#please reblog if you enjoyed and thanks for reading!

[wosofutbolfan]

I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar

Alexia Putellas x Explorer!R

8.5k Fluff, Fun, Minor Angst

Hi Guys,

This is pt4. in the 'I Would Climb Every Mountain With You" otherwise known as Explorer!R Universe. TW: description of killing an animal.

Highly recommend you read those 3 first, as this is entrenched in lore. Pt 1 can be found here.

It's developed from an ask I received from @karsonromanoff so thank you so much for the idea! I hope I did it justice and I'm sorry for the delay and the words. ha.

This is the first time I've written since my dad died. I'm not being emo or heavy about it but I am asking to please, be kind. I know there's nice people out there but often they're drowned out by the loud haters.

So throw us a comment, like or reblog if you enjoyed. I'm just trying to get back into something that brought me joy. I know I enjoyed writing it.

Also, may be weird for a fic about a spanish gay footballer, but you probably need a good working knowledge of Bear Grylls to understand 80% of this. ha.

As has become tradition, here's the song running though my head when writing! Yes, my music taste remains to be that of someone born in 1962. God love Helen Reddy.

“Vamos Ale! I don’t like to make Miguel wait…” you shout from the kitchen, bag resting on the countertop as you try to fix your bracelet with your left hand,

“Deja de preocuparte, a él no le importa, I will be one minute…” you head called back from the bedroom where your wife had been getting dressed for 2 hours now.

Yes.

Your wife.

Sometimes you couldn’t believe it.

Sometimes the weight of the band on your finger catches you by surprise and you’d remember.

Sometimes Alexia would place her hand on your bare thigh and you could feel the cool metal on your skin and you’d remember.

Sometimes you’d get called “Mrs Putellas” at a school talk, or at the Doctors, and you’d remember.

It felt so natural that sometimes you’d forget that you weren’t always Alexia's wife.

But now you are. And had been for almost 6 months. And married life couldn’t have suited you more.

Your wedding ring was your new favourite accessory, you never took it off.

In a fire you would save Alexia and your ring.

Maybe even your ring first.

It was embossed with the imprint of grass that Alexia has been collecting from each pitch of each game she had played in since you had met. The intricate design brought tears to your eyes as soon as you saw it. Made even worse by the inscription “’cause you are my goal”. 

You would be embarrassed if Alexia hadn’t cried like a toddler when you presented her with the ring you had made for her, which had rock from each of the 7 peaks you had scaled, as well as a granule of sand from the Dead Sea set within it. Integrated into the metal, visible but smooth to the touch. 

The inscription 'every mountain high, every valley low' on the inside of the band.

You knew you’d done good and you knew your Ale well enough to anticipate the absolute mess she would be when presented with it, ensuring you had a pocket full of tissues for the inevitable waterfall.

You weren’t wrong.

You had to assure a passing couple on the trail you had chosen that she was fine, not having a medical incident and you were definitely not mid break-up but in fact exchanging wedding bands early because you knew your fiance well enough she didn’t need her teammates to witness this much of her soft side.

Though you tried, they still saw enough on your wedding day to tease her for the last 6 months with no sign of slowing down.

Though right now your wife's behaviour was nothing but unexpected. You had agreed to attend one of Alexia's events this evening. Since getting married you had felt more of a duty to attend and make up for the years you’d left her carrying her own handbag whilst you trotted over mountains on the other side of the world. 

She insisted that you didn’t have to. Like she always did. You weren’t one for the fancy dresses and the flashing cameras. But you saw the gleam of hope in her eyes as she insisted she would be fine on her own.

You couldn’t let that sparkle dim.

Also you had to set off for a camp in a few days and you had gotten seriously stuck in the honeymoon phase meaning that an evening without your wife by your side wasn’t something you could stomach.

Not that you would admit to being so clingy.

But it wasn’t like Ale to take so long to get ready, neither of you being particularly fussy, usually she would throw on some light makeup, smack your bum whilst you ate nutella off a knife under the hob light, procrastinating getting ready until she dragged you and dropped you into the ensuite, steal a kiss and a spray of perfume, and wait for you whilst watching old football clips in the living room.

But now, as you still struggled to attach the clasp of your bracelet and you had one eye on the poor Barca driver, Miguel, waiting in your driveway, you started to grow frustrated at your wife's sudden vanity.

You smelt her perfume invading your senses as you felt her arms envelope you from behind, moving your uncoordinated left hand away and easily attaching the clasp of your bracelet for you, pressing a kiss to your neck as she did so.

“Finalmente… Let’s g-...” you spoke as you turned in her embrace, finally taking in her attire which stopped you in your tracks.

“Boobs”

You had suddenly turned into a 14 year old boy and you couldn’t explain it.

You had seen your wife naked hundreds of times.

Hundreds of fantastic times.

But here she stood looking, regal. Her hair falling lightly over her face, her dark sparkly dress with wide shoulders and only what you could describe as a boob portal you had been rendered speechless. Mouth gaping open like a fish.

“...Amor?...” you heard the delight in her voice. “Are you listening to me… my eyes are up here.” she jokingly clicked her fingers in front of your face which took you out of your breast-inspired trance.

“Ale you are so beautiful” you looked deeply into her eyes but you didn’t miss the blush rising from her neck. And you meant it. She was. Wow. 

“Do you like it?” she asked, shyly, “You don’t think it’s too much? It’s just the first event we’ve gone to together since we got married and I wanted to…”

You interrupt her but pressing a kiss to her lips, and, well, if you slipped a little tongue in there then fine. She was your wife after all.

“What? Show the world what they're missing out on? I am so proud to stand by your side, my love.” you whispered into her lips, as you toyed with her wedding band. 

You couldn’t help yourself…”and your boobs are fantastic.” 

She barked out a laugh as you leaned back into where you left off, but she took a step back, her heel clicking against the tile floor, to which you let out an annoyed grumble.

“Oi Oi, Mi Amor. What about poor Miguel, he is waiting, Si?” she teased.

“He doesn’t care… Cálla y bésame.”

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

You took a deep breath and leaned back on your chair at the round table you found yourself at. Alexia had been pulled from your side which she had stuck to like glue all evening,  to go and present the final award of the evening which she had just done, very sexily if you do say so yourself. All confident and boob-y.

You smiled, imagining her now making small talk backstage, eyes bored but a smile plastered on her face as she tried to make her way back to your table.

Your other table-mates seemed to take the opportunity of the break in the ceremony to raid the free bar put on by the charity. Which seemed very uncharitable of them. But, as you toyed with the rim of your glass, who were you to judge?

Stomach full from a mediocre-mass produced meal and head happily fuzzy from the bubbles you had consumed you found yourself oddly satisfied as you sat here. In this conference room-turned auditorium in the middle of Barcelona, here, loudly and proudly as Alexia's wife.

Mrs Putellas.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, you felt weirdly grown-up. With your wife, your house, and your business. You blinked and missed yourself becoming so settled and for once in your life you weren’t terrified of the idea.

You saw the glint in Alexia's eye. When Irene and her wife would come round for dinner and bring their kid. She’d surrender all hostess duties and sit on the living room floor, crawling around at the beck and call of whatever imaginary game the 5 year old insisted on. You’d seen her perfect her lion roar in that very spot. It probably matched the glint in yours when you were grocery shopping and a child being pushed in a trolley would go past shoving cookies into the trolley without their Mother seeing.

Maybe, you thought, maybe it was time…

“It is you! I am so sorry to interrupt. I had to come over to introduce myself. I am such a fan…”

You glanced around, expecting Alexia to be standing over your shoulder and smiling politely at the person who had approached your table to meet her… but you were met with blank space and then you engaged your silly brain and realised the person was speaking English and looking at you and…

Oh My God.

It’s Bear Grylls.

“Oh My God. You’re Bear Grylls.” 

You let out. 

Stupidly.

Standing and thrusting your hand out like an idiot to your legitimate childhood hero.

You and your brother would watch his series for hours as children. Sat cross-legged 2 inches from the TV on your living room floor, eating up every second of his adventures. Your mum had to stop you from eating a woodlouse once in your garden because you’d seen him eat a cricket in the Amazon the evening before. Your brother smacked upside the head for trying to drink a cup of his own wee for the same reason.

Now you were a well-seasoned adventurer yourself you knew that all of that was for theatricks. 

You had spent more than 7 weeks wandering the Amazon yourself once, and not one drop of urine passed your lips. Not one 8 legged insect had you gulped down in one.

But still.

Hero.

He took your hand graciously, as you both sat back down you prepared to barrage him with questions but before you could he jumped right in…

“I have been wanting to meet you for years. But my team said you had disappeared off to Spain and couldn’t be tracked down. Please, I've been desperate to know. .. Tell me all about summiting Orjas del Salado…”

So you told him, and you asked him about his adventures, and you chatted for what could have been hours, sharing stories and advice with Bear-fucking-Grylls.

He blushed as you pointed out his for-TV tricks and you thanked him for being a portal into the wider world from your living room.

At some point you felt Alexia return, a strong hand on your shoulder. You paused your monologue about Patagonia and giddily took her hand in yours, introducing them to each other. 

Polite pleasantries exchanged you could tell she had legitimately no idea what was going on or who this middle-aged English guy at your table was, but judging from your excited eyes, she didn’t need to interrupt.

It didn’t take too long for someone from his team to pull him away for an interview with the charity. But as you stood to say your goodbyes he made an offer, “You know, me and the production company are making a special about survival in the Alps… I would love for you to be a guest star.”

You stood there like a gaping fish for a moment. “Really?” you asked, in wonder, your 7 year old self spinning around in glee in your chest. Alexia smiling up at you from her chair at the joy in your voice.

“Of course! I would be honored, it’s especially about how to survive in an Avalanche situation. Obviously, with what happened in Nepal…you are an expert in that fie…”

At that point, Alexia stopped her polite silence she had been maintaining whilst you had your moment with your childhood hero. And abruptly stood, clutching your hand hard in both of hers, stern look on her face.

“No.”

From the look on his face you gathered that this successful upper-middle class white English man had not been told no too often, and a beat of silence followed which Alexia was more than happy to fill.

“Sorry Señor Oso. She doesn’t do snow now. Thank you for the offer though.”

She said it with such finality that even you didn’t think to question it. Her mis-translation brought a smile to your face. Her hands still encompassed yours, her eyes didn’t leave his face. As though daring him to rebuff her.

He looked at you as though to confirm she could answer for you. Of course she could. But you knew this refusal wasn’t just about you, but about her also. You knew the anxiety it would cause her for you to put yourself in that situation wasn’t worth anything on this planet.

Nevermind the trauma it would dredge up for you. So obviously, you agreed.

“Sorry Mr Grylls. Not my rodeo anymore. I’ve got some contacts though who you could work with” you politely confirmed your refusal and felt Alexias hands lessen their grip on yours in relief.

“No, no, of course. Sorry. But no. I would really love for you to be involved in the series. We have an episode about promoting women in outdoor pursuits. It's still on the drawing board, but if you are interested I’ll get our people to liaise with each other!”

“That sounds amazing but… I don’t have any people for you to…”

“Don’t be silly Mi Amor” Alexia interrupts again, hand still in yours and the other expertly reaching into her clutch and pushing a card into his outstretched hand… “We have people. Please, Oso, be in touch.”

Smiling vaguely and confusedly at your wife, still clearly mildly terrified of her, he takes the card as he's dragged away by his handler. He's probably still in hearing distance as you squeal in glee and throw yourself into your wife's arms, making her spin with the momentum.

“Ale, Ale, Ale!!! Do you know who that was….” you exclaim.

She can’t help but laugh aloud at your antics, soft look on her face as she lifts you lightly off the ground to stop your spin.

“Si Mi Amor, ese era el hombre oso de la televisión. Tu favorito.” she replies with a smile on her face, speaking softly, somehow, in the middle of this event where she was the guest star, making you feel as though you were the only person in the universe.

“No.” you corrected “..eres mi favorito.” You sealed your words with a light kiss to her lips, chaste but warm.

“Ah, Si. And you have had some wine. You always get soft after wine.” she lightly rolls her eyes with affection at your gushing over her.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes as you pull her into a soft sway, your childhood hero quickly forgotten now you’re in the company of your wife.

Though the giddiness in your bones from your encounter remains.

“Si the wine.” you agree moving your lips close to her ear as you whisper, breath dancing against her cheek, your hand moves to her chest and you feel her breath falter at your closeness,

“but also your boobs.” and you quickly poke her exposed chest between her breasts before she can stop you, and you move away from her pulling her behind you as you rush off to the bar.

“Amor!” she cackles.

“Vamos Ale! A La Barra!”

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

“Estoy Muerta.”

You grumble in complaint into the chest of the warm and moving pillow that you had clearly settled on in the night.

“Shh Ale.”

“Me estoy muriendo y a mi esposa no le importa.”

“You are not dying Ale. You are hungover and over 30”, you mumble in reply, moving away from resting on her chest, the heat becoming too much for your own fuzzy brain.

“Explain to me how that is different.” she doesn’t take kindly to your light chuckle in reply, as you move your hand to cover your eyes from the sunlight starting to bleed through the curtains.

You peek an eye open and see the remnants of your previous night strewn across the bedroom floor.

You take in the glorious dress of your wifes thrown across your chest of drawers. You recall unzipping it with your mouth after making very good use of the boob portal. Much to Alexia's delight.

You had probably taken it a little bit too far at the bar. Your giddiness let your binge-drinking brit out a little too much.

You had a flash of memory at dancing on a table at a dive bar in the town centre, before being brought down by Alba who you had called and demanded come and dance the night away.

Meanwhile Alexia had been in the corner trying to drunkenly explain to Mapi a set of complicated tactics that they should try out at an additional training session in the morning.

“I thought you had scheduled extra training today Ale” you teased after taking in her pasty complexion as you rolled over and settled back down onto your, cooler, side of the bed.

“I hate you.” she replied, quite seriously, as she moulded herself against your back, taking your hand in hers and burying her face into the back of your neck.

“Of course you do, dear, it feels like it.” you tease again, wiggling yourself and making her grumble again.

You rest there for a few moments, before you’re dragged onto your back again and pulled into Alexia's embrace as she moves you around like her own personal teddy bear.

You go with the flow, quite used to your wife's clingy nature, especially when she didn't feel well.

But your silence doesn’t last two minutes before she rolls you over again, now onto your back, “Oh bloody hell, where are we going now.” you mumble, as she rests her head on your chest this time, nuzzling into your breasts.

“me estoy poniendo cómodo.” she mutters into your bosom, “allá. ahora estoy cómodo”. You run your hands through her hair, smiling down at your wife who is practically purring at the attention.

“Bebé…”, you make a noise of affirmation.

“Will you…” you know what she wants, and you know she must be feeling bad if she’s asking for attention.

“Si, my love. voy a trenzar tu cabello. One big plait or lots of little ones?”. 

“The tingly ones por favor” she mumbles into your chest. Your heart expands at her adorableness, never quite learning the English for ‘french plait’ they became known as the ‘tingly ones’ in your household, because of the feeling she would get as you plaited her wet hair after a game, hands working through her scalp. 

It brings a smile to your face and you can see the lovesick smile on hers where it is squished against your chest.

You start to section out her hair as she lies still, your ministrations slowly putting her to sleep, working methodically in the quiet morning.

Moving strand over strand in intricate braids, lightly tugging her scalp and undoing when it's not perfect and redoing, giving her an extra scratch to the soft skin behind her ear when you get there, knowing it's her most sensitive spot. Receiving a sleepy purr in satisfaction as your reward.

You hear the animals from the national park outside, feel the sun starting to warm the room around you. Her chest rising and falling against yours hypnotising you further into the moment. You’ve got grand plans, brunch and a walk along the beach in your mind, maybe a lazy afternoon swim, hold on no. Maybe a lazy afternoon skinny dip. Yeah.

That sounds good.

You’ve almost finished tying off the last plait when you are startled back into the moment by the buzzing of your wifes phone on the bedslide table.

You fight back a smile at the groan that is emitted from your fully grown-pro-athlete-wife.  It resembled that of a teenager who’d been asked to clean their room or no dessert. When she doesn’t go to make a move you nudge her shoulder.

“Ale. Ale, your phone."

“No.”

“Yes."

“No."

“C'mon Ale.” you reach across and pick the phone up. “It could be important. It could be your secret wife wondering where you are.”

She rolls off you at your tease, throwing you a glare that resembles more of an angry kitten than anything, “It could not be, she knows where I am. I snuck out whilst you were dancing on the tables in that last bar to make plans for dinner.”

“Ah, Si of course. My mistake.”

She surges up and gives you a completely unnecessary chaste kiss, as though even the joke is too much and she has to confirm she’s kidding. The phone has stopped vibrating against the bedside table and the silence that settles over you both is welcome.

“How are you so okay? I feel like I have been run over by a truck.” she states as she rubs her face, finally sitting up to start the day.

“You are old.

“I am 2 months older than you.”

“Two, very long, months my darling.” you tap her cheek lightly as you move to get out of bed, throwing on one of her oversized t-shirts you find on the floor.

“Seria, how?” she asks again, now sprawling across the space you have vacated.

“I am English. I once did a vodka shot through my eyeball in the park. I was 14.” you state, plainley, eyebrow raised in challenge as she just looks at you, open mouthed.

“Ojalá no hubiera preguntado.” she mutters, as her phone starts to ring again.

“Ale, phone.” you say, just to annoy her.

“¡lo sé!” you hear thrown at you, as you head downstairs to set some food out for Billy-the-Goat, and make a coffee for your dying wife.

Soon after, you feel her presence behind you as you stir her coffee, turning as you feel her hands wrap around your waist and presenting her coffee and she takes it from you as though it's a ballon d’or. She takes a sip before she presses a kiss to your head.

“That was my agent.”

Your heart drops, and you can’t help the petulant whine that leaves your lips.

“No, Ale! I wanted to spend the day together. Try that new brunch place Alba told us about. Have a swim, just be together. Whatever brand needs you can wait. Tell them no, please” you finish your little monologue with a pout, and you feel a childish frustration rise as a laugh teases against her lips.  You don’t get very far when a kiss is pressed against your lips.

“Well that sounds like the perfect hangover cure Mi Amor. Do you not want me to tell you what it is before I tell them no though?” there's something in her taunt, a glint in the eye that makes you think twice as your mouth already wraps around the refusal.

You take a moment too long apparently, and she takes things into her own hands as she clutches her coffee happily and spins around, “I’ll tell them no! Don’t worry Mi Amor…” teasing lilt in her tone. Whatever the news is, it has pulled her from her hangover.

You wait a beat

Another.

“Fine, What is it!” you groan out in defeat, hands raised to the sky, Alexias t-shirt riding high on your thighs as you raise your arms.

Your wife turns and is distracted momentarily by the flesh on display. Before you cough and she remembers what she's supposed to be doing. Coy smile on her face returning.

“That was my agent…” you huff out at her drawing out the anticipation. “Or should I say our agent.” your brow furrows in confusion as she continues… “she has been contacted by a muy interesado oso.”

Realisation starts to dawn on you, memories of the previous night flashing in your mind and you can’t help the grin that forms.

“Si, Mi Amor. It turns out he really meant it. She said they were willing to offer anything to get you on. She’s getting the details now and will contact us again after our day together today to see if you are interested”.

“I am interested!” you exclaim with glee, Alexia throwing her head back in laughter.

“I know Amor, but let's let them sell it to you. You need the details. Though… I am sure it is no more dangerous than ojos de vodka.”

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

“Hola, love!” you shout into your empty hallway, hands full of groceries, you shuck off your trainers, hearing them thump against the wall as you struggle into the kitchen.

Tonight was the premiere of “Man Vs Woman” , the special episode of your and Bear's adventure. After the offer was made you met with the TV production company via Zoom to go through ideas.

You pretended you didn’t know Alexia was standing just outside the door to your study, listening and clearly deciding if she thought it was too dangerous or not. At least that's what you deduced from her interrupting with a cup of tea every time a particularly hairy idea was mentioned.  

When you brought this up with her you pretended you didn't see her blush creeping up from her neck. Because you’re her wife and it was the wifely thing to do.

The concept was a really cool one. You were excited from the start. The idea was that you and Bear would both be dropped in an inhospitable environment with a map and a knife and nothing else. Neither of you would be told what type of environment but you had assurances in your contract that it wouldn’t involve snow. You had 28 days to get to the muster point. Whoever got there first won.

Simple.

Convincing Alexia it was really cool. Less simple.

“Amor what if there are animals!”

“I know how to avoid dangerous animals. And there will be a medical team on standby,”

“What if you fall and cut yourself on your knife."

“What if you get tackled and break your leg?”

“That's different. What if you lose your map and can’t find your way out and you have to live out there forever”

“I will always find my way back to you.”

“What If-”

“Ale.”

You stopped her rambling with a kiss and when you pulled away you looked deeply in her eyes.

“Que pasa I miss you too much?” eyes wide and vulnerable.

There we go. Her real source of anxiety.

You had spent more time apart than most couples but since you scaled down your travels you had fallen into a sweet domesticity you could admit was a struggle to pull yourself from. 28 days plus the week before to get to the location is longer than you’d like. But it was an adventure of a lifetime. Maybe… maybe your last adventure? The thoughts had been creeping in more and more recently.

Of early mornings chasing more than sunrises, maybe rising due to a baby's babble instead?

You’d made sure that Alexia really knew how much you’d miss her the night before you flew out. On reflection maybe you should have rested your muscles a little more before such a physically demanding month but. Be serious. Look who your wife was. 

You are not God's strongest soldier.

So, off you had gone. Competing against your childhood hero for all of womanhood. And you couldn’t lie. You loved it.

Being blindfolded and dropped in an unknown location was exhilarating. Learning the land as you went, with only a map and a knife in hand it was one of the biggest challenges of your life.

The team had made good on their promise and the tropical rainforest you were in couldn’t be further from a snowy mountain range.

You’d refused to let anything slip to Alexia in the 3 months you’d been back. Lips tightly sealed no matter what she tried. You wanted her to be surprised and watch it in real time with you. In all the games you'd attended since you had to deal with an injured Mapi yapping your ear off whilst you tried to concentrate on the game, probing for hints about if you won, what you won, where you were, if you wrestled a snake, how big was the snake you’d wrestled.

“Maria stop with the snake!” you’d finally snapped during the tense quarter final of the Queen's cup.

Which had worked.

For all of two seconds.

“What did the snake taste like?”

You’d originally planned to go home to England with Alexia to watch the premier with your family. But then a schedule mess-up in the league had meant that Ale had to play in a rescheduled game the day after the premier. It just didn’t work for her to come to England.

She insisted you still go, but you refused. You wanted to watch her game. And you knew she’d need you when the show was on. Even if she didn’t know that yet.

You started to unpack your groceries mindlessly, you’d picked some great snacks for the evenings viewing, you suddenly were hit with how suspiciously peaceful your house was, though, you were sure you’d seen Alexia's car in the drive.

“Ale! Love!, ¡Estoy en casa! Come help me unpack!” You shouted into your empty kitchen, back turned to your living room, you had a few hours before the show was on air, “I got that ice-cream you like! I know it gives you a tummy ache sometimes but don’t worry, I'll rub your tummy how you like afte…”

“Amor!”

You turned around at the panic in her voice, “Wha–”

“SURPRISE!”

Ale stood in your living area, face reddening, surrounded by her closest Barca teammates as well as Mario, his ever pregnant wife and his kids, your mum and brother as well as Eli and Alba. Everyone comically in paper party hats and some lop-sided bunting was up above your couch,

“HOPE YOU BEAT THE BEAR SNAKE!” it read, and you immediately knew who was on the decoration committee.

You jumped in surprise, dropping the ice cream and immediately ran into your mum's open arms, “Mum! You’re here!” you squealed into her neck, hiding the tears that had appeared in her presence.

“I am, love. Alexia literally wouldn’t let us refuse the flight. She pretended she didn’t understand English when we tried to at least pay for it. And you know I have a 265 day streak on duolingo but my accent must need work because she didn’t understand my Spanish.”

You pulled yourself from her neck with a wet laugh and transferred yourself into your wifes open and familiar strong arms. “Aleeee” you whined. She knew you meant thank you. And I love you. And you mean the world to me. But you were too British to do that infront of people.

“You need to stop pretending you don’t speak English when you don’t like what you hear.” you muttered without malice after placing a kiss below her ear.

“I know amor. I love you too. And your family needed to be here for your big moment! You couldn’t miss this with them because of me. And then also. Mapi happened and now we’re having a viewing party! There's a cake!”

“And Ice Cream Ale! Don’t worry, I’ve saved it! Though we don’t want your barriga to hu-” Mapi stands the space you'd just vacated holding up the abandoned and slightly battered carton of ice cream. She's stopped from her gleeful teasing by Ingrid covering her entire face with one big palm.

“We wanted to be here to support you.” Ingrid interrupted her girlfriend, addressing you kindly.

“We all did!” you hear from Alba in the back, already tucking into the buffet set up on the coffee table, paper hat skew-whiff on her head. You have never felt so loved. It was perfect.

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

“So, when are you going to tell her you’re ready for them?”

You are brought out of your daydream by Ingrid sidling up to you and addressing you with her familiar soft lilt.

“Huh?”

She doesn’t reply vocally, just nods her head towards your wife, who is currently having a very intense game of 2v2 in your garden with 2 of Marios youngest and Mapi.

The kids little legs making them toddle around after the small ball adorably, Mapi and Ale giving soft touches they would easily catch up with.

You can’t help but laugh out loud as Ale takes Mapi by surprise and takes a shot against her hard, the ball catching her bare thigh in a manner which must have left a sting much to the small Spaniard's disdain.

Her and the two kids start to chase Alexia around the garden, dramatically tackling her as she suddenly becomes some sort of football monster, rolling around and blowing raspberries on their stomachs as Mapi cheers her toddler army on from the sidelines.

You feel another knock against your arm, dislodging your hand which is supporting your head as you lean over the breakfast bar facing the garden. Lovesick looks clearly on your face, going off Ingrid's coy smile.

“You know, barn. Kids. Munchkins…”

“Yeah, Yeah I get it Ingrid…” you steal another look outside at your more-often-than-not-stern wife getting grass stains on her comfy shorts for the entertainment of your best friends' kids, suddenly you feel like being really really honest. You turn to Ingrid with a shy smile of your own, “soon.”

Her face lights up, teeth on display unable to disguise her smile. “Yeah?” she asks, before turning to look towards the garden, “Me too.”

You smile to yourself and drop your head onto the dark haired girl's shoulder, you both taking a moment to watch your partners play with the kids. The moment is ruined by your mum mussing up your hair on her way past,

“Come on Love, we need to wrangle these last-minute spaniards, it starts in 10 minutes!”

She had a point to be fair. A very chaotic 8 minutes later you practically push Eli into her seat on the couch after she tries to get another plate full of food for Mario’s wife, “¡Está llena de Eli! ella esta embarazada no tiene hambre!” you cheekily remind her, your wife looking up at you from her place on the floor with tender eyes.

“And you…” you turn your attention towards her as you make your way to your seat, “get up here.” you demand, patting the empty space next to you.

“I’m bueno down here Mi Amor, me and Bruno can watch from down here.” she insists. the 4 year old of Marios nestled on her stomach, her arms wrapped around his sleeping form where he attached himself to her after being forced back inside.

You hesitate for a moment, not watching to make a scene or be too needy in front of all your closest family and friends, but you knew that Ale would need to be within touching distance of you in the next hour. 

You’re about to make your peace with it when Mario glaces your way. You and Mario have worked together for years. Years before you met Ale and the girls.

You’ve battled more than just bears together. Weeks spent isolated in the mountains. And a bond like that means that you can communicate with just a look.

With just that glance he’s up and pulling his toddler into his own burley arms. Bruno remaining in his deep sleep through the change.

“I’ve got el monstruo Ale. Go sit with your wife."

She doesn’t need any more direction, the small interaction is subtle and missed by everyone, except your brother who sends you an exaggerated puppy dog look.

“Fuck off” you throw at him, finger in the air, quickly grabbed by Alexia, “Hey, I thought you wanted me to sit here!” she teases, sending your brother a wink.

“Stop ganging up on me…!” you’re about to protest further before you’re shushed by Mapi, of all people, sitting on the floor between Ingrid's legs who sits on the couch above her. “It's about to start!”

She has a point, a familiar British accent fills the living room, Spanish subtitles appearing on the bottom of the screen for the Spanish contingent. Bear’s voice is as dramatic as ever, long sweeping scenes fill the screen of intense jungle, a crocodile and an action shot of a snake thrown in for good measure.

“Serpiente!” Mapi shouts, pointing at the screen, before Ingrid hushes her and pulls her back against her legs. 

           “We all know by now that humans are masters of the jungle. But the unanswered question remains. Is it the King, or Queen of the Jungle? Find out tonight in Man V Woman.”

The title fills the screen with a dramatic crescendo of music. Your friends and family whooping as though it's the champions league final. Alexia barely contains her excitement next to you. You had been steadfast in your refusal to tell anyone the outcome.

The next shot is a recognisable one, the sound of trees being hacked with a machete accompanies a close up of a muddy puddle set deep in the jungle, until the water is disturbed by a ever-familiar battered boot stomping in the puddle, blaugrana laces pulled tight, as proudly as ever.

This prompts another wild round of jeering from the crowd around you as the camera pans out and reveals your full profile as Alexia places a loving kiss onto your shoulder, “That's my wife!” she shouts, proudly, making you laugh. 

Bear's voice over continues as you pull Alexia's hand into yours, half pulling her on top of you, she gives you a peculiar look, this being more PDA than you would usually allow in front of your English family, but she goes with it, too full of pride to be worried otherwise.

As the voiceover continues, highlights of your career flash across the screen to introduce you to the audience.

Mountains in Peru, Arctic Explorations, Treks across Siberia, all flash across the screen, mixed in with childhood pictures your mum must have supplied painting a picture of your career so far and your expertise in your career.

The music turns more dramatic as you shift uncomfortably, being the only one to realise in the room what's about to happen.

A picture of you smiling with Arjan at the peak of Everest, ice picks raised proudly in the air. You feel Alexia stiffen on your lap, ever so subtly. Stock footage of snow hurling down a mountain as Bear describes the avalanche you got trapped in.

He gives out stats and figures to heighten the drama… “your chance of survival drops 3% every minute you are trapped after the first 15 minutes… being trapped for 2 days… our guest star did the unthinkable…”

The room is bathed in a white light as the screen changes. Camera shaky and audio changing to the shouts and heavy breaths of whoever the body worn camera is strapped too. “Yahām̐, Yahām̐, she is here!”

The camera catches Arjan digging desperately, it's clear now the camera is strapped to a rescuer on the slopes of Everest, the TV production company having access to the footage through a sister company who were filming a documentary about altitude rescue at the time.

It shakes as the man helps dig, grunts of exertion as the spade digs desperately. A flash of colour and your snow suit is revealed, face pressed up against the rock you had found shelter near.

Arjan clears snow from your face desperately and puts his head close to yours, “She’s breathing!” he pulls you up and your hand, satellite phone frozen in place, falls from the side of your ghostly white face as the camera fades out.

The whole segment couldn’t have lasted more than 32 seconds. But it had felt like time had slowed. You could feel from her placement on you that Alexia hadn’t taken a breath. Her eyes remained wide as she stared at the screen.

There was a heaviness in the room around you. 

The voiceover continued, explaining the challenge to the audience but the silence continued. Eli glances at her daughter worriedly, every few seconds.

Just as you thought the tension couldn’t get any more intense… “That's what Alexia looks like when she visits England for Christmas and mum won’t let us put the heating on.” your brother jokes, awkwardly, a crooked smile on his boyish face. 

The room is silent, your mum hiding a smile behind a hand only you notice. He goes to speak again, probably to apologise when-

Alexias' laugh shocks even you, bubbling up from deep within her chest. She closes her eyes, a stray tear escaping at the pressure. Laugh still rumbling deep in her chest, slowly the room joins in, as though they’ve been given permission, and soon your in a choir of laughing spectators, your brother blushing deep red at the attention.

“Thank you” you mouth to him across the room, as you wrap your hands around your wife, whos body still shakes with the odd giggle.

He tips an imaginary hat at you in return.

Because he is an idiot.

The challenge begins, unhelpfully, with you throwing yourself out of a helicopter into the rainforest, “Oh Dios Mio” she mumbles, heard subtly under Mapis, “Cool!”.

You press your lips against her shoulder again and mutter into her skin; “I am here, I am warm, I am Safe.” Like a mantra, you feel her nod and grip your hand tighter.

The thing about being in the environment completely opposite to an avalanche inducing mountain range, was that it was hot. Hot and wet. The camera follows both you and Bear as you struggle through the elements seperatly, deciding when to camp down and preserve energy and when to try to gain more miles.

Bear goes hard, and Mapi looks up at you aghast as you decide to build a shelter and bunker down for seven days straight. The heat zapping any energy you had.

“What are you doing! It's a race!” she exclaims, to which you laugh and zip your mouth closed with your fingers, cocking an eyebrow at her as she eagerly looks back towards the TV like a small child.

You spend two days collecting water and, seemingly, according to Mapi, wasting time cutting palm leaves and collecting bark to make twine. Meanwhile Bear is hacking down trees, making spears out of sticks and rock and throwing himself at seemingly anything that would give him a bit of protein on the move.

You’ve ridden yourself of most of your clothing due to the heat. Smothering yourself in mud from the riverbank you were camped next to, you explain to the camera its sun-cream qualities and how it’s safer than clothing as it also protects you from dehydration. 

All the while you weave and weave and weave your leaves together, quietly, assuredly.

You explain to the camera; “I am a master weaver. My wife likes it when I plait her hair. Alot. She’s cute. Sorry Ale.” you wink at the camera as your wife groans on your lap and  her teammates start to tease her, “Amor! Why!”

“Now. Let's see how this works!”  you grin and pull up a large basket to the camera.

The screen shows you scantily dressed, boots safely on a rock in the background, in the river, moving twigs into position to make a run for the fish to swim directly into your basket.

You explain the contraception, set some bait and say your goodnights to the camera, crossing your fingers for a full basket in the morning.

Cheerful music begins as the camera fades back into your campfire, fish on a stick roasting and cooking heavenly, your muddied but smiling face coming into view.

“Bear can eat his roaches and drink his wee. I’ll be here with my fish buffet!” You joke, under your shelter, camera panning to tens of fish in your basket waiting to be smoked.

The next scene shows Bear explaining the protein benefits and the unusual flavours of a witchetty grub as he struggles against the rainstorm. 

The music begins to ramp up. Graphics on the screen showing both of your progress. Bear has made much more progress than you. But struggling physically. He’s developed a terrible case of trench foot but was still making steady progress with his machete.

You chose to travel up the river. Walking along its bed you are able to make more direct progress, but it’s more energy draining wading through water. You have, however, had a relatively strong diet over the last 3 weeks.

You’re sitting on the river bed, tending to your basket of smoked fish you’re carrying with you for energy when you suddenly remain completely stock still. Dramatic music begins. Your head raises subtly and then out of nowhere.

“Serpentine!”

A snake strikes at you from the shallows, clearly after your basket, or you, or whatever it can get its fangs in. You react quickly, crouching down to your knees, keeping a low centre of gravity to keep your balance as your right hand reaches into the shallows.

You and the snake strike at the same time, and you throw yourself to the side as you bash a jagged rock against its head.

The next scene shows you taking a mouthful of grilled snake; “Tastes like chicken!” you joke at the camera. Before popping a piece of charred snake skin into your mouth.

You feel Alexia shudder in your arms.

"I'm never kissing you again" she lies.

Mapi slowly turns around, mouth agape, gobsmacked look on her face. “Snake!” she whispers, in disbelief. “You beat a snake!” You can’t help but laugh and lean over to turn her head back to the TV.

“Told you you’d find everything out tonta.”

The map on screen shows the last day of the challenge, Bear's voice over explaining distances to the muster points, as well as geographical challenges. The screen swaps quickly between the two of you, running, climbing and swimming to where you both believed the finish line to be.

You were making good progress, as was Bear.

A close up of a Brazilian flag on the edge of a waterfall.

A close up of you throwing yourself into the river.

Bear gripping a cliff edge and heaving himself up. The camera shows the bottom of the flag pole as he pulls himself up. The camera pans up. And the flagpole is bare.

The screen changes to you.

Standing, still relatively scantily clad in your battered boots, your hiking shorts cut down to short-shorts and thin vest muddied and holey, fish blood staining your arms,holding the flag proudly up in one arm.

The room around you erupts. “She did it!” “¡Jefe de la Jungla!!!!” “I always knew!”, “She killed a snake!”. You find yourself at the bottom of a pile of bodies as Alexia's teammates celebrate in the way they know how. Which is apparently to throw themselves at you in a pile up.

“That's my wife!” Alexia chants proudly from within the pile, laughing gleefully, all earlier angst forgotten.

The screen goes blank, and the image shows you and Bear embracing, laughing as the voiceover continues; “... at least this time. It's a Queen of the jungle… or should I say. La Reina de la Jungla.” Bear quips, as Alexia groans, forever hating her nickname, and the screen cuts to black.

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

It’s hours later, many more plates of food, celebration toasts and questions from Mapi about the snake later. That you're finally in the quiet of your bedroom in your wife's arms.

Your mum and brother are set up in the spare rooms and you have all got plans to meet up with the Alexias family at the game tomorrow before going out for a meal.

Your head is settled on her chest as she plays on her phone above you, struggling to calm down from the evening's events, and as usual, struggling to sleep before a game.  You play with her wedding ring on her spare hand. Feeling the cool metal beneath against her warm skin.

You feel her swipe furiously through her phone, getting more agitated as time passes, grumbles that are not-quite words emitting from her chest.

“Hey. Love.” you sit up and pull her phone away. “What's the matter?”

“Nothing.” she replies, bottom lip out in a pout, pulling her phone back into her hand.

“It’s not nothing. Tell me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Alexia.” you sigh, “We aren't doing this.. What's got you so…” you look down onto her phone and see. Yourself? It's her tiktok open and you see an edit of the show being played over… “Hot Stuff? Ale. What's this?” you glance at the comments section and see a selection from seemingly anon accounts;  

‘I have never understood Alexia more’, ‘I wonder who calls who capi.’ ,‘Capi, your wife's thighs are bigger than yours’.

“Nothing!” she grabs her phone back from your grip… you arch an eyebrow at her which crumbles her resolve in 3…2…

“Fine! It's all over my TikTok.  The comments about you. The fans have made these edits. Of you! All, wet and… muscley and… nearly undressed.”

“And you…don’t… like me wet, and muscled and… naked? Cause, love, I have evidenced otherwis…”

“Shut up! Of course I do but you're mine!”

Oh. Realisation dawns on you and you can’t help but smile.

“Don’t laugh!” she grumbles. “You’re jealous….” you tease in a sing-song voice. “I am not jealous!” she insists, “It's just… tu eres mio! And these people are all looking at you”.

“I am,” you agree, with a smile. “But, love. Try being married to Alexia Putellas. Maybe you’ll keep your shirt on at games now.” you tease, making her smile and roll her eyes.

Eyes softening as you pull her phone from her grip and plug it in for her. Settling back into her chest, nuzzling against the warm skin you find there.

“I am so proud of you.” she whispers into the now dark room, placing a kiss on your head. The moment became more serious and tender.

“I love you” you reply, softly, the moment feels weighted, and you’re not sure what makes you do it. Maybe it's the adrenaline of the evening, having completed your life's ambition, or maybe it's the wine you drank.

Though, really, you know it's because of the images of your lanky wife curling herself onto the rug in the living room because Bruno had decided she was the world's best pillow again. But you can’t stop yourself.

“Ale. I want to have kids with you.”

Her hand stops its movement in your hair and she rushes over to turn the bedside lamp back on.

“Que?” she breathes out. Hands finding their place softly on your cheeks, a look of urgency in her eyes.

“I want us to have kids. Me and you. I want that with you. Is that something you’re ready for?” you whisper, eyes looking deeply into hers.

“En serio?” she asks, as though she's afraid of the answer.

You nod in response. Moving your hand to wipe away the tears that have appeared on her cheeks.

“Sí, Mi Amor. Quiero eso contigo. Mucho.”

You're both smiling too much to kiss, but you make a good go of it anyway. And as you bury yourself into your wife's arms. Hands roaming and adrenaline of a decision made rushing through your body you can't help but think.

This is the beginning of the biggest adventure of your life. 

[alsofoundinpeas]

Only Ever You

Summary: Y/N knows her husband can be a bit oblivious when it comes to women flirting with him, but when a local officer oversteps during their latest case, she reaches her breaking point. She’s exhausted from feeling like she’s always second to every other woman. Now, it's up to Spencer to prove that no one will ever come before her.

Requested fic!! : I was hoping you could write an angsty-angry-smutty fic surrounding Spencer exasperatingly telling Reader: “Cat Adams could offer herself up wide open on a bed. In fact she has! JJ could leave Will for me. Maeve could fucking walk back in here right now. And I would still choose you!”

At some point in their love-making Reader tells Spencer “you always choose women who take and take and take from you. Giving nothing of themselves back but you deserve everything. I want to give you my everything”. They essentially worship each other endlessly. In so many ways.

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+!! MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. This was written with Season 14 Reid in mind btw :) Intense argument between Reader and Spencer (Reader is hurt and is kind of harsh). Very brief mentions of past infidelity (done by Reader's ex-partners). Jealous reader!! Crying during arguing (very brief by both parties). Oral (both m and f receiving), fingering (f!receiving), overstimulation (both m and f receiving), unprotected PinV sex (be safe irl!!), multiple orgasms (both m and f receiving), creampie (I wince every time I type that LMAO), slight exhibitionism (a call is made during sex), praise. Angst turned happy ending!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: First and foremost, thank you so very much to the anon who requested this!! I truly hope you enjoy it and that I wrote what you were hoping for :') <3 To everyone reading, welcome to my first fic of the new year!! I hope you guys enjoy it :) As always, please let me know what you guys think! If you like it, please consider dropping a like, reblogging it, or even sharing it with your friends :') I love you all!! <3 K

Something Y/N loathed about herself was her tendency to get overly jealous whenever other women (or even some men) were around Spencer. It wasn’t a matter of trusting him—she trusted Spencer with her life. But no amount of trust could erase the scars left by the betrayal of past partners who had cheated on her.

Y/N tried to hold back her annoyance whenever JJ hung around Spencer for what she considered far too long to be just friendly. She bit her tongue whenever a witness or suspect flirted with him. She had even managed to keep her cool one night when they went out for drinks with the team (a rare occasion) and Y/N returned from the bathroom to find the bartender borderline eye-fucking Spencer, even going so far as to reach for his arm.

Spencer’s obliviousness to women's advances toward him often made her blood boil, and as she had watched him that night, a knot of frustration tightened in her stomach. Her anger simmered, rising bitterly in her throat as she made her way toward them. Y/N knew the bartender had seen his wedding band—it was something Spencer wore like a badge of honor, always proudly visible.

Thankfully, Spencer pulled his arm away before she had to intervene, ranting about how the drink was meant for her, his wife before paying and storming back to their booth, clearly irked. In that moment, Y/N’s anger evaporated, replaced by a rush of relief as she was reminded of Spencer's unwavering love for her, a love he would always prove, with or without her presence. Rather than confronting the bartender, she turned and returned to the booth, curling up against Spencer with a contented smile, enjoying the rest of the night in his arms.

Tonight, Y/N struggled to remember that reminder as she cast a fierce glare at the back of Spencer's head from across the room.

The team had been dispatched to a small town in Oregon to investigate a particularly disturbing case where the unsub was leaving his victims strung up in the state forest along popular hiking trails, their stomachs or backs marked with cryptic quotes. Over the week, Spencer had struck up an unexpected connection with Officer Henley, a local who shared his deep knowledge of Edgar Allan Poe—particularly The Raven, from which the unsub was drawing his quotes. As the case dragged on, Y/N couldn’t ignore the growing tension, especially as Officer Henley—or Sarah, who kept insisting Spencer call her by her first name—made her interest in him all too apparent, while both women silently made their distaste for each other clear.

Tonight was testing Y/N’s patience and professionalism like never before. Spencer and Sarah had been assigned to decode the latest quote found on a victim, while Y/N focused on the geographical profile. Normally, she preferred the analysis over fieldwork, but tonight she would have rather been out in the damp forest searching for overlooked clues with the rest of the team than endure Sarah's loud, incessant laughter at some meaningless joke her husband had made.

Spencer, naturally, was just glad someone appreciated his sense of humor and remained blissfully unaware of Sarah’s clear attempts to flirt with him. To be honest, he found her a bit clingy and annoying, but he attributed it to her enthusiasm as a new officer—she had only joined the precinct a few months ago—and the excitement of working on a case far more intense than the usual petty theft or minor civil dispute her town had.

After another round of high-pitched laughter, Y/N reached her breaking point. With an exasperated sigh, she slammed the box of pins onto the table and stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. So consumed by frustration, she didn't even realize one of the pins had punctured the thin plastic until she reached for the doorknob, a muffled curse slipping from her lips as she noticed blood trickling down her finger.

The loud noise startled both Sarah and Spencer, causing them to turn quickly as Y/N stormed out of the room. Spencer’s brow furrowed with concern, and without a second thought, he excused himself, brushing past Sarah’s confused calls. It didn't take long for him to find Y/N in the breakroom, huddled in the corner, carefully applying a band-aid to her finger.

"Honey? Are you okay?" Spencer asked worriedly, making his way toward her.

Y/N looked up, unable to help the disgruntled look on her face as she huffed. “I’m fine. It was just a small poke, really. I don’t know why it bled so much,” she murmured, looking away to take a sip of the coffee she’d poured for herself.

The clock above the break room door ticked on, its hands marking a quarter past nine. Y/N's frustration simmered, a mix of exhaustion from the sleepless nights and irritation at Spencer’s obliviousness to Sarah’s clear interest in him. For someone with such sharp profiling skills, it baffled her that Spencer couldn't seem to read the obvious signs when it came to women.

Where he failed to read other women and their intentions, he had no such trouble with Y/N. He could read her effortlessly, which is why he immediately knew she was lying.

Spencer took a seat beside her, his gaze fixed on her face intently. He sat quietly for a moment before speaking up.

“What’s bothering you, sweetheart? Talk to me. Please?”

Spencer knew Y/N tended to bottle things up instead of letting them out, reluctant to share her feelings for fear of burdening him. He detested anyone in her life who had contributed to that insecurity. In his eyes, she would never be a bother for simply expressing how she felt.

Before Y/N could respond, her phone rang, and she silently welcomed the interruption. She wasn’t sure she could explain to Spencer why she was so upset—especially over something as irrational as him making another woman laugh. She knew, logically, that he would never (knowingly) encourage any flirting, yet the feeling still nagged at her. He was her husband. She loved him more than anything, and the idea of another woman encroaching on what they had stung more than she cared to admit.

Y/N held a finger up before answering the call with a brisk “Agent Y/L/N speaking.”

“Yikes, that was cold. You okay?”

When Tara’s voice came through the phone, Y/N immediately felt a twinge of guilt for how she’d answered, but it quickly faded as her shoulders eased and she exhaled softly.

“I’ll explain later. What’s up?”

“We’re not making any progress here, and since it’s so late, Emily thinks we should head to the Inn and get some rest. You definitely sound like you could use it,” Tara said with a soft chuckle.

She wasn’t wrong. The case, combined with Sarah’s behavior, had Y/N feeling stretched thin and irritable. The sleep deprivation certainly wasn’t helping. A small grin tugged at her lips before she replied.

“You know me too well, ma’am. You get some rest too. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Y/N hung up the phone and met Spencer’s inquisitive gaze. “That was Tara. Emily gave the go-ahead to wrap up and head to the Inn,” she explained, offering him a small, tired smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Spencer nodded, his gaze lingering on her with quiet concern as they stood. He said nothing as they walked back to the conference room to pack up for the night, choosing not to press her about whatever was troubling her. He made a mental note to bring it up later, at a better time. They still had an unsub to catch, and adding more stress to an already challenging case wouldn’t help either of them.

After five more long, excruciating days of watching Sarah blatantly flirt with her husband and ignoring the team's questioning glances, Y/N finally got the break she all but begged the universe for.

By some miracle, they had finally tracked down the unsub. A slip-up at his latest crime scene had not only left his DNA behind, but he was also in the system for previous crimes and still lived at the same address. The evidence they found in his home during the arrest was more than damning, so Emily decided the local police captain could take it from there, handling the interrogation and everything else.

The flight back to Quantico was tense, and Y/N chose to sit with Tara instead of Spencer. His defense of Sarah—especially after Y/N confronted her for grabbing his phone and putting her number in it "as a friend"—had been the breaking point. Now, she was actively ignoring him, despite his repeated pleas at the Inn while they packed for her to just tell him what was wrong so he could fix it. She knew it was petty. She knew she should be mature and talk to him about it. But she was hurt. All she wanted was for her husband to recognize when other women were making moves on him before it crossed a line—like with the bartender who thought it was okay to touch him.

The drive home was unbearable. Spencer’s hands were clenched around the wheel, his knuckles pale from the pressure, while Y/N faced the window, staring out into the darkness, her body turned away from him. The silence between them was deafening, with neither of them saying a word the entire ride.

That silence ended the instant Y/N slammed the door behind them after they’d brought in their go-bags.

“Y/N, seriously, what the fuck is your problem?” Spencer snapped, his frustration bubbling over. He had tried being patient, asking her again and again to just tell him what was wrong, but now he was done. After the long, grueling case they'd gotten back from, all he wanted was to hold his wife, not fight with her.

“What the fuck is my problem?!” Y/N scoffed incredulously. “What the fuck is your problem Spencer?”

Y/N stormed toward their bedroom, flinging her bag into the corner to deal with later. Spinning on her heels, she brushed past Spencer—who had been trailing her—and made her way to the kitchen. Spencer sighed, setting his bag next to their closet and placing his phone on his nightstand before turning to follow after her.

“Or better yet, why don’t you ask Sarah what my problem is?” she shot at him, her words laced with bitterness. “After all, she was kind enough to give you her number, and you two seem to get along so well!” Y/N stopped abruptly, turning to face him, her expression fierce.

Spencer scoffed, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head as he crossed his arms. "Seriously? You’re this upset because a woman was being friendly with me?"

Y/N laughed sharply, the mix of anger and hurt making her delirious. She nodded slowly, lifting her gaze to his, her tongue pressing into her cheek as her eyes narrowed. With a deliberate step forward, she closed the distance between them. “As brilliant as you are, that might just be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say in all the years I’ve known you,” she hissed, her glare fiery as she looked up at him.

Spencer's throat tightened as his pulse quickened, staring at her in disbelief. He had never seen his wife so furious, and a sinking feeling of dread settled deep in his stomach. His lips parted, but before he could speak, she turned on her heel, moving around the counter to put space between them.

“I’m at a loss, Spencer,” Y/N sighed, her head dropping as her fingers drummed against the countertop. “If you honestly think her behavior was just friendly, I don’t even know what to say to you.” She looked up at him, her voice shaking with frustration as she got louder and louder. “And on top of all that, you defended her over me—your wife! Do you know how embarrassing that was? I would never, in a million years, defend another man over you!”

With the case no longer consuming his thoughts, Spencer took a moment to truly reflect on Sarah’s behavior. What he had once brushed off as clingy and overenthusiastic now seemed undeniably inappropriate. He had been so focused on the case that he hadn’t given it the attention it deserved.

Y/N was right, and he knew now that he’d been wrong to defend another woman over her. He had convinced himself that Y/N was overreacting when Sarah put her number in his phone, but now he understood. Y/N was his wife, and the guilt of making her feel hurt and humiliated weighed heavily on him.

“Y/N—“ Spencer hesitated, sighing before he continued. “Sweetheart, I never meant to make you feel like I was putting someone else before you. You know that, right?” Spencer’s voice was soft, his guilt clear in every word.

Y/N’s lip quivered as she stared at him, shaking her head before releasing a strained breath.

“No, Spencer. I don’t know that. Because, no matter what, I always end up on the back burner when it comes to other women in your life. Sometimes, it honestly feels like you’re deliberately oblivious to it—like you don’t care enough to notice or do something about it. Like you’ll always choose another woman over me."

Her words hit Spencer harder than he expected, stirring up a well of emotion he hadn’t realized was there. Anger bubbled up inside him, but it wasn’t aimed at her—not for a second. It was anger directed at himself, for making Y/N feel like she would ever come second to anyone.

Spencer realized now why he had been so oblivious to the other women’s attention. It was because he was so in love with her, so completely devoted, that he couldn’t even entertain the idea of anyone else wanting him. He didn’t care about them in the slightest—how could he when he had the most incredible, most beautiful woman alive as his wife?

“Is that… is that truly how I’ve made you feel?” Spencer whispers, a devastated look on his face as he took a trembling step toward her. “Like I’d choose any other woman over you, sweetheart?”

Y/N nodded, swallowing down the lump in her throat as a tear slipped down her cheek at the admission.

Spencer slowly made his way around the counter, giving her time to back away if she didn’t want him near her right now. Once he reached her, he gently guided her face up to look at his before swiping the tear from her cheek.

“My darling girl,” he murmured, his voice unwavering as he cradled her face. “Cat Adams could offer herself up to me wide open on a bed a thousand times—it wouldn’t matter. JJ could walk away from Will tonight, tomorrow, whenever, and it wouldn’t change a thing. Even if Maeve herself walked through that door right now…” Spencer paused, his expression softening. “I’d still choose you. Always you. Only you. In this life, and in every life. Without a second of hesitation. Without an ounce of doubt.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words, her eyes studying his face for any indication that he was lying. But all she saw was raw honesty and regret, his eyes brimming with tears. Her eyes closed as another tear slipped down her cheek, and slowly, she leaned into his touch, her shoulders finally giving way with a quiet surrender.

"You really mean that?" Y/N asked, her insecurity still overpowering the evidence before her.

Spencer pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as he gently cradled the back of her head with one hand and drew her waist against him with the other. “Of course I mean it, my sweet girl,” he murmured, pressing his face into her hair, his eyes slipping shut. “I’m so, truly sorry for not showing you that sooner. But I swear, from now on, I will. No one—no one—could ever mean more to me than you.”

Y/N kept her arms around him, her face pressed against his chest as she let his words sink in. After a beat, she pulled back with a soft exhale, wiping her eyes before meeting his gaze. “I’m still angry with you,” she said, poking a finger into his chest before trailing her hand up to gently tug at his tie. “But that definitely helped your case,” she added, a playful spark lighting her eyes as she slowly untied his knot. “I might even let you sleep in our bed tonight.”

A low chuckle rumbled in Spencer’s chest as he raised an eyebrow, his hands settling on her waist while she worked at his tie. “Any chance I can turn that ‘might’ into a ‘will’?” he murmured, his voice laced with teasing. “Because I can think of a few ways to plead my case.”

As he spoke, his hands slid underneath her blouse to rub maddening circles into her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. Y/N tilted her head, humming thoughtfully as she let his loose tie slip from her fingers, falling to the floor. It had been almost two weeks since the last time she and Spencer had done anything remotely sexual, and the idea of make-up sex was more than appealing.

“We’ll see,” Y/N whispered, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she pressed her hand against his chest and rose onto her toes to kiss him.

Spencer melted into the kiss, turning to press her gently against the counter. A low groan escaped his lips before he deepened the kiss, trailing a hand down her side to hike her leg up around his waist while the other settled against the side of her neck. His thumb stroked her jawline as he pressed further into her touch.

"I love how hard you get from just a few kisses," Y/N muttered against his lips. "Maybe you really are sorry after all."

"My angel girl," Spencer cooed between kisses, trailing his lips down her neck to her exposed collarbone. "I'll prove to you—" A soft gasp fell from Y'N's lips as he sucked a mark into her skin. "—just how sorry I am…” Her head tipped back as he began to kneel before her, placing both hands on her waist as he peppered kisses down her clothed body. “And worship you in the way you’ve deserved—“ Her gaze met his as he lifted her foot, resting it on his thigh before undoing the strap of her high heel. “—for so, so long.”

Y/N’s hands gripped the counter as she watched him through hooded eyes, a breath of relief releasing into the air as he slipped her shoe off, letting it hit the ground beside them with a quiet thump. He kept her foot on his thigh, placing a kiss on her knee through her slacks as he began to massage her tense calf muscles under the fabric. Once he was satisfied with the appreciative groans falling from her lips, he did the same with the other side, removing her high heel and massaging her leg.

Spencer sat her foot back down on the ground before reaching for the button of her slacks, popping it open. Her breath hitched as he leaned forward, tugging her zipper down with his teeth. The moment her zipper was completely down, he reached up, startling her from her haze as he yanked the fabric down her legs.

“Spence!” Y/N said, her laugh tinged with amusement as he merely shrugged, a mischievous spark in his eyes and a smirk tugging at his lips.

He helped her step out of the fabric, keeping his hands on her hips to steady her while she kicked her pants to the side. His lips eagerly pressed to her newly exposed skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the waistband of her panties. “You’re not the only one that’s still angry here,” Spencer mumbled against her skin, tracing his fingers up her thighs to drag her soaked panties down her legs.

“Wait… what are you angry about?” Y/N's face contorted, caught between confusion and irritation.

“I’m angry—“ A wet kiss pressed against her hip bone. “At myself—“ Another wet kiss pressed to her outer thigh. “For making you feel—“ Her face relaxed as he eased her left thigh over his shoulder. “Like I’d ever—“ A series of soft kisses to her inner thigh made her tense with anticipation. “Put anyone else above you, sweetheart.”

In one swift movement, his tongue dragged up her arousal, a guttural groan rumbling against her slick skin as he began to devour her. Y/N’s hands shot out to thread through his hair with a sharp gasp, her mouth dropping open as moans started to spill from her lips. His hands found her ass, gripping her tightly and digging his fingertips into the soft flesh there as he all but suffocated himself in her folds.

"Oh my—" Y/N rasped, cutting herself off with a whine as he let out a needy moan in response.

Her grip on his hair tightened, pulling him impossibly closer as she began to rock her hips against his face. Her eyes squeezed shut, bursts of color flickering behind her eyelids as Spencer worked his mouth against her. His movements alternated between fucking his tongue into her and suckling her clit greedily, the combination hurtling her toward her orgasm.

Spencer was painfully hard, his erection tenting his slacks as he reveled in the taste of her. One of his favorite things to do after a stressful case (which, frankly, was most of them) was bury his face between her thighs. Her taste was truly addictive, and he'd find himself craving it the longer he went without having her. It was as though the more he could make her legs shake around his head and the harder he could make her cum, the faster the stress evaporated from his body. And now he was working extra hard to make her feel good, eager to redeem himself for his behavior.

A tremulous moan ripped through the air as Y/N hunched over, whimpering his name mindlessly as her first orgasm of the night tore through her. Spencer groaned into her as her nails dug into his scalp, the slight sting sending a pang of longing coursing through him as he ached to feel those nails dragging down his back. His movements slowed, easing her through the aftermath of her climax as she panted above him. Once she was whining and shoving his head away, he gently lowered her leg to the ground, standing with a soft chuckle as she swayed slightly.

“Easy, sweetheart. Come on, hold on to me,” Spencer murmured, his hand soothingly rubbing her back as she clung to him.

Y/N let out a breathless laugh, burying her face in his chest as she trembled in his embrace. "God, you're too good at that," she sighed, placing a kiss on his collarbone before pulling back to look up at him. "Take me to our room so I can return the favor?"

The grin on her face was infectious, and Spencer found himself smiling as he nodded. "Yes ma'am," he murmured teasingly.

They stripped their remaining clothes in between giggly kisses, littering the hallway with the fabric before they finally made it into their room. Y/N looped her arms around Spencer's neck, backing him against the closed door as she leaned up to kiss him hungrily. Spencer's hands roamed her body, whimpering into her mouth as her hand trailed down his body to wrap around his cock.

"Honey, you really don't have to—"

Spencer hissed against her lips, his sentence interrupted as she began to pump her hand slowly. "I'm supposed to be making it up to you—"

Y/N shushed him, nipping his lower lip gently before breaking their kiss completely. His cock twitched in her hand from the way she was looking up at him so reverently, and he swallowed hard as he stopped his protesting.

"You always chose women who took and took from you, offering nothing in return. But you deserve everything, my sweet boy. I want to give you all that I am, just like you give me all that you are. Let me make you feel good too, Spence."

There was no room for argument as her words hung in the air, causing his heart to tighten. She was right. He’d always been drawn to selfish partners, always putting their needs before his own. Or, in Cat Adam's case, completely insane women hellbent on draining him of his sanity. That was what made Y/N so surprising to him from the start. Even when they were just colleagues with unspoken crushes, long before they were a couple, she was the one woman who always made a point to put him first.

When he nodded, she grinned in satisfaction, placing one last lingering kiss on his lips before sinking to her knees. Spencer felt like his brain malfunctioned anytime he was lucky enough to see her like this—kiss swollen lips glistening as she wet her lips, or her pupils dilated so much he could barely make out the color in her beautiful irises as she stared up at him. No matter how many times he saw her like this, he would never stop being captivated by how stunning she was.

His head fell back against the door with a solid thunk as his brows pinched together at the feeling of her lips wrapping around the swollen head of his arousal, a sharp exhale leaving his nose as he tried to steady himself. She'd barely touched him and yet he could already feel his stomach tightening simply from the anticipation of what he knew was coming next. A throaty moan filled the air as she swirled her tongue around him before taking his length deeper, gagging slightly as he hit the back of her throat.

"Fuck!" Spencer whined, forcing himself to look down at her instead of squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure. "Love it when you take me so deep, sweetheart. Just like that—"

Y/N smirked smugly around her mouthful, beginning to bob her head up and down his aching cock. One of her favorite things about Spencer was how, despite everyone seeing him as soft-spoken and mild-mannered because he rarely cursed in front of others, he had an absolutely filthy mouth when they did anything even remotely sexual. It felt like her own dirty little secret, and she couldn't help but revel in it.

It didn't take long for his hips to begin bucking gently into her mouth, his hands cradling the back of her head as his chest heaved. Helpless moans slipped from his lips between murmured praises, his hooded eyes locked on her so as not to miss a single second of the show she was putting on for him.

"So fucking pretty with my cock between your lips. My pretty girl. God, I'm the luckiest man to ever exist to have you as my wife—" Spencer crooned between labored breaths, his teeth digging harshly into his lower lip as a guttural groan cut off his rambling. "I'm close— I-I'm— fuck!"

Spencer cried out as Y/N swallowed around his cock, her nose pressing into the soft curls at the base of him as saliva dripped down her chin and onto her chest. The feeling of her moaning around him sent him over the edge, a string of whorish moans and whimpers falling from his open mouth as he painted the back of her throat with his essence. His knees almost buckled as she kept sucking through his orgasm, a pitiful whine leaving him as she finally released him with a slick 'pop'.

Despite feeling like he'd quite literally had his soul sucked from his body, Spencer still held his hand out to help her up from the ground. He pulled her into him as she stood, pressing sweet kisses to the top of her head as he caught his breath. Y/N peppered kisses along his warm skin, more than pleased with herself.

"Get on the bed," Spencer mumbled hoarsely into her hair, landing a gentle smack to her ass.

Y/N eagerly obliged, crawling into the middle of their bed and situating herself amongst their pillows. Her gaze fell on him as he slowly made his way over, her breath hitching at the ravenous look in his eyes.

Spencer had always been a generous lover, making sure she came at least twice before their lovemaking ended. Throughout their relationship, he tended to lean more on the submissive side, happily allowing Y/N to guide their intimate moments any way she saw fit. But after prison, it was like something had snapped in him.

Now, he wasn’t afraid to get rough with her (within her limits, of course). Where he’d once been hesitant to grip too hard or move too fast, he’d now easily leave fingerprint-shaped bruises and pound into her until tears leaked from her eyes from how good it felt. There were still days when he’d let Y/N take the reigns, days when the world was so heavy that all he wanted to do was shut his brain off and let her use him to get herself off, but those days were rare.

Y/N welcomed the change with open arms, excited to let Spencer tap into and explore his more dominant side. Truthfully, she was surprised by how much she enjoyed letting go of control. Her job forced her to be tougher than she liked—always having to stand her ground with local officers or unsubs who underestimated her simply because she was a woman. With Spencer, it felt freeing to leave that hard-edged persona behind, letting him dote on her and take control of her pleasure.

Spencer stopped at the foot of their bed, a wicked look on his face as he observed her. Y/N felt her cheeks warm under the scrutiny of his gaze, shifting restlessly as she waited to see what he was going to do. He kneeled onto the mattress, shuffling forward until he hovered above her.

Instead of speaking, he ducked down and left a lingering kiss on her forehead before lying on his side beside her. Y/N shifted to face him, but he stopped her, keeping her in place on her back. "Like this, sweetheart," he whispered, pressing his lips against her temple. He propped up, guiding his right arm underneath her so he could cradle her head while nipping her earlobe gently.

Spencer trailed a hand down her body, chuckling as she squirmed in his hold. He gripped her thigh firmly, bringing her leg up to rest on his waist to allow him better access to her dripping folds. Spencer began kissing down her neck, relishing in the soft sighs Y/N let out as he angled his hips to nudge the head of his hardening cock against her pussy.

"Need you so bad, Spence—" Y/N whimpered as his hand left her thigh to rub teasing circles against her clit. "Please!"

Spencer hummed, dipping his head down to take her nipple into his mouth as he picked up the pace of his fingers. When she whined louder, he dipped a finger down to tease her entrance and swirled his tongue around her pert bud in retaliation.

"Shh, pretty girl. I'll take care of you," Spencer cooed as he pulled away from her breast. "I always do," he murmured, pressing his finger into her while meeting her lips in a tender kiss.

One of Spencer's favorite things about this position was how accessible it made her. He loved having her spread open for him, unable to do much of anything besides take the pleasure he delivered. He also loved how deep it allowed him to get, able to bring her to the brink over and over because of the constant stimulation to her g-spot.

Moans continued to spill from Y/N's lips as he added a second finger, her hips rolling into his touch frantically. Calling their kiss a kiss seemed too generous—it was more a messy, half-hearted press of lips together. She reached up, tugging at his curls hard as her climax rapidly approached. She was so close—

Spencer swiftly removed his fingers, breaking their kiss to stuff the digits into her mouth before she could complain. He thrust his hips forward, pushing into her in one smooth movement. Y/N let out a muffled cry around his fingers, her eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of him filling her.

"God— shit, baby," Spencer groaned loudly, stilling his hips once he bottomed out to let her adjust. "Always so fucking wet and so fucking tight."

She clenched hard around him, still dangerously close to cumming. Spencer pressed his forehead to her temple as he began to move, thrusting into her in slow, hard thrusts. His right hand stroked her hair while his left slipped from her lips to grip her thigh again, keeping her spread open for him as his pace began to increase.

"So good for me, sweetheart. So perfect," Spencer panted, driving into her in sharp, wild thrusts now. He could tell she was close, and he wanted to feel her falling apart around his cock more than anything.

"Feels so good, Spence," Y/N whined, panting as the pleasure began to coil tightly in her stomach. "Always fuck me so good—"

A choked moan ripped its way from her throat as she came around him, the feeling of her clenching around him causing Spencer's hips to falter as he cursed under his breath. Y/N writhed beneath him, whimpering as he kept his grip tight on her thigh to keep her from clamping her legs shut.

"You can take another one, can't you pretty girl?" Spencer murmured, moving to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone as he slowed his hips to help ease her through the overstimulation. "I know you can," he cooed encouragingly. "My precious girl. You always take me so well."

Y/N nodded frantically, the sting of overstimulation beginning to fade back into dizzying pleasure as he fucked into her gently. Spencer pressed a kiss to her shoulder, praising her softly before an idea came to mind. He wanted her to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that no other woman could ever take her place or come before her, right?

What better way to do that than by calling the woman who sparked this argument and showing her exactly what she couldn’t have and who she could never be?

Spencer slowed his thrusts to a halt, chuckling breathlessly as Y/N whined in protest. "On your stomach for me, sweetheart," he coaxed her gently, slipping out of her so she could flip over.

Once she was settled on her front, Spencer slipped a pillow beneath her hips and kissed the back of her head before bending to whisper into her ear.

"How would you feel if I called Sarah right now to show her exactly how much my gorgeous wife means to me—and how insignificant her 'friendship' is in comparison?"

Y/N grinned smugly, shoving her face into the pillow tucked under her head as her face warmed. Was it petty? Absolutely. Had she ever been more turned on than when she heard those words leave her husband's lips? She doubted it. It felt almost primal, staking her claim in such a way. But Sarah more than deserved it for how she'd acted... so fuck it.

"Do it."

Spencer smirked at her muffled words, reaching for his phone and setting it beside them. He lined back up at her entrance, pushing into her with a groan as her warmth enveloped him once more. Once he set a steady rhythm, with Y/N so lost in her pleasure she'd almost forgotten about their plan entirely, he hit dial on Sarah's contact.

Sarah groggily sat up, reaching for her phone as it rang. A sly smirk tugged at her lips when she saw who was calling, and she answered with a hint of excitement. "Well, hey there, handsome. Does your wife know you’re calling me at this hour?" she purred, her grin widening as she waited for him to speak. She knew he was into her—

Sarah’s brows furrowed as she was met with rustling on the other end of the line followed by a very clear moan. Her smile dropped, her mouth gaping open in shock as she listened.

“Fuck, Y/N—“ Spencer’s muffled grunt came through the speakers before he continued, the bed squeaking with each rough thrust. “I love you so fucking much. My beautiful wife. God, sweetheart—"

Sarah dropped the phone, appalled by what was happening on the other end and embarrassed by how confidently she'd answered the phone. One thing was clear—he definitely wasn't into her. Her face burned as she realized she hadn't actually ended the call, the sound of muffled moans streaming through the phone as she hunted for it in the covers. Once it was back in her hands, Sarah ended the call abruptly, blinking hard as she stared down at the screen while she tried to process what had just happened. Spencer had to have butt-dialed her... right?

Spencer chuckled darkly as he realized Sarah had ended the call, reaching up to shove the phone further up the bed and out of the way before he began pounding even harder into Y/N. She was close again, clenching deliciously around him and hurtling him towards his own orgasm just as quickly. He clasped their hands together, shoving them into the mattress as he buried his head in the crook of her neck with a guttural groan.

"I'm cumming— fuck, Spence, fuck!" Y/N cried out, thrashing underneath him as she came so hard her vision blacked at the edges.

Spencer followed suit, burying himself inside of her with a choked groan as he came. His head rested on her shoulder, his hips rocking gently through the aftershocks of their orgasms until they were both whimpering from the sensitivity. He pressed one last, lingering kiss to her flushed skin before rolling off of her and onto the bed with a deep exhale.

Spencer pulled Y/N into him, stroking a hand down her back as she trembled. "Such a good girl, sweetheart. Always do so good for me. My beautiful girl. I love you so much," he whispered reverently, holding her while she came down from her high.

"I love you, Spence. With everything that I am," Y/N whispered back, lifting herself up enough to kiss him tenderly.

It took a few minutes before either of them could get up to get cleaned up, with Spencer guiding her to the bathroom with a hand wrapped around her waist to steady her. Their shower was spent murmuring apologies and praises to each other, the both of them expressing just how much they loved each other between soapy passes of the loofah and tired giggles as they washed away the remnants of the night. And as he wrapped her into a towel, Spencer couldn't help the grin that broke across his face at her quiet words.

"You can absolutely sleep in the bed tonight—just as long as you change the sheets first."

Continued A/N's: I still have a few requests to fill after this and then I'll be posting some original ideas before I open requests back up! Thank you guys so much for the requests, they've been so much fun to write and I hope you guys are enjoying them as much as I am! :') <3

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[brairslair]

Hii! I hope you've had a great day so far, could i request a trafalger law × fem!reader who's like super horny all the time and just begs for law's attention and his cock all the time? Do what you want with the request, I just want this to be the basic premise, also i would like a friends with benenfits relationship kinda thing, but they do like eachother but just arent together yet!

Thank you, and have a great day! Please remember to take breaks, don't rush yourself and to take care of yourself!

@kyokikia thank you so much for this request ml! so sorry for the actual insane wait 🙏🏻

EVERYONE IS 18+ (minors gtfo)

a/n: idk why i struggled so much with this prompt, but i think i got something kind of coherent? definitely not my best work and a lil short, but hopefully you enjoy reading what i came up with!

don’t forget to like, reblog, comment, and follow to support my work! it always makes my day mwah

“made me wait enough”

Your mouth waters as you watch Law lean back in his seat, legs spread, head thrown back in a frustrated groan. His hands drag down his face and a sliver of skin peaks out from where his shirt rides up, and you almost moan. Your fingers buzz with the desire to touch him.

It’s been torture all week. Law’s been absolutely drowning in work, to the point where he’s been sleeping through the nights in his office chair instead of his bed.

Usually, you were admittedly pretty needy; something Law liked to tease you for. Constantly running your mouth, begging for him to give you a drop of his attention, to take care of you and ease the ache that seems to always be present when he’s around. It’s absolutely agonizing to give him space, but you’ve always respected his work ethic and ambition, and would never want to get in his way.

However, he’s been making it inexplicably difficult for you to keep to yourself. He’s barely said a word to you or the rest of the crew that wasn’t a captain’s order. You’re starting to feel actual physical pain from the distance.

You’re used to spending much more time with him, having been best friends for the better part of the last four years. If anyone has the right to be frustrated with his absence, it’s you.

You miss talking to him.

You miss his company.

You miss the way he looks at you when you cling to him.

You miss the way his hands feel when he touches you.

Your legs discreetly press together where you stand, hovering at the entrance to his office, mug of hot coffee in hand.

Coffee usually helps stoke the flames when his energy starts to dwindle, so you figured you would bring him the much needed pick-me-up before you make your way to bed. Alone.

You didn’t factor in how difficult it would be to keep yourself from jumping his bones.

Seemingly unaware of your ogling, you clear your throat to make yourself known before stepping in, setting the steaming mug on his desk.

“Thought you could use it.” You smile awkwardly, trying to conceal the filthy thoughts swirling in your head while he looks up at you through half lidded eyes. You could strangle him for making this so difficult.

He glances at the mug, then back at you, muttering a soft “Thank you.”

He looks mesmerizing when he’s tired. Hazy, far off, and soft around the edges. Your chest is aching and your throat burns with hidden desires clawing their way up your throat.

“Is there anything else you need, Captain? I’m heading to bed.” You mutter softly, praying he’ll take the hint and decide to join you.

His eyebrows twitch but he simply shakes his head, “This should do.”

His eyes burn through to your soul.

Usually you would have caved long ago, whining and begging for him to let you touch him, to take care of you the way he knew you needed it, but you wouldn't cave this time. You needed to remind yourself that he's an important man with important duties to attend to, and you would rather suffer than hold him back.

Instead, you force out a curt “Goodnight”, turning on your heels before the dam breaks and you start babbling nonsense.

Before you can take a step towards the door, you’re halted by a gentle hand around your wrist. The touch makes you shudder, biting back a whine. You missed his hands.

“You’ve been different.” Law states quietly, though you know it’s meant to be a question.

You can’t allow yourself to look at him yet. You know you’ll cave.

“You’ve been busy.”

Law hums in understanding and disappointment, gently tugging your arm to face him. Your legs feel like jelly under his gaze.

The longer he looks at you, the more aware you are of how dry your mouth is suddenly, how your stomach feels tight with restraint, and how he’s looking at you like he can read your every thought.

Law soothes his thumb along your pulse, stopping to feel your heart race beneath his fingertip. His sharp smile twists into your gut.

It fascinates you, the patience and temperment Law expresses so easily, things you’ve never been able to harness.

With a shaky sigh, you finally let go of your tongue, unable to hold back any longer.

“Please, Law? I need you.”

His hands are on you in an instant, smoothing over your curves like butter as he pulls you to straddle his hips. The second his lips touch yours, you can’t stop yourself from pulling and twisting at his shirt, seconds away from ripping it to shreds. Needy whines flow freely as you desperately rock your hips.

Law rubs a calming hand against your back, and you can feel the corners of his lips twitch with a smile against yours.

He teasingly nips at your bottom lip, and is pleased at the lewd noise it draws from your throat.

“There she is.” He grins, and you groan when he pulls away to trail down your neck. His fingers dance under your shirt, leaving goosebumps up your back as he makes work to unclasp your bra.

Your skin feels like it’s on fire, melting into him like molten lava. Every touch sends your brain into overdrive, and you need to feel more.

“Please, Law, don’t tease me.” You whine, hips stuttering, struggling to keep up with your head, “I’ve been so patient. I didn’t wanna disturb your work, but I can’t help it.”

You ramble into his ear, already barely coherent and digging your nails into his shoulders to steel yourself.

You press yourself against his chest, kissing and licking at his jaw, “I’ve missed you.”

Law cradles your cheek to sweetly kiss the corner of your mouth, dotting a feather light trail across your cheek. It’s his way of saying “I missed you too. I’m sorry.”

Your hand trails down to the zipper of his pants, but he stops you, pulling your wrist to his lips before placing it back on his shoulder. You protest as tears start to dot at your lash line.

“Let me feel you. I need to feel you.” You’re begging now, trembling against him as your patience dwindles. “I need you so bad it hurts.”

Law kisses you softly, like an anchor pulling you back down to him, grounding you. He tugs at your shirt in a silent order, and you pull away only to throw it carelessly on the floor beside you, along with your bra.

His cold hands immediately trail your exposed skin, not leaving an inch untouched. You’re practically limp against him at this point, overwhelmed and sobbing into his chest.

“Just fuck me already, made me wait enough.” You plead, tugging at his hair as you whisper filth in his ear, “Need your cock, Law, so bad. Please.”

A groan rumbles in his chest at your words, twitching in his pants. His fingers press into the fat of your hips, slowing your rocking motion to a slow rumble, rolling your clothed core against the tent in his jeans at an agonizingly perfect pace. His eyes darken when you gasp and whimper, already crumbling in his hands.

“Cum for me like this and I’ll give you anything you want.”

asks are open!

[deliciousangelfestival]

Let's Play Pretend - 1 | Bucky

Character: Bucky Barnes x singer! Female reader

Summary: You just wanted to hide here and find peace from the mess that wasn’t caused by you. But then, your hot neighbor bothered you. As if that wasn’t enough, the enemies you hated found you too.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband on Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Shocking Split! Y/N L/N Dumps Fiancé After Drug Party Scandal

Betrayal Drama! Y/N L/N’s Manager Caught Stealing Millions for Gambling

Where’s Y/N? The Singer Vanishes Amid Scandals!

“I’ve always wanted to be a singer, but I never had the confidence to stand on a stage—until my music teacher, Mrs. Walls. She believed in me.”

Mrs. Walls sighed as she watched your Grammy interview on TV. You looked radiant, glowing with excitement after winning such a prestigious award. As a music teacher with years of experience, she had worked with many talented students, but you stood out uniquely.

At first, you were the shyest student in her class, hardly speaking above a whisper. But what surprised her the most was your natural gift: a perfect pitch. You could write down the notes to a song after hearing it just once, and you picked up musical instruments with ease. She vividly remembered showing you basic piano chords; within minutes, you were playing along effortlessly. The same thing happened when she introduced the guitar.

Her fondest memories were of you standing shyly at the front of the class, yet lighting up when it came to music. She smiled as she recalled your speeches at award shows: “I wouldn’t be here without my music teacher, Mrs. Walls. She was the first person who put faith in me.”

“That’s the last interview she gave us,” the gossip channel host said dramatically, feigning concern. “It’s been three months since anyone’s seen her. Where is Y/N L/N?”

Mrs. Walls frowned and turned off the TV with an annoyed grunt. “Urgh. Gossip vultures,” she muttered under her breath. She grabbed a glass of lemonade from the fridge and walked out to her garden. She noticed her guest seemed lost in thought, staring off into the distance. It had become a habit whenever she was in the garden.

“You’re not thirsty, huh?” she teased lightly, holding the glass toward someone sitting under the garden umbrella.

The person she handed the drink to was none other than the missing singer, Y/N L/N. For three months, the paparazzi had been on your trail, but they had no idea you were hiding here—in the sanctuary of your former music teacher’s home.

Mrs. Walls still remembered the night you appeared on her doorstep, mascara streaked down your face, eyes red and swollen from crying. You looked nothing like the glamorous star she’d seen on television, but instead like a lost child searching for safety.

“I don’t know where else to go,” you had whispered, your voice trembling.

In that moment, she didn’t see the world-renowned singer. She saw the shy, seven-year-old girl who used to sit in her classroom, clutching her music notebook like a lifeline. She hugged you tightly, her heart breaking for you. “Stay as long as you need, my dear,” she had said softly, ushering you inside.

Since that night, you’d been living quietly in her guest room. The once-vibrant star barely spoke, and the silence worried Mrs. Walls more than she let on. She watched as you avoided stepping outside, terrified of being recognized. The only place you seemed at peace was her garden.

She wondered, How long will you keep hiding like this?

You took the lemonade from her hand with a quiet “Thank you” but set it on the small table beside you without taking a sip. Sitting on the bench, you leaned back, tilting your face up toward the sky. The sun was warm, filtering through the leaves of the garden trees. Through your Ray-Ban sunglasses, you watched the golden rays dance, letting them calm your stormy thoughts.

Here, in this little haven, you could pretend the outside world didn’t exist. The judging eyes, the betrayals, the relentless cameras—everything melted away in the sunlight.

You thought back to three months ago, just after wrapping up your world tour. It had been the most significant milestone in your career, a dream come true. Exhausted but proud, you returned home, excited to move on to the next chapter of your life—starting a family with your fiancé.

But the moment you landed, things began to unravel. You’d called your fiancé multiple times, but he didn’t answer. At first, you thought he was busy, but a nagging feeling in your chest wouldn’t go away.

When the truth finally came out, it shattered you. Your assistant broke the news: your fiancé had been busted at a drug-fueled party. Worse, it was also a sex party.

You felt your chest tighten at the memory. That betrayal had cut deep. But it wasn’t the only one.

Later that week, you discovered that your longtime manager, someone you trusted implicitly, had embezzled your money to feed a gambling addiction. Two people you thought you could rely on had betrayed you in the worst ways possible.

One night, overwhelmed and broken, you drove aimlessly, tears blurring your vision. Without any plan or destination, you just kept going until you found yourself parked outside Mrs. Walls’ familiar home.

Even after all these years, she had always been honest with you. When you needed guidance, she gave it without hesitation. If she thought something was right, she’d say, “Go for it, my dear.” If it wasn’t, she’d warn, “No. You deserve better.”

Now, sitting in her garden, you sighed and closed your eyes, letting the sunlight warm your face. For a moment, you could almost believe you were that shy student again before fame and heartbreak had found you.

Mrs. Walls watched you silently, her heart heavy. She wanted to help, but she knew you needed to find your way back on your own.

“How long are you planning to hide here?” she finally asked, her voice gentle but firm.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you opened your eyes and looked at her. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Just like this, Mrs. Walls worried about you. You knew you were taking advantage of her kindness, aware she wanted you to step out of your shell, but you weren’t ready. The thought of facing the questions, the prying eyes, and the silent judgment was too much.

Just a little more time, you thought. That’s all I need. And some peace.

But peace wasn’t always easy to come by.

"VROOM!"

A sudden loud roar shattered the tranquility of the garden. The grating sound of a lawn mower filled the air, making you wince. You covered your ears, irritation flashing across your face.

Your gaze turns toward the source of the noise. “It’s already noon. The sun’s scorching hot—what kind of madman decides this is the best time to mow their lawn?”

“Well…” Mrs. Walls trailed off, watching the man seated atop the lawn mower. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

It's her neighbor, a man who had recently moved in. He wasn’t just any neighbor—he was one of her former students. Not from her music classes, though. He’d been one of the troublemakers, a kid who lived on detention slips and second chances.

“Bucky!” she called out, her voice carrying across the garden.

The man paused, cutting the engine. The deafening noise stopped, leaving an almost eerie silence in its wake. He climbed off the lawn mower, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

You squinted, ready to roll your eyes, but then your gaze lingered for a moment longer than you wanted. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his broad chest glistened with sweat. The sun highlighted the sculpted lines of his six-pack, and every step he took radiated an infuriating confidence.

Great, you thought bitterly. Annoying and ridiculously good-looking. Just my luck.

Mrs. Walls met him halfway, handing him a glass of lemonade. “Thank you,” Bucky said, his voice low and smooth.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled your eyes. “You’re welcome for the noise pollution,” you muttered loud enough for him to hear.

He turned, raising an eyebrow at you. “You’re welcome for cutting the grass, princess.”

“Princess?” you repeated, your tone sharp. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re out here ruining everyone’s peace, and I’m the problem?”

He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest, the gesture only drawing more attention to his muscles. “Stop acting like a diva.”

Your jaw dropped. “I am a diva!”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, taking a long sip of lemonade.

“What rock have you been living under?” you snapped, glaring at him.

He rolled his eyes dramatically, his expression shifting to one of mild exasperation. What you didn’t know was that Bucky wasn’t as clueless as he seemed. For the past three years, he’d been living under the radar, cutting ties with his old life. His job had demanded secrecy, isolation, and sacrifice. He didn’t have the luxury of keeping up with the world, let alone pop culture or celebrity news.

The truth was, he hadn’t recognized you—not as the world-famous singer everyone else seemed to adore. To him, you were just the frustrating woman who had suddenly appeared in Mrs. Walls’ house and made everything more complicated.

But even as irritation bubbled under his skin, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued. There was a fire in you that clashed with his rough edges, and it both annoyed and fascinated him.

For Bucky, Mrs. Walls had always been a comforting presence—a grandmother figure who offered him advice and a safe space to talk. Her home had become a haven. And then you showed up.

Now, that peace was gone, replaced with constant banter and an energy that made it hard for him to stay indifferent.

Mrs. Walls watched the two of you, her lips twitching as if suppressing a smile. Despite your usual quiet demeanor, you seemed to come alive whenever Bucky was around.

“You two are like a pair of bickering children,” she muttered under her breath.

“Excuse me?” you said, shooting her a look.

“Nothing, dear,” she replied with a knowing smile, sipping her lemonade.

Bucky glanced at you, shaking his head. “You know, for someone who wants peace and quiet, you sure have a lot to say.”

“And for someone who wants to mow the lawn, you sure talk a lot for no reason,” you shot back, folding your arms.

Bucky laughed, low and mocking. “This is going to be fun.”

“Fun for you, maybe,” you muttered, turning your attention back to the garden, though your face was still flushed from the exchange.

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but glance at his retreating figure, hating how effortlessly confident he looked. Bucky, meanwhile, shook his head, pretending not to notice you watching him.

Both of you were equally exasperated—and similarly intrigued.

Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin, holding it up between two fingers with a smug grin. “Alright, princess, let’s make a deal. If it lands heads, I’ll keep mowing. If it’s tails, I’ll stop, and you can go back to your precious nap.”

You crossed your arms tightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “I hate this game,” you muttered, watching as the coin gleamed in the sunlight. He always did this—turning everything into some sort of challenge just to get under your skin.

Bucky smirked, clearly enjoying your irritation. “I know. That’s why it’s so much fun.”

Rolling your eyes, you huffed, “Tails.”

He nodded mock-seriously, flicking the coin into the air with practiced ease. It spun rapidly, catching the light with every turn before landing in his palm. He slapped it onto the back of his hand, then slowly revealed the result with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Heads,” he declared, his voice full of triumph.

“Ugh!” You threw your hands in the air, frustrated, pushing off the bench. As you stomped toward the house, the wooden slats creaked behind you, muttering, “I’m getting noise-canceling headphones.”

Mrs. Walls watched you retreat inside, shaking her head with a fond smile. She turned to Bucky, who was spinning the coin between his fingers like a magician showing off his trick.

“You really should stop teasing her,” Mrs. Walls said gently, her tone a mix of reproach and amusement.

Bucky shrugged, slipping the coin back into his pocket. His lips curled into a devilish grin. “Nah… it’s fun.”

🌷🌷🌷🌷

You peeked through the blinds, trying not to let the soft rustle of the fabric give you away. Outside, Bucky was still chatting casually with Mrs. Walls. He leaned against the handle of the lawn mower, his broad shoulders relaxed, and his expression unusually serene.

How could he be so normal and polite with her, yet every time he spoke to you, it felt like he lived to make you grit your teeth?

You narrowed your eyes, watching him laugh at something Mrs. Walls said. That face… you thought bitterly. What a waste of a perfectly good jawline and those stupid dimples.

Letting the blinds fall back into place with a soft snap, you turned away and headed to your room.

Inside, the space was dim, the curtains drawn tightly against the glaring afternoon sun. The cool, muted light was a welcome contrast to the irritation buzzing in your head. You kicked off your slippers with a little more force than necessary and flopped onto the bed, burying your face in the pillows.

The mattress was soft, and the faint scent of lavender from the room’s diffuser helped ease the tension in your shoulders. But even as you lay there, trying to block out the world, your mind kept drifting back to the smug grin on Bucky’s face and the way he seemed to revel in riling you up.

“Urgh,” you groaned, rolling onto your side and hugging the pillow close. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to forget about him.

Eventually, the steady hum of the ceiling fan and the distant chirping of birds outside began to lull you into a state of calm. Your breathing slowed, and your grip on the pillow loosened. For now, rest was the only thing you wanted—a reprieve from the relentless antics of your maddeningly handsome neighbor.

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

The dream came fast and vivid, like a storm. You were running—barefoot, your breath ragged and your heart pounding in your chest. Behind you, shadowy figures loomed, their voices sharp and cruel. The flash of cameras blinded you, their light like fire against your skin. You kept running, your legs aching, but the ground felt like quicksand, pulling you down.

You jolted awake, gasping for air. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as your heart raced, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to your mind. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, you saw the dim, glowing numbers: 2:00 a.m.

Sleep felt impossible now. The stillness of the house, once comforting, now felt suffocating. You swung your legs off the bed and walked to the window, pushing it open. Cool air rushed in, brushing against your flushed skin and carrying the faint scent of dew and earth.

“Should I go out?” you murmured to yourself. It was late—no, it was early—and the world outside was likely asleep. It might be safe.

Pulling on a hoodie and sweatpants, you crept quietly through the house. Every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet made your pulse spike, but you pressed on, determined. When you reached the door, you hesitated, your hand resting on the doorknob.

Flashes of the past flooded your mind—the crowd of paparazzi outside your apartment, shouting your name, their cameras clicking incessantly, their relentless pursuit. You clenched your eyes shut and took a deep breath.

“It’s different here,” you whispered, willing yourself to believe it. Slowly, you pushed the door open and stepped outside.

The cool grass greeted your bare feet as you stepped off the porch, the gentle night breeze brushing against your face. There was no one. No voices. No flashing lights. Just silence and the soft rustling of leaves in the dark.

You exhaled deeply, relief washing over you like a wave. One tentative step after another, you left the house, the distance growing between you and your sanctuary.

You wandered toward the park, the faint glow of streetlights guiding your way. The world felt peaceful, and for the first time in months, so did you—until the faint hum of an engine broke the stillness.

You glanced over your shoulder, your pulse quickening. A car was following you, its headlights low but its presence unmistakable. Then you saw it—a glint of metal, the unmistakable outline of a camera lens.

Shit. They’d found you.

Your heart pounded as the car crept closer. Picking up your pace, you started walking faster, then broke into a run.

“Y/N! Where have you been?” a voice called out from the car, loud and intrusive.

You didn’t answer, your breath quickening as you pushed yourself to move faster.

“Have you heard your ex-fiancé has rekindled things with his ex?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. What? Your mind reeled. You hadn’t even ended things officially, and he’d already moved on? That bastard. While you were here, broken and dealing with trauma, he was playing house?

“Is it true you gave money to your manager, knowing about his gambling addiction?”

You stopped dead in your tracks, glaring at the man hanging out of the car window. “No! I didn’t know! Leave me alone, you jerk!”

You started running again, your breath burning in your lungs, your legs aching. Desperation clawed at you as the car followed relentlessly. Then you saw him—a familiar figure jogging under the streetlights.

“It can’t be,” you whispered.

Without thinking, you sprinted toward him, your voice frantic. “Bucky! Help me!”

Bucky stopped mid-stride, his brows furrowed as he saw you running toward him. His routine early-morning jog had just turned unusual. His sharp eyes quickly took in the distress written all over your face. Before he could react, you leaped behind him, clutching the back of his hoodie and crouching slightly to shield yourself.

He stiffened, caught off guard. Then he saw it—a car slowing down, its passenger wielding a camera that kept flashing incessantly. The bright lights blinded him momentarily, and irritation sparked in his chest.

“Hey!” Bucky growled, marching toward the car. The camera flashes continued, and without hesitation, he snatched the camera from the paparazzo’s hands and smashed it against the pavement.

The paparazzo’s jaw dropped in shock. “My camera!” he yelled, scrambling to pick up the broken pieces.

But he wasn’t done. Pulling out his phone, the man began recording. “You’re a dead man! Who the fuck are you? Her boyfriend? Bodyguard?”

Bucky, his irritation mounting, opened his mouth to correct him, but before he could, you blurted out, “He’s my boyfriend.”

Bucky froze, glancing over his shoulder at you. Your grip on his hoodie tightened as you peeked around him, glaring at the paparazzo.

The man in the car stared at the two of you, his phone still recording. “This is going to be front-page news.”

Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What the hell did you just drag me into?” he muttered under his breath.

Exciting News!

I’m thrilled to announce the release of my new book, Dad, I Can’t Let You Go—a heartfelt collection of short poems about loss, love, and the journey of missing someone deeply. This book is dedicated to my father and to anyone who has experienced the pain of losing a loved one.

Available now on E-Kindle Amazon!

Dad, I Can't Let You Go! <<< Here's the link.

Thank you for your support, and I hope these poems resonate with you.

Join the taglist 💖💖💖

@thezombieprostitute

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@dexter99

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@barnesxstan

@jeremyrennermakesmesmile

@mrs-maximoff-kenner

@lostinspace33

@read-just-cant

@hzdhrtss

@globetrotter28

[navybrat817]

Love and Loyalty AU Masterlist

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader

AU Summary: A mobster falls for you, a single mom, after your daughter bumps into him one day. He knows Sweet Pea is your whole world, but maybe you'll let him into your heart and family, too.

AU Warnings: Parenthood, daughter nicknamed Sweet Pea, fluff, slight angst, eventual smut, more warnings to be added.

A/N: I hope you lovelies enjoy this AU! Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

One-Shots, Ficlets, and Headcanons

🫛 - Moving in Slow Motion

🫛 - Heart and Home

🫛 - (Im)Patiently Waiting

🫛 - Season of Giving

Asks and Nonsense Ramblings

How this AU formed

Sweet pea for Sweet Pea

Bucky wearing a tiara

Yelena adores Sweet Pea

Trick or Treating

Aunty Yeley and a guinea pig

Adoption - 1, 2

Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

[tragedynoir]

— gift exchange: CAFE VERSES + [ link ]

∗ for @georgerusseils as part of @rphserver's 2024 gift exchange.

a free matching dark academia PSD template and five-page google doc template inspired by dog-eared books, clandestine letters, and coffee stained parchment. use the PSD template on your character's intro post, and link to the matching doc for a cohesive look, or use either one of them separately! the PSD banner also comes with a transparent background version that works in discord; see under the read more for discord previews. font used is special elite.

feel free to edit as you please, but please do not remove the credit, resell, redistribute or claim as yours whether wholesale, in part, or modified. this extends to the PSD! if using the PSD template as a standalone, credit is not required but appreciated.

I hope you enjoy this template, thank you for your reblogs! ♡

Discord previews:

[hxhbigbang25]

HxHBB is turning 10... Let's get into what a Big Bang is!

A Big Bang is a collaborative event between writers and artists where lots of new content for a particular series, theme, or ship is dropped all at once. BANG!!

Writers complete a longer story and artists will create at least one full work of art based on the fic they choose/are assigned. The goal is to upload new, complete works that will inspire and add to the fandom!

Our HxHBB will result in an influx of new works for the fandom to enjoy and be inspired by and hopefully will inspire continued collaboration between writers and artists as well as participation in other, smaller fandom events (such as the Yorknew Auction and Greed Island Server events!)

How do signups work?

Signups will open Friday, January 10, at 12 AM EST! All roles will be on the same form, so Writers, Artists, and Betas will all be able to begin signing up on the same day.

There is no skill requirement and you will not be asked to submit a portfolio, we welcome anyone to participate in this event!

How do I get into the server?

Once we have received your application, you will be sent an invitation to join our Discord server via DMs. All main communications will be conducted through Discord, so please have or be willing to create a Discord account for the duration of this event! Additionally, please ensure your Discord DMs are open, otherwise Shal won't be able to send you the invite!

As in previous years, the only pause between applying and joining the server would be in the event that we have a wildly uneven writer:artist ratio. If that's the case, writers will be placed on a waitlist and invited to the server as more artists join the event.

The server is a great place to meet like-minded creatives and share in the fun of HxHBB, even if you choose not to be super active in it. However it will be the only place we share important links and information, so be sure to pop in every now and again so you don't miss anything.

Roles

Writer

Writers are tasked with coming up with a new, unpublished story idea that will be between 5-50k words. While there is no theme or prompt to limit you, please be aware that NSFW or explicit content is not allowed! Once writers have their idea, they'll submit a summary with title, ratings, and tags included to inform artists for their selections. This is a completely blind event, so make it good!

Artist

Artists are tasked with creating at least one piece of art based on a scene or theme from their selected story. Once they have picked their blind match, they will receive the completed story from which they will choose to draw whatever they like. We are looking for at least one fully lined and colored illustration, but comics, physical crafts, or other media created for their assigned story are welcome!

Beta

Betas are tasked with reading over the first chapter or 5,000 words (whichever comes first) of their assigned story and providing feedback on spelling, grammar, and pacing. Stories that are in need of a beta will be up for grabs in the server. You can absolutely read more than the requirement if you choose, but we are only asking for the first 5,000 words.

Pinch Hitter

Pinch Hitters are the most valuable role we have in this event, they are in charge of swooping in to save the day in the event of an artist drop! They will be given extra time to complete their pieces as a thank you for stepping up to the plate.

Reveal Days

As in the past, our reveal days will be July 1 and July 8. The first reveal date will be for folks who do not need extensions, the second will be for folks who do and pinch hitters.

Please share your works to whatever social media or hosting site you prefer—AO3, ff.net, Twitter, etc.—and share a link here on Tumblr. This is the only account for HxHBB so be sure to tag it and use #hxhbb25 so we can reblog it!

Important Links

We realize this is a lot of information! All of this and more is included in our Guidebook, which is the most comprehensive compilation of all that is HxHBB information.

For quick reference, sweet countdowns, and other helpful links, check out our Carrd too!

As always, you can also send us an ask to this account or, once the server is up, we will have a dedicated ask-a-mod channel.

We can't wait to see where this year takes us! See you soon and Happy Hunting.

[builtintripping]

Hey you Spooky Enjoyer!! Yeah, you!! 🫵

Do you need a place to gather Spooky Month references easily? From model sheets to background places to screenshots of your blorbos??

Well fear not, cause the Spooky Month Library Server is NOW OPEN!!! 🎆

But what exactly will you find here, you ask? Simple~

This library takes advantage of Discord's categories, channels, and thread features to organize specific "shelves" for the characters, background places, and the rich amount of content available outside the actual episodes!!

However, many of the threads are still a stub. Why?

I'm just one busy student who can't complete this library full-time all by myself. I've been setting up this server up for eight months and it's not even halfway finished 🥲

So if you have resources that you can offer (esp character screenshots), you can be granted the role to contribute and help fellow fans benefit from this server better! Time to make great use of your normalcy and take advantage of your stash of every single frame and doodles of your blorbos cause we fellow simps enjoyers and the fandom are gonna need it and appreciate your love for these sillies 🫶

Thanks for reading! Please reblog this post to help spread the word~ I'll see you from the other side!! 👋

[saiyanprincessswanie]

SaiyanPrincessSwanie Reading List Week 231 & 232

A/N: Happy New Year! Here is the first reading list of 2025.

Thank you again to those who recommended fanfics or tagged me. 💜 This week had me reading 25 fics. Absolutely amazing fanfics here. This has been so much fun for me and I hope you enjoy my reading lists.

As always these will be listed in no particular order. None of these stories are mine. I’m just signal-boosting them. The author is listed next to the title. My goal is to signal boost writers and spread positivity in the community. 💜💜

Click HERE to see what I will or won’t read. This is very important.

Click HERE for past reading lists.

For my Masterlist click HERE.

Please make sure you’re reading the warnings on every story. They range from dark to fluff. Do Not Read if you are under 18 years old. These stories are meant for adults only. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.

Header by @fictional-affairs

Page-break by @whimsicalrogers

If you can, please reblog these lists so they can reach more people on Tumblr.

I love you 3000 💜 Missy

Where do we go from here - (Ari x Reader) - @saiyanprincessswanie

We're Gonna Burn (Part 3) - (Bucky x Reader) - @tuiccim

Lumberjack Tales - The Hairy Bear (3) - (Ari x Reader) - @holylulusworld

A Little Comfort - (Bucky x Reader) - @tuiccim

The Imperfect Couple - 10 - (Bucky x Reader) - @deliciousangelfestival

The Imperfect Couple - 11 - (Bucky x Reader) - @deliciousangelfestival

Take a Chance of Me - (Skinny!Steve Rogers) - @caplanbuckybarnes

Mortifying Monday Thought! - (Steve x Reader) - @mercurial-chuckles

Wibbly-Wobbly Wednesday Thought - (Bucky x Reader x Steve) - @mercurial-chuckles

Found - (Brock x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

The first time he saw her - (Brock x OFC) - @nekoannie-chan

Lost In You - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Acting Out - (Ari x Reader) - @labella420

Hold You Tight: Part 12 - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Hold You Tight: Part 13 - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

let's not - (Mickey Henry x Reader) - @nickfowlerrr

Smutty Shorts-Thanksgiving Edition - (Ransom x Kitten) - @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Smutty Shorts-Thanksgiving Edition - (Curtis x Honey) - @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

It's Cold Outside - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Mercy 4 - (Multiple Characters x Reader) - @stargazingfangirl18

Home Sweet Home - Chp 9 - (Brock/ OFC) - @talia-rumlow

Morning Wood - (Steve x Reader) - @angrythingstarlight

Perfect Christmas Tree - (Bucky x Reader) - @buck-star

When Lloyd Gets Sick - @thezombieprostitute

HIS FIORE - PART I - (Steve x Reader) - @mercurial-chuckles

[suprababka]

hii first off, I really love your works!! I'm not big on textfics/chatfics generally but I really enjoy yours so much. I'm still reading through all of them but I wanted to drop an idea if it might pique your interest:

opm men's reaction to finding out you read fanfiction of them OR their reaction to finding out you write fanfiction for them

I think that would be really meta and I love stuff like that. If this is up your alley, I would be very happy if you wrote it. If not, that's okay, and I just wanted to let you know that I really like your work and can't wait to read more from you ♡

- 🍥

Hiii!👋 Aww, thank you!!! It means a lot that you enjoy my smaus even if you're not a big fan of them!😊🥰 And thank you for the request! I agree with you, that really would be meta. So I hope you won't be be disappointed😚 If something is not right, please let me know, and I'll fix it. Have fun!💕

Their reaction to you writing/reading fanfiction about them

T/W: a bit of mature themes (in Garou's, Amai Mask's and Flashy Flash's parts)

A/N: Happy 2025 year and Happy Holidays!🎄🎊💫

I wish you guys that this year will be 2025 times more colorful and eventful (in a good way) than the previous one! The 2024 year was filled with many important events, and one of them was starting this blog and meeting all of you. I couldn't imagine – heck, I still can't believe – that we made our comfort community😊 I love you all a lot, and I'm grateful for your support! You bring sense to what I'm doing. Let us have more OPM smaus and headcanons this year!💝

Thanks for all the likes, comments, reblogs and following me! I really appreciate your feedback and support, guys!🥰🫶

You can check my masterlist too see more of my other works.

Prepare for possible OOC!

(Sorry if there are any mistakes!)

And, most importantly, enjoy!!!

Saitama & Genos & Speed-o'-Sound Sonic

Garou & Metal Bat & Amai Mask

Flashy Flash & Zombieman & King

[freesia-writes]

Behind the Scenes of a Writer's Mind

I noticed something tonight that I thought might be helpful to share. You [hopefully] often hear fanfic writers urging interaction and support. It may seem selfish or prideful at first glance, but there's a lot more to it. Have a seat. 😉

The best metaphor I've heard is someone who loves cooking for others. Yes, they do it because they like it, but there's a deep gratification in sharing that work and talent with others and getting to hear how much it was loved and enjoyed. Same with writing.

I asked my favorite author @dystopicjumpsuit about her works -- which had the most emotional impact, which was the tastiest smut, which is her best piece, etc -- and was delighted to hear her answers because there were elements that I hadn't known or noticed, and it made me so excited to read them again (and a few for the first time, haha). It gave a new appreciation, a neat back story, and a richer experience to the fics. (READ THE ASK/ANSWER HERE)

She turned the ask back on me, and while I hadn't expected that, I was surprised at the process as I tried to answer. I had taken a good half a year off from writing after finishing the Hunter longfic. I had poured my heart and soul into it, and when it was done posting, it was kinda... empty. Life also was fairly crazy, so this side of me kinda went away for a while. I still wanted to write. I missed being here. But there was just no inspiration or motivation, and you can't force that.

But something neat happened when DJ gave me the chance to consider my own work. I reread some oldies. I smiled at things I'd forgotten about. The questions forced me to look at the good parts, my favorite parts, the best parts that I'm most proud of.

As a writer, it's easy to forget that. You get used to writing, you get used to your style and approach and voice, and sometimes it just gets to a point of "why bother"? ESPECIALLY if there's no feedback from readers. But it was awesome to be reminded of how my writing brings me joy, and that it's a particular area of gifting but also something that's honed and developed and refined over the years.

Considering the beautiful elements of what I've been able to create breathed fresh life into me. It brought confidence where there had been indifference. It reminded me of the fun of writing and the unpredictable nature of how it all goes down. It rekindled some of that joy of bringing delight to others with my time and effort. It rejuvenated the creative part of me that loves the process as well as the product.

So WRITERS -- if you're in a pit, perhaps read some of your own stuff. Enjoy it. Read works by other authors you love and ask them about it -- it'll likely remind you of some experiences of your own. But also, if the motivation isn't there, don't sweat it. Enjoy what you can and, if the fickle mistress of inspiration returns, bang that thang til fics fall out. (I'll see myself out, thank you.)

And READERS -- you enjoy what we create, yeah? Do you know that you'd likely enjoy it wayyy more if you had a lil behind-the-scenes knowledge? It truly enriches the experience all around, AND it's so encouraging to authors to be able to share not only the finished product but some of the joy of the process. So don't be afraid -- drop some asks, leave questions in reblogs, engage!!

If you've read this far (without skipping, you weasels), please consider this a free ticket for a fic request. ;) Drop one in my inbox and we shall see if the gods smile upon my mushy brain and clumsy fingers. But also, thank you for reading, and I hope that both writers and readers are encouraged to enjoy this space more fully!

FREESIA OUT 😘

[miniscule-meow]

Isabell and the Lads (15)

Masterpost Wordcount: ~2.5k First Part | Last Part | Next Part

The quiet morning slipped pleasantly into the afternoon. Zeke brought her pancakes for breakfast, along with water for a hot bath, assuring her that ‘the internet’ said she was allowed to get her stitches wet now.

She’d never had access to that much water, never mind hot water. Going to collect water is enough of a hassle, but having to heat it up too? It’s almost never worth it, especially not for something like a bath. Hygiene is important, absolutely. Staying clean is an important part of staying healthy. But she achieved that through practical means, like with dips in cold puddles after a storm, or with a collection of lukewarm water from a leaking pipe.

Zeke wasn’t stingy when he placed a full bowl of warm water on her shelf, like it was nothing to him.

Her own mind tussled with itself for a moment, warning her that she can’t get used to something like this. Food being brought to her, warm baths being made for her. It feels like a luxury, but she needs to consider the cost. If she stayed like this, she would be no better than a pet. She could survive cold showers if that meant that she had her freedom.

Of course, her worries melt when she submerges herself in the pleasant water. Feeling weightless, the tension unwinds from her shoulders, a sigh escapes her lips. This might be the happiest she’s been in weeks. A human gave her this. It’s still so baffling to her, but she can’t make herself worry about it when everything feels so good right now.

After taking the time to just enjoy the water, she gets to work scrubbing herself clean. She takes extra care around her wounded leg.

Now she’s full, she’s clean, with a fresh bandage on her leg, and she’s just finished combing out her hair.

She feels like a new borrower.

Now comes the matter of getting dressed. Her old clothes are obviously ruined. She washes what she can save, but for the most part her outfit is shredded and stained with blood. So, she turns her attention to the pile of doll clothes Zeke placed in her room. He had taken the Velcro off of them, and upon her stuttered request, he gave her a needle and thread so that she could make her own modifications to the garments.

She sorts through the pile. There are a couple large t-shirts that would be practical enough to wear, but aside from that her options are mostly limited to dresses. She holds one up. It’s…. pretty. And entirely impractical. The powder blue fabric would blend in with nothing. The layers of the skirt only go to her knees, but she can imagine the flowing ruffles getting snagged on everything.

She puts it on anyway.

The halter neckline ties around the back of her neck, then the dress ties together at her low back. This leaves her back entirely exposed. Leaning against her crutch, she turns in the mirror, and frowns. Something like this wasn't made for something like her. Isabell can see the dark edges of bruises blooming across her ribs all across her right side. Over her shoulder there’s an old scar from a run it with a rat. Then of course, there’s the bulky bandage holding her leg together. She’s got more bumps and scrapes than anyone would know what to do with. With her rotten luck, it’s a miracle that she’s still alive.

Despite feeling as though the beauty of the dress is lost on her, she leaves it on. At least for now. It’s soft. And besides, when else would she have an opportunity to wear something so frivolous?

She spends some time sewing, resolving the undergarment situation, and making some shorts to wear under the dress.

Eventually, footsteps approach once more. Her heart stutters, and her wide eyes jump to the curtain. She holds her breath, waiting. But the human doesn’t come over to the shelf at all. She hears the squeak of a chair, then the rhythmic hum of a sewing machine. Zeke. She’s sure that before this month is done, she’ll be able to tell the humans apart by their footsteps alone.

They exist in this space for a while, near each other, yet separate. Zeke sits at his desk, sewing, and Isabell stays on her shelf, doing the same. Honestly, it’s kind of nice. It makes everything seem a little less lonely. There is no pressure to really socialize. There's no having to confront the reality of their vast size difference. It's just nice. After a while, he breaks the comfortable silence between them.

“Hey Isabell,” his chair shifts, but he doesn’t approach just yet. “I can grab that stuff out of your room, if you’re ready.”

“Alright,” she calls out to him, setting aside her project.

He finally comes over, his shadow darkening the curtained wall before his fingers reach in, pulling up the fabric dividing her from the rest of the room. Despite his size, he doesn’t feel imposing. She doesn’t know how he’s managing that. It could just be that she’s more relaxed now. It could be how purposeful his movements are. It could be that she trusts him. Her, trusting a human? Impossible. But she does. At least, she trusts him enough to know that he’s not just going to grab her. It's not much, but it's a start.

When he does reach in, his movements are slow and intentional. She doesn’t even flinch as he clears away the napkin from her breakfast, and the bowl she took a bath in. Once he’s cleared the stuff away, he glances over to find her sitting comfortably on her bed. Her dark hair is down, and mostly dried now. It’s curling in gentle waves over one shoulder. He does a double take when he sees her, and her pulse quickens now that she’s the sole focus of his attention. She hugs her arms to herself, suddenly aware of how bare they are.

“You look nice,” he breathes quietly. Her cheeks flush, his words catching her off guard.

“T-thank you. I, I’m uh, It’s good that I don’t need to go out borrowing like this. I- this isn’t exactly subtle,” she attempts a smile, fluffing out the fabric of her skirt. “I don’t think I’d blend in with anything wearing this.”

“Probably not,” his lips pull into a humored smirk, the look sends a warm flutter through her stomach. “Are you feeling better?” he asks.

“I, yeah. I feel a lot better.” Honestly, she feels better than she has in months, minus the pain in her leg. But even that has numbed to a bearable thrum now that she’s actually been staying off of it.

“That’s good,” his nods, “I’m going to take a break here in a little bit, for lunch. I can just leave you be and bring it to you when its ready, unless you need anything?”

“I-I’m alright. Thanks.”

He nods, pulling his gaze away from her. He reaches to pull down the curtain wall once more. He’s entirely content to just… leave her alone. It’s such a little thing, but it means a lot to her. All morning, he’s been willing to let her do her own thing. He hasn’t wanted to toy with her, or observe her, or have her entertain him. He’s let her simply exist. He's really unlike any other human she's ever had the misfortune of meeting. She thinks back to the meager trust she's built with him, and before she can overthink it, she speaks up.

“Actually, Zeke?” Her words cause him to pause. “Can, um, I know you’re probably busy, but could I- um, if you don’t mind, a-and I could entertain myself I just… I could be… out there. We could hang out? I mean- I mean I’d let you work, I could just read or something but. O-or I could stay in here, I just. Either way,” she stammers through this, butchering the request entirely. Zeke looks at her for a moment, mentally deciphering what it was that she was asking of him.

“Oh. Yeah, of course you can come out here,” He reaches back in, slowly resting his hand down in front of her. "I'd be happy for the company," he adds gently.

She places herself in the center of his palm, settling in, letting him carry her over to his desk. This whole 'trusting a human' thing is tentative and new for her, but it’s enough that she’s comfortable letting him hold her, at least for such a short trip. She knows he won’t grab her; she knows that he’s careful. This should be fine.

It should be. But once he stands, he doesn’t get further than one step before halting suddenly enough to jostle her. She twists to look at him as he sucks in a sharp breath. His stoic features reveal very little, but something is wrong. Instead of continuing on to his desk, he pulls her up closer to his face, turning his hand to see her back again.

Oh, right.

She didn’t consider that her gnarly bruise would be fully on display for him in this dress. The open back showcases the purples and blues smattered across her entire side, letting him see just enough to know that it’s worse moving under the fabric. Her heart pounds against her chest, her shoulders tense. Isabell twists to look at him again, but he’s observing her so closely, all she’s met with is his furrowed brow, and his giant green eyes filling her entire field of vision.

“Let me see,” he says firmly, twisting his wrist again to position her where he wants her.

Right where he wants her. And what could she possibly do to get in the way of what he wants? He's the human after all. She's the foolish little borrower that thew herself directly into his hands.

Her breathing quickens, growing shallow in her chest. The intensity of his gaze against her exposed back skyrockets her pulse and sends cold sparks down her spine. She feels so bare, so vulnerable, so tiny.

“Is that from me?” He asks, his voice low, dangerous. Every alarm in her head is going off at once.

“It-I- It’s n-no. No,” she barely chokes the words out. “It’s- It- It’s from- um- It’s- uh- from before.” She squeezes her eyes shut, bunching two fistfuls of her skirt in her hands. She tries to remain calm enough to form coherent sentences, but she can’t seem to catch her breath.

“Isabell,” he sounds dead serious.

“Can- can you- can you put me down?” The words spill out of her, her whole body is trembling now. It’s hard for her to breathe, harder for her to focus on anything more than the panic igniting through her veins.

Zeke hesitates, and for one terrible moment she’s certain that he’ll say no. The sprouting blooms of trust have withered inside of her. This was a horrible mistake. She put herself right in this situation, and now she's going to be surprised that this was the outcome? She mentally scolds herself. Of course this would happen. He's a human, she's a borrower. They mix like oil and water. She can only expect that things will just get worse from here.

“Put-put me down,” she insists, growing frantic. She twists to face him again, “Zeke? Please?”

“Okay," he blinks, pulling her away from his face. "Okay, I’m sorry,” He moves her to his desk. As soon as his hand touches down, she scrambles from his palm, taking her crutch with her. Not wanting to keep her back the the human any longer. She whirls around quickly, her skirt twirling around her. Zeke stands over her, retracting his hand slowly. His eyes are glued to her with an intensity that is doing nothing to calm her sporadic heart rate. Is he afraid she'll run? How much running could she possibly do with the state her leg is in. No, she's trapped and he knows it.

Zeke sits in his chair and leans down slowly, putting his massive form on her level. Or at least, making an attempt to do so. His eyes flick across her form, taking her in, assessing the damage.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “Your side is… that’s pretty bad, huh?”

“It’s not from you,” she asserts firmly, shaking her head. She focuses on slowing her breathing down before telling Zeke about her failed borrowing mission, and the misfortune she faced even before slicing through her leg and winding up stuck with them. “The guy, like, kicked me across his entire living room,” she finishes. Zeke just looks at her. The way he's chewing his lip piercing and fidgeting with his hands tells her that he is uncomfortable, even though he has yet to say anything. “I think that he thought I was a mouse,” she offers.

“That… doesn’t make any of that any better,” he says numbly.

She doesn’t have a response for that.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were hurt?” He asks.

She doesn’t have a response for that either. She opens her mouth, but no real sound comes out. She shrugs, resisting the urge to just curl in on herself.

“If I had known I… I could have been more careful. I mean…” he shakes his head. “Did I hurt you last night?” He asks, leaning in a bit closer to her.

She has an answer for this one, but she would really rather not give it to him. Putting everything in perspective, he didn’t really hurt her. But then, she remembers the panic she felt when he grabbed her, and how she thought she could fight her way out against someone whose hand is larger than her whole body. The metallic taste of blood in her mouth. The vertigo of being tumbled to his other hand. His thumb pressing firmly into her tender ribs. The air being briefly forced from her lungs as she was shoved against his fingers. She shudders at the memory. Zeke takes her haunted silence as her answer.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes again looking away from her.

“It’s… I don’t blame you. If anything, I deserved it—” Zeke doesn’t interrupt her, but from the intensity of his gaze snapping back to her, she knows that she’s said the wrong thing. “I-I just, I mean, I… I bit you.”

“So?” He practically growls the word, “That doesn’t mean I just get to retaliate however I want to. I could have handled that whole situation differently, then you wouldn’t have felt like you needed to defend yourself. I… You can’t seriously believe that you deserved to get hurt.”

“I bit you; you squeezed me. It’s just… It’s a-a natural turn of events. It makes sense. Cause and effect,” she grumbles. “It wouldn’t have been a big deal if my ribs weren’t already messed up.”

“Are you sure it’s just a bruise? Nothing is broken?”

“I don’t think you can do anything for a broken rib. You’re just supposed to deal with it and… avoid breaking anything in the first place,” Zeke responds with a dissatisfied hum.

“You must think we’re monsters,” he sighs after a moment, not looking at her now.

“No,” she says with heavy consideration. “Not you. Not Marcus.”

[witchqueen]

Does anyone have any tips to help stop yourself from comparing your artwork to others, or equating your value as an artist with likes and reblogs?

I've struggled with this for a while and it's getting old, I don't know how to just shrug it off. Any genuine advice would be nice

[lunarharp]

figured i'd do this again..bit early i guess..

[erabu-san]

Hmm I apologize again for the rant !

It is not the first time I am doing it. I might forgot to put "please don't tag it as ship" under my drawing of tighnari cyno. Please, do not !

I love them as best friend, I love them as brother/found family, I don't mind the queerplatonic relationship at all

But their romantic side make me pretty uncomfortable. No hate ! It is my own taste.

Shippers are always welcomed and I am so glad you like my content 💕 but all my art concerning them (unless I tag the ship) are purely platonic. I just ask for some respect of my taste and not reblog my art with the ship tag.

I don't want to block, because I am genuinely glad you enjoy my work and as a young artist, it means a lot for me. Thank you so much 🙇 !! But as a human, I can't deny how uneasy it makes me feel.

Thank you for understanding !

[writingforfun0714]

Sorry this took a while but here’s the next chapter of my Arcane female reader-insert Sisters of Mine. Thanks for being patient.

Warnings: POV changes, long (sorry I couldn’t trim it more than I already have), follows ep5 of Arcane

Recommended reading beforehand:

Sisters of Mine *all chapters*

Arcane Sisters of Mine

Chapter 6

Word count: 10, 101

3rd POV

“Who the hell are you?” Vi asks the rookie Enforcer, Caitlyn Kiramman. Cait looks at the young reddish pink-haired woman pacing her cell.

“I took a look at your file. There’s no record of you or your crimes. What are you here for?” Cait asks in response.

“My sunny personality,” Vi replies sarcastically.

“You attacked an inmate. Why?” Cait asks.

“Why not?” Vi asks back, walking in the shadows of her cell.

“He was a witness in an ongoing investigation,” Cait responds.

“Hmm, bummer,” Vi replies nonchalantly, not caring in the slightest.

“This was a waste of time,” Cait sighs and turns to walk away.

“Couldn’t have put it better,” Vi says as Cait starts walking away.

“Hey, give Silco a kiss on that winning eye of his, will you?” Vi taunts. Cait glances back at the cell at the name and sighs quietly before walking back over.

“Silco? The industrialist?” Cait confirms.

“Ok, this is getting old. Can you just send in whoever’s gonna kick the shit out of me, so I can get on with my night?” Vi asks. Cait looks at the shadowy figure. She cannot pretend she doesn’t know the brutality of Stillwater, but to hear someone subject themselves to such pain…

Cait glances down at the red warning line a couple feet away from the cell. Most enforcers know the rule and new guards learn fast. Cait. Cait weighs her options. Despite Vi’s demeanor, she mentioned a name, a person of interest. Someone only Cait had suspicions for because Sheriff Marcus wouldn’t listen to her.

Cait remembers a time when she was younger. After Jayce’s apartment explosion, she had begged her parents to explore any option she could for personal defense. Her mother disliked the idea of her daughter fighting in a boxing ring or doing martial arts, but Cait managed to convinced her father to try archery. She liked it but Cait preferred shooting ranges. Her mother was skeptical but once Cait showed a talent for it, her mother allowed her to continue.

Cait steps over the line, holding the file in her hands.

“Does this mean anything to you?” Cait asks, showing Vi the picture the rookie enforcer took earlier.

Vi stops pacing and glances towards the cell grates. She looks through the bars and her ice blue eyes widen when she sees a painted symbol of a monkey head. Just like-

Vi slams the cell bars and Cait flinches slightly.

“Where did you get this?” Vi asks.

“My question first. He worked for Silco?” Cait asks.

“Uh, they all do. How can anyone not know that? Where did you find this?” Vi insists, gripping the bars tightly.

“There was an attack. This is evidence,” Cait explains. I need proof if I’m to believe what you’re saying about Silco,” Cait says and Vi scoffs.

“I could get it for you. Just not from in here,” Vi offers. Cait snickers.

“In what mad world would I trust someone like you?” Cait asks.

“Someone like me? You Enforcers are all the same. Just asshole criminals in fancy uniforms,” Vi says, “You know what? Find Silco yourself.”

“I will, thank you,” Cait decides and walks off again.

“Hmm..Undercity’s gonna eat you alive.” Vi warns with a hint of smugness. Cait stops in her tracks and breathes deeply, knowing Vi is right. She’d never even stepped foot into the poorer areas of Piltover until she became an Enforcer, much less the Undercity. She keeps walking and once she’s alone, she pulls out a prisoner release form. She puts it on the wall and signs her name under ‘parole officer’. Under ‘Authorization’, she freezes and bites her lip. She lets the pen hover for a moment before pushing the pen down on the paper. She quickly signs Jayce’s name identically to how the Councilor would do it before folding the paper up and hurrying back to the warden’s desk.

Cait puts the release form on the desk.

“I’ve got orders from Councilor Talis, concerning Inmate 516,” Cait says.

“Not cooperative, huh? You, uh, you want us to have a chat with her?” The warden asks, slamming his metal staff onto the ground. Cait’s eyes widen.

“No-“ She gasps quietly.

“Oh.”

“It’s for her release,” Cait explains since the warden clearly hadn’t even looked at the form she put down on his desk.

“Huh. Since when’s he a Councilor?” The warden asks curiously.

“Since..today,” Cait says, knowing how that sounds out loud. The warden scoffs at her and reads the release form.

“How many ‘chats’ have you had with her?” Cait asks.

“You know, I never even thought to count,” he answers nonchalantly. Cait’s eyes widen at the unabashed way he talks about treating an inmate. It must’ve been a lot, Cait thinks.

Once the warden reluctantly accepts the release, Caitlyn walks back to Vi’s cell and unlocks it. Vi feels a twinge of pain in her right shoulder and rolls the joint, trying to alleviate the pain. She’s had that pain since that awful night at the cannery. When the explosion toppled the giant metal door on her. The sound of gears clicking gets Vi’s attention and the gate makes a slight banging sound before clanking open, a metallic sound echoing in the silence.

Vi looks over and see’s her cell is open. Cait’s giving her an unreadable, almost analyzing look before she sighs and walks back to return the key. Vi doesn’t take her eyes off the rookie Enforcer.

While Caitlyn is getting Vi released from Stillwater, Marcus is leading the funeral service for the Enforcers Jinx killed while stealing the hexgem.

“These brave Enforcers sacrificed their lives to defend the values of our great city. To some, they are mothers, fathers, sons…daughters,” he says, looking at his own daughter, Ren, who is holding a bouquet of white flowers.

“But to all, they are heroes,” Marcus finishes and the other Enforcers gathered hold their rifles and aim up, firing off a shot, scaring off the crows around the graveyard. Everyone puts a handful of dirt into the coffin holes, including the new Sheriff. Another shot rings out.

When the service is over, Ren tugs on her father’s sleeve.

“Are we leaving too?” She asks.

“In a moment,” he assures her before reaching his hand out. The redheaded girl grabs her father’s hand and he walks through the graveyard until he gets to a large marble statue covered in plant growth on the sides. He stops short of the statue, still holding Ren’s hand. She looks at the stone figure. A woman with short hair and despite the formal look, her eyes are kind. Ren notices that she’s wearing the same badge her father now wears.

“Who was this, Daddy?” Ren asks curiously. Marcus, who hadn’t been able to look at the statue yet, squeezes his eyes a bit before taking a breath and looking at the statue of Grayson, his former boss and someone he is directly responsible for killing by going against her orders all those years ago.

“A good woman,” Marcus tells his daughter. And he meant it too, wishing the older woman was still here to help with the situation in the Undercity…with Silco. Marcus has regrets and one big one is aligning with the ‘industrialist’. The thought of Silco makes Marcus’s blood boil.

After taking his daughter home, Marcus heads down to the Undercity to meet with Silco. Storming into the Last Drop, ignoring Sevika’s glare from across the room, Marcus heads upstairs and opens Silco’s office door.

“Ah, Sheriff Marcus, what can I do for you?” Silco asks calmly, still filling out paperwork, not even looking up to meet the Sheriff.

“We need to talk,” Marcus insists.

Silco’s POV

“We need to talk,” Marcus insists. I motion for him to sit before I slide back in my chair, grab a cigar, and get up to sit on the couch opposite him.

“You said you could control her. I lost six officers! Six!” Marcus snaps, standing up but my guards force him back down.

“She pushed it too far this time. The Council’s up in arms. I can’t make this go away for you unless you give me something to work with,” Marcus says as I grab the cigar cutter.

“Arresting her would be doing you a favor,” Marcus says. I use the cigar cutter to cut the tip off my cigar, cutting off Marcus.

“I don’t need favors. I need you to do your job,” I say, lighting my cigar and taking a puff.

“The Firelights have been a thorn in both our sides. They ambushed my shipment at the Hexgates on the same day as the attack. It seems to me the Council has its culprit,” I explain.

“Oh that’s tidy for you. What if I’m not interested in playing along?” Marcus threatens.

“We’ve accomplished a lot together, Marcus. Sheriff,” I emphasize, pointing at the badge before taking another puff.

“And there is more yet to achieve,” I say and lean forward, “I hope you can remain a part of it.” Smirking I look to the guard on the left. He grabs a sack of gold coins off my desk and shoves it into Marcus’ chest, just like how I gave him his payment in the alley all those years ago.

“For their families. From an anonymous, concerned citizen,” I explain. Marcus stands up and storms out, his hand clutching the money tightly, slamming the door behind him. I lean back and take another puff. Despite scolding Jinx myself, I knew I would’ve had to deal with the new Sheriff sooner or later.

3rd POV

While Marcus heads back after his dealings with Silco, newly appointed Councilor Jayce Talis and his partner Viktor argue over Jayce’s newfound responsibilities. Viktor believing they should stick to their original plan of helping improve lives in the Undercity while Jayce argues he has new responsibilities to the Council now. The corrupted Sheriff interrupts the two scientists to try and dissuade Jayce as discretely as possible, though Jayce is steadfast in his resolve to root out the corruption, worrying Marcus. While the two talk of the stolen gemstone, Viktor feels his lungs spasm and he turns to cough away from the two. He feels a warm liquid spray out his nose and onto the railing he supports himself on. His hand comes to rub under his nose and he sees blood. His head hurts and his vision tunnels, spiraling until Jayce puts a hand on the smaller man’s bony shoulder.

“Viktor-You ok?” Jayce had asked but Viktor brushed him off with a simple response of a headache, which is technically true. Viktor quickly dismisses himself back to his lab.

Down in the Undercity, Ekko keeps a sharp eye on Y/N the whole time. Having to lay low thanks to Jinx and her stealing the gemstone topside, Ekko has made sure to follow through on his grounding. He remembered when the older boys, specifically Mylo, would still disobey if Vander disciplined them.

Ekko’s POV

I watch Y/N from up in the tree. She’s working on the mural while Kiyi, a young disabled woman with a missing leg is sitting near by, talking with the girl. I sigh.

“Little Man?” Scar asks, getting my attention.

“6 Enforcers were killed during Jinx’s attack,” he tells me.

“The Sheriff?” I ask and Scar shakes his head.

“Fine. One survived the bombing as well,” he says.

“Where is he? What’s he doing?” I ask.

“I’m not too sure. Last sighting was towards the docks…to Stillwater prison,” Scar shakes his head with a shrug but my eyes widen at the mention of the brutal prison. Vi.

“Find him and report back to me. I’ll check him out for myself,” I tell him and he nods.

“Sure thing boss,” he says and glances down at Y/N. It looks like Kiyi is comforting the kid. I sigh.

“Hey, you did the right thing,” Scar says, getting my attention. I blink and look at him. Being a father of a young infant himself, I know he understands the responsibility of raising someone.

“Grounding Y/N I mean,” he says when I don’t answer.

“Oh-y-yeah…I hope so,” I sigh, leaning on the railing on the wooden platform perched on a thick tree limb.

“Kids…they don’t understand that what we do..we do to protect them,” Scar explains. I nod and glance back down at the ground near the mural and see Kiyi managed to calm Y/N down and I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

3rd POV

Elsewhere in the Undercity, Jinx is in her workshop, looking over Jayce’s notes. She’s managed to make a generator that uses the gemstone to create power. Or…at least, that’s the plan. The manic teenager just finished it and is about to test it. She’s checking the notebook of research she stole to make sure.

“Boring…wow suuuper boring,” she says, laying down on one of the metal fan blades that lay above the mines. She flips the notebook pages and finds something interesting. She sits up and leans forward, focusing on the book.

“Here we go!” She says and looks at the metallic chamber.

“It’s all about these runes. They form this sort of math-y, magic-y gateway,” Jinx explains, showing the book page to the dolls of Mylo and Claggor, “To the realm of heebie-jeebies. And this…Turns it on,” she says, holding the perfectly spherical, glowing blue gemstone between her thumb and forefinger. She places the gemstone in and the device powers on. The wires glow blue.

“So..here goes,” Jinx says taking a breath and slowly turns the dial to the right, turning the power up. The homemade device whirrs and hums as the gemstone sparks. Jinx’s eyes widen when the spark turns to an explosion of blue in the blink of an eye, blasting the girl back. She yelps and groans tumbling a bit. The explosion rattles the dolls of Mylo and Claggor and the various items Jinx had nearby. Jinx’s eyes widen as she’s assaulted of memories from 6yrs ago. Claggor gets hit with one of the unstable blue hexcrystals in the head, instantly killing the boy. Blood splatters a bit just as Mylo gets pierced by a piece of pipe in the chest! The wild-haired boy slams into the wall, breathing hard, numb as he doesn’t even cry out in pain. He glances over at Claggor and his eyes widen when he sees his brother is dead. Mylo looks down in shock and sees a rusty metal pipe sticking out of his upper left chest. The boy reaches towards the pipe and when his fingers graze the pipe, searing pain explodes from the injury. A loud cracking sounds gets Mylo’s attention and he looks up just as the ceiling caves in on top of both of them, killing Mylo.

Jinx winces, shutting her eyes tightly as her generator sputters out, smoking. The blue light disappears and all that’s left are little blue flecks of light. Jinx sobs.

“No! No! It was a mistake! It was a mistake!” She cries as she scrambles to her feet and races to Silco’s office as fast as she can, leaving behind her stuffed rabbit toy Vi gave her that she calls “Mr. Bunny” and the flare as well. Electricity crackles in the air as the energy burst finally dies out.

Vi’s POV

I’m standing free for the first time in years. Well, not completely free. But the air is sweet and the sunshine feels almost hot to me. I look down and see the buildings near us and even the one I’m standing on descends so far down I can’t see the end. This is it. This is one of the passages to the Undercity from Topside. It’s close to how I took Powder and the boys during that botched robbery. I take a breath, hearing a train chugging in the distance. The train car pulls to a stop.

“I heard the bathysphere has a nice view,” that rookie Enforcer who freed me says, looking at the train car. An elderly person with a cane shuffles up the stairs to board.

“That could be a good way to get a lay of the land,” she tells me. I can’t help the instant ‘you idiot’ thought that races by but I have to remember that topsiders don’t know much aside from their privileged lives.

“Too risky,” I tell her, putting the hood of my shirt up. I jump over the ledge and move on the metal beam I landed on to get closer to a copper green roof. I jump and quickly stabilize myself on the slanted roof to jump over to another, then another! The movements, the action, the speed, it’s all coming back to me from my younger, teenage years. I catch the Rookie looking down at me from where I initially jumped from and see her shake her head slightly before deciding to follow me. There’s no way she can catch up.

Cait’s POV

“Too risky,” Vi, the former inmate responds to my rational suggestion of the bathysphere. I watch as she puts her hood up before jumping over the ledge! I gasp.

“What?!” I exclaim and hurry over. I watch and see the pink haired, muscular woman run down a metal beam, balancing perfectly despite the great height before jumping down onto an extremely slanted roof but doesn’t slip! I watch in awe as she leaps to another rooftop, then to another and another! Each jump she gets further and further away.

“Shit,” I shake my head and look down. I scoff slightly before sitting and sliding myself off the edge and look at the metal beam. It’s really narrow. I carefully slide my feet across, not daring to take actual steps because even doing this causes me to wobble slightly but I keep my arms out and look ahead.

3rd POV

Vi races down and despite the years confined in a cement and metal box, she remembers the movements needed parkour her way down into the Undercity. The pink-haired young woman leaps, pulling her knees in and her arms back as she flies by a painted mural of a woman with long wavy brown hair. She’s beautiful. Her flowing gown disappears right at her chest, making a ‘v’ shape. Vi feels the drop of gravity and flails a bit. She lands on the rooftop of another building and rolls to lessen the impact. Vi gets in between two close buildings and slides down, using a hand and foot on each wall.

Cait slides down the ladder and looks down. She barely sees Vi before the parolee disappears. Cait wobbles and clings to the ladder. Vi leaps over a short metal wall and slides down. Vi slows when she gets to a metal pipe that looks down on buildings crammed together, all bathed in a familiar green light. The Undercity. Vi pants as she looks around and finds a way down. She slides down a metal gutter and hits the ground. Once on stable ground, the young woman takes in the familiar but thick air of the Undercity before lowering her hood.

Nearby, an unsuspecting man with a red jacket whistles at Vi, getting her attention. He saunters up to her, his friend with him also approaching. Once he gets close to Vi, he crawls his fingers on her bare, toned shoulder. He flicks a piece of her dark pink hair. Vi smirks.

“Nice jacket,” she comments. The unfamiliar nobody makes a noise of confusion before Vi manages to knock him out with one punch. Blood splatters from his nose and mouth when he hits the ground. His friend looks at Vi and she quickly knocks out the friend as well before taking their clothes. Vi shrugs on the red jacket and quickly fold up the clothes for the Rookie so she won’t stand out more than she already does.

After taking a much longer time than anticipated, Cait slides down the side of a slanted wall and lands on the awning of the building beside it before nearly sliding and falling to the ground. She stumbles a bit, leaning against a building and pants hard when she hears a set of light footsteps near her. The Enforcer turns and sees it’s the old man from topside! It had taken her so long that he’d gotten here! Suddenly something soft hits Cait’s upper body, startling her a bit as she catches a pair of clothes.

“Welcome to the Lanes,” Vi greets, walking up to her.

“You almost got me killed,” Cait argues.

“One of my little sisters could do that when she was 7. All us fisherfolk can. Don’t you wanna blend in?” Vi asks, walking off. Cait hears a man groan and she turns to see an open garbage bin.

Cait’s POV

“Don’t you wanna blend in?” Vi asks me. I’m reminded of a shooting competition I was in when I just turned 16. I was running through a frosty wood, shooting targets, racing someone. Not just anyone though…it was Sheriff Grayson. It wasn’t just any competition either. It was the Enforcer’s test. A ‘competition’ to make sure all Enforcers are able to handle a firearm. I’d gotten to the last target. Grayson was matching me. We aimed. I had shut my eyes and took a breath and in that time, I heard a shift in the snow. I opened my eyes and fired. The bullet it the bullseye, flying through but I knew it wasn’t a true win. I looked over and saw Grayson aiming but putting her rifle down. She nods at me and I give return the gesture as good will. But I was upset.

I was so upset I accused her of bribery because I was so sure my parents had paid her to let me win. But she just gave me a small half-smile and explained to me that being an Enforcer means having the power to protect people.

“Which begs the question young Kiramman, what are you shooting for?” Sheriff Grayson’s voice echoes in my mind.

3rd POV

Back in Piltover, Viktor is able to control the Hexcore to an extent of turning it up, down, left and right. The runes on it glow blue. Jayce is standing in front of a board.

“You had a vision?” Jayce asks.

“What if we’ve been looking at it backwards? We’ve been trying to discover runes that invoke specific effects and then molding them to a useful function,” Viktor says as Sky, his assistant, walks over and hands Jayce a blueprint of the Hexcore.

“Tools, as you like to put it. But, but..if the legends are true, mages aren’t bound to single functions. It’s said the Arcane speaks through them,” Viktor explains as the Hexcore moves and rotates different pieces with Viktor keeping a watchful eye on it through lenses.

“I’m still not following,” Jayce tells his partner.

“They think. They adapt,” Viktor says.

“You think Hextech can…learn?” Jayce asks Viktor, approaching the Zaunite. Viktor turns his right handle and pushes in, locking the mechanism and the Hexcore suddenly emits a beam of light! The scent of electricity is in the air and zaps around Viktor. Jayce flinches away but turns back when it dies out quickly.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Jayce asks.

“Of course not,” Viktor answers as if it’s obvious, though he’s so absorbed in his work, he misses Jayce’s look of concern but he leaves for an opera he knows Mel will be at.

Speaking of concern, it’s the same look Cait gives Vi as she munches down slop that is considered food. Cait’s concern is mixed with disgust as Vi picks up a chunk of what appears to be fish covered in a vague, smelly orange sauce. Cait feels her stomach churn.

“Oh, Jericho, have I missed these,” Vi says, holding a fish chunk to the stall owner. He chuckles heartily as he chops up a fish. Vi notices the pair of clear blue eyes on her and offers the Enforcer some of her food. Cait looks at the colorful food and even if it hadn’t looked inedible, Vi’s hand wraps are covered in blood, dirt and sweat from new to finely aged from prison.

“No. Thank you,” Cait says.

“You’re missing out,” Vi says, eating the offered food herself.

“Are you going to question him?” Cait whispers semi-discretely by pulling on the hood of her stolen clothes. Vi glances at Jericho and the chef is unceremoniously scratching his rear.

“Definitely not above board,” Vi tells Cait.

“Silco. His connections? Isn’t that why we’re here?” Cait asks quietly but clearly frustrated.

“We’re here because I’m hungry. Do you know what prison food is like? No, of course you don’t,” Vi answers back cooly before finishing off the last fish chunk and licking her fingers.

“Unbelievable. I didn’t break you out of jail to eat…slop!” Cait hisses angrily, starting to pace anxiously, “I knew this was a terrible idea. You don’t actually know anything, do you?”

Vi finishes the bowl and wipes her mouth with her hand.

“Mmm, better than I remember,” Vi tells Jericho. The one-eyed chef chuckles and exchanges her empty bowl for a paper napkin. Vi lifts up the corner and sees the symbol for Margot’s. The two exchange a look before Vi walks off with Caitlyn following.

Ekko’s POV

I’ve heard the Enforcers are starting to get more aggressive. While making sure everyone’s been ok, I haven’t checked on Y/N for a while, so when Scar offers to take watch, I start walking around, looking for the little girl. I check our room first and don’t see her. Ok. Maybe the mural? I hurry to the adjacent platform and get a view of the beautiful painting. But no Y/N. Where is she? Who was with her earlier? Senna? No..no, it was Kiyi. I have to find Kiyi.

I find the young woman sitting with friends chatting when she catches my eye.

“Oh, hey Ekko,” she greets.

“Hey Kiyi, you seen Y/N?” He asks.

“I…thought she went home? She told me she was going home hours ago,” she says.

“She’s not in the storage house?” She asks me and I shake my head. Oh no. I race around and ask Scar if he’s seen her.

“You don’t think she left do you?” Scar asks.

“I think she’s as stubborn as Vi and can be as unpredictable as Jinx. Anything’s possible with her,” I say.

“Good point,” he admits, knowing how the young girl is. After searching the whole Sanctuary and even the areas surrounding us, I find no sign of the kid I consider to be my younger sister. I sigh.

“Dammit,” I say under my breath before starting a search party with Scar.

Reader’s POV

I know Ekko will be mad at me, but if I want to see my sisters again, I have to do it myself. Ekko just wants to protect me and I love him, I also still love Vi and..and Jinx. I want it to be how it was. I want Vi and Jinx to come back. They can live with us at the Sanctuary. I’m not sure how Ekko would feel about that but he’d do it if I convinced him. I left no trace of my leaving and make my way through the Undercity, being careful and alert like Ekko taught me.

3rd POV

Elsewhere in the Undercity, Jinx approaches the ruined arcade that hasn’t been touched since that day the Enforcers barged in on the kids. She carefully steps through the shattered glass window and the broken pieces crack under her boots. She rubs the dust between her fingers as she looks around. Everything is the same, covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. Jinx walks until she steps on something metallic. She looks down and see’s the metal plate with Mylo’s face drawn on from the boxing machine.

“Hmph,” Jinx bends down to pick it up, brushing off the dust. It’s a weird feeling for the girl. Mylo’s been gone for 6yrs, but to Jinx, he’s never really been gone. He’s always with her, just like Claggor and Vi.

“Oh what’s the matter Mylo? You worried Powder’s gonna beat you again?” Claggor’s voice echo’s in Jinx’s head as she stands. She glances at the scoreboard when the sudden chirping of a crow snaps the girl’s attention in an instant. She grabs her pistol and aims right at the bird. It caws once and cocks its head. Jinx mimics the movement before shooting the bird dead. She blows the smoke off her pistol before twirling it and sheathing it back at her side as she walks up to the boxing machine.

Memories of a teenage Vi assault Jinx. She remembers how her sister would move with quick precision. Jinx examines the metal frame where the plate goes and puts it in, dusting her hands off. She looks around and finds a metal piece that’s supposed to go into the boxing machine. After eyeing it to make sure it’s ok, she blows the dust off before inserting it. Jinx flips a switch and metal starts powering up. She pushes a lever up which causes a yellow liquid, presumably gasoline to power up the machine. The lights turn on to illuminate the area as Jinx stands before the game.

“Vander,” Jinx hear’s Vi’s voice.

“Because you’re a jinx!” Vi’s voice snaps angrily. Jinx remembers her screaming, her sobbing and pleading for Vi.

“What makes you different makes you strong,” Vi’s voice tells her as Jinx remembers when Vi would love her, stroking her cheek and brushing the hair off her face. But it didn’t matter now. The pain of what happened tainted everything. Vi had slapped her. That night still fresh in her mind. A tender touch turned violent. Jinx’s eyes snap open and she starts swinging, hitting the metal plate with her unprotected fist.

Jinx remembers sitting with her sisters on the roof of the Last Drop that’s contrasted with Vi grabbing her face and yelling at her. Jinx dodges and hits again and again, dodging out of the way. She grunts a bit, remembering how a teenage Vi would move, though instead of Vi’s precise punches, Jinx was wild with her swings and kicks, something Vi didn’t do. The scoreboard changes, launching ‘Pow’ up the leaderboard.

Jinx attacks wildly, almost uncontrolled as she lets the trauma of what happened consume her. Yelling with each hit, grunting until she remembers being told to stay behind. She was alone in the basement.

“RAAAHHHH!!!” The memory of Powder screams.

“AAAGGHHH!!!” Jinx screams, unaware of the tears streaming down her face as she hits the old padding as hard as she can. The teen pants heavily, sweating as she hears the scoreboard change. She looks up and sees her name just below Vi’s #1 spot. She groans angrily before grabbing her pistol and shooting the metal plate.

Vi heads towards the Last Drop, a place she considered home for a good portion of her life. She stops on a metal bridge to look down at the glowing green sign. Different owner different color. Caitlyn approaches and looks down to see a brawl in front of the bar.

“Well, that place does look like it has bodies buried in the basement,” Caitlyn comments off-handedly, angering Vi. Vi’s grip on the metal rail tightens. That was the specific room where she and her siblings lived.

“You don’t know anything,” Vi growls angrily, shoving Caitlyn’s shoulder as she walks past the rookie Enforcer, who just gives her a look, not understanding Vi’s anger. Vi heads to Margot’s Pleasure House, the place on the napkin Jericho gave her.

Back in Piltover, Councilor Medarda has warned Jayce that by shutting down the Hexgate, he’s made an enemy of everyone else in the Council, so he must regain their favor by schmoozing. Viktor had opposed when Jayce talked to him but Jayce insisted he had to attend an opera musical performance, so Viktor merely sighed and told him to go. At the opera, Mel had pointed out who did what, and when Jayce questioned the legality, Mel had a…twist to it. She advised Jayce to offer something the other Councilors would want: to be Hextech partners (despite already having one in Viktor).

Having to make a split second decision, Mel had gotten the attention of an older Councilor who was particularly upset with Enforcers searching her home, due to Jayce’s new order of security. The musician plays solo on stage as they talk. After Jayce takes Mel’s advice and offers the Councilwoman a deal with all new hextech creations, the two shake hands.

“How can I reject such an auspicious offer?” She replies as they shake. He smiles and nods.

As the music swells, it’s all a blur for Jayce. He has to keep track of everything he has to say to these council members. Drinks clink together. Jayce shakes so many hands. Heimerdinger, having bought seat tickets to the event, is sitting near the front enjoying the show, completely unaware of Jayce and his dealings with the council members.

The music comes to an end and the musician bows and everyone, including the council members, clap. Mel looks at Jayce with slight pride. He’s learning his role as a council member, despite not wanting it.

Vi’s POV

We get to Margot’s and I knock on the door. The window slides open and through the metal bars I see the guard look at us. I look back at him and he sighs before unlocking the door and opening it.

I look down the dark hall to hear laughing. The only light are the few candles lining the hall.

“The one place all the secrets are spilled,” I tell her and walk in. She sighs and follows me. I hear a chuckle along with some others chatting elsewhere. I glance through a beaded doorway and see someone taking a puff off a pipe. The smoke is purple like Shimmer. We pass an open bathroom with someone actively bathing, enjoying someone else and the Enforcer peeks in before catching up to me.

“How exactly do you propose we go about this?” She asks me, stopping. Someone in a full body leather suit with a gag walks by.

“Let ‘em think you work here,” I answer obviously.

“Excuse me? I will not,” She says, clearly caught off guard.

“You know what your problem is?” I ask, walking up to the Rookie.

“Please. Tell me,” she replies sarcastically with an eye roll.

“You expect everyone to give you what you want. If you really want people to talk to you, you have to let them think you have what they want,” I explain, pacing around her.

“And what do I have?” She asks. I look her up and down before stepping into her space.

“You’re hot, cupcake,” I tell her and she backs into the wall, I put a hand on the wall next to her.

“So what’ll it be, man or woman?” I ask.

“Uhm-..” She stutters just as someone in a blue suit and white mask walks by. I grab his arm and pull him towards us.

“Hi, I-I’m Pim. What’s your name?” The man, Pim, stutters.

“Matilda. But you can call her whatever you want,” I say, glancing at the Enforcer. She her eyes widen and she gasps slightly before smiling.

“Ah, y-yes. M-Matilda. My parents named me Matilda. After my great-grandmother Matilda, the, uh..-“ she lies horribly. But that doesn’t matter. I’ll ditch her here after I go talk to Margot.

I slip down the hall quietly before getting to her office. I walk in and she looks up at me from some sort of paperwork on her desk.

“Would you believe it?” She asks, clearly not expecting me.

Ekko’s POV

I’m pacing around, waiting to hear from someone, anyone, when I see a streak of green light in the sky. It flies down and I see it’s Scar on his hoverboard.

“Little man-we don’t have confirmation, but we think there’s activity going on near the Lanes. Two guys who got beat up and robbed says it was a woman with pink hair,” he says.

“What? A-Are you sure?!” I demand and he nods. I look away, trying to think. It might not be Vi, but if it is…If Y/N finds out about her, she might want to tell Jinx—

“There’s something else,” Scar says, getting my attention.

“What is it?” I ask.

“There was someone else with her. A female Enforcer, ‘bout the same age,” he says. My eyes widen. All Enforcers work for Silco. None of them can be trusted. If one is with Vi, then that means she must work for him as well.

“Where’d they go?” I ask.

“Margot’s, not sure why,” Scar answers.

“Keep an eye on them. It might be Vi, it might not, but we have to know where the Enforcer is,” I explain and Scar nods.

“Sure thing boss,” he says.

“Any sign of Y/N?” I ask and he shakes his head sadly.

“She’s small and she’s quick. None of us could track her, she practically disappeared. I’m not sure where she went,” he says. I sigh and rub my temple.

“Alright, thanks for looking,” I say.

“We’ll keep up the search until she’s back,” he assures me. I nod and do my best to reassure everyone that overheard our conversation that the Enforcer is no threat to us. That we are well hidden and fortified in the Undercity so well that not even Silco has threatened us.

3rd POV

The industrialist walks into his office as Marcus, the Sheriff, twirls the same blood soaked coin from all those years ago in the alley where Sheriff Grayson and Benzo were killed.

“Sheriff, what a lovely surprise,” Silco says, walking over to sit down at his desk.

“The Hextech wonder boy is on the Council now, and he’s asking questions. It’s only a matter of time before he finds the truth,” Marcus says with a biting tone.

“What is truth, but a survivor’s story?” Silco asks as he opens one of his desk drawers.

“If I’m discovered, we’re both finished,” Marcus threatens. Silco pulls out a metal homemade grenade that’s covered in the symbol of the Firelight leader, but in Jinx’s classic pink and blue colors.

“Good thing you’ve located proof of the Firelights’ involvement” Silco says. Marcus approaches and picks up the grenade.

“This has gone too far,” he says, looking at the explosive device. It has a green light on it and metal things that look like teeth.

Marcus’s POV

For some reason, the chomping teeth of the grenade feels familiar to me, but I can’t place it. My eyes spot the pin and I thumb it. Silco notices.

“Hmm? Imagining yourself a hero? One final act to make you the martyr you’ve always seen yourself as?” Silco asks with a chuckle. I want to do it. I want to kill him. I could do it. I can do it. I pant slightly before screaming, pulling the pin. The grenade flashes pink and Silco’s eyes widen as we are enveloped in a fiery explosion.

“Then what’re you waiting for?” Silco asks, getting my attention. Just a fantasy.

I look at the grenade before sighing. I wanted to pull the pin. I wanted to so bad. But I couldn’t. We lock eyes for a moment before I walk out with the grenade, hoping this will stall Councilor Talis.

Jinx’s POV

Unbeknownst to Sheriff Marcus, I was up in the rafters the whole time.

“Ah, he’s faltering. You need to weaponize the Hextech soon,” Silco tells me. I shut my eyes.

“I can’t do it. Just…give it to the doctor,” I reply, trying not to succumb to the intense emotions.

“You’re the only one I can trust with this, Jinx,” Silco argues rationally. I have to tell him.

“I keep seeing them…that day,” I admit. I watch as he stands and glances up at me.

“Fear haunts us all, child,” he says. He’s told me before that we are the same. Both of us betrayed by a sibling.

“Come with me. I want to show you something,” he says and I obediently follow him out.

3rd POV

Silco leaves the bar with Jinx. Unbeknownst to them, they are being watched by Y/N, who is hiding in Benzo’s boarded up shop. She managed to sneak in through Little Man’s secret hideout. As much as Y/N wants to go after Jinx, she knows she can’t, not while Silco’s around.

Back at Margot’s, Vi is sitting in the brothel owner’s office. Vi’s fists are clenched lightly.

“Sweetheart, I was real sad to hear about Vander. And the kids. Just terrible,” Margot tells Vi. Her fists loosen a bit.

“By the looks of it, no one down here lifted a finger to stop Silco,” Vi argues.

“A few tried but Silco’s got the muscle…and the money,” Margot explains, “he took over the Last Drop.”

“I saw,” Vi says, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

“Things have changed without Vander looking out for us,” Margot says, taking a drag off her cigarette.

“Have you heard anything about Powder? I think Silco has her,” Vi asks. Margot gives her a sad look and shakes her head.

“What about Y/N?” Vi asks.

“The Firelights. She’d hang around with them,” Margot says.

“I have to find them,” Vi says, standing up.

“Silco’s number two’s a regular. I can have Miguel tell you where to find her,” Margot explains, talking of the ‘regular’.

“I owe you,” Vi tells Margot and walks out.

“It’s nothing,” Margot says after Vi leaves.

Vi walks back down the hall and passes a room where the Enforcer is. She giggles, getting Vi’s attention. Vi stops and glances over to see the Enforcer charming another woman and Vi smiles. Well I’ll be damn, Vi thinks to herself, scoffing lightly.

Reader POV

Since I can’t go after Jinx, I have to try Vi. I can’t be certain since I’ve only overheard mere words, but I think Vi might be in the Undercity. If I can find Vi, then together, the two of us can get Jinx ourselves and take her back to the Sanctuary. Then we can finally be a whole family again. I glance around and look for anything that might help. I search Uncle Benzo’s desk. I walk behind and-

“Agh!” I yelp in surprise when I see Uncle Benzo’s skeleton! Reddish brown hair clings to the skull and the clothes are dusty and ragged. Bits of muscle and skin are still visible around his stomach, chest and upper arms and legs. Not quite all the way rotted. Maybe in another 6yrs. So that’s what Huck did with the pawn shop owner’s body. I look around and spot a black book. The first page says ‘contacts’. First is Jericho but the second…the second one is Margot. Maybe she’d know something about Vi, since Ekko is so…stubborn about telling me.

Making my way out through the ventilation shaft to Ekko’s secret hideout, I hop from the rooftop onto the ladder and climb down.

Vi’s POV

I find Miguel and he tells me it’s Sevika that’s the regular.

“Sevika? She’s alive?!” I ask incredulously and he nods.

“She’s Silco’s number 2,” Miguel explains.

“Where is she?” I ask.

“She normally plays cards with the scum that hang around, just past Jericho’s stand I think,” Miguel says. I nod.

“Thanks Miguel,” I say and he nods. He was in his mid 20s when I was 16, so he must be in his early 30s now?

“Your old man…he really was the glue that held this community together,” Miguel says and I nod.

“I know,” I say and we part ways. I walk out, leaving the Enforcer behind. It’s not that I want to escape, it’s that I don’t want to involve her in the fight I’m going to have with Sevika.

Reader POV

I make sure to keep to myself, my head down, though I make sure to look up occasionally to make sure I’m still going the right way. I gasp when I see a couple people that I know work for Silco, walk around. I turn and head the opposite way, making sure to stay clear of them. I don’t really know much about Margot other than what my older siblings told me 6 years ago.

“She’s a nice lady but she’s in a dirty business,” Claggor had told me. I didn’t understand at the time, being only 4, but now that I’m older, I understand it’s prostitution. A whorehouse. A place people go for drugs and sex.

I spot the building down the street. That’s when I spot someone. I see someone who looks from the Undercity…the clothes are non-descript and the jacket obscures the person’s upper body but the bright, spiky, shaggy pink hair sticks out above everything else and my eyes widen.

“Vi,” I gasp. I watch as the woman I think is Vi walk down the street and turn the corner. I can’t let her get away! I climb up a ladder and onto a roof. I hop along the close-together rooftops, the buildings practically crammed together, careful to keep out of sight, moving in the shadows. I feel my lungs constrict and vibrate slightly from the asthma I have. I slow down a bit, letting Vi get further away but I think I know where she’s going.

3rd POV

Back in Piltover, Viktor works hard in the lab while Mel and Jayce fall into their emotions. Sky tries to ask Viktor if he has plans after work, but he shuts her down, saying he will probably just sleep there. Sky tries hard not to take it personally, after all, Viktor is dying and has only a certain amount of time left. But she wished she could show him how to enjoy the time he does have.

Sky leaves the workaholic Viktor to his evolving Hexcore that now has multiple glowing blue runes on it. It moves up and down, left to right, turning, clicking…adapting. Viktor is desperate for anything but no matter the combination of runes, nothing works. He slams his desk angrily, shoving his chair back, making papers fly off the desk. He gasps a bit and looks at the Hexcore. His vision is starting to tunnel. Viktor stumbles forward, coughing into his hand, blood splattering on his fingers and onto the desk. All while Jayce his having sex with Mel, unaware that someone he’s close it is literally dying. Viktor slips off the desk and slumps to the floor, passed out, knocking his cane over.

While Viktor is out, the Hexcore starts crackling with electricity. Viktor’s blood on the desk is so close that the Hexcore starts to attract it. The red liquid slowly moves towards the Hexcore before a drop of blood rises up and fuses with the Hexcore!

In the Undercity, Silco has taken Jinx to the water where Vander nearly killed him.

“I almost drowned in these waters,” Silco tells Jinx.

“You told me a million times,” Jinx complains, rolling her eyes.

“Vander wasn’t the man you thought he was,” Silco continues.

“Right, he was like a brother to you, and he turned his back and blah, blah, blah. Did I miss anything?” Jinx asks bored. Silco snickers.

“I’ve got a new one for you,” Silco tells her, running his fingers in the cool, contaminated water. It drips off his hand and Jinx watches intently.

“That day, I let a weak man die,” Silco says before crouching down, dunking himself in, sloshing the water. He returns after a second and wipes his face and hair back.

“And another was reborn. Betrayal, that pain that feels like it’ll eat you from the inside out, can either break you or forge you into something greater,” Silco says as Jinx looks at him before looking away.

“You need to let Powder die,” Silco says, the old name making her look at him, “So the fear of pain will no longer control you.” He explains, offering a hand.

Jinx moves to take it and walks towards him, grabbing his first two fingers, much like she did as a little girl, when they first met.

“You’re strong now. Just like you were always meant to be. Jinx is perfect,” Silco tells his daughter. She steps to him and he gently cups the back of her head, still holding her hand with the other. He gives her a small reassuring smile before letting her lay down in the water. The teenager exhales and Silco gives her a look as if to say ‘ready, now,’ before letting her dip below the surface of the water.

Vi’s POV

I pull up my hood and walk down the street, unaware that I’m being followed. All I care about is finding Sevika. I thought she died. I swear I thought she died. I saw her…then Vander—the building—she was in there-but…if Margot says she’s alive…I have to get to her.

I walk past a few people, bumping into one who grumbles, calling me a bitch and flipping me off, but I keep moving. I stop behind a corner as it opens to a small courtyard between buildings. Sevika is sitting at a card table, playing with two guys. One of them, I recognize. She’s smoking a cigarette. I glare at her, fiery rage is all I feel when I see her for betraying Vander.

3rd POV

Luckily Heimerdinger was staying late and managed to find Viktor and get him to the hospital. The head of the academy also called Jayce to inform him of what’s happened. While Mel sleeps, Jayce slips out and joins Viktor in his hospital room. Mel wakes up and finds her bed empty as Jayce asks about Viktor when the man wakes.

“Jayce?” Viktor asks.

“Viktor—the doctors uhm..—they-“ Jayce tries telling him but Viktor sighs defeatedly.

“How much time do I have?” He asks as Sevika plays the Death and Magician cards in the game, winning.

“Rotten luck boys,” she says, putting her lit cigarette back in her mouth.

Vi’s POV

I race towards Sevika as she reaches to grab the pot winnings of the game and slam my knee into her cheek! Cards, money and Sevika’s cigarette goes flying. She drops to the ground and the two men playing her look at me with a gasp. The one with a prosthetic nose is the same guy from that street fight after the robbery gone wrong 6 years ago. I had to help Mylo with him by slamming a 2x4 of wood into his face, bashing his nose in. If he recognized me, he made no motion of it as the two run away cowardly.

“Vi?” Sevika asks as she gets to her knees. I storm up to her. She tries to backhand me as she stands but I dodge easily and grab the dark skinned woman by her ponytail. I turn and slam the older woman into the concrete wall, pinning her arm behind her and her head against the wall.

“You filthy traitor,” I growl.

“Vander had his chance,” she snarls back. That’s when I see a glowing purple light under the cloak she’s wearing. The arm I’m holding suddenly moves and when it does I hear a mechanical whirring noise. The arm moves unnaturally, breaking free of my grip. She kicks me back and I fall to the ground. As Sevika stalks up to me, she takes off the cloak and I see a mechanical arm! I gasp. I watch as a vial of Shimmer pops up at her shoulder and turns, clicking in place. The Shimmer travels down the whole arm, powering it up. She uses it to motion at me and I stand up. I shrug off my red jacket and take a couple of test punches as she blocks them easily. I swing forward and her metal arm catches and locks in place, trapping me!

“I see you never learned patience,” she says before head butting me and punching my stomach. I hit the wall behind me and gasp at the hard hit. I see her swing at me with that metal arm and I duck. I hit her ribcage but she tanks it so I swing at her face and she merely grunts. I dodge one of her punches from her normal arm so when she tries with her mechanical one, I’m able to grab hold of the upper area and and uppercut her face. She yanks back and tries again, but I dodge, moving to her side. I get in a quick hit to her side before punching her face again. She staggers back and I leap up into the air and swing as hard as I can, feeling my fist connect with her cheek. She goes down, panting a bit and sweating. The Shimmer canister raises and injects itself again. Sevika glares at me, her dark eyes now a sickly purple as she growls at me. She grabs a metal drum and tosses it up before punching it at me! I run to dodge but the Shimmer gives her incredible strength and speed as she bodies me into the wall! I yelp as her hand comes up to wrap around my neck. I’m reminded of the fight with Shimmer Deckard 6 years ago. I tried charging him and he caught me by my neck. Now it’s Sevika. She picks me up and slams me into a wooden crate, hitting the hard ground. I groan as she drags me by my neck and I try prying her metal hand off, but it’s no use! She picks me up and pins me against the wall, luckily she let go of my neck, but her forearm is pressed against my cheek. The Shimmer is hot.

Because she’s so close, I manage to knee her crotch. She grunts in pain and bends forward. I wind back with both fists and hit her back as hard as I can before grabbing hold of her torso and tossing the woman into the wall. She grunts, panting and I stagger a bit from the effort. I make the same ‘come get me’ hand motion at her that she did to me earlier as I breathe hard. Sevika grunts and gets up, trying to swing at me, but I back up, dodging and hit her. I lead her into a narrow area between two buildings. I uppercut her jaw before slamming her head into the wall. I punch her and slam her head into the adjacent wall before speed punching her stomach and grabbing her head and collide my knee with her face. I pant heavily, covered in bruises, blood, and sweat. We both breathe heavily as Sevika gets to her feet. I growl and see a wooden gate behind her. I race towards Sevika, jump, and kick as hard as I can, hitting the ground myself but I hear her body crash through the wood and hit the street behind the gate.

She coughs and spits some blood out but I manage to step on her metal arm as she rolls onto her back, unaware we are being watched by someone. Sevika groans.

“Where’s my sister? Where is he keeping her?” I demand, winding back for another hit as I hold Sevika by her neck.

“Keeping her? You mean Jinx?” She asks me. My eyes widen at the name and I glare at her.

“She works for him,” Sevika says and I gasp. Clearly caught off guard, Sevika takes the opportunity to shank my side, piercing my flesh. I grunt. Sevika comes to my ear.

“She’s like his daughter,” Sevika says of Powder before shoving me to the ground. I fall easily as I feel something warm and liquid run down to my hip. I groan as I try to crawl away, but Sevika walks up to me, grabbing my cheeks in her normal hand.

“I’ll give her your regards,” Sevika says, her metal arm winding back for a hit. Her shoulder Shimmer canister raises and when it does, a single gunshot rings out and shatters the mechanism, making Sevika recoil, letting me go. Sevika looks to where the shot came from to see the Enforcer I left behind at Margot’s, standing on a bridge, aiming her rifle right at her. The Enforcer gets another shot off, but hits Sevika’s metal shoulder as she runs off, getting away.

“Why did you let her get a way?” I ask on my knees on the ground as the Enforcer approaches cautiously.

“Do you ever say ‘thank you’?” she asks back, putting her rifle away.

“He’s gonna know we’re here now,” I warn.

“Whose fault is that?” She asks. I smirk half heartedly as I feel blood drip out of me.

“You’re an alright shot,” I admit.

“I’m an excellent shot,” she corrects. I want to tell her that I would know but I keep my mouth shut. I sigh.

“You gonna help me out, cupcake?” I ask, holding a hand up to her.

“Stop calling me that. My name is Caitlyn,” she says as she hauls me to my feet.

“But you’re so sweet, like a cupcake,” I tell her as I lean heavily on her, my arm draped over her shoulders, unaware we are being watched. Caitlyn chuckles.

“Shut up,” she replies as we walk.

Cait’s POV

As I let Vi lean on me, I can’t help but think of that shooting test and what Sheriff Grayson asked me.

“What are you shooting for?” She asked. At the time, I didn’t have an answer. But now…now I think I do. I’m shooting for Vi…for people like Vi. People that need help whether they be in the lowest parts of the Undercity or the highest seat of the Council in Piltover. I’m an Enforcer because I can help this city. I know I can.

Reader POV

I watch Vi’s fight with Sevika and resist the urge to call out to her. I wince with every hit Vi takes and when Sevika stabs Vi, I find a way down to the ground off the roofs but by the time I could get down, Sevika was gone. I saw no sign of her and after watching the Enforcer pick up Vi, I ran back to a side alley and that’s when my eyes immediately meet Sevika’s! I gasp and immediately run to hide. I can’t tell if she’s chasing me—I don’t think she is, but either way, I think I might have to tell Ekko since I’m pretty sure Sevika will tell Silco about me at the very least.

3rd POV

As Sevika rounds the corner, panting, covered in blood, she is shocked to see a young girl looking at her. Their eyes meet and the girl gasps and quickly disappears. At first, she appeared to be a random street urchin. But…the eyes. Sevika will always remember the eyes of those 3 sisters Vander adopted. Vi with her ice cold, tough eyes, Jinx with her thousand-yard stare and unhinged look and Y/N…Y/N’s eyes always had a brightness that never dulled, no matter how rough the Undercity was. She had the courage and bravery of Vi but the wild, unpredictability of Jinx and a unique light that was all her own. Despite all 3 not having the same eye color, you can tell they are related. And that’s what Sevika knew. She knew this girl…this girl was the youngest of the sisters. Jinx’s little sister!

As Jinx perfects the energy capacitor, Sevika manages to limp back to Silco’s office.

“You’re making a mess,” Silco tells Sevika as he applies makeup to his scarred eye. Jinx spins in her chair, watching her successful test as Sevika approaches Silco’s desk.

“The sisters…they’re back,” Sevika says and Silco’s eyes widen as he whips around in his chair.

“From the dead?!” He demands.

End.

Chapter 7