#rather than bring it up in a conversation

[diorkittys]

somethin’ sweet before i go ˚ ♡ ⋆｡ vi + fem!reader

synopsis : when your arrest turns out to be an attractive, arrogant zaunite who’s, obviously, had a bad night, there’s one thing she asks for before being turned in. c’mon, can’t you give her something sweet before handing her to a cold cell?

—TW : kinda hate fucking , fingering , dom!vi , afab , post jinx attack

“hey, princess, any chance you’re sweet enough to loosen these up a bit?” your pinkette prisoner grunts, rolling a kink out her neck.

your expression is nothing short of unimpressed for the taunting games your newest problem has come up with. glaring up from your paperwork, you bit the inside of your cheek in frustration, “quit with the pet names—do you find your situation funny?” you turn around to face the arrogant zaunite, cuffed hands extended behind her back. you found it rather annoying how nonchalant she was—or worst, she found this amusing. “you are being detained for assault,” you continue, “that’s a night in jail, ‘sweet stuff.’” mocking her previous taunt.

she just scoffed, but it was far from being insulted. a sly smirk and dangerous blue eyes peaking beneath cherry strands looked up at you.

“ya’ think i’m sweet, princess?”

you hear the familiar clanking of metal rubbing against each other, bringing attention to her restraints.

“undo the cuffs and i’ll treat you sweet all nigh-“ her prurient statement cut off by the force of your forearm knocking into her chest, subsequently shoving her against the wall.

“you forget yourself, trencher,” your arm jabs in the smug, although rather charming (and quite attractive), outlaw’s chest, and her eye twitches in a wince. “you’re in my territory now—it’d suit you well to not make a fool of me; i’m sure you’ve been taught the same in that… mess of a city across the bridge.”

your tongue held venom as you almost seemingly spat out the insult like it was truly sickening to speak of. there’s an unspoken challenge being held between the both of your glares. you tack on a huff from your flared nostrils to seal the conversation and to warn the zaunite in front of you from talking back.

but as the tense silence subsides, the cherry-haired woman draws out a teasing smirk, scoffing again, “ever been to the undercity, sweet-cheeks?”

her question seemed more rhetorical than anything. you didn’t answer, clenching your jaw, keeping your eyes fixated on hers as to not give a look of submission. she took your quietness as a ‘no’ and raised a brow,

“thought so.”

she leaned her head in closer, as close as your arm would allow—although, there wasn’t much distance to set you apart anyways. her eyes lidded now as your confidence wavered from the almost predatory air hung around her; like when a lion, hidden in the tall grass, gets a perfect angle of their prey.

“they’d eat that pretty, little ass up as soon as you stepped foot beyond that bridge.”

you gasped, quietly, eyes widened at her obscene words. you could already feel your body betraying you, blood involuntarily heating up the plump of your cheeks.

the arm held sturdy against your prisoner was now weak, a second thought; not to her, no, that was accordingly.

calloused hands snaked their way to your waist, armored with enforcer gold, a symbol of integrity to wear, resolute.

your eyes flicked to the (god, she is attractive) woman near inches away; you were trapped in a lion’s den, she was already staring back at you.

“how di—when did you…”

so much for standing your ground—your stuttering voice gave it all away.

“what? get those things off?” she chuckled, motioning back behind her, “you were right ‘bout one thing, princess: i learned a whole deal in that ‘mess of a city’.”

she near whispered your quote, not hushed, but emphasized, troublingly so. her hands wandered, dangerously, coming to settle at the plush of your hips, hips that had you bent atop her. a deft thumb pushed pass your attire and gently circled into your bare skin.

“are you… are you gonna hurt me?” you pressed your lips in a fine line, apprehensively awaiting a dreaded answer.

but to your surprise, she paused, then snorted, and in a quick motion, she manhandled you to sit on her lap. you yelped in shock, your hands were rigid against her chest that you were so very close to now; stiff as a board as you feared for the worst.

“can’t a girl want somethin’ sweet before you send me to a cold, hard cell, huh?” now the finger in charge of exploring your supple skin came to swipe at your plush bottom lip. “but if you want it to hurt i can make that happen too.” her voice was sultry, thick with an insatiable desire.

your proximity gave you a chance to see the small initial tattooed on her cheek, “vi.” you spoke out loud, really only for you to memorize.

vi smirked, “yeah, princess? don’t wear it out just yet.”

your brows furrowed, pursing your lips; you tried to move, but vi had a firm hold on your hips that just wouldn’t let up… (not that you even tried that hard). “piltover station will be here soon… we can’t—i can’t be seen like this; this is unprofessional.”

“when’d you make that call?” honestly, vi was barely listening to your reluctance and excuses, busying herself with unfastening your gold belt that you hardly even noticed.

“an hour ago.”

“then we have an hour to ourselves. c’mon, do you really think ‘proper piltover station’ is any more worried about a call for an undercity scum than the rest of the hundred they receive a day? they’re preoccupied with the councilors after that attack… seems to me like they left you out the loop, hot stuff.”

you took offense to her insulting jab at your importance, disregarding her sing-song mockery of addressing piltover station. you reached for her wrist that was unbuttoning the blue fabric of your enforcer two-split skirt, “what is that supposed to mean?”

she took no notice to your grip and pushed aside the outer garment, glancing back up at you through that addictive, crimson hair. she gave a dry smirk, “didn’t mean to rile you up, princess—just meant that i could treat you better than them.”

that betraying flush tickled your cheeks once again, and you, rather hesitantly, let way of your grasp, allowing her to do what she needs.

she snorted, in an amused manner, tapping your thigh, “sit up.” how shameful it was for you, an enforcer, to take commands from anyone else—let alone an… undersider. yet, here you were, standing upright as she told you to, albeit a little more eager than intended; you hoped she hadn’t noticed.

she noticed.

her legs spread out on the chair, making her appear even larger than her stature gave her credit for. she bent over, resting her elbows on her thighs as she pulled at the hem of your khaki shorts. you assisted and looped two thumbs at the waistband to shimmy down your legs. your shorts pooled at your feet and vi leaned back to admire the sexy sight she had in front of her with a grin on her face.

a pretty enforcer, nervous as can be, with a half-undone uniform and pink, lace panties exposed just for her. what a contrasting view. you were captivating. already trained to take orders like a puppy, she’d think in her crude mind; you’d be her good girl for a while, you’d be so good for her.

with two fingers, she motioned for you to come sit back down on her lap; the way her legs manspread was inviting enough. you obliged, holding onto her broad shoulders.

those engrossing fingers came back to handle your hips, slowly moving to cup the mound of your ass and kneading. you huffed, painted nails digging into her trapezius.

“ya’ like pink, princess?” she mentioned your cute, lacey panties; although, now stained a darker shade.

your eyes flickered up to her hair before timidly searching anywhere else to keep your focus busy. vi found that cute, not admitting that that turned her on way more than it should.

“i don’t disdain it.” you purse your lips, “and quit calling me that.”

vi chuckled, “but you’re poised, like a princess.”

“you have no idea of me.”

“well, i know you’re risking your title just so i can get you off,” fingers go to trace the hem of your panties, her middle drags along your clit muffled by the fabric. she grins, “and by the looks of it, you’re enjoying the thrill.”

you gasp at the sensation, a feeling your pussy was aching for. “is it because you know we might get caught? geez, princess, you into that kind of thing?” she almost laughs at you, but not to mock you; she finds that hot as fuck.

adept hands push the annoying polyester to the side. fingers, rather spider-like, creep over your throbbing cunt; middle and index gather your pooling slick to act as lube as she glides over your clit.

you bite your lip to suppress a moan. you find your legs begin to tremble, being forced open by her own, keeping you spread for her to do as she likes.

“i didn’t know topsiders could be so dirty.” this time she does laugh. she rubs at your clit long enough for your heart rate to pick up, long enough for your head to find stability on her shoulder, long enough for you to become a mess in her hands… but, not long enough for you to get off just yet.

vi reaches down to your neglected hole, pressing her index atop it, deep enough for an audible squelch to echo through your office, which in turn makes vi groan. you mewl, nails digging deeper into the muscle of her back.

“not so poised now, though.” she mutters, mostly to herself. with your dripping slick, it takes nothing more than a swift movement for vi to slide her index inside you, bottoming out knuckles deep. you keen, arching off her chest. the scratch from her bandages only added fuel to the fire.

“fuck.” vi’s grip on your hip strengthens, almost certainly leaving a prominent bruise later. “do that for me again, princess.”

and she didn’t have to ask because as she pulls her finger almost fully out, tantalizingly slow, she greedily shoves it right back in, curling the tip of it to hit in that, god, that perfect spot you know so well.

and, again, you keen, long and guttural—like a silent scream. subconsciously, your pelvis bucks into her hand, searching for more than you could even take.

after a few minutes of this, vi deems herself your voice and determines you’re ready for two. she pulls out entirely, much to your dismay, teasing you with a pause.

you brace yourself for something that never comes, and you huff, slightly pushing yourself up off her shoulder,

“vi… don’t st—“

and she stuffs her middle and index into your pretty, impatient pussy.

“ah!”

“who said i was stopping, pumpkin? we just started.” you slam your head back to its assigned spot.

vi thought she was right in this moment: you looked a complete and utter mess. it was one thing to fuck a pretty girl, it was another thing that she had a topsider, an officer—someone who, to piltover, was a woman of dignity and honor… a rich, privileged somebody who hated zaunites, found them filthy and worthless…hunched over her shoulder with a sopping cunt you were practically begging her to abuse. now that’s ironic. (and was you coming undone for her maybe a little bit of a victory for her hatred of topside, that she was degrading—fucking someone so noble?)

“shit, baby,” vi cursed, biting her lip. her whole train of thought did nothing but make her more horny, and she pumped extra hard this time, making sure even the graze of her knuckle filled you up.

“when’s the last time someone’s fucked you like this?” she chuckled—you hated her smug little laugh.

you sneered, just not before you moaned into the crook of her neck, breath fanning over her black-inked tattoos. “that’s, fuck, none of your concern, underside.” you spat, but, really, your words held no weight, not like this.

“hey, no need for the name calling, princess; if you’re a virgin too that’s totally fine—honestly kinda hot.” she teased, grabbing the mound of your ass to raise you up and slam back down on her fingers. you cried, your hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in that (rememberable) cherry hair.

“i’m not!—i’ve had—ugh! i’ve done this plenty of times… not that, ah, you should need to know.”

“oh yeah? you fuck a lot of your inmates then?… or is that just my privilege?” vi leaned into your ear, knowing that’d get you going. and what do you know? it did.

and you would’ve argued back, head picked up and everything, had she not curled her fingers the way she did or twist to find an ever better playing field or, god! even the lechery in her voice had you toppling over, had you right there! yes, fuck, right there!

“fuck, vi, right there! keep going! yeah, right there, ugh!” you moaned, legs shaking, trying desperately to close and hide away from how fucking good this felt.

you bucked into her hand and you didn’t have to tell vi twice because she was already pumping extra hard and faster than before, with a combination of her thumb rubbing circles into your swollen clit.

“shit, princess. almost there?” she already knew the answer. she was groaning as if she was fucking herself; just the pure sight of you, of this, was enough… although, she’d need to engrave this memory into her brain and use it later to get off herself (she could use this picture of you to get off for years it felt like).

“vi!”

you sang like gospel, pulling her hair like you’d fall if you hadn’t. you came hard, right on her bandaged fingers and she road you through it until the only thing you could hear in the room was the lewd, wet noises coming from your hole.

she stuffed you full of your own juices and at that point, you couldn’t tell if that or her hands were more filling.

you were both panting, one more than the other. vi hoisted your left leg over hers to hold you bridal style as you settled down. bringing her hand to the light, she pulled apart her middle and index to watch your slick web between them and she weakly laughed.

blue eyes looked over to the gold, industrial clock you had sitting on your work-desk, reading a quarter til’ 12. she sighed, picking you up with her before setting you on the chair you had originally handcuffed her to.

“looks like i gotta go, princess.” she feigned innocent, as if this whole interaction was a drive by. one by one she picked up discarded clothing and crouched at your legs to dress you back up. you, too tired to protest to being treated like a child, let her dress you like a doll, even buckling up your belt.

you watched as she went to write something on a piece of sticky note paper you had sitting by your confidential files before turning to walk out the door, running a hand through her hair.

“you can’t leave—you’re… you’re under arrest.” there was no confidence in your tone, just a fucked out raspy voice.

vi stopped before leaving, hands in her pockets, “tell ‘em officer kiramann already came to pick me up, they won’t give you trouble.” she threw the hood of her red jacket over her head, reaching for the doorknob.

“oh, and… meet me at my place if you wanna do this again… okay, princess?”

[endearng]

Tie

Pairing: switch!Spencer Reid x sub!fem!reader Summary: Spencer gets unreasonably jealous of you. You let him take control to comfort and reassure him. That's what loving girlfriends do. WC: 3.6k Warnings: smut - oral (f receiving), edging, overstimulation, kinda softdom!Spencer, reader is compliant to everything he says, he's just as desperate as her, creamp1e (i long for a better word), bondage, p in v, dirty talk (they yap), pet names, pussy slapping. Jealous Spencer deserves a warning of its own. Minors, please, do not interact. A/N: I have no excuse for myself (I'm ovulating). This is pure filth and indulgent because I was being tortured with thoughts of Spencer.

Feedbacks are always welcomed and appreciated <3 Masterlist

Subtle touches from Spencer all night had you going crazy. Well, they weren’t exactly that subtle.

During a particular conversation you were having with Rossi about Italian cuisine (you were an enthusiast, both of cooking and eating Italian dishes like nothing else existed), Spencer, who had an armed slung over the chair you were sitting on, started twirling your hair in his fingers. When you laughed at some remark about how the French people are insane for combining dairy with fish, your boyfriend pulled your hair rather crudely. You glared at him from the corner of your eye.

You got somewhat angry because it was uncomfortable for you to be that intimate around others, but his teasing worked wonders on you. Now, you wanted his touch to be bolder, thirstier, needier, just to match your own sinful thoughts and wants. Right now, Spencer was saying goodbye to Rossi, who was waiting for a cab to take him and his wife back home. Spencer's hand rested at the small of your back. The wine you sipped all through the night, combined with Spencer's bratty behavior, was now making your pussy throb with need for your boyfriend. Nevertheless, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you all worked up in public. "Goodbye, Krystall, and again, happy birthday. Thank you for including me! It was incredible," you said to the woman, who hugged you warmly and thanked you with a smile on her face. "Looking forward to those cooking sessions you mentioned earlier," you said, a big smile on your face as you gave David Rossi a hug.

"Anytime, bellissima." He said simply as you pulled away, smile gracing his face. You held out your hand to Spencer to walk back to his car.

The nickname had struck a nerve. He wasn't jealous, no, he trusted you with his body and his soul, even if he, as a man of science, didn't believe in the latter — that's how much he loved and trusted you, and it was Rossi, for God's sake... Still, he was just another man. Another stupid, territorial man. He opened the door for you and you entered the car, giving him a peck on the lips, "Thanks, handsome."

"Anytime, bellissima," he said through gritted teeth after he closed the door and as you fastened your seatbelt, out of your earshot. He turned around to enter the car, taking the driver's seat.

You went home silently, but you could sense the heavy atmosphere between you on the way there. As you entered your apartment, he got down on his knees to take off your shoes for you. He always did it, no matter what. Apparently, acting weird was no exception to his care with you. You bit your lip, a little apprehensive to bring up the subject. "Thank you, baby," you said softly instead.

"You're welcome, darling." he said, not looking at you and taking longer than necessary in his task.

You sucked in a breath. "Okay, baby, what was that? We need to talk about it."

"What was what?"

"Just when we left the restaurant. I said thanks and you basically ignored me all the way here," you explained, even if you knew he definitely knew what you were talking about. your hand found the nape of his neck, making him look up at you. He had a guilty look on his face.

Busted.

He sighed, "I'm sorry, baby. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I was mean." He apologized, eyes sincerely searching your form and hands reaching up to rest on the sides of your hips.

"Why did you do it, then?"

"Bellissima. You know what it means. I just got... jealous? I should be the only one complimenting you," he said, now standing at full height in front of you. Kissing your lips, hands caressing your waist, touch light as a feather, "telling you how much you mean to me," you sighed as his lips brushed the skin of your neck, "how much it drives me crazy just seeing you," he bit the sweet spot just behind your ear, "my beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend. Mine."

You pulled on his hair so he could see your features. Looking him dead in the eye, with an almost angry look on your face. You wanted him to pay for everything he had done that night. "Baby, you were touching me all night, knowing that you were driving me insane. knowing you're the only one who gets to do that," you leaned in to kiss him softly. "And then throw a tantrum like the spoiled little thing that you are just because someone said a word to me? You know compliments mean nothing when it comes from someone who's not you, baby. Thought you knew better."

Silence. He looked at you like you kicked his dog. 

"Remind me, then," he retorted, looking you in the eye. "Remind me how much you're mine and mine only."

One of your favorite things about your relationship with Spencer was that, in public, your dynamic was totally different from what you were like between four walls. When you were surrounded by people, Spencer acted like a gentleman, always making sure to cater to your every whim, opening car doors, taking off your shoes for you, picking nice places to take you on dates, accepting your suggestions of what to wear — it was no coincidence that he looked a lot more styled lately, but you also loved his usual attires. It was how you met him and how you fell in love with him, after all.

But, in the bedroom (or wherever he decided to have you), it was totally different. You were compliant to everything he said, letting go of the control you had over yourself, over your relationship, over everything so he could take you to fucking heavens. You obeyed everything without so much a "yes, sir", and he fucking loved it.

He unzipped the skin-tight dress after leading you back to your shared room. He sat down on the edge of the bed, you stood before him, whose tie was loosened around his neck. "Is this all for me?" he asked as he saw what you had underneath your dress all night long, absolutely sick with the slightest idea that someone else could have that.

You sighed as he kissed your neck and trailed down to your breasts, easily unclasping your bra. "Yes, sir, all for you."

Just like clockwork, all his attention drifted to your breasts. One of his large, calloused hands held your waist securely and the other played with one of your nipples as he licked the other, his hot tongue circling the nub, making you whimper and sending a rush of wetness through your core. "mmm, always need my mouth full of you, angel."

"nnngh, it feels so good."

He smiled on your skin, biting your nipple afterwards. The sting made you see stars and desperate to feel him in some sort of way, you'd take anything he had to offer you. You just needed to be touched. As he continued your ministrations on your breasts, switching from one to the other, you moaned, your hands finding his hair. "Sir—ah—, can you please—touch me?"

He stopped his movements and looked up at you, laughing mockingly. "Is that all it takes, pretty? A few minutes of my mouth on you and you're already so pliant? So eager for me to touch you?"

"Yes, sir. I need you so bad."

"Tell me, then," he scoffed, "where do you want me to touch you?"

Your incoherent babbles meant nothing, so he just laughed at your poor attempt at an answer.

"You're so good at begging, aren't you?" You nodded, licking your lips with the sight of his wet ones. "Wanna kiss me, baby?"

"Always do. Can I?"

"Yes, you can." No matter how dominant he was, he could never deny you a kiss.

You leaned down to kiss him. The brush of your lips alone made Spencer crazy, craving more and more. He could spend hours just kissing you, never getting tired of the mind numbing sensation it had on him. You deepened the kiss, your tongue caressing his, earning a moan from his end. You smiled. "I love kissing you." You whispered as you barely pulled away, breathless.

"I know you do, pretty."

His hands trailed on the sides of your body, earning a shiver from you. Just as he reached the hem of your panties, they traveled up again, grazing the skin of your arms instead. As he found your hands, he gave them a gentle squeeze. He stood up and looked down at you, in for another kiss. "You have no idea what you do to me," he groaned. His words only spurred you further. "Take off my shirt. Slowly." he commanded. And you complied, taking every chance to brush your fingers against his hot skin, desperate to rake your nails on his chest, to make him shiver for you, too.

Spencer turned you around gently so you could see yourself in the big mirror placed in front of the bed. You watched as he pushed your hair out of his way, resting it on your left shoulder to give him access to your neck, his hands finding your breasts so he could play with them, too. He started with light kisses on your neck, lips barely brushing the area, making goosebumps soon erupt on your skin. His caresses got gradually more aggressive, making you blatantly moan his name when he bit the sweet spot behind your ear and grinded his clothed dick against your ass. You whimpered, overwhelmed with so many stimuli.

Turning you to face him, again, he sat you on the edge of the bed, covered only by your underwear in front of him. You could see the tent in his pants and you were desperate to taste him, to take him in your mouth in order to make him as crazy as he made you. God, the things you'd do to hear him whimper like he knew you loved to hear...

"Thinking about something, angel?" He chuckled, mocking you yet again when he saw what were you looking at and the position you put yourself in: cunt in full display after you placed both feet at the edge of the bed.

You nodded violently. That was how you always found yourself pleading for him. It didn't take much, honestly. "Please, sir, I'll do anything. jus', please, let me feel you,"

Anything...

"Aw, pretty, you're so desperate for me," his tone was condescending. "thought you'd wanted someone else for a moment tonight."

"No! No! Never, sir. Never. I only want you. I only want you to touch me."

Leaning down, his fingers raked over your stomach, ghosting over the fabric of your panties. Spencer groaned as he touched the wet patch on your underwear, glistening, begging for attention.

"'s just how much I want you..."

"Look at you, angel, begging me to have my way with you," he sneered, "so pretty..." he muttered, getting down on his knees.

Through your soaked underwear, Spencer caressed your mound and outer lips, almost as if he was drawing your cunt from scratch, tracing every single feature, making it cling even harder to the garment. Each touch made you feel eager. Want something, say something, right?

He teased you for what felt like hours, but when you were finally able to form a sentence, he pushed your panties to the side and he moaned lowly at the sight of you. "Spence—sir..." You started, but were cut by a breathless grunt that raked through you as he licked a broad stripe on your slit.

"You are soaked, princess, had to have a taste of you... you were sayin'?"

"Please, don't stop, sir," your hands flew to his hair, trying to push him back to what he had started.

"Nuh-uh, princess," he tsked, gathering his tie from the floor, "You don't deserve to touch me after the little show you put up today. I’m gonna have to tie you up, alright?" 

There it was. Your punishment.

One thing about Spencer is that he always made sure to tell you whatever he was planning on doing with you, both so that you could say no if you wanted to and also because it turned you on beyond limits. It made your heart soar, he was so careful with you, making every man on earth seem like straight up Neanderthals. You whined at his plan as he looked at you to see if you were okay with the idea.

You jutted your lip out, brows furrowing, but you couldn't disagree with him. Adorable, he thought. He tied both of your hands behind your back, using his fucking tie. "... Yes, 's alright. I jus' wish I could touch you so badly," you complained.

"I know, pretty," he cooed, "that's why I'm gonna give you a chance to be good for me, and when you prove to me you can do it, you can touch me all you want."

"O-okay," you stuttered as he started placing teasing kisses on your inner thighs. You sighed.

"You smell so good. Want me to taste you too, hm? You're soaked, your pussy is begging me to do something about it."

"Yes, yes, I do!" you almost yelled. "Please, sir, I'll be good for you."

"I know you fucking will." he stated. Just then, he started licking your pussy, delicately at first just so you could get used to the feeling of finally having him the way you wanted. His hands held your hips in place to stop you from moving. He was the one in control, after all.

Then, once he sucked your clit between his lips, he started flicking his tongue against the nub, eliciting moans from you. The taste of you in his tongue was something he could never get used to, every fucking time felt like the first. He felt addicted to the power it had over him. The best he could do was at least try to be in control. You squirmed, almost like you wanted to get away from him, but his firm hands held you in place. "Be good and stay still," he muttered against your core, slapping your pussy once. You nodded, whining, too lost in the feeling after the sting, in the feeling of his tongue punishing you in a rhythm that put you in a frenzy. Spencer's middle finger slowly pushed inside your fluttering walls. "You're dripping all over my fingers. What a messy girl."

Knuckle deep inside your cunt and mouth feverishly and steadily working on your clit, your boyfriend started to feel more and more desperate by the second with the sounds coming from your mouth. You, on the other hand, could almost taste your release, a complete mess on the bed, chants leaving your reddened lips from all the biting, "yes, sir! You make me feel s'good, you're s'deep in me. Fuck! I'm your good g—" as he heard your words tinged with desperation in a high pitched voice and felt the muscles in your pussy tighten, he quickly stopped his actions.

He would bet money that it hurt him more than it did you.

"Noooo..." you whined, like a spoiled brat. A breathless, messy, spoiled brat. You knew what you were in for from the moment he took off your shoes. "Please, please, sir. You can f-eel how desperate I am for you," you blabbered, trying to argue. "Can I show you?" You decided to take matters into your own hands. Well, as best as you could.

He stood up. "Let's see what you've got, princess." He gripped his shaft in front of you, making saliva pool in your mouth. "You're not even being fucked yet, and you're already this dumb, baby?" He sneered at you. You looked up at his face, taking in his dilated pupils watching you. You looked like any man's wet dream, perfect pussy on display, chest heaving with anticipation of what was coming next, face contorted in the filthiest expression in the world.

He would be happy just to watch you, but he was actually able to taste, touch, see, smell and hear the whole thing.

He was the luckiest man in the world.

Half sitting on the bed, back against the headboard and already off of his slacks and briefs, he beckoned you over to his lap. You kneeled somewhat awkwardly on the bed to hover on his lap, cunt dripping arousal on his belly as you did so. He groaned, the dominant facade faltering for a moment. He had to be the most indulgent dominant man ever, because he was barely able to resist you and your seducing ways. "See how wet you make me?" You whispered, eyes focused on his, which looked directly at the sheer liquid pooling on his stomach.

"You're such a good girl, baby" in a weakened voice made its way out of his mouth. "Since you asked so nicely and you have proof, why don't you show me how much you love riding me, huh? Come on, pretty, sit on my cock. Ride me." His commanding sentences made your cunt gush yet again.

"Yes, sir!" you exclaimed, ready to obey his commands.

Spencer gripped his base and rubbed his dick against your folds. He groaned, biting his lip and it took every single ounce of self control not to kiss him senseless. After some more teasing, he muttered, "You can do it now."

You sat down on him, slowly, pushing the tip in. "Fuck," hoarse voice, just the way he loved it, "you feel so good, sir. And you're not even fully in yet."

"Come on, nice and slow, princess."

You sank a little further, his girth stretching you out so deliciously that it made you shut your eyes closed as goosebumps erupted on your skin, pure bliss running through you. "Fuck—ah— you're so, so hard, sir," you hissed.

"Yes, that's it," he grabbed your hands in one of his. He felt you clench around him. "Gonna make sure you get off on my cock alone."

Recalling his demand, you obeyed. Nice and slow, savoring the feeling of having him buried to the hilt inside of you. each time you pulled back just to slam his dick inside again made you feel dizzy. Spencer was mesmerized by the sight before him. First, your expression told him how much you enjoyed riding him, mouth agape to let out the dirtiest moans and words, unlike the poised woman he liked to brag about to whoever listened. "Fuck, you're so deep. 's so good, love it when you let me ride you, sir."

Spencer kept silent for a moment, still admiring your form. He watched as the hair on your skin shivered each time he started to meet your thrusts, eager to make you his. his eyes drifted to your breasts, bouncing with every movement of your bodies. It was wanton, watching you get off on top of him, using him to chase your own high, but the sight that got him enthralled was your pussy making his cock glisten with your arousal. "Yeah, pretty? So what do you say? D'you remember you have to be nice?"

"Thank you, sir"

"Thank you for what?" he urged.

“Thank you for letting me sit on your cock,"

"That's right. You're taking me so well, princess, fucking hell," he cursed. "Such a tight cunt, so perfect for me."

"I'm all yours, sir! Yours."

"That's right. You're taking me so well, princess, fucking hell," he cursed. "Such a tight cunt, so perfect for me."

At this point, Spencer was a goner below you. You rocked your hips and he met you thrusts ruthlessly, focused on chasing your high. You slowed your movements, clit grinding against his pubic bone, dick still rock hard inside of you. You felt the telling signs of your orgasm approaching and, mind filled with thoughts of all the filth you've done with him. You still wanted to do much more. "Fuck, pretty girl—you're so good at taking me."

You leaned down to whisper in his ear, your tits brushing against his skin adding to the whirlwind of sensations. "Can I come, sir? Please! I want to come all over your cock," all your sentences sounded like heavenly, pathetic whines to Spencer's ears.

"You hafta take it, princess," he groaned, hands guiding your movements. "Take. It." He urged, words emphasized by two particularly hard thrusts. “Wanna come inside of you.”

"Yes, please! I'm all yours—Spencer!" You yelled out his name as your orgasm washed over you, still grinding against him.

The sound of his name leaving your lips was enough to follow you not shortly after. “Gonna come—fuck—inside you.” He gritted. After spilling inside you, he kept fucking his cum back inside with a few sloppier thrusts.

You crashed beside him, taking a minute to catch your breath. Spencer quickly reached to undo his tie on your wrists, kissing the soft skin after removing the garment. You chuckled at his care. “Don't ever stop me from touching you again,” you muttered.

“What are you going to do, angel? Stop me?” He laughed softly.

He cleaned you both up and you had your hands free to caress your boyfriend’s skin all night long.

The next morning, Spencer had you on the phone as he walked in the bullpen, saying “yes”, “of course”, and a series of different agreements, gleeful expression on his face.

He heard Derek Morgan chuckle. "Aw, Reid, she already telling you what to do?"

"There's no time for her to start, you know that, Derek," Emily quipped.

They had no idea you were telling him about the wet dream you had about him fucking you in the middle of the bullpen.

[mrsq8geek]

I think about this every now and then so here's what I got on this:

Social constructs often are based on things that are either unchangable or very difficult to change. The 24 hour system is a social construct but it's based on something measurable and that varies so little that, for most intents and purposes, it's practically static. Kind of related. Another example: Farming, hunting, or fishing have similar cultures across the world, because we all gotta eat so we learn what exists in the world and how to turn it into food. Fried ball of dough across the world! Seafaring culture shanties (and also work songs) my beloved.

Uncertainty and risk associated with change. People generally agree that the four-day work-week would be better for... well, most things, including productivity, than five days, given how much the world has changed. But even with so many companies and sometimes countries coming out of trials with positive results, it's a slow change, often because a lot of decision-makers would rather stick with what they know, or maybe they want to proceed with a change, but don't know which option to go with. Take this and bog it down with all the details of humanity. The potential loss of the tried-and-true usefulness/benefits of the existing system can easily outweigh the cost and risk of changing to something new.

The inherent tension between standardization and specialization. ISO is a boon. Forcing the peoples you conquer to adopt your way of life has resulted in countless losses, some of which have not been recovered, and others which we're now paying for. Also, I'll use any excuse to bring up this episode of 99% Invisible. Different cultures live in different material realities, which creates different specialized social constructs suited to that place, which inevitably clashes with whoever the superior culture at the time thinks is Best, and so on as we trend towards globalized homogeneity.

You can't have it all. There will come a time where you will have to choose one social construct and its associated consequences over another. And what you value as important will affect that greatly: after you after happiness? Meaning? Contentment? What if you're after compliance with your group? Socioeconomic power? Sometimes there will be social consensus that you did the Right Thing and sometimes not, what then?

That being said, I definitely get the knee-jerk reaction to think "social construct = fake = bad" because when someone says "x is a social construct", it's often in the context of how that construct can change, and that's a threat. For some people, it's as simple as "change is hard and scary", but you might end up having a nice conversation after that. Other times, it'll be "you want to change something that I personally benefit from" and that's more difficult to pick apart.

Personally, I'm not a fan of "most work happens in the morning", the choice of jobs available in the afternoon/evening is very limited and I'm always struggling. Someone convince morning people that night owls are important, too!

man. People get so upset when you call things social constructs. Thinking that if you say something is a social construct that means it's fake and unnatural, and following that, that that means it’s bad. Something being a social construct means that it’s socially constructed. That’s it.

Money is a social construct. Weekends are a social construct. Vegetables are a social construct.

That doesn’t mean it’s okay if my paycheck is withheld or my rent is late. Doesn’t mean I don’t luxuriate in sleeping in on Saturday. Doesn’t mean the nutrients in tomatoes or spinach aren’t good for you.

What it means is that the way we think about things is socially constructed, and could be constructed a different way. Why do we base our society around money? What does value mean outside of money? What is “value”? The way we construct it isn’t the only possible way.

Why is a week a cycle of seven days, and five of those days are for working and two of those days are for resting? Could we organize our time differently? Should we? What would that look like? Other cultures don’t/didn’t have seven-day weeks with a five on-two off cycle. It’s not inevitable. It’s historically and culturally specific.

“Fruit” has a scientific definition but “vegetable” does not. Many parts of plants are culinarily defined as vegetables. Fruits (eggplant, avocado, tomato), stems (celery, asparagus), leaves (kale, lettuce), roots (carrots, potatoes, turnips)… all of these are culturally categorized as vegetables. And nutrition advice is based on this cultural categorization. Is a mushroom a vegetable? It’s not even a plant! Why do we categorize it this way? Why isn’t wheat or oats considered vegetables, but corn is, except when it isn’t? Could we categorize our plant-based food other ways?

Calling these social constructs doesn’t mean they’re bad or unimportant. It just calls attention to the fact that they aren’t inevitable. That they could be constructed in different ways, and that is worth thinking about, and thinking about the value we get in constructing things the way we do.

Gender is a social construct.

Romance is a social construct.

They are based on feelings, desires, and experiences, but how we name and categorize and express and act on them are fully culturally constructed. Other cultures do and have constructed these concepts in other ways. You can like the way we do it now. You can find it stifling. But the way we do it now is not the only, inevitable, inherent, real way. It could be done other ways, organized and categorized and conceptualized in other ways. And that’s not a bad thing either.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Please could you write more Caitlyn (arcane) x Reader?!? Omg I loved that fic, but Idk if you still wrote for arcane

Social Events

|| Caitlyn Kiramman x fem!reader

|| Warnings; smut, swearing, drunk sex, top Caitlyn & bottom reader, reader receiving, breast play, fingering, praise kink, orgasm, finger sucking, good girl use

|| Summary; when reader and Caitlyn meet at a social event, things get heated pretty quickly. With the help of a few drinks.

Requests closed!

Started; November 11th

Finished; November 11th

~~~

Social events. They were never really your favourite, but you had to represent your family. Being the eldest daughter and all. For the wealthy, it was pretty common for them to have gatherings and socials. Just keeping up to date in each other's business. Because the upper classes of Piltover didn't know how to stay out of each other's shit. You tried your best to keep to yourself, occasionally engaging in conversation when someone would approach you. Or the rare time you found someone interesting enough to talk to.

There was one girl whose eyes you kept meeting. Every time you did, she would send you a smile. God, she was stunning. You couldn't keep your eyes away from her. It wasn't often you found someone interesting enough to just stare at them. Like some weirdo. But you couldn't help it with this girl. You thought you recognized her, Cassandra Kiramman's daughter maybe? That was your guess. Though you weren't 100% sure.

Well, no time like the present. You decided to walk over and try and start conversation. Maybe flirt a bit if you were lucky. "Hey, Cassandra's daughter, right?" You asked, silently praying you weren't wrong in your assumption. Otherwise that would make this incredibly awkward.

The girl nodded," It's Caitlyn. But, yes." Caitlyn held her hand out to you and you gave it a gentle shake. The smile never leaving your lips when you heard her talk. Damn, that accent was going to be the absolute death of you.

"Y/N L/N." You introduced yourself go her and Caitlyn raised a curious eyebrow. You were part of the L/N Household? She's heard many things about your family. Your family was more wealthy than her own, it would've been nearly impossible to have not heard your name before.

"Is that so?" Caitlyn looks at you with new found interest. Before, when your eyes kept meeting hers she thought she'd recognized you. Somewhere, somehow but she couldn't put her finger on it. Now Caitlyn knew why. She's always been rather found of you from a distance, your morals were something she could agree with. That was getting rare in Piltover. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Likewise." You replied. After that, conversation between you and her flowed easily. As did the drinks. And before you knew it, Caitlyn was pulling you away from the social event. Not that you had any complaints, of course.

Caitlyn got you to her room, where she then closed the door before pushing you up against it. You grunted as you felt the wood suddenly behind you. Smirking as you met her eyes once more. Caitlyn looked into your own for a brief moment, before her lips were on yours. Hand cupping your cheek and bringing you impossibly closer. You kissed back with ease, as though you'd kissed her a million times before.

When her lips left yours, she bit your bottom lip. Getting a small sound of you. Your hand then intertwined with hers and Caitlyn pulled you over to her bed. Pushing you into the sheets as she got on top of you. Your hands went to her hips, pulling her down until she straddled you. Caitlyn laid herself across your body. Kissing at your neck as she worked to get your top off. You tilted your head to the side, giving her more access to your neck. She placed one hickie, then another before pulling your top over your head.

Caitlyn took a moment to just admire your breasts. Then her lips latched the nipple, sucking and rolling it between her teeth. With every suck, a moan left your lips. Your back arched into her touch as her hand slid down your stomach slowly. Brushing against your abdomen with her thumb while her hand moved aside the rim of your pants. Slipping through and past your underwear. Your breath hitched as you felt her graze your clit, smirking against your skin. Caitlyn let go of your breast with a pop, a small gasp leaving your lips.

"F-fuck-" You muttered when her fingers applied gentle pressure to your clit. Rubbing and rolling it between her fingers in a soft massage. Your head fell back against her pillows and all you could do was moan when she pushed a finger in you.

She certainly didn't go easy on you. The moment Caitlyn knew you'd adjusted, she added in a couple more fingers. Pumping relentlessly until your stomach twisted in knots. Your moans got louder, back arching further into her touch. Trying to get more. Fuck, more.

"You're doing so good," Caitlyn whispered, but loud enough for you to hear her over your moans. Your leg twitched and flicked, nearly kicking her. Your grip on the sheets tightened. She just laughed at that and held your leg down. "Shh, just relax your body."

That was it. The extra touch on you. You were already sensitive as it was with how hard she was fingering you. You cummed on her fingers, practically screaming out.

"Ah- Caitlyn- fuck!" You screamed her name as she helped you through your high. When you finished, she slowly pulled her fingers out and into your mouth. You happily sucked them, looking into her eyes as she gave you an encouraging nod.

"Good girl." She murmured. Fuck, you hoped that wasn't the end of it.

Thankfully, it seemed to only be the beginning.

[aeth-eris]

★ dark truth of the planets in the 12th house ★

★ sun in the 12th house feels like a life spent unseen. people with this placement often grow up feeling like they’re destined to exist in someone else’s shadow, never really finding their place in the world. they learn to hide their light, terrified of showing who they really are, afraid that if they did, they’d be rejected or forgotten anyway. every attempt to be noticed feels like it falls flat, and so they retreat, choosing to be invisible rather than risk the pain of invisibility. this placement creates a quiet ache, a life spent watching others live fully, wondering if they’ll ever be allowed to step out of the shadows. ★

★ moon in the 12th house is like a heart locked away, buried so deep that even they can’t reach it sometimes. people with this placement feel emotions so vast, so all-consuming, but they have no safe space to share them. they may spend their lives aching for comfort, for someone to understand, yet feeling that they’ll be crushed under the weight of their own emotions. they cry alone, in silence, their pain invisible to the world. this placement often makes them feel like they’re drowning in emotions they can never express, longing for a release that never seems to come. ★

★ mercury in the 12th house often leaves people feeling voiceless. there’s so much they want to say, so much they want to express, but words feel just out of reach. every attempt to share their thoughts feels like fumbling in the dark, tripping over silence and misunderstanding. they’re plagued by doubts, haunted by thoughts they can’t escape but can’t articulate. this placement leaves them feeling isolated, watching conversations from the outside, yearning to connect but forever feeling unheard, as though their mind is trapped behind glass. ★

★ venus in the 12th house knows what it’s like to love in silence, to ache for a connection that must stay hidden. people with this placement often fall in love with people they can’t have, or they love quietly, without hope of reciprocation. they know the pain of unspoken words, of yearning for someone who barely knows they exist. they give and give, always hoping, always waiting, but they’re often left in the cold, their love unseen and unacknowledged. this placement teaches them the loneliness of love, the ache of wanting someone they can never fully reach. ★

★ mars in the 12th house feels like a fire that’s forever dampened, a spark that’s always smothered before it can catch. they may spend their lives feeling frustrated, knowing they have so much passion, so much drive, but never finding the courage to bring it to life. every step they take feels tentative, as though they’re afraid of their own power, terrified of the anger that simmers just beneath the surface. they often feel like they’re fighting a silent battle, wrestling with an enemy they can’t see, their own strength a distant, unreachable dream. ★

★ jupiter in the 12th house is the quiet ache of lost potential, the sense that they’re destined for something more, something grand, yet they’re always held back by invisible chains. they may feel cursed with bad luck, as though every opportunity slips through their fingers just as they’re about to grasp it. they yearn for meaning, for purpose, but are often left feeling empty, their dreams just out of reach. this placement fills them with an aching loneliness, a silent grief for the life they feel they should be living but can never quite attain. ★

★ saturn in the 12th house is a lifetime of bearing burdens no one else can see, a quiet, relentless weight that presses down on them. they live with a sense of responsibility they can’t shake, often feeling as though they’re atoning for sins they don’t even remember committing. every moment is shadowed by guilt or regret, a haunting feeling that they’re never good enough, never strong enough. they’re alone in their suffering, burdened by fears that no one else can understand, and they may spend their lives trapped in self-imposed isolation, afraid to let anyone see the depth of their pain. ★

★ uranus in the 12th house is the constant, gnawing feeling of being misunderstood, of being a stranger in a world that will never truly accept them. they often feel like an outsider, always on the fringe, watching life pass by in a blur of rules and routines that suffocate them. they yearn for freedom, for a life that feels authentic, yet every attempt to break free leaves them feeling more isolated, more lost. they’re haunted by a restlessness that won’t go away, a desire to belong yet knowing they’ll never fit in. ★

★ neptune in the 12th house is a soul that’s always slipping away, a life lived in the shadows of dreams and illusions. people with this placement often feel like they’re drowning in a sea of emotions and fantasies, unable to grasp onto anything solid. reality feels harsh, unforgiving, and so they retreat into their own world, drifting through life in a haze. they ache for connection, for clarity, yet they’re haunted by an endless fog, a sense of loneliness that’s too deep to articulate. this placement brings an endless yearning for something just out of reach, a longing for escape that’s never fully satisfied. ★

★ pluto in the 12th house is like carrying a dark, unspoken weight, a lifetime haunted by shadows and fears they can’t explain. they often feel as though they’re hiding something from themselves, as though there’s a darkness lurking within that they’re terrified to confront. they may carry unresolved trauma, past-life memories, or a deep sense of dread that follows them like a shadow. this placement can leave them feeling haunted, trapped in a cycle of self-destruction and rebirth, unable to break free from the patterns that control them. the only way out is through, but the journey feels endless, the darkness too overwhelming. ★

★ chiron in the 12th house is a wound that refuses to heal, a pain that feels eternal. people with this placement often feel cursed with a suffering they can’t explain, as though they’re carrying the pain of generations past. they may feel like they’re destined to suffer in silence, to bear a burden no one else can understand. every step forward feels like it’s met with resistance, every attempt to heal only brings them closer to the depths of their own pain. this placement is a lifetime of learning to make peace with suffering, to find strength in vulnerability, even when the world feels like it’s crumbling around them. ★

[pitchsidestories]

together II Ewa Pajor x Lewandowski!Reader

masterlist I word count: 2924

a/n: dear readers, this is an angstier oneshot, so only read it when you're in the right headspace for a heavier story, take care. Little reminder that your feedback is always appreciated. 🫶🏻 🫶🏻

warnings: swearing, hints to an abusive relationship in reader's past

“Y/n? Is the dinner done? I don’t smell anything. Y/n?! You useless piece of shit.”

His curses and insults echoed around your flat in Warsaw. In a city that had to be almost completely rebuilt after the end of the Second World War, including the historic city centre, his world collapsed. 

Your husband was horrified to discover that all your things were gone except for your wedding ring and a farewell letter, including the divorce papers, which you had left for him on the dining table.

With hands shaking with anger, he read what you had written.

Like your hometown, you would put your heart, which had shattered into many fragmented pieces, back together again and hopefully become happier than you were now. You had had enough of him, his unruliness and his violence, the man who convinced you that you weren't good enough, even though you had always been enough.

It was just a lie to keep you down, but that was over now.

It almost felt unreal for you to sit many kilometres away from your former husband in the guestroom of your brother’s grand house in Barcelona in front of a huge mirror.

In the reflection you could see said sibling stomp impatiently his feet. “Can you hurry up now?! I don’t have all night.”

“Just a second.”, you chuckled, applying your lipstick only fuelling the older man’s impatience.

“Ugh.”, Robert rolled his eyes.

“Now we can go, idiot.”, you told him smirking.

“Excuse me? You wouldn’t even be going without this impatient idiot.”, he protested, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yes, and you wouldn’t even have a female plus one at your side because all your girls are sick.”, you reminded him, playfully hitting his upper arm with your purse.

“I’d rather not have that plus one be my own sister.”, the striker teased, rubbing the place you had hit before softly, pretending it hurt.

“Rude. I can stay here if you prefer that.”, you offered.

“No.”, the dark-haired man stated firmly.

“Let’s get it over with, shall we?”, you linked arms with your brother.

“Please.”, Robert sighed.

At the event which the Catalan club has initiated you were stunned by the amount of people attended it. Especially when your sibling had claimed that this was only the men and women’s football team.

“Wow, there are a lot of people here.”, you observed.

“Surprise?”, Robert smiled amusedly.

 “Well, it’s a bit intimidating.”, you admitted nervously.

“Don’t pee yourself.”, he joked.

“Shut it. My husband is scarier than this.”, you replied, a cold shiver ran down your spine at the thought of him.

“Don’t bring him up right now.”, the striker begged. He planned the evening to be a distraction for you.

Catching the sight of something you changed the topic quickly. “Come on, time to see what the buffet has to offer.”  

You dragged your bother along with you towards the food. While you studied all the different dishes, you completely missed that someone had approached your brother in the meantime.

“Oh hi.“, you heard a female voice say which caused you to look up immediately.

“Hi Ewa, great to see you again. Anything that caught your eye?”, your brother asked politely.

You frowned as you silently followed the conversation.

“The paella looks nice but oh man do I miss homemade pierogi.“, the woman smiled.

You might have been wrong but you were sure there was a slight sadness in her smile.

“Oh me too. But luckily my sister is here.“, Robert laughed, pointing towards you.

Your eyes widened, surprised that he pulled you into this conversation when all you wanted to do was grab some food.

“That gorgeous woman next to you is your sister?”, the woman that Robert introduced as Ewa exclaimed. She immediately blushed, seemingly shocked that the words had actually left her mouth.

Robert grimaced: “Yes?”

“Wow.“

You chuckled. It wasn’t everyday that people reacted that way upon meeting you. “Just to clarify, I can do more than cook pierogi and look pretty.“

“That’s impressive.“, Ewa laughed.

Robert interrupted the two of you: “Please, you’re quite impressive yourself, Ewa. I heard you’re already making a name for yourself at Barca femeni.“

She shyly tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear: “Well, I did score a few goals.“

“You did? That’s amazing.“, you commented, suddenly intrigued.

“Uhm yes.“

“Did you find it easy to settle in Barcelona?”, you asked.

Another smile flashed across her face: “Actually yes. With the help of my team mates.“

“Sounds like a perfect start.“

“It was.“

“My sister is new here too, you know.“, Robert said suddenly and you could tell from the look on his face that he was planning something.

Ewas face turned to him with curiosity: “She isn’t just here to visit?”

“No, she’ll stay here for a while actually.“, he confirmed, clearly suppressing a smirk.

“Oh great. I could show you some coffee shops. That’s what my teammates did too when I moved here.“, she suggested.

You tilted your head at her, studying her face: “You would?”

She nodded: “Sure, if you’re interested.“

“Yes, I love coffee.“

“Me too.“

There was a second of silence, just the two of you smiling at each other. Robert and the food faded into the background.

“Maybe we should exchange numbers so you can text me when you’re free?”, you suggested once your brain was no longer preoccupied with staring at her.

“Sure.“ She quickly pulled her phone from her pocket and offered it to you to type in your number. Right in time because she was quickly surrounded by her own teammates while your brother pulled you along to introduce you to too many people.

You had already forgotten their names when you got into the cab taking you back to your brothers house.

“Ewa and you…“, Robert said into the silence of the car.

You blinked at him innocently, playing dumb: “What about us?”

“You got a along well.”, he noted.

“Ewa’s very nice.”, you tried to brush his observation off.

“Nice?”, your brother raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”, you replied, trying to hide your blushed cheek with one hand, so Robert couldn’t see it. For your sibling you always have been an open book. Even in your darkest time when you tried to conceal how you really felt he saw right through your emotionless façade.

“I see.”, the striker smirked knowingly.

“You see what?”, you wanted to know in a curious tone.

“Oh nothing.”, your brother waved it off.

“Robert.”

“No.” After a pause the football player added smiling. “But she’s nice.”

“Yes, and she called me gorgeous.”, you remembered fondly.

“Of course you liked that.”, Robert said.

“I haven’t been called that for a while so yes it felt nice.”, you admitted. Unpleasant pictures you wish you could erase from your memory came back to the surface.

“You know what I think about your husband.”, your sibling hissed, his jaw tightened while he parked the car in front of the unlit house.

 “I left him this time.. I’m not going back.”, you assured him. With a heavy heart you revealed the fading bruise around your neck to him.

When you closed your eyes, it brought you straight to the moment he did it, the second you thought you wouldn’t make it out here alive, luckily, he had to leave for his job and a good friend of yours helped you out of this situation. Bitterly you thought to yourself that not everyone had as much luck as you.

“He did it again?”, Robert asked, feeling the hot anger rise in him whilst he spoke.  

“Yes.”, you confirmed quietly. Suddenly you were very tired from the day you experienced.

“And of course you’re not going back. I warned him the first time.”, he went on.

Once you stood in front of the guestroom door you turned your head around to face your brother. “Good night, Robbie.”

“Try to get some sleep.”, the footballer answered gently.

“You should too.”, you wore a sad smile on your lips before entering the generous bedroom where the scent of freshly washed linen filled up your nose and immediately calmed you down for the night.

A childish hope in you sparked that this might keep the bad nightmares at bay. Although you knew better than that.

You escaped the danger in person of your former husband and yet it would take some time to release the fear which has crept into your everyday life. Like your nieces when they were younger you would take baby steps to get your old confident self-back.

The nightstand lamp was on as you replayed the conversation with Ewa in your mind. You loved the way her catlike eyes lit up with excitement as she talked about the club, her teammates, the city and her love for the polish dish. It was the last thing you saw behind your eyes before you fell asleep.

Ewa was about to leave the Barcelona training grounds the next day, freshly showered and in clothes that took her hours to pick out.

With her bag in one hand, she waved goodbye to her teammates: “Sorry girls, I got to go. I’m meeting up with someone.“

Kika stopped walking next to her with a frown: “What? With who?”

“With a beautiful woman.“, Ewa admitted quietly, blushing slightly. Her skin prickled as if she had said something forbidden.

Ellie smiled at her with genuine happiness: “A date?”

“Uhm… well, I don’t know… Lewy might kill me if I’d ask her on a date.“

“Lewy?”, Kika echoed.

“Lewy as in Robert Lewandowski. He’s her brother.“, Ewa explained.

A quiet “Oh…“ escaped Kikas lips.

Ewa nodded in agreement to whatever was going through Kikas head: “Yes, exactly.“

“I think it’s worth a try.“, Ellie shrugged.

“You think so? Oh shit, I really got to go now. Otherwise I will be late.“, Ewa realized with a look at the clock on her phone screen. She hadn’t noticed how long they were standing in front of the gate talking.

She waved one last time and left.

“Have fun!”, Ellie called after her.

You were already waiting in front of the small café when Ewa arrived. She was three minutes late but smiling brightly as she caught sight of you.

“Ewa, hi.“, you greeted her and pulled her in for a quick hug.

“Hi.“

“Great to see you again.“, you said as you took her in. She looked cute in her jeans and a little cardigan. Her hair was still lightly wet and smelled like roses.

“Good to see you too.“

With all pleasantries exchanged, you walked inside the coffeeshop and straight towards the counter. Turning towards Ewa, you asked: “What coffee can I get for you?”

“A cappuccino please.“, she replied politely, appearing positively surprised by the fact that you wanted to order for her.

“Okay.“ You gave her a nod and turned back to the barista while she took a seat at a table close to the window.

You took the spot across from her, with two coffees in hand and slid one over to her: “Here you go.“

“Thank you.“, she smiled at you gratefully and took a sip.

“You’re welcome.“

You both sat there in silence for a moment, just enjoying your coffee and a little unsure about what to do next.

“So? How’s Barcelona?”, Ewa asked suddenly.

“I love it so far.“, you answered truthfully. Even though your brother was always busy, he had taken some time out of his day to show you around and you immediately understood why he never wanted to leave again.

Ewa nodded understandingly: “It’s pretty nice, right?”

“Yes, the weather is perfect.”, you replied.

“Yeah, I like that the most too.”, the forward admitted with a huge smile on her lips.

“Besides the football I guess.”, you mused.

“That’s pretty nice too.”, she admitted, one hand placed to her heated cheek.

“Maybe I should see you play at some point.”, you thought out loud, realizing her blush only intensified under your gaze.  

“You’re always welcome at our games.”, Ewa remarked happily.

“That’s sweet of you.”, you muttered immensely grateful for her kindness and open-mindedness.

“I mean it. We’re always glad to have some spectators.”, she added beaming.

“I’ll be coming. Promise.”, you assured her.

“But you don’t have to.”, the striker ran nervously a hand through her now fully dried hair.

“I want to go though.”, you stated.

“Okay, of course.”, she cleared her throat.

“Of course? You still sound surprised.”, you lifted an eyebrow.

“No, I uhm… I just can’t wait for you to come and watch us.”, Ewa confessed.

“When’s your next home game?”, you asked.

“Saturday. I can get you a ticket if you’d like.”, the football player offered.

“Yes, please.”, you affirmed delighted.

“I’m taking care of it.”, she hummed.

“Thank you.”

 “No, thank you for wanting to come.”, the Polish women’s national team captain waved it off.

Agreeing to this almost felt forbidden, the glances you had exchanged with her during the coffee shop felt unholy.

Back in your home country you rarely saw this intimacy between two women, even if it was only in their eyes.

Here in Barcelona, you noticed that female couples were holding hands as they walked by like they weren’t afraid of other people seeing that. You admired their bravery.

Maybe Ewa was a bit shy, still the striker made clear that she very much wanted to see you again.

 On Saturday the banter was on a high in the team’s changing room.

“So, she’s coming to our game today?”, Kika wiggled her dark eyebrows.

“She’s.”, Ewa confirmed.

“And you both like each other.”, Ellie observed smirking.

“Maybe we do.” A nervous laughter came from the Polish striker’s mouth.

You had seen enough football games in your lifetime to recognize that Ewa was a fantastic player. Amazed, you watched the woman and her team play.

After the match was officially over, she immediately went to find you in the stands, still a little out of breath she turned up in front of you.

“Ewa, fantastic came.”, you congratulated her.

“Thank you.”, Ewa grinned.

“I loved watching it.”, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

The football players eyes softened slightly: “You did?”

“Yes… also on your free day I’ve my brothers home to myself so you could come over to try my pierogi.“, you suggested, trying to sound as casual as possible and not like you persuaded your brother to help with your plan.

“You will make us pierogi?”, Ewa asked excitedly.

“Jep.“, you confirmed with a single nod which caused the football player to beam at you.

You could get used to that face.

A few days later, you welcomed Ewa into your brothers luxurious house. With your clothes already covered in flour, you led her to the unnecessarily huge kitchen where you had already started preparing the polish dumplings.

Once the first serving was done, you turned to Ewa who watched with careful eyes as you filled and closed the edges of the dough: “Do you want to try them?”

She nodded: “Yes please.“

You plated a few with melted butter and a dab of sour cream on the side and pushed the plate towards Ewa.

She took a bite, chewing with her eyes closed.

“And? What do you think of them?”, you asked curiously.

“Wow. They’re so good. They almost taste like the ones at home.“, the football player confirmed.

You blushed slightly. You knew everyone made theirs a bit differently so to hear they tasted like home was one of the biggest compliments you could get.

“They’re amazing.“

“Just like you.“ You paused, horrified. You didn’t know why you had said that. “Shit, I mean…“

“You mean?”, Ewa repeated, trying to coax you into explaining.

“Please forget it… I never said that to a woman. Maybe I only thought it back in Poland.“

An icy shiver ran down your spine, thinking about the situation back at home where even the thought felt forbidden.

You suddenly felt Ewas hand on yours, her thumb gently rubbing over the back of your hand: “Hey, you can say that here. I feel the same way about you.“

“But you don’t know me… not fully yet. My hus-… ex-husband, the thought I was worthless.“

Your eyes met across the table. Neither of you pulled her hand back.

“I don’t have to know what he thought about you. I only care about what I know about you.“, Ewa said, her voice was soft and quiet but she sounded sure about it.

“And what do you know?”

The corners of her mouth quirked up slightly: “That you’re very sweet and I like you lot.“

Biting your lip, you admitted: “I think the same about you to be honest…“

“See, we want the same thing.“

“Looks like we do.“

“Would it be okay if I…?”

“Yes.“, you replied before she even finished her question but from the way her gaze lowered towards your lips, you knew what she was about to ask.

“Yes?”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt you.“

She frowned: “You didn’t even know what I wanted to say.”

“Please, go on.“

“Would it be okay if I kissed you right now?”, Ewa finally finished her question.

You nodded with a smile: “Very okay.“

She leaned over the counter to you and kissed you. It was gentle, warm and comforting like the pierogi that lay forgotten in front of you. It had been a long time since anything had felt so right.

[wolvietxt]

𝓭aryl 𝓭ixon…

with a FAT crush on reader

pairing : daryl dixon x reader warnings : fluff, headcannons, confession, jealousy, budding relationship au, painfully awkward :3 wc : ~600

❀ daryl often finds himself stealing glances at you, unable to look away when you’re talking to others or just being yourself. whenever you catch him, he quickly looks away, his cheeks heating up.

❀ when you’re nearby, daryl tends to trip over his words. he might start to say something casual, only to forget what he wanted to say altogether, leaving you confused while he awkwardly shifts his gaze.

❀ he feels a pang of jealousy whenever he sees you laughing or chatting with someone else, even if it’s just a friendly conversation. he’ll huff under his breath, trying to hide how bothered he is, even though he knows it’s silly.

❀ if he manages to give you a compliment, it comes out as a jumble of awkwardness. he might say something like, “you look nice today. really nice. not that you don’t always look nice, but…” and then trails off, flustered.

❀ daryl often finds himself going out of his way to help you, whether it’s fixing something around the camp or sharing some of his hunting spoils. he takes pride in being useful to you, hoping you notice his efforts.

❀ he’ll tease you lightly but affectionately, using humour to mask his feelings. if you’re frustrated with something, he might say, “you can’t be that mad. you’re too cute for that,” which makes you roll your eyes, but he’s secretly pleased when you laugh.

❀ when you’re injured or upset, daryl is quick to offer comfort, often in the form of silence rather than words. he’ll sit beside you, his presence calming, and might even offer a hand to hold, hoping you know he’s there for you.

❀ he remembers little details about you that others might overlook, like your favourite snacks or books. if he finds something that reminds him of you, he’ll make a mental note to bring it up later, wanting to connect with you on a deeper level.

❀ in private moments, he lets his guard down a bit, showing you his softer side. he might share stories from his past or express vulnerabilities, hoping to build trust and deepen your bond, even if he struggles to put his feelings into words.

❀ he shows his affection through little gifts he picks up during runs. he might bring you a pretty stone or a small trinket he found, trying to act nonchalant about it, even though his heart races when you smile in appreciation.

❀ daryl feels protective over you, always watching your back and making sure you’re safe. when you’re in danger or upset, he can’t help but step in, often saying something gruff but caring.

❀ he gets nervous when you touch him, whether it’s a casual brush of your hand or a comforting hug. he’ll freeze for a moment, unsure of how to react, but inside, he’s a flurry of emotions.

❀ when you talk about your interests or passions, he listens intently, even if he doesn’t fully understand. he loves hearing you speak, and he admires your passion, even if he can’t express it well.

❀ the longer he keeps his feelings to himself, the more he worries about losing you. he often thinks about what might happen if you found someone else, which makes him realise just how much he cares for you.

❀ eventually, in a moment of vulnerability, he might finally admit his feelings, saying something like, “i’ve liked you for a while, you know?” his voice is quiet, but the sincerity is clear, and he hopes you feel the same way.

[bouquetface]

Navamsa Notes D9 6

Accuracy is influenced by the ENTIRE natal and navamsa. A FEW indicators does not promise one outcome especially when we have not taken into consideration the aspects.

☀️ Venus in Capricorn or Aqua is one indicator for a long-lasting marriage in d9. This is because this gives a Saturn ruled Venus. Venus & Saturn are friendly planets to one another. Saturn will generally support Venus in the pursuit of love. When paired with a chart that has many divorce indicators, this will indicate a long marriage before separating.

☀️ Moon trine Saturn is another indicator of a long-lasting marriage. This shows the spouse is unlikely to be moody and unstable. They are mature, they are patient, they make careful choices with a balance between logic and emotions. Stronger placements in the navamsa could indicate otherwise. This is only one aspect.

☀️ Saturn 8 away from Venus indicates troubles in sex life at some point in your marriage.

☀️ Venus square Saturn is another indicator of a dissatisfying romantic and/or intimate life being an issue. This aspect indicates it is likely due to the wife. She can be/become moody. At times, she will be cold, uncommunicative and distant. This will create frustrations and misunderstandings in the marriage at some point.

☀️ Mars sqaure Saturn is another indicator for troubles in intimate life. You or the spouse will feel dissatisfied with sex life at some point. These aren't breakup or cheating indicator. How this situation is resolved and if it is resolved depends on the entire chart.

☀️ Earth asc in natal to Pisces asc in navamsa:

If you have an earth rising in natal, your mindset is changing from logical and analytical to emotional over time. You are still a virgo asc but after marriage/later in life, you begin to lean toward thinking with your heart instead of your mind.

After marriage/later in life, you ease up on the rules and expectations you have for yourself and others. You become more compassionate. You can become a very generous and kind person.

A lot of this will be influenced based on aspects and where mercury and jupiter are in both charts.

☀️ General info on Pisces asc:

If your natal and d9 do not have many or major malefic placements in regard to marriage, this shows a harmonious marriage. A deep bond between the person and the spouse. Mutual love and respect for what the other does for the marriage/family. Effective communication - listening before speaking, thoughtful responses - unless other placed indicate otherwise.

This asc brings you to the depth of your emotions. You can feel the spouse is so perfect and that you are unworthy. You may have to deal with these types of inner issues, figure out the root - did it begin in childhood? is it because of how you view yourself? - A person with pisces D9 can heal themselves through marriage/later in life. Now if you have divorce indicators in natal and D9, the breakdown of the marriage can lead you to heal yourself.

Pisces ASC can have others view their married life as ideal. Specifically, you can shock your family in a nice way through the partner. The marriage can boost or restore your reputation among people.

In certain incidents, other's being surprised is because they feel you are unworthy or incapable of being in a happy lasting marriage. When it is your family feeling this way, a common thing with pisces asc in D9 is that their family made the native as kid feel like they're not enough/there is something wrong or bad about them/they're not loveable.

Your social network can become very formal and professional - mainly coworkers or people to help boost your career/status. Formal interactions rather than genuine jokes and conversation. You can have limited contact with close/true friends or simply you don't have close/true friends later in life.

☀️ Earth rising in natal to Aries asc in navamsa

You and/or the spouse marry because they seek a new beginning. They want a new start in life with a foundation that can count on. They want to feel secure and comfortable with this foundation.

☀️ General info on Aries asc

This is one indicator for marrying quickly. Either you marry within 1-3 years of meeting or you marry soon after proposal - not much planning goes into the wedding. Mars conjunct Venus in natal or navamsa is another indicator. However, accuracy still depends on the entire chart - other aspects & placements can slow this down.

☀️ Venus in Cap 10th House

This indicates an older spouse. This shows married life will bring unexpected responsibilities. The marriage makes you or the spouse feel lonely. This can manifest in various ways depending on the entire chart. for ex: the spouse is much older, they die much sooner than you do, you are literally left alone for years. OR if you have many malefic placements, the marriage becomes emotionally lonely and dissatisfying, the spouse leaves, you are lonely.

This shows the spouse will have leadership traits. They will be hardworking and career/status-driven.

Your relationship with your father will be distant. He may die early on, or you simply have never been close with him.

This can indicate a delayed/late marriage - however we must check the entire chart. for ex: if conjunct mars, this can change.

☀️ Mars in Cap 10th House

This is mars exaltation, it is more likely to block the negatives of mars in 10th. Instead, it gives a strong, lasting marriage. You are competent when it comes to taking care of your family. You can make career advancements after marrying - this doesn't have to be directly related to the spouse/marriage, simply marriage activates career/status advancements for you.

You or the spouse can be motivated to be better than your/their own father. Once the first child has been born, you and/or the spouse really locks tf in when it comes to making money. This usually happens when the child is still an infant or toddler. The parent(s) desire more money and become concerned with legacy for their children. They may look for ways to advance at their current job, they may consider going back to school to advance, they may look for a new company that will pay more for their experience.

If negatively aspected or saturn is negatively placed, the above can change. You and/or the spouse can become demanding of one another. You and/or the spouse can have high expectations for one another and for their own life but fail or do nothing to succeed. You can develop anger issues that you must get a control over. This is believed to be due to past life karmas.

☀️ Jupiter in 11th House

This is one indicator for male children. You can find success easily if malefic planets don’t conjunct or aspect this planet.

☀️ A planet debilitated in D1 and D9

You should stay cautious of this planet and it's houses. This will continue to test you throughout your life. It is nothing you can't handle. In certain cases, it can put you through many tests that help build maturity. I have read the chart of a millionaire with a debilitated Moon in 11th - which some would wrongfully consider a doomed placement.

For full accuracy the chart must be read as a while alongside natal. I offer paid readings if you are interested in finding out more about spouse and married life.

[kumkaniudaku]

Requesting sadness 15: “I can’t do this anymore.” w/ Terry Richmond but it could be an unrequited love story that maybe was reciprocated idk

@pocketsizedpanther put NFL!Terry in my mind and this is what came up.

Silence. Unusual, unbearable silence. The kind of silence that hung in the air thick like humidity in Georgia, choking the life out of every living being in its vicinity. 

Silver forks scratched porcelain plates while two lovers sat across from each other trying to salvage a romantic dinner gone awry before it could ever start. Terry sensed the discomfort when he flew into town with no welcoming hug at the end of the tarmac. She left no text, no call, not even an insight into her whereabouts via Instagram stories. Only an empty space where her pretty red BMV usually sat awaiting his return. 

She hadn’t been in the stands lately either. From the cloudless skies of Los Angeles to the bitter chill of Philadelphia, she was a mainstay on the sidelines, wearing his last name on her back like a badge of honor. But tickets had gone unclaimed here and there. Not enough to raise alarms, but enough for him to bring it up as they dug into the night’s dinner. 

“If you wasn’t trynna be in the cold, that’s cool too. It’s just…you know. I wanted you to be there to see us win the conference. It’s kind of a big deal. First time in like six seasons or something like that. I don’t know. I just got here.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to be sorry. I’d rather make sure you’re good than get tight over a game. Football isn’t more important than you. You straight?” He shoveled a forkful of branzino into his mouth, looking across the table for a response that she never provided. “Tia, what’s up? You feeling alright?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Did I forget something?” 

“No.” 

“Somebody DM you something crazy? Fans bothering you again? Let me know something.” 

Her distant stare slowly drifted to his face with tears welling in her waterline. “I-Terrence, I can’t do this anymore?” 

“Do what? What you mean?” He knew. He’d seen the text messages and how she rushed out of the room to answer phone calls. The rumor mills and blind item reports never missed a beat. Atlanta wasn’t a city for secrets. But, he prayed that they’d been mistaken. Taking a sip of his water, he took a deep breath and repeated himself. “What can’t you do anymore? Sneak around like I can’t see you? Lie? Cheat? What is it, Tia?” 

Each question came out louder than the one before, making Tia wince in her seat. 

She knew he’d never put his hands on her. Terry was too sweet for that. So sweet that it made life boring. Being a kept trophy wife wasn’t her speed, but she allowed him to woo her in the VIP section of a club in Las Vegas and drag her back to a slow life full of WAG meetings and nosey neighbors. The thrill of being All Star tight end Terrence Richmond’s girlfriend lost its luster the moment engagement rings and wedding dresses became the topic of every conversation. 

One-night stands turned into sneaking around during long road trips until feelings and another life threw a wrench in what was supposed to be a quick fling with someone far too stupid to be a long-term beau. She’d fucked up. 

“It’s not you,” she choked out, trying to offer him some solace. “He was around when you weren’t and I-”

“Bro, don’t explain that shit to me! You don’t think I’m lonely sometimes? That I don’t meet women ready to fill a void if I snap my fingers? C’mon, Tia. This me you talkin’ to right now! Stop playing in my face!” 

He was fuming and fighting to keep his emotions at bay as he paced across the lavish dining room. 

Tia drew in a deep breath to calm the tears forcing a painful lump into her throat. “I’m sorry, Terry. I know I messed up. I embarrassed you and I’m so fucking sorry for that.” 

“Did you fuck him?” Dread attacked their bellies simultaneously. Seconds passed so slowly that he looked over at the wall clock to make sure time wasn’t standing still. Her silence became confirmation. 

She swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m pregnant. Yesterday makes eight weeks. Terry...”

“The Houston game, wasn’t it. When you said you got sick halfway through and had to leave early. You lied in front of my mama and got pregnant while she was worried about you. You fuckin’ sick in the head, Tia, what the fuck!”

Any explanation Tia intended to offer became lost in a swirl of profanity and angry shouting. Betrayed was the prevailing sentiment. All of his hopes for a family smiling back at him before pre-game intros were dashed, leaving him grieving in real-time. He blamed himself for believing that she was ready for something serious and ignoring the warnings. Now, all he had to show for his blind optimism was a broken heart. 

Tia watched Terry dissolve into a near rage with tears ruining her foundation as they poured without ceasing. All of the trust, all of the love they’d built in two years together was washed away by her selfishness. 

“You gotta go,” he finally managed to grit through clenched teeth. “Get the fuck out. Nah, fuck it. I’ll go. You stay until I can get some shit figured out, but you can’t stay here past the weekend.”

“Terrence! I don’t have anywhere to go!” 

“That’s not my fuckin’ problem! Call your sister or that nigga or some shit, I don’t care. All I’ve ever done is take care of you. If you think you can keep makin’ a fool outta me, you got the wrong motherfucka. This shit is over. Forreal this time!”

“But, I can’t -” 

“What the fuck are you fighting for, Tia? You made your decision. Deal with that shit!”

Sobbing and pleas to rethink his decision hit the condo’s walls like bricks, likely fueling a noise complaint that would be slapped on the door come morning. Tia listened to Terry rifle through drawers and closets on the hunt for enough to get him through a few nights at the Four Seasons. 

He just needed to blow off some steam. They’d been in this place before, angry and screaming at the top of their lungs behind her indiscretions, only to come back together and push the pain of the past to the far recesses of their mind. But, as he stomped his way out of the front door and into the night without so much as a second look, the future became more clear. 

He was gone. For good this time.

[rhiannonsknife]

ok ok i will be the one to break the rhiannon/jackie streak, do u have any shauna gf hcs? whether it be pre-crash, during the wilderness, adult shauna?

── .✦ DATING SHAUNA SHIPMAN

— summary: dating shauna shipman pre-crash hcs

— warnings: established, secret relationship. gn!reader. fluff. angsty ending (couldn’t help myself).

— a/n: bless you anon!! my first ever shauna request, we’re breaking the jackie/rhiannon spell!

shauna who always passes you secret notes in class!

you and shauna both pass notes back and forth in class, a quiet, sweet ritual that she never skips, no matter how many times you’ve seen each other that day. sometimes they’re little doodles, other times they’re more vulnerable glimpses of her thoughts and pieces of herself she can’t say out loud. she always finds it easier to write her emotions down, rather than talking about them. you’ve obviously seen the journal she keeps and you know that she will scribble her thoughts down whenever she’s got the chance, whether it’s something insignificant or something that genuinely upsets her. shauna passes you notes in class, talking all about how pretty she thinks you are, and then blushes furiously when you bring it up afterward.

shauna who offers to help you study, but ends up being the biggest distraction

study sessions at the library or one of your bedrooms start off focused, but usually end up with her leaning against you, talking about everything but the assignment. she knows the subject (because, of course, she does) and you -unfortunately- don’t care enough about it to prioritize it over a good conversation with your girlfriend and some quality time. the consequences only catch up with you when exam season is right around the corner, and you spent all your time cuddling in bed or talking about anything but school. then, she really helps you with your schoolwork, staying up late to tutor you and keep you company. “you do the same for me,” she’ll shrug. you would, but you both know damn well you couldn’t if you wanted to.

shauna who secretly loves to show off at soccer practice or an important match.

she’d never admit it but she loves it when you come to practice with her after class, watching her and the other girls from the bleachers. she is obviously focused on the field, yet she always manages to sneak glances your way when she thinks no one’s looking. after a big win, she’ll always run up to you first because she knows you’ll be there, by the sidelines, cheering her and the team on! shauna will ignore the other celebrations, just searching for you to share the victory. a quick, deep hug or a soft kiss behind the bleachers means more to her than the game itself.

shauna who always makes up for having to hide your relationship.

being from a small town with prying eyes, you often have to keep things as lowkey as possible in public, but she makes up for it by being extra affectionate in private. she’ll tuck her head into the crook of your neck, or reach for your hand, as if holding onto you makes her feel more like herself. i think she’s a lot more into physical touch than one would expect, especially when it’s just the two of you together! when you have the rare chance to spend a quiet morning together, she’s extra gentle, lacing her fingers with yours and resting her head on your shoulder. <33

shauna, who shares her plans of a future with no one but you.

not even jackie knows that she’s planning on leaving as soon as anyhow possible. no one but you does. she dreams of getting out of town, and sometimes the two of you will sit in her car, talking for hours about the life you’d build together somewhere far away. especially as graduation gets closer, shauna becomes increasingly restless and quiet whenever the future comes up. one night, she confesses, “everyone keeps talking about college, moving away, and all that, but i just…i don’t know if i’m ready to let go.” she’d look at you, her voice a little shaky. “i mean, what if…what if we don’t see each other as much? what if everything changes?” you’d reassure her: you definitely won’t be the reason she doesn’t get to achieve her dreams.

shauna, who lets you borrow her clothes!!

she loves when you’re stealing your clothes: hoodies, t-shirts, anything you can ‘sneak’ away with. you always return them with the scent of your perfume on them, which might be the reason why shauna likes it so much! also: the first time she sees you wearing her soccer jersey, with her name and number on your back, she is WEAK! she loves lending you her jacket, the kind she’d say she “doesn’t even like” (she wears it all the time) but she’d smile seeing you wearing it, adding quietly, “looks better on you, anyway”

shauna, whose room is dedicated to all the memories you’ve made together.

her walls her plastered with pictures of the two of you and she keeps a small stash of polaroids hidden in one of her drawers: moments she’s captured that no one else knows about. sometimes she’ll get them out and look through them at night, feeling a rare warmth in knowing she has these tiny pieces of happiness all to herself <3

shauna, who calls you at the absolute crack of dawn.

she loves to call you late at night, talking about everything and nothing. her voice gets quieter as she says, “i just like knowing you’re there, you know?” shauna sometimes goes on about jackie, too, mostly because they’re so close and she’s frustrated that her best friend seems to have everything figured out. you’re the only one who knows that her feelings for jackie are complicated -to say the least- and layered, and you do your best to reassure her without jealousy, knowing she chose you for a reason. other times, she’ll literally fall asleep over the phone and you’ll be there to hear the way her breathing grows softer until, eventually, she’s snoring through the receiver.

shauna who is lowkey secretly affectionate!!

she acts so composed around her friends, but in private, shauna’s all about hand holding and little forehead kisses!! also, hugs from behind?? sneaking up on you and then suddenly wrapping her arms around you and peppering the back of your neck in kisses?? and don’t even get me started on the cuddles she gives! she’ll blush and laugh it off, muttering, “you’re making me so soft,” before giving you another kiss anyway or burying herself deeper in the crook of your neck.

shauna, who is also kind of protective over you.

and, honestly, the same goes for you too: at parties, you’re always on edge when you see shauna drinking or getting roped into something reckless. she brushes it off, claiming she’s fine, but you can tell there’s a part of her that’s pushing boundaries to feel something more intense. if anyone even hints at giving you trouble, she’s quick to stand up for you. shauna will always find her ways to make sure you know you’re safe with her, even if it’s just a hand on your back or a quick glare at anyone who looks at you the wrong way. but also!! shauna, who becomes a whole new level of protective when you’re sick! when you come down with a cold, she surprises you by coming over with a bag full of snacks, soup, and a stack of dvds. she tries to play it off casually, saying, “don’t get any ideas! i’m just here to make sure you’re not dying or anything” but, as she settles in beside you, she ends up fussing over you, adjusting your blanket and checking your temperature with the back of her hand.

shauna who absolutely adores it when you run your fingers through her hair.

when things get overwhelming for either of you. shauna loves nothing more than to just sit quietly with you. she doesn’t even need to talk or do anything special, just being with you, feeling your presence, grounds her. but what she loves the most is when you run your hands through her hair, even if she’s shy about asking for it. on bad or stressful days, she’ll lie with her head in your lap, letting your fingers soothe her, the sensation melting away her worries for just a little while.

shauna who annotates her favorite books for you!!

i can’t believe i’m only coming up with this now: she would 100% annotate all of her favorite novels for you, scribbling down her thoughts and highlighting her favorite paragraphs!! if you have to read a book for school that you’re absolutely not interested in, she’d do the same thing for you, trying to make the experience just a little more enjoyable and rewarding for you!! oh reading together?? specifically shauna reading to you while you rest your head in her lap??

shauna who journals about you.

half of her journal entries are about you and your relationship. she keeps little things from your dates, like a movie ticket, a flower you picked for her, or a picture she took of you and collects them between the pages of said journal!!

shauna who, after all of these things, disappears from your life.

not just from your life specifically, but everyone’s. when she tells you about the trip, there’s an unease you can’t shake. you were there when they won states and you know the nationals are next. and still, your intuition tells you that something is wrong. you don’t get a chance to say goodbye the way you want: no real hug, no lingering kiss, just a quick goodbye with friends around. the memory of that rushed, simple parting would haunt you for a long time…

shauna, who has written you letters she never got to give you before the plane crash.

shauna had a habit of writing letters to you late at night, pouring out all her fears, frustrations, and hopes. she’s kept them hidden in a box under her bed, along with the polaroids, convinced she’ll never show them to you. each letter is a reminder of just how much you meant to her, even if she couldn’t always say it aloud. you stumble upon them during the long hours you spent in her room after they go missing and take them home with you. every time, during those months, that you find yourself forgetting the sound of her voice or the words she’d used, you get them out and they’ll bring it all back to you.

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 9 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

Jinwoo had been mulling over a simple, yet increasingly puzzling question: How does one even contact you?

Despite weeks of fighting together, not once had he taken the initiative to reach out. The strange thing? You two hadn’t even exchanged numbers. You either planned your next raid before parting ways, or—more recently—you would simply show up because of your own schedule, or a butterfly of yours would come to him first.

The answer came to him, in a way that felt both obvious and absurd. Your butterflies.

Jinwoo wasn’t one to wait idly for answers, so he decided to test his theory. Concentrating on the familiar presence of your aura, he extended his hand, replicating that feeling in his mind. Moments later, one of your butterflies—the one that often remained hidden nearby, perhaps acting as your eyes—fluttered into view, landing lightly on his open palm.

Its wings faltered slightly, as if in acknowledgment.

This might actually work.

Closing his eyes, Jinwoo focused on the connection he had felt before, the distinct feeling of the red butterfly communicating with him.

Take me to her.

He didn’t know if it would respond, but soon enough, the butterfly took off, guiding him through the city.

---

He found you in the Hunter’s Market, haggling with a merchant. You were engaged in a rather intense back-and-forth, and judging by the merchant’s begrudging look, you were winning. In your hands, Jinwoo caught sight of what looked like a dormant magic beast egg, likely the reason for the negotiation.

"You're late."

You greeted him without even turning around, continuing to inspect the wares. Jinwoo raised an eyebrow. Not even a flicker of surprise from you. It was becoming clear that not much could catch you off guard.

By now, he was getting used to your way of doing things. "I need to talk to you."

There was an unspoken understanding between you that this wasn’t a conversation for public ears.

As you continued to browse the market, you hummed in acknowledgment. "I need to talk to you about some things too. Let’s continue this conversation in my domain. I’ll be done here in a few."

Jinwoo froze, staring at your back in confusion.

“Domain?"

"Dungeon," you corrected nonchalantly, still focused on the items displayed before you, your words casual as if you were discussing the weather.

Jinwoo’s brain paused for a moment.

"You own a dungeon?"

At that, you paused, a beat of silence passing before you turned toward him with a curious tilt of your head. "Did I never mention it before?"

"..."

"Ah."

For a split second, Jinwoo had the very distinct and rare urge to pinch your cheek. But instead, he just stared, half-amused, half-incredulous. You owned a dungeon, and you were mentioning it in the most off-handed way possible.

Of course, you would be the kind of person to forget to bring up owning something like that.

And just like that, another piece of the puzzle that was you fell into place, though Jinwoo knew he had only barely scratched the surface.

---

Jinwoo couldn't help but feel a rising sense of disbelief as he followed you into the alley. He had barely come to terms with the revelation that you owned a dungeon. Even now, he had to force himself to stop asking questions before they overwhelmed him.

He kept telling himself, Stay calm. Just get to a private place. Ask your questions there.

But, of course, fate had other plans.

As if summoned by his very thoughts, a glowing portal materialized in front of them with a soft hum. Jinwoo froze mid-step, his eyes widening. The gate was far smaller than the typical ones he had encountered, just big enough to fit a full-grown adult comfortably—yet there was no mistaking it for anything but a dungeon gate. The shimmering silver-white wisps that surrounded it were unlike any other, almost blending with rainbow-like accents at the edges. It looked... strange, subdued compared to the usual ethereal blues and reds, but somehow still powerful.

It was just his luck.

Jinwoo had been trying to push the thousand and one questions flooding his mind to the back of his thoughts, but now, they came rushing back in full force. He glanced at you, but you didn’t even seem phased by the sudden appearance of the portal. Instead, you waved him forward, as if portals and dungeons appeared in alleyways every day.

He hesitated for a split second but, deciding it was better to follow your lead than be left behind in confusion, he stepped forward, his senses alert. The instant he crossed the threshold of the gate, everything seemed to shift. The world around him blurred for a second before stabilizing again, and he found himself standing in a vast open temple-like structure.

It was nothing like the harsh, ominous dungeons he’d been to before.

The structure was grand, with high ceilings and pillars that seemed to stretch endlessly upwards. The atmosphere had an air of serenity to it, something so starkly different from what he expected when entering a dungeon. But it didn’t end there. As he followed you forward, stepping through what looked like the entrance of a colossal, ancient temple, Jinwoo’s gaze was drawn outward.

The view beyond the floating temple was breathtaking.

The sight was nothing short of a dreamscape. Lush forests and vast gardens stretched far beyond what the eye could see. Gentle rivers meandered through valleys, their sparkling waters catching the sunlight. Towering, misty mountains loomed in the distance, and there were labyrinthine paths that seemed to lead into hidden areas, mysterious domed structures rising proudly in the distance. The land appeared to have been untouched by time, ancient and majestic in its quiet beauty.

It felt more like a paradise than any dungeon Jinwoo had ever seen.

This is a dungeon?

"I know, right?" you spoke, breaking his thoughts, your voice playful. "Trust me, the first time I got here, I thought I was dead and that this was paradise."

Jinwoo’s eyes flicked to you in surprise.

But you continued walking calmly ahead without a glance back, seeming completely at ease, at home.

This place, this dungeon, was a paradox. It was both beautiful and dangerous, serene and lethal. As you moved forward, he couldn’t help but make comparisons. It reminded him of the butterflies—so ethereal, so delicate, yet with a deadly bite.

Like you, Jinwoo realized.

As if sensing his thoughts, you shot him a brief glance over your shoulder. Your eyes caught his for a moment before you turned back ahead, leading him forward through the landscape. Jinwoo shook his head, his thoughts momentarily swirling. But something made him froze in his steps.

He watched you from behind, the soft fluttering of butterflies surrounding you, some of them trailing closely behind, others flitting about aimlessly.

One butterfly, the familiar red one, fluttered close to you and landed delicately on your finger. You brought it up to your lips and kissed it gently, a soft, quiet action that felt impossibly tender.

Divine.

Jinwoo couldn’t help but wonder again, and for some reason, his pulse quickened. But, before he could dwell too much on his absurd thoughts, he shook his head and hurried to catch up with you.

---

The two of you continued walking until you reached a beautiful outdoor gazebo. The serene atmosphere of the garden, complete with a quiet pond surrounded by vibrant flowers, made it feel just like the rest of this space shouldn’t had been, a paradise. The soft trickle of water from nearby waterfalls added to the peaceful ambiance. On the table in front of the gazebo, there was tea and snacks laid out, ready for the conversation he knew he had to have with you.

Jinwoo sat down across from you, his mind buzzing with questions. He had so many things he wanted to know, and yet, he wasn’t sure where to start.

You, on the other hand, took a sip of your tea, completely at ease, before setting it down. You studied him quietly for a moment, perhaps waiting for him to speak first.

It took a moment, but Jinwoo finally asked, "This place... this dungeon. How did you come to own it?"

You sighed, leaning back in your chair, looking out over the garden for a moment as if gathering your thoughts. "Ah, yes. The story of how I got this place. It’s not simple, but I suppose I owe you an explanation."

You paused, seeming to gather yourself. "The truth is, this dungeon was here long before I ever arrived. In fact, I... was lost here when I was a child."

Jinwoo blinked, surprised. You—lost?

You continued, seemingly unfazed by his reaction. "I was barely a teen when I stumbled into it. The Trial System... it didn’t exactly help me, if you know what I mean. But it gave me a challenge I couldn’t ignore. To leave this place, I had to defeat the dungeon’s guardians."

Guardians? Bosses? Multiple?

You caught his gaze, raising an eyebrow as if to ask if that was a question. Jinwoo didn’t say anything, but his mind whirled. It was clear that this place wasn’t like any other dungeon he’d ever encountered.

"So, how did you own it?" he asked, his voice quieter now, as if trying to make sense of this all.

“The Trial System gave it to me as a... reward, I guess,” you said, a faint smile playing on your lips. "It’s mine now, in every sense of the word. And because I own it, I can summon it whenever I need to. I can open a portal to it and leave at will." You looked at him, eyes gleaming. "That’s how I was able to summon that gate earlier. It’s a... special gift."

Jinwoo absorbed the information, slowly piecing it together. "So, you can teleport anywhere?”

“Not exactly, I need to have a clear picture of where I want to go." You shrugged nonchalantly.

Jinwoo exhaled sharply, his thoughts swirling. As much as he wanted to ask more—wanted to demand answers—he felt something within him pull him back. This was your secret to reveal, in your own time.

So, instead of questioning you further, he allowed himself a moment of quiet contemplation. You seemed to know what he was thinking. With a soft smile, you raised your cup again and said, "I don’t mind sharing more, Jinwoo. But just know, some things are better left unsaid.”

Jinwoo nodded, his gaze lingering on you. He would get the answers he was looking for, one way or another. But for now, he would have to trust you—because there was no other choice.

---

Jinwoo stared at you, completely flabbergasted, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You have to what now?"

You sighed, sinking a bit deeper into the seat of the gazebo, as if this whole conversation were some kind of exhausting memory you'd rather not dig up. "I have to level up my skills manually. Yes. Manually."

You could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to wrap his mind around it. "Wait, so… no shortcuts? No automatic leveling?"

"None." You let out a dramatic groan, leaning back and stretching your arms out. "The system basically made me work my way up through blood, sweat, and endless labor. You’d think the trial version would offer at least some quality-of-life updates, but nope. If I wanted to get better at farming, I had to actually go out and till the fields. If I wanted to improve cooking… yeah, let’s just say that was a nightmare."

Jinwoo blinked, half in shock, half in amusement. "Wait… so, all those skills that the system grants—crafting, mining, cooking—you had to actually do all those things?"

"Yep," you replied, with a roll of your eyes. "No instant boosts for me. While you get to succeed or fail with crafting based on your intelligence stat, I actually had to sit down and grind every skill point myself. And, of course, I started off just as badly as you’d expect.”

He tried to picture it and stifled a laugh. "So you’re telling me… you burned a boiled egg?”

"Listen," you huffed, giving him an exasperated look. "It was the lowest-level cooking skill, okay? Apparently, it was so low that I couldn't even be trusted to make something as simple as a boiled egg. Somehow, it just… burned." You buried your face in your hands, grumbling, "It’s still a mystery to me how boiling water and an egg turned into charcoal. But that was my life. Trial version for the win."

Jinwoo couldn’t hold back his laugh anymore, and the sound of it filled the air, rich and full of genuine amusement. "You? Burning an egg? You?"

"Hey, don’t laugh! It’s not funny," you protested and pouted at him. "Let’s just say I made my fair share of… tragic cooking attempts before my skill level got high enough to handle basic meals without a disaster."

You watched him try to stifle his laughter, but your own lips twitched, betraying a smile as well. "And it wasn’t just cooking," you added. "Farming was another story. I didn’t even know the basics—soil preparation, crop rotation, pest control. Do you have any idea how long it took me to produce anything that wasn't... wilted? Even mining was brutal. There I was, chipping away with an old pickaxe for hours just to get a sliver of ore."

He shook his head, still grinning. "Looks like you went through your own personal training arc as well."

"Of course I do." you agreed with a snort. "If the system hadn’t taken feedback from me eventually, you’d be the one cursing it out every time you tried to do something simple. But yeah, thankfully, the system decided to cut you a break. Guess my suffering counted for something, after all."

You straightened in your seat and took a sip of your tea, a satisfied smirk crossing your face. "But at least, once I got a skill to a decent level, it stayed there. Permanent. I don’t have to touch a frying pan for years, and the skill level’s still as good as ever. And the skills I invested in heavily—those have even broader effects."

Jinwoo’s brow furrowed, curious now. "Broader effects?"

You nodded, glancing up thoughtfully as if reliving memories. "Take my language skill, for example. I leveled it up while studying Monster Tongue, which was excruciating at first. But once I maxed out that skill, learning other languages was a breeze. The system gave me a boost, kind of like an automatic enhancement for anything similar. If I tried learning another language now, it’d be easy compared to when I first started out.”

He gave a low whistle. "So basically, the more you leveled up, the easier it became to learn things related to that skill?"

"Exactly." You placed your cup back on the saucer with a gentle clink. "Though there’s a catch. Back then, whenever the system went through an update, some skills would get expanded. The cap would get set higher, and I’d have to grind all over again to max them out."

You gave him a look of exasperation. "Imagine maxing out a skill only for the system to update and say, 'Hey, you can go up to Level 50 now instead of 30!' That happened so many times, I lost count."

Jinwoo leaned back, his expression growing more serious. "So… what happens now? Are you stuck with your current stats forever?"

You took a slow breath, letting the question sink in before nodding. "That’s exactly it. Since the trial stage ended when you became the player, there haven’t been any more updates. My levels, skills, and stats… they’re frozen as they are. I can’t adjust my stats, I can’t level anything up, that’s why I don’t get EXP anymore. It’s like I’m in a kind of… stasis."

He was silent for a moment, digesting the weight of that statement. It was strange to think that someone with as much knowledge and power as you would be… limited.

"I still have everything I gained during the trial, of course," you continued, your tone turning thoughtful as you gazed out over the garden. "But it’s a strange feeling, knowing that I’ll never improve again. All my stats, skills, and levels are frozen in time. There’s no ‘growth’ anymore—not like what you have."

Jinwoo frowned. "And that doesn’t bother you?"

You shrugged, meeting his eyes again. "It did, at first. But after a while, I came to terms with it. I put in the effort back then, and I reaped the rewards. Sure, I miss the feeling of progress, of leveling up. But the fact that you’re the player now means the system’s finished with me." You managed a smile, though it was a bit bittersweet.

He looked at you, quiet for a moment, perhaps feeling a hint of the sacrifice you'd made just for the sake of his journey.

"So now," you said, breaking the silence with a brighter tone, "I’m basically a living relic of the trial version, here to help you navigate the system’s quirks."

Jinwoo smirked at that. "The legendary burnt-egg chef, my official guide through the system."

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "That title better not stick." Then, with a playful nudge of your cup in his direction, you raised an eyebrow. "And hey, if I’m going to help you, maybe you could use a few pointers. Starting with, oh, I don’t know… naming tips? You’re downright horrible at that."

The two of you shared a look, both of you smiling. And despite the strange circumstances, Jinwoo knew he was glad to have you by his side, guiding him, burnt eggs and all.

[Oh, he’ll not let that go, will he?]

“And whose fault do you think that is?”

---

"The meals with healing properties, the intricate mana stones, and how your butterflies can affect my daggers' stats... So that's why..." Jinwoo trailed off, connecting the dots.

You nodded, munching on a biscuit. "Mhm, pretty much. Since I have to actually *learn* the fundamentals of each skill, I can manipulate and craft related items more easily. It makes altering, replicating, or even making things from scratch a lot more natural."

You paused, reflecting for a moment before continuing, "It’s a blessing that the last system update allowed me to max out certain skills to the point where I can do these things in reality without relying solely on the system."

You brushed the crumbs from your fingers and leaned back, satisfied. "Anyway, that's all I wanted to tell you. Now, what is it you wanted to say?"

Jinwoo took a deep breath, locking eyes with you. "Join me for a week."

"...Eh?"

Without a word, he held up an item—a key.

<Castle Door Key>.

It was the entry to the Demon Castle, the S-rank dungeon created by the system itself.

"There’s no rule saying I can’t bring someone with me. You don’t gain any more experience, so there’s nothing for me to lose. But you might get materials you won’t find anywhere else, not even in the hunter's market—"

"I refuse."

Jinwoo blinked, surprised. "What?"

You looked away, your mind racing. The offer was tempting—you had several experiments in mind, but there was too much at stake. There were bigger forces at play—the plot, the system's interference, and Jinwoo's crucial development. You couldn’t afford to be too involved in this one. You needed a good excuse, something he would believe.

"Jinwoo," you began, "you’re aware of my powers' limitations, right?"

"What does that have to do with—"

"Listen." Your voice, suddenly sharp, cut through the air, and Jinwoo froze.

For the first time, Jinwoo felt uneasy, confused, like he had said something wrong. He didn’t like the shift in your demeanor, especially when it was directed at him.

"'Demon' Castle," you continued, your tone softer but firm, "just by the name alone, we can assume the majority, if not half, of enemies there will be undead."

"..."

"My powers thrive off life. In an essentially ‘dead’ land, I’ll be at a severe disadvantage—"

"I'll protect you."

"And that’s exactly the problem. I’ll be a deadweight."

"Just focus on supporting me and my shadows."

You stared at him, the determination in his eyes unwavering. He was serious—dead serious.

You rubbed your temples, feeling a headache coming on. "You’re really persistent."

"I know," he replied, not once backing down.

You exhaled, resigned. Deep down, you knew that continuing to refuse him would lead to something far more troublesome. There was no winning against Jinwoo when he was this determined. "Alright," you finally said, "I’ll join you. But if things go south, you have to trust me to pull back. Understood?"

As if you could leave him, the nagging thought echoed in your mind.

Jinwoo’s gaze softened slightly, and a small, rare smile crept onto his lips. "Understood."

You only hoped that the system wouldn’t interfere or cause any unexpected complications this time. But one question remained: why was Jinwoo so insistent on bringing you along, despite the risks?

Unbeknownst to you, Jinwoo was asking himself the same thing. But it was something he wasn’t quite ready to admit—not to you, and perhaps not even to himself.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [023/10/2024] -

The middle part of this, the convo between Jinwoo and (Name) feels a bit weird, so I apologize for the OOC-ness. I'll come back to this later.

[ohithankyou]

now that the initial feelings of shock hurt and betrayal re: bucktommy’s abrupt breakup (let me be dramatic) are wearing off (well i’m still hurt and depressed lol) — i’m circling back to the conversation buck and tommy had that led to the breakup and appreciating it in a different light than before (although i still do not like certain elements of it). specifically, tommy’s reasoning for the breakup - now that i’ve processed my feelings - i’ve come to realize give him so much more depth as a character and really bring forward what we got to know about him before in a different way while putting other things we got to know about him, into perspective. what i think i struggled with initially, and what i still struggle with now, is that we won’t get to see him explore any of those feelings. not with buck and not alone. if he was still a character on the show, even if him and buck never got back together, we’d get that chance to peel back the layers and understand the reasons behind him breaking up with buck when both of them essentially wanted the same thing: a future together. but we don’t get that opportunity since he was a side character/love interest.

and all in all, i think i would be able to appreciate the breakup and some of the reasoning behind it more if it wasn’t meant to be the hard end of their relationship when the narrative leaves it so open-ended and ready for deeper exploration. if there would be more to come - an aftermath - whether that be them making up (my ideal scenario and what to me makes the most sense for their stories), or finding some sort of closure with each other by having a conversation that really explores the feelings that were laid out rather suddenly and abruptly for us to digest.

[brooklyncircus]

"Until you..." part. 7.

Hiromi Higuruma x reader.

Until you arrived, Hiromi Higuruma had never thought that the appearance of a new person could bring about small, successive changes in his life. But the truth was that things were changing, transforming, evolving. Or, on second thought, maybe it was only him changing, and that was affecting his world in general.

And he knew this was because of someone.

Because of you.

When he arrived at work at eight in the morning, punctual as always, to that large, multi-story building, modern and full of windows, he was greeted by several things he was already used to.

One of those things was the excessive number of people walking around the entrance from one side to another, with papers, with things, with people. Many people, in fact. So many that he felt a strange sensation forming in his throat and stomach, something like the urge to vomit.

Another of those things was the sound of muttered curses, yawns, the smell of cheap coffee, and the usual clacking of keyboards from the floor above. Even the monotonous, bored greeting from the receptionist, who, as always, was dressed in an extravagant way and looked like a Christmas tree.

But he didn’t think today would be out of the ordinary. Oh no, not at all. And so he continued walking toward the elevator with the same serious and professional expression as always, his hair slightly disheveled, giving him a strangely elegant look, and his briefcase swinging by his right leg.

Or so he thought, until the receptionist realized who she had greeted and suddenly stood up from her chair, behind the huge desk she was immersed in. She made a few strange hand gestures at Hiromi, which he didn’t see, until the words came out. "Dr. Hiromi. Sir, wait!"

Hiromi was in a good mood, having seen you that very morning, having accompanied you to the library, having talked to you. Everything kept him in a good mood. But, having now stepped into that building, the law firm where he worked, that good mood blended with the usual boredom and frustration of the workday.

He turned around slowly, as if taking his time. He looked at the receptionist with a neutral, expressionless face. He checked the time on the watch adorning his wrist and realized that, indeed, he had arrived on time. That’s why he was rather confused. "Yes, miss?"

The receptionist adjusted her glasses, round and big and yellow like a slice of pineapple. "The prosecutor, Dr. Forger, wants to see you in his office. He told me to let you know as soon as you arrived," she swallowed nervously. "He said it was important."

Forger.

He closed his eyes upon hearing that name and sighed, more tired than ever. "God, give me patience," he thought.

But when he opened his eyes, he thanked the woman for her hospitality and headed to the elevator again, now intending to go to Forger’s office.

Don’t get him wrong. Hiromi and Forger had a good relationship (the latter used to loudly proclaim they were "besto friendos," while he would insist their relationship was entirely work-related and professional, as if trying to forget they had shared a room when they went to university and studied law together, long ago), but their personalities were complete opposites. And although Forger held a higher position than him (Hiromi had declined it because he wanted to continue practicing as a lawyer), it didn’t lessen the affection the prosecutor had for him.

That’s why, as he walked across the white ceramic floor, he couldn’t help but dissociate and think of you. Should he have asked you what you were studying at university? Which subject you liked the most, which one the least? Why you had chosen it and all that? He wrinkled his nose, conflicted. Maybe yes, maybe no. But he was at peace knowing he hadn’t pressured you or anything like that at any time, especially with such personal questions. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder… Should he have done it? It’s the normal thing to ask in a conversation between two people.

"Screw it," he thought in front of Forger’s office door. He bit his lower lip slightly and knocked three times before opening it.

Forger greeted him with his typical radiant smile, looking like an American in a Hollywood movie (despite being Japanese) and the usual good humor that made Hiromi suppress the urge to roll his eyes. "Hiro Higuruma!" the man greeted him, motioning to the chair in front of his desk for him to sit. "There’s a lot to talk about."

But Hiromi, not in the mood to put up with Forger’s nonsense, cut him off abruptly. "I have several pending cases, things to sort out in my life, and people who need defending. I won’t stay here long, so say what you want."

If Forger hadn’t known Hiromi since they were both eighteen and wasn’t familiar with his grumpy old-man humor from practically forever, he would have felt deeply hurt and offended, but he didn’t.

"In a few weeks, approximately a month and a half, there will be offers for new lawyers, fresh out of university, wanting to join this firm. And, besides that, there are several mock trials happening, just to get them prepared for the future." The man clicked his tongue approvingly. "Nothing too serious, but I was invited to attend. And I want you to come with me."

"No," Hiromi replied bluntly and coldly.

"I wasn’t asking you ‘please,’ Higuruma," Forger said, looking at him the way a parent would look at a rebellious child.

Hiromi didn’t respond.

Forger raised an eyebrow. "You owe me."

Hiromi sighed, but he knew the man was right and that he wouldn’t be able to say no for long. "Send me the date, place, and time, and I’ll be there."

"Damn bastard," he thought as he walked down the hall minutes later, heading to his office. But, although he would never admit it, a small smile crept onto his lips.

After reflecting for a while, sitting in his office, he regretted not asking you what degree you were pursuing at university. What if you were studying law? That was another reason he had accepted Forger’s proposal, because he felt something. If you were, it was obvious that you would be practicing or rehearsing trials.

He knew it was silly, naive, and all that, but… Is hope not the last thing to die? Maybe he’d be lucky and see you there, rehearsing some trial. Or tomorrow on the train again.

He shook his head and sighed, as he grabbed his papers and read what he had started working on the day before.

And until you arrived, Hiromi Higuruma had never thought that the appearance of a new person could bring about small, successive changes in his life. But the truth was that things were changing, transforming, evolving. Or, on second thought, maybe it was only him changing, and that was affecting his world in general.

And he knew this was because of someone.

Because of you.

[saucerfulofsins]

Have another fun 7x05/8x06 parallel:

In 7x05, Buck was going to come out to Eddie during the gym scene. Instead, Eddie brings up his Catholic guilt for the very first time, keeping Buck's closet door closed. Well. Mostly. Because Buck does say he wishes he could help. This is in direct response to an earlier conversation Buck has with Maddie about lying to his best friend. When the coming out does happen, Eddie tells Buck he likes Tommy but not like that, and also that everyone loves Buck.

In 8x06, Eddie's Catholic guilt is brought up by Eddie for the first time since 7x05, partially in relation to feeling guilty for lying to his best friend (although, quite tellingly, Buck knows and doesn't care, unless Eddie is also talking about lying about something else). Then, in a follow-up, during which he is wearing gym clothes, Eddie brings up his own sexuality specifically to keep his own closet door shut. Hot priest says he is celibate (rather than unwilling), meaning that as with Marisol in 7x05, Eddie is getting cockblocked by God. Buck ignores his own closet door. Hot priest (tactfully) ignores Eddie's.

Also. After Buck plays out the mirror scene of his coming out to Eddie, after which Eddie originally went home, Buck this time goes home to Eddie.

Now try and tell me this isn't deliberate storytelling.

[thatnonameuser]

Neige being a platonic yandere for Vil is so good and interesting omg, did Vil ever realise what Neige did and that’s why he hates him or he never realised it so he hates him bc Neige always got to play the hero but Vil feels some sort of regret bc ‘it’s not his fault’ but it totally is his fault?

ANDDDD if Rook finds out what Neige has been doing does Rook want to help Neige or does he tell Vil? (probably not but still a fun idea to think about)

Vil knows something’s up. 

The film industry is very fickle. Roles can be handed out on names themselves rather than talent. And no director or casting agent wants their project to be a flop.

Vil knows this.

But he also knows that whenever he ever was offered the role of a protagonist, a hero, Neige would suddenly be interested in the project and want to join….only for the directors to immediately want to give the famed Neige LeBlanche the role of the loveable hero and Vil gets handed a contract with the villain role with his original pay being doubled for the ‘inconvenience’. 

Once or twice is a coincidence. Every single time is no coincidence. He was sure of Neige using his fame to manipulate casting on purpose to join him on the stage. The projects that Neige suddenly dropped out of when he was joining a new film or series. All the calls from his agent that told him about Neige suddenly being interested and the new contracts with a villain role. He’s not dumb, something was happening behind the scenes.

But he never had any proof. No way of being sure.

Neige was never malicious to him. Never cruel about getting his role. If anything, Neige was always a model castmate. Being polite, bringing him lunch based on his diet accommodations, (he never ate them) always trying to strike up a conversation and spend time with him.

But, as previously mentioned, the industry is fickle and type casting is something that happens frequently in the industry. 

Vil hates that Neige always gets to play the hero and he always has to play the villain. But he doesn’t know for sure that Neige is conspiring against him. 

Is it his fault? Is it not? Vil doesn’t know. 

But he’s very suspicious. 

Neige has never revealed what he’s done to anyone. But Rook is an impressive stalker. 

And Rook hasn’t told Vil. 

Rook’s dream world in the Japanese Server (SPOILER) shows that his dream is for Vil and Neige to be best friends, even if it means that he never meets Vil. Rook is equally obsessed with both of them, and their friendship is something he longs for. 

If Vil were to find out then he and Neige will never ever be friends. In fact, Vil would probably never work with Neige again. And Rook doesn’t want that. So he helps Neige by keeping his mouth shut. 

[ziggysarcana]

Shira couldn't help herself but laugh with him, stars in her eyes as she shot him a curious but teasing look, one eyebrow raised. "Oh, you want my cooties? Specifically? You're right, very different. My mistake." She gave a mock bow, silently repenting; but her gaze remained on him, lashes batting in a deliberately slow pace. "I guess, I wouldn't mind infecting you, then." It sounded much better in her head than it did out loud. A deep blush spread across her cheeks and she buried her face in her hands as a series of her own giggles erupted. "Oh, god, that came out wrong." Came out wrong but the sentiment was still the same. She grimaced into the space between her fingers before she placed her hands back into her lap, smiling at him wryly. "Thank you very much, Silas." Shira said, making sure to match her tone to the way he had said her name just a beat before, lingering and sweet. She didn't hide her appreciation, relaxing back against the sill as she watched him help her make the content's of the cup disappear. "I've never made a promise that I didn't keep." Her tone deliberate. Almost a tease, a challenge wrapped in affection.

She had noticed too, the way he looked at her when she was in the midst of speech. Not in a shallow way, much like one would go through the motions a la muscle memory. Rather that he was not only listening to her words, but assessing the true meaning’s that were nestled in the in-between’s; every gasp, hum and scrunch of her nose. It wasn't often that she saw that kind of sincerity. It exhilarated her and terrified her all the same, adrenaline pulsing and filling her with a warmth that spread throughout her chest. Shira had spent years trying to thicken up her skin so that she wouldn’t keep dripping blood all over everything she came in contact with that made her feel that kind of warmth. But in that moment, she wanted to shed that skin. Serpentine. A yearning that only increased the longer Silas peered at her. His carefully placed smile pulled her from the rest of her internal monologue, “To Portland!” she parroted, bringing her hand up to pretend to clink a glass against their shared one that sat in his hand. Even if she didn't think that it was wise for her to ever go back there; Shira still found herself thinking that Burnside might glow a little brighter if Silas were standing on it.

“No, no, no,” she quietly babbled, her hands waving in small, dismissive but friendly strokes “don’t be sorry, it’s okay. I don't mind.” And she really didn't mind; him looking at her like that. Even if it did make her more self aware. Shira pressed a palm back to the sill for a moment, trying to steady herself from a heartbeat so strong she swore she could feel it even in her toes; all numb and buzzing. “Pray tell, Silas,” she hummed — a soft, blithe tone that surprised even herself “what is it about me that is so intriguing to you?” Shira tilted her head to the side, her toes curling inside of her sneakers in anticipation of his answer; bated breath furling in her throat. “I find myself intrigued by you too.” Barely escaping amongst her own over thinking.

Suddenly; a thought. One that she couldn't stop from rushing to fruition, proverbial word vomit “I think I’d like to take your picture.” Which only left her blushing even more than before. She wanted to evaporate, sure she was embarrassing herself now. “I mean, if you'd like that.” Shira quickly added, squaring her shoulders as she resumed her position leaning towards him, quickly growing fond of their hushed conversations and carefully placed nuance.

Silas couldn't help but smile when Shira teased him about him mentioning cooties, it was like he was at the back of an english class, desperately holding in laughter while the teacher told off the class, it almost certainly gave his light blush a much more darker tone. His smile broke into a laugh when she doubted his judgement of the drink for this exact reason, frankly he was giggling, quite actively. "Well now I didn't admit that I wanted cooties, I admitted I want your cooties." He pointed out to her while she took another drink, completely aware of the possible innuendo, "Completely different things." He got his retribution when he watched her take another drink, as she much more openly reacted to her distate for it. His gentle laugher at this dampened as Shira asked Silas for his help, it was at this point where he realised just how much she was saying his name. He liked hearing her say his name, he liked it a lot. "I would love to help Shira," he said with a smile, taking the glass and having another bit drink, cutting the liquid inside the cup to half. "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep," he said smirking, there has been countless times he has sworn to make his own drinks less strong, only to ignore the measurements for his very next drink.

Silas appreciated Shira listening to him talk about his life. He's never had anyone actively turn him away when he reached out to talk about his childhood, at least not in recent memory, but he still didn't like to talk about it for his own reasons. To Silas' knowlege, Shira was giving him her full attention, and that meant a lot to him, to actually have someone listen for the rare occasion he decided to open up. He repayed her by listening to her talk about Portland, not that it was hard, he liked listening to her talk. She seemed so passionate about Portland, and she talked about the place in such a philosophical light. Most people would probably consider it pretentious, but Silas absolutely loved it. He loved listening to her talk, actually. He lifted the glass that they shared in her direction, as if inviting a clinking of glasses, "To Portland, if we ever find our way there again." He didn't mean to imply them traveling there together, but as he thought about it it did bring out a smile in him.

Silas didn't notice just how closely he has looking at Shira, he could only notice Shira. There was a moment of silence before Shira started to talk, Silas could probably have heard a pindrop if it weren't for the party still going strong downstairs, or is that his heartbeat? When Shira talked of her nervousness, it brought Silas back to the room they were in, he instinctively adjusted his posture, nothing drastic, just remembering where he was. He had a hint of worry from what she whispered, he would want nothing less than to make her uncomfortable, but after she corrected herself it took a little bit off the stress of his shoulders, but just a bit. "Sorry," he copied her hushed tone, "there's just something about you. A good thing." He hated being so vague, he felt like she deserved more, "You intrigue me." The room around him couldn't help but fade once more as he made eye contact when he talked.

This short moment between them, the whipsering and the feeling of confidentiality, like the intimacy of a confession booth, was a strange feeling to Silas. A feeling he hasn't felt often. "Thank you," he liked knowing she was entertained by him, liked knowing he was good enough. At least for a conversation, "You're not too bad yourself, Shira." Saying her name in a such a hushed tone was even stranger. Like it was more intoxicating than the drink or smoke he's had moments earlier.