#sharing my “R with long hair” truth

[bernard-the-rabbit]

not me changing eponine design everytime i draw her :P

[feirceangel]

Imagine | Protect (Luffy)

Imagine guarding Luffy’s hat.

Warnings: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,224

(Not my gif)

There is something you are one hundred percent certain of. In a life plagued with precariousness and anxiety, there is one truth you can always cling to.

And that is the fact that your captain, Monkey D. Luffy, always has your back.

No matter what situation you find yourself in, he never fails to brighten your day with a smile and defeat whatever foe you're facing.

Whether you're homesick, bored, or literally having your life threatened, he's always right by your side.

He guards each of his crew with a vigour that only he can. His warm smile brighter than a thousand suns as he celebrates yet another victory.

There is another thing you're certain of.

That your captain has one treasure more precious than any of his other objects.

His straw hat.

Given to him by the infamous Red-Haired Shanks, Luffy values that hat above all else.

Even at the cost of his own safety.

There's been countless times where you've watched in horror as Luffy was struck but managed to keep one hand firmly atop his hat.

It never got easier seeing him battle men quadruple his size and strength. Your stomach would clench with worry and you'd do your best to help battle the other opponents, but you always felt so helpless.

Watching him take on such intense foes made you feel proud of him and also concerned for his well being.

Although now that you've been sailing as a Straw Hat Crew member for months, you've come to realize that your captain can take on anything.

His hat, less so.

So, here you sit, quietly mending his hat as Luffy gapes at your handiwork.

"Awesome!" He grins, face alight with joy, "You're good at this, Y/n!"

"I'm just glad you're okay," you confess, carefully stitching away.

It's no secret how you feel about Luffy: everyone on the crew knows about your crush. And you have confidence that Luffy feels the same way.

It's in the little things he does. Always finding an excuse to hug you, explore new islands with you, and even share his food with you. And he never shares his food with anyone else.

So, it's safe to say he at least likes you.

He laughs, "You need to stop worrying so much!"

"You need to stop getting beat up!" You fire back, finishing your stitch. "Seriously, I'm starting to think you like pain."

He laughs, "I don't! But I got him in the end, Y/n! That's all that matters."

You sigh and motion for him to bow his head. He does and you gently set his hat back in its rightful place.

He grins up at you, "Thanks, Y/n! Let's go see if Sanji's done making supper!"

Luffy snatches your hand in his as soon as you drop your needle into your sewing kit. He drags you into the kitchen, using his devil fruit power to snatch up an apple.

"Sanji," he mumbles around a mouthful of fruit, "When's food gonna be ready? I'm hungry."

"Not yet," the cook shakes his head. "I need thirty more minutes."

Luffy groans loudly, leaning his head on your shoulder, "That's too long!"

"You have to wait!"

Luffy scrunches his nose in annoyance before dragging you outside again. Once there, he shoves the apple near your mouth, "Have a bite!"

You're surprised he hasn't eaten it all already. Opening your mouth, you take a large bite of the tangy goodness, humming your approval.

"Thanks," you start to mumble but he stops you mid sentence by leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

A furious heat flushes your face at his abrupt actions.

"W-what was that for?"

He grins and swipes his tongue over his mouth, "You had juice on your lips."

You're floored, unable to respond as the kiss replays in your head. Meanwhile, he's already walking away with a giddy giggle.

~

You watch with bated breath as Luffy's hat goes flying.

He's fighting a particularly strong foe, having to use all his focus on the battle.

Without a second thought, you race after his treasure, determined to keep it safe for him. He's always doing so much for you, so you want to return the favour.

The other Straw Hats are occupied, no one noticing as you slip away to chase after the stray hat. A strong wind has blown it quite the distance, and you find it stuck on a tree branch.

You grab it, turning on your heel to trudge back to the main fight. But there's a problem.

A large group of marines stand in front of you, each one wearing a menacing grin.

"Look who we have here," the supposed leader comments, stepping forwards.

You instinctively hide Luffy's hat behind your back, grinning back ferociously.

"Gentlemen, what are you doing so far from the real fight?"

"Could ask you the same," he sneers. "What's that behind your back? Is it the infamous Straw Hat Luffy's straw hat?"

Your grip on the straw tightens.

"You're in charge of safeguarding it huh? Is that all you're good for?"

They laugh amongst themselves.

"I wonder if they'd kick you out if you failed the one task they gave you," he steps forward again.

"Over my dead body," you hiss, taking out your weapon after securing the hat to your belt. "If this hat is destroyed, then I have no reason to go on."

Before they can make the first move, you've taken down two of them, angered at their words and fuelled with the desire to protect Luffy's treasure.

The fight goes on too long.

Outnumbered, you take hits that knock you down and leave you bloodied and bruised. Maybe even with a few broken bones.

By now, you're on the ground, clutching the hat in your bloodied hands as a torrent of kicks fall on your back.

You took down well over half the marines but the few remaining are mad as hell and taking it out on you.

You barely register the outraged cry of your captain as he shouts, "Gum-Gum Gatling!"

The kicks stop as your attackers go flying, landing with dull thuds. They don’t get back up again.

Luffy is quick to rush to your side, “Y/n! Are you alright?!”

“Luffy,” you manage a small smile, shakily handing him his hat. “I protected your treasure.”

He doesn’t smile, in fact he looks angry.

“Idiot! You’re my treasure,” he shouts, gripping onto your shoulders, “And now you’re hurt!”

Confused, you stare up into his eyes, “But you love this hat.”

“But I love you more,” he shakes you again before screaming for Chopper to come and assess the damage done to you.

After you’re back on the ship, nicely bandaged and safe in bed, Luffy approaches you again. He seems less energetic than normal, dragging his feet as he comes to the bed.

“Thank you for protecting my hat. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you.”

“Luffy,” you gently clasp his hand, “You’ve always protected me.”

His eyes are wet with tears, “But-“

“I couldn’t ask for a better captain,” you reiterate, pulling him closer. “You’re all I could hope for.”

“Really?”

“Honest,” you smile, “Now come here.”

You drag him into your arms, wincing slightly. He is cautious of your injuries, gently returning your hug.

“Thank you.”

[janeyseymour]

longing looks and stolen glances

summary: anon asked for this: Hi, idk if you're still taking requests but could you write something where Mel finds out R like her back and then they're all silly and sneaking around, stealing kisses, glances and a brush of fingers every chance they get, like absolute fluff? And then the other teachers start to notice how smug Mel looks, specifically around R? I love your fics!!

WC: ~2.15k

There was no way this way happening- and yet it was. The Melissa Schemmenti has you pressed up against your desk and is kissing you hungrily. It takes a second for your brain to jumpstart before your arms snake around her waist and pull her in closer to you. Her lingering perfume scent nearly has you in a trance. The way that she only pulls you even closer to her own body is… how is this where you are right now? This has to be some sort of dream.

But it isn’t. When you finally pull back in desperate need of air, red hair and green eyes are still right in front of you. Almost as if you’re expecting to be woken up from your dream, you pinch yourself. You squeak a bit, and that deep laugh that you’re always craving to hear echoes throughout the empty room.

“Think you’re dreaming or something?” your colleagues deep voice chuckles out.

You just nod, a blush creeping into your cheeks. “I didn’t think… is this real life?”

“It very much is,” Melissa rolls her eyes playfully. “I’ve had enough of that one camera man flirting with you.” She gives him a pointed look, as if to say, ‘Back off. She’s mine now.’

He nearly cowers.

You just laugh and pull her in again. “So… dinner?”

And that’s how the two of you started dating. After a brief meeting with the camera crew, they’re sworn to secrecy on your relationship. A threat that all of their equipment will somehow go missing and the documentary will no longer be a thing is enough for them to all promise the two of you that they won’t air any explicit evidence that the two of you are together.

“I don’t even want lingering looks,” Melissa states.

The camera man shakes his head at that. “Then maybe the two of you shouldn’t constantly be ogling each other. We’ve picked up on this for weeks, and Jeremiah flirting with Y/N was only a tactic to get the two of you to get your heads out of your asses. If this worked with the two of you… we’re wondering if it might do anything to finally get Gregory and Janine to face the truth of their relationship.”

“Jeremiah wasn’t really flirting with me?” you sound almost wounded. A light smack to your shoulder has you feigning hurt.

“Listen, Y/N,” the camera man laughs. “As beautiful as you are, you are not my type at all. And, I really don’t want the shit to get kicked out of me by your woman.”

As if to prove a point, your girlfriend wraps an arm around you and practically growls out a, “Mine,” before kissing your temple.

And so, your relationship stays a secret. Your girlfriend does everything she can to keep your relationship in this little bubble that the two of you have created. There isn’t any flirting (any flirting that could easily be detected by your friends and coworkers), you keep everything behind closed doors.

There are lingering kisses in the classroom when you’re positive that no cameras are around. You still sit with her and Barbara at lunch and at meetings so as not to throw off the groove that you’ve found yourself in. Sometimes, you’ll feel a feather light touch or a squeeze of the hand when Ava says something particularly ridiculous, but you’re able to keep your face straight, and no one is the wiser to these intimate moments that the two of you secretly share.

But as time goes on, it’s getting harder and harder to conceal the bond that the two of you have. At this point, you’re getting ready to move your things into her apartment permanently (as if you haven’t practically been living with her for months- you have a drawer of your things at her place), the two of you are often together after work and on weekends, and you’ve even been to a few of her family dinners.

“You bringing over a few more boxes tonight?” your girlfriend asks you as you enter the staff room. It alarms you that she would bring this up so casually, but then you realize that she is the only one at the school besides you.

You nod brightly and kiss her quickly, as if someone would walk in on you at any given moment.

“I was planning on it,” you chuckle. Then you pull away from her, although her fingers stay gently interlaced with yours. “Coffee?”

She nods enthusiastically and begins to pluck the mugs from their place. You let yourself watch her figure for a few seconds before you hear the door swing open and Jacob announce his entrance. Your eyes immediately flit down to the coffee grounds in your hand, and your body turns red at the thought that you might have just been caught staring at the second grade teacher’s ass. Thankfully though, you were not caught.

“Ooh!” Jacob grins at the sight of Melissa reaching for coffee cups. “Deal me in!”

You scoop a few more grinds out and dump them into the coffee machine before filling it with water and waiting for the warm drink to be ready. Meanwhile, Melissa fixes her cup so the cream and sugar are already in her cup, and she does the same for you.

You give her a sweet smile when she hands over your cup, and your heart can’t help but flutter when she squeezes your hip gently while Jacob is turned away.

She can’t help the smug grin off her face when the social studies teacher turns back around.

“Hey, why’d you do Y/N’s cup, but not mine?” Jacob whines, almost like a child.

“Because Y/N ain’t particular about hers the way that you are.” Green eyes are rolled. There is no truth in that statement whatsoever. You are extremely particular about how your coffee is prepared, but after many mornings of coffee shared between the two of you Melissa has learned. 

Jacob continues to pout, but he does nod along. It’s funny the way that he’s so wrapped up in his pouting that he misses the way you kiss her cheek and thank her softly.

The rest of the crew starts to trickle in, so you and your girlfriend take up your seats to watch the news together. At home, she almost always has her arm draped around the back of the couch, and you lean into her figure as you practically inhale the liquid gold that you need in order to function. But here? She still has her arm draped over the edge of the couch, but you don’t lean into her. Sure, you sit next to her, but you don’t let yourself relax into her. Instead, she quietly draws circles and different patterns on your shoulder as you and your friends watch the news. It’s warm and familiar, and something that you aren’t entirely expecting her to do with your colleagues so close, but you let that smile wash over your face. Her smug grin only brightens when she truly realizes everybody is so wrapped up in the news that they fail to notice. 

While things have begun to become more relaxed with the two of you out in public, you still haven’t outwardly said anything about the relationship between the two of you. It’s like if you speak it into existence, the bubble will pop. So, you continue to just do things a bit more subdued with the crew around. 

The two of you know that whenever you’re at the school, there is pretty much a guarantee that you’re being filmed in one way or another- except for in the safe haven of the bathrooms. So often, you and Melissa sneak away to the staff bathrooms to steal a few kisses or discuss plans for after work.

But to everyone else, you’re just two peas in a pod- the way that you have been. You still sit together and lunch, in the morning, at staff meetings… have your classes do a few things together throughout the year.

Or at least… that’s what you think. The two of you think that you’re hiding this relationship wonderfully. Honestly, at this point, neither of you would care if they were to find out. It’s kind of become common knowledge outside of work that the two are you together, so you both forget to come out to your work friends entirely. You just know that even if you were out at work, the looks and touches would still be relatively rare- keep things as professional as possible.

The truth is, the others have begun to pick up on things. They’ve noticed that you’re almost always following Melissa around with the look of a puppy dog. They’ve taken into consideration that she always fixes your coffee mug- no one else’s, not even Barb’s. They see the way that instead of directing looks that would normally be shot to the camera are instead stolen glances between the two of you. They aren’t as dense as they’re playing to be- there is something going on between the two of you.

And Barbara Howard is going to get to the bottom of it.

There is one day specifically, during professional development, where the two of you are practically glued to each other- and unbeknownst to them, it’s been exactly six months since the two of you started dating.

The longing looks, the little squeezes here and there, it’s all so… domestic. Even just sitting in the library as Ava drones on about only God knows what, the two of you are like giggling school girls, making excuses to touch and look at each other.

And then when you’re all excused for the afternoon to work on whatever you have to do in your classrooms, Melissa is guiding you out with a tender hand on the small of your back. You instinctively reach behind you and give her hand a light squeeze of endearment.

Of course, the two of you cozy up in her classroom, fully ready to finish up on some grading that you’re behind on. Fingers are interlocked as you grade and she types on her computer with one hand while Barbara rounds up the rest of the group.

“You all have noticed that Y/N and Melissa are quite cozy together, yes?” the kindergarten teacher asks her friends as they take their lunch break.

“Someone jealous their work wife is taken with the newbie?” Mr. Johnson asks.

“Not jealous,” Barbara sighs. “Just… curious. I think the two of them are hiding something from us.”

The camera crew all glance around. They wouldn’t interfere- not unless they wanted their cameras to go missing. So instead, they just pull each of the staff members out to interview them separately.

And together, everyone is convinced that the redheaded teacher and you are up to something- that there’s something going on between the two of you.

Mr. Johnson flat out tells the camera crew that he knows you’re dating. That he watched you kiss Melissa as you were heading out of her classroom one day.

So, with that, the crew decides to push this storyline a bit- they still aren’t outwardly telling your colleagues of the relationship, but just… implying that maybe this is something they should investigate further.

And they do. Nothing comes out that day, but the rest of your friend group is on high alert when the two of you are around. They continue to play dumb, to not notice the little lingering looks, the touches, the way that Melissa couldn’t be more smug when she’s around you.

They pretend as if they couldn’t be clued in at all until one day, a few months later, Barbara has had enough. You and Melissa are sharing lunch, and her hand rests gently on your upper thigh as you converse about your mornings.

“For God’s sake, ladies,” Barbara finally explodes. “Can we stop ignoring the obvious?!”

“Barb, what?” you flinch slightly at her tone. You feel Melissa pull her hand away.

“The two of you!” the kindergarten teacher exclaims. “I can’t take any more pretending that we don’t all know that you’re together! So, out with it!”

Melissa’s face turns red as she looks to you. “Babe?”

“Babe?!” Jacob screeches. “You two are at the point of calling each other ‘babe’?!”

Realization dawns on your face. You never told your work friends. It had become so… normal that you just forgot to tell your coworkers that the two of you were together. “We- we never told you guys.”

“No, you most certainly did not!” Barbara states. “So, admit it! The two of you are seeing each other romantically!”

You look sheepishly at the redhead, as if asking for permission for your next move. At her nod, you hold up your left hand. “Not only are we together… we got engaged last night.”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo

[kamfor334]

manifested my desired appearance!

hi guys! I know I haven’t posted in a while, this is just a little post about my manifestations, I manifested my desired appearance!

to be honest, when I think about this experience one thing is that this reminded me how EZ manifesting really is. When I first started to manifest my desired appearance, I thought it would be harder, and I would have to put in a lot more work. But, now looking back, this helped me realize that manifesting is simple, and instant. We are constantly manifesting naturally, and it isn’t that complicated or hard.

how it happened

It’s kinda funny how, people always say manifestation is instant (cus it is) but you genuinely to remember or realize until you see that you ACTUALLY have your results so quickly, and before you even realize. Tbh, I didn’t even really count or keep track of “how long it took”, since I find that constantly checking for results kinda deters me or messes with my mindset. I realized I had manifested my desired appearance when I was looking in the mirror today, low-key surprised me. My hair is thick, longer, my curls look the exact same as the photos from my vision board. My lashes are thicker, longer, my lips are pinker, plumper, ect, ect. I also noticed my body. I didn’t change my height (cause I didn’t want to) but, I look super cute!

After this, now I wanna manifest clear, soft smooth skin a lot more persistent, because me skin has been getting clearer and softer, but I’m not at my desired goal, however, I have seen a noticeable difference in my skin 🤭

also, people commented on it. I’ve been getting lots of comments on my body by my friends, telling me my body is tea, complementing my waist ect. And another thing I can remember is going to the convenience store with my mom, and this lady complementing my hair, and my mom pointing out my long, soft hair, and literally telling me word for word that I have4b hair 🤭

what I manifested

you don’t have to read this if you don’t want to but, I just wanna talk about what I manifested 🤭

White, straight teeth, pretty smile.

longer, thicker manga like lashes, wide, black beady doe eyes.

plump, pink, soft lips

more prominent dimples

Slimmer, oval face shape.

4b, defined healthy curls hair.

longer hair.

pear shaped body, slim, flat, soft waist, round plump bubble butt, r plump, round thighs and hips.

slim arms, collar bones, back and neck.

how did I did it!

well, for one, I said affirmations when ever I could, and whenever I had doubtful thoughts I would counteract it with a affirmation and try to take a deep breath and remind myself manifesting is easy, simple and instant, and that I literally already have, before I even fully realize.

I created a vision board. with pictures for visualization, written affirmations. I really like this form of manifestation cause you can look at it before bed, read it in your free time, visualize and affirm while you look at it.

looking in mirrors. I know a lot of people say not to look into mirrors when manifesting a physical change, but for me it helps. For some reason, looking in mirrors makes affirming a lot more fun and makes me feel more confident, like while I’m looking in the mirror I’ll say “I’m so pretty. ☺️” “I’m literally so beautiful, it’s so mesmerizing.” “I have such a cute, small waist” and is makes acknowledging my affirmations as truth lot easier, and it makes me feel so confident to admire myself. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to tho, or if it doesn’t work for you.

That’s it! I love youuuuuu

sorry this is long, I was just really excited to share my results. 😭

remember that manifesting is literally so easy and simple, we literally do it all the time without even realizing, and manifesting is instant.

[a-pute11as]

oppositions

summary - this ask. r and lena have never seen eye to eye, every time they're on the opposing each other on the pitch it ends in an argument but a joint night out with bayern and wolfsburg ends in an long-awaited interaction.

warnings - 18+ MDNI suggestive smut

words - 1474

“what the fuck is wrong with you” you hiss, looking up at lena whilst clutching at your ankle.

“you ran at me” she shrugged, “should’ve looked where you were going” she added with an eye roll.

“you literally stuck your leg out for me to trip on, are you trying to get yourself a red card?” you asked, rubbing your ankle where the pain originated. 

she practically laughed, “how much do you want to bet the ref didn’t see” she mocked with a pout.

the ref made her way over to the two of you, pulling her yellow card out and angling it towards the wolfsburg player, somehow your protests weren’t heard from your position on the floor. 

lena walked away, clearly not bothered by the consequence, whilst you remained where you were until the medical team were called over. a few of your fellow teammates had come over to check on you, agreeing that lena should’ve been given a red card for her actions. after some cold spray you were back on your feet and ready to finish the game.

the game ended 2-1 with bayern winning, and it was even better when you scored a goal not long after lena’s ‘dodgy’ tackle. 

you and lena always had an intense rivalry, but it mainly spouted from the england v germany euros 22 final, where a small argument broke out between the two of you after the final whistle had blown. you had joined bayern in january 2023 after wanting a new opportunity. there always seemed to be some kind of argument between you and lena when you were opposing each other, but she never took it as far as purposely tripping you over.

“i’m sorry” lena mumbled as your hands met in a semi-respectful high five at the end of the game.

“what was that?” you teased, grabbing onto her hand to stop the two of you in your tracks.

“i’m sorry, that was too far of me, you played a good game” she confessed, avoiding eye contact as she spoke.

“you played a good game too” you admitted, “did giulia tell you where we are going tonight?”.

somehow there was always a recurring night out anytime bayern played wolfsburg, mostly because it was a big reunion of a lot of the germany national team players, but it was always quite fun to join in. 

“she did, i’ll keep my distance, don’t worry” lena said awkwardly, as if she was infringing on something when she was practically handed an invite. you nodded before continuing to high five other plays before celebrating with your team.

there wasn’t a problem with lena coming, you enjoyed seeing a more relaxed side of her and somehow you didn’t want to argue with her when you saw her off the pitch. in fact you had a more opposite reaction to seeing her letting her hair down, you urged to speak to her, to actually get to know her, and you’d be lying if you didn’t think that she looked incredibly good. 

a couple hours passed and you were sat in your shared apartment with georgia, getting yourself ready for an assumingly eventful night. georgia had always made you aware of your behaviour on nights out, especially the out of pocket comments you made when a certain midfielder was brought up. the best being a team bonding night that ended in a truth or dare game, in which you were asked ‘who's an opposition player that you wouldn’t mind spending the night with?’ and unfortunately the alcohol allowed a certain name to slip from your lips causing relentless teasing.

“will tonight be the night?” georgia asked, as she picked up her phone, signally she was ready to leave. she asked the same question every time one of these nights out occured. 

“shut up g, nothing will happen” you rolled my eyes, finishing tying your laces before standing up from the sofa. 

“well a little birdie told me that lena may have let a confession slip during a germany camp” she hinted, a smirk across her face. 

“wait what?” you questioned, raising your eyebrows and laughing slightly, “she must’ve been drunk or something because there’s no way” you insisted.

“nope” she popped the p, “she was stone cold sober which means she wants you… big time”.

you stood in the shared living space, eyes wide open in shock at the information. as georgia exited the apartment you were quick to snap back in reality to join her.

luckily the club was close so it didn’t take long to arrive but as soon as you entered, your eyes automatically scanned the venue. as much as you could deny that you weren’t looking for her, you definitely were. 

the vip area had been reserved for the two teams, meaning there was more than enough space for the two teams to mingle, get marginally drunk and dance without the repercussions of prying eyes. your eyes still scanned the area in hopes they would find the one person you were searching for, and when you did your heart rate picked up. she was wearing black wide leg cargo trousers, a white shirt which fit her perfectly and a green over-shirt, it was as if the clothes she wore were made for her. her hair cascaded down her shoulders, perfectly framing her face. it felt as if you’d gotten lost whilst looking at her, completely fixed at admiring her from a far. 

and then her eyes met yours and your heart almost stopped for a minute. a smirk appeared across her face, her tongue flicking over her bottom lip as her eyes traveled up and down my body. you were quick to avert your gaze, grabbing your drink which rested on the table in front of you, quickly throwing it back and letting the taste hit the back of your throat.

that interaction was all you needed to take up anyone’s offer on taking a shot or being bought a drink. It didn’t take long for the drinks to increase your confidence, meaning you were taking the phrase ‘dance like nobody's watching’ very seriously. then you felt a pair of hands grip onto your waist from behind, you didn’t even bother to look assuming it was just georgia coming back from getting herself another drink or sam telling you to slow down. 

“enjoying yourself?” she asked, leaning closer, her breath hot against your ear. you nodded in response as your slow dancing alone turned into grinding against your opposing team’s star midfielder. 

it didn’t take long for her to use her strategically placed hands to turn you around so you were facing her, your hands automatically made their way around her neck as hers tightened at your waist. there was an unspoken tension between the two of you, like one of those ‘will they? won’t they?’ situations. but this is something you definitely wanted to happen. 

“it’s like you’re doing this to me on purpose” she knew exactly what you were doing, but that didn’t stop her hands from traveling up and down your body. 

“what if i am? would it be a problem, lena?” you teased, pressing further into her.

a small groan escaped her lips, “don’t tease me like that, you don’t know what you do to me”.

you giggled at her response, satisfied with the reaction you gained from her “why’s it taken you so long to admit that” 

“i didn’t know you felt the same, well not until giulia told me after the game” she confessed, her hands now sitting underneath the hem of your t-shirt, circling your bare back.

“are you going to do something about that?” you asked, tilting your head as your eyes flicked to her lips and then back to her eyes again. 

“is that okay with you?” she questioned, mimicking your action, her hand moving up to cup your jaw. you were quick to nod in response. 

she leaned in, her lips hovering over yours for a split second before crashing into them, unleashing the built up tension into a passionate battle that had her winning easily as she led the intense kiss, her tongue slipping into your mouth with ease. the moment felt like it lasted a lifetime, being caught up in each other's bodies, pressing against each other, finally being able to release pent up feelings. the interaction was separated by a round of cheering and applause from each of your teammates. you pulled apart, your cheeks instantly flashing a deep shade of red as lena flipped off the surrounding individuals.

“let's go back to yours, you’ve started something and i’m not letting it go unfinished” she was quick to grab your hand, swiftly leading you out of the club before signaling for a taxi.

this certainly wouldn’t be a night you’d forget anytime soon. 

a/n : thank you for the ask anon <33

[the-fiction-witch]

Secret Visits

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Lady Y/n (Betrothal) Rating - Flirty AF (Mentions of Smut) Word Count - 1582

Prince Jacaerys stood in the main hall of Dragonstone, his Maester long abandoned him to go and deal with other matters. The fire below caused the glow of the painted table his hands leant against, the light of the sunny afternoon cascading through the tall windows. He did his best not to glance at his high Valriyan books trying to recount them by himself.

“Se se rōvēgrie lords teptan bē pōja vōljesi, declaring naejot aegon hae dārys” ‘And the great lords gave up their crows, declaring to Aegon as king’

Lady Y/n chuckled as she entered from the side, she walked closer in a gown of blood Targaryen red embroidered with black metallic dragon scales, her hair in a long braid,

"Pōja gelti" ‘Their Crowns’ she corrected him,

Jacaerys raises his head and meets the gaze of Lady Y/n. Her voice brings a smile to his lips, He stands and straightens his back, his eyes admiring his betrothal. "Ahh, Lady Y/n," he says with a slight bow. "Yes, you're right. Sorry, I'm still trying to improve my Valyrian. Gelti, of course. You- you look radiant today."

"Thank you Prince Jacaerys," she cooed, "it is no need to apologise, you are learning. It is your timetable trial and fail," she smiled as she walked past him, stroking her hand across his shoulders before she ran it over the ridges of the table,

He smiled warmly at her, his gaze following hers, "You're too kind," he said. "Yes, it's all trial and error. But it's worth it. This language is part of our heritage as Valyrians. We must preserve it."

"Indeed we must, there is much of old valyria that is gone now. The shreds that remain must be protected." She said her fingers stroking across dragon stone on her painted table map "Language is often first to falter in these things, as it is so ever-changing. There were one hundred of languages in Westeros now there are barely three in use,"

Jacaerys nodded in agreement, his eyes watching her fingers tracing the map and lingering on Dragonstone he knew what she meant Dragonstone was the seat formed by their ancestors and all in it down to the smallest brick needed to be preserved. He couldn't deny the truth in her words. "Language has a way of evolving and fading, especially in times of upheaval," he replied. "It's true that the number of languages in Westeros has diminished over time. It's a shame to lose such rich and varied traditions, as they often hold the stories and wisdom of our ancestors."

"mmm... Many of our ancestors have concealed secrets of our history." She said so matter of factly as if she knew, "We must never rob our future, of the knowledge of our past." She turned looking over her shoulder at him, "Even secrets we wish to conceal," she looked at him her eyes sharply making eye contact,

"Indeed," Jacaerys replied, a little shaky. His heart beat a little faster, sensing the weight of her words. "Secrets and knowledge have power, and we have a responsibility to wield them wisely," he said. "But some secrets are better kept than shared. There's a fine line between preserving history and revealing truths that could have consequences."

Y/n chuckled, "and you wouldn't know if any such secrets? Would you Prince Jacaerys?"

Jacaerys didn't break eye contact, in fact making a point not to as he thought it would make him look like he was lying so he didn’t blink for a good few seconds. "P-Perhaps I do, perhaps I don't," he replied, "But even if I did, the value of a secret lies in its concealment. Wouldn't you agree, my lady?"

she chuckled, “se skoros lo nyke massitas naejot gīmigon mēre hen aōha byka secrets ñuha dārilaros” "and what if I happened to know one of your little secrets my prince?"

Jacaerys' heart skipped a beat as she spoke to him. Her words sent a familiar chill down his spine. He responded as best he could, “Se skoros secret would bona sagon, ñuha riña?” "And what secret would that be, my lady?" he asked,

she took her time to walk slowly to him letting his eyes linger on her, an evil smile across her lips, when she was close enough he could smell her rose perfume, she moved closer whispering so close he could feel her breath on his ear "I know you've been sneaking though the castle late at night, I know you've been entering my room whilst I sleep... And I know what you've been doing while you're there." She pressed a kiss to his cheek before she stepped back meeting his eyes

Jacaerys' heart nearly stopped, her breath tickled his ear. He froze, his eyes widening in shock. How could she know? He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

"Wha- I don't know what you're talking about, my lady," he attempted to deny, but the flush in his cheeks betrayed his panic. "I would never-"

"I know Jacaerys."

Jacaerys felt caught, his secret exposed and his denial ineffective. He could see the knowledge in her eyes, and he was at a loss for words. He clenched his jaw, the silence between them filled with tension. After a long moment, he spoke again, his voice quiet and strained. "How... How long have you known?"

"a week" she answered

A week. The revelation hit Jacaerys like a punch to the gut. All this time, she had known, and he had been none the wiser. He let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding. "And you... You didn't say anything?" he asked, his voice tinged with both relief and disbelief. "Why?"

she chuckled "You seemed to be enjoying yourself"

Jacaerys felt the heat rise to his cheeks. He had believed he was stealthy, yet she had known all along. The thought of her silently watching him, letting him continue... It was both mortifying and strangely thrilling. "So... you knew and you didn't say anything," he repeated, still trying to digest this information. "And you let me continue..."

"you seemed to be enjoying it so much, I didn't want to disturb you, after all... You were so gentle and sweet,"

Jacaerys' heart thundered in his chest at her words. "Sweet" and "gentle." It was more than he had expected. He looked at her, his eyes betraying a mixture of shame and fascination. "Did... Did you not mind, then?" he asked, the question hanging heavy between them.

"I mind you not asking." She chuckled "But I think it's cute the prince of Dragonstone, is so very smitten with his betrothal he can't even wait till the wedding and has to sneak into her bed chambers at night to watch her sleep and touch himself over her," she cooed tickling his chin,

Jacaerys' face flushed scarlet as her words hit him. She had seen everything, heard everything. His secret desires and shameful indulgences. The realization and the humiliation hit him like a tidal wave. He swallowed hard, trying to regain some composure. "I... I don't know what to say," he muttered, his voice almost a whisper. "It's not that I don't want to wait. I just... I just can't help myself..." He looked up at her, a mixture of shame and defiance in his gaze. He was tired of pretending, tired of denying himself what he truly wanted. "It's just... you're so beautiful and so close, and I... I can't help it. I know it's wrong. I know I'm weak. But you don't understand the effect you have on me..."

"aww aren't you sweet, it's alright Jace" she took his hand in hers and kissed his forehead “Our little secret"

Jacaerys felt the tension in him ease a little as she took his hand and kissed his forehead, her words like a soothing balm. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the gentle press of her lips against his skin, before looking up at her. "Our secret," he said softly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"your not weak to be impatient, we have been betrothed now for three years it's understandable you'd grow impatient in time. It's alright you can visit as much as you like"

Jacaerys' heart leapt at her words. He hadn't expected her to be so understanding, so willing to turn a blind eye to his transgressions. Yet here she was, making it possible for him to continue his nighttime visits. "Are you... are you sure?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief and hope.

"if they make you happy," she nodded "Perhaps tell me when you plan to visit so I can ensure I have nice sheets" she chuckled "and perhaps my sweet betrothal could... Leave me some flowers when he's done?" She cooed

Jacaerys' heart skipped a beat as he absorbed her words. She seemed almost pleased at the prospect of his visits, and the idea of leaving her flowers... It was a sweet, intimate gesture that made his heart race even faster. He smiled, a genuine, grateful smile. "Of course," he promised. "I'll let you know when I plan to come, and I'll leave you the most beautiful flowers each time."'

"then I shall look forward to your next visit my prince" she cooed kissing his cheek before she went to leave

Jacaerys nodded, a strange mixture of relief and excitement coursing through him. He watched as she left, his mind processing the conversation and her unexpected acceptance of his nightly visits. As she exited the chamber, he found himself looking forward to his next secret visit, already mentally selecting which flowers to leave for her.

[freakassfemme]

MWAH wishing u a speedy recovery!!!!! listen u always do my requests sm justice YOU JUST GET IT, i will always crawl back into ur askbox i am patiently waiting while kicking my feet :3

original ask YOU ARE SO SWEET! I appreciate you. here u go, i have brought you a gift <3 unfortunately my only explanation to 'getting it' is that I am always having or striving to have filthy nasty lesbian and queer interactions. or I am writing or reading about it. my sole purpose on this earth is to curate queer experiences. hope that helps <3 btw I wrote this from 6 - 9 am so bare with me wc: 2.9k warnings: metaphorically consuming each other as a form of desire, yeah I know I switched present/past tense its a bad habit of mine but I *don't care* nor do I care about consistent capitalization, I'm crazy for this woman obviously, rough sex, f/f, vagina/breast anatomy, biting, overstimulation, crying, maybe I get a little too poetic about gay sex, proof read by only me one singular time and it was mainly to see if the music fit the vibe, penetration, scissoring, I love pussy, orgasm denial x1 (?), slight size kink and worship but really that's in all my fics

see how it shines [smut] ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ

playlist: it will come back / be / abstract (psychopomp)

(yeah we r bringing hozier into this </3)

eighteen fucking hours. that's how long you'd been clocked in at the medical bay for what seemed to have been maybe the third or fourth time this week, and it was only Thursday.

the truth was, medics and doctors were dropping like flies these days, going AWOL and leaving the remaining staff to work what would need twenty sets of hands with maybe seven or eight. with the seraphites becoming more aggressive everyday, the peace in the stadium and other bases for the WLF had been short-lived, and many understandably weren't holding up well to the pressure, especially with the way the cleanup crews had been hauling back nonstop truckloads of friends and loved ones, and requests to be stationed elsewhere other than the stadium and two were immediately denied at this point.

so yeah, you were pretty fucking tired. at this point in the staffing shortage, they were having to send the folks on watch on additional rounds just to bring food to medics, on duty or at home, because they were simply too exhausted to go down to dining.

no one even acknowledged you as your blood and mud-ridden boots skidded across the concrete floors, your eyes practically closed even as you walked through crowds to get back to your dorm. the soldiers, civilians and staff alike parted like water around you, making an avoidant path and trying not too hard to look at you or the posters on the wall, outright begging people to sign up for medical classes.

you kicked the food delivery box inside of your dorm as you unlocked it, hands fumbling with your forehead pressed against the cold metal. inside, you quickly stripped out of your uniform top and boots, and crashed out on the couch.

abby herself was exhausted when she trudged into your shared living space hours after you, having just come off of a 48 hour rotation. her eyes wandered over the little trail of belongings leading to you on the couch, the boots left a few steps after the other, your button up discarded over the railing and the abandoned delivery box just a few feet from the door, which she didn't notice until she nearly slipped over it, causing a loud thump that had her wincing.

her eyes flicked to you, where she could only see the back of your head, and when she decided you weren't going to stir, she let out a sigh of relief and began stripping herself of her own uniform.

on her way over to the bathroom, she stopped next to you, taking in your splayed out form. your hair was a fucking mess, and you still had drops of (hopefully) someone else's blood across your forearms, one thrown against the back of the couch and the other hanging over the side. your pants were halfway undone, like you had tried an attempt that you decided wasn't worth the energy, and you looked pale as a ghost.

as much as abby wanted to let you sleep, wanted to let you get the rest you needed, she couldn't leave you like this. it'd been at least three days since she last saw you for more than a fleeting lunch break, and she couldn't find it in her to take care of herself and not you, especially when you had been eating away at yourself providing the undying care to strangers who wouldn't want to return it even in several lifetimes.

she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before she nodded, crouching down and grunting from the soreness of her own body as she scooped you up.

when you groaned and gave a small shove back, she hushed you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"c'mon, sweet girl, it's just me. i got you."

you hadn't put up much of a fight when abby propped you up on the sink. you leaned the back of your head against the mirror as she shimmied your pants and socks off of you, stripping your shirt and undergarments next until your cold skin was left against the glass and stainless steel, and you began to shudder. abby was quick about turning up the hot water in the shower though, allowing the steam fill the room before she helped you to your feet, letting you lean against her and whisper weak protests as you climbed into the hot shower.

instantly, you relaxed against her, and she ran her fingers through your hair, fully saturating the dirty strands as you sighed, wrapping your arms around her firm waist to steady yourself.

you stayed like that for a while, pressed against your girlfriend's tone form as you slowly collected your own strength, letting her gentle hands and soft voice lull you back from your weak state until you could help her wash you both up, even if it took a bit longer than usual.

"lean your head forward f'me, angel," abby murmured, one of her large palms warming up your spine with gentle caresses as she held a half-formed braid of your hair in the other. you obeyed quietly, letting abby tie back your now managed hair into something similar to how she usually kept hers, though she left her own loose.

when she was done, abby shifted closer behind you in the bed, her arms slipping underneath your borrowed shirt to hold you against her. she buried her face into your neck, letting you curl into her until you were turned on your side and entirely wrapped in her strong arms.

her nose nudged yours, and your eyes weakly fluttered open to meet abby's soft gaze, her seafoam eyes almost hauntingly bright against the cool illumination of the moonlit windows. it spooked you a bit, in all honesty, to have her this close to you again after so many days, days where you had considered the other possibilities in which she may come back to you.

you weren't any less unnerving to her -- she could tell you hadn't been eating nearly enough since she had been gone, and in just a few short days you already looked withered enough to drop like a limp daisy. your skin was ghostly, its usual warmth dampened from a lack of sunlight.

still, she was your girl, and you were hers, even in your worn states. and god, she had missed you.

abby's pine soap filled your nose as she pressed her lips into yours, the warm skin hesitant under your cool, cracked ones, and you accepted her gratefully, even if just for a moment it was as useless as whiskey on a winter night.

but then, of course, like any decent drink, the buzz hits.

and even though your limbs are screaming against you as you do so, your fingers curl into abby's loose hair, and you turn your head just a bit more. when you kiss back, abby's shyness, her gentleness quickly melts away, replenished by a hunger matching your own as you desperately search for more of her, pulling her against you like you hoped to swallow her whole.

your teeth crashed against her soft skin, tugging at her lip and making a slot for your tongue to force its way into her mouth. instantly, she shuddered, groaning into you in a way that you could feel the vibrations in her chest. it was like an open invitation, a warm meal laid out just for you, and you accepted it greedily.

you pulled abby on top of you by her hair, whining back when she moaned against your lips again. her own hand snaked up your body, squeezing at your thighs and hips as she fell on top of you, then pushing your oversized shirt over your chest, exposing your chest and making a clear pathway for herself. still, as starving as she was, she tried to take her time with you, wrapping her fingers around your jaw to hold you in place, and only stiffening up when you parted your legs, wrapping them around her and shoving your bare cunt against her firm stomach.

"wait," she whispered against your lips, "wait f'me, baby. let me have some."

you whine and protest as abby's strong arm holds you down by your throat, her other coming down to pin your fighting, impatient wrists to your stomach.

"baby, baby please," you're crying between broken moans as her tongue runs up your neck, stopping just so you can feel her heavy breathing against the shell of your ear when she slowly begins to work her hips against yours, the fabric of her boxers smearing your arousal across her thighs.

"fuck, baby I know," she groans, and if it wasn't for the way she gritted her teeth, you'd think she was annoyed rather than desperately holding herself together.

"abby, I --"

abby's hand on your jaw slips up some so she can shove two of her fingers in your mouth, and she lets out a stupid, desperate moan when she feels you choke around them for a second. then your eyes roll back just when she looks up, checking on her little angel, and she can't help but grunt louder, slamming her hips into your core in a way that makes you keen and your back arch, your smaller fists squeezing underneath her grip.

"god, shut up," she's practically begging as her hips rut into you. "please just, fuck, be quiet for a second, shit -"

she buries her face in your neck again, trying to satiate herself and regain some of her sanity, but your legs are now locked around her, pulling her against you in a way that has her clit brushing deliciously against the seam of her boxers. her head spins every time, and she lets out broken whines as she feels herself already tipping dangerously towards that edge as your body fights to consume her.

and god, it's torture for her, but for you, you just can't get enough. your fucking beast of a girlfriend trying so futilely to hold it together from just this stupid game of dry humping, when you're so, so willing to give her so much more.

let me have you, let me have you, you're chanting in your mind, your ankles pushing at the hem of abby's boxers.

you swallow around her fingers, and that seems to do it for her, granting you some edge as her other hand releases your wrists and flies to the side to hold herself up as her back arches against you with a loud groan.

your hands rush on to her back, your nails finding purchase just below her shoulder blades and ripping down the muscle until her fingers tear from your throat to slam against the bed and she stifles a cry by biting down on the base of your neck so hard that for a moment, you're worried she might draw blood.

"fuck," you rasp out against the pressure.

abby's shaking in your arms, moaning between the prettiest sobs as she gives in. she's pliant when your hands slip down to grab at her ass, and she lifts her hips to help you slip her boxers off, kicking them behind her.

she leans back, her blonde hair dripping onto your exposed tits. the cold water makes you shudder, and you let abby shove her bare cunt between your legs and slotting one thigh over you.

your lips fall in a open-mouthed gasp and she swears as her entrance rocks against your throbbing clit, one of her hands coming down to steady your hips and the other to hold her shirt up over her stomach so she can see the way you're making a mess of her thighs.

she stays there for a minute, brutalizing your bundle of nerves for her own pleasure. your head falls against the mattress, and you let out ridiculous whines, your hands fisting and slamming against the sheets below you, even coming up to claw at her strong thighs that kept you pinned so tightly in place.

"fuck, fuck, 's too much," you're choking out, and now it's your turn for the waterworks while abby only chuckles, laughing breathlessly as she presses down harder.

"no, no baby," she coos between her own moans, running her tongue over her teeth as she shudders. She slips her hips down some until you're fully rutting against each other again, the sheer wetness making it that much more difficult for your brain to process. "'s not, sweetheart, you can take it. i know you can baby."

you shake your head, and abby rolls her eyes, quickening her pace until your cheeks rouge and your whining grows. your hips twitch beneath her, uncontrollably bucking up to kiss her pussy again and again and again despite your pleas.

"what's wrong?" she purrs, her hand coming from your hips to run itself down from your neck, to your chest, to the back of your thigh. "thought you wanted it, thought you were begging for it, baby."

you whine again, shivering under her touch as she leans down, her mouth capturing the meat of your thigh as she rocks against you. she bites harder with each push and pull, and your tired body can't take it. it's too easy to get worked up for her like this.

"abs, ohmygod, stop, 'm gonna-"

abby's all to keen, knows exactly what you're going to say before you can even finish your sentence.

"shit, fuck, no you're not," abby grunts, ripping away from you in an instant.

your arched back hits the mattress with a full on sob, and you can feel your unsatisfied arousal leaking onto the sheets, the sickness between your thighs and on your stomach, the smell of abby, abby, abbyabbyabby until you jolt back up, letting out a small cry at the sudden impact against your clit.

she does it again and again, slapping your swollen cunt until your body is on the verge of cumming just from this. you're already so pent up, so touch-starved that you'd probably cum just from her biting you again, and she knows it, knows you're both like that right now.

your arms prop you up as one of her hands holds open your parted thighs, and her lips are consuming yours again as she growls with every spasm and whine she pulls from you. she doesn't stop until she really thinks you might burst, when you're starting to lift your hips for more instead of trying to hide away.

"god, you're filthy, baby," she groans against your mouth, and you only nod dumbly, knees shaking as you try to catch your breath. she's kneeling between your legs, ready to worship her sweet slice of heaven, ready to piece you back together.

abby's hand comes down gently this time, just the tip of her middle finger tracing over the mess between your legs until she's prodding it against your entrance so delicately that your brain nearly short-circuits.

she looks back up at you, her chest heaving from some sort of late-onset restraint and with such devotion filling her dilated eyes that you almost can't move, can't breathe. her eyes rake over you, holding every detail for an extra moment to commit it to memory, and when it's clear you're too awestruck by her, too overwhelmed by the sight of her poised in reverence, she speaks for you.

"gonna let me in, pretty girl?" abby asks, the words dripping off of her tongue like a velvety chocolate. you nod stupidly, your head bobbing in a way that's a little too eager, but she doesn't say anything about it.

instead, she hums, licking her lips as she wraps a hand around your head, pulling you so that her nose bumps against yours. abby presses her lips against yours, and one of your hands shakes as it finds its way up to grasp at her bicep. she's much more gentle this time, much more cautious as the tip of her finger begins to delve inside.

you pull away from her lips with a gasp when she intrudes, turning your face to hide it in your shoulder. you can't help but squeeze around the single digit, your knees already trembling.

"uh-uh," she tsks softly, her raspy voice echoing against your ear. she kisses your temple, and her hand slides down some to turn your face back towards her.

"let me see you," she whispers, sucking in a gasp as she pushes her finger farther into you, curving her palm to fit snugly against you.

your eyes flutter up to hers, almost shyly as you feel your ears burn and your eyes threaten to water as she holds your gaze. she nods when you do, curling her finger inside of you as she praises you, the ridges of your walls clinging to her finger so tightly that she's taking small, shallow breaths now.

"that's it," she murmurs, holding your head in place so you have to look at her. "that's my girl."

you let out a small whimper, the embarrassment running straight to your core as she begins to work her finger in and out, guiding it further each time until the base of her thumb glides over your clit. when it does, she groans, and can't help but push her hand harder against you until she's practically shoving you into the mattress and you swear you can feel her in your throat.

stars flutter around the blurry edges of the halo that is her golden hair, and the tears in your eyes begin to slip again between the way she's carving a god damn signature inside of you and how she's holding you so tightly against her.

you open your mouth, trying to speak but hopelessly interrupted by a mixed sob and moan. she chuckles softly, but it's tender and sweet, and she nods, brushing her thumb over your temple.

"I know, sweetheart, I know."

[catiuskaa]

audio creak file.mp3 [1:07]

PAIRING! pervy?Chan x roomate!reader

SUMMARY: Chan struggles to make music, and you, his friend and roommate, try to help him when you can. Say, Chan also struggles to keep his cool whenever you’re near… what will you do to help him feel better?

WC: 3.2k

CW: convenient minsung because I say so, angsty(?) (reader is just kinda dense and Minho screams the truth to her), smut: mentions of soft dom!chan, mentions of panty stealing, Chan’s a pervy simp (he’s just soooo down bad), and I just really got carried away writing on my notes thinking about when Channie smiles hearing the creaks in heyday...

A/N: basically, if being inocent was a crime, i’d be imprisioned for tax evasion, lmao. kinda perv!chan thoughts to soothe the iching that the mosquito bites give. have fun!

[☆☆★☆☆]

He let out a frustrated groan, fingers digging into his curly locks in a sign of desperation. He had listened to every single audio sample Changbin had found. Twice. But no, nothing screamed “This is it” to his perfectionist self. And it was getting him fucking desperate.

He wasn’t wearing headphones because of the company he had been with not too long ago since Changbin and Han tried to help him —keyword: try—, and also knowing that you wouldn’t be home for a while meant that there was no one he could disturb, the sounds coming from his laptop not nearly loud enough to reach to the neighbours. He scrolled down the same folders again, wondering when you would be home in the back of his mind.

You and Chan had been roommates for a bunch of years now. You two had met at Han’s birthday party thanks to Minho, as he introduced you, one of the first people he had ever danced with and even won competitions with to the leader of the Korean boyband.

You clicked almost instantly, sharing anecdotes from each side of the industry. He, a famous idol, and you, a backup dancer for many groups in different companies.

It was unknown to both of you that Han and his cat-like soulmate had tried to matchmake you that day, as you just stayed like close friends. Minho laughed at Jisung as they both returned from your shared apartment the day you moved in, like two years after. Now that you’d split the rent, considering neither of you spent that much time home to pay a large amount, you paired up.

“At least they like each other, silly,” he mentioned, his tone of voice sounding soft, a smug smile on his face. He was so winning the bet.

“Nooo!” Han whined, much like a toddler would when toys were taken away. “Those two are meant to be, Hyung. They are literally each other’s type!”

“Well, I don’t think they’ve noticed,” he chuckled, thinking about what he would buy with the ten bucks Han would owe him. And Minho would’ve been right.

But then, the sex dreams started.

“Chan, I’m back!”

He blushed, quickly shoving those thoughts into a bottomless pit in his mind.

“How you doin’?” You grinned, your head popping inside his room, leaving your bag on your own, next to his, before coming back and leaning on the door frame.

Your wet hair made the top of your summer dress fabric somewhat sheer, his eyes trailing your figure before clearing his throat.

“I’m stuck,” he admitted, dimples on display as he smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve been looking for a sample I thought existed, but maybe I just made it up in my head.”

“That does sound like shit,” you mentioned, leaning down just enough to rest your forearms on the back of his chair. He felt tiny droplets falling from your hair onto his shoulders and back, making goosebumps trail all over his body.

“But how… how was the… the swimming pool?” He quivered, trying to hide the flustered quiver in his voice. And failing, hoping you wouldn’t notice.

“It was good! It felt sooo nice.” You stretched, whining as you extended your arms, making a mess in Chan’s head, who struggled to hide it. “I’ll go get changed, and then I can help you. Sounds ok?”

“Yeah.” He leaned into your touch when you ruffled his hair, leaving his room.

He sighed as he rested on the back of the chair, arms thrown over his eyes, and swallowed dry. He felt like such a perv, his insides churning and turning whenever you were near, making him feel like a horny teenager.

It all started one night when he woke up in a sweat, hard-on nearly hurting underneath his boxers. Pictures of you still reeling in his mind, legs wide open for him, eyes pleading, begging for release.

Then, two nights after, dreaming about your body pressed on top of him as you straddled him, clenching on him, fighting for dominance in a sloppy kiss.

Later that week, you in that cute summer dress you bought with him, letting him fuck you and manhandle you in his car, the apartment too far, and your bodies too horny that the drive home felt impossible.

Seeing you every day with those thoughts in mind was difficult, sometimes having to escape your sight so you wouldn’t see him getting hard just by you doing the slightest things that weirdly turned him on.

“The one you dream about is back,” you teased, now wearing an oversized shirt and a towel over your shoulders. He gulped as he looked at you, not only for what you had said unknowingly but also because of your shirt, long enough to cover your thighs, giving the illusion that you were almost naked. In his room. Sitting crisscrossed. On his bed.

He felt blood on his cheeks and some running down, headed south. He giggled halfheartedly, the sentence ‘don’t get hard’ echoing in his head.

After playing the samples again, tricking himself into thinking he might have skipped one just so he would keep searching, he started getting frustrated again. But nuh-uh. Nothing.

“Ok, this is trash,” you blurted out.

With a smile on your face, before he could even ask you what was wrong, you grabbed his chair from behind, pushing him far from the computer, saving the files and then closed it with a slap.

“Break time, Mr Producer. We both need a coffee.” He snickered, shaking his head sideways as you both went to the kitchen.

“Can’t say no to that, can I?”

You laughed. “No. Too late, anyways.”

He started getting the milk from the fridge, pouring it on the mugs you handed him, and settling them in the microwave, a small smile on his features accenting his dimples.

“Audio sample related, can’t you just make your own?” You asked Chan, not entirely curious, question directed to find a solution for his issue rather than learning that piece of info.

“I mean, yeah, sure, but it’s simpler this way,” he shrugged, eyes confused about where to look, not daring to stare at you for too long. “If not, I just have to keep recording random stuff, hoping to find something that sounds like what I want.”

“Isn’t that easier? Not like it’s something you can brag about, but there’s a ton of creaking shit in this place,” you pointed out thoughtfully. “Like… that!”

In the blink of an eye, you crossed your way until you were directly in front of Chan, and you turned around, leaning on the counter before you as you opened and closed the cabinet's door on the wall.

“See? It creaks,” you said from above your shoulder.

But just when you stood back on your feet, you realised how close you were to each other. And it hadn’t helped that when you leaned towards the cabinet, your shirt had followed along with your body, letting Chan see your lack of pyjama pants, instead being welcomed by some cute cotton panties. Ones he knew well because, uhm… he uh… may have used them for a wrong purpose.

Yeah, fuck, he had come on those.

You hadn’t realised how little space had been between him and the counter and attributed that to your head, not knowing that Chan had unconsciously moved towards you, like metal to a magnet. You wiggled on your place, your personal space suddenly far away from you, caged in Chan’s presence. He stopped your tiny motion by gripping your waist, letting out a gasp, blushing. He turned you around so you wouldn’t feel his hardening cock on your upper thighs.

When you both locked eyes on the contrary, the tense atmosphere shot up, turning even thicker when he rested his arms on the counter, at your sides, thumbs casually stroking short lines on your waist.

No words were said as you got lost in his brown eyes, deep chocolate-coloured orbs, not needing any kind of golden or honey stripes on them as they drew you in, gorgeous eyes so raven that it was hard to distinguish where the iris was. Then, your eyes trailed off at his mouth, your breath hitched, rose-coloured plush lips so enticing. He licked them, and you swore you heard him swallow dry.

You pressed your body on him, getting closer and closer, and suddenly, he let out a small whimper. The sound made you shiver, heat pooling in your lower belly. He blushed furiously, not daring to move from his place. You could feel it, feel him.

The sound of your phone chiming in your room made you both aware of the situation —and position— you were in. You got shy, quickly letting him have his personal space back, both of you missing the other’s warmth on your skin as you blurted out something that sounded like “gotta go walk my fish” as you run to your room, slamming the door close, frowning as soon as you were alone.

“Fuck.” Both of you said at the same time, having the same thoughts.

“I fucked up.” Chan stared at the hot mugs on the counter, both waiting for someone who had run away.

[☆☆★☆☆]

“He’s just scared, girl,” Han said through the phone after letting you ramble and blurt about what had happened barely twenty minutes ago. “I promise, if you make him feel safe, like he won’t lose you, he’ll melt on your hands.”

"...I don't think so," you mumbled, picking on your nails.

"You called me because he got hard," he sighed, not bringing his statement to a conclusion just because it was so painfully obvious. "I know you're the only one who thinks otherwise."

You were about to reply with a snarky comment about how he should just 'stick simping about Minho' when you started to hear said man speaking to Jisung, and then with all the calm in the world, ignored him when he went straight to the phone.

"...Minho?"

"Leave my boyfriend alone and go fetch yours," he replied as you heard Han groan in the back. It was almost as if you could feel him deadpanning from the other side of the phone.

You frowned even if you had a smile on your features, not taking the comment completely seriously. "Ok, rude. What a meanie."

"Jokes aside." You heard him breathe in from the other side of the phone. Oh boy. "The interminable teasing and bickering between you and Chan were amusing at first, but it's getting very stale and surprise, fucker, you live together!" He paused, clicking his tongue. "So, why don't you two cut the bullshit and admit your sexual and non-sexual feelings for each other?"

"My what?!"

"This is getting old really quick, goddamnit." You could feel him getting worked up, not just because of his tone but because he kept ignoring Han, whose comments echoed at the back of the phone call.

But Minho was serious. He was not gonna get cockblocked for ten bucks. Not tonight.

"You're getting kinda off-base, buddy!"

"Oh, it's almost one o'clock, fucking spare me!" He grumbled, getting slightly angrier. "Yeah, I get it. It's Chan. He can be a dick sometimes because of his severe self-esteem issues and how he doesn't know how to communicate his feelings all that well. But I kinda think he reminds you about that other guy you dated in our dance team, who was an absolute son of a bitch, and we can agree that you deserve to be with someone who's not that complicated or whatever, but still, you can't get Chan out of your head, can you? Don't answer. We know it." He interrupted you, unable to speak as you were just getting bombarded with facts you didn't want to deal with.

"But you? I've known you for years, yet you're still being a dumbass. You're behaving like a baby who'd rather act tough than show her true feelings 'cause last time, you got hurt! Owie," he cooed, tone still angrily mocking. "And now you're just dancing around the other in this pathetic act you're tryna put up to hide your pent-up feelings, SO, AGAIN, for my sake, either deal with it and stop bitching my man about it, or get over with it already!"

"Minho, I-!" You turned silent as you heard a beeping sound coming from your phone.

He hung up.

You stared at the screen, eyes almost out of place, as you muted the device, letting it vibrate with the unread texts Jisung sent, apologising in every way he knew.

"A baby?" You muttered, the word almost sickening in your mouth. "I am not a baby!"

You laid back down on your bed, rolling on your sides, Minho's words echoing in your mind as you cursed under your breath. Almost unconsciously, you stood up, left your room and approached Chan's as if wanting to enter just to get his confirmation regarding his allegedly existing feelings for you.

He startled you when he closed his door, meeting you in the hallway, his eyes glued to yours as soon as he saw you.

"Oh. Hey." You mentioned awkwardly.

"Hey," he said, tensed-up shoulders visible due to the lack of sleeves on his shirt. "I just... uh..."

"I... wanted to say that, uh..."

"I am sorry if I... uh..."

"It's ok... I uh... don't... I mean... I know that you can't really uh... control... it?"

You could almost hear Minho's laugh in your mind.

"Right," he sighed. You smiled reassuringly, and he did the same in an uneasy stance.

"Right. I mean, for all I know, it could happen for whatever reason."

"I uh, kinda, I guess."

"But never mind. I uh... 'm glad we feel the same way."

You both smiled sheepishly and headed to your respective rooms.

Chan sighed, hurriedly getting back to bed, wishing to get weird ideas out of his mind, not bothering to check his computer again. He rolled in bed, hand anxiously travelling through his hair so frequently that it was starting to get greasy.

He frowned, passing his hands through his face, the scene in the kitchen crossing his mind again, his already weak excuse for not being so clearly attracted to you crumbling when he remembered the eagerness he thought he had seen in your eyes.

He stood up again and went to open the door just to go check, because what if he hadn't just made it up in his mind?

But then, he met you right in front of his room.

Before you could escape or come up with anything, he approached you and pecked your lips, feeling his heart skip ten beats when you pushed him away.

His eyes locked into yours, a sight of contentment leaving his lips as you grabbed his shirt and pulled him back in, smiling in the kiss. It heated very quickly, a sloppy kiss with all tongues and teeth, both fighting for dominance. You went to get the edge of his shirt, but instead, he gave you a light smack on your thighs, and you jumped, legs crossing around his waist, arms around his neck as he guided both of you into his room, closing the door with a kick.

The two of you breathed heavily, the air thick with anticipation and lust. He pinned you up against the closed door and kissed hard, feeling the heat rising as your bodies tightened against one another. Your tongues met, mingling in an intense way that drove you wild. You let out soft sounds of pleasure, suddenly changing sides, pulling him away just enough so you could have access to his neck, your teeth trailing from his jaw, trying to find a sensitive spot.

He whined, barely moving away, trying to calm himself down, the sudden blow of emotions too intense for him. He then panted, and you quickly went back to that spot you had found, nibbling on it. "What are we- fuck- what are we doing?"

You set a finger on his lips, your face going back to his. "Shhh. Let's just... enjoy it," you whispered, leaving a small chaste kiss at the corner of his lips, tempting him. You then flinched, moving away "Unless you don't want..."

He let out a groan, deep and enticing, hungrily going back to your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back, your lips pressing firmly against his.

"No... I want you."

"And I want you too, Chris." You admitted, doe eyes trailing down to his lips, licking your own. "Now."

[☆☆★☆☆]

Your schedule had gotten filled up to the brim, chances of meeting Chan reserved for the ungodly hours of the night, which were used to get some well deserved sleep. Rehearsing over and over left your body exhausted, your mind clouded in the remaining work you had left, only the most sinful parts of it replaying the encounter that had happened barely three nights ago.

It was obvious that he was awake, the light in his room shining from underneath the door, knowning that he’d probably be working on his samples.

And he had tried, looking for one of the files he had recorded that delicious night. But something felt wrong. He frowned, looking at how long the audio was.

He played it before using it, at first just hearing random noises he was recording. Then he heard himself groaning, the sound of the bed sheets moving with his body, and then, after some loud steps, the door creaked open.

And those voices were you and him, that was no doubt. He blushed, the sound of the door slamming close getting his mind back to three nights ago.

“Ah, fuck, Chan!” You moaned through his headphones.

The bed creaked under both of you in rythmic beats, matching each thrust, your moans decorating the purple-lit room.

As both an idol and a producer, Chan had listened to many voices and samples for a long time, ears used to the constant stimulation, but the sound of your needy whines as he slowed down in hopes of not coming too soon made the task even more difficult.

“Don’t- ugh, fuck-,” he whined, hearing the heavy breathing through the recording. “Let me hear you, baby, please.”

Chan tried to pause the recording, a flustered mess, but instead accidentally unplugged his headphones, the sound of creaks and moans filling his room once again.

He paused it, mortified. Where you home? Fuck, he didn’t want you to think he was recording you in secret.

He turned around slowly when the door creaked open.

“What's going on here?” You walked in with an oversized top on, the cut of the sleeves made so that your body could be seen through the sides of the tank top.

“I-i uh…”

“Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“Chan? Are you listening?” Changbin questioned, frowning.

“Uh?”

He remembered that he wasn’t inside his room, like the night before, your thighs straddling his, but in the studio, showing his friends the audio he had put together. He couldn’t help but smile and get lost in his thoughts when certain creaks came out.

“We like it,” Han repeated. “We can get to writting lyrics soon enough.”

Chan’s phone chimed next to him, his eyes trailing it with no thoughts to it.

Let’s have fun again tonight.

He bit his lip, turning his phone off.

“I’ll call it Heyday,” he mentioned to his friends, renaming the new audio file.

He’d keep the other one a secret.

[☆☆★☆☆]

[hard hours]

~Kats, who came up with this idea on the beach and has had it stuck in her head since day one.

[sixosix]

heyooo!! can I request Izuku when his fingers accidentally brush against the readers??? And they grab his hand and he gets all flustered <333 sorry I just can’t get this scenario out of my head!! He’s so silly!! /pos

a/n omf i cant believe my izuku readers r still alive… i havent caught up in the manga since forever so if theres anything wrong, thats why LOL i missed izuku so much T__T, wc 1k

Izuku is guarding a terrible, terrible secret. One that he wouldn’t even admit if his classmates roped him into an intense game of Truth or Dare, unless drunk, probably. Which will never happen.

Class 1-A Dorms roars with laughter. Izuku swears he can feel the building shaking as the students occupying the vast space of the living room burst into another fit of cackles. The other building could probably hear it, and they’d get a noise complaint the next morning, from 1-B, no less.

They’re watching a movie. Comedy, perhaps; Izuku wasn’t paying much attention when they were picking, but he could pick up the clues of what the characters on screen are saying, his classmates jostling his shoulders as they giggle, and, of course, the same mp3 laugh track that plays for the rest of the film.

Izuku is tucked into the far corner of the couch, squished between Todoroki and Uraraka. Uraraka laughs with her whole body, her head thrown back as she claps in delight. Todoroki laughs once, a huff of amusement, just a curl of his lips.

And on the floor, nestled between where Izuku dutifully keeps his knees spread so as to not hurt, sits you—the whole reason why Izuku is struggling to focus on the movie in the first place.

He’s eternally grateful that keeping the lights dim while watching films is a thing, or else everyone would’ve long noticed his burning face. He looks like a strawberry, and feels like a strawberry left under the sun. Todoroki had cast him a glance, vague amusement playing on his stoic face. Izuku wanted to dig a hole and bury himself in there forever.

“Sorry, Izuku,” you say, loud enough to be heard over the film but quiet enough that it’s only shared between the two of you. He wills his legs not to jump up in surprise. “Can I just lay for a bit? I’m getting kinda sleepy.”

“No problem,” Izuku says after a beat, managing to not fuck up and stammer embarrassingly in front of you. Or should it be behind you?

You tilt your head upward, meeting his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Y-Yes. I mean, you’re welcome.” Dammit.

Izuku breathes a sigh of relief when your attention is promptly stolen by the laugh track, and Kaminari yelps a cackle.

He catches something from the corner of his eye, paling at the sight of a terrifying expression on Uraraka’s face. If devils had round eyes and rounder cheeks, smiling in a way that fits their nature, it would be a picture of evilness Uraraka is portraying at this moment.

He squints inquisitively at her.

Uraraka grins. “Your hand,” she whispers, then does something he can’t quite figure out.

Confused, Izuku shows her his hand, scars and all.

Uraraka looks unimpressed, and Izuku wilts. He can’t hear her properly, with the movie picking up pace and sound effects. Uraraka makes a grand demonstration of splaying her hand and resting it on the crown of her hair, then gestures wildly at your head. 

As soon as understanding dawns on Izuku, his face feels drained of blood, horrified. “No,” he mouths desperately. “No.” Again, for good measure.

“Yes,” she mouths back, taking matters into her own hands by quite literally taking his hand and moving to place it on your head. But he panics and jostles your hands resting on his lap instead.

Izuku pales. The characters in the movie shriek. “Sorry,” he squeaks out, then glares at Uraraka, who’s holding in her laughter.

He heaves a heavy breath when you cast him a curious glance.

“You—Sorry, I, my hand—No, I mean, I didn’t mean to do that,” he blurts uselessly, waving his arms around in a desperate attempt to hide his face, which is surely the same shade as anything red.

What the hell, his brain hisses. Izuku, you idiot, you’ve done it now.

He watches with bated breath as you take his hand instead of laughing at his face. He watches as you lace your fingers with his instead of seeing your face scrunch up in disgust. His heart flutters, threatening to fly off his chest and into the shared warmth of your hands.

Instead, he deflates like a red balloon, his mouth forming words that sound like nitpicking vowels from a series of keyboard smashes.

“I don’t mind,” you say. “Relax. I want you to hold me.”

It’s a little hard to relax when your words float around in his mind like a broken record.

Once the movie ends and the noise subsides, his classmates collectively keep their messes—namely, the thrown popcorn and spilled soda on the carpet—and return to their rooms. But Izuku can’t do that, not when he has a Y/N who is still resting against his lap.

He waves goodbye at Uraraka and Iida, the former making kissy faces and Iida solemnly sending him his prayers.

Izuku resigns himself to his fate, sighing softly. Well, despite everything, he likes the fact that you never once let go of his hand.

“I like your hands,” you say, as if answering his thoughts. Izuku jolts and can’t help it because he thought you were asleep.

“You… do?”

Izuku thinks his hands are ugly, scars running all the way to his shoulders like protruding veins. He hates seeing it.

“I do,” you say, squeezing it tenderly. “I’m glad it’s still together and working after all you’ve done to it. I like them.”

Izuku bites his bottom lip, harsh enough that it’s nearly drawing blood, lest he says something stupid like, ‘I like you’. He doesn’t, thankfully. Yet it’s there, on the tip of his tongue. If you asked him what’s on his mind, he would’ve said it.

But he guards his secret a little while longer and hopes that someday he’ll be able to share it with you.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, finding the courage to squeeze your hand. Much to his delight, you do it back and smile. He’s melting. “Can we, uhm, stay here for a bit?”

You laugh, rising from your position. Izuku nearly panics and holds you down because he doesn’t want to lose this moment just yet. But he finds himself stunned when you settle beside him and rest your head against his shoulder instead. “Sleep,” you say. “We’ll stay here for a bit.”

“O-Okay, yeah,” he whispers, reaching for your hand once more.

[sunflowerwinds]

this love [h.c] | chapter four

summary: after the events of last night, you’re living in bliss with hazel: sharing secret kisses and gentle touches. you and hazel try a few new things. when isabel catches the two of you, an unsettling realization comes into play.

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: a lot of affection, blushy adorable sapphics, smut — fingering (r! receiving), discussions about homophobia, inexperienced! reader, knight! hazel is forever going to be the death of me.

word count: 6.1K

a/n: first post of the new year! i’m so incredibly sorry for the delay for this guys. life has been so insanely weird lately and i missed writing my sweet girls <3 new year’s resolution to try and post a lot more for yall. enjoy my loves ♥︎

‘this love’ masterlist

Time is sacred.

You never paid attention to time until Hazel. It either froze or went by entirely too fast when you were with her. Especially now that your relationship with her was anything but professional. Yes, of course, you were both extremely careful with how you acted towards one another when Isabel or any of the guards were around. Keeping your distance but stealing longing glances until you rounded a corner where there wasn’t a soul in sight and kissed until you couldn’t breathe.

The first week of being with her like this was indescribable. You never knew you could experience this amount of happiness within yourself. Though it took a few days for you both to become comfortable with yourselves.

The first day was on edge. You awoke that next morning to Hazel’s perfectly sculpted face pressed into your velvety pillows to match your title as royalty. As you stared at her cupid's bow, an uncomfortable amount of guilt settled within you.

What would your mother think? What would Isabel think? What would the kingdom think if they found out the princess was in fact more different than they thought. That was you were a sapphic and would not want to be wed to a prince, but instead a woman that was a knight.

You were afraid. Heart-aching, soul-crushing, overwhelmingly afraid for the future.

But the moment Hazel opened her eyes and sent you a tired smile in your direction, you felt a wave of relief flush over you.

“Morning, princess,” Hazel spoke through a stretch and a yawn.

“Morning,” you reply shyly as you brushed your tousled hair out of your face.

“Are you okay?” Hazel hesitantly raised a hand to caress your puffy cheeks from your well-rested slumber.

You can’t help but lean your cheek into her warm yet slightly calloused palm.

“Yeah. I’m just thinking.” You respond truthfully to her question.

Hazel caressed the apple of your cheeks, watching as the beam from the windows highlighted the back of your head to reveal your frizzy hairs. A bright angelic halo of sorts.

“About last night?”

You nod as it was true but there was so much more. Your half-truths were weighing on your chest uncomfortably.

“What happens now?” You question as you’ve never experienced anything of the sort.

Hazel shakes her head as she continues to caress the side of your cheek.

“Let’s just stay in the moment. It’s gentle here with you, princess.” Hazel whispers with nothing but kindness in her voice.

You simply smile tiredly and inch yourself more into her if that was even possible. You could feel her abdomen pressing into your own through the thin material of her shirt. Your arms are close to your chest as she continues to caress your face with delicacy.

A beat passed before you heard a soft knock at your bedroom door. You sat up with a jolt at the noise, practically snapping your neck to look at Hazel who, too, had a panicked expression on her face.

“Who is it?” You call out as you run a hand over your frizzy bed hair.

“Isabel! Remember? You wanted to talk about Hazel this morning.?” Isabel’s confused and muffled voice flowed through the door.

No. You, in fact, had not remembered. You were too busy kissing and snuggling Hazel.

Hazel mouthed to you with a cocky smile on her face; “me?”

You silently shush her with a playful shove to her shoulder as you shake your head. Hazel placed a kiss on your shoulder as she chuckled quietly at your embarrassed flushed cheeks.

“Isabel, can you meet me in the dining room? I’m not… presentable at the moment.” You nervously laugh, fiddling with a loose strand on your elegant covers.

Another beat of deafening silence.

“Alright. How long will you be?” Isabel sounded extremely hesitant from behind the door.

Guilt settled in your gut. You were going to tell her eventually. Maybe. You weren't sure if it was worth the risk. Yes, Isabel had never once showed you any sort of aggression or hatred towards anything but you never knew how someone could be when you revealed that you were, in fact, a sapphic.

“Only ten minutes. I promise.” You assure her, glancing at Hazel who seemed a bit weary.

“I'll be in the dining room then,” Isabel borderline mumbles through the door.

Once you heard her footsteps recede past your bedroom and down the lengthy hallway, you let out a sigh of relief. One of your hands pressed over your rapid-beating heart to try and relax your anxious thoughts. Hazel was about to tease you about how you were going to be talking about her with Isabel but as soon as she noticed your shaking hands, it was no longer amusing.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Hazel’s voice whispers as she notices how hard your breathing became. Her hand gently caresses at the side of your face.

“I-I don’t know what I’m going to tell her, Hazel. She’d—“

“You don’t have to tell her anything if you don’t want to. She is not obligated to know, princess.” Hazel assured you.

You shook your head before replying; “she’s my friend. I trust her.”

“I understand. If you wish to tell her, that is okay with me but,” Hazel licked her lips as she paused her words to try and find the right ones. “Are you going to be okay with it? With any sort of reaction that could happen after you tell her; bad or good?”

Yes, for the good. No; for the bad. Your mind was flipping back and forth. You were about ninety percent certain that Isabel would be okay with you and you and Hazel’s relationship. That small percentage of the gut-wrenching possibility that she could despise you forever was holding you back from saying ‘yes’.

“I won't tell her. Yet, at least.” You said simply.

“And that’s okay.” Hazel’s gentle tone reassured your buzzing anxiety.

You nod slowly, a smile spreading onto your face. Hazel’s lips curled as well, leaning forward to kiss your cheek softly.

After reluctantly getting out of the bed, though Hazel’s lips were a painful temptation, you met up with Isabel in the dining room for breakfast. Linda and Nina cooked you and Isabel eggs with slices of bread on the side with a few choices of homemade jams from the fruits growing in the garden.

Hazel had to have been in the knights quarters by now as you kissed her goodbye before making your way to lie to your only friend. Isabel had already begun spreading the blueberry jam onto the wheat bread with an excited look on her face.

“What happened in the garden?” Isabel questioned.

“Um, well,” you start as you pick at your over-easy eggs to try and remember what you and Hazel had come up with, “we kind of got into an argument about why she was upset with me. We talked it out and now we’re all good. I think we’re closer now because of it.”

Yeah, her tongue in your mouth ‘close’.

Isabel nodded along before tilting her head with furrowed brows. “What exactly did you two talk about?”

“It was nothing really. We’re okay now is all that matters.” You emphasized to the honey haired beauty.

Isabel seemed to not really believe what you were saying and you were internally panicking and hoped that she would move on. Thankfully, she just nodded and continued to eat brunch with you. She moved on to tell you that she enjoyed seeing her family so much that she was hoping to be able to leave the palace on her own to stay with them for a few more days.

“Bel, oh my god. Of course,” your eyes soften at her beaming eyes.

God, it was eating at you how you could lie to someone as incredibly sweet as she was.

“Okay,” she said through giddy laughter as she took a bite of her slice of bread, “I’ll pack clothing for the trip after breakfast. Thank you so much.”

“What did I tell you about the ‘thank you’s?” You raised your eyebrows at her, pointing at her with a fork.

“I know, I know. I just…” Isabel sighed as she looked like she was stuck on her words. Her eyes were following all across your features and it caused you to mess with your flyaway hairs subconsciously.

“What?” You let out a soft chuckle, avoiding her eyes.

“You seem brighter today.” Isabel admits with a sweet smile.

Another stab to the heart. This really wasn’t going to be easy on you, was it?

A few days followed and you grew more and more comfortable with being this intimate with the charming knight. The kisses were heavier and the touches lingered for longer.

This beautiful morning, you forced yourself to get up from the safe space of the soft bed and got ready for the day. Hazel strangely enough kept her distance from you as you got ready on your own. Isabel was still in town with her family so the palace was eerily empty; other than the knights, of course.

You brushed it off as this was probably just as new to her as it was to you. Two women being intimate like this wasn’t unheard of but it was drastically shamed upon. The thought of the two of you being exposed to the public struck an inexplicable amount of fear through you.

As you slipped on the dress, you watched her through the mirror as she stood up from the bed. You tensed up as her hands reached out to carefully tug on the ropes of the corset in the back. You sucked in a deep breath Hazel’s fingers grazed against the bare skin of your back.

“Is this okay?” Hazel’s whispers.

You simply nod, a very obvious blush on your cheeks as she ties the corset portion off to secure the fabric onto your body. Hazel traces the stitching before retracting her hands to smile at you through the mirror.

“You are beautiful, princess.” Her tone was genuine as her eyes fell to the sage green material of your corset portion of your dress.

“You are a charmer, Hazel,” you reply, trying to hide how much that lifted your spirit.

Hazel chuckled at your deflection of her compliment as she already knew how you were.

“And you are stubborn.” Hazel leaned forward to place a feather-soft kiss onto the crook of your neck.

The gesture caused the faintest of gasps to leave your lips before turning around to face her fully. You were met with her deep blue eyes staring into your own, a glint that was unrecognizable in hers.

“Would you teach me how to fight?” You change the subject, somehow suddenly remembering that she was a trained knight.

Hazel’s eyes narrowed for a moment in thought as you lean forward to scrunch up your nose in her face. Hazel copied your actions which caused you to smile adoringly at her.

“I think you could already put up a good fight so…” Hazel cleared her throat and jerked her head towards your bedroom doors. “Let’s go and test that theory, princess.”

You couldn’t believe she agreed so quickly. You had no experience whatsoever in any other kind of combat. The only thing you knew how to expertly do was disassociate when your parents scolded you.

“Wait, really? You’ll teach me?” You beamed excitedly at her words.

“Of course. Whatever my princess wants,” her tone deepened ever so slightly that caused shivers to run down your spine.

Hazel motioned towards the bedroom doors with a small smile as you hadn’t responded to her comment. All you could do was reciprocate the smile as you followed behind Hazel as she tugged open the door for you. She stood to the side with perfect posture as you walked past her, a soft ‘thank you’ leaving your lips.

You haven’t gotten any new news on how your parents were doing or if they had even arrived in the new country yet. You didn't care as much as you should but there wasn’t an ounce of guilt within you. You haven’t enjoyed yourself in such a long time and it was all thanks to Hazel. Oh, and of course your parents' obsession with giving you away to some random prince.

“What do you want to learn first?” Hazel questions as she walks side by side with you as you make your way to the back of the palace. “There’s sword fighting, hand-to-hand, archery— well that’s considered hunting more than anything but a skill nonetheless.”

“Well, what do you think I could be good at?” You ask curiously.

Sometimes you hated how you couldn't be inside of Hazel’s mind to see what she thought of you. When she looked at you, it seemed a lot more gentle than saying your parents were too. It intrigued you more than anything.

Hazel looked over at you with a smug smile before shaking her head. Damn her private thoughts.

“What?” You press with her a confused chuckle.

“How about we start with hand to hand combat, princess, yeah?” She completely dodged your question.

You would’ve minded a lot more but the way she tilted her head when she spoke to you made your head cloud with desire. You blush and nod at her suggestion. You followed her to the training area designated for the knights just outside of their quarters, eyeing the wooden set up of the swords.

There were a few bow and arrows and targets that were carved into wooden boards. Bow and arrows were more for hunting as you were told by your mother and father.

“How do we start?” You question as you stare out at the open area of grass.

“Before we start, we have to discuss the one ground rule.” Hazel cleared her throat, turning to you with a more serious expression. “The second you feel any sort of uncomfort or fear, you tell me immediately. Do not hesitate. I mean it, princess. It’s my job to protect you and make sure you’re okay.”

“I thought the job my father gave you was to keep me in line because I’m ‘stubborn’.” You quip with a cheeky grin.

“Well, he hasn’t been wrong about that, has he?” Hazel’s eyebrows rose at you.

You remained silent as you knew she got you there. Your stubbornness was evident in this very moment.

“Now, tell me you’ll say if you don’t want to do this anymore. Even if it's mid-fight, you tell me.” Hazel’s eyes bore into your own, your face heating up from the intensity of her deep blue gaze.

You nod, biting back your cheeky attitude to show you were serious about this as well.

“No. Words, princess.” Hazel shook her head.

“Yes, I will tell you.” You suck in a deep breath as you straighten your back.

“Good.”

Was it normal to be aroused by a voice? You asked yourself as she gently yet sternly spoke to you. You felt like you were going insane by wanting to have her instruct you how to do anything and everything.

Now being early summer, beads of sweat were forming at your hairline. Your hair was already into a singular ponytail, being held back by a piece of ribbon that was the same color as your corset portion of your dress. Your everyday dress clung tightly to your body, the flowy sleeves sending a breeze to up your arms with every movement. Hazel had half of her short hair tied up, the look suiting her quite well. You were afraid you would be distracted and get accidentally punched in the face.

“Now, when in combat, a lot of the time your opponent will try to throw you off guard but it's usually some form of punch,” Hazel explained as she slowly circled you.

“Okay, how do I do that?” You turn your head to follow her body.

“Do what?” Hazel blinked.

“Throw a proper punch.” Your eyes are wide with curiosity.

Hazel stopped her circling right in front of you with a soft smile.

“Hold your fists up for me, princess. Like this.”

Hazel demonstrated what your stance should be. You imitate her position, holding your fists straight outwards. She shook her head at you before reaching forward to adjust your arms so that your elbows were bent.

“There we go.” Her voice is calm before she holds up her palms. “Now take a hit at my hand. I need to see how hard you—“

You throw your fist forward to her palm with all the strength you can muster as she is still talking to you. Hazel stops talking to wince at your blow, shaking her hand out to ease the sting that followed throughout her palm and wrist.

You gasp and cover your mouth with both of your hands, muttering out soft apologies quickly. Your own knuckles burned slightly but all you could think about was how you hurt Hazel.

Hazel then chuckled as she shook her head as well, still shaking her hand. “That was good, princess. You are a lot stronger than you look. Hit me again.”

You froze as you noticed her pale cheeks were now slightly flushed as her smile grew. You take position once again as you throw the punch again to her other open palm. Hazel was tense as she urged you to throw the punch again and again and again.

Each blow felt… like a relief. All the pent-up annoyance and anger that was towards your parents for the past 20 years were being let out at the moment.

“You know, you could’ve been a knight if not a princess,” Hazel spoke up as she was finally giving her palms a rest from your slight aggression.

Your chest was panting softly as you too needed a small break, tilting your head at Hazel. A proud smile settled on Hazel’s face which caused you to reciprocate with a tight-lipped grin.

“Really?” You shut one eye as the sun’s rays beamed onto your heated skin, slightly blinding you.

“With your strength, princess, absolutely.” Hazel leaned closer to you, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

Your initial reaction was to look around for anyone but you were still within your own walls of the palace. Just you and her able to enjoy each other's touch. Once this realization settled in, you carefully placed your lips onto hers; a ghost of a kiss even. You tested the waters to see if she even wanted to kiss you when you were all sweaty and out in broad daylight.

Hazel chased yours when you tried to pull away, her hands settling on your waist. It was a careless idea. You wanted to be careless as long as you could feel her lips on you.

“What are you doing to me?” Hazel pulls away to ghost her nose over yours.

Her words were desperate, begging for you.

“Distracting my opponent.” You reply as you allow your palms to rest on hers that were on your waist. They slid up her arms to her biceps to grab onto the muscle lightly.

“You're a vixen, princess.” Hazel lets out a pained sigh before grabbing onto your waist tighter to lock her lips with yours.

The word echoed in your mind. You had only heard it a few times within the literature you read. A vixen was a fierce and sexually attractive woman. Hazel had just admitted that she had thought about you in a sexual manner.

You had merely read about arousing actions. It was rare to find intense and erotic scenes in the fiction you read but when you stumbled upon a few pages of it, you felt ashamed to be absorbing something like that. All of it was centered around a man and a woman.

“Do you want to go to the library?” You hum as you back up slowly from Hazel.

Her brows furrow at your suggestion, having not expected you to say ‘library’ of all places. Her demeanor switched as she knew the library was one of your favorite places in the palace; next to the garden and your bedroom.

“Are we done with practicing for the day?” Hazel questioned but she was taking gradual steps towards your backing away figure.

“I just want a little more… privacy, if that’s okay?”

Which had been code for ‘I want to devour you with no one around’. Hazel’s eyes eyed you up and down with only desire and admiration. Your panting chest and cheeky smile caused her to follow you without a doubt in her mind.

After all, you are her princess.

“You’re a little minx, you know that?” Hazel shook her head as she pointed at you with a smile just as giddy as your own.

You didn't deny her words but instead only continued to back away until you were speed-walking towards the library’s outside doors. Hazel was hot on your feet, a smitten chuckle leaving your lips as her hands chased after your waist. You let out soft giggles at her grip as you tug one of the door handles open to reveal the shelves of dusting books.

There in the far right, away from any big windows of sorts was a red velvet couch with gold lining. You eyed it curiously, waiting patiently for your knight. Hazel shut the door behind you as she peered out the window at the open field to make sure there was no one in the surrounding areas.

Once she made sure the two of you were okay, she turned to you who was already sitting on the couch waiting for her. You were sitting upright, staring up at her with wanting eyes.

“Can I ask you something, princess?” Hazel hummed as she traced a few spines of the books.

“Uh, yes?” You were confused but tilted your head to look at her side profile.

“Have you ever read erotica before?”

The question stunned you. Your eyes darted across the shelves in a panic as you in fact had read some hot erotica before. It had completely caught you by surprise the dirty words inked on the pages of some unknown romance novel. Yes, it was between a man and woman but the feeling it had given you ached in your lower regions.

“Only a few times, yes, but not many,” you admitted shyly.

“Is it arousing for you?” Hazel asked.

What is she leading up to?

Your nose scrunches up at the memory before replying with: “Not always. I feel the man gets a majority of the pleasure in most of them.”

Hazel merely hummed and nodded as you weren't wrong. However, it was painfully obvious as the ones who had read were in fact written by men. The pages were etched with descriptions of a man's ‘throbbing shaft’ and ‘reddening tip’ that had made your body cower in disgust.

“See, that’s the problem. There aren't many novels targeted for women.” Hazel now was inching over to you. You nod in agreement, still looking up at her with curious eyes. “The men usually treat the women like they’re nothing but a pretty face and something to control.”

”I’m pretty sure that’s most men in real life as well.” You add on, shaking your head.

Hazel now stood right in front of you, reaching a hand out to cup at your jaw gently. The motion made you freeze but allowed the touch with caution. Hazel’s rough thumb grazed over your lower lip, your breath hitching at the feeling.

“Will you let me make you feel good, princess?” Hazel’s voice was barely above a whisper, eyes locking with yours. “Show you what that should feel like?”

You almost responded with, ‘You already make me feel good’, but then you realized she meant like in the erotica: sexually.

“Yes.” You muttered in a trance, tilting your jaw up in hopes she would capture your lips in a kiss.

Just as you had hoped, she leaned downward to kiss you softly, both of her hands cupping the sides of your warmed face. Your palms slid down her arms as you allowed her to use her thumb to dig into your cheeks causing your mouth to open a bit. Her tongue swiped over your bottom one hungrily. The kisses only grew heavier as Hazel was now kneeling down to where you now had to lean yourself to chase her addicting lips.

Hazel pulled away for a moment to stare at your flushed face before attaching her lips to the underside of your jaw. You jump a little in surprise but the feeling of her sucking and tugging at your skin makes goosebumps rise and a wave of arousal flow through you. Your cunt pulsed needily in a way that’s never happened before.

“Hazel,” you whimpered as your hands were sliding up into the lower part of her makeshift half-up hair-do.

“You sound prettier than I ever could imagine, princess,” she mutters on the wet spot on your jaw, excitement rushing through her veins.

This caused you to smile shyly at the compliment, cheeks warming up. Hazel pulls away from the length of your jaw to admire how beautiful you are when you’re so desperate.

“How did you plan on making me feel good, my knight?” You question with a cheeky grin, using one of your hands to trace around her hairline.

But you never failed to make her just as desperate.

“Do you trust me?” Hazel took said hand into her own grasp, raising your hand to place ever so gentle kisses on your sore knuckles.

In a dazed, lust-driven state, you nod eagerly.

“Yes,” you whimpered out.

Hazel let go of your gentle hands to guide her own to the bottom of the skirt portion of your dress. You watch the charming knight with eager eyes to see what she is going to do. Her palms were pressing into the plush of your thighs underneath the skirt, the mystery of what she was planning on doing was driving you insane.

“You’ll tell me if you want me to stop and I will, okay?” Hazel’s warm palms were massaging the skin sensually, leaning down to kiss at your exposed knee.

“I don’t think I’ll want you to,” you admit with a soft chuckle as she kisses just a bit higher past your knee.

Hazel too chuckled but she shook her head: “Even so, you change your mind and you let me know immediately, princess. Okay?”

You nod and mutter an ‘okay’ back. Hazel sucked in a deep breath before inching her hands up to the waistband of the undergarments of your dress. Your breathing grew rapid as she began to tug the material down your thick thighs. Hazel watched your face for any sort of discomfort but you only appeared excited for what was to come.

You lifted your feet to allow her to remove them completely. It was an arousing thought to know you were bare for her underneath the skirt of the dress. You’d only ever worn them with your day-to-day dresses as you found them restricting but didn't want to risk accidentally revealing your bottom to the palace staff.

One of her hands tossed the white cotton shorts to the side as the other was at the crevice of your hip and thigh. Your eyes fluttered as her fingers teased on the outside of your aching lips. Your mouth fell open as she gently parted your legs, a breeze brushing past your wet pussy.

“Can I touch you here?” Hazel’s hands brushed past your pubic bone, just above where you were hoping she would touch the most.

“Please,” you breathed out, adjusting yourself to where you were more towards the edge of the couch.

Hazel hummed as she carefully dragged a single finger through your folds. You were practically dripping with arousal, the noise sending shivers down your spine. Hazel muttered a curse under her breath at the feeling of how warm you were. She switched to two fingers just teasing at your cunt. The obscene sound made her feel like she was the luckiest woman to exist to be touching you like this.

Hazel did something that almost made you moan out loud. She suddenly removed that hand from underneath your dress to take her glistening fingers into her mouth. The knight didn't hold back a moan at the taste, needing more of you. The moan causes your ego to boost to the highest extent and you whine at the loss of her attention.

“I could taste you forever,” Hazel groaned before leaning forward to kiss you passionately.

You whimper against her mouth as you get a hint of your arousal on her lips. It wasn’t as good as Hazel was making it out to be but it only made you wetter at the fact that she audibly moaned at the taste of your cunt.

Hazel’s hands pushed the clothing up your legs to rest right on your upper thighs to sneak one hand underneath the skirt. That same hand made its way to your aching core to slip her middle finger into you. You gasp softly, clenching down on her hand. The feeling was foreign but you strangely couldn't get enough of it.

“Does that feel okay, princess?” Hazel questions.

You hum to confirm with a nod of your head.

“Okay. I’m going to move now and you tell me if you want me to stop,” the blue-eyed knight informs you before placing a kiss on your cheek.

You can’t really focus on speaking at the moment. Hazel’s finger begins to pump slowly in and out of your pussy, the motion sending shocks right to your aching clit. This time the moan that leaves your mouth is loud, followed by a whine that you can’t even begin to describe as other than feral.

As Hazel’s arm began to move forward and back, you were gripping onto her toned shoulders as leverage. There was slight sweat forming at the base of your neck and spine. Before you knew it, your hips were rolling down onto the finger. Hazel encouraged you with soft kisses to your cheeks and jaw.

Hazel then slipped in her ring finger next to the middle inside of your warm walls, watching as your face contorted in pleasure. Your brows were furrowed and your jaw hadn’t picked up since she first touched your hip.

“How’s my princess doing?” Hazel pecked your lips.

“Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Hazel grinned at you.

You nod, too focused on how amazing her fingers are working into you to smartly comment like you usually would. They curl against a spot inside of you that erupts the loudest moan you’ve ever made to echo inside the library’s walls. Hazel presses her lips to yours eagerly; to both quiet you and kiss you.

Your abdomen was tightening up as her pace quickened. It felt like you had to pee. Were you going to pee on her?

“Hazel, it feels tight right here.” You place a hand over your stomach, panting as you try to explain the strange feeling.

“It’s okay. I got you, princess. Let go and it’s going to feel so good. Just like I said I would make you feel,” Hazel rushed out as her free hand was now rubbing circles across your untouched clit.

You trusted her so you listened to her words and continued to enjoy the intense feeling. The sound of Hazel’s discreet moans only drew you on. You arched your back into her as your head grew fuzzy as an overwhelming amount of pleasure rushed from your lower back to the tips of your toes.

Hazel’s voice was all you could hear, pressing gentle kisses onto every piece of exposed skin. Your chest heaved up and down slowly as you rode your orgasm out. Her words were not clear yet as you were trying to process what had just happened.

“Princess, can you talk to me, please?” Hazel’s hands were sliding your undergarments up your legs for you as you were coming back down from your high.

“You— What was that?” You chuckle as you shake your head, gradually sitting yourself upright.

“A little trick we learned in knight training,” Hazel joked as she kissed your quivering thighs.

You weakly pushed her shoulder but then tugged at the fabric as a silent ‘come here’. Hazel got the hint and leaned down to take your plush lips onto hers. You slowly kissed her with gentle hands caressing at her neck.

Her hands were resting at your hips, humming in a state of bliss with you.

The door opened causing you and Hazel to remove your lips from one another quickly. You attempted to appear as casual as possible but it was no use. You heard a gasp that left from someone’s lips causing you to look up to see Isabel with eyes wide in shock.

“I’m back from… seeing my family. I’ll leave you be, princess.” Isabel tried to back out of the room but you were quick to call out for her.

She never calls you princess. You're more than just the ‘princess’ to her.

“Bel, wait, please don’t go.” You take a step forward, urgency in your voice.

Isabel held her head down and pretended to not hear you, briskly walking out of your bedroom and allowing the door to shut behind her. You looked over at Hazel in a panic, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

“I have to go after her, Hazel.” You give her an apologetic look as you rush out of the room before you can even hear her response.

Isabel wasn’t down the hall as you expected but in fact, right outside the library’s door. She was nervously picking at her fingernails. Her eyes caught your own, widening at the sight of your nervous figure.

Neither of you spoke for a beat, eyes locked one another. You were frozen, afraid if you moved she would take off in a sprint to tell someone about what she saw you and Hazel were doing. The silence was deafening.

“So I guess that’s what you meant by closer,” Isabel finally spoke softly, clearing her throat as she tucked a flyaway back behind her ear.

Her words caused your brows to furrow until you looked at her to see her lips pursed into a smile.

“What?”: is all you’re able to reply with as you’re in shock.

“I always thought you had a liking towards her but definitely not that much of a liking,” Isabel joked once again.

Now, you were extremely confused. She was acting so normal about this. No snarky comments about how what you two were doing was unnatural or disgusting.

All you can do is reach forward to pull her into a hug. Isabel accepted the embrace with open arms as she allowed you to let out a soft cry against her shoulder. It’s been a while since you’ve shed genuine tears, especially around people. It was something that you had forced yourself to repress due to your fear of being seen as pathetic by your parents.

Every shout, every degrading comment, every lecture, every poke at you pricked at your tear ducts every time but you had forced yourself to hold back any sort of weakness. It would only lead to even more ridiculing.

“You don’t hate me?” You question through the sobs.

“You’re happy now. I could tell that day I left how much brighter you looked. That’s all I want for you,” Isabel pulled away to grab onto your hands lovingly, “she does make you happy, right?”

You let out a wet laugh, wiping your hot and damp cheeks with one hand.

“A scary amount.”

Isabel let out a soft laugh as well. Her face twisted into a serious expression, her face softening in a way that you’ve never seen before: fear.

“I am afraid for you two. If anyone in the palace finds out about your relationship, I can almost guarantee they will not be kind.” Isabel’s worried voice tells you and winces as she tells you something that shatters your heart: “I’m sorry to tell you this, too, but your parents are also coming home a month early. They should be here in two weeks. One of the knights that patrols the gates heard from a messenger. He informed me when I arrived back.”

You stare at Isabel not knowing what to say. You weren’t ecstatic. Why would you be? You and Hazel have barely shared a week together and now what could’ve been three months had shrunk to one.

Time is fleeting. Time is a new found enemy.

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[ultrone]

just saw your hcs about fuckgirl!nat and they were so good that got me thinking... what if she fell in love with reader? how would nat convince R that she wants more than a few nights together?

⨳﹙❤️‍🩹 ♰﹚fuckgirl!nat falling in love w reader

omgg i love this thought <33 — context

at first, she'd ignore it, avoiding thinking about it altogether. she liked doing her own thing, so admitting her feelings, even to herself, wasn't her style. deep down, though, she knew. but whether she admitted it to herself or not, you didn't pay much mind, since she kept her cool as always.

then, a conflict started brewing inside her. on one side, she craved a real connection with you, but on the other, she preferred independence and shied away from commitment. sometimes, she'd ponder over it while watching you sleep peacefully beside her. but once she left your dorm, she'd throw herself into other things to keep her mind off it.

but gradually, she began showing her feelings through actions instead of words, even if she didn't intend to.

the first thing that gave it away was that she didn't call it quits with you after the two weeks mark. she brushed it off, saying she just really enjoyed being with you—sexually, of course. but who was she kidding? she didn't even last a week with the hottest girl on the hockey team.

around the third week, she started sleeping in. that was unusual for her; she usually slipped out before her fling woke up, or at least tried to. but now, she lingered, whether it was staying in bed longer or sitting by your window to smoke. whenever you woke up, she was there.

she cared about her self-image, though, so she tried not to do anything that seemed inconsistent with her usual behaviour. so even though she was doing these things, she'd play it off like, "my roommate’s being annoying these days. don’t feel like heading back if that's cool with you lol," and then end up staying over the entire week 😭

at first, whenever she noticed you were awake, she'd just leave without much conversation. but as time went on, you two started talking. it began with small talk, but then turned into long conversations. slowly, she started opening up to you, sharing things she hadn't with any of her previous flings. they weren't too personal, just stuff like her favourite songs, opinions on certain topics, even her favourite disney princess—yeah, she has one. it might've seemed trivial, but it meant something.

but alongside this, she started sending you mixed signals; sometimes she'd be affectionate and intimate, but then she'd pull away and act distant. the more she shared with you and the closer you got, the more distant she became at times. once, she didn't even come over for a whole week.

naturally, you started to worry because now you felt closer to her than ever before.

“it’s not that deep bruh, i’m just busy with homework. don’t feel like screwing tonight anyway,” she’d say. and her words stung, because you didn't see her as just a fling anymore. but maybe you misjudged her, and the rumours were true. maybe she really didn't give a shit.

so, of course, you started pulling away too. even when she tried reaching out and acting like she hadn't been a jerk, you kept your distance. you ignored her texts and calls, locked your door at night, and avoided her on campus.

eventually, she got the message and left you alone, moving on to the next person.

nat never admitted it, but after things ended between you two, she hardly felt satisfied with anyone else. she'd pretend she was, but truth be told, whenever she closed her eyes, she'd think of you. the sounds you made, the way your skin felt against hers, your hitched breaths against her ear—it was only when she thought of you that she'd climax.

she’d also remember those mornings you spent together, her fingers through your hair while you slept, stopping as soon as she felt you stir.

though there was still no contact, you couldn't help but notice her from afar. catching her staring at you often, she'd quickly look away, but it happened too frequently to be coincidental. it happened in the cafeteria, the locker room, even the library—what was she doing there anyway? she didn't even study.

it wasn't until some other girl got overly touchy and flirty with you at a party that nat finally reached out.

 ୨   ﹙ 🦇 ﹚drabble ୧  

natalie, nursing a cheap beer in her hand, watched with silent fury as the girl wrapped her arms around you. she cursed to herself, taking a swig of her drink to calm her nerves. it was ridiculous how possessive she felt. she knew she had no right to feel jealous since she'd never even made her thoughts known to you, but there it was–jealousy bubbling beneath the surface. angry at herself, natalie pushed through the crowd, stepping between the two of you.

"excuse me," she interrupted the interaction, the other girl stepping back in surprise. her voice held a dangerous undertone, the mocking tone replaced by a sharp edge. "she’s with me."

with a forceful grip on your arm, natalie pulled you aside, leading you towards the balcony. the cool air outside felt refreshing in comparison to the warm, stuffy atmosphere indoors. she pushed you up against the railings with little effort, standing so close that her body almost brushed up against yours. her breath hung heavy in the still air, her grip tight around your arm.

“so,” she said, her tone soft yet menacing at the same time. “are you with her?”

"so?" you retorted defiantly. "why do you even care?" your words sounded harsher than intended, but you were growing annoyed. she had ignored you and now acted possessive? no fucking way.

her grip tightened around your arm, the change of tone in her voice making her serious. "don't play dumb," she said forcefully. "just answer the question."

"i'm not playing dumb, and screw you," you said angrily, moving your hand away from her grip and pushing her away. "you treated me like shit and then acted like nothing happened, and now you're being all territorial?" you asked incredulously. "what's your fucking problem? do you have any idea how much pain you put me through when you ghosted me?"

she stepped back, surprised by your sharp words. for a few moments, she stood still, seemingly stunned by your response. her face remained expressionless, but from the quick way her gaze darted to the ground, she appeared to be caught off guard. eventually, she straightened up, a bit of coldness settling in her demeanor.

"my problem?" she replied. “you’re my fucking problem!”

"why the fuck would i be the problem?" you demanded, your voice rising slightly.

"why would you be the problem?" natalie echoed, her voice tinged with frustration. "because every damn time i try to move on, i see you everywhere. i hear you and think of those days we spent together. every time i try to just go and be with someone else, i’m always thinking of you instead."

you stood there, taken aback by natalie's raw confession. her words hung heavy in the air, punctuating the tension between you. "shit, natalie," you said, your voice softer now, your anger dissipating into a mix of frustration and empathy. "why didn't you say something? we could have talked about this."

"i couldn't," she admitted frankly, her expression softening slightly. a brief silence followed, the sound of traffic below filling the air. "i was scared," she confessed. "i've never felt this way about anyone. and you know my reputation, i don't exactly fit the 'girlfriend material' mold," she added with an ironic chuckle.

"so, i stayed away," she went on. "i convinced myself i could just stick to the usual. have a fling, move on, forget. but it never worked." there was another pause, this one lasting longer than it should. the atmosphere between you grew heavy, almost like a weight pressing down. "i’ve been trying to move on from you for so long," she confessed, "but no matter how many other people i tried to be with, no one ever measured up. nothing felt the same."

"the way i could just watch you for hours as you slept beside me, the way i always looked forward to sneaking into your dorm at night, the way my hands trembled when you touched me, or the way my heart raced every time i thought about you..."

she had to pause to gather herself, her voice starting to crack and falter as she continued. "i was scared to feel that, so i avoided it."

a heavy silence hung in the air as nat took a deep breath, finally calming down.

"then i realized," she continued, a newfound seriousness in her voice. "that no matter how many shitty one-night stands i had, no matter how many random people i tried to distract myself with, none of it mattered. i would always come back to you, to those feelings that i've tried my damn hardest to run away from."

she stepped closer, her voice lowering to a barely audible whisper.

“but now, i'm willing to put all that aside, because i know what i want."

as nat finished speaking, her words hanging in the charged air between you, she closed the distance between you with a determined step. without hesitation, she reached up, gently cupped your face in her hands, and pressed her lips softly against yours. the kiss was tender yet full of the intensity of her emotions, conveying everything she couldn't put into words. you couldn’t resist returning the kiss, missing the familiar taste of her lips, like cheap beer and cigarettes. as she pulled you closer by the waist, you wrapped your arms around her neck.

"i want you," she continued after breaking the kiss, her voice firmer and more certain. "i want to be with you. i know i haven't treated you fairly, i know i've made a lot of mistakes, but i promise i'm willing to change all that."

you looked into her eyes, searching for any signs of dishonesty, but found none. “if you ever hurt me, i swear i’ll fucking kill you, natalie,” you said seriously. "i'm not just a toy for you to play with, do you understand?"

"i'm never going to hurt you," she replied softly, her hands still gently caressing your waist. "i know i've been a jerk, i know i've been distant, but trust me, i'm not going to do that again. not when you mean this much to me," she said sincerely.

"you mean it?" you asked, feeling the tension in your chest release as you saw the honesty in her eyes. "you're not going to disappear like you did last time?"

"i promise i will never break your trust again," she said solemnly. this time, her words sounded more genuine, as if she believed them herself. she tightened her grip on your waist and continued, "from now on, i’ll always be upfront with you, no matter how messy or hard it gets. i won't give you any more mixed signals."

“well, looks like i’ve gotta believe you now,” you said, suppressing a smile. “i'm ready to trust you again; let's just hope it works out this time.”

the two of you stood in silence for a while, soaking in the moment and each other's presence. you couldn't help but notice the faint smile on natalie's face, as if she was just as relieved as you were to be together again. then, she finally broke the silence.

"so, does that mean you’re my girlfriend now?" she asked, a playful smile spreading across her face.

“all yours,” you replied, pulling her into a deep kiss, which she eagerly returned.

[magicalbats]

When There's Lightning (Cyno x reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 11,102

Warnings: afab!reader, chubby!reader, pining, unrequited feelings, established relationship (with Al-Haitham), possession, noncon, nipple play, biting, scratching, marking, unprotected sex, creampie, knotting

A/N: This is the second to last commission from this batch, and I am so, so happy I got to work on this one. The setting, the scenario I was given, the character. Mwuah. Chefs kiss. I hope everyone else enjoys it too! @frozenfauna you've been one of my greatest friends over the years and it was such an honor to fulfil your vision. Thank you for always offering me your support and advice when I need it most. 🫶🏻

⭐

There’s a heaviness in the crisp morning air, but Cyno can’t tell if it’s real or a figment of his imagination. 

He thinks it could go either way, really, as he stands there with his arms crossed over his chest and watches the spectacle that unfolds before him. It almost makes him sick, almost makes him reconsider the wisdom in even taking on this task in the first place. But in defense of his decision making abilities he knew full and well that the source of the problem was within him, so he couldn’t really blame anyone but himself for his own misery. 

It’s certainly not your fault that the almost iridescent glow of bright early morning sunlight bounces off your cheeks to make you look truly ethereal, and it’s not Al-Haitham’s fault that it makes Cyno want to kiss you so bad. That blasted Al-Haitham. In truth he hadn’t even thought the scribe would make an appearance today let alone linger for as long as he had. He was usually much too strict with his clockwork schedule to deviate much from its well worn path but evidently, for you, he was willing to bend a little. 

And Cyno really couldn’t blame him. 

“Don’t forget to take a break every once and a while when I’m gone, okay? And make sure you eat regularly too.” 

Scoffing a quiet sound, Al-Haitham sedately reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is soft and affectionate, even when his words don’t quite seem to match. “I think I should be the one telling you that. I value my time far too much to lose track of it but you on the other hand …”

“Oh, stop it!” You huff, delivering a quick and lighthearted swat to the meat of his bicep, and Al-Haitham graces you with one of his secretively small smiles. It used to be a rare, nearly unheard of occurrence for the scribe but it’s been making more and more frequent appearances recently. It was pretty clear what the cause of it was. 

“You and I both know I’m not exaggerating. Stick a dusty old slate in front of you and you’ll get lost in it for hours on end if no one intervenes.” 

“Alright look, this isn’t about me right now.” Laughing softly, you nudge even closer to your paramour until the two of you are practically standing right on top of one another. Huddled close, your voices drop to an intimate whisper as you share your final goodbyes. 

Rolling his eyes under the brim of his mantle, Cyno quickly glances away to focus his attention elsewhere. He couldn’t bear to observe another moment of this, but obligation as well as the pretense of needing to appear as if his heart wasn’t twisting itself into knots inside his chest keeps him firmly rooted in place. He would endure it just as he always had and you would remain ever unaware of the turmoil that wages a bloody war within him whenever he stood in your presence. It was torture but it was also the right thing to do. 

He and Al-Haitham were friends, and you’d already made your choice. There was nothing left for him to do but accept it and move on. 

That was far easier said than done though, and Cyno has to try very hard to keep his expression neutral when you finally shuffle over to where he’s standing just off to the side of the city gate. Adjusting the straps of the heavy pack over your shoulders, you give him a bright, eager smile that feels like the sharp jab of a dagger in his gut but he pretends not to notice it just as he has with everything else about this unfortunate situation. 

“Ready to go?” 

“Yep!” You bob your head once, practically dancing on your toes in excitement. Clearly you were looking forward to this trek out into the desert a great deal and Cyno couldn’t conceive dallying even a moment longer knowing just how important this expedition was to you. But if it weren’t for Al-Haitham the two of you would have already long departed and set off without any need for further delay. If it weren’t for Al-Haitham … 

“Do me a favor and try to keep her out of trouble for me, yeah?” The scribe calls over, drawing Cyno’s gaze. 

“Of course. That’s why I’m tagging along, isn’t it? All the preparations have already been made so you’ve got nothing to worry about. By my estimate we should have enough provisions to last about a week out there but I’m sure we’ll be back before then. The el-Bahari temple isn’t that far from Caravan Ribat.” 

Giving a single nod of acknowledgment, Al-Haitham turns his gaze on you. “And did you remember to bring your waterskins?”

“My answer hasn’t changed since the last time you asked that question. Yes, habibi, I have my waterskins.” You give a quiet laugh and, seeing his chance, Cyno quickly jumps to take it. 

“Good, and I have a backup in case you need it. I also took the liberty of packing us a lunch for later. I hope you like sand-wiches.” 

A beat of surprised, befuddled silence passes over the still gate before you let out a mildly flustered huff of air. 

“Oh, Cyno …” 

Exhaling a slow breath of his own, Al-Haitham shifts his weight and brings a hand up to brace on his hip. “If he’s comfortable enough to be making jokes then I trust you’re in good hands. Have a safe trip and try not to do anything too reckless. Don’t forget how dangerous the desert can be even with a Matra at your side.” 

“The General Mahamatra.” You correct, shooting Cyno a quick smile. “We’ll be just fine, won’t we?” 

He honestly isn’t so sure about that when he can feel the lump in his throat solidifying into something that threatens to choke him up. But he still nods, hearing himself say, “Yes, there won’t be any problems while I’m with you.” 

He just sorely hoped that was true. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The temple is a cavernous, sprawling monument that seems to stretch on for miles and miles. Among the largest that still remained, it would have taken weeks, possibly even months to explore the whole place and all its secrets. There were innumerable compartments and hidden rooms littered throughout its winding halls and subterranean levels, but luckily most of the hard work had already been done by past researchers of yesteryear. Those enterprising scholars had diligently mapped out every nook and cranny they could access to the point where el-Bahari was largely overlooked by most modern day academics who didn’t see the value in studying something that had already been studied ad nauseum. 

But you were not most academics. 

It was one of the many things Cyno liked about you, and as the two of you step into the spacious antechamber just within the great entrance hall he can feel his admiration for you growing ever stronger. He himself may not have been the most studiously inclined but he’d spent more than his fair share of time around people who were. In fact, he quite enjoyed the more eclectic ones and you are no different in that regard. 

The change in your demeanor is clear as day when you hone in on the hieroglyphics carved into the slate effigy just up ahead and he watches you make a purposeful beeline towards it with a fond twinge. Yours were not the first eyes to alight upon the stone figure by a long shot but it is that unguarded passion which sets you apart from all the rest. It wasn’t fame you were after or even a need for more research funding that had brought you here, and it is likewise what convinced him to play bodyguard in this manner. That, and the fact he couldn’t have in good conscience left your safety in the hands of anyone else. Your heart was in the right place and so was his. 

Sedately trailing in your wake, Cyno comes up behind where you’re knelt to inspect the inscription at the base of the figure. He allows himself only a brief moment of appreciatively glancing over your hunched frame before dragging his attention upward. It is a statue of Hermanubis, he realizes with a mild pang of familiarity. 

“This is impressive work for a temple not dedicated specifically to the grand priest.” He offhandedly comments, earning himself a quick look from you. 

“You’ve never been here before?”

“Only once, and it wasn’t in any capacity that would have allowed me to casually look around. Paleontology isn’t my strong suit so the remains of ruins don’t usually hold much interest for me.”

Blinking in rather open surprise now, you tip your head back to look at him full on. “That’s a bit of a surprise. You’re originally from the desert, aren’t you? I would have thought you’d be more interested in the connection you share with places like this.” 

“I may have been born here but all I’ve really ever known is the city in the rainforest. I’m afraid there isn’t much I even remember about my time spent here.” 

Noising a soft sound of acknowledgment, you start to say something else but then your eyes drift away from him to focus on another part of the dusty antechamber. Thoroughly distracted, you push back up to your feet before shuffling over to regard a mural painted on the adjacent wall. Cyno watches after you for a moment — to make certain you’re safe and the perimeter secured, or so he tells himself — before redirecting his gaze back up at the statue. 

It’s not as if he could really deny the truth in what you’d said. Even if he didn’t remember it much this was still his birthplace and, feeling compelled, he reaches out a hand to press his palm flat to the smooth detail of Hermanubis’ slate leg. 

A zap of static electricity instantly rushes through his skin and he yanks his hand back like he’d been burned. Unease starts to snake through his gut as he hesitantly peers down at his own fingers, half expecting to find them charred to a blackened crisp. The skin is resoundingly unharmed though, as if he’d only imagined that intense electrical surge and nothing more. How odd. 

“Cyno?” 

Snapping out of it with a small jolt, the Mahamatra turns to look over at you through the shadowy, dust mote ridden gloom. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, just … checking in on you.” Your wavering smile quickly stabilizes and grows, spreading across your face with an eagerness that makes his heart race. “I think this is the right place. It’s exactly like the books in the House of Daena described. Now we just need to find that mechanism it mentioned.” 

Shrugging off that disconcerting rush of electricity, Cyno turns from the ancient monument of Hermanubis and wanders in your direction. “A mechanism? Are you looking for a hidden room of some kind?” 

He hadn’t bothered to ask about the details when they meant so little to him in the grand scheme of things. Keeping you safe and hydrated in the arid desert heat had been the top concern at the forefront of his mind up until now, but he was starting to wish he’d at least hedged the topic a little bit. All he knew was that there was something here you’d wanted to study and, given all the foot traffic this particular temple has seen over the last few decades, he hadn’t thought this would turn into a very labor intensive expedition. 

Anxiously adjusting your supplies pack, you glance around the otherwise untouched and silent chamber. Still excited and eager, but perhaps feeling a bit daunted now by the full scope of this undertaking. “According to those books there should be some sort of prayer room dedicated to Hermanubis somewhere in here. A scholar was able to get inside and notate what he saw a few hundred years ago, but once the door closed he couldn’t get it open again. Many people after him tried to no avail before eventually deeming the mechanism broken and everything inside was quickly classified as lost relics.” 

“And you think you can repair it?” Cyno asks, tipping his head to one side inquisitively. 

“I’m going to try.” You optimistically shoot back and it makes the knot in his stomach twist just that little bit tighter. Whether it was his intuition or a sixth sense premonition, Cyno couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. 

It didn’t feel like danger in the strictest definition of the word. There was no one else inside this temple that he could discern, at the very least no one who was alive and breathing. Even as far as regional fauna was concerned the only creatures he’d spotted were the occasional scorpions that skittered across the block-tiled floor. They were likely the only humans within miles of this place. 

But then what was this oppressive, static charged atmosphere hanging in the air? If he hadn’t known any better he’d almost think a thunderstorm was fast approaching with all the destructive force of the gods themselves but it wasn’t the right season for that. There were no monsoons coming in off of the southern coast for at least another few months. So what was it then? 

You’re speaking again, he realizes, rattling off something about a corridor up ahead that should take you where you need to go. At his soft hum of acknowledgement, you start to shuffle further into the ruins but Cyno hangs back long enough to peer up at the statue of Hermanubis again, as if it would give him any of the answers. 

It doesn’t, of course. He isn’t naive or fanciful enough to be disappointed by that, and he just gives his head a slow shake when he feels the spirit dwelling within him start to stir slightly. This was not the time or the place for his control to start slipping. He was going to have to be exceedingly careful moving forward. 

“Are you coming, Cyno?” You call back to him, already halfway across the room. 

Pointedly stamping down his unease, he steps around the broad base of the statue and makes his way after you. In his dominant hand, he idly flexes his grip around the long polearm he carries, hoping the comforting and familiar weight of it would help ground him. He isn’t so sure it works but for your sake he wasn’t about to let his focus slip that easily. There was a job for him to do and he was determined to see it through to the end. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

An hour or so later, you finally find the mechanism. 

It is an odd, curiously constructed device that Cyno, for his part, can make no logical sense of. The apparatus in the center of the tri-pronged base doesn’t look like it should do much of anything after having lain still and dormant for so many centuries, and even at its inception he’s unable to puzzle out what purpose it may have served. But he knows just enough about the ancient technology of King Deshret’s long bygone kingdom that he recognizes it for what it is and understands that it should do something. 

He isn’t quite convinced that it can be repaired though, but he keeps those thoughts to himself as you kneel down and set your glowing lantern aside to get a closer look at the structure. Your brow is knit in concentration as you poke and prod at the thing, feeling along the base of it where it’s securely anchored into the floor. Even though Cyno isn’t a bad hand when it comes to puzzles he knew that the inner workings of technology this old and esoteric was more than a bit beyond his scope. 

So he takes the chance to glance around the room, noting the mural faded from the cruel passage of time on the opposite wall and the air ducts in the ceiling. The two of you had traveled quite deep into the ruins to reach this place and yet there always seemed to be a distant, vague current of oxygen traveling through even the deepest recesses of the monument's bowels. The ancient civilizations that once flourished here were especially adept builders and it was clear that they’d even left behind a very functional ventilation system that supplied most if not the whole entire place with a stuffy, slow moving draft. 

It was much appreciated even if it didn’t do much to dispel all the dust and sand grit hanging in the air, and he slowly turns back around after completing a full circuit survey of the immediate area. You were still fiddling with the mechanism, groping along the side of one of the tall prongs as if in search of a hidden switch of some kind now, and his growing curiosity finally wins out. 

“Are you truly confident you can get it to work again?” 

“Of course I am.” You murmur, distracted by the task at hand as much as the beads of sweat slowly starting to form and roll down your temple. It was a bit stifling in here. “What, don’t I seem like I’m brimming with confidence? I thought you’d have more faith in me.” 

Cyno tries to fight it but he grudgingly allows himself to smile at that, taking consolation in the knowledge that you were much too preoccupied to notice it. “My apologies for bruising your ego then but that’s not quite what I meant. It’s just that your expertise is more in the field of paleontology, isn’t it? I didn't expect you to have so much functional knowledge on the inner workings of a machine, particularly one as old as this.” 

Humming softly under your breath, you carefully follow the prongs up to the top of the apparatus where the center piece is located. “You’re not wrong about that.” You relent. “I’m certainly not Kaveh who can tinker around with just about anything and figure out how it works. I’m also not like Al-Haitham who just has that kind of information on hand for no other reason than he happened to read it in a book once before.” 

A sharp pang shoots through Cyno’s chest at the mention of your lover and he rather stiffly shifts his weight from one foot to the next to conceal it. “Perhaps we should have asked Kaveh to come with us then.” He says, pointedly avoiding saying the same about the scribe. 

“That’s only a last resort if I don’t have any other choice. I wanted to try it myself first. Just to see if I could do it, you know?” 

He lifts a brow. “And you think you can do it because …?” 

“I read a book about it.” 

It’s such a decidedly Al-Haitham answer that Cyno can’t quite stop himself from scoffing, as impressed by the simple gumption of it as he is rueful about the unintentional reminder that you hadn’t picked him. That it wasn’t his personality traits and bad habits rubbing off on you rather than the genius scribe’s. 

But the sound is thoroughly masked when you seem to at last locate what you’re looking for and, with a triumphant exclamation, the mechanism starts to glow a faint, almost iridescent blue. The suddenness of activity is close to startling for as unassuming and benign it is, and Cyno is immediately on high alert with his spear at the ready. 

Nothing happens though. The floor neither gives out in a crumbling mess of debris and stale sand, and neither does the ceiling collapse down on top of the two of you in wrathful vengeance. Everything is just as still and as quiet as it had been seconds before the apparatus abruptly came to life, save the hushed sound of excitement you make as you sit back to admire your handy work. 

“There! Now that that’s taken care of we can move on to step two!” 

Cyno really doesn’t like the tendril of unease that forms in his gut now. “There’s more?” 

“Yes, if the texts were right then there should be a secondary piece of the mechanism that we’ll need to adjust so that the two can connect with one another. That's easier said than done though, of course.” Heaving a quiet sigh, you push up to your feet and wipe your hands off on your pants. “This is the part that stumped all the previous scholars who tried to get inside this room. The positioning needs to be very exact for them to communicate and …” 

“And?” 

Sheepishly, you turn your attention elsewhere. “No one could quite figure out where the second piece is but there was some suspicion that it might be in a part of the temple that suffered a collapse. It’ll take some digging around on our part, I’m afraid.” 

Cyno’s grip on his polearm tightens, making the knuckles creak softly under the force. “Alright. I’ll help you look for it but we’re not splitting up.”

“What? But that’ll take so much longer!” 

“I don’t care.” He hisses, all but biting out his words now. “This place is massive. If you get turned around in here it could take me hours just to find you again, not to mention if something were to go wrong. I came here to protect you and that is what I will do. Either we stay together or we can leave and return to Caravan Ribat right now. Those are your only two options.” 

For a moment you look truly stunned by that declaration. The disbelief is written across your face in broad sweeping brushstrokes, confusion and even a pinch of affront creeping into your startled expression. It’s like you couldn’t believe what he was saying to you and, in all honesty, Cyno is a little surprised at himself too. 

He hadn’t meant to drop the tone of his voice and take on the kind of stern, authoritative command he’d usually only implement with criminals or lower ranked Matra who answered to him. You were neither of those things and he’d never spoken to you like that before. 

Whatever had come over him quickly clears though, the fog rolling back and dissipating from his mind to leave him once again clear headed and in control. Drawing a clipped breath, Cyno readies an apology for his slip but you’re quick to turn away from him, giving him your back now. 

“Fine. I understand the position you’re in so I won’t argue about it but don’t talk to me like that again, Cyno. You may be the Mahamatra but I’m your friend, not one of your subordinates nor a child you get to reprimand.” 

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He softly relents, feeling some mixed up, confusing sentiment welling within his chest which slowly expands with the steadying breath he draws. On one hand there was an undeniable sense of guilt at having forgotten himself like that, for snapping at you when you didn’t deserve it, and that loss of control worries him even for as brief as it had been. But on the other there existed a sort of pride in your ability to not only set your boundaries but also enforce them. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that you would deliver a punishing dose of retribution if he slipped up again, and it made him all the more appreciative that it was you who had captured his heart rather than any other. 

You were fierce in your own way and he respected that, even when you simply refuse to acknowledge his apology and instead shuffle off in a direction seemingly picked at random. He’s quick to follow, although he allows you to keep a few paces ahead so as not to intrude on your personal space given your current agitation with him. It could be mended in time, consolations given to soothe the ache given by careless words to vulnerable pride, but your safety was non-negotiable. Cyno would prefer you to be angry with him for decades to come before he ever conceded you to the shadowy underbelly of the great al-Bahari temple. 

The notion that he himself might be the greatest danger you face within the labyrinthine tombs never so much as crosses his mind. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The second half of the mechanism is finally located and, with no small amount of head scratching, you and Cyno at last manage to maneuver it into position. The blue pulsing light from the first could now shine its incandescent beam into the receiving center node via a series of reflective surfaces along the pathway, which his knack for puzzles had helped a great deal with. A distant rumble of inner mechanical workings grinding open can be heard even from far down the long dusty corridor, and the two of you quickly hurry back to the antechamber room where the locked door resided. 

At some point in the last few odd hours, it seemed that you’d forgotten you were supposed to be upset with him for his carelessness and both of you had worked in amicable solidarity with one another, for which he was immensely glad. But to avoid reopening that stinging wound to pride and ego, he’d decided to hold off on trying to apologize for it again until after you’d already made your way out of the ruins together. It wouldn’t do to further escalate an argument you were willing to let rest, after all, and more importantly he still didn’t have the best feeling about the preceding series of events that brought both of you here. There was something strange hanging in the air, like a subtle electrical current so weak all he could pick up from it was the occasional, distant pulse of crackling energy. 

He realizes then, only when you and him reenter the sealed antechamber to find the once tightly shut door now wide open, that he hadn’t felt particularly good about any of this. Even that dewy morning standing in front of the city gates three days prior had carried with it a vague sense of foreboding in retrospect. He’d chalked it up to Al-Haitham’s presence at the time, his own traitorous heart creating rifts where they ought not exist, but these ruins had only further highlighted that something was not right. 

First it had been the statue of Hermanubis and the static shock he’d felt the moment his fingers grazed its smooth surface. The stormy tension in his body had continued to steadily mount after that until he then snapped at you, something he neither thought you deserved or understood the cause of. He wasn’t upset with you, couldn’t imagine being mad enough about anything to lose his cool as he had. 

And now he was watching you make a beeline straight towards the gaping, silent maw of the room's entrance that would take you into a part of the temple that hadn’t seen another living being in almost three hundred years. Only untrampled grounds lay ahead from here on out and Cyno just couldn’t wrap his head around any of it. 

But he follows, hot on your heels and with his spear clutched so tightly in hand that he half expected to feel the slick ooze of blood dripping down his palm at any moment. His heart pounds a wild, trapped animal rhythm against the interior of his ribcage as he quickens his pace only enough to reach the threshold before you do. He doesn’t cross it but rather stops just at the edge of it and peers inside the ancient chamber with the aid of the flickering lantern he holds up in his opposite fist. 

He has but a few seconds to take stock of the new surroundings. The shape of the room is that of an inverted T with the doorway situated along the widest part, and at the far end directly from where he stood was another stately effigy in honor of Hermanubis, the lost great sage. 

You’re coming up behind him then, easily sidestepping and going on ahead to wander further into the gloomy dark and down the perfectly straight aisle. Cyno almost catches himself trying to stop you but he refrains, because he knew it would be futile when you already had your sights set on the goal and because he simply wasn’t confident that he would be able to find his voice. 

The atmosphere in this space isn’t just heavy or oppressive, it’s downright bone crushing. He can scarcely draw a full breath and he wonders how it is that you don’t appear to even notice it, but then he feels the spirit within him shift towards wakefulness. It made a certain amount of sense, of course. If this particular room really was meant to venerate and pay tribute to Hermanubis then it didn’t seem so far-fetched that what was left of him on an immaterial level would react to these surroundings. There was familiarity here, but there was also a sinking, suffocating sense of dread. 

Willing the spirit back into dormancy, Cyno forces himself to move after you and he takes his first step into the chamber of worship. 

He regrets it almost instantaneously when a sharp, debilitating zap of electricity races up his leg into the rest of him and very nearly sends him sprawling on his ass. Staggering a step, he numbly stands there in frozen silence while that jolt of energy courses through every inch of him like a hot livewire. But unlike before, unlike the first time in the great hall just beyond the entrance to this place, it doesn’t fizzle out or dissipate. It just keeps bouncing around inside him, traveling the continuous circuitry of his veins and tendons, every individual ligament and bone until it at last finds the dwelling place of that ancient soul. 

The resulting surge of power feels to him like it rivals that of a lightning strike zeroed in on a metal rod and his body is the conduit that further amplifies it. Cyno draws a sharp, half strangled breath to warn you but his mouth is no longer capable of human speech. The words become jumbled and inarticulate, lodging firmly in his throat where they stay even when he manages to croak out a weak sound of distress into the stagnant air. You're too far ahead of him now though, you don’t hear it when you’re too busy using your own torch to light the handful of wall sconces at the far end of the narrow corridor. 

The flames that flicker to life are weak and irresolute at best, likely having very little oil left in their lamp wells to feed into the wicks for very long. But it’s enough to cast the room in a dull, almost eerie glow for the time being and he can now see that the statue is not the only thing residing on the far side of the room. 

There’s a raised dais situated directly in front of the towering slate figure and surrounding that platform on either side were over a dozen pots of clay, sealed with dried red wax and adorned with long wilted and decayed flower bundles. Further back sit chests of various sizes but all of which were of equal importance, as evidenced by their stately appearances and shapes. Some were painted in fine, vibrant colors with specks of gold worked throughout while others were meticulously hand carved to depict long forgotten scenes of a bygone civilization. And even further than that, beyond the numerous pots and chests and the dried out corsages, there were weapons lining the sides of the walls. Swords and spears, dusty old hunting bows and their decorated quivers, emblazoned shields and even war banners that were moth eaten to the point of being unsalvageable. 

Cyno understands then why you’d wanted to get into this room so badly. Why you’d refused to give up even after spending almost a whole hour on unearthing and then positioning one single mirror just right for it to reflect the incandescent beam the way it needed to. 

In the same breath he also understands, intrinsically and beyond even a shadow of a doubt, that this was no chapel of worship but rather a place of ritual and magick. This was a stage of offerings and sacrifice, an altar to the esoteric and the mystical. 

It was his altar. 

He startles at that sudden thought. 

Some fundamental part of him recognizes that it is not his own mind that had conjured the idea, that it was not his voice that spoke it into his ear with all the silken assurity of simple fact. But even knowing that the only possible explanation was that the fragmented spirit was the one who thought and who said it, he was suddenly having a very hard time differentiating between the two. Where did he end and where did Hermanubis begin? Had they ever been separate entities at all, or had he only imagined that they were? 

Helpless before its great power, Cyno can do nothing but watch as if from a great distance as he drops the lantern in his hand with a dull clatter and his body takes another step forward, and then another. He’s no longer in control of himself but he can’t quite seem to wrestle it back from the Tighnarian sage, or what was left of him. It’s like being trapped inside a prison of his own flesh and blood. He can hear his lungs drawing breath, can even hear you excitedly talking about the contents of the room as he draws nearer, but he can’t make his mouth move the way he wants it to. He also can’t stop his feet from carrying him up onto the dais, his hand coming up to reach for you even when he wills it to stop. 

All at once you seem to notice that something is wrong and he rails against his own skin when you turn to look up at him. It’s like he’s seeing you through a hazy lens, the edges of his vision grainy and wavering as if he were standing in the middle of a dense, encumbering fog, but your face he can see in almost startling clarity. The kissable lips that call and beckon to him even now, the soft quality of your rounded cheeks and, perhaps most clearly of all, the surprise reflected in your widened eyes when you find him standing directly behind you. 

There’s no chance for you to react. He watches himself grab your upper arm and physically drag you away from the statue, towards the center of the raised platform. You squawk in surprise, trying to wrench yourself free and dig your feet into the ground to stop the forward motion but it’s no use. Even if he’d been in his right mind you never would have stood a chance before his far greater strength. You, an academic and a scholar who spent most of her free time in the House of Daena, while he trained day in and day out to hone the tightly packed musculature in his body. 

His looks were deceiving and many a criminal has had to come to terms with that firsthand. Now it seemed to be your turn to realize exactly what he was capable of. This isn’t what Cyno wanted for you but all he can do is watch on, his horror mirroring yours, as he mercilessly shoves you onto the ground. The resulting bodily thump sends shockwaves of anger coursing through his system and he rages, pounding against the invisible barrier that keeps him locked out of his own personhood. You're completely unaware of any of it as you gingerly push up onto your elbows, peering at him through the flickering shadows. 

“Cyno? What are you …”

Trailing off when he extends his hand out to the side, you watch him drop his staff with a seemingly careless gesture. The heavy clatter of his weapon hitting the floor seems to frighten you into action and you twist, clambering on hands and knees to get away from him but it’s much too late for that. He’s too quick, and he descends upon you with a vengeance. 

His hands grab at you, ripping you back by the shoulders to make you sprawl out at his feet. Your shriek of terror goes unheeded and he drops to straddle you, locking his knees around your middle even as you wildly thrash and kick in retaliation. You manage to get one good, solid punch in right on his sternum which nearly succeeds in winding him, a distant note of pride lighting up the back of his mind for a split second, but it’s all for naught. He easily manages to snag your flailing wrists and he leans forward to pin them against the dais with his weight. 

Your struggle only increases, ratcheting up to even greater levels of desperation as you mindlessly buck underneath him in an attempt to dislodge Cyno from his perch. He’s almost reminded of an unbridled wild horse out in the lawless desert, so determined to break free that you’d rather tire yourself to the point of exhaustion than give up. But he more than anyone else knows just how futile it really is. Your chances would have been slim anyway, but with the grand sage controlling his body … 

“Dammit, Cyno, let me go! This - this isn’t funny!” 

A low, rumbling snarl rises in him, vibrating through his chest up into his throat. It’s a truly animalistic sound, one that he’s never heard himself make before, but one that he’s caught Tighnari issue on rare occasions. It’s a growl of warning and threat. A vestigial leftover from when his race was still young at the dawn of the age and a little bit closer to animal than human. Cyno hadn’t even thought his vocal cords would have been capable of making that kind of noise, and he realizes the cause of it with no shortage of existential dread. 

All of your writhing has made his cock stir to life where it’s trapped between your body’s, his skintight pants doing very little to conceal or dissuade the swelling erection. It’s distant and vague, like he was experiencing it through the malleable gauze of a hydro slime, but the excitement pumping through his veins now is unmistakable. It almost disgusts him, almost makes him internally retch, and he quickly renews his frantic efforts to take back control. 

Unconcerned, or perhaps not even noticing the state of its host, the spirit leans further over you so it can shove his nose into the crook of your sweat dampened neck. The deep, savory inhale he’s forced to pull in brings with it a sweet, almost saccharine rush of endorphins and the smell of fertility which dizzyingly overloads his senses at its potency. He’s never experienced anything like it before, had never been able to scent something, let alone someone, on such a deeply primal level as this. It too must be a result of the grand sage’s physiology then. Something his human body wasn’t naturally capable of but which this horrid, stifling place had facilitated with its long dormant excess of power. 

Cyno cries out then, shouting at you to fight it off, when the energy starts to drain from your heaving body. Shuddering faintly underneath him, you reluctantly grow still and try to catch your breath while he noses at you, sniffing over your erratic pulse and behind your ear. The way he almost seems to affectionately nuzzle into your hair makes you swallow hard enough for him to hear the muscles in your throat working but no matter how much he yells you just can’t hear him. Even if you could, he isn’t so sure you would have listened to anything he had to say at this point. 

You didn’t really have any reason to trust him after this. 

“Please,” You gasp, in a voice so small and uncertain it doesn’t quite sound like yours anymore. “Don’t do this to me. Just let me up and - and we can talk. I promise. Al-Haitham - -“

He cuts you off with another low, threatening growl, one that Cyno almost finds himself in agreement with. Even in a situation like this you still couldn’t forget about the brilliant scribe waiting for you back home. It was almost as astounding as it was sickeningly foolish. 

At the same time he realizes just how horrific that thought actually is, and he reels back against himself in shock. Such notions were not his own. He could never think that way about anyone but least of all you. It was the sage, it was Hermanubis manipulating his feelings and twisting them into something they’re not, surely. Cyno may have been suffering in silence out of his love for you but that didn’t mean he’d ever think of you so disparagingly. He’d never — he could never - 

“Cyno, stop it!” 

Your shrill cry breaks through his stupor and he focuses back in on the sensation of running his teeth over your skin, lightly nipping at your throat. The taste of warm, salty skin floods his tastebuds at the first experimental lick and the spirit must find it just as delectable as he does because it quickly does it again. Ignoring your renewed struggle, noticeably weaker now, he simply laps over your pulse for a long moment, enjoying the feeling of blood wildly pounding a violent rhythm underneath the fleshy topmost layer. 

He soon sets his sights on what lies underneath though and his teeth come out to sink into the sensitive juncture of your neck. But what should have been a mere love bite, a surface marking at best, turns out to be something much more animalistic when Cyno feels his canines sink into your vulnerable throat. A sharp, haggard inhale rattles through you as skin breaks and blood wells up to rush inside his mouth. It nearly makes him gag even as his cock gives an eager, excited flex against your lower stomach, instincts that were not his own driving him ever closer to your inevitable ruin at his hands. 

Understandably horrified but helpless to stop it, Cyno watches from somewhere far removed from his own body as he extracts his teeth from the wounds and replaces them with what was supposed to be a soothing tongue. He recognizes it for what it is, even if this was not a behavior natural to him. A mating bond. A mark to claim ownership.

You must understand it too, surely, because you’ve suddenly become very still and quiet, save the hot tracks of tears running down your face. Either that or the blunt trauma to sensitive nerves had shocked you into a semi comatose state, but he doesn’t think that’s what it is. The friend group you’d been welcomed into even long before you’d started dating Al-Haitham was a very close one. Tighnari wasn’t exactly secretive when it came to this unique facet of his race’s culture and all of you had met his mother on more than one occasion. All of you had seen the long healed scar on the side of her neck. They didn’t make any qualms about it when such practices were just a normal part of their lives. 

But neither you nor Cyno were Tighnarians. It shouldn’t have even been possible for his human canines to pierce the skin so smoothly and, far more importantly, it shouldn’t mean the same thing either. It shouldn’t carry with it the same weight and authority as a true mating bond … right? 

He desperately tries to convince himself of that even as he leans back, sitting up to admire his bloody mark on your once pristine throat. The sight of it makes Cyno internally cringe away but there’s no escaping the proof of what he’s done to you when he himself was trapped inside his own mind. He’s a helpless spectator who can only track the motion of his hands when he releases your limp wrists and reaches for the front of your blouse. 

Fisting the soft cotton, all it takes is one solid tug to send the buttons flying and clattering across the dust covered ground. You gingerly tip your face in his direction, wincing slightly when even just that brief movement makes the tendons in your abused neck scream in protest. Flushed and panting, you look up at him as if in a daze and Cyno feels the first real tendril of genuine terror snake through him. You were visibly pale and sickly looking even in the shuddering light from the sconces on the wall, and his gaze nervously flicks towards the bite mark. Had that damned spirit opened up an artery? 

He doesn’t get his answer, of course, watching himself part the destroyed front of your blouse to reveal your heaving breasts to the static charged air. There’s a thin, flimsy brassiere standing in the way but he shreds that easily enough too, ripping it with a sharp jerk that makes your chest bounce free. He feels his mouth start to water at the sight of your bare tits, so round and heavy, the fat little nipples standing up on them perfectly inviting and juicy. It was a near perfect manifestation of what he’d envisioned they would look like, as is the rest of you. 

You’re so soft to behold and grabbable, especially in the middle where your trousers have created a fleshy pudge that begged to be affectionately squeezed. But instead he finds his hand reaching for your chest where he appreciatively palms the curve of one breast to feel the weight of it. You suck in a slow, delayed breath at the contact but it’s already too late for protests. He zeroes in on the stiffened bud with his fingers, pinching it and then tugging at it, and the way your back bows with a low whine makes his cock violently jump in his pants. 

They must be receptive, he realizes, and the spirit must realize it too, for he leans down to capture that fleshy nub in his mouth. The responding shockwave of intense arousal leaves him feeling lightheaded and borderline delirious even as he works over your teat with a harsh, demanding suck. Twitching at the sensation, you shift on top of the dais as if you were beginning to come to, yet your movements were still far too sluggish and weak to truly fight him off. All you succeed in doing is squirming underneath him, softly gasping while he pulls the stiffened nipple towards the back of his throat and vigorously suckles at it as if to draw out a spurt of warm milk. 

Logically Cyno knew you couldn’t possibly be lactating so it didn’t make any sense why he would feel so compelled to drink from your breast. It was, if nothing else, an effort in futility. But either due to the sharp, overwhelmingly potent cocktail of fertile hormones clouding his already compromised judgment or because the fragmented pieces of Hermanubis didn’t understand that you weren’t a Tighnarian female, he’s simply unable to make himself stop. He just keeps sucking and sucking, until he can feel the pulled taut bud of your nipple turning soft and malleable, and you finally rouse yourself enough to seethe at him to stop. 

Hissing like an incensed serpent, you manage to bring your hand up to shove at his head where it’s bent over your chest. At first it doesn’t look like it’s going to do you any good but then, much to Cyno’s shuddering relief, he backs off with one last sloppy wet slurp to your tit. He pushes up to look down at you, admiring the puffed up, darkened bud and the glistening sheen of moisture coating it. His cock leaks at the sight of you sprawled out underneath him like that, flexing against the second skin of his pants as if in demanding search of entry to your body. 

Even for as distant and dulled as it is when he was no longer in control of himself, he’s acutely aware of just how great his need really is. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been quite this hard or quite this sticky with eager precum. It wasn’t just that he wanted you in the simple way any man wants to sink himself into a warm, wet, welcoming body. He needed you to the point that it felt like he really might die if he didn’t follow through on it. 

The inherent fertile lushness of your womanly curves and heavy breasts call to him like a siren's song, and he watches himself reach out to tweak your poor, spit lathered nipple between his fingers. Fleshy and pliable, the engorged nub readily bends to the pressure he exerts and you grimace even as you try to push him away again. In retaliation, he gives your teat a mean little twist and pulls on it, making you squeal and dramatically arch your back to lessen some of the sting. 

It doesn’t work, of course, and by the time he finally releases you the nipple is achingly stretched and fresh tears are coursing down your face in heavy rivulets. There’s something almost humiliating about it, the way he plays with your tit for his own pleasure rather than yours, unconcerned with such trivial matters like how you might feel about it. 

Cyno’s guilt nearly matches his intense arousal, and he cringes in some potent combination of the two when he sedately reaches for your neglected breast next. You realize what he’s doing a split second later and, all but spitting at him, you viciously lash out to scratch at him with your nails. 

“You bastard! Stop!” 

He doesn’t so much as acknowledge the claws you rake down his neck and chest even though he can feel the sting of it through the muddled fog. It hurts, no doubt about that, but his body remains undeterred as he latches onto the cushiony swell of your tit and possessively squeezes, making the meat of it bulge up between his fingers. Starting to recover now after the shock of being bitten and claimed with a mating bond, you come alive under him again and you wildly twist in an attempt to free yourself. You’re cursing him, shrieking so wildly your voice starts to become hoarse, but it’s like he doesn’t even hear it. The external, physical form of him is some immovable, unflinching force that only seems to know how to take, take, take and you have no choice but to give. 

Pinching your chest tight enough to make the nipple bulge up and out, Cyno swoops down to flick his tongue over the stiffened tip. You mewl faintly at the sensation, scrabbling to get your sweat coated hands around his neck so you can shove him off. He doesn’t give you a chance to get your grip in place though, his teeth once again coming out to bite down on your teat, and you abruptly go stock still at the first hint of pressure. Given how easily he’d torn into your neck your fear was well founded, but all he does is lightly grind his jaw back and forth for a moment before tugging on the bud. You seethe at the stretch, idle fingers flexing helplessly against his shoulders. 

“Damn you, Cyno … once I tell Al-Haitham about this you’ll pay! Do you hear me?” You half sob, hiccuping softly on your grief. “You need to stop this before you make it even worse for yourself. I’m willing to protect you if you’ll just listen b - but this bite mark …” 

His ears perking at the name of your lover as much as the empty threats, the Mahamatra watches himself release your straining nipple and sit back to look down at you. Casually, he reaches out to pinch the teat and twist it, making you weakly yowl at the discomfort, but he remains ever unmoved. Your reasoning and bargaining would never reach him as long as he was not the one piloting his own body, and Al-Haitham had no power here in this ancient place of sacrifice. 

Sacrifice. 

Everything comes crashing down on what was left of Cyno’s subconscious mind all at once. That was what had given the spirit within him the boost needed to overpower his consciousness. It was responding to this place and the residual, lingering magick therein, and it probably wouldn’t be quelled back into slumber until after the ritual had been completed. The material offerings were already here, leftovers from centuries spent in seclusion and silence where even the dead did not dare tread, their tithings delivered in sealed clay pots adorned with flowers and dozens of artisan crafted chests. All that was left was a pound of flesh and blood. 

Your flesh and your blood that was already staining the collar of your blouse and drying against the side of your neck. 

What remains of him reels at the tidal rush of understanding that floods into his mind but even enlightenment is not enough for him to wrestle back his control. All he can do is watch in dismay and stomach twisting dread as Hermanubis directs his hands down to your pants. Outright shrieking now, you mindlessly kick and pound your fists against him to no avail. His patience with the buttons quickly wears thin and he resorts to simply grabbing two handfuls of the crotch, ripping it apart at the seams with a violent wrench that jostles you. Gasping for breath, you twist around and try to drag yourself away from him but he just grabs what’s left of your torn trousers and drags you back to the center of the dais. 

Even as you beg and plead for him not to do it, Cyno’s hands once again descend upon the shredded fabric and he rips an even wider hole down the center. He quickly flips you back over then, forcing you to look up at him while he yanks his own pants down and out of the way with a clatter of his golden sash. You fight him every step of the way, just as fierce and unrelenting as he’d known you to be, but you were regretfully outmatched. No amount of struggle on your part deters him when he was not in his right mind or capable of making any conscious decisions, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. 

An intense shudder races up his spine the moment his wet cockhead hits the air, so sticky with oozing precum it almost feels like he’s found release once already. He knows that’s not true though and his back molars ache terribly at the blind surge of sharp tinged arousal that crashes through him as he moves to position himself between your legs. Keeping your lower half pinned and in place with one hand, squeezing the meat of your love handles hard enough to bruise, he sets his sights on your dainty little panties next. But rather than shred them the same as he had your pants, he simply hooks his finger and yanks the laughably thin fabric aside. 

The first glimpse of your sweet, fleshy cunt very nearly bowls him over on the spot and his mind reels in something not unlike disbelief. This part of you is even more lovely and inviting than he’d imagined it to be, when he dared to imagine it at all. Soft, pudgy lips create a tantalizing seam that runs up the centerline of your body, the hair there framing the flushed part so perfectly it seems intentionally made to further torment him. Most surprising of all though is the vague dampness wetting the curls as if you were excited. Like having your nipples pulled and tweaked, and hungrily sucked had turned your own body against you in the worst possible way. He knew you didn’t actually want this, there was no way you could, and yet … and yet —

“Don’t you dare!” Your shrieking suddenly registers in his mind and he internally jolts at the frantic terror in your voice. 

The sight of you spread out underneath him, wet and ready and waiting, so soft and round in all the right places, had momentarily taken him out of the moment. But now he has no choice but to look at you, wide eyed and tear stained, covered in your own blood, sucking in half strangled gasps for air while he stiffly guides himself to your entrance. There’s no stopping it though, he just can’t seem to overpower the great sage no matter how hard he rails against it, and the backs of his eyes start to tingle as soon as his cock presses into that center seam. 

He pushes, using his body weight to sink himself inside the tight clutch between your legs and to keep you obediently in place for him. It’s probably not necessary at this point when you’ve all but exhausted yourself, screwing your eyes shut and seething at the pressure of having your cunt forcibly invaded, but otherwise staying mostly still. You also probably understand that any further struggle could cause you more harm and discomfort when it had already escalated this far. No matter how much you didn’t want it, it was about survival at this point. You were smart enough to see the wisdom in letting him have what he wants in the here and now, so you can exact retribution for his egregious actions later. And he doesn’t doubt that you will. 

But in the moment he’s much too consumed with the wet, gripping warmth of your inner sleeve to think too hard about what might await him once you leave the secluded isolation of this temple. There were sure to be consequences for what he’s done here and rightfully so, a pound of his flesh for yours. Yet that looming possibility doesn’t seem to hold much weight to it when your guts were actively working to suck him in. 

You hate every minute of it and that’s clear as day in your pinched facial expression but your cunt has a mind of its own, and it hungrily accepts his cock with a welcoming wet squelch. Excessive precum mixes and mingles with copious slick to smooth the glide of him into your body, making the penetration easy even when you valiantly try to clench the muscles and keep him out. Against your will, you take him one sinuous inch at a time until he at last settles snug and tight against your labia with nowhere else to go. Internally, his eyes start to roll back at the intense, pulsing warmth of you squeezing around him, but externally he remains as stonily unaffected as ever. Evidently Hermanubis was not nearly as moved by this situation as Cyno was, far more concerned about taking and claiming his offering than enjoying it. 

And he does take it, just as mercilessly and selfishly as he’d bitten into your neck to mark you as if you were little more than one of his long forgotten concubines. Hands braced against the dais now, he leverages himself into a steady rhythmic pace that has your tits energetically bouncing even as you continue to ineffectively push at his chest. You must know that it’s much too late to stop him when he was already driving his cock as far into your guts as it would go but that doesn’t stop you from trying. It also doesn’t stop the tears from streaking down your cheeks or the hushed, hiccuping sobs that his thrusts seem to dislodge from your throat. They’re so threadbare and soft that the quick paced plap plap plap of his hips smacking into you nearly drowns them out. 

Cyno feels sorry for you almost as much as he feels sorry for himself. This was not the way he wanted to have you nor was it the way he thought you deserved to be taken. But the physical compulsion driving his hips forward is almost as powerful as the spirits hold on him, and he can’t stop it. You just felt so good gripping his cock and you looked divine under him even with a wet face and dried blood starting to flake on your neck. It’s no wonder he gives himself over to the pleasure, ill gotten though it may be. Throws himself into it with abandon and he doesn’t try to fight it when he feels his swaying balls draw up in warning. 

Thrusts stuttering at the onset of his orgasm, he doesn’t immediately understand why it feels like you’ve gotten ten times tighter until it abruptly occurs to him that his range of movement has been mysteriously reduced. Where once he’d been able to freely piston into the welcoming cradle between your legs, he now finds he can only move back a small fraction before being forced to shove himself back in again. Confusion marches rampant through his mind and almost succeeds in distracting him from the shuddering release that begins to bear down on him. But then, as if taking mercy on his helpless, foolish host, Hermanubis tips his head down to regard the spot where his body connects with yours. 

He doesn’t quite comprehend what he’s seeing at first and then it clicks. The same semi corporeal energy that created the oversized, monstrous hands to overshadow his own when he was channeling the great sage’s full power had culminated at the base of his shaft and had formed a … a knot. A faintly glowing, impermanent bulge that was effectively working as a plug to keep you tied to him even when he tried to pull out. He couldn’t dislodge it from your stretched open cunt even with his vigorous attempts to complete a fully executed thrust no matter how much effort he put into it. All he could do was slam his hips forward, forward, forward, again and again, bruising your cervix given the dire tinge of your breathless wails, and in the process he only succeeds in bullying that faux knot all the way inside you. 

This is something else that is not a normal part of his physiology and should therefore not mean much of anything to him. Yet somehow, someway, the visual of your raw pussy being forced to take the whole thing, finally stretching wide to accept the fattest part of the rounded girth before weakly trying to close shut around the base, sends him violently careening over the edge with a wounded lurch. 

His movements are even more limited now that he’s got you well and truly plugged but that doesn’t really seem to matter. Narrow hips jumping from the sheer force of his orgasm, Cyno kneels on that dimly lit altar before the ever watchful eyes of Hermanubis’ statue and basks in the mind numbing relief that comes with his cock spraying your insides creamy white. He tries to keep fucking you, driven by the instinctive urge that is not his own to deposit every last drop of his potent seed into your womb, but he only succeeds in working his spend even deeper into your cunt with the tiny little thrusts he can manage. 

Suddenly, and without even a moment's warning, the spirit within him recedes and he’s forced back into his body with a haggard, suffocating gasp. He slams into his own consciousness, his own skin like he’d been shoved off the highest mountain peak in the world and then hit the ground at full speed. 

All at once he’s aware of the thick sheen of sweat coating his entire body, the flushed static coursing through his flesh and bone. His spine dramatically bows towards the ceiling when he sucks in one frantic, heaving breath after another. It’s a violent thing, refitting himself into his own flesh again, filling out all the little nooks and crannies that he’d been forced to vacate. His hands feel weird, his fingers wrong and gangly where they’re splayed out on the surface of the dais. His stomach feels like it’s caving in, turned inside out and then flipped around in some unnatural fashion that seems to him like it hurts. Even his cock felt wrong where it was still wedged deep inside your cunt and weakly pulsing with the last lingering spasms of his release. 

Hair hanging forward, Cyno just stares at you in wide eyed, shell shocked disbelief. Perhaps some naive part of him had hoped it was just a dream, a nightmare, a sickening vision of what might have been if he allowed himself to lose control of the remnants of the great sage. That is not the case though, and the way you vindictively stare up at him through the tears still wetting your lashes thoroughly dispels any doubt about that. He’d not only hurt you, scared you, forced himself on you and taken advantage of you … he’d irreparably shattered any and all of your trust in him. 

There was no coming back from this for either of you. 

Gods, and what about your future! If his seed took and you — 

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he can think to say, croaking out each individual word like he hadn’t used his voice in a few dozen centuries. That didn’t feel too far from the truth, but all you do is turn your head away with a soft sniffle. 

“Save it for someone who cares, Cyno. Get off of me. I want to go home.” 

Home, where you could refuse to ever speak to him again. Where you could seek comfort and peace in your true lover's arms, not his, and figure out what you were going to do moving forward. 

It wasn’t fair to you nor was it something he actually deserved after what he’s put you through, but a tiny, vaguely human voice in the back of his cotton stuffed mind whispers at him that he could always keep you here forever. Make this your new home. Fill you with child after child until his claim on you was so uncontestedly concrete that no one could ever take you away from him, least of all that blasted Al-Haitham. 

This was his temple after all, wasn’t it?

⭐

Crossposted: here

[fantasydreamland]

Reader is Margaery's shy secret admirer, she wouldn't dare bother the king's wife, so R communicates in the language of flowers, sending all kinds of them to express her feelings

Basically Margaery Tyrell x Fem!Reader, please?

Secret Admirer

Margaery Tyrell x fem reader

Summary: You have always admired Margaery. Her grace, her kindness and her overwhelming beauty. You wouldn’t dare make your feelings known as you (and many others) are terrified of her husband King Joffrey. So you find a way to secretly show your admiration. 🌹

Notes: 18+ ONLY!! a little smut, mostly kissing, fluff, wlw, possible spoilers

Thank you so much for this request!!

word count: 1209

masterlist

Ever since Margaery arrived in Kings Landing you have been completely entranced by her. You have never seen a woman so beautiful. Her graciousness and kindness only adding to your admiration.

The day of the royal wedding was a tense one. The festivities were great fun but you could not help but notice King Joffreys cruel antics and Margaerys uncomfortable demeanour in response, no matter how well she tried to smile and hide it.

That very night you decided to send her a large bouquet of flowers to congratulate the couple, but really it was in hopes it may bring her some delight on her awful wedding night. You quietly delivered them to their chambers long before they would enter.

The next day you did the same, quietly delivering beautiful flowers to her chambers. The king and queen now slept in their separate rooms only rarely would they share a bed when Joffrey wanted to try for an heir.

Every few days you would secretly sneak to her chambers to leave her beautiful bouquets to express your love for her. For weeks you sent different flowers, lilies, carnations, tulips, peonies, orchids, sometimes mixtures of different kinds. One day leaving lovely white roses.

The next day you saw her having tea in the gardens as usual, this time with a white rose in the back of her half braided hair. Your heart soared at the imagine of her finding them and enjoying their beauty so much she decided to wear one. Part of you hoped it was a sign to her secret admirer that she has noticed these gestures.

That evening while she was at dinner, you decided to leave red roses. As you were setting them nicely on her bedside table, you heard the door opening. You froze as you stared wide eyed at Margaery entering her chambers. She looked at you for a confused moment until she glanced over to the new bouquet on her table.

“You? You have been the one leaving me flowers?” She asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Uh, y-yes my queen.” You choked out.

“They are quite beautiful.” She said moving closer to them. “If you would be so kind to tell me who has been requesting you send these, I would love to give my gratitude.”

“I- um, I have been sending them at my own request, my queen.” You shyly look down.

“You’re my secret admirer?“ she ask, amusement in her voice. “And why have you wanted to send them?” You did not see the small smirk as she asked.

“Well I- I simply admire you, your grace.” You say still looking at the floor.

She walks closer to you forcing you to look up and meet her gaze. “You have sent me beautiful flowers for weeks, only because you simply admire me?” She says raising her eyebrow again.

Her question makes your stomach knot and palms sweat. You stare at her blankly, not knowing how to respond.

“Please… tell me the truth of it.” She calmly demands.

You swallow hard before speaking. “Well. I do admire you quite a bit, my queen. Quite a lot, in fact. I- um, I think you are the most kind and gracious woman I have ever met, and your beauty-“ you stutter.

She gives you an enticing look to continue your sentence.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.” You blurt out, instantly feeling embarrassed.

She smirks at you, lightly touching the red roses before leaning in to smell them. “So, it would be safe to assume your admiration may actually be deeper feelings for me?” She turns back to you.

Once again you freeze in panic. The strong feelings you have kept hidden for so long being called out by her.

“I cannot say I have not noticed you as well, (y/n).” She says, making your heart race. “I have noticed your gaze on me. We do not know each other well but I have also been one to admire your beauty from afar.”

“R-really?” You say dumbfounded, shocked by her words.

“You are very intriguing.” She smirks, walking closer to you. “So what is it you desire from me, hm?”

“I- nothing, your grace. I simply wanted to quietly bring you some small form of joy and beauty.”

“Yes, that was your intention leaving me flowers… But what do you desire in your heart?” her enchanting blue eyes looking deeply into yours.

You stare blankly at her, too frightened to give a truthful response.

She moves closer, until you are nearly a breath away. “What is it you think about in the night? When you think of me?” She takes your hand, making your heart stop.

“Your queen is demanding a truthful answer, my lady.” She says with a calm but serious expression, continuing to look in your eyes.

“I- I think about a moment like this…” you choke out, looking down at her hand holding yours. “Imagining being this close to you… and-“ you stop.

“Continue…” she urges.

“And… I think about what it would be like to kiss you… m-my queen.” Your voice shakes, terrified at the words you just confessed.

“So that is what you desire, hm?” She smirks, gently lifting your chin to meet her close gaze.

Her touch was making your brain fuzzy, all you could do was give a timid nod.

You hold intense eye contact for a long moment before she leans in and places a delicate kiss on your lips. You look at her with wide eyes, trying to decide if this is truly happening or you are somehow dreaming.

You use all your strength to push away your fears and kiss her back, harder and longer than the kiss she gave to you. She is taken aback, with a smile on her face. She pushes her lips back into yours making you whimper. Letting go of your hand, she moved hers to hold your waist, pulling you closer to her. Your hand moves to cup her cheek as the kiss deepens. Your body feels as if it’s set aflame when she slips in her tongue. You moan into eachothers mouths as your tongues gently dance together. She slowly moves one hand from your waist to your breast, still pulling you close with the hand that remained on your waist. Your hands gently move into her hair, making her sigh. The entire world felt still as you kissed, only resuming when your lips finally parted.

“Well I will be expecting a rather large bouquet of flowers in the morrow.” She jokes, as you both grin widely, still holding eachother.

“Of course, my queen.” you say as your body still vibrates from the excitement of the moment.

You slowly break apart and she places a final kiss on your cheek. “Goodnight, (y/n).”

“Goodnight your grace.” You give a small curtsy, still smiling wide. Your legs feeling like pudding as you make your way out of her chambers and back to your own.

—

There was overwhelming electricity the next time you caught eye of each other in a public setting. Margaery takes a drink as you look down at your feet, both silently smiling to yourselves remembering of your little secret.

[tryingmybestpls]

Let The Light In

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Glimpses into a life alongside Joel Miller.

Rating: R

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Canon violence, mentions of sex, graphic depictions of violence and death, depressing themes, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of loss

She knew they weren't meant to last.

She had told herself this every time she snuck out of his bed in the early morning, gathering her clothes as quietly as she could as the sun slowly starts to rise over the QZ. There wasn't supposed to be any feelings attached to this, to these nights that they have together and she repeats that over and over as he snores softly. It's just an even exchange, that's all. A way to let off some steam, a way to get their needs met.

They weren't supposed to be that close. They weren't friends-there wasn't really friends anymore. Her and Joel-well, they were really more like coworkers.

Coworkers that fucked, but coworkers nonetheless.

I mean, it was normal, wasn't it? Before all of this carnage, before the world fell apart, coworkers fucked each other. It was completely normal.

Again, that's what she also told herself.

She'd slip out of his apartment and would see him later on, when their paths would cross during whatever jobs they'd be doing that day. They would acknowledge each other in the moment, but they'd keep it at that. She had tried her best to just keep it at that-at the nights they shared together.  She wouldn't get hurt if all they had together were those nights. Those few hours in his tiny little bed.

But life couldn't be that simple. She knew better than that.

"What was your favorite TV show?" He asks one night, moonlight steaming in through the dirt and grime on the windows of his apartment. The question is out of character for him and they both know it. They don't talk about before, but either way, she gives in. She can't help it, this small tiny slice of domesticity. She's greedy and she knows it.

"Law and Order: SVU. I liked that the bad guy always got caught." She replies, turning onto her side so she can look at him, "However, my mom made me watch Dateline and 48 Hours with her. She wanted to make sure I was never taken, y'know...normal shit."

He can see a shift in her eyes as she remembers those memories. He gets that glimpse into her family, into how she was raised. All that he knew about her family was that they're were long gone, their bodies scattering the United States from California to Connecticut. Now he knew that her mom was paranoid, terrified that something bad was going to happen to her kids. Just like he had been with Sarah.

They'd both been right.

But he doesn't say this, he keeps this observation to himself. He knows he can't stay silent for long, because the longer the silence the more she's thinking about everything that has happened. So he just nods, his arm tucked behind his head. He looks like he's seriously thinking about his answer, wanting to give her the God's honest truth.

"The Sopranos-Tommy and I used to watch it. I paid a little every month for that damn show." He shakes his head at the thought of it, as if he is still annoyed. She smiles, trying her best to stop the almost girlish giggle that almost escapes her mouth. He catches the sound almost immediately, raising an eyebrow at her as the corners of his mouth turn upwards ever so slightly, "You laughin' at me, girl?"

Oh, she was so fucked.

-

Sometimes she'll dream of him.

She knows it's a bad sign-a dangerous one, even- but she can't control her subconscious. And she surely can't control those dreams she has of him and her, a farm somewhere out west, and two little mini-me's that have his hair and her eyes. And she can't control the ache she gets in her chest when she awakes, grieving something that isn't real, something that she can never have.

On the days that follow those dreams, the world is a little colder and Y/N is a little quieter. Joel isn't much of a talker, but he notices. He doesn't pry, of course-it's not his place and he knows it. They carry on with their day and she think about whether or not they should end things, if it was all going too far. Surely it had to be-he was lodged deep inside of her self conscious, he was something she just couldn't shake.

And then the next day, she'd be face down in his bed, his hands gripping her hips, the cycle only continuing. She's in too deep and she knows it, but she just can't stop. She's addicted to him and she just can't get enough.

-

When Ellie enters the the picture, their situation changes.

Gone are their nights together. Now all they get is glances at each other-knowing looks behind the kid's back-and quiet talks when they know she's asleep. He'll hold her when the nights get too cold and she starts to limit her food intake so there is a little more food for both him and Ellie. If he notices, he doesn't say a word.

Their relationship changes after Bill and Frank's, after that letter Bill had penned to Joel. They try to ignore it, ignore the questions that Ellie fires their way after she reads it. Y/N's cheeks burn as she snatches the letter from Ellie, telling her to run upstairs and shower. The teen rolls her eyes at the two of them, muttering how two of them just want to get rid of her so they can suck each other faces. As soon as she is upstairs, Joel grabs Y/N and slams his lips against hers, kissing her like it's the last thing he might do. Her cheeks are wet, but neither of them acknowledge it.

His hand is on her thigh all the way to Kansas City.

Kansas City is where Y/N's motherly instincts-as Joel outs it- seemingly kick in. She's constantly asking if Ellie is okay, and when Sam and Henry join them, she does the same with them. Joel teases her about it, tells her to stop being such a mother hen. She tells him that she'll only stop when he does. He rolls his eyes in response.

She starts to think how different it could be-the five of them, all together. She hadn't thought about life turning into something like...this. To a sort of family. She wonders if it's possible for them to take care of the three of them

When things go belly-up in the motel room, she immediately wraps her arms around Ellie, tears springing in both of their of eyes. She tells the kid over and over to not look, even though they both are. Joel is frozen in place, his eyes going from the two bodies on the ground and to the two women holding each other.

-

The snow is starting to stick to the ground when they reach Wyoming.

A part of her longs for a life in Jackson. Everything seems so...normal. Kids runnin' around in the street without a care in the world, there's even a Christmas tree in the town center.  Joel sees the way she looks away, looking down at the ground and he wonders when the last time she celebrated anything was.

She watches him embrace his brother and she's happy for him, she truly is-but she can't ignore the way her throat starts to tighten. She looks away, finding something to focus on in the distance, her nails digging into her palm. If Ellie notices, she keeps it to herself.

She's surrounded by families, with big happy smiles stretched across their faces. Maria and Tommy are talking, explaining everything about their safe haven, but Y/N doesn't hear a word of it. She just follows them, her hands shoved into the pockets of her coat. She doesn't even realize Maria is taking to her until Ellie nudges her.

"Sorry-What was that?" She asks, looking up at her. Maria offers her a smile, clasping her hands together.

"I was saying that I'm going to show you guys where you're going to be staying while Tommy and Joel go catch up. Is that okay?" Maria tells her and Y/N smiles back, nodding. She stays quiet as Maria gives them a tour of the house. She doesn't know how to quite respond to this whole situation, how to think about it all, how to react. Y/N manages to sneak away from the conversation, hiding in the bathroom under the guise of showering. She turns on the knob and sits on the edge of the tub. Y/N buries her face into a towel and starts sobbing. She doesn't even know what she's crying about, all she knows is that she doesn't stop until Joel comes in and wraps her in his arms.

Her and Joel get into a fight when he tells her that he isn't going to take Ellie to the Fireflies, that he just couldn't do it. It's a true, honest to God fight. She calls him an asshole, he calls her a dumb kid who doesn't know what she's talking about. He tells her that he's scared of how close he's getting with Ellie, of how close he's getting with her. Y/N tells him that just 'cause he's abandoning Ellie that doesn't mean she will. Y/N says that she'll go with Tommy, that she'll make sure she's safe. She tells him not to bother with waiting for her to come back-especially since he's so worried about how close they're getting.

The next day when her, Tommy, and Ellie arrive at the stables, Joel is there waiting for them and the three of them leave on two horses.

That night when they stop, Joel waits for Ellie to fall asleep before he apologizes to Y/N for what he said, for how he acted. She accepts it and when Ellie wakes up in the morning, she finds them fast asleep, curled up next to each other.

On their way to the college, Joel teaches Ellie how to shoot with the rifle. Y/N tells her about how it was before-at least as much of it as she remembers. Joel teaches her about sports, Y/N talks about how different Boston is from where she lived in California with her family. Joel tries to convince Ellie that Texas was far better than California, but the teen isn't convinced. Ellie reads them jokes from her book, making the two adults laugh and groan. Her and Ellie tease Joel the whole time about his dreams of sheep ranches and singing. It's sweet and it gets Y/N's mind off of all the things she was thinking about back in Jackson.

When Joel falls off the horse, Y/N jumps off of hers. His shirt is drenched in crimson and her hands immediately fly to the wound, putting pressure on it. She had known as soon as he had yanked that wood out of him that he was going to bleed out but she-she had just thought that it wasn't going to happen somehow. That somehow, God-willing, this was just going to all workout.

"Joel? Shit..." Ellie is suddenly right behind her, her eyes on the where Y/N's bloodstained hands are putting pressure. The older woman quickly takes her knit cap, pressing it on the wound.

"Don't do this to me, Joel-You can't do this to me." She tells him over and over, tears rolling down her cheeks. Ellie is still calling his name, begging him to get up as Y/N keeps murmuring, "God damn it, don't do this to me, baby."

-

"You need to sleep."

She lays in between Ellie and Joel in that cold little basement. Her eyes watching the fall rise of his chest, making sure he's still there.

"I'm alright, Ellie-Just get some rest." She replies, turning her head for a moment, looking at the kid. She can barely make out her face in the darkness, but Y/N can feel her eyes on her. There's silence for a moment and Y/N hopes that Ellie had finally fallen asleep-

"Did-Did you have kids too?" Ellie questions, her voice quiet as if she doesn't want to wake Joel. Y/N turns her head to look at the ceiling, her hands resting on the blanket covered ground. Her index finger taps against the cold concrete.

"Not when it first happened-I was around your age when it all went to shit." Y/N replies, just as quietly, "There was-I was...once."

"Was it-Was it-?" Ellie doesn't know how to quite say the words as Y/N blinks away any tears that threaten to fall. She doesn't know why she's saying any of this-doesn't know why she doesn't tell Ellie to drop it and go to bed. Joel is so much better at not talking about things, about keeping secrets.

"Yeah. He-I never told him." Y/N voice is just as soft, barely loud enough for Ellie to hear. The words hang heavy in between them and she knows they Ellie is still processing the news when she adds, "Please-Please don't tell him. It'd break his heart."

That night she dreams about what never was-she dreams of Ellie chasing after a little boy that looks just like his father.

-

Her mind is racing when they get captured by David and his people.

Before all this, before Ellie entered her life, she would've done anything to escape-would've fought tooth and nail just to get scot-free, but things have changed. Now she can't do just anything- no, now she has to have a plan, one in which all three of them are okay. So she starts planning-trying to think of what she could possibly do so that Ellie can be safe, so that Joel will safe.

They try to pick the locks, try to unscrew any bolts that might be loose. The window is jammed. Their weapons are gone.

When David starts saying shit with disgusting undertones, Y/N lashes out. She spits and yells at him, calling him every name in the book. She gets beat-her blood splattering on the floor and walls. One of her eyes swells shit after the beating, her lip split. Her chest aches-it hurts when she breathes, making her think that they must've cracked a rib or three. Even then, she makes sure she's in front of Ellie.

And then they see the human ear laying on the floor.

David brings them stew and they both refuse to eat it. Ellie kicks the bowls away and

Y/N tries to rise to her feet, wanting to-needing to protect Ellie, but she can't. The conversation once again takes a turn for the worse, which makes Y/N stomach twist, even more than the cannibalism had.

When Ellie breaks David's finger after his suggestion, Y/N smiles and says quietly, just loud enough for Ellie to hear, "That's my girl."

Yet the pride soon disappears when David and three of his men reappear and once again, Y/N moves to guard Ellie. David opens the cage, shoving the older woman aside in order to pull Ellie away. Y/N quickly gets up, pushing through the pain, yelling at the men to stop, to leave the kid alone, to take her instead. The two slam Y/N into the chain link fence, forcing her to watch as David and the other man force Ellie down onto the butcher's block. The older woman tries to fight back, yelling and screaming, the chain link tearing into her skin.

When Ellie swings the cleaver the man with the beard's neck, Y/N swings her head back, connecting the back of her skull with a man's nose. He cries out in pain as David shoots at Ellie as she escapes. Y/N manages to grab a knife from the injured man, quickly bring it up into his chest before the other man can stop her. One man falls while the other charges at her, slamming her into the wall, making the knife fall from her hands.

But she fights like she's never fought before because she knows that Ellie needs her. She claws at her captors eyes, making him scream out in pain. Then his arm is against her windpipe, cutting off her breathing. She reaches blindly, trying to grab something, anything.

She can smell smoke just as her hand wraps around the blade of the knife. The man puts more of his weight on her neck, spots starting to dot her vision. She grips the knife, the blade digging into her palm as she brings it up and forcing it into the man's head. It makes a sickening sound, an unnerving crunch.

She shoves the body off of her as she gasps for air. She uses the chain link to pull herself up before she limps out of the room.

By the time she leaves the area they were being held in, David is dead and the place is up in flames. Y/N pulls Ellie up and into her arms, hugging her for a second, before telling her they have to go. Their arms are wrapped around each other as they make their way out of the back of the restaurant. The only noise being the sound of their harsh breathing and the fire crackling behind them as it devours the building.

And then suddenly, Joel's there, holding both of them. He presses his lips against Y/N's temple, telling them over and over that he's got them, that they're safe. He calls Ellie babygirl and he calls Y/N sweetheart. Y/N holds onto him and Ellie tightly, never wanting to let go, tears streaming down her cheeks.

-

She's killed for him before, and he's killed for her. It was just apart of their lives, it just happens. If you want to survive, you have to get dirty. But now? Now, there's something behind each kill.

It's so much more feral.

She wears the blood with honor, with a sense of pride. I protected you both, I'm protecting my own. It's the same for him. He mows through people for her, for Ellie, for whatever this little group is. They both do it without a second thought, without any hesitation.

And they destroy that hospital in Salt Lake City together, hunting down every son of a bitch that wanted to hurt their girl. Joel carries Ellie out in his arms, Y/N follows right beside him, her finger not leaving the trigger of her gun until Marlene is dead and both of them get in the car with their girl.

Once again, his hand is on her thigh the whole time.

They lie through the teeth to Ellie. They agree that what she doesn't know, won't hurt her. She's alive, she's with them-that's all that matters. The three of them are still together and that's all that matters.

"You don't have to stay with me, y'know that right?" Joel murmurs to her as they stand next to each other, their eyes on Jackson in the distance. She turns her head to look at him and he meets her gaze.

"What, you tryin' to get rid of me, Joel?" She asks, a small smile appearing on her face. He can't stop the way the corners of his mouth turn upward.

"I would never, darlin'." He replies, smiling back at her. Y/N grins, just as Ellie starts yelling at them to get a room.

In the back of her mind, a little voice tells her that this-their little family, their little life together-that it won't last. She ignores it, shoving it aside as her hand wraps around his, her lips pressing against his scruffy cheek as Ellie makes gagging noises.

[sky-kiss]

Raphael/Haarlep: Gift

A/N: Yeah, there's no real ending to this. I just wanted to write early days Raph/Haarlep trying to figure each other out a little. Also. The image is a lie, lol, cause this is a pre-glam Haarlep.

R/H: GIFT

He still recalls his sire’s words of introduction: 

Don’t you like your gift, boy?

Gift, said with a smile, hiding the underlying disdain and the most truthful sneer. Mephistopheles watches him closely, chin resting in his right palm, looking the very picture of benevolence to any onlooker. 

Gift, but it’s not a pet, tool, or toy standing across from him—no, his sire was never one for such half-measures. Raphael stares the incubus down, face impassive. They are beautiful, truth be told. Hair the color of burnished copper hangs nearly to the small of their back, skin sun-kissed, features lovely beyond the telling—they are every pleasant summer evening, every whispered dream by the seaside. The incubus is warmth and longing, humid hunger, made flesh. 

Raphael notices none of this—it’s only their eyes he cares about. They are the same hellfire gold as his own, lit with the same fury. For a moment, just the one, he thinks they might understand one another. 

The feeling passes. 

Mephistopheles speaks in a cold tone just above a whisper, only a few degrees above frostbite: “Will you not thank me, son of Hellfire?” 

“My thanks,” he says, and he hates that the response is immediate, that he is still too powerless to risk slighting the Archduke. Raphael flicks his attention to the viper he’s been gifted, “Does my prize have a name, Father?” 

The devil laughs. “Ah, but I hope you of all people shall appreciate this…I took the liberty of renaming it something more to your tastes: Haarlep.” 

Raphael’s head snaps up, lips curling back in a sneer. He opens his mouth to protest…

…and the incubus steps forward, winding their arms around his neck. The unnatural heat of their skin is a welcome balm compared to Mephistar’s unnatural chill. They lean close, near enough for their breath to gust across his lips. “You are a pretty thing, aren’t you? Yes. Oh, and you pout so sweetly.” They shut his mouth with a kiss. 

Raphael hears their voice in his head, a far cry from the empty-headed lilt they’ve spoken with: Don’t give him the satisfaction, little brat—be silent.

~~~~~~

“Is there where you’ve fled?”

“Reside,” Raphael corrects. “The House of Hope,” the cambion holds his arms out wide, gesturing to the banquet hall. It is not half as grand as his Father’s citadel on Mephistar but…suitable. He has carved out a place for himself—it will not sate his ambition for long, but for now, he allows himself to feel satiated. 

The incubus hums, dragging their fingers across the table. 

“You are not impressed?” 

Haarlep laughs, and there is a high and reedy quality to it that he does not like. “Asking me to lie to you already. And not even to the bedroom yet. Tsk, tsk, princeling—we are careening towards disappointment.” 

“You will address me with respect, slave.” 

“But of course, Master.” They croon, eyes blazing with naked defiance. Their wings flick, pinning behind them as the temperature in the banquet halls rises in response to Raphael’s temper. Haarlep bows their head in concession. By way of thanks, they say, “It is warmer than Mephistar.” 

“Too delicate for the cold?” 

They offer an olive branch. “This Home is…comfortable, princeling.”

~~~~~~

Raphael does not let the wretch share his bed. 

If it concerns them, they do not say. Haarlep roams the House, antagonizing the staff. They are never out of sight and just outside of arm's reach. Some evenings, he'll feel their fingers brush across his mind, testing the surface of his thoughts but never pushing. Whatever else the creature is, they are not stupid. 

They want his attention. 

Raphael sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and setting the contract aside. "Ask." 

He feels Haarlep's grin, even if he doesn't see it. The wretch lingers near the corner of his vision, rolling a coin across their knuckles, weaving it through their fingers. "Isn't it more fun like this?" 

"No. If you have a question, ask. Be direct." 

"Oh, but it's tedious. No play, no games…" 

"...no whimsy," Raphael finishes, leaning back in his seat. He knows the creature well enough to anticipate their next movement—they're up from their perch in one liquid movement, sliding into his lap the next. He catches their wrist before they can undo the top fastenings on his doublet. "Ah, ah, wandering hands to yourself, pet." 

Haarlep's lips curl up in a smirk, a note of respect creeping across their features. "You haven't asked why I'm here." 

"Why waste the breath? You are my Sire's spy." 

"Such accusations." 

"Do you deny it?" 

They scoff. "Of course not! No, no, I lie only when it suits me, dear. And I much prefer you know this truth." 

Raphael winds an arm around them, nails digging into their hip hard enough to draw blood. Haarlep doesn't wince. "You're here because he fears me." 

And Haarlep laughs, high and bright, and doesn't stop laughing when Raphael dumps them out of his lap. "Naughty and delusional, are we? No, half-blood, nothing so grand as that—the Cold Lord would distract you. And," they grin at him, cold, wicked, "Forget you." 

"I will not allow that."

Haarlep's eyes light with something like respect, "Good boy. Hold onto that drive. Perhaps one day you'll make something of yourself."

Raphael offers an olive branch—he extends a hand to the incubus. 

Haarlep takes it. 

[queen-haq]

Fic: Never You (Penelope x Colin) - Part 2

Rating: R

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 scene released yesterday.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Masterlist (contains links to Part 1 and my other stories)

Chapter 2

Penelope sipped her cup of lemonade, scanning the crowd in front of her. They were at Lady Hathaway’s ball, another social engagement in a series of endless ones, and she was bored. Whereas these events served a purpose in the past, now she was no longer in search of a husband or gossip. The gatherings weren’t all work however, there were many an evening when Eloise and she would die from laughter at others frivolity. And then there were the dances. Penelope loved to dance but she wasn’t very popular and not many gentlemen asked her to partner. Often Colin would be the only one. A part of her knew his invites were more for her benefit than his but she always assumed he enjoyed their moments together as well - but now that she knew how embarrassed he was to be seen with her, she cringed at those memories.

“Good evening, Pen. Enjoying yourself?”

She almost choked on the liquid at Colin’s unexpected appearance beside her. She thought he would avoid her company, hoped for it actually after their last conversation at the park, but there he was. Stubbornly she took another sip, refusing to speak to him.

“You look lovely tonight.”

She rolled her eyes.

“As pleasing as the new wardrobe is, I must admit it’s your hair that is most… intriguing.”

In her peripheral vision she saw his eyes roaming over her, and every nerve in her body tensed. It was difficult to breathe. For as long as she’d known him, she loved him. Being flushed and breathless around Colin was nothing new, but there was something different about the reaction he evoked in her now. There was no longer a soft, sweet warmth that enveloped her. Instead something dark and caustic surged through her, a swirl of tumultuous emotions that left her reeling with confusion when he watched her in the strange, new fashion that he had at the park and now. It probably had something to do with the anger she felt towards him but it wasn’t just that. She didn’t understand it, she didn’t like it, and she needed it to stop. 

“Oh, you’d like to know how I am?” Colin continued, unfazed by her silence. “Quite well, actually. London air has been surprisingly refreshing, although I’m still not fond of the rain.”

“I do not wish to discuss the weather with you, Mr. Bridgerton,” she replied stiffly, straightening her back while her eyes remained fixated on the flood of people circling the dance floor.

“Then what shall we discuss?” he mused. “Would you like to hear about the gifts I brought back for everyone? Or would you rather share more about your time in the country?”

“I would not.”

“Alright, let’s discuss your falling out with Eloise. My sister refuses to speak on it but maybe I can pry the truth from your lips.”

“You’d be foolish to try.”

“How about a dance then? Would you join me for a waltz?”

“No.”

“Fine. Quadrille it is.”

Irritated, she turned to find him smirking at her. Her heart pounded in her chest seeing the wicked glint in his eyes, the mischievous tilt of his lips as he deliberately goaded her. “You’re trying to provoke me.”

“Is it working?” he asked with a cheeky smile.

“I won’t be indulging your whims, Colin.”

He pouted at her. “How unfortunate.” Eyes glued to her face, he drank from his cup. “Shall I take a turn about the room, Pen? Perhaps I’ll run into Lady Portia and ask her if she’ll arrange a dance for the two of us.”

Pen quirked her eyebrow. “I certainly won’t stop you from dancing with Mama if that’s what your heart desires.”

Colin laughed heartily, and instantly Penelope noticed Lord Fife and some of the other gentlemen glancing at them. And they weren’t the only ones. Nearby were Eloise and Cressida Cowper, watching her with disdain. Feeling self-conscious at all the attention they were drawing, Penelope stilled. “I’ve asked you to leave me alone, Mr. Bridgerton.”

His sigh was heavy with resignation. “I see we’re back to unpleasantries.”

“I don’t understand why you’re here. Aren’t you worried about Lord Fife and his gaggle laughing at you?”

“I don’t give a damn about what he says.”

“That’s certainly not true.”

The easy smile on his face dissolved, replaced with an intensity that held her transfixed. Regret loomed over his features. “I am truly sorry, Pen. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I wish I could tell you there was a reason why I behaved so foolishly but I can’t. I was intoxicated, yes, but that doesn’t excuse my behavior.” He took a step closer, his hands tantalizingly close to her own gloved ones. “I will do anything to earn your forgiveness. Please. Just tell me what you need.”

They were in a ballroom crowded with people but all she saw was Colin standing in front of her, his eyes soft and pleading, voice trembling with emotion. Yes he hurt her, wounded her so deeply that she spent weeks in despair trying to understand how he could be so cruel, but seeing him so torn up made her recognize he was sincerely apologetic. If she was honest with herself about that fateful encounter, what devastated her the most wasn’t him putting her down in front of others, but the sinking realization that he never really could love her. And that wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t fair to be angry at him for not reciprocating her feelings because love was not something that could be forced or demanded. And despite their newly fractured relationship, they were close friends once and she didn’t want him to continue suffering because of her. “I forgive you.”

Stunned, he stared at her. “You do?”

“Yes. We’ve both been unkind but it doesn’t serve any purpose to hold on to that pain.” She offered him a smile. “So you needn’t worry, Colin. Everything’s resolved between us.”

The cloud of worry departed from his face, his lips broke into a mischievous smile. “Does this mean I can have the next dance?”

She paused, her stomach twisting into coils. “Our friendship, Colin, it complicates things. It makes everything more difficult and…” Wringing her fingers together, she glanced down at her hands. “You’ll be traveling soon and I’ll be moving away from London once I’m married. We won’t see each other often and it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to exchange letters then. I wouldn’t want my husband or others to misconstrue things.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “It’s best if we end our friendship now.”

Before he could respond, they were interrupted by Eloise and Cressida.

“Colin, Penelope,” Eloise greeted them, her demeanor markedly cold as she turned to Pen. “Brother, I’m quite parched. Would you bring me some lemonade? Cressida will accompany you.”

“I would love to hear more about your travels,” Cressida cooed.

Jaw clenched, Colin kept his eyes centered on Penelope. “Pen and I are in the middle of a conversation.”

“Colin, be a gentleman!” Eloise chastised.

“It’s alright. We’re done speaking.” Penelope felt his keen stare upon her, he refused to budge, but it seemed to finally dawn on him that Eloise was not going anywhere. Reluctantly he walked away, with Cressida alongside him.

“Leave my brother alone.” Eloise’s words were saturated with heated rage. “Colin doesn’t know what you’re capable of, the damage you’ve caused to him and the rest of our family. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt by you.”

“Then you should tell him to keep his distance,” Penelope snapped back, and then regretted her tone instantly. “Eloise, I know you’re angry at me but you must know I would never deliberately cause Colin any harm.”

“You already have.” The pain in Eloise’s eyes was evident, causing a tidal wave of shame and guilt within Penelope. “Do you think he could ever forgive you if he knew the truth about who you are? He would hate you. We both know that.”

“Then maybe you should tell him.”

Eloise shook her head ‘no’. “I would never do that to my brother. He holds you in high esteem, the truth would break his heart. Like you broke mine.”

She stormed away, leaving Penelope staring after.

Her words weighed heavily on Pen’s mind, and she desperately needed air to compose herself. Her stride was quick as she made her way out of the ballroom, walking towards the large garden. There were some guests scattered around the grounds but as she went deep into the maze on the property, she found herself alone in a private corner behind the hedges.

For a long time she pondered Eloise’s words, the accusations echoing in her mind. As much as she’d tried to defend herself, Eloise was not interested in forgiving her. And deep down Penelope knew she didn’t deserve it. Her actions had hurt others, especially the Bridgertons, and even though she had only written about them to protect them, the end result was still the same.

Yet there was a part of her that didn’t regret her actions, because Colin was living the life he wanted and Eloise was no longer under suspicion.

Most of all, Lady Whistledown had given Penelope the kind of freedom she had never imagined. A voice to speak her mind and leave a mark in the small word she inhabited, and enough money to secure a healthy future. It was selfish of her but she didn’t care. She was Lady Whistledown and she was proud of it.

“You’ve been lying to me, Pen.”

She turned around immediately. Colin was only a few feet away, moonlight shining brightly upon him. He’d always towered over her, but standing there to his full height he looked regal and statuesque. While he’d never been a wallflower, there was something intrinsically shy about him from living in the shadows of his formidable father and brothers. He had indicated as much in his letters and in some of their private conversations. But the Colin from their recent encounters, the one staring at her now, appeared to be a different person. More confident, sure of himself. And it was reflected in his poise and gait as he sauntered closer. His thumb was pressed against the palm of his other hand, idly stroking his skin, as if in deep thought.

“You should not be here,” she replied. “If someone were to come upon us-”

“Your betrothed would not approve?”

“There would be a scandal!”

“Yes, of course.” There was wry amusement in his voice, his blue eyes twinkling. “I’ve been making discreet inquiries about your activities, amongst friends and others. I even approached Mrs. Varley and your mama earlier, and they both confirmed my suspicions.” He dipped his head to the side. “Albeit inadvertently.” Eyebrow quirked up, he sent her a teasing smile. “There’s not been any hint of a suitor, Pen. None at all.”

She peered at him, horrified.

“There is no engagement is there, Pen?” He came to a stop in front of her. “You lied to me. And I need to know why.”

Red hot anger coursed through her veins, she was so enraged that every sense of propriety and decorum left her brain. “You arrogant prick!” She charged at him. “How dare you?”

Before she could shove him away he gripped her hands, forcibly holding her tightly in his arms.

“Is it that difficult for you to imagine someone would want me? That there is a man out there who could love me and want to marry me? You find that so inconceivable, Colin?” Her breath grew ragged as she tried to break free from his grip. “Did it never occur to you-”

“You don’t get to end our friendship, Pen.” His eyes were dark and volatile, so deep that every moment she held his stare felt like sinking into the abyss. It was she who had lost her temper but now it was Colin who looked untethered, clinging to her. “You don’t get to walk away from us.”

Her heart beat thunderously in her chest, her stomach in knots as she realized she was trapped against him. There was no escape. He was occupying every inch of space, filling her senses with his scent, overwhelming her with his presence as his close proximity wreaked havoc with her insides.

“You are my friend.” Colin’s voice vibrated with raw, desperate urgency that shook her to the core. “My confidante.” Lips parted, his gaze trailed down to her mouth, down the length of her neck, settling on the highs of her breasts. No one had ever looked at her with such ferocity before, making her feel utterly exposed. “You’re…” His voice trailed off, like he couldn’t finish his thoughts; he was distracted, caught up in his world. Suddenly his hand was on her neck, the other wrapping around the back of her head. Frozen in his arms, she was simply too enthralled to move. His long lean fingers traced along her skin, searing through her heaving breasts, until his index finger hooked along the neckline of her dress.

It was such a simple thing, his finger tucked into the cleavage of her dress, but her body burned at his touch. She couldn’t take it any longer, unravelling in front of him as wetness gushed between her legs.

“Have you always been like this, Pen?”

She swallowed audibly. “Like what?”

His left hand loosened its hold on the back of her head, shifting so that his thumb now traced the contours of her lip. His gaze met hers, her body trembled. The complexity of emotions in his eyes was unsettling, she didn’t understand it at all. Why was he doing this to her? Why was he making her feel so completely vulnerable?

“So disagreeable,” he murmured, his soft breath humming against her skin.

And then just as she decided enough was enough and she needed to make her escape, his mouth closed over hers.

To be continued...

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