#she is being asking for it since positions

[cameronsprincess]

omg pls write about frat!rafe and reader and she wants to make a sex tape with rafe as revenge porn for her ex

PLEASE!!!!! i love this so much omfg!!!! i hope you love it baby!

CW: smut! 18+ only! frat!rafe, slight violence, drinking, multiple positions, fingering, male receiving oral, rafe ‘n reader make a sex tape and send it to her shit ass ex bf!

a/n: i’ve never been in college so bare with me, bc idk if i’m getting some terms or things correct, but i did some googling for this😂 also.. i lowkey gave this a lil more storyline.. oops.

masterlists.

you had your sights set on the frat president for a couple of weeks now. ever since you and spencer broke up, you had wanted to figure out a way to get back at him for cheating on you… and what better way to do that than to hook up with his frat brother, the most sought after man on campus, rafe cameron.

it’d been two weeks of you subtly flirting with rafe, giving him fuck me eyes any time you saw him, running into him in the courtyard or dining hall, finding an excuse to talk with him after the fact. it didn’t take much, honestly, after day one rafe was already reeled in.

you’re currently sitting in the library, books open and scattered around the table, studying for a final exam when you hear a voice you’ve grown accustomed to hearing as of late.

“hey, pretty girl. whatcha studying for?”

you glance up from your textbook, setting your pen down on the tabletop and crossing one leg over the other before smiling brightly at rafe. “my final for forensic psychology. worth twenty percent of my grade,” you pause, biting at your bottom lip and batting your lashes at him. “what’re you doing in here?” you ask, a slight tease in your tone.

rafe chuckles, the sound deep and smooth. it sends a jolt of arousal straight between your legs.

“just came for some quiet between classes, didn’t expect to find you here though,” he shifts closer to you, his large, ringed hand falling on your thigh. “i’d be lying if i said i wasn’t happy i ran into you though.”

your eyes flit down to where his hand is resting on your bare thigh, the tension in the air thickening with each passing second. you give him a small smile, “well i’m glad you ran into me too, it’s always nice being around you.”

rafe grins, his hand tightening on your thigh before he pulls back. you frown at the loss of his touch, but you quickly mask it, not wanting to seem desperate for his attention. this is all a plan, you and rafe will never be anything more than a one night stand.

rafe clears his throat after a beat of awkward silence, “so i’ve been meaning to text you, but i’ve just been busy… this is better though, asking you in person i mean.”

your brow furrows, tilting your head to the side. ask you what?

“okay..” you say hesitantly. “what’d you wanna ask me?”

rafe pulls his backpack off his shoulder, setting it on the floor in front of him before unzipping it and pulling out a wrinkled flyer, passing it to you. “we’re having an end-of-the semester party is this weekend, i was wondering if you’d come?”

you study the paper in your hand, trying your best to stifle the smile wanting to break free. this is perfect. you can attach yourself to rafe’s side all night long, spencer would definitely see the two of you together, and then you can make sure he sees when you disappear upstairs together, because let’s be real… you weren’t planning on ending the night not sleeping with rafe.

your eyes finally lift, finding rafe’s sparkling blue ones. you nod your head slowly, “yeah, absolutely i’ll be there. can i bring a friend?”

a big smile takes over rafe’s face. “yeah, ‘course. bring whoever,” he zips his bag back up, standing from the chair he’s in and slinging one of the straps back over his shoulder, gripping it with his right hand. “see you saturday night, pretty girl.”

he winks at you before turning and disappearing out the library doors. you wait until you’re sure he’s gone before letting out a quiet squeal, grabbing your phone and snapping a picture of the flyer, opening your messages with your best friend before sending her a text.

you: *attachment: 1 image* oh my god, lex! rafe fucking cameron just invited me to the end-of-the semester party at his frat this weekend.. he said i could bring whoever, you in?

her reply comes in almost instantly.

lex: *lex hearted an image* ummmm. of course i’m fucking in, holy shit, babe! see i told you that you could pull this off. hurry back home, we need to start planning what to wear now!

—

three days later, saturday night.

“y/n, c’mon babe, we’re gonna be late.” lex groans, her knuckles tapping against your bathroom door again.

you laugh silently, checking your hair and makeup one final time before opening the door. lex’s hand hangs mid-air, her probably ready to knock again. you roll your eyes at her, “i’m coming i’m coming. isn’t that the point of these parties though? no one’s ever early or on time..”

lexi laughs, letting out a slow whistle after. “you’re right, but damn girl. rafe is not going to be able to keep his hands off you, you look sexy!”

you give her a small twirl, running your hands down the front of your tight black dress. you make your way past her, grabbing your heels before plopping onto your mattress and slipping them on your feet. you stand, grabbing your purse before slipping your phone and wallet inside.

turning to face lexi, you smile. “ready?”

“ready.” she repeats with a smile.

the two of you make your way down the stairs of your two-bedroom townhome, walking out the front door and to the sidewalk, waiting on the uber lexi ordered to arrive.

“so what’s the plan, ma? just gonna show up and attach yourself to rafe?”

you shake away the nerves you’re suddenly feeling, trying to clear your mind. this was going to be fine. a little alcohol, some flirting and touching, rafe would be putty in your hands.

“yeah.. i guess? i mean, what else can i do? if i’m just upfront about what i want he’d respect it more, right?”

lexi smiles. “right,” she pauses, looking down at her phone to check where the uber is. “almost here. but, back on the rafe subject, you’re hot, and you’re single, and from word around campus, rafe isn’t one to deny a pretty girl on his arm for the night. it’ll be fine! and bonus points, that jackass spencer will be there and he’ll be furious seeing you two together. plan ‘get back at spencer for being a cheating prick’ is going to be a success!”

you smile, opening your mouth to respond when a black nissan altima pulls up to the curb. the window rolls down. “for lexi adams?”

lexi smiles, grabbing your hand and opening the back door, pulling you inside the car. the driver pulls away from the curb, asking for the address.

—

the drive is only about fifteen minutes, the uber pulling up to the front of the frat house and letting the two of you out. you grip lexi’s hand in yours, sucking in a deep breath and exhaling it slowly before the two of you begin walking toward the front door.

two brothers stand outside the door, “names?” one of them asks.

you look over at lexi, your eyes slightly narrowed in a ‘is he serious’ type of way. you shake your head, looking back at the man who’d asked your names before responding, “y/n y/l/n… and this is my best friend, lexi adams…”

the two look at each other, almost like they’re contemplating letting you in. this is fucking ridiculous, it’s a frat party for christs sake, not a fucking vip section at a high dollar club.

you open your mouth to say that rafe cameron had invited you, but before you can even speak, rafe’s voice fills yours ears.

“you made it!” he says excitedly, squeezing between the two men outside the door, his hand gripping your free one. he turns to walk through the doors, but before he does he stops and whispers something to both of the men standing there. they both look up at you and lexi before putting their focus back on rafe, nodding their heads at whatever he said.

rafe drags you inside, lexi following closely behind as her hand is still holding one of yours. the music inside beats loudly throughout the house, vibrating off the walls and floors and rafe pulls you into the open living space.

he pulls you toward a table lined with various liquor bottles and beer, stopping and releasing your hand. you and lexi stand side by side, staring at rafe as he smiles. “whatcha drinkin’ tonight?” he shouts over the music.

you eye the various bottles of liquor, mixers and beers. you finally settle on a malibu and coke, lexi settling for a vodka cran. rafe quickly makes both drinks, passing them to you and lexi before slinging an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side with a smile.

the three of you walk around the house, squeezing through crowds of people and watching as partygoers dance or partake in intense games of beer pong and flip cup at the various tables spread throughout the house. rafe finally reaches a small group sitting on a few couches, his hand gripping yours as he plops onto the couch, pulling you with him and into his lap. butterflies erupt in your stomach when his free hand snakes its way around your waist, resting flat on your lower stomach.

you rest your back against his chest, leisurely sipping on your mixed drink. rafe leans in close, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers, “you look fucking sexy tonight.”

your cheeks heat up, biting softly at the rim of your cup before bringing it down. you lean forward to set it on the table in front of you, leaning back and turning your neck toward him to thank him. you barely finish your sentence before a familiar and unwelcome voice fills your ears.

“well isn’t this fucking cozy,” spencer says, anger and jealousy lacing his tone. “y/n… what the fuck are you doing?” he scoffs, letting out a dark laugh before he speaks again. “better yet, what the fuck are you doing, cameron? that’s my ex girlfriend. why the fuck is she here and in your lap no less?”

rafe breathes out an annoyed sigh. his thumb rubs gently at your stomach through your dress, his large hands gripping your hips and lifting you off his lap, setting you on the couch and standing. he steps into spencer’s chest, his voice low and demanding as he speaks. “last i checked, i’m the fucking president of this frat house, and i can have whoever the fuck i want here…” he gives spencer a one up, laughing before tapping his cheek and stepping back. “also… didn’t you cheat on her? with vanessa walsh? a shame, really, spence. vanessa is a major downgrade compared to y/n here.” he says, his right hand gesturing back at you.

spencer’s lips part, an annoyed and irritated expression on his face. he rolls his eyes, letting a slow smile take over his lips. “okay. have fun, she’s a fucking prude bitch anyways.”

you gasp and lexi moves to stand but you grip her wrist, pulling her back down. your eyes flit around, taking in the expressions of everyone sitting around you. there’s a lot of shock, a lot of excitement, and some people just blankly watch the interaction. lexi scoots closer to you, gluing herself to your side, resting her head on your shoulder. “fuck him, babe. you’re not a prude, he’s just a prick.”

rafe presses his tongue into his cheek, nodding his head slowly. he turns to face you, his eyes softening when they meet yours. “i’m sorry.” he says softly.

but before you can even respond, he’s turning back to face spencer, his hand clenched in a fist by his side rising and connecting with spencer’s jaw. the party grows silent, people gasping, some shouting praises at rafe, and others concerned for spencer.

“what the fuck, man?” spencer shouts, his jaw moving side to side as he moves to cup it in his hand.

rafe steps into him again, gripping him by the front of his shirt and pulling him into him, “don’t you ever. fucking talk about her that way again. understand?”

spencer tries to speak but rafe shoves him back, the force knocking spencer onto his ass. rafe turns to face you, holding his hand out for you to take. you do, placing your hand in his and letting him lift you up from the couch. his eyes go to lexi, “i’m gonna just borrow her for a moment, yeah? i’ll have my best friend topper come sit with you, keep you company. i promise he’s a good guy.”

lexi smiles, waving her hand through the air. “don’t worry about me, cameron. you take all the time you need with my girl,” she pauses, her smile dropping off her face. “but if you hurt her, i’ll be forced to hunt you down…”

rafe smiles, letting his head fall as he laughs. “got it, boss. she’ll be taken care of.”

lexi gives him a nod, and rafe drags you away. spencer’s eyes are burning into the two of you, but you couldn’t care less. you know what your next move is now, that is, if rafe’s okay with it. rafe stops near a staircase, talking to a blonde boy who you’re assuming is topper. topper glances at you, then over to the area you just were before nodding and pushing his body off the stairs, he stops to give you a gentle smile, “don’t worry, i’ll make sure your friend is good.” you thank him, and then rafe continues to pull you up the stairs once topper disappears into the crowd of bodies.

he pulls you down a long hallway, making it to a door at the very end of the hall. he digs into his back pocket, pulling out a set of keys and sifting through them before landing on the one he needs. he quickly unlocks the door, pushing it open and pulling you inside before he’s shutting it and locking it back. you take in the room you’re in, a queen sized mattress on a metal frame sits against one wall, a long dresser against the other. he has a desk pushed against one wall, his laptop, business textbooks, and a small lamp sat on top of it. he has a small closet in the room, the doors slightly open and revealing the rack that’s stuffed full with clothes. you grin, taking in the rather bare walls, give for a few pictures of him and friends and some sports posters.

“cute.” you say softly, running your fingers along the length of his dresser. you gasp when rafe’s hands snake around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. “you okay?” he asks, the feel of his breath on your skin sending goosebumps up your arms. you turn to face him, your ass pressed into the dresser as rafe steps further into you.

your eyes find his, dropping down to his lips and back up again. “yeah.. i’m perfectly fine.”

the tension in the room thickens, buzzing through your body like electricity. rafe’s eyes drop to your lips and continue their descent down your body before slowly dragging back up and stopping on your lips again.

“rafe i-” you begin, but his lips crashing against yours has the words dying on your tongue, a moan escaping you instead.

rafe slips his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with yours as his hands run up and down the sides of your body. he drags his hands up your sides, all the way up to your face. he firmly cups your cheeks, kissing you like he’s trying to steal your air for himself.

he backs the two of you toward the desk that sits against a far wall in his room, his lips never leaving yours, hands gliding down your sides. he reaches your thighs, gripping at them tightly and lifting you up onto the desk. your hands find his face, pulling him further into you, tongues tangling and teeth clashing before he pulls away breathless. his blue eyes search yours, your heart tugging in your chest at the deep pools of blue burning into your face.

rafe’s lips tilt up in a slight smile, his fingers lazily running along your thigh. “tell me what you want.” he rasped, his eyes never leaving yours.

your chest heaves as you try and catch your breath, and your voice comes out slightly shaky as you say, “you.”

the one word was all rafe needed to hear, his fingers gripping the bottom of his shirt and pulling it over his head. he tosses it to the floor before he’s kissing you again, his hands roaming every inch of your body through your dress. his hands run up your thighs, disappearing under your dress. he runs his fingers along the crease of your thigh, toying with your thong, a small groan escaping him.

you push him off you, his lips detaching from yours, strings of spit pulling and attached to both of your lips. he eyes you curiously. “you okay?” he says slowly.

you smile. “yeah. perfect. i just.. i have one request.”

the corner of his lips tip slightly, head cocked to the side. “yeah, yeah what’s up?”

“can we,” you pause, laughing and shaking your head because you’re afraid he might find you ridiculous for even asking. he barely knows you. you shake away the nerves, continuing with your thoughts anyways. “can we record us? i just.. i want to get back at spencer… i know it’s stupid and i have nothing to prove but-”

rafe cuts you off with his lips on yours, kissing you softly and slowly. he finally breaks away, gripping your face in his hands. “shut up. it’s not stupid, i get it and i’m down. i’ve grown sick of spencer’s shit, so this’ll be fun.”

you smile, a wide genuine smile as you softly push him back. hopping off his desk, you kick your heels off your feet before gripping the hem of your dress and pulling it over your head. you stand in front of rafe, in nothing but a black lace thong and bra. his eyes widen as he takes in your body, his bottom lip brought between his teeth. “goddamn… he cheated on you? fucking idiot…”

you laugh, looking for your phone and frowning when you realize you’d left it downstairs with lexi. “shit.. i left my phone downstairs with lex.”

rafe chuckles, moving past you and toward his nightstand. he grabs his phone off the top, opening his camera app and switching it to video mode. he starts the video, setting the phone up on his desk, a perfect view of his bed on the screen. “done.” rafe breathes, stepping back, turning and gripping your hips again.

he lifts you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he kisses you harshly again. you moan against his lips, grinding yourself against him. rafe groans, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before he releases it with a messy pop. he drops you onto his mattress, watching as your hair fans out around you. “you’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”

a blush heats your cheeks and you eyes watch him intently as he begins stripping himself of his khakis and boxers. he stands before you, completely naked, his long and thick cock bobbing in the air. you begin salivating at the sight of him. your hand reaches out, hesitantly wrapping it around his thick length. rafe groans, his head thrown back as your name leaves his lips on a breathless whisper.

you begin stroking him slowly, running your hand from the base to the tip, squeezing at his smooth, pink head. precum drips from the slit of his dick, and you quickly dart your tongue out, running it along the slit to catch it, the taste of him exploding on your tastebuds has you moaning. you drop him from your hand and rafe steps back, grabbing his phone and switching it to the back camera. he fists your hair tightly, wrapping your loose strands around his hand once, twice before tugging your head up. your eyes stare into the camera lense, his next words coming out harsh and breathless.

“suck my cock, pretty girl. go on, show me how good you are at swallowing dick.”

you bite your bottom lip, smiling up at him. your eyes never leave the camera lense as your tongue darts out, licking up the bottom of his shaft. your tongue continues its teasing motions, tracing the vein that runs up the bottom of his thick cock, all the way up to his swollen and leaking tip. you wrap your lips around him, sucking at him softly before pushing him completely down your throat.

“oh shit… that’s it pretty girl… just like that.” rafe groans, his hand holding the camera lowering, capturing every second of your mouth working at his dick. the hand that fists your hair tightens, holding you in place as he begins thrusting his hips, brutally fucking himself down your throat. the room is filled with your slurps and gags, rafe’s groans also bouncing off the walls. your clit pulses in sync with his dick, throbbing and twitching inside your mouth before he’s roughly pulling himself back.

he breathes heavily, letting out a breathless laugh. “jesus, i almost came too soon.”

rafe moves and sets his phone back up on the desk, making sure it’s perfectly positioned on his bed before he’s walking toward you. he flips you onto your back again, crawling on top of you and kissing your lips hard. he pulls his lips from yours, pushing up with his hands and pulling at the cups of your bra, letting your tits spill out. he groans at the sight of them. his lips wrap around a nipple, sucking and biting at it before he switches to the other, giving it the same attention. he finally pulls back, blowing on your nipples, the cool air making them tighten more.

his fingers run down the length of your stomach, stopping once he reaches the waistband of your panties. he slowly pushes them down, your ass lifting to help him get them off. his eyes find your glistening pussy, a slow exhale escaping his lips. “fuck… you’re so wet…”

he leans over, opening the top drawer of his nightstand and pulling out a condom. he rips the packet open with his teeth, pulling out the lubricated condom before he’s slowly dragging it down his length. your chest heaves, eyes watching him as he grips himself in his hand, slowly lining himself up with your soaked entrance. “gonna feel so fuckin’ good… you ready?”

you give him a small nod, breathing out an “mhmm” before rafe slowly pushes his tip inside you. your hands wrap around his neck, nails digging into the skin of his back and dragging down as he slowly pushes more of himself inside you.

the two of you moan in unison when he bottoms out inside you, “fuck you feel so good..” rafe groans, his body unmoving as he lets you adjust to his size. you play with the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling his head down and kissing him, teeth nipping at his bottom lip.

“rafe… please? please fuck me.” you beg him, and he groans.

“yes ma’am.” is all he says before he’s slowly dragging out and slamming back inside. his hips start a quick pace, moving in and out of you harshly, his tip hitting a spot inside you that had your toes curling and bright white light blinding your vision.

you moan his name, loudly crying out and your fingers tug at his hair, scratch at his back, gripping onto any part of him you can as he brutally fucks himself inside you.

“mmmm you’re so fuckin’ wet and tight, i feel that sweet pussy gripping ‘round me, pretty girl… you gonna cum f’me? want you to make a fuckin’ mess on my cock.”

your pussy flutters around him, a moan of his name spilling past your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut. the first orgasm hits you hard, your body tensing, legs shaking as you come undone around him. rafe smiles, quickly pulling himself out of you and flipping you onto your stomach. he lifts your ass into the air, giving it a harsh smack before he’s climbing off the bed, grabbing his phone and making his way back to you.

he points the camera in your face, groaning as he says “look at that pretty face… look so damn beautiful after you’ve cum around my cock baby.”

you give the camera a lazy smile, your eyes fluttering shut when he pushes himself back inside you from behind this time. he pulls the camera away from your face, focusing it on where his dick disappears inside your soaked cunt. he lowers the camera, capturing every detail of your pussy gripping his cock. “goddamn.. look how good she squeezes my dick. never seen anything more fuckin’ sexy.”

he pulls the camera back up, holding it up with one hand as his free hand grabs onto your hip. he begins pounding inside you again, reveling in the sweet noises he pulled from you with each thrust of his hips. your pussy clenches down around him again, squeezing him tightly and he lets out a strangled moan. “fuck baby, you gonna cum again?” he teases, his hand that’s holding your hip releasing it, landing a harsh smack to your ass again.

a loud cry is pulled from you as your second orgasm washes over you, this one dragging out and lasting longer than the first. rafe never lets up, his pace never faltering. he fucks himself into you, helping you ride out your high. once you come down, he’s pulling out again, setting the phone back up and lifting you into his arms. his hands hold the underside of your ass and he backs you into a wall, kissing you hard, his tongue tangling with yours as he grips his dick again, shoving himself inside you again. the new position coupled with the ways he’s holding you, his hands moving your hips up and down his length and the sensitivity from your previous two orgasms already has you seeing stars.

“that’s it baby, taking my cock so fucking well.”

your vision blurs, nothing but white light blinding you as your pussy clenches around him again. rafe’s dick twitches inside you, a strangled “fuck” and call of your name falling from him as he slams you down one final time. he holds you in place, your body shaking in his hold as you cum around him and he empties himself inside the condom.

once the two of you come down from your highs, rafe kisses your lips softly, “did so fucking good, so good baby. you’re such a good girl.”

you smile at him softly, your body fucked out and exhausted but your mind still floating on cloud nine from the three orgasms he’s drawn out of you. rafe slips himself from inside you, laying you in his bed and covering you up before grabbing his phone and stopping the video. he discards the condom in the trash, climbing into his bed with you and wrapping his arms around your body, pulling your sleeping figure into him and kissing the top of your head.

quickly opening his texts, he finds spencer’s contact and sends a quick text.

rafe: *attachment 1 video* don’t worry bro, she’s taken care of now. you’re stupid as fuck for letting this one go.

once he sends the video he smiles to himself, moving the video to a private folder for himself before locking his phone and laying down with you. he nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving soft kisses as he whispers, “don’t worry pretty girl. you’re mine now, and i’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

tagging some moots: @quinnsbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @nemesyaaa @maybejj @sarahsangelicdoll @rafesheaven @rafescvntyclubgf @dementedkittenribbon @hauntedfawnn @memoirofasparklemuff1n @rafesbabygirlx @cherrygirlfriend @maybanksangel @jjsbaby @jjslaybank @littlelamy

[sweetpupii]

cw: dub-con,　fingering,　sev’s mechanic arm vibrates,　 degradation,　 hair pulling, 　 overstimulation,　 cunnilingus (r!giving), no aftercare at all. | 2,3k words, barely proofread I'm sorry.

　coming back to the last drop after a rough deal, five in the goddamn morning, wiping blood that isn't hers off her clothes, a nasty cut on her cheek, thick eyebrows positioned into a nasty frown, a bottle of strong liquor she took from the counter ( even if the bar was open, the bartender would have not stopped her ) on her metallic hand as she went upstairs into silco's office, knocking heavily on the door, ready to speak about how jinx—living up to her name—almost turned the guy who's the usual contact for shimmer distribution into bones and ashes for whatever reason when she wasn't even supposed to be there, is definitely the worst part of sevika's job.

little shit, always getting on her nerves. sevika just wants to smack some sense into that fucked up brain but silco's the only thing that keeps her from doing so.

and of course she had to clean after the bluenette.

after all, you can't attack a trafficker without consequences. an eye for an eye turned quite literal when the man's eye popped because one of the window crystals from jinx's explosion flew right onto it and his men tried to jump at sevika. ‘bit stupid if you ask me…yes, their boss almost died and all but did they really think they could take this woman down with a few weak punches? they lack common sense, apparently.

now the drug dealer has one eye and five men nearly dead.

oh, great, just what she needed—silco is not even in his office. she wants to break something and rip her hair out.

“sevika? didn't see you coming in.” right, sometimes she forgets you come clean the mess the people at the bar make. taking care of the alcohol, the drugs, the shattered glasses, the unknown fluids, etc, that can be found on every corner just so they can do it all again the next day. cleaning up jinx's mess seems like nothing compared to your job. “everyone left already.”

she looks up from the couch to the door where you are standing with a surprisingly warm smile for someone who's working so early in the morning—god knows when your shift even started.

“silco also left like an hour ago, I was hoping I could secretly clean his office because it smells a little… funky.” you laughed gesturing to the mop on your hand before walking into the room, turning your back at sevika while picking up some bright neon, spray painted decoration from the floor to put it on his desk again. focused on getting the job done since she didn't seem in the mood to talk. ( rude but makes sense. )

how is the poor, pent up woman supposed to resist that heaven-sent view?

hand suddenly on your waist as she took one final swing of the strong liquor, pulling you closer even if you gasped and automatically tried to pull away. when did she even get up from the couch? “stay still.” she warned putting the bottle down on his desk to hold your hips more firmly against her front.

“I probably should go clean somewhere—” she could only scoff at your nervous words. yeah, like she'd want you to leave right now when all she needs is someone to pour her stress onto.

“shut up, what did I just say? stay still.”

this woman is one rough motherfucker and that applies to every aspect of her life, as you can tell by how tightly she's gripping at your hips as she moves you to bend over silco's desk. her calloused hand swiping away most of his stuff away, making sure your torso is flush against the wooden—and still dusty—surface, her fingers tangle themselves on your hair to keep your head down.

your legs go just a little weak. but hey, it's just you being tired from cleaning for hours now!

…or maybe it's the wall of pure muscle behind you sliding her mechanic hand under your pants, tracing your panties while she keeps talking.

“been a long fucking night.” her face buried itself on your neck, not even kissing the skin before nibbling on it. why would she? she doesn't owe you any gentleness. her body weight pressing you forward—the action making sure you can feel the cool metal of her fingers. the sharp tips lightly scratching the fabric of your underwear in a way that shouldn't feel this good, especially in the current circumstances but oh, well.

“are you stupid or deaf?” she pulled on your hair a little before pushing your head back down on the desk when she felt your hips moving away from her as soon as her arm made a loud mechanical sound, the rather strong vibration coming right after making you shudder.

you didn't mean to move like that, lifting your hips away from her, but you couldn't help it! the vibration was so out of nowhere it startled you. who's fault is that, hm? definitely sevika's. but I wouldn't say that out loud if I were you—you know, keeping in mind there's still blood that isn't hers on her clothes and body. just saying.

“hey, wait—”

your protests meaning nothing to her as she tugged ( ripped ) your pants and underwear down. “look at that, you whine but you're getting wet?” the most mocking scoff ever coming out of her lips while she pressed her vibrating fingers even more firmly on your now bare clit.

“it's not that much, you're just weak. get over it.”

she's right, it does feel like you're getting weaker by the second. the feeling getting more overwhelming as she gets meaner. “never thought of quitting? cleaning is definitely not your job, the brothel would work way better.” she's infuriatingly good at talking though, it's annoying.

“i mean, look at you. I'm sure people would pay more to see this ass than what silco does for you to clean his shit.” she squeezed one cheek to emphasize her own point, giving a slap to watch it jiggle, her lower lip caught with her teeth at the sight. she could get used to it, actually.

“there we go, see? wasn't so hard to keep quiet.” her fingers are no longer cold, now sticky and warm from your body heat—body heat she proudly increased by the way—while her hand starts to move back and forth to cause more sensations, moans and trembles.

you feel like it's too much? oh, baby, she hasn't done anything yet!

you realize she's actually doing something when you notice her sliding two thick fingers—lucky for you, real ones instead of the sharp prosthetics—stretching you out without a single warning as the vibration on your clit does not cease at all.

the wet sounds combined with the slap of skin and buzzing coming from in between your legs absolutely obscene in a way that's fucking humiliating. god, you shouldn't be this horny for a woman that treats you like a hooker she found in an alley but it would be a terrible lie if you said it didn't make your lower belly burn and tingle in a way you've felt before, but definitely not with that intensity.

her scent—blood, sweat, and that funky, smoky tang that always clings to her—feels pretty intoxicating, to the point it's impossible to think straight.

you bit your lip, frustrated at the way your own body seems to betray you with the moans you fail to hold back. no amount of deep breaths able to help you. the mixture of pleasure and pain seems to blur together, forcing an embarrassingly whiny whimper to escape before you can even stop it.

“what's wrong?” sevika murmurs with a mocking chuckle, her fingers curling just right, pressing against your g-spot as if she knew your body better than you and honestly with the amount of experience she has, she might as well. “guess you like being treated like a common whore, huh, is that it?”

heat goes straight to your cheeks and down yourq back at her words, and yet again your body completely ignores your internal struggles, hips rocking against her hand despite your best efforts to stay still. she noticed, of course she did, using that to give a punishing thrust that suddenly feels way too deep.

“yeah, that's what I thought,” she scoffed, voice dripping with disdain, but her movements became more purposeful. her metallic fingers pressed firmly against your clit with no mercy, the vibrations and the movements had you clutching at the edge of the desk.

“look at you,” sevika muttered, more to herself than you, as if fascinated by the way your body responds to her rough thrusts. “maybe I'll keep you here, bent over silco's desk, let him walk in and see what a filthy slut you are.”

the thought sent a jolt of humiliation and twisted excitement through you, and sevika definitely feels it, her lips turn into the most asshol-smirk you've ever seen ( if you were able to ), and she speeds up, the wet, obscene sounds of her fingers working you echoing in the small office.

"go on," she said, "are you gonna keep pretending you don't like it?"

sevika doesn't even think about slowing down as she felt the way your walls squeezed her tight enough to earn a small groan from her—your moans being her motivation to keep going through your orgasm—drawing every last tremor from your body until you're left breathless and boneless, slumped over the desk.

she finally pulled out after god knows how long, her fingers sticky and wet from your fluids. sevika raised them to her lips, absolutely shameless, eyes locked on yours as she licked the digits clean with a deliberate, slow drag of her tongue, enjoying the dazed expression on your pretty face while you panted.

“come on, to the floor.” oh, lord, she's still going?

she sat on the couch, pants lowered to her ankles before you could even register her words. shaky legs doing the best they can when you kneeled down in between her thighs. so tired that taking a nap on ‘em seems like the best idea ever, but you can't do that now—not when she's already manspread there, waiting with a cigar on her lips ( probably stole it from silco's desk or something, everything’s happening way to quick for your brain to comprehend ) while casually lighting it up like she didn't just rearrange your guts with her fingers.

free hand wrapping around your hair again, this time guiding your face to her lower abdomen, soft lips pressed on the happy trail that decorated her sweaty skin in a way that now felt sinfully good. “open.”

how could you say no when she's looking down at you like that, making you eat her out as she exhales the heavy smoke?

a low groan, almost imperceptible to your ears covered by her thighs, comes out of her when she finally feels your mouth trail down and down and down, her legs spreading further so you can taste her better.

the scent of her mixed with the smell of cigar was all you could notice. her grip on your hair tightens, not enough to truly hurt, but enough to remind you where you are. half naked, wet and sticky inner thighs, now a sticky mouth, kneeling down on some floor you were supposed to be cleaning while eating the pussy of a 185cm tall woman who disfigured a group of men a few hours ago.

almost in a trance, your lips part, tongue darting out to give her a tentative lick. the taste is overwhelming, consuming your senses until nearly all you can focus on is the feel of sevika,the taste of sevika, the scent of sevika. “that’s it, knew you were playing dumb.” huh, who would've thought you'd be doing this and liking it?

your tongue took another swipe at her dripping slit, this time lingering longer, trying to get deeper. a husky moan from her motivating you to keep going.

at the light twitch on her hips, you vary your technique—going from licking long stripes up and down to swirling your tongue around her already sensitive clit, before dragging it lower to spear into her weeping entrance. the sound of her breathing turns ragged as you lost yourself in the act of pleasing her, of tasting her, of being the cause of such raw feelings.

her hips start to move, grinding her achingly greedy cunt against your face, you grabbed at the tensing muscles on her thighs for support meanwhile she basically used your face like a toy for her own pleasure. not caring if you can breath or not. smearing your lips and chin with her own fluids just like you did with her hand. ( was it revenge? probably not since it's a win-win situation for sevika. )

lost in a haze of sensations, you barely register the heavy, strong hand pressing down on the back of your head, holding you in place—forcing you to feel every clench and twitch. the world narrows down to the taste of her, the scent of her, the feel of her, until you can barely recall why you ever resisted the idea of doing what she says.

oh?

oh.

she did not just come, make you lick all of it and then push you away. ( she absolutely just did, the motherfucker. )

“okay, that's it, enough.” the fucking audacity to get up, fix her pants and just leave you there, sat on the cold floor as if you were a simple stray dog who got its five minutes of petting from a stranger. “clean up the mess you made.”

“hold on—”

she just left without even listening?! great, now you're stuck having clean a messy desk, pick up the paperwork from the floor, your own panties and pants and having to get rid of the wet, creamy stain on silco's couch that apparently ‘you’ made as if it wasn't sevika's cum.

what a rollercoaster of a night.

masterlist

[stargirlygirl]

downpour

bakugou katsuki x fem!reader ⋆｡°✩ — medieval fantasy!au, size difference kink, age gap (he's mid-thirties, she's late teens early twenties), nsfw, smut, p in v, oral sex fem!receiving, dubcon? (she's known him since she was a kid), unprotected sex (don't be like them!), 4.8k words

a/n: despite what i've said here, he's not the best thing that's ever happened to you ladies

You groan, hearing the thunder roar from the pouring heavens above. The cold rain soaks into your most modest dress, making the embroidered pale yellow fabric cling to your skin. Your hair sticks to your forehead, wild like a bird’s nest. But wet. Your bones ache with the chilly dampness, and your toes squelch in your boots.

As lightning blankets the sky, you ask yourself why tonight had to be like this — the night before you’re supposed to get married. You look behind you with wide eyes, positive that you’ve lost the guards chasing you. Their princess.

You slow to a walk and tighten your grip on the heavy fabric of your dress, hiking it up to your ankles (wench). You’re breathing erratically from running and from your fear of being caught. You already miss the warmth of the castle and the comfortable life you led with your parents and siblings.

“Get it together, y/n,” you whisper. The thunder screeches over your pathetic attempt at self-motivation. With a huff, you look up from your mud-covered boots and gaze at your surroundings. You’ve been wandering through this forest for a long time now. You’re cold, wet, and tired. You need a rest. You whine, seeing the pitch-black forest all around you. At least no animals would try to attack you, right?

You trudge on for a little longer, grumbling to yourself about how maybe you should have just sucked it up and stayed in the castle. But when you think of your betrothed, you remind yourself that this is a good decision. For the first time in your life, you’re choosing your future happiness and freedom. And that’s exciting. It would be even more exciting if you weren’t shivering and sniffling and stumbling every ten feet.

There’s one thing you need right now — well, not just one, but the main one — shelter. You need somewhere to rest for the night. You gaze up, analysing the dense trees and shrubbery. In the distance, you can see the faintest light. With renewed energy, you set off in that direction. As you draw nearer, the light becomes brighter. It’s warm, golden-orange like egg yolks. Like fire.

Feeling both hungry and invigorated, you walk faster. Ducking beneath a tree branch, you see that the light is emanating from a cabin. It’s more like a shack, really, with how small it is. But it looks sturdy, safe, and, most importantly, dry inside.

You run the last few steps to the cabin, panting as you reach the door. You knock on the door loudly, hoping that whoever is inside will show you mercy. No response. You knock again, louder. Still, no response. Growing impatient, you turn the door knob and press your body against it to push it open.

As you stumble inside, you call out, “Hello. Hello! Sorry for intruding, um—” It’s empty. You slam the door shut and rest against it as you gaze around the cabin. A fire burns in the fireplace. The scolding tongues lick the base of a heavy pot hanging above it, casting shadows on the walls and across the furniture. You rush over to it with your hands out, eager to feel the fire’s heat. You sigh as it tickles your skin.

You close your eyes, allowing the warmth to seep into your soul. Your dress soon becomes hot yet damp, a most uncomfortable combination. You kick off your boots and place them by the door before reaching for the back of your dress. You pull at the lacings, loosening them and shimmying your dress down to your ankles. You bend down and grab it, grimacing at the mud splattered on the hem and the deep golden colour of the gown from how wet it is. Draping it over the arm of a nearby chair, you hear the door rattle.

You stand there, paralysed by fear, as the door swings open, revealing a huge, shadowy figure. You scream as the lightning cracks and the figure stalks in. Your hands cover your mouth as you stare at the brute of a man in front of you. The cloak he’s draped in doesn’t conceal his muscular frame, and he carries a pile of wood on his back. Sharp red eyes glare at you, and his full lips are twisted into a scowl.

He growls, “WHAT’RE YOU DOIN’ HERE?!” Your mouth is dry as he comes over to you. His shadow casts your frame in darkness as he drops the wood on the ground. You flinch at the thud, stepping back slightly. Your heart thumps in your chest so hard and loud you feel like it’s about to burst.

You stutter, avoiding his harsh gaze, “I-I’m sorry I-I had nowhere else t-to go. I-I saw your cabin, and I—”

“Made yourself at home, huh?” He grunts. You nod frantically as you watch him untie the heap of wood and throw a few into the fire lazily. The flames crack and pop at the new addition, dimming and then brightening.

“Get out of my cabin!” He grumbles, staring daggers into you. Suddenly, you feel so bare beneath his gaze. You realise that you’re only wearing your undergarments. No proper way for a princess to dress, especially around a man who wasn’t her husband. But you don’t care as you invade his personal space and cling to his arm.

You plead for him to let you stay the night, but he pushes you off and yells at you to leave. Shaking your head, you drop to your knees. You stare up at him with big eyes and quivering lips as you beg, “Please! Please! Don’t make me go back out there, please! I’ll do anything! I’ll be good. I promise. I won’t get in your way. You won’t even know that I’m here. Just let me stay the night! Please!”

He gazes down at you with raised brows and a slackened jaw, unsure of what to make of your sudden outburst. He gulps and looks away from you. Tch. You sniffle as he walks over to the door, expecting him to throw it wide open and force you out.

Instead, he shrugs off his cloak and hangs it on a hook next to the door. Holy moly— Your eyes rake over his toned back. The shadows illuminate his juicy muscles, and you can feel the saliva pooling in your mouth as he turns around.

He grunts, “Only for tonight.” You nod enthusiastically as you try to tear your eyes away from his godly frame. Even the scars marring his skin look heavenly. You wanna take a bite of those biceps with the way they flex and—

“STOP LOOKING AT ME, WOMAN!” He yells. You hum and avert your eyes, getting off the floor. As a princess, you’ve never had to beg anyone for anything before. And you hope that you don’t have to ever again. You shift to standing in front of the fireplace, sighing as the heat sinks into your pores.

He grumbles, “Could you move?” You gaze up at him, confused, as he looms beside you. Nodding, you shift to the side. You hope he thinks the redness of your face is from the fire and not your embarrassment. He takes this opportunity to stir the stew, filling the pot. You watch with curious eyes as he slurps from the spoon.

He orders you to sit down, and you do as you’re told, planting yourself down on the same chair your dress is drying on. You’re delighted to watch his delicious muscles at work as he takes the pot off the fire and dishes out the stew for you to eat.

He hands you a bowl and spoon, which you take, thanking him. He sits on the chair beside you and starts downing his soup at an alarming rate. You stir the hearty goodness, identifying some veggies and meat of some sort. You slurp a mouthful and moan in delight.

The spiky blond stares at you, his cheeks full of stew. You can hear the blood rushing in your veins, somehow flowing more to your face as you gaze at your bowl.

You mutter, “It’s really good.”

“It’s just stew,” he grunts. You hum as you resume eating your dinner in silence. Once he’s finished, he starts cleaning up the dishes. Your cheeks are aflame as your eyes roam his body, content to gaze at him doing domestic chores.

With a deep breath in, you ask, “So, what’s your name?

He grumbles, “What’s it to you?” You shrug, blowing on a spoonful of stew.

His back is to you, washing his bowl as you say, “Can’t I know the name of the man who’s letting me stay in his cabin on such a dreary night?” He’s quiet for the next few minutes, so you assume that he’s not going to tell you.

As he wipes the cooking pot dry, he mutters, “Katsuki.” You hum, your mouth full of stew. That name… There was something familiar about it. Shaking your head, you push the feeling aside. That’s ridiculous, you think. Of course, you don’t know him, right? How could you forget someone so… handsome rough?

You swallow before chirping, “It’s nice to meet you, Katsuki. I’m y/n.” His eyes flicker to you before darting back to the pot. When you’re finished, he stalks over to you and grabs your empty bowls. He avoids your gaze, seeing something he hasn’t seen in a long time.

He’s about to step away from you when he grabs the neckline of your dress. You gaze at him with a crease in your brow until it clicks. You snatch the damp gown from him, but it’s too late. He stares at you with wide eyes as he asks, “Why do you bear the royal crest?” You shake your head.

“It’s nothing, really.”

He grunts, “Don’t lie to me.” He grabs your dress and yanks it out of your hands, dragging you to the edge of the plush chair.

He spits out each word harshly, saying, “Why do you bear the royal crest? Are you from the castle?” You’re screaming at yourself internally to lie despite how awful you are at it.

You ramble, “It’s not what you think it is! I’m-I’m a maid. A maid for the royal family!”

He scoffs, “A maid? Only the royal family is permitted to wear the royal crest.” He discards the dress and bowl on the floor and steps the slightest bit closer, positioning himself between your legs. He palms the armrests as he leans over your quivering frame, glaring at you.

“So, cough it up, woman. You’re either a dirty thief or a runaway royal. So, which is it?” You gulp as you avert your eyes from literally anything other than his perfect body hovering so close to yours.

He grunts, “Said your name was y/n?” His large hand falls to your knee and pushes up the sheer fabric coating your thighs.

“What’re you doing?” You exclaim with wide eyes. He clicks his tongue at you as his rough fingers run across your soft skin. His thumb traces your birthmark from memory. The look in his eyes is soft, reminiscent as he captures yours.

He smirks, “S’been a long time, your highness.” You gulp. What?

He chuckles, “I don’t expect cha to remember me. You were a tiny thing back then.” You blink at him in confusion. Those red eyes, that lopsided grin, and deep voice. A sense of deja vu.

“Sir Bakugou!” You blurt out, staring up at him in disbelief. He eases off, removing his warm palm from your thigh. He nods as he rises to his full height, towering over you. You stand up as he steps back, cautious but excited.

“I can’t believe it’s you! I could barely recognise you with all this,” you say, pointing to his scars and buff physique. “The last time I saw you, I was what… ten?” He hums lowly, his eyes trailing over your matured figure.

He grins, “You’re all grown up now, eh?” You giggle and slap his bare chest playfully, earning you a scowl.

“What was that for?!” He says, his chest rumbling. You laugh, unable to hold yourself back. It’s been so long since you’ve seen each other. So long since you could just be yourself around someone else.

Calming down, you breathe out, “It hasn’t been the same since you left.” He hums and picks up your empty bowl, walking over to the kitchen area.

You follow him, saying, “Everything’s gone downhill since then. Father is always stressing over the constant conflicts between lords, and Mother won’t speak to him most days. And he keeps marrying off my sisters to foreign princes, trying to establish political ties. But how can you try to ally yourself with other countries when yours is falling apart?”

Katsuki grumbles, “S’that why you ran away?” You hum, watching him rinse the suds off the bowl and then dry it off.

You mumble, “I can’t marry someone I don’t even know, Sir—”

“You don’t have to call me that anymore, yea?” He grunts. You’re stunned for a moment before humming in agreement.

He continues, “N’ I’m not just talkin’ about getting married off. Looks like yer finally using that brain of yours.” You scowl at him, earning you a hearty bellow. He puts the bowl away and guides you to one of the two rooms at the back of the cabin. He opens the door and ushers you inside.

In the corner sits a large barrel bathtub, and there’s a stone sink jutting out from the wall. You gulp as you turn around to face the blond.

He mutters, “Water’s already hot. I’ll get you something to put on after, alright?” You nod and hum.

As he turns to leave, you reach out and grab his forearm. You don’t know what compelled you to do something so inappropriate, but you can’t help yourself as you gaze at him.

You say quietly, “I missed you, Katsuki. I miss my favourite guard protecting me and taking care of me. It’s… I wish you didn’t leave.” Your gaze falls from his eyes to his arm and finally rests on your hands wrapped around him. He can’t take his eyes off of your pouty lips.

He grumbles, “I had to leave—”

“But why?” You cry out. “I thought you liked being my guard—”

“’Course I liked being your guard, doll. S’not about that,” he sighs.

“Then—”

He grunts, tugging his arm from your grasp, “I don’t wanna talk about it. Just bathe, for fuck’s sake, will ya?” He stalks out of the room, leaving you all alone. You obey, stripping out of your undergarments and soaking in the water. True to his word, it’s hot. The perfect temperature, actually. The heat penetrates your clammy skin, warming up your bones and muscles.

You sigh, relaxing in the bath. Moments of the past fill your mind. Your days were spent learning how to fence, running around and playing in the gardens, and having picnics by the nearest river. All with your head guard, Sir Bakugou.

You chuckle softly as you remember the day you told Katsuki about your birthmark. You had just learnt what it was from your mother and skipped off to show your favourite knight. You remember how warmly he laughed at you and patted your head when you showed it to him. And how you pestered him about any birthmarks he had.

Feeling too hot, you rise and climb out of the barrel. You wrap a thin linen towel around yourself and dry off. When you’re done, you open the door and peek your head out. Katsuki notices you immediately and comes over to you, thrusting one of his long shirts in your hand. You thank him as you take it from him and shut the door.

After you get changed, you walk out of the bathroom into the main area where bedding has been laid out. Your eyes rove over the glistening waves of a fur blanket; your heart rate picks up. You gasp as callous palms cup your shoulders and gently squeeze them. You gaze back at the man behind you.

He mutters, “You take the bed. I’ll sleep out ‘ere tonight.” You shake your head.

“No, it’s okay. I can—”

“M’not letting my princess sleep on the floor,” he grunts.

You start, “But—”

“Quit being such a brat. Do as yer told n’ go to bed,” he growls. Against your better judgment, you shake your head again. He groans as you turn around. Your bodies are close. Too close for comfort. It’s like lightning strikes between you two with the way your chests ghost each other.

You gulp, your heartbeat growing to be as loud as the thunderstorm overhead. You utter his name, earning a gruff “What?” in response.

“Can I… do something a bit improper?” You ask tentatively. He chuckles lowly, red eyes drifting to the bed before looking back at you.

He smirks, “When do you not?” You hold your tongue, hesitant to ruin the tension between you two. You shuffle that much closer to him, your hands flat against his pecs. He shivers at the feeling of your delicate skin on his.

Katsuki grunts, “You done yet?” You shake your head before tilting your chin up. You gaze at him with big eyes, puffing at your lips ever so slightly. Your hands trail down his abs before roaming up his chest and to the back of his neck.

He groans, “The fuck you want, doll?” You draw the side of your lip between your teeth as you pull him down to you.

You’re on your tiptoes, your lips brushing his ear lobe as you whisper, “You.” His hands are on you in an instant, pulling you into his solid torso. He grabs your chin, forcing you to gaze into his eyes before he kisses you.

You moan into his mouth, thrilled that this is finally happening. That your fantasy is becoming a reality. You tug at his locks as he kisses you roughly, teeth-gnashing and tongues swirling. He groans as he explores every corner of your mouth, his hands roughly grabbing your hips.

He pulls back, both of you panting hard. You grin as you catch your breath, staring at him awestruck.

You whisper, “I can’t believe this is happening.” He rolls his eyes at you.

“Don’t fucking start,” he huffs. He’s kissing you again, much more sweetly this time. His grip on you loosens as he strokes up and down your back, feeling every curve and dip beneath the fabric separating your bodies.

You sigh into his lips, enjoying this change in pace. This time, he sucks on your bottom lip, making you gasp before he nips at it. He gently walks you back until you’re stepping on the makeshift bed, the fur luxuriously soft between your toes. You mumble his name, encouraging a groan from him.

Your bodies part for a moment as you both sit on the fur blanket. One of his hands wraps around your knee while the other grasps your cheek. He pulls you into him and lays you down. Your hands grip his shoulders as he kisses down your jaw and neck. You squeeze the muscle there as he gently bites your soft flesh, gasps falling from your lips.

You whimper, “Kat-suki. I’ve been in love with you since—”

“Shut up,” he grunts into your skin, nipping at your flesh harder. You moan, and he pulls back.

He shifts up, his lips brushing yours as he grumbles, “I don’t wanna hear it. Want you to show me, princess. Think you can do that, f’me?” You whine, nodding furiously.

He chuckles, “Good.” He returns to kissing your neck. You moan loudly as he nips at your collarbones and shoulder. Your hands tangle in his spiky locks, massaging and tugging and then massaging again.

You whine as he sits back and peels his shirt off you, leaving you bare beneath him. He groans at the sight of you, his hands wrapped around your wrists and pulling them down to your sides before you can even attempt to cover yourself up.

“Suki!” You gasp as he grabs both of your breasts, one in each hand, and squeezes them. He smirks all cocky as his eyes drink you in. He lowers himself back down, tongue licking the fat of your tit. You bite your lip as he pinches your nipples, rolling them between his fingers deliciously.

Letting go of one, he replaces his fingers with his mouth and sucks on it. You moan, pulling at his roots. Once satisfied, he moves onto your other breast, licking and sucking on it until you’re whimpering and whining his name mindlessly.

Smirking, he kisses your ribcage, your tummy, hips, and stretch marks. He then grabs your wrists one at a time and kisses them before working up your arms with his lips. Even your ankles, calves, and thighs receive his tender affection.

By the time his head dips between your thighs, you feel utterly worshipped from head to toe. You moan his name as his tongue rolls over your clit, your back arching delightfully as he sucks it. His tongue works wonders between your folds, making you feel like no man ever has.

You cry out as his fingers brush your clit and gently rub circles over it while his tongue laps inside of you. With slick-coated fingers, he eases one into your hole, making you gasp and call out his name.

He returns to sucking on your clit; his mouth is so fucking hot, like the heat of the flames prickling your skin, as he fingers you slowly. He curls his finger when he’s deep inside, making you moan even louder.

His other hand grabs yours and intertwines your fingers. He gives you a gentle squeeze, his eyes watching your every gasp and whimper. Your head falls back as he curls a second finger inside of you, hitting that perfect spot.

You moan, “K-Kat-suki. Please, baby. Please.” He hums against your cunt, the vibrations making you buck your hips against his skilful tongue. He pulls off your sopping pussy, keen to hear more.

He groans, voice hoarse from how well he was just eating you out, “What is it, princess?” You mewl as his fingers press into your gummy walls.

You pant, “Need you, Suki. In me-please fuck!” He slowly pulls his fingers out of you, admiring your syrup dripping down his wrist in the firelight.

He chuckles, “Fuck, you really do need me, huh?” You nod enthusiastically.

“Please, baby,” you whine. He shushes you and shifts to pull off his shorts and underwear. You push yourself up on your elbows; legs spread wide lewdly as you watch his huge cock spring free. Just the sight of it, you moan as even more slick gushes from your pussy.

He comes back to you, large hands pushing you back down and grabbing the back of your thighs. He grumbles at you to wait while he grabs a pillow and places it beneath your hips. He then brings your calves over his lower back, his cock running through your folds. Your back arches as his tip slides over your clit, making you moan.

He coats himself in your arousal, his pre-cum mixing with it before he finally slides in. He goes slow, letting you stretch to accommodate his girth. Your arms tighten around his neck as you pull him down to you, your head resting in the crook of his neck. You whine as he pushes in further.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimper into his skin.

He gently kisses your forehead, whispering into your hairline, “S’okay, baby girl. You can take it.” You cry out as his balls press against your ass, his cock so fucking deep inside of you.

You murmur, “You’re so big. Just give me a minute, kay?” He hums into your forehead, sweetly kissing it and working down to your lips. You sigh into his kiss, your noses brushing as he pulls back. His eyes find yours, mesmerised by the warm glow of your skin from the fireplace, that rosy flush.

He mutters, “You ready now?” You hum, nodding. He pecks the tip of your nose before drawing himself out and rocking back into you slowly. You both moan at the feeling, the stretch of your hole wrapping around him. Your eyes gaze at the point where he’s lost inside of you. You look back up, finding him already staring at you.

He fucks you so tenderly you’re uncertain if that term can be used to describe what’s happening right now. The sounds of your sex rival that of the downpour outside. You squeeze his hand as he hits that pleasurable spot, your eyes rolling back from how good it feels.

He lets go of your hand to tilt your head back to him, needing to see that open-mouthed, lust-hazed look on your face. You sigh in pleasure as the light and shadows dance across your bodies, painting your love-making on the cabin walls. You whimper his name pathetically.

He presses a soft kiss to your lips, groaning, “I know, princess.” He draws out of you completely, earning a whine from you. He tuts at you and manoeuvres your bodies so that you’re sitting on his lap.

You lean down and kiss him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You moan into the kiss, stretching up as he aligns himself with your entrance. You slowly lower down onto him, whimpering into his lips while he groans.

You bounce up and down at him at a leisurely pace, taking your time to feel every inch of his length. You sigh as his cock twitches, pre-cum spilling into you. Katsuki cups your cheek in one hand while the other tightens around your waist.

He grunts, “Doin’ so good f’me, baby.” You moan, fists clenching as more pre-cum leaks into you.

“I’m so glad-I found you, Suki,” you mewl. He groans lowly against your jaw, leaving tender kisses there. You drop your hips a little harder, a little faster than before.

“Fuck,” he growls in your ear. Your tits bounce as you do, the most beautiful sight your knight has ever seen. He grabs a handful of one of your breasts and sucks on your nipple before moving both hands to your hips and helping you ride him.

“I-I m-missed you,” you whimper. Your back arches as you feel those tingles gathering in your cunt, your orgasm building every single time your clit slaps his scarred skin as you bounce on his cock.

You cry out, “Katsuki! Fuck, Katsuki! Baby, I’m gonna cum-fuck!” He pulls off your nipple and pulls you into a passionate kiss. You mewl into his lips loudly, squirming in his hold as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten.

Pulling away, you scream out as you orgasm. Your back arches so deeply you know you’re gonna feel it in the morning, but you don’t care. The pleasure shuddering through your body is unlike any other. And it’s only heightened as your love groans loudly, his hot seed shooting into you. It coats your walls thickly, forming a ring around your hole from him fucking his cream into you.

You’re panting hard as you sink down on his cock. Your forehead presses against his as you both catch your breath, trying to process what the fuck just happened.

After a few minutes, you chuckle lazily before kissing Katsuki sloppily. His saliva dribbles down your chin when you part, red eyes full of so many emotions (surely mirroring your own). You call his name softly, but he shakes his head and presses another soft kiss to your lips.

He lays you two down and holds you close, pulling the warm blankets up to your chin. You sigh into his side, so happy you could purr from just being with him. From experiencing such intimacy with the man, you’ve been yearning for for a long time.

You murmur, “Suki, I love you. Please, don’t leave me.” Your hold on his torso tightens, and you nuzzle the side of his pec with your nose. He laughs lightly, the sound reverberating warmly in his chest.

“M’not going anywhere, alright? N’ neither are you. You’re all mine now,” he mutters. You hum into him, soaking up his heat and affection and the knowledge that you’re all his.

He chuckles lowly, “Let’s take five, yea?” You nod, peppering his skin with sweet kisses. You close your eyes; no other words or actions are necessary at this moment. You ease your body into him, shifting slightly and getting comfortable.

Running out into a storm was not your best decision, but the man it led you to is.

[mvctavish]

hesdcanosn for graves and price where the reader is pretty bossy and kind of intimidating? for graves she's sort of the co-commander of shadow co. and for price she's the 141's medic

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄 - 𝐁𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐘!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐂𝐒

notes: i love this idea so so much you're a genius anon!! since the relationship wasn't specified... i just made the reader their wife... cuz it felt right to me. if u were hoping for platonic hcs or anything different don't be afraid to send in another ask and i'll do it!! anyways, happy reading <3

summary: (seperate) headcanons of graves and price with a bossy/intimidating wife

cw: wife!reader (for both), deputycommander!reader (for graves), medic!reader (for price), general war stuff idk, probably inaccuracies when it comes to the military/PMCs, reader is kind of bitchy, for price reader is mentioned to be at least smaller than him

cdr. phillip graves

౿ ۪ ݁ he's scared of you, and it's pretty obvious despite his attempts at hiding it. when you get mad, he gets all quiet and mutters a quick and respectful "yes ma'am" no matter what you request or say to him. it's rather funny seeing the commander so scared of his own wife. phillip has seen first-hand just how angry you can get when things don't go your way. the aftermath ain't pretty. while he knows you'd never actually hurt him (besides throw around a few choice words) he prefers to keep the peace at all costs. he hates seeing you upset, whether it's a mission gone sour or down to something little like him leaving the toilet seat up.

you two first met way back in the marines, fresh outta boot camp and ready to conquer the world. even then you were intimidating, a fiery attitude that could challenge the sargeant above you both. you ended up leaving the military when phillip did, and got married not long after. despite the fact that he'd much rather have you not risk your life — you were insistent on being part of shadow company when it was formed, and not behind the scenes.

as his deputy commander, you're right there by his side. the shadows are like family to both you and graves — they're your boys — but you aren't afraid to whip them into shape if necessary. some new recruits are being too rambunctious for your liking? you're giving a sharp, glaring look to your husband and he's quick to get them in line. it doesn't take long at all for them to learn to respect (and fear) you, perhaps even more than graves. you're a force to be reckoned with.

down to the more domestic aspects of your life, you're always on his ass about the upkeep of the house. when you're both home, the work is split 50/50 (which was a huge shock to graves at first since he's always been a bit more traditional) but he knows it's only fair since you both work. you like your house in pristine condition, down to the floorboards being dusted, to the lampshades being in just the right position. you're bossy about little things, like always pairing up the socks when they're taken out of the dryer or him rinsing his beard trimmings down the sink whenever he's done shaving. he knows you tend to get a little pissy when things aren't done exactly how you like them, so that's why graves makes sure he — and the shadows — always listen to your input.

capt. john price

౿ ۪ ݁ price is more impressed than anything. there's so much fire and spirit crammed into one small thing: you. it's funny to him, how most people you interact with can be so intimidated by you. you have the bossy attitude as an angry mother bear, yet can still be sweet when it's needed. price first met you when he was still a lieutenant, suffering from a bad injury on the field. you were the only combat medic on duty. he'd tried to convince you that he was fine — there were other men that needed your help, too, and that he could keep going — but you'd grabbed him by the ear and chewed him out. calling him a "damn fool with a death wish," and that if he wanted to live he'd "better listen to you and sit his ass down." he'd immediately gone quiet and did as he was told. price wasn't used to being spoken to like that, much less from someone of a lower rank. that was the moment he knew he had to have you, and the rest was history.

it took a while to gain your attention around base, and you were the reason he grew out his beard in the first place, after a passing comment that you'd made about how you thought it'd make him more rugged. it took time, but you were worth every second.

relationships in your line of work can be messy, and perhaps one of the worst aspects could be the judgment from others. in one interaction with a new face on base, you'd gotten into quite a heated argument. the guy thought you'd be easy picking, a way to make fun of you and show off in front of his new pals. your sharp tongue and quick insults resulted in the man leaving close to tears, whilst price watched round the corner with a little smirk on his face. deep down, he'd always worry about you. you were his wife, his woman, his world. it was only natural — but instances like that reminded him that you could stand up for yourself. you were strong and independent, and never let anyone walk all over you. you'd been a people pleaser in the past, but never again. you lived for yourself.

once task force 141 was formed, it's obvious that your husband recruited you to join as well. it was difficult, and he had to abuse a few loopholes in the policies to even be allowed to be your CO, but in the end, it worked. rounding back to the mama bear point, ghost, gaz, and soap quickly warm up to you. you're honestly the closest thing any of them have to a mum. a scary, bossy, picky one, but still a mum. your team's safety is your number one priority, and you certainly aren't afraid of getting your hands dirty both figuratively and literally. you keep the boys and price in line, constantly nagging about drinking water and insisting that they need to eat more than just a damn protein barn before a mission. MREs suck, but it's better than going hungry.

price lets you boss him round whenever you two are home from deployment. of course, on the battlefield, he's in charge. but home? it's a different story. the lawn needs to be mowed? you bet it'll be done by the evening. low on groceries? he's starting a list and planning to drive down to the shops. you and price never really get into any real arguments. he's seen you on the battlefield, frightening as you shout orders to anyone around as you're patching up an injured soldier — that sort of intensity is one he does everything to avoid seeing in you.

[tvckerwash]

hmmm I agree it could've been a way to show ambessa's cunning side, but having her be the mastermind behind the attack at all honestly feels...somewhat disingenuous to her character the more I've thought about it. ambessa's thing in season one is that she never lies about her motivations, and is in piltover because she genuinely wants to advise jayce and mel in a time of war—the problem is that she's so blatantly self serving and only doing so for her own goals that it makes it difficult for us as the audience to trust her or her word in any capacity.

for example, is ambessa wrong when she tells jayce that the council is the problem? the mind hiding behind the body or whatever it was she said? in my opinion, no. we've seen that the council was consistently an issue, and jayce himself had been growing more and more frustrated with them over the course of the season, among other things.

I want to be clear though that I'm operating along the lines of "what story beats can be cut or changed to make season two more consistent with season one" over "how can we make the existing plot of season two make more sense while still hitting all of the same beats", as while I think act one is salvageable with changes, acts two and three? nah those gotta go—but that is just my opinion as a guy on tumblr dot com. 

renni's attack on the memorial service would still happen, but instead of it being directly initiated by ambessa it could be because renni was pissed the other barons decided to work with the dude that killed her son (as lbr the only reason ambessa was such a central figure to the plot of season two, alongside mel and the black rose, is so riot could make them champions and sell a book). ambessa would then still use the attack to try and weasel her way into a position of authority in piltover’s government, but there'd be more focus on her battle of wits against mel.

if the chembarons aren't removed from power, then caitlyn would have no need to launch a strike team to take them out and dismantle shimmer since they’d already be doing it, and therefore she would have no need to use the gray. like I don’t think I need to explain why having “the good guys” in the eyes of the writers use chemical weapons is bad and needed to be handled with a level of care the they clearly were not capable of, especially when the only other characters we’ve seen use it as a weapon were silco and jinx respectively. 

IF they wanted to keep the gray, I would’ve kept it as an environmental pollutant and connected it to the forgotten dying firelight tree plotline instead of using it for shipping drama, and they could even still keep said plotline connected to hextech! 

Jayce could have seen how strong, cool and collected Caitlyn was during that attack. Let her save him at some point. I think she could have convinced him to make her Sheriff after that. Plus, Jayce folds like a house of cards any time someone he loves asks him for anything lmao.

one of the things I truly despise about season two is how people have been gaslighted into thinking jayce has no backbone and is incapable of being assertive and putting his foot down when that is not the case at all. go rewatch every interaction he has with marcus and every council meeting he's in after he becomes a councilor.

jayce already knows how capable cait is too, but whether or not she’s capable doesn’t change the fact that he cares about keeping her (and piltover!!!! he's the security guy!!!!) safe above all else. she’d end up as the sheriff eventually, I’m just not convinced it's a position that she’d be given by jayce. I could see mel or ambessa being the ones to suggest it and jayce being outvoted on it though, just swap the fucked up chest thumping dictator scene with an incredibly tense council vote.

I also think jayce being too occupied with viktor as an excuse for anything is...ehhhhhhhh because season one was constantly showing us that jayce took his position as councilor and the responsibilities that came with it very seriously to the point that he was pretty much never at the lab anymore.

anyway I don't think vi needed to break up with cait the way it happened tbh, especially because it was so obviously done for drama and nothing else. this is maybe a hot take but imo caitvi has always been the weakest relationship in the show as it functions entirely off of tropes and ship bait instead of being organically developed. they do not feel like two characters who have any real chemistry together—they feel like dolls having their faces smashed together.

any split between them should've probably revolved around vi's struggles with trying to find a new identity for herself and her remaining loyalty to jinx as her sister (and how it represents her relationship to zaun)—it's important to remember that vi is more ideologically aligned with silco than she is with vander in season one, and getting past her desire to save jinx and the "all enforcers are just asshole criminals in fancy uniforms" was going to take some character development.

the easiest and most tragic answer is to prove silco right—jinx has changed too much for vi. we've already seen her be incredibly distressed over witnessing the brutal violence jinx inflicted on the firelights in episode six of season one for example, so don't give jinx a redemption arc (because she really didn't need one, let her be a bad guy) and make vi see that her mayhem needs to be stopped because people are getting hurt. don't give her a badge immediately either, have her work alongside them like she did with jayce during the shimmer raid, and let vi be the one who decides to put it on of her own accord, not because caitlyn asked her to do so.

The thing that bugs me most about Caitlyn's arc is how obviously she was forced into the position Jayce had been set up to fill.

Jayce was the de facto head of the council that Sheriff Marcus (keep that in mind) reported directly to for city security.

He was the Golden Boy, Man of Progress, beloved by everyone in Piltover for the invention of Hextech! Charismatic! Handsome!

They didn't NEED martial law. After Jayce emerged unscathed from the terrorist attack, most of the council dead, Piltover would have been falling over itself to give him sole authority regardless of him wanting to quit the council right before the attack.

And Jayce should have been beside himself with rage! Jinx turned his invention, his dream, into a weapon that nearly killed him and the two people he loves most! Mel and Viktor, at the same time! She ruined his peace deal! (And killed Silco, but for some reason Cait and Vi never tell anyone about that)

But nope. He's just sad, and tries to talk Caitlyn down from wanting to kill Jinx.... Like wtf!! Where did his passion go?? His recklessness? Caitlyn got it all.

Let's say he's still reeling after killing the kid in his shimmer raid and fearing the consequences of violent intervention. Fine. But then there is the attack at the memorial. Now it's bigger than Jinx, and his entire city is threatened.

Picture the end of episode 1, with the council gathering in the basement after the memorial attack and it is JAYCE marching in to announce the strike team, with Caitlyn and Vi beside him, with their shiny Hextech weapons.

They didn't need to give Caitlyn political power. She could have become Sheriff under Jayce! She would have had nearly the EXACT same scenes. She doesn't get a single moment where she acts like a political leader in Act 2 anyway!

We never see her do anything the sheriff wouldn't do, which tells me this was a late change to cram all the remaining story into one season, to every character's detriment. If Caitlyn had just been following Jayce's orders until running into Vi, her flip would not have felt so jarring.

She loves Jayce as an older brother, she's grieving her mother, she and Jayce could have BOTH been manipulated by Ambessa. Let Caitlyn be at the forefront of all the awful shit she's ORDERED to do, instead of ordering it HERSELF.

By giving her ultimate authority instead, the few clipped scenes of her redemption, her "I know" and letting Jinx go free are nowhere near enough to get the audience back on her side. As evidenced by how many people hated her arc this season.

[shehungers]

FATHOMLESS

eldritch detective x reader |18+| 2.1k

you'd never noticed detective arsenè in the precinct before, even after a number of years working in the office. when you start to ask around about him, they confirm that he's always been there, but you're more worried that they're not mentioning that he has no face...

story warnings; dark content, dubcon leaning sort of noncon (blackouts and spotty memory), sexual content, grotesque + horrific details, this leans more mystery and uncanny valley than anything else, mentions of mc being a drinker, smoking, roughly proofread.

reposted from my deleted blog: theoxenfree.

please share your thoughts with me + reblog!

this is possibly a concept piece to a much larger supernatural, psychological piece. if you'd like to see that, let me know!!

Everyone at the precinct called him Detective Arsené, but they never said anything about his face.

It was simply that there wasn't one there, not that you were able to discern in any instance you'd seen him wandering the floor. You had blamed the long hours, glowing blue screens, useless eye prescriptions, corporate greed, and mixing alcohol with allergy medicine before you finally accepted what you were seeing was real, yet no one else noticed it apart from you.

“What's wrong with his face?” you'd ask anyone with the time to spare to listen.

“Who? Arsené?” they'd laugh, whether in disbelief that you were speaking about Watt City’s genius detective in such a fashion, or that they thought you were the funniest person in the office. “What are you talking about? He's always looked like that! Lay off the booze, yeah?”

Those responses had never been satisfactory enough, going as far to set you ill at ease for the remainder of your shift, sufficiently distracting you from furthering your workload because your mind always came back to the detective and his non-existent face.

“He looks pretty normal to me,” said a senior member in your division. An older man you'd come to know as forthright and virtuous with a history showing that integrity. He had taken eyes off his computer screen, bifocals aside, and pinched the high-point between his brows. “What's this about, really? I've worked with Arsené for years. You know that. He's been here since before I started. Good guy. Hard worker. Drinks too much, though. Just like someone else I know.”

But, this was the first time you had heard he'd worked with Arsené, let alone acknowledged his existence at all. There was no reason for him to lie; he had spoken without inflection, warily, almost accusatory towards the end when he mentioned the alcohol.

“Detective Arsené? Well, I think he's really handsome. He just has that look about him, y'know?” The next person you questioned was a junior at the precinct. A pretty woman who was all silky black hair and long, blunt nails that never touched a surface where they'd be put in peril.

She always used her knuckles type on the clunky keyboard, and did so as she went on, “I've heard he has a really specific type, though. I've also never seen him take anyone out, or take a partner on cases, now that I think about it. Isn't he just a stand-up guy? I'd say he's the sort to bring home to mom and dad, but I hear he's got a drinking problem. Why do all the hot ones have vices like that?”

She particularly enjoyed her gossip, especially if it involved the detectives at the precinct. You were positive she'd never mentioned Arsené before now. As smart as she was, she didn't look below the surface very often when it came to men, so for her to say nothing at all of the detective’s smooth face was mystifying.

After that, you started paying attention to Arsené in a way you convinced yourself was discreet, which meant slowly peeking your eyes above your computer screen to observe his movements across the floor. Always in motion, he stalked around the place with undaunted familiarity, maneuvering the razored corners of desks and blockades from doors and walls, and languidly sidestepped the oncoming traffic of bodies in such a way that seemed premeditated.

Practiced.

Rinse and repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

This staunch dedication of yours lasted well over a week before anything came of it until one morning you found him waiting in your seat, teetering a bloated manila folder on a thigh while bouncing it impatiently. A very real sensation of unease took hold of the back of your neck, like a cold hand stroking lightly at the downy hairs there until they stood straight.

You thought about pretending you hadn't seen him, swiveling around, and leaving in a burst of urgency. It'd be easy to call in to say you had a personal emergency or became suddenly, very viscously ill and wouldn't be able to handle staring at a screen for twelve hours. No one would ask questions because you were exemplary, always on time, and seldom took time off as you couldn't afford to do so.

Arsené’s head slanting sideways and the waxy, flat face pointing directly towards you prevented you from acting on that impulse, however. He gestured you over with a lethargic wave, though the jitteriness in his leg seemed to worsen from impatience into sheer excitability.

“Clocked in early, aren't you? You have quite the habit of doing that, I've noticed.” He greeted, voice simultaneously undefinable and velvety. It wasn't so deep that you felt like it was gravelly or reverberated in the same way a baritone would, but there was a heftiness to it that weighted in your mind, as if it were possible for someone to reach through all your blood, tissue, and bone and press down directly on your brain. “I've seen you come in a few times, hours before anyone else. And you know what I think? I think, ‘That’s the kind of person who keeps a place like this running. That's the kind of person we want here in this precinct. That's the type of person who believes in the work that we do and who I’d want as my partner’.”

As much as you wanted to get away from the horrid sight before you, the no-face and potent voice wriggling around the wrinkles in your brain, you couldn't bring yourself to do so just yet. Not while you had questions you couldn't find answers to, not while you needed to sedate yourself at night because they ruthlessly endangered your dreams and were thieves of peaceful slumber.

“I've never met you before,” you said, giving a cordial handshake when he had offered it to you. The skin of his palm was warm and humanlike, though his grip was all wrong and entirely too firm. You didn't convey this dissonance to him, though. “I've seen you around, though. Were you transferred from a different department or precinct? Everyone says you've been around for a long time, but I find it hard to believe I've noticed.”

“Oh? Well, they'd be right.” Arsené said, finally releasing your hand to take up the thick folder. “I've always been here, and I'm always here. Now, that aside, I've cleared it with the Chief and I'd like you to help me on a case that I'm stuck on. If I've read right, you're the most recent person who's looked through everything to update the records, correct?”

“Probably.” You didn't move when he rolled up another chair from a desk nearby. “I'm a Recorder. It's my job to go through files and periodically update them. I'm not qualified to help detectives on their cases, though. You'd need to speak to the Chief about getting an Assistant for that.”

“Ah, didn't you hear me? That's all been handled. Sit down. Sit down.” He waved you close, then took you by the arm to sit you in the chair next to him. “We have a lot to cover. I think we should start from the beginning and work our way through the evidence list, and then the interrogation tapes. After that, it'd be a good idea to revisit the site of the crime. Don't worry about clearances, I've got everything we need.”

It wasn't often that you saw the inside of the precinct after that day as Arsené particularly enjoyed his busywork and bringing you along for it.

Most days you simply operated as a Field Recorder by transcribing statements into the handheld device provided by the precinct to maintain a digital trail. The work wasn't especially difficult, but it did take a level of skill and technological literacy to be able to do effectively, more so to be the sort allowed to tail after a detective on his cases and still maintain an overall ninety-eight percent accuracy.

Despite your job dictating it as such, Arsené never allowed you to fade into the background or stand around as a fancy accessory to go with his title. Oftentimes, he utilized you as his sole confidant as he worked through evidence and suspects, waiting in revered silence for you to offer your insight (however weak it actually was), and afterwards only let you bask in a glow of confidence through streams of unending praise.

“Egads! Eureka! Genius! How is it that it never occurred to me that way? Truly, you're spectacular! You're divine! Who knows how long I’d be running around in circles if I didn't have you as my partner.” They were all slightly variating compliments, though essentially all the same at the core and all very untrue.

You'd never forgotten about the things your colleagues had said about him, of his unrivaled prowess and veneration as the best detective Watt City had ever come to witness. He didn't need you. He had never needed you to solve a case, so you had learned to take his praise in the same vein as you did the silky-haired woman’s comments on men: uninspired and shallow.

When your disinterest became palpable, he seemed to only rely on you more as though he couldn't stand to be burdened with the idea of a rift. He had started calling you late at night about cases, going as far to come knocking at your door and walking inside reeking of stale smoke and a haze of booze, neither of which you could comprehend as possible considering he had no face.

“I just don't get it. I just don't get it! Where am I going wrong?!” He said so wretchedly, sides of his head cradled in his hands that were tucked between his legs. “This case, it’s getting to me. It's getting under my skin. I can't figure it out. Have I finally met my match? Have I finally been defeated? You! You’ve got to help me. It can't end like this.”

For all his dramatics, there was something obscenely cruel behind his words. Perhaps he thought you wouldn't have caught onto it because you simply a Field Recorder, just a person at the end of the day.

“Why haven't you mentioned anything about the victim? You're acting like they don't exist, Arsené. Is this about solving the crime so they get justice and the family gets closure, or is this for your reputation?” you asked.

He immediately stopped complaining and jolted upright, taken by surprise like he had realized this oversight and wasn't sure how to navigate around it. On that glossy slate of a face, one you knew was piercing deep into you despite a lack of hollow sockets and rolling gelatinous orbs within, you could tell he was now thinking of an answer.

“Neither,” was what he gave you. “It's neither of those. Come here. Sit down and talk to me for a while. I can't go home like this.”

The pitying part of you usually won in those moments where Arsené presented himself as his weakest. There was a part of you that believed he was taking advantage of your feeble heart, your kindness, your blind generosity because at his worst, he'd find a way to strip you down and fuck you.

At least, that's what you assumed happened. You never really could remember as the memory was pitch black, his body was unfathomable above yours, but you were sure you felt his cock penetrating you, his hands desperately fondling your flesh and fat like there was too much to touch yet too little time to feel it all. He said things to you inside your head, words that you couldn’t seem to piece together yet ignited the tension between your legs, lit your skin on fire, and delivered lewd, high-pitched sounds to his ears that he reveled in.

He never left you a mess and he never spoke about those times after they happened. Since you were never sure of them yourself, they suffered the same indifference as his praise and the days simply moved onward in a similar way.

“Another case solved!” Arsené cheered, lifting a stout mug in the air for you to reciprocate with the long stem of your wine glass. It was a fragile tinkling sound, a gentle vibration up your fingers and into your wrist as you toasted his success. “I couldn't have done it without you, my beloved partner! If it's you and I, I could do this forever.”

You swirled the liquid inside; a light and dry, raspberry and vaguely earthy smell wafted up your nostrils before you tasted it and let your cheeks pucker. As you drank, you watched as Arsené lifted the stout towards the expanse of taut, clear skin that should've been his face, and saw liquid inside empty into nowhere.

[doux-amer]

Helena thought she could go undetected if she acted kind, which is frankly patronizing and says volumes about her lack of understanding of Helly and the innies. From what I can tell, she (and Lumon?) only cared to watch the day the innies enacted their OTC plan, so she thought, "Okay, they're all fond of one another, and they have team spirit" and decided to act warm, nice, and collaborative. That must be why they like and trust Helly! Except Helly's more than that.

Helena doesn't care to think of Helly as an actual person, just a role she can slip into, and surely it can't be hard to be her because she is Helly. But Helly is headstrong, inquisitive (and demands that others question things as much as she does), and highly skeptical, and as much as she's kind, she's also quick to sarcastic retorts and teasing. You don't see that on display in season 2. She's soft and she doesn't go off snooping on her own, not caring whether or not anyone follows her. She lets Mark take the initiative on everything. Her hatred towards Lumon is absent; the only time you see her actively dissent is when she laughs over the story about Dieter—and she gets it wrong because the others are confused and a bit uncomfortable before they hesitantly join her in laughter whereas Helly would have been able to say something that would have landed with the others immediately. She doesn't get the group dynamics either. She makes a snow seal for Irving, and her "sympathy" for Irving is cruel and condescending because Helena is cruel. I think part of her wanted to shut Irving down, but she's also clueless enough to genuinely believe she would come off as kind. Gotta be gentle with poor, breakable Irving, guys.

She's incapable of understanding Irving's loss and she underestimates him. She's never been a position like he's been in. He has nothing, his entire belief system that he's been indoctrinated into since birth is a lie that has caused him profound suffering, and he found love so powerful that it transcended everything and made him willing to sacrifice everything. He doesn't have anything to lose. He sees no point in being at work anymore so that means he'll take massive risks and have no fear. She doesn't understand that because she doesn't understand love or loss.

She doesn't actually get what drove the innies to rebel and risk everything for the OTC because of that. One of the first things anyone in Helena's shoes would think when she learned she has to go back to the severed floor is how they would have to come up with a lie. She's quick to see that's necessary when it comes to the gala fiasco because she values the attendees' trust and understands how their support or lack thereof can affect Lumon, but it doesn't cross her mind for the innies until the MDR members ask one another what they saw. Did she really think they wouldn't talk about this? These are people who risked their entire existence just to get a glimpse of the outside world and learn a little about who they are. They'd be eager to talk about everything as mundane as how vast the sky is (which was one of the first comments Dylan made on the ORTBO!) and as intimate as the most minute details about their outies' lives and identities.

Helly herself is the one who got the ball rolling for the plan in the first place because of how much she rebelled. They would expect her to be candid regardless of what she found. Helena seems to forget and find incomprehensible Helly's deep-seated loathing of her and Lumon. Obviously, it's possible that Helly would be afraid of judgment and of losing her team's trust. She was broken when she found out who she was, so full of regret when she recited the break room apology in the bathroom at the gala. But Helly immediately moved into action and knew she had to get the word out there about the unjust treatment of innies. It's not just curiosity motivating her, but a desire for her life and the lives of the other severed employees to be better, for them to be treated as equals. To have freedom and agency.

Regardless of whether Helly would have told the others who she was on the outside or not (and I do believe she would have if not immediately, then very soon after), she would have wanted to destroy Lumon. She already hates Helena and was willing to hurt her and even kill her not only to escape her claustrophobic, prison-like life but also as revenge. She would want to raze Lumon to the ground even more than before after her discovery.

In that sense, I think that's why Irving was highly suspicious of Helena. Sure, there's the "night gardener" comment, but that was just a seed. If it had been Helly and that had just been a terrible lie born out of shame, he would have quickly dismissed it if she acted like Helly. But he continued to observe her and thought she wasn't acting like Helly. Everyone on the team is gung-ho about rebelling, but Helly and Irving were alike because they were driven by a type of anger that set them apart from Mark and Dylan. Mark and Dylan also felt mistreated, but they were driven by curiosity as well. They wanted to know more about themselves and their lives. For Helly and Irving, that was of interest to them too, but it wasn't the priority; they operated from a place of feeling like they had nothing to lose, which is why Helly was the one to provide the spark, the fuel for the fire, and Irving was the one to fan it into a conflagration, to inspire them by declaring, "Let's burn this place to the ground."

Helena doesn't seem to know this. She doesn't try to understand the innies because she doesn't see them as real people, as equals with their own interiority, with deep thoughts and emotions. She just chalks it up to the innies being unhappy, which is right, but it's a superficial interpretation. She doesn't dig into why or try to sympathize, and that leads her to be this weirdly placid version of Helly. One with a complete lack of fire. One who's complacent and just does enough to give a shallow impression of whom she assumes Helly is by reducing her to a handful of traits: curious and kind.

I think she vastly underestimated how important Helly is to the others and ultimately that backfires on her spectacularly. If you love someone, you know them. She's never had someone truly see her except on the severed floor because she's never had love until then and she's never been accepted for who she is and encouraged to be herself. For all her condescension towards the innies and Helly especially, she has limited, childlike knowledge of how complex a person can be and how relationships can work.

[museincarnate]

Llumia would nod in agreement with the Lagomorph's own thoughts on how they'd met, while they all still waited just a bit longer for their food to be made; Tater's inwards thinking causing the Saiyaness to tilt her head slightly, since she couldn't quite figure out what her new friend was thinking about. Regardless, she was happy to have such nice, albeit unexpected company.

Once the Little Rabbit had realized that their food was ready to be picked up, and had gone to retrieve it, the vocalization of the order being theirs had the violet-haired heiress grinning rather excitedly; her familiarity with the food not at all lessening her eagerness to have it, as well as seeing her three new pals try it for the first time. Flapping ears from Tater seemed to be a positive indicator of her thoughts about the skewers, while both Torno and Shuen hummed positively at the overall taste of it, themselves. A soft giggle would escape Llumia, as she would partake of the skewers as well, before turning to lead her friends through the shopping district some more.

While she led them along, though, she couldn't help herself; making a giddy little comment about their reactions to the seafood from Empress Scallia's sect of Saiyans. "Sure sounds like you guys are loving it so far! What'd I say? A lot of people say it's the best seafood any culture of Saiyans have to offer!" Ahead of them, a quaint little trinket shop could be seen, while any shops or stalls in between didn't really seem like they were worth taking a look at, if Llumia's continued walking was anything to go by. Of course, a few sets of eyes would briefly look at Tater and her companions, before returning to wherever they were looking previously.

Once she'd managed to finish whatever she was eating before stopping at the trinket shop, the violet-haired girl would turn to face Tater, Torno and Shuen again; smiling rather sweetly at them, while she let them focus on consuming the food that they'd ordered. "This is the most popular place to get fun little trinkets, if you can afford them. Little emblems, cute little caricatures of notable figures, like m-" She'd stop herself, just as she likely had several thousand times over the course of her life; tensing up at the realization that she'd nearly addressed a certain ruler as her mother. While it was the truth, her illegitimacy as that ruler's child was still a rather controversial matter. "Empress Scallia. Heavens... I almost called her Miss, and not her regal title."

Pain seemed to lace itself into the words of the heiress, as she softly seemed to fidget with one of the little metal caricatures of Scallia; her gaze lowering from their fixated position on Tater and her Saiyan friends for a few moments. There were likely so many questions about their relationship that could be asked, that just weren't.

Llumia seemed equally delighted by the idea of the Lagomorph visiting the planet again, even if it was to try more of the seafood of their culture; a fast fondness for Tater growing within the estranged heiress, as she was the first person to truly give the Saiyaness a name to go by. The briefest of wistful expressions would come and go, on the face of the purple-haired girl, as she quietly wished that she could travel; likely avoiding doing so for reasons that weren't the easiest to convey.

Exchanged glances and smiles would be shared between the Little Rabbit, and everyone she looked at, including the stall owner once Tater was the first to offer the kind facial expression. For the most part, glances aimed towards the Earth Representative weren't ill-meaning, considering few people like Tater were likely visitors to any of the sects.

Once Tater caught wind of Llumia's inquiry, however, the body language of the Lagomorph would almost immediately cause the heiress to quietly sigh; the poor girl feeling as though she'd overstepped a boundary, and was being a touch too nosy, until her newfound friend actually answered her question. Wide eyes, as well as a slightly surprised expression, would find themselves on the visage of the violet-haired Saiyaness, as something of such magnitude wasn't often public knowledge, let alone a happening in the universe. With all of the sects of Saiyans at peace with one another, it was almost unheard of, that something would involve all of them, as well as an outlying party.

"I can't imagine how stressful it must be, but I really hope you find what you're looking for in all of this." A tone of worry lightly worked its way into the words of the estranged heiress, while the group of four still waited for their seafood order to be done; the stall owner working quickly, which left them with not too long of a wait time. Still, she'd offer the sincerest of smiles to the Little Rabbit.

"I wish it was under different circumstances, but I'm glad that we met because of it, at least. If I can be honest with the three of you, getting to meet two of the people I look up to, and having someone name me... They're both the best things to happen to me. Not getting to leave home and travel kind of makes life... Uneventful." Where she should have felt wistful, she instead sounded... Grateful; a giddy tone, as well as one of sheer adoration for the trio being laced into every word.

[witchofhimring]

Disloyalty (Chapter 3)

Book One Masterlist

Synopsis: Your plan to entice Jaecerion in put into action. (Jaecerion x reader officially happening this chapter!)

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Ellyn Baratheon

Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen

Jaecerion Targaryen x Reader

Jason Lannister x Reader (minor)

(more to come!)

Y/n Tyrells Profiles

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, childbirth, emotional turmoil, death, unrequited love?, humiliation by Ellyn Baratheon, marital abuse, marital consummation, misogamy (internalized as well as external), brief depictions of smut, mentions of rape (not to the reader), morally grey reader

'Did you hear about Talia?' They were whispering over needle work. While present, you said absolutely nothing. Suppressing the urge to laugh was a considerable effort. Apparently Talia lost many valuable things in there at was forced to live in a lesser room for the time being. 'Serves her right.' You though.

Your fingers stroked the books worn covers. One would think that the royal library would be better looked after. Like all the other books this one provided little information you desired. Under different circumstances you might have enjoyed its contents. But time was of the essence. Soon you would be packed off to Casterly Rock. Determined not to have a repeat of your past, you had to find a way to stop it. There were few who could gainsay Jason Lannister, but you had just the person in mind. Jaecerion loved you. The only problem lay in whether he would say yes. Last time he asked proposed you were a widow and unattached. These circumstances were different. Well, if he knew. It occurred to you that Jaecerion might not have known ahead of time. Last lifetime Aemond had been unaware, so why should Jaecerion who was his younger?

That problem would need to wait. With more immediate concerns' you needed to focus o those, for now. Ever since the bathing fiasco Ellyn had made herself scarce. In any other situation she would have held her head up high. But to do so in this case may very well be deadly. Some did send their condolences, and in those conversations you mentioned how some of her friends might have known her intentions. Naturally this was all a lie, however it suited you well. No jabs were being made in your direction these days. No one wanted to get entangled in this mess.

Just as you were getting dressed that morning a knock sounded at the door. Answering is, Elinor was handed an letter. Your stomach went cold as you recognized the wax seal. The Tyrell rose, Jenna's symbol. 'Please leave.' Trying to suppress the shake in your voice you dismissed Elinor. 'Is everything well?' She asked. 'Yes. Now go.' You said it more forcefully than necessary. Alone now, you opened the seal.

Lady Y/n,

I heard about the events that took place recently, and can only say I am very shocked. Let us pray that this fiasco settles down. You must lay low for a while, for your future depends on it. Stay out of trouble and listen to the Dowager Queen.

Lady Jenna Tyrell

"Stay out of trouble." You snorted. The letter was burned. Staying out of trouble was hardly an option. Either way was an uphill battle. But this time you intended to will.

The current dilemma you faced was to rid yourself of that guard. Burning Talia's room was only possible because he had been paid of by Cerilla. If another was to take his place it must be your man. Despite being a Tarley you had little money to your name. Whatever was allocated to you for service was not enough to bribe someone. And even if this knight was rid of who was to say that the next was not also in Cerilla's pocket. The only solution was to find out how to prove it. Easier said than done. Cerilla might be in a similar position to yourself, but she had allies you did not and Jenna's wealth.

Wait. Was Jenna even aware of this? It would cost money Cerilla did not have, unless one was passing it to her. Someone who had the backing of House Tyrell. Jenna might be a vile hag but you suspected that spying on you at night was not her way. Given her wealth Jenna would have hired more able hands. No the fumbling efforts of Talia. Yet you could not be entirely sure. But there might be a way to find out.

Cerilla had her plots, you had yours.

Dear Lady Jenna,

I pray this letter finds you in good health. You are very right to say I should be careful, and resolve to do so. But there is something of great importance I must tell you. It concerns Lady Cerilla, the sister of your good-daughter. I fear she may be finding other ways to make money, or is in dept. She wears very fine clothing that would cost a greater sum than that allocated to her by The Crown. Several times I have found her out late at night and am very concerned for her safety. If this is mere fantasy I humbly beg your pardon.

Lady Y/n

Even if Jenna did see through the letter and knew you wanted to get Cerilla in trouble she would still investigate. And if evidence turned up which proved Cerilla was acting without her consent then your animosity to her would pale in comparison. The letter was sealed and sent. You watched as the pageboy carried it away. Hopefully soon the fruits of your results would be clear.

Meanwhile you busied yourself with getting the books out. Soon you would hopefully be moving rooms and you did not want to cause speculation. Now that the letter was sent you needed to focus of Jaecerion, and it had to happen before word got out of your betrothal. If you pressed your suit after the proposal House Lannister may consider than an insult. It must be done before. Now you were at the issue you had to think of when to ask. How should you approach it? Jaecerion had been in and out of The Red Keep.

There was still a life outside of your plots, insignificant as it was. Flora and Lady Lenita came and asked if you would accompany them to visit the Queen. You knew there was no point in visiting her. Helaena was utterly mad and nothing would heal her from losing a child. You still dreamed of Owen. His beautiful little face going off colour and ragged breaths. On those nights you woke up in a cold sweat and could not sleep. In those cases sleep was not an option. Instead you simply stared up at the ceiling, thinking.

You ended up not having to wait very long for Jenna's reaction, and it was everything you hoped for. No longer was anyone at your door. And word got around. 'Did you hear what happened to Cerilla?' Flora leaned over whispering in your ear. All the ladies were sewing in Alicent's tea room. People kept chatter to a quiet lull. Hiding you excitement, you simply said; 'What?' Flora leaned in closer. 'Apparently she ran afoul of her patron Lady Jenna.' 'Why? What did she do?' Flora looked around. 'We do not truly know. Money matters I think.' You tried to hide a smile.

A crumpled up butterfly lay at your feet. Its purple wings fluttered piteously in a vain attempt to rise. Stooping down you gathered it up. With its final dying struggles it desperately tried to escape death. Then it lay still, its feeble finds lightly fluttering in the wind. Looking closer you realized a red liquid oozing from its body. Staining your hands red, blood flooded in rivers down the palms of your hands, far to much for so small a creature. And it poured and poured until all the ground was red and you were drowning in the blood.

The quill scratched over parchment as you wrote everything down. Morning had only just begun, the first rays shooting across the lightening sky. Afterwards the book was hidden and you got dressed for the day. Today you went for something simple. That did not mean you were dressing without thought. The deep green dress presented your shoulders for a man's gaze, a sweeping train behind you. Only a golden necklace adorned you. Looking at yourself in the mirror and feeling satisfied you set out. Jaecerion was back after a short excursion. You wanted to greet him before anyone else did. Remembering the past did you good in cases like these. It also meant you knew that in a few days Jason Lannister would press his suit.

Jaecerion entered kings Landing on a horse, his dragon was too large to be kept within. His silver hair caught in the light and you felt something overcome you. He was beautiful. Muscles moved with each movement, honed by years of military exercise. Not many were in the courtyard this early morning. Due to the war the usual pomp and ceremony performed for the arrival of a prince was forgotten. This suited you well. Ones schemes were best left hidden until they took form. 'Jaecerion.' He saw you and smiled. 'Y/n, it is early.' He took you into his arms. And although the hug was friendly a secret kiss lingered on your cheek. Slightly longer than that between friends. 'Jaecerion, there is something I wish to speak to you about.' Curious, Jaecerion consented. A powerful force seized your belly. It was a combination of excitement and anxiety. Never before had you felt so in control. He looked at you as one looked upon a most precious object. Any which way you could pull him.

'Jaecerion!' Alicent was walking towards the pair of you, flanked by Criston Cole. She looked anxious, a normal condition for Alicent. 'Your Grace.' Sinking into a curtsey you inwardly cursed her. Now you would have to wait, and who knew what would happen between now and later. Who was to say Jason's suit would not be pressed on you sooner. Quickly you were dismissed, Jaecerion being whisked away to a council meeting.

A morning mist had settled over King's Landing. As you could no longer be in Ellyn's services you sat with Alicent's ladies. Today they were all crowded in the queen's rooms. No laughter or music brought harmony to these sorry women. Alicent had never been a merry queen, but grief had settled over all like a blanket. Stepping in you felt their emotions like a physical presence. Men might wage war, but women too felt the pains of battle. For a woman's battle always had to be on the inside. It was a silent war that tore at ones very soul. Sitting beside Flora you felt like you were falling. Suddenly all plots were swept aside. Jaehaerys and Owen's pale little faces peaked out at you from the darkness within your mind. The torches flickering above might as well have not existed. Shadow seemed to close in on every side, threatening to swallow every living person in that room. Not truly there, you absentmindedly stitched the tapestry. Who cared about it anyway.

Food felt stale and fire provided no warmth. Your entire being was absorbed with images of the past dead and vengeance. More nourishing than any early substance the feverish desire that consumed you was like the strongest elixir. Emotions swung between elation and grief. All you could do was wait for night to fall. Keeping your ears open you listened for any mention of a meeting. Hopefully this would not happen, for your plans could be impeded. Already you had a plan in place. You would hide behind the statue of King Jaehaerys near Jaecerion's room. Covered in a black cloak you would hide until Jaecerion arrived. At least that was the plan if Jaecerion was up late. You just had to get through today.

When night descended you did not go to bed. You suspected another guard (or spy) would be there. Just because Cerilla was out of action did not mean Jenna's guard was down. In fact she might have become suspicious of you. If everything worked out it would not matter how Jenna felt. As princess you would be more powerful then all of them. So, hoping that this gamble would pay off, you slipped off as the sun set. A strong wind bartered the keeps stone in a torrent of power. You listened its powerful howls outside. It brought you an element of peace as you waited. Through the window you could see the sun set, casting its orange ray across the darkening sky. Every footstep made you jump slightly and look in anticipation.

How long would he be? Your knees were starting to burn. 'Where are you.' You hissed under your breath. Feeling clammy and cold you dreamed of going to bed. With warm sheets and a nice hot fire in the fire place. Only your conviction was stronger than temporary discomfort. Exhaustion was starting to seep in but you held firm. Shaking hands threatened to loosen on the statue. Strong will was the only thing keeping you from tumbling down.

Then you heard footsteps coming down the hall. Looking over you finally saw him. Jaecerion was alone, thank goodness. Body shaking, you stumbled down from your perch and out into the light. 'Y/n' Jaecerion looked alarmed and you were quickly in his arms. 'Jaecerion.' You murmured. Feeling warm you snuggled up against him. 'I'll take you to my room.' You allowed Jaecerion to take the lead. A guard by his door gave you a look. 'You won't be giving me that look soon enough.' You thought. Jaecerion's room was mercifully warm. You took off the heavy black cloak and allowed the warmth that enveloped you. The dress you wore underneath was a rather plain green one. Yet it had an alluring effect, showing off your back and shoulders. You could feel Jaecerio's eyes on you. Good. 'Why are you out so late?' Jaecerion was only a few feet behind you.

'Its......' Your inability to properly covary the words were a combination of exhaustion and anxiety. You had planned this moment and yet when it came you were here there was nothing to show for it. Jaecerion, sensing your anxiety, took a cold hand in his. 'Y/n, are you alright?' Taking a small step towards him you looked into his eyes. They were beautiful. Your own were starting to burn. 'I'm afraid.' Your voice was small and so, so pathetic. Feeling small you wanted the ground to swallow you up into the darkness. This was not acting. Built up fear you had suppressed for weeks was becoming overwhelming. Physically you could not take it anymore. It was like being severely sick with a cold. You wanted to wail and be sick. There was a strong desire to tear your hair out and howl. Everything had happened so quickly that you wanted nothing more than to lay down and just sob. And it was not even like you could tell Jaecerion the whole tale. No one could now how you had been locked up, lost your son and been killed. Perhaps death was a sweeter end after all.

Suddenly you swayed on the stop. The fires light seemed nearly blinding as Jaecerion caught you in his arms. He was warm and safe. All that time locked up by Jenna had deprived you of human companionship. So absorbed with vengeance, you had not realized just how much you missed the company of others. Tears fell past your eyelids and down trembling cheeks. Jaecerion's strong arms wrapped themselves around you as he knelt on the ground. Fingers carded through your messy hair and Jaecerion soothed you between your shaking gasps. 'Y/n.' He sounded disbelieving and worried. His tone, however worrying it sounded, made a flood of security and tenderness run through you. In those long lonely months there had been no one to hold you like this. Ever since the war had started back in another life you had not known a moments security. All you could remember was death, of slit throats and hanging bodies. But for just a moment your thoughts were only of this warmth.

'Jaecerion.' Your arms wrapped themselves around his neck. Looking up you got lost in his eyes. It had been so long since you had felt so close to someone, and never so intimate. 'I'm afraid.' gently Jaecerion hushed you. 'I swear Ellyn will not harm you.' You looked away.' It is not just her. Everyone seems against me and I do not know what to do.' Leaning into his chest you closed your eyes. 'I do not see how you will be able to protect me, Jaecerion. 'His grip tightened. He took a weak hand in his and pressed it to his lips. You felt the warmth of his youthful lips on you. How good would they feel against yours. 'I swear to you that there is nothing I will not do for your safety.' He took you but the shoulders and you were kneeling in front of him. Face to face with the fire behind him Jaecerion's eyes were wild. His silver hair had the reflecting light behind it with a mesmerizing effect. 'Jaecerion....can you truly promise that?' He nodded, the reaction of a young man who thought strength alone could protect the woman he loved. But you knew better. Taking his pale face in your hands, you said; 'You are a prince and a good man. But I am a mere lady. Ellyn is a princess.' You tried not to spit out the title in a fit of anger and jealousy. Then you were thinking what else to say. He needed to see your way of thinking.

'What would you have me do?' If your were honest, you would have told him to marry you. But that may not work. He had to come to that conclusion on his own. 'I can do away with Ellyn.' Purple eyes went very dark, almost black in this light. A menacing presence issued from him and you marveled that he might be a very dangerous enemy. You had already accepted that Jaecerion killed Ellyn. Her death would serve no purpose to your cause. After your last life you had no wish to be accused of her murder again. 'No, that will be me little good. If anything happens to Ellyn then I will be blamed. I need to find a way to keep me safe, a solution that will keep me out of her clutches. Perhaps I can go to Highgarden. Maybe being out of her way she will forget about me.' 'No!' You barely finished the sentence before Jaecerion protested. He looked desperate and a pang of guilt hit you. But you were close now. You could smell it. Jaecerion stood, pulling you up. Taking you in his arms Jaecerion held you to him. 'Stay with me Y/n.' His voice uncharacteristically shook. Had anyone loved you like this? 'Then what will we do? You are a prince, but I a mere lady.' You did not hide the desperation in your voice.

'May me.' You could hardly believe it. Despite your hopes and planning his words still stunned you. It had actually worked, your plan worked. Swaying on the stop you gripped him tightly. Jaecerion, taking your state deriving from an unplanned outcome. Brushed your hair out of the way. 'If I marry you, I could keep you safe. As my wife you would carry the title of princess and under the crowns direct protection. Ellyn would not be able to harm you, ever.' Jaecerion then got down on one knee. Taking he hand he kissed it reverently, thumb caressing your ring finger. His lips, even after parting, were only a mere inches from your skin. 'If you were to marry me my life would be completely in your keeping. And I would do all to protect you....both of us. And I would love you. Cherish you more than any other.' Even if you had not planned this you would have been won over in a heartbeat. here was this beautiful young man pledging himself to you with a fervor none had shown you before. This plan was one truly mad. For a prince to marry without allowance by his king was dangerous. The woman married to him could face grave consequences. Neither of you cared, you in vengeance and lust, Jaecerion for passion. Now it was your turn to pull him up. And without thinking you kissed him hard. And before the fireplace he made his mark. Afterwards, as Jaecerion lay sleeping, you beside him, the ruby glittered in the firelight.

Notes: This chapter is quite a bit shorter than the rest because I could not find anything else to add. Next chapter will be longer and very interesting👀.

Taglist:

@daenerysqueenofhearts

@le-petit-lulu

@aemondswifeisme

@mandiiblanche

@gknj9495

@minakay

@strangersunghoon

@iilsenewman

@moonlightfoxx

@gknj9495

@heartb8k2

@dahlias-and-marigolds

@dumbhxeredrose

@m-riaa

@sweetsnow88

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@seomta

@sxlsvv

@ninihrtss

[dramaticallytotal]

*pokes your in your head*

Eva headcannons today, queen?

Eva headcannons queen?

Eva Headcanons:

• She's from a town called Sopron originally, which is a city in Hungary on the Austrian border. She loved it there, but her father's job offered him a better paying position in Canada, which is why they moved. Eva was sad but also she didn't have many friends so saying goodbye wasn't hard for her in school. It was saying goodbye to her grandparents and cousins that got to her.

• She moved to Canada when she was six.

• Her mother's name is Renata Doman, and her father's name is Antal Doman

• To help her make friends, her mom enrolled her in many clubs and activities. One being gymnastics and another being the Girl Guides of Canada.

• She excelled at activities in the Girl Guides of Canada but had some troubles when it came to being social and the selling of the cookies.

• She was bullied when she was younger, and it really got to her. But it was when she saw her parents getting bullied by their then neighbors that she got angry. She didn't know what to do with all the anger and sadness, but she found dedicating herself to her gymnastics and begging to be put in MMA.

• She quit Girl Guides of Canada but still has a love for the organization in her heart and often buys many boxes of cookies when she can to send to local charities/homeless shelters

• The first time her anger got the best of her was when a neighbor started yelling at her dad, and her dad tried to resolve whatever issue the neighbor had. Then the neighbor swung at her dad, and that was that. She immediately punched the guy in the crotch and flipped him. They never had problems with that neighbor after that, but some nasty rumors about her started floating around, and eventually, she got in so many fights that her family had to move or so she believed.

She felt so bad that she completely broke down, and her parents told her that while they preferred, she didn't fight people they appreciated her protecting them. They moved because of the neighbors themselves and how many were willing to fight their ten year old. Or just provoke her, which didn't sit right with them. Plus, they were tired of the neighborhood.

• She's decided to try harder to make friends because she didn't want to worry her parents, so she tried out for a lot of sports since she had to transfer schools due to them moving to a different neighborhood. One that was closer to her father's building. (He told this to Eva so she wouldn't feel bad about the move. It was true, but the new neighborhood was a bit pricy, and he wasn't making that much money just yet, so Eva's mom had to get another job on top of her usual job of housekeeping until she could secure a job as a nurse. Which she did about two years after their move.)

• Eva was recruited as a stunt worker when she was 12! And it was completely by accident. She was at her gymnastics gym practicing in a designated corner, seeing as some film company wanted to borrow their equipment to practice a stunt. The owner of the building agreed so Eva and the other members of the gym had a designated part in the gym to practice in.

• Eva had watched intently at the stunt they were trying to get this girl her age to do over and over again. She had watched as who could only be the stunt coordinator, demonstrate once more what the stunt had to look like before a break was called. It was hard not to hear this woman who looked like the girl's mom yelling at someone who looked important about the stunt being too dangerous for her baby. The important person yelled back that maybe she shouldn't have lied about the daughters supposed stunt skills on her audition sheet.

• Eva got bored of the drama and decided to try the stunt herself she had a pretty good understanding of it. Little did she know that the stunt coordinator had seen her. She was immediately asked/demanded to do it again, so she did. The important person turned out to be the director of the film, and before she knew it, Eva was hired to do the stunt work for the little girl since they looked similar enough.

• Eva only took the role and begged her parents to let her so she could help with money. From there, she had an agent and occasionally stared in action films as a stunt double.

• Her mother always made sure it never interfered with her schooling, though.

• Eva has been on almost every sports team at her school. From basketball, to rugby, to field hockey, to volleyball, etc.

• She actually adores cute or "girly" things, but she has trouble expressing it as she feels like it goes against her usual image. Also, because those things are sometimes sadly seen as weak and she doesn't want to give anyone the impression she is weak. She cultivated her strong image, and as much as she loves cute and girly things, she doesn't want to damage her image.

• Eva honestly didn't think she had an anger problem until she watched herself back on Total Drama Island. Neither had her parents until then, too. It took Eva admitting she felt like she was always angry or waiting to be angry that had her parents enroll her in anger management classes and therapy.

• The anger is definitely because to her, it's better to be angry than hurt by her other emotions. To her, if she's not angry, she or those she loves can be easily hurt. And yeah, it does stem from her being severely bullied when she was younger and witnessing her parents being bullied and discriminated against.

• She doesn't express it often, but she's grateful for TD because she made actual friends there in Noah and Izzy. She didn't have friends before the show and she thought she was fine, never having friends. That was until she found Izzy, Noah, and eventually Owen.

• She had her first sleepover after Action. It was better than she had imagined. It was at Noah's house, and to her surprise, Noah's mom, Abbi, made fast friends with her mom and dad. Turns out they lived in the same city, which made it easy for them to have family dinner.

• Yeah, family dinner! Abbi basically adopted them, and now Noah's nieces and nephews called her Auntie Eva, and all his sisters called her Baby Sis. Eva could admit it made her bust in tears. She didn't know how much it would mean to her nor to her parents. She had never seen her mom cry so much, not even from what she could remember when they left Sopron.

• Even Abbi's sisters and brother refer to her as their new niece. It's nice...actually it's wonderful.

• No surprise, but her favorite movies are action films.

• Her favorite food is called Hideg meggyleves, which is a cherry soup that is served cold and sweet.

• Eva does have a sweet tooth. But she limits herself with how many sweets she can have.

• She loves animals but gets sad because many don't like it when she approaches because she scares them. Nana loved her, though, and she would die for the golden lab.

Here's just a little!

[gohyemi]

his miss butterfly

" Wonwoo ah~" Y/N skipped happily toward him. He smiled and opened his arms for her. She ran into his embrace and hugged him tightly. They both laughed and enjoyed the moment. Well, that is what she imagined, though.

————

"Oh Lord, not again..."Wonwoo mumbled. Beside him, Mingyu let out a small chuckle and patted his back. Wonwoo shook his head. Her head was already pounding, thinking what kind of shenanigans she had today. 

"What a lovely girl you have... I'll see you in the gym this evening, bro." Then he left his bestfriend alone with Y/N.

"Lovely, my foot" Taehyung smiled sarcastically, but it faded as he looked at Y/n. He knew what was coming and wasn't ready for it. He took a deep breath and braced himself for the conversation to come.

She grins sheepishly, "I was asked by my mother to give you this," she showed a small box of cookies, "but I wanted to make special cookies for you, not her hand-made..." and continued. She opened the box to show the homemade cookies she had made. "I hope you-.”

"Thanks." He didn't even let her end her speech about the cookies. He fastly make his way to his class leaving her there.

Y/n is always happy, always making the whole school feel like there's a floating flower everywhere, a positive-thinking and smart girl, too. But Wonwoo believes she's just another annoying girl who gives him a headache and suddenly enters his quiet and peaceful world. He immediately disliked her when they first met and tried to keep his distance. But no matter how hard he tried, Y/n always found a way to him. 

In the end, Wonwoo couldn't help but admit she did have a special charm. Also, thanks to his father, Y/n is his fiance. This is despite their father being a best friend since college, living as a neighbor, a window mate, and now a fiance. Yes, typical childhood lover. 

Wonwoo just could not reject his father's proposal to be her fiance. Since they were children, Wonwoo was never close to her. He always does his best to avoid her, but living next door just makes it impossible for him to do so. Especially when their window face each other.

"It's choco chip, your favorite!" she shouted, making most of the people in the hall stop for a second to look at them both, seeing that Wonwoo had fastened his pace to avoid the crowd. Wonwoo blushed and smiled, but he quickly hid it, not wanting anyone to see it. As time goes by, Wonwoo starts to like her stubbornness and the effort she makes to have his attention. He doesn’t know why at first he was disgust by the fluttering feels he got but eventually he use to it.

" Crazy girl," Wonwoo muttered.

Y/n smiled fell for a moment after he already out of sight. As always, she tried to win his heart, but he never opened up. If he doesn't like her, why? She sometimes questions why he agreed to the engagement. Y/n has liked Wonwoo since their family moved. Being his neighbor, Wonwoo doesn't enjoy making friends with anyone, especially with the girls, except for Mingyu. Mingyu is an introvert collector kind of person, ends up being his best friend.

" Did you already give up?" someone asked from behind. Y/n turned around to see her best friend, Hana, standing there. Instantly, her smile returned.

She grinned eagerly. "Hell, I'm not!"

"Good, I want you to be my sister-in-law, and nobody can change that", Hana stated. And yes, she's Wonwoo's sister, twin sister.

---------------------

-nighttime-

"Seriously, bro, I can't stand her anymore; she just- too much", Wonwoo whined on the phone call, laying down on his bed with his small towel hanging on his neck.

“Then why have you agreed to be her future husband, Wonwoo shii~" Mingyu replied,

" I-I don't know" He shifted to lay on his side, his gaze thrown to his bedside table where the box of cookies she blabbered excitedly about this morning. Slowly, he got up from his bed to grab that box. She decorated it with blue ribbon along with a sticky note that read, 'hope this makes your tummy tickle’.

Her actions sometimes made his day. He opened the box and saw the stars-shaped cookies, his favorite shape. He smiled and felt warmth in his heart.

"Bittery, maybe you feel disturbed because you look at her like all those girls out there. Maybe opening up a bit, give the key to that locked heart and let her enter it. She knows the limit. Don't you worry; I believe after that it will make you feel tickled by those butterflies she sent," Mingyu advised.

Wonwoo look at the sticky note hearing Mingyu

Wonwoo walked to his curtain and opened it a little to peek outside, and there is his view, Y/n. He sees her trying to grab the book on her shelf that she placed higher than she was able to reach. 

‘Why would she place it there if she can’t reach it?’ he mumbled

 A few books fell after she stepped on the wrong side, hitting her head. Wonwoo let out a small snort, entertained by her clumsiness. "Stupid," he whispered.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?" shouted Mingyu.

"Not you, stupid."

Wonwoo reconsidered his best friend's words. Sometimes, he felt a little butterfly looking at her, but he quickly said it was just a disgusting feeling. “Whatever, back to the topic. She's a nice girl, Bittery. I can guarantee you she can make you the happiest guy after this," said Mingyu.

Y/n seems to notice some light on the other side of her window. She looked outside and saw Wonwoo standing there, seemingly having a conversation over the phone but looking at her. Despite the butterflies in her stomach, her heart was racing, and she raised her hand triumphantly, waving at him with her usual smile.

Likewise, Wonwoo feels again those tingling caused by her action, and his body starts feeling the same way he described before, disgusted but somehow good. He let out a big sigh.

“Well, Mingyu, I think you're right. Maybe I should give it a try. Talk to you later" 

“Wait wha-” Before Mingyu could respond, He hung up. Wonwoo still maintained eye contact with her. He cautiously and slowly waves back to her.

"Oh my god..." Y/n cupped his mouth and gasped. His action just now was the first time in her life that she had seen such a thing. It never Wonwoo to respond to anything that she do, not even when she spill the drink onto him that one day. But now is just different that making her feel overwhelmed.

She didn't even realize her tears had started falling. Wonwoo saw it and started to panic. He signaled from afar, asking if she was all right. But she abruptly closed her curtain, feeling embarrassed at the time, and she quickly took out her phone to message him. "I'm okay. That book hit my head and hurt my head a bit; I hope it's not going to bleed.” Along with emoji thumbs up.

Wonwoo looked at his phone notification that came from her. After he read the message, he noticed Y/n sticking out only her hand from the window showing a thumbs up.

He let out a sigh and chuckled. "Oh boy, I hope this was a smart decision." He felt that this was going to be a roller-coaster ride, but at least he was going to try. Maybe accepting her future wife will not be a bad decision at all

[rvmanoffbarnes]

Steal my girl || (Eddie Munson x reader x Bob Floyd) Crossover.

Summary: It was impossible not to fall for the charms of the sweet and kind Y/N. Eddie and Bob knew that very well. And they would do anything to win her heart.

《tags: fluff, angst, Bob being a sweetheart, Eddie being an idiot, physical fight》

This is dedidacted to @hahahafucku 🌟💌

As soon as I read the idea you asked me for, I got excited and had to start writing it right away. Joseph and Lewis are my favorites, and it would be interesting to see them interact in a movie or project.....maybe Avengers: Doomsday???

So here you go.... i hope you like it!!!

The bar was packed that Friday night. Y/N went from one place to another to take people's drink orders, then clean the bar table and repeat this process. Over and over again. It was exhausted, but she needed the money to pay the rent for the place she called home.

The sound of people talking was camouflaged by the band that was playing on the bar's small stage. Corrored Coffin. They used to play on the weekends and a lot of people went to see them. Y/N stayed out of it, since the job required that her attention be on the clients and that no fights form between them. However, as soon as she met Eddie Munson, she had to divide her attention so she could see him play from time to time.

Y/N looks up from the bar and notices how Eddie plays the guitar with dedication and seems to enjoy it every time. She smiles as soon as she notices how Eddie searches the audience for someone's gaze, and when he finds it he winks, causing the girl who was ordering the glasses to let out a giggle. It was unbelievable how Eddie managed to make the girl feel shy with just one look.

He was so carefree but that didn't mean he didn't take things seriously. His outgoing personality and confidence made the girl feel attracted. Well, that and Eddie's flirting with her.

The first time Eddie came to the bar, they hadn't met. He was so worried about not forgetting the chords that he barely had time to see the girl who was attentively observing the group. Also, after the performance some girls offered him a drink, and like a gentleman, Eddie couldn't say no. After that night, it became a habit for him to play at the bar, have a few drinks, flirt with some girls—and on some occasions, have more fun with them than he should—and go home smiling from ear to ear.

It wasn't until one night when a client got in over his head with the girl who always treated everyone with respect and sweetness, that he found himself in the position to intervene. Eddie didn't hesitate to hit the man who disrespected Y/N on the chin. He knew it could damage his reputation with the bar boss who had offered him and his band the job. But as soon as he looked at her tender smile, it was all worth it.

From that day on, Eddie never left her side. And as the days passed, he fell for the girl's charms. Eddie knew he couldn't hurt her, she was so perfect and he was so.... Eddie. So he only flirted with her as friends and didn't cross the line, even though inside he was dying to call her his girlfriend.

While the band thanked the audience for their good reception at the bar, Y/N was in charge of preparing drinks for the members.

"Thank you very much for listening to us tonight" Eddie thanks into the microphone "We promise it won't be the last time. Good night"

The people applaud and Eddie begins to put the guitar aside, then jumps off the stage and walks among the bodies receiving congratulations until he reaches the bar, where the girl is waiting for him.

"How's my number one fan doing?" Eddie sits on the little stool. He smiles sideways and his flirtatious expression appears in seconds when he is in front of her.

Y/N smiles and hands him his drink.

"Very good. Especially now that I have your attention; every fan's desire," she jokes, letting out a giggle. Eddie likes that sound of hers.

"Obviously you get special treatment" Eddie says grabbing the glass of beer.

She raises an eyebrow at the game between them. "Oh yeah?"

"Of course. I have to say it so you can keep giving me and the boys free beers," he jokes and she playfully slaps his arm.

"Get a room," says Gareth, reaching next to the curly-haired man.

“Hello Gareth,” Y/N greets, handing him her glass.

"Y/N. Will you guys just fucking admit that you're secretly dating?" Eddie hits the back of his head.

"More respect. There is a lady present" Y/N shakes her head in amusement, but feeling shy all of the sudden. The question lingers in the air.

Jeff arrives at the bar and she hands him her glass, to which he thanks her.

"You guys are incredible," she mentions. She walks away from the bar and Eddie frowns slightly.

"Where are you going?" He follows her with his eyes like a lost puppy.

"I have to serve the table over there" she points and Eddie realizes that it is the flight pilots' table "But i'm going to finish my shift after this table. I'll be back"

He takes her hand before she continues and she looks at him.

"Promise?"

"I promise, Munson."

Don't misunderstand him. There was nothing wrong with Y/N ​​doing her job. Not at all.

But he knew who was at that table.

The boy with glasses who seemed to get nervous every time Y/N approached the table, while his friends teased him until the tips of his ears turned red. Eddie frowned slightly as he stood erect as the girl—his girl in his imagination—came with a smile to serve them. To the boy who always clumsily tried to conquer her as best he could, although he always became a sea of ​​nerves. The boy who always offered to help her clean the tables when she was about to close. The boy who kept looking at her as if she were hanging the stars in the sky.... Eddie agreed with him on that.

That boy's name was Bob Floyd.

Bob was nervous.

It was the fifth time he had come this month and he had never managed to keep up the conversation with Y/N. His nerves got the best of him as the girl smiled at him when asking for her order, although by now she already knew it by heart: peanuts and a beer. His friends made fun of sweet Bob who could barely keep his gaze on her for more than 5 seconds. He was already tired of being a spectator of her beauty and charm, so tonight he would try to make a move.

He would ask her how her night was.

Jake is the first to elbow his arm to alert Bob of her arrival at their table. He stands up straight and a sideways smile spreads across his face, adjusting his glasses.

"Hey guys. How have you been?" she asks with a smile.

The boys knew about Bob's crush on the girl, so they never tried to flirt with her out of respect for him. Maybe the first time they came to the bar they made comments to the girl that made her blush, but seeing Bob's frozen state when he saw the girl, they decided to stop. They had never seen him that way, despite his innate shyness with girls. This time was different for him.

“Hey Y/N, did you miss us?” Bradley asks with an amused tone.

She nods her head, humoring him.

"The place doesn't feel the same without you here" she jokes.

"Ow, she misses us. We need to come more often," Jake mentions. He turns to look at Bob who is trying to work up the courage to finally talk to him. The blonde decides to help him "Right, Bob?"

Bob feels in the spotlight, so he shakes his head to affirm it.

"Yeah, yeah. We should come back here more often. Absolutely," he says hurriedly. She smiles tenderly at him "Hello Y/N."

"Hi, Bob"

The others look at each other and shake their heads. Bradley motions to leave them alone.

"Oh, look the pool table is free" he starts to stand up.

"Oh, come on. I haven't played a game in a while," Phoenix points out.

Bob becomes alarmed suddenly.

"Y/N, do you mind if we play while you bring us drinks? I'm sure Bob can help you and chat with you for a bit," Jake mentions, winking at the one who turns red.

"It's okay. No problem," she says and then looks at Bob. "You don't have to help me, I can bring them in a moment. It's my job after all."

Bob swallows and shakes his head, immediately getting up from his seat.

"I would love to be with you," he widens his eyes at the error of his words. "I mean... I would love to be with you... to help you with the drinks. Yeah, that..."

Y/N laughs and bites her cheek seeing how he gets. "I would love for you to help me. Come with me".

He follows her like his life depends on it. Y/N stops at the bar and begins to prepare the glasses with Bob watching her from across the counter. Eddie is just a few steps away from them, carefully observing the scene before his eyes.

“How was your night, Y/N?” he dares to ask.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. The good thing is that I haven't come across any idiots who want to take advantage or any liquid of strange origin that I have to clean up," she jokes with the last bit. Bob laughs with her.

"If someone is bothering you... I can take care of them" Bob says adjusting his glasses.

"I know, Bobby. I'm counting on you for it," she admits.

Y/N was confused by those little actions Bob did for her. She thought the boy in the uniform and brown hair was handsome and sweet. She could see how difficult it was for him to leave his comfort zone, but she still found him charming. Sometimes the girl was confused by his presence, but at the end of the day she always thought back to the boy with the unruly curls a couple of meters near them. Eddie Munson. Y/N was trying to stay out of the situation, because she was suspecting that Bob might have feelings for her. She didn't want to cause him any confusion or wrong idea that could hurt him, if she wasn't already clear with her own feelings for both boys.

“Y/N?” Bob asks her.

She looks up as she finishes with the glasses.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Bob. What's up?"

Before he can ask the question, a guy vomits on the ground a few feet away from them. Y/N makes a face and excuses herself to him to go clean up the mess, but not before telling him that the beers are ready for him and his group of friends. Bob sighs and begins to take the beer mugs as best he can.

"Hey" Bob turns to see a boy with curly hair come to his side. He adjusts his glasses.

"Hey"

"Is your name Bob?" He nods.

"Yes. And you are...?"

"Someone asking you what your intentions are with Y/N." Bob frowns and is surprised by the boy's behavior.

He had seen him a couple of times playing with his band and talking to Y/N.

"Sorry. I don't understand you," Bob tells him.

Eddie just laughs and raises his hands.

"I'm just asking, buddy," he mentions, "Y/N is my friend and I don't want anyone to hurt her. That's all."

Bob is not intimidated by him and clears his throat. "The last thing I want is to hurt her," Bob finishes before leaving with his beer mugs.

Eddie watches him leave, an uncomfortable feeling invading his being.

Y/N finishes her shift and prepares to join Eddie. She had promised him that she would return to him as soon as her shift was over. She applies lip balm and fixes her hair a little, hoping he'll make a move to let her know if he feels the same way. Some clue or indication that would help her understand that. She felt the tension between them, but she didn't want to get crazy ideas if it didn't turn out to be what she thought it was.

In the books she used to read, it always turned out that the boy flirtatiously teasing the girl was because he felt things. Y/N wanted to check it out that night. When she came out of the bathroom, she looked for Eddie. She smiled to herself as she approached the boy in the leather jacket, but seeing him chatting with a girl and as he held her waist with his arm, the girl stopped a few steps away from him.

Y/N puts her lips in a straight line and doesn't know whether or not to touch his shoulder to let him know she's ready. Eddie senses her presence and turns his body, but without letting go of the girl from his waist.

"Oh, hello. Everything okay?" Eddie asks almost nonchalantly. Y/N nods her head and smiles shyly.

"Yes, I just wanted to let you know that my shift is over" she explains, playing with her fingers.

Eddie opens his eyes feigning surprise.

"Oh, right. You see we were going to get together when you finished" he says and Y/N glances sideways at the girl who caresses the boy's disheveled hair "Would you mind letting me cancel it? I just met Rachel and we're enjoying it"

"Rebeca" the girl corrects.

"Rebeca" Eddie clarifies "I'm sorry"

Y/N feels a weight on her heart and tries to camouflage it with a small, heartless laugh. Eddie looks different, like he's not himself, which leaves the girl confused.

"Um... yeah, totally" Y/N feels her voice break for a moment.

"I'll leave you to continue having fun. See you around, Eddie." She turns on her heel and walks away from both of them as quickly as possible. Eddie notices how her gaze falls and he hates himself for it.

That stupid jealousy he felt made him do stupid things.

On the other hand, Y/N walks past the pilots' table, being watched by most of them, especially Bob. Who never took his eyes off her and witnessed how the girl who frequently invaded her thoughts was hurt by the boy with whom he had exchanged words a few moments ago. The boy with glasses clenches his jaw and rushes to follow the girl of his dreams.

Y/N leaves the bar and takes a deep breath as she walks away from the noise. She doesn't want anyone to see her cry, the mere fact of crying in public embarrasses her, so she goes to an area where the light can't find her. Except, Bob catches up with her.

“Y/N” Bob says as the girl turns her back to him. She hurries to dry her tears and lets out a small laugh, without turning around.

"Bob, what are you doing here?" she asks.

"Y/N. Look at me" he asks her.

"I'm fine, it's just that... the conditioning was almost on maximum and it gave me a cold" she lies.

“Y/N,” he says, his tone more firm.

She swallows and slowly turns around to look at him. Bob frowns slightly when he sees her in that state, he doesn't like it.

"I'm fine," she lies.

Bob shakes his head and hugs her in his arms. She lets herself be hugged and cries. She hides her face in the boy's chest and tries to prevent her tears from wetting his uniform. Bob strokes her hair in a gentle movement, while his other hand hugs her from behind. He didn't expect his night and his attempt to get closer to her to end like this. He had never seen her cry, and he hated that she did. Especially since a curly boy turns out to be the cause of it.

"I'm here. Cry all you need to cry, darling" he rocks her in his arms.

"But I'll wet your uniform," she laughs lightly.

He imitates her, but he doesn't really care.

"It's the least I could care about right now," he pulls away from her and cups her cheek, wiping away the trail of her tears with his thumb.

She sniffles and lowers her gaze. Bob lifts her chin and combs a strand of hair that falls across her forehead.

"You still look pretty" She smiles slightly. Their moment is interrupted by a boy's voice. Eddie Munson.

"Leave her. Now" Bob turns around and puts Y/N behind his body.

Suddenly, his companions and the members of Eddie's band chase him. Eddie stands at the height of the brunette blonde and tenses his jaw.

"You should go. She doesn't need any more trouble from you," Bob says firmly.

"Guys..." Y/N tries to say.

"I see what you're doing. You're trying to play the hero so she can finally see you through different eyes." Eddie scoffs. "Face it, Bob. That's not going to happen while I'm here."

Bob laughs unamusedly. His companions try to stop him, but he does not allow himself to be intimidated. Not now.

"Yeah, right. Meanwhile you give her false hope and flirt with another girl, leaving her crying." Bob intervenes. "You should focus on what you do instead. Because, honestly, you'll only hurt her."

Eddie can't take it anymore and throws the first blow. Bob receives it, but does not stop and fights back. Y/N tries to separate them with the help of the others.

"Guys, stop it!" The girl exclaims.

Jeff and Gareth take it upon themselves to separate Eddie and arrest him. Jake holds Bob so that the fight does not continue and does not escalate, while the girl proceeds to intertwine their fingers to make him stop. Y/N feels guilty and all she wants to do is run away from there. Eddie's breathing is labored by the adrenaline of the moment and his gaze falls to Bob and Y/N's intertwined hands. He feels his chest tighten and looks back at Y/N, who looks at him with disappointment.

“Y/N, I…” Eddie begins.

She shakes her head.

"Save it, Eddie. I can't go on with this," he admits, and feels the verbal vomit coming.

"I don't want you to get hurt," Eddie says.

She lets out a humorless laugh. "But you can do it, right?" She fights back

"It's my problem if I get hurt. I'm a grown woman and if I screw up, fine, I learn from it."

"Don't screw it up with him, then," Eddie admits. He wants to confess what he feels, but that little voice in his head prevents him from doing so.

She shakes her head, puzzled.

"It's true that we both have that flirting game. But I've always given you to understand that I have feelings for you," she admits and Bob next to her lowers his gaze.

"Unlike you, who confuse me with your dates and the trouble you get into with the girls you meet at the bar." The rest remain silent and not knowing whether to intervene or not. "Yes, maybe I'm attracted to Bob too. But I've always stayed away so in that way i don't hurt him or you."

Y/N lets out a sigh and bites her bottom lip. "I can't stay here," she says and lets go of Bob's hand to walk away from the place. Leaving Eddie deep in thought and Bob trailing behind her.

It's been a week since the incident outside the bar. She talked to her boss to see if she could use her days off and stay out of the bar for a while until she cleared her head. He understood her and accepted her without reproach. Y/N was sitting on the porch of her house looking at the starry night. Her emotions were getting the better of her, so she needed a way to distract herself.

Eddie had called her, texted her, and tried to visit, but she wasn't ready to face him, even though she knew she would have to at some point. Not now.

Suddenly he sees a car approaching and frowns because he can't see who it is. The car stops and the brunette gets out, adjusting his glasses in the process. She gets up and watches as he approaches slowly but surely.

“Hello,” Bob greets.

"Hey," she frowns when she sees him approaching.

"How did you know where I live?"

"Clark"

Her boss gave him the address.

She laughs softly and looks down, holding the blanket over her shoulders.

“Bob, I…”

“Y/N, I like you,” he admits. And before she can answer him, he continues, "I know it's a bad time to tell you after everything that happened, but I needed to confess. I've liked you ever since you helped me clean up the mess I made with the peanuts that night at the bar." She remains silent, waiting for him to continue. "You captivated me when you were the first girl who remembered my name every time I went out with the boys somewhere" he adds "But I fell in love with you when I knew I didn't want to stop seeing you. When every time I asked the boys when we would be back to the bar, because you were the only thing that motivated me to go. Just to see you."

Y/N sighs and smiles while her eyes watered.

"I couldn't keep it to myself anymore, I needed you to know, even though I know now is not a good time" Bob says "I'm not expecting you to feel the same, but if that's the case, only if that's the case... I can wait whatever it takes for me to have the honor of calling you mine."

She bites her lip, feeling her heart race.

"The last thing I want to do is put pressure on you so..." Bob is interrupted by her lips.

Bob can swear he's going to melt when he feels her soft lips on his. He hugs her with his arms around her waist and she clings to his jacket, feeling the blanket fall at her feet. They're suddenly out of breath, so Y/N pulls away with a smile on her face. Bob pouts and chases after her lips, but she stops him.

"I like you too, Bob," she admits. He smiles "I would like to try it with you. But slowly, so we can enjoy every moment of this"

He nods quickly.

"As you wish, darling." She laughs shyly.

Bob purses her lips into a pout. "For now, can we continue kissing for a little while longer, if that's okay?" he says into her lips, closing the distance.

"Of course"

They both kiss while the stars witness the beginning of this love story.

Hey! I hope you enjoyed it.

Honestly, this was one of my favorites one shots so far. I love Lewis as Bob and Joseph as Eddie, so when you ask this request I started writing it right away.

Eddie was a little mean here, but we all know he's a sweetheart.

If you like it, tell me what u think in the comments.

Thank you <3333

[thecaduceusclay]

Alright, I’ll bite. Devil’s Minion in both the book and the show feels very connected to the AIDS crisis… but I’ve only ever acquired knowledge about that period through osmosis, so I’m curious if you have any thoughts/connections or information. 👀

I put out a call for people to ask me fandom-related queer history questions since I know a lot! I want to remind people this is open and that I welcome any fandom questions about queer history!

Ok this is going to get long because I have a lot of feelings on this topic especially. For those who just want some resources, further reading, and my sources, you can find those at the end. I'll pepper some links in, but I'll try to put the bulk of it there. But Daniel Molloy in the show especially is a man heavily impacted by the history of the AIDS crisis and I have a lot to say about that. I'm also assuming a knowledge of what HIV and AIDS are in the first place. You can do some quick reading here.

First, a note on the books since I mostly want to talk about the show. Queen of the Damned was published in 1988 when the AIDS crisis was in full swing. The peak of deaths was in 1993, but 1988 wasn't exactly early in it. The previous year saw the start of the AIDS memorial quilt, the founding of ACT UP (we'll talk about them later 💜), and Princess Diana publicly shaking the hand of an HIV positive patient. The shadow is cast over the culture, Anne Rice was not immune to the zeitgeist. Hell, she was living in the Castro district at the time and that is a notably queer area. (Her son Christopher talks about that briefly here.) I don't this the parallels are an accident. Armand is a man watching his lover slowly waste away while he can do nothing about it. Sure, it isn't AIDS, it's the alcohol and lack of care to his body. Sure, Armand could turn him. But despite their fun and their arguments being such a focus, that helplessness and fear permeates their relationship in the Devil's Minion chapter. Like so many gay men at the time, Daniel is wasting away. Armand is tormented by this. That is one of the most prominent faces of queer men at this time!

Daniel in the show has more going on in relation to the crisis.

I'll start by saying this in case it needs asserted, Daniel is a leftist journalist. And I don't mean in a casual liberal way. He's clearly passionate and involved and these things matter to him. He makes flippant and offensive comments in the interview sure, but I'm not saying he's perfect. His books give this away. He wrote about environmental issues in Under the Burning Sky, the prison industrial complex in The United States of Prison and Profit, and seemingly the surveillance state in Homelandia and likely in his book on Snowden. I'd also like to gesture to his work with "the barb". The Berkeley Barb was a leftist underground student paper. I'd recommend taking a look at their archives linked here and their website to get a grasp for what he was writing with at the time. (Warning, the archives are often NSFW). But in short the barb's attitude was largely anti-war, sex-positive, fuck the establishment kind of writing. He was already like this when he ran into Louis in '73. This will inform our view of him moving forward and will be our framework for understanding how he interfaced with the AIDS crisis.

I think it's important to note Daniel's proximity to AIDS too. I mean, subtextually, he had a brush with it when Louis nearly killed him in '73. Louis was a silent killer sweeping through the queer men of San Fran. Gay men were likely seeing lovers and friends disappear after going home with a stranger. Risky sex and drug use leading to a death going unacknowledged, one that's largely impacting gay men? I think the subtext of it is queer-- I mean clear. (Louis is not an all around metaphor for AIDS, but the ties between it and vampirism in the series seem clear, and in this instance the connection is there specifically for Louis, no one come for my ass).

Speaking of, the proximity is there in his behaviors too. He's a drug user who goes home with random men. (Casual sex was a big part of gay culture back then, see the hanky code and cruising for this.) Both of these actions put him at high risk of contracting HIV and put him among populations more likely to contract it. He was using heroin, and needle sharing is a huge risk factor in the spread of bloodborne illnesses, which can lead to the spread of HIV (which is why needle exchanges are so important.)

Finally for incidental proximity early on, Daniel was living in San Francisco. We know he frequented Polynesian Mary's at least, and possibly other gay bars. He also likely lived near or in the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood (given his memoir being called Hate and Ashbury). This area is very notably queer, historically. By 1990 HIV was the leading cause of death for young men in San Francisco at 61%. That's frighteningly high, and sure this was much later, but San Francisco was an epicenter.

AIDS was first identified in 1981 as a spread of Karposi Sarcoma and PCP (or "gay pneumonia" colloquially) in gay men in areas like New York, Los Angeles, and San Francisco. The first KS patient to go public (Bobbi Campbell) was in San Fran. He later wrote the first pamphlet on "safer sex". The first KS clinic was opened here, and later the first dedicated AIDS clinic (which Daniel seems to have written an article about according to his LinkedIn). By 1982 this epidemic was known as GRID, or Gay Related Immuno-Deficiency. (Interesting parallel that s1 notes Daniel as having an auto-immune disease, which Parkinson's is not primarily known as...). Daniel was covering these early years. His book A Shadow on the Skin was about this! It was a collection of articles he wrote on KS in the early years as he documented it becoming the AIDS crisis! He was routinely writing about the early epidemic. (s/o to @cbrownjc for this post where I found the blurb on the back of the book).

So, while living in San Francisco, this deeply politically involved young man was watching the early crisis unfold. He saw gay men dying slowly. Some gay men at the time described watching the AIDS crisis sweep through as watching their cities become ghost towns. This was something terrifying, something haunting, and something attributed largely to queer men. I mean, it was called GRID until 1982/1983. It wasn't until Ryan White, a 13 year old boy, contracted HIV from a blood transfusion in 1984 that people began seeing it as anything but just a gay disease. Even then, public perception didn't change quickly. It was so heavily associated with gay men, even, that getting national medical authorities to recognize women could contract it and treat it in women was a struggle.

All of this horror was occurring and the government ignored it. When they didn't ignore it? Ronald Reagan, then president, laughed at it. Hospitals were terrified of gay men, some refused to touch or treat AIDS patients. The FDA and CDC were slow to respond and to treat it.

In season one, Daniel is dismissive of his own queerness. He shrugs off his being in gay bars and hooking up with men, acts like it wasn't a big deal and it was just to score. I think this dismissive attitude likely stems from the AIDS crisis, at least in part. Lingering trauma from Louis' attack in '73 may play a role, after all, the body keeps the score. But I don't think we can overlook AIDS as a factor. The writers clearly didn't overlook it in his characterization, as exemplified above. I think they mean for this to impact who he is and how we view him! He watched some of the most terrifying years in recent queer history, of course he would downplay his queerness, of course he would marry two women even if he wasn't happy with them. (Not denying he may be bisexual, but he's certainly closeted.) And in the end, despite distance from his queerness, he still ended up having to waste away slowly from a disease with no cure, just uncomfortable treatments, much like men in the early AIDS crisis. (Early AIDS treatments were all trial based, you were lucky if you got in. You were lucky if you didn't end up in the control group. But the gamble was all you had, and those were the lucky ones. Even then it may not work, it was a trial for a reason. It wasn't until 1987 that AZT was approved to treat AIDS. It wasn't until the mid-90's, years later, that AIDS was considered survivable. I can't help but see his levadopa and how it only slows the inevitable as a parallel to this. A terrible reflection of earlier fears. Parkinson's has no cure. He'll deteriorate until he succumbs, even with medicine. He's lucky if it improves his quality of life, if it doesn't just make him more miserable. He'd be lucky to get a few more years.)

If Devil's Minion happened in the past, Armand watched his lover engage in high risk activities, while clearly aware of the risk given his coverage of AIDS. He watched Daniel writing a book worth of articles on KS and AIDS clinics. He knew how horrifying it was, he knew Daniel knew, and he watched his lover play with fire by using heroin anyway. And in the end? He still watched Daniel deteriorate slowly with medicine that only slowed it more.

If Devil's Minion is only coming and wasn't in the past at all? I think the impact of AIDS mostly falls to Daniel. After being turned he embraces life so fully. Yes, because he was dying before. But his style feels more queer once again. He doesn't have to fear any human diseases! He can fuck men! He can be gay! The shadow that hung over his youthful queer exploration, that interrupted it, is gone for him. And now he doesn't feel it's too late for him, I imagine. I mean, before he didn't have many peers, so many his age died. But now he's a vampire, he's outside of this. He can fuck young men, vampires, whatever. He's now outside of society whether he likes it or not, he's the "other", in for a penny in for a pound, right? And I think that's all going to impact who he is as a character going forward now too.

If there's interest in a Part 2 on the impact of AIDS activism in New York, since Daniel likely saw a lot of it up close, I'll gladly write it. I have opinions and info to share.

For now, stay safe everyone. I love you. And here's some further reading.

~~~~~~~~

A timeline of HIV and AIDS (1981-2024)

Only Your Calamity: The Beginnings of Activism by and for People With AIDS

HIV Infection as Leading Cause of Death Among Young Adults in US Cities and States (1993, about 1990)

On the impacts of the AIDS crisis on gay culture

The Queer significance of San Francisco

1 2 3 4 5 6

AIDS Memorial Quilt

Princess Diana's AIDS Advocacy

About the Berkeley Barb

How Ryan White impacted the view of AIDS

Daniel Molloy's LinkedIn

Practicum Page

[jaijeijayjei]

The layers of tragedy in Sky’s death.

The tragedy isn’t “The Hexcore killed Sky,” it’s “No one saw Sky’s potential as a scientist in her own right until it was too late.”

Especially if the fan theory about Sky’s research being about purifying Zaun’s air with plants is right*

Viktor is dying because of the gases where he grew up, which is “exactly the sort of thing (they) wanted to fix with Hextech.” But they didn’t need Hextech to fix that! All they had to do was give Sky a chance.

I think this is also why Viktor feels so much guilt over Sky- he sees himself in her. He asked Jayce, “Do you think it was my life’s ambition to be an assistant?” It wasn’t Sky’s life’s ambition either.

Throughout Viktor’s whole life people had overlooked him. Unknowingly he had done the exact same thing to Sky. She was doomed to the fate he most feared- dying without leaving a mark on the world.

I think it sucks that Sky’s storyline follows the pattern of scientifically minded women being relegated to a subordinate position focused on supporting the careers of their male counterparts.

No I don’t think the writers are sexist but it rubs me the wrong way that the only female scientist on the show is overshadowed by her male colleagues, never gets to pursue her own career, then it’s barely addressed in the show.

*Why I think this theory is plausible:

In the alternate universe, Claggor is working on a project to make plants that purify air in the underground. AFAIK they’re the only two botanists in the series- Sky had been working on a long term project to better Zaun as well. Especially since they both grew up in the undercity, they understand how bad the pollution is there.

Also: If Viktor learned about her research, he could have assisted her with it with the precious time he had left. He could have died at peace knowing the thing that caused his disease would never again poison Zaun, and that he had a hand in improving lives like he always wanted.

[just1cefor4ll]

—You’re the kind of person they write rock songs about

modern!au Viktor x fem!reader warning. swearing, not proof read, might be OOC

part five || part six || part seven

A/n. I promise the next chapter one of our main characters will take action!! try and guess who >;D

‘One baby to another says,

“I’m lucky to have met you.”

It is now my duty to completely drain you.’

It had been two weeks since Viktor had texted you.

And two weeks since he replied to your messages— which you sent almost daily. However you gave up about 3 days ago, deciding on giving him space.

Why is Viktor ignoring you, you may be asking yourself? He’s in denial, of course!

He layed in bed, staring at the white ceiling. Glow in the dark stars littered the surface, the aftermath of a night when Vi and Jayce had gotten high and decided his ceiling needed “a touch of the cosmos.” They’d stuck there ever since, slightly peeling at the edges but still glowing faintly in the dark.

His friends tired to help.. Mel even came over a few hours ago and that conversation played; fresh in his mind.

Viktor sighed, dragging a hand down his face. His friends had tried to help. Jayce told him he was being stupid, Ekko had just laughed at him and called him a coward, and Vi had threatened to lock him in a room until he "stopped being an idiot about his feelings."

And Mel—Mel had been the worst.

The knock on his door earlier that afternoon had been sharp, demanding. He’d considered ignoring it, but then again, he had no excuse. So, reluctantly, he had forced himself out of bed, limping slightly as he made his way over to the door.

When he opened it, there she was—Mel, standing with her arms crossed, her sharp eyes scanning over him like a disappointed mother catching her kid sneaking out past curfew.

“Viktor.” Her voice was calm but firm.

“..Mel,” he greeted hesitantly.

She stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, and before he could protest, she reached for his phone, snatching it off the cluttered desk.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Viktor asked, his voice laced with irritation as he tried to grab it back. She simply lifted it out of his reach, giving him a deadpan look. “What do you think I’m doing?” she retorted, unlocking his phone with infuriating ease. Viktor grimaced. He really should have put a passcode on it. Mel scrolled through his messages, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You haven't replied to Y/N in two weeks?” She turned the screen toward him, as if he didn’t already know. The last text you had sent was a simple, Viktor?—sent three days ago. Unanswered. He swallowed, looking away. “I was going to—” “Were you?” she interrupted, raising a skeptical brow. “Because it seems to me like you’ve been actively avoiding her.”

Viktor stayed silent.

Mel sighed, tossing the phone onto his bed before turning to him fully. “You like her,” she stated. Not a question—just a fact. “I—” Viktor opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out.

Because she was right.

He did like you. More than he should. More than was probably safe for his own good.

The realization had crept up on him so insidiously that he hadn’t even noticed it at first. It was in the way his heart skipped when your name popped up on his phone. The way he found himself lingering on your words long after conversations ended. The way he’d catch himself looking for you in crowded lecture halls.

And that was terrifying.

Because liking someone meant vulnerability. It meant expectations, and possibilities, and the risk of losing something precious. He wasn’t good at that—not at letting people in too deep.

“You’re overthinking,” Mel said, as if reading his mind. “Just text her back. Or better yet, call her.”

Viktor hesitated. “What if—”

“What if what?” She spat, “Viktor you have no idea how lucky you are to have someone like her. She’s been patient even after you left her without a word for 2 whole weeks. 2 weeks Viktor!! What if she likes you back? Why can’t you think positively for once in your life?!”

He stared at her, heart pounding.

Mel sighed again, softer this time. “Viktor, you deserve happiness. Even if you’re too stubborn to see it,” She put her hands on her hips, giving the phone back in it’s place before speaking up again, “I know it’s hard. You’ve known each other for just a few months but at least try and show her something. That you’re interested so she doesn’t move on.” She said, a sympathetic look on her face as she left the room. “It’s your choice Viktor. We’ve helped as much as we could.”

With that, she patted his shoulder and walked to the door, giving him one last glance before closing the door— the sound of her heels slowly fading down the hall.

And then she was gone.

Now, Viktor sat in bed, staring at his phone.

He should text you.

The thought made his stomach twist. What would he even say?

“Hey, sorry I ignored you for two weeks because I realized I have feelings for you and panicked.”

Yeah, that wouldn’t work.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. He needed to stop thinking. Just—just do it.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed his phone and started typing.

[vik.tor222] Hey. I’m sorry for not replying. Can we talk?

He hovered over the send button.

And then, with a deep breath—he pressed it.

You were sitting on Ekko’s bed, legs crossed as you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone. Powder sat on the floor beside you, doodling in a notebook while Isha lay upside down on the couch, tossing a stress ball in the air.

It had been two weeks.

Two weeks since Viktor had last texted you.

At this point, you were trying to act unbothered, but every time your phone lit up, you felt a flicker of hope—only for it to disappear when it wasn’t his name on the screen. Or when you saw him in the halls, you hoped he’d send a smile your way but you were always met with absolutely zero acknowledgment.

You had already vented about it to your friends. Multiple times. So when your phone vibrated again, you almost didn’t check it.

But then Powder peered over and gasped dramatically. “No way.” “What?” Ekko asked, lazily throwing an arm over the back of his chair. Powder grabbed your phone before you could stop her and held it up like it was breaking news. “Look who finally decided to text back!” Ekko sat up straight. “No shot.” He leaned over to look at the screen, eyes widening when he saw Viktor’s name. “Damn. I was starting to think he died.” Isha tilted her head, unimpressed. “Or got abducted by aliens.” she signed.

You snatched your phone back, heart racing as you read the message.

[vik.tor222] Hey. I’m sorry for not replying. Can we talk?

You stared at the text for a moment, emotions clashing in your chest.

“Oh, so now he wants to talk?” Powder scoffed. “What, did he forget how to use a phone for two whole weeks?”

“Maybe he dropped it in acid,” Ekko joked.

Isha shrugged. “Or he just sucks at communication.”

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Guys.”

“What?” Powder grinned. “We’re just saying what you should be saying.”

You wanted to be mad. You were mad. But you also knew that if Viktor was reaching out, he must have had a reason. Still. You weren’t going to make this easy.

[truly.y/n] Depends. Are you going to disappear for another two weeks after?

Ekko snickered. “Ooh, petty. I like it.”

It didn’t take long for Viktor to reply.

[vik.tor222] No. I swear.

You sighed, rolling onto your back. Damn him.

“…You’re gonna go, aren’t you?” Powder asked, raising a brow. You groaned. “I hate that you guys know me so well.” Isha smirked. “Text us if he ghosts you again.” “I’ll personally hunt him down,” Ekko added.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips as you sent another text.

[truly.y/n] Fine. When?

[vik.tor222] Now? If you’re free.

You hesitated for only a second before replying.

[truly.y/n] alright, omw

Viktor was pacing his dorm, overthinking everything.

This was his chance. He could finally tell you how he felt.

..If he didn’t chicken out.

He flinched when he heard the knock at the door. Too late to back out now. When he opened it, there you were. And you looked—annoyed.

“Two weeks, Viktor.”

He winced. “I know.”

You stepped inside, arms crossed. “What happened? Did you break your hands? Lose your phone? Get kidnapped?” Viktor sighed. “No.” “Then why?”

Here it was. His moment to confess. To tell you that the reason he had avoided you was because he had feelings for you—stupid, messy feelings that made him act like an idiot. But then you sighed, shaking your head. “I was worried about you, you know. And then I thought maybe I did something wrong.”

Something in Viktor’s stomach twisted. You were worried. You thought you did something wrong.

And just like that, every ounce of courage left his body.

This was a mistake. You were mad at him. That meant you probably didn’t like him the way he liked you.

So instead of saying what he should have said, he panicked.

“I just… got overwhelmed,” he lied, rubbing the back of his neck. “With research. And class. I did not mean to ignore you.” Your expression softened, just a little. “You still should’ve said something.” “I know.”

Silence stretched between you. Viktor stared at the floor, feeling like an absolute coward.

“..So, are we good?” he finally asked, hoping he hadn’t ruined everything. You studied him for a moment before sighing. “Yeah. We’re good.” The knot in his chest loosened slightly.

“So, what have you been up to?” you asked, leaning against his desk. “Besides, you know, ignoring me.”Viktor exhaled, relieved that this was turning into something normal. “Jayce nearly set our kitchen on fire last week.” You snorted. “That sounds about right.”

And just like that, the tension faded. The conversation shifted to easier topics—inside jokes, funny stories, things that made it feel like the past two weeks hadn’t happened.

But the truth lingered in the back of Viktor’s mind.

He had almost told you.

Almost.

— 2 hours later

By the time you got back to your dorm, your head was a mess.

Two hours. You had spent two hours in Viktor’s room, talking like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t ignored you for two weeks. Like you hadn’t been overthinking every possible reason why.

And now that you were back, sitting on your bed with Powder beside you, you were starting to wonder if you had forgiven him way too easily.

Your phone buzzed with an incoming FaceTime call. Ekko and Isha.

You answered, and Ekko’s face immediately filled the screen, looking unimpressed. “Well?”

Isha, sitting at home, raised a brow expectantly.

Powder nudged you. “Tell them how pathetically quick you forgave him.”

You groaned, flopping back against your pillow. “It wasn’t pathetic—” Ekko cut you off. “So, you did forgive him easily.” You hesitated. “...Maybe.”

Ekko sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “I knew it.”

Isha signed, “You’re too soft.”

Powder nodded. “Thank you, Isha. Exactly.”

You huffed, adjusting your grip on your phone. “Look, I was mad, okay? I was. But then he actually looked guilty, and I don’t know—he said he was overwhelmed, and—” “Bullshit,” Ekko interrupted. “Absolute bullshit,” Powder agreed.

Isha snapped her fingers to get your attention, then signed, “He panicked and said the first thing that wouldn’t make you madder. Classic avoidance.”

You frowned. “You don’t know that.”

“You don’t know that he’s not lying,” Ekko shot back.

You groaned, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes. “Can we not do this right now?”

Powder smirked. “Sure. Let’s do something way more fun—Did he throw any signs?”

You blinked. “...Signs?”

Isha signed, “Did he act like he likes you?”

Ekko leaned closer to the screen. “Yeah, like, did he look at you all longingly? Stumble over his words? Get real weird and awkward?”

You opened your mouth to say no, but then you thought about it.

About the way Viktor had hesitated before opening the door, like he had to psych himself up first. About the way his eyes lingered on you a little too long when he thought you weren’t looking. About how, when you called him an idiot for ignoring you, he didn’t argue—he just gave a soft little laugh, like he was relieved you were still talking to him at all. Or how, for a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something more—something important—but he swallowed it down instead.

Your stomach twisted.

Oh.

Powder squinted at you. “Oh my God, you’re thinking about it. That means yes.”

Ekko groaned. “Are you serious? He did give signs?”

Isha smirked, signing, “You’re blind.”

“I—No, I’m not blind!” you protested. “It wasn’t obvious! He didn’t say anything!”

“Of course he didn’t,” Ekko muttered. “Because he’s a coward.”

Isha nodded in agreement.

Powder threw a pillow at you. “And you’re dumb for letting him off the hook!”

You caught the pillow with a glare. “I didn’t let him off the hook! I just—I don’t know.” You sighed, flopping back again. “Maybe he really was just overwhelmed.”

Ekko deadpanned. “Do you even believe that?”

You hesitated.

The three of them groaned in unison.

© just1cefor4ll— I don’t consent to my writing being reposted to other platforms or fed into AI. Translating it is also strictly prohibited. 🚫

taglist: @erica2024 @lolixsstuff @skullmvncher @startingtoloveyou @astarionapologist @th3stup1dcat @fiveperrcent @fadedpinkpen

[jetii]

Wonder

Contribution to @clonexocweek | Theme: Quality Time

Pairing: Tech x Sarad (Zeilla Pillian, Jedi!OC)

Words: 8,032

Tags/Warnings: hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff, implied trauma

Summary: Sarad is struggling to adapt to life on Pabu with the Batch, and Tech knows exactly what she needs to ease the transition.

A/N: This is inspired by the softest sweetest idea @baddest-batchers had about Tech and Sarad dancing on the beach on Pabu. Set shortly after The Possibility of Infinity and before Stars Align.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist | Tech and Sarad Masterlist

“And then, she picks up this giant boulder, like it's nothing, and chucks it at the clanker!" Wrecker bellows. He waves his arms, gesturing with the spoon he's holding. It’s a miracle the food on it doesn’t go flying. "Boom! Right in the faceplate!" 

Omega claps her hands, laughing. Her eyes are bright, and she's grinning ear-to-ear. Tech watches the scene with a small smile. He's not the biggest fan of stories about their missions, but he has to admit, it’s pleasant to see his brothers telling them in a positive light.

"That's awesome!" she says.

"Yeah, it was," Wrecker chuckles, his voice a little wistful. "Those were good times."

"I wish I could have seen it," Omega sighs. She shoves a large forkful of food into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully, before she turns to Sarad. “What was it like?"

"Hm?" 

Sarad glances up from her plate, where she has been picking at her food for the past few minutes. He’s been keeping a close eye on her since the start of the meal, and the more they talk about her, the quieter she becomes. 

Her expression is one he recognizes, the same one he’s seen when her abilities become too much to bear, and he frowns slightly, his brow furrowing. Something is not right. 

But Sarad seems to sense his concern, and she shakes her head, giving him a weak smile. Tech takes her hand beneath the table and gives it a gentle squeeze.

"What was what like?" she asks, turning back to Omega. She is doing a remarkable job of keeping her tone light and casual, and it eases his nerves a bit. But he doesn’t let go of her hand, and she responds by rubbing her thumb across his knuckles in a reassuring gesture.

"You know, all of it. Being a Jedi." Omega gestures with her fork, waving it around in the air. "All the stuff you guys did."

Sarad hesitates, her brow furrowing slightly. It's only a momentary pause, but it's enough to worry him.

"Oh, um," she stammers. "It was...well, I guess it was pretty normal, at least at the time. It was all I knew. So, yeah, it was normal. I'm sure your adventures were much more exciting."

"Probably," Omega admits with a shrug. "But I still think it sounds amazing. Do you miss it?"

Sarad blinks, taken aback. "What do you mean?"

Tech tenses slightly, and he feels his brother's eyes shift towards him. But he keeps his focus on Sarad, watching her intently. It's not a question anyone has dared ask her since her return, and it carries an uncomfortable weight.

"Do you miss being a Jedi?" Omega clarifies.

"I...well, yes," Sarad replies after a moment's consideration. "Sometimes, I do. There were aspects of the life that I enjoyed. But overall, I think I'm glad it's over. It was not the best environment for someone like me."

"What do you mean?" Omega asks. Her eyes are wide, and her tone is innocent, but Tech can tell she already knows the answer. They all do. But none of them say a word. They just wait, watching. Waiting to see what will happen.

"Well," Sarad says, taking a sip of her water. She keeps her gaze lowered, and her voice is measured, calm. "There were a lot of expectations that came with being a Jedi. Things that I couldn't live up to. And at the time, I didn't realize how much it was affecting me."

"Oh," Omega murmurs. Her expression falls, and she stares down at her plate, suddenly finding her food very interesting. Sarad nudges her, and she looks up, smiling faintly.

"But it's alright," Sarad continues. "There were good things, too. I wouldn’t have met your brothers, or fallen in love, or had the chance to experience the joy and wonder of the galaxy, without it."

Omega smiles, and the room lets out a collective sigh of relief. The conversation moves on to lighter topics, and Sarad joins in, offering her thoughts and opinions. But Tech can't help but notice the way her hand trembles when he pulls his away to take a drink, or the way her gaze flickers around the room, avoiding his.

He doesn't push the issue. He knows better than to do so. But he finds himself watching her, noting every shift in her expression, every subtle change in her posture. And the more he observes, the more concerned he becomes. His mind is already three steps ahead, planning and considering every possible scenario. By the time dinner is over, he has a dozen potential courses of action.

He's the first one out of his chair, reaching for Sarad's plate before she can protest. She tries to get up, to help clear the table, but he gently pushes her back down. She blinks at him, confused, and he gives her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Stay here," he murmurs, and she nods, sinking back into her chair. 

He can see the weariness in her expression, the tension in her shoulders. She has held on long enough, and he knows she needs rest. He also knows she won't ask for it herself. That's not her way. She will wait until the last possible moment, until she is pushed to her limits, until the burden becomes too heavy to bear. And then she will collapse, and retreat, and try to pick up the pieces.

Tech isn't going to let it come to that.

So when he returns from the kitchen, the clean dishes stacked neatly by the sink, he's not surprised to see her staring at the floor, her hand gripping the edge of the table. The others are still conversing around her, but he can tell she's not really listening. Still, she looks up when he approaches, her eyes meeting his.

Tech nods toward the door leading outside. Sarad follows his gaze, and he can see her eyes widen slightly, her lips parting as she realizes his intentions. He raises an eyebrow, and she smiles, nodding once, before she gets to her feet and makes her way over to him. Her movements are stiff, her pace slower than usual. But Tech doesn't say anything. He simply slips his arm around her waist, supporting her, and leads her outside into the cool night air.

He shuts the door quietly behind him, and Sarad leans against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. She doesn't speak, and he doesn't push. He simply stands beside her, his gaze fixed on the sky above. The stars are shining brightly tonight, and the moon is full and bright, casting its silvery light over the village.

“Thank you," she says, her voice low.

"Of course," he replies as he moves to stand beside her. "You needed some time away."

"You could tell, huh?"

"It was not difficult to notice," he says, his voice softening. “But only because I was looking."

"You're too observant for your own good," she murmurs, shaking her head.

"And you are far too stubborn," he counters, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from her face.

"Takes one to know one," she says with a wry grin.

"I suppose that's true."

He smiles, and she leans against him, resting her head on his shoulder. His arm automatically curls around her, pulling her close as he presses his lips to her hair. The gesture is familiar and comforting, and his heart aches at the memory. How many nights had they spent like this, under the stars, in the silence?

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Better," she sighs. "The fresh air helps."

"I thought it might."

She closes her eyes, her hand gripping his, and they stay there for a moment, breathing in the cool night air. He's still not quite used to how peaceful the planet is, how quiet and serene the world around him can be. But he likes it. And he can't help but think that, if they build a home here, there will be a lot more nights like this one. Just the two of them, standing beneath the stars.

A soft breeze rustles through the trees, and the flowers sway gently in the wind. The scent of earth and petals fills the air, and the sound of crickets chirping echoes around them. From where they stand, he can see a glimpse of the ocean through the homes and the foliage, the dark waters reflecting the starlight. He can almost taste the salt on his tongue, the sharp, tangy scent carried by the breeze. It reminds him of a thousand different memories, a thousand different moments. And yet, this moment feels special, somehow. It's not perfect, or even particularly memorable. But it's theirs, and he wants to savor it.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” he asks, his voice a quiet murmur.

"That sounds nice," she replies, her tone wistful.

"Good." Tech kisses the top of her head, his lips brushing her hair. "Come."

She follows him as he leads her down the path through the winding narrow streets, his fingers entwined with hers. It’s peaceful, quieter than it was during the day, and there are fewer people out and about, those that pass by nodding at them and moving on. They walk in silence, the only sound the faint murmur of voices drifting from the houses they pass, and the occasional call of a bird from the trees.

"You're not taking me somewhere dangerous, are you?" Sarad teases as he turns down an alley between two rows of houses.

"I am offended by the insinuation," Tech says with a playful scoff. "When have I ever led you astray?"

"Hmm," she muses, tapping her chin. "Well, there was the time you insisted we take a shortcut through the jungle, and we ended up getting chased by a giant spider. Or when you decided it would be a good idea to climb that abandoned radio tower, and you fell off the top."

"Both of those instances were your fault," he reminds her with a raised eyebrow. "You were the one who tried to befriend the spider, and I would not have fallen if you had not been distracting me."

"Distracting you?" she repeats, a smirk spreading across her lips. "With what?"

"You know full well what."

"No, I don't," she says, feigning ignorance. "What were you talking about again?"

"You are being deliberately obtuse," he grumbles, but there's no bite to his words. He huffs out a breath and shakes his head. "I assure you, there is no danger. Although, we could always find some if you prefer. I would not object."

"That's alright," she breathes a laugh, bumping his hip with hers. "I think we've had enough adventure for a lifetime."

"Perhaps," he allows. "But the offer remains open."

"I'll keep that in mind."

He gives her a sidelong glance, taking in the sight of her. She's dressed casually in a loose tunic and leggings, her short brown curls clipped back from her face. The moonlight illuminates her features, making her look ethereal, otherworldly. But her grip is warm and solid, and her hand is steady, and he knows that she's real. He's had too many nightmares where she was taken from him, where she was just out of reach, to ever doubt it.

As they approach the edge of the village, he turns left, leading her towards the beach. He can hear the waves in the distance, the sound of the ocean rising and falling with each breath. The sand shifts beneath his boots, and he grips her hand tightly as he navigates the path towards the shore. 

She follows him easily, her steps light and sure where his are unsure and heavy, and he can't help but smile. Her grace and agility will never cease to amaze him. He knows that she doesn't need his help, but he doesn't let go, and neither does she.

They walk along the shore, their feet leaving imprints in the sand. The sight of the footprints side by side is oddly satisfying, and for a moment, he considers taking a picture, but decides against it. He doesn't want to ruin the moment.

Instead, Tech lets his gaze wander over the beach. It's a beautiful place, the sand golden and soft beneath his feet, and the water shimmering under the starlight. The sea is calm tonight, the waves gentle and steady, and the sound of the tide is soothing, lulling.

"It's gorgeous," Sarad murmurs, her voice hushed, almost reverent.

"It is," he agrees, his eyes fixed on her.

"I could live here," she says. "Build a little cottage, grow some flowers."

"Just you and me," he adds, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah."

She glances up at him, catching him staring, and the corner of her mouth quirks up. 

"Are you even looking at the view?" she teases.

"I have seen this view before," he says. "Many times."

"Oh?"

"Yes." He squeezes her hand. "I prefer the one next to me."

Sarad blinks, startled, and a faint blush colors her cheeks. He can't help but smile, and his gaze returns to the sea, the water sparkling under the starlight.

"What a sap," she murmurs, her tone affectionate. "But...thanks."

"For what?"

"For always knowing what I need."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says dismissively, but the smile doesn't leave his lips. "I merely suggested a walk because I wanted to go for one."

"Liar."

He shrugs, and she laughs. He has missed the sound of her laughter. It washes over him, filling his heart, and his chest tightens, a lump forming in his throat. He has spent so long dreaming of this moment, and now that it's here, it feels unreal, as if it might slip away from him at any moment.

"Tech?" Sarad's voice is quiet, tentative, and he turns his gaze back to her. She's watching him, her expression soft and open.

"Yes?"

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know," he admits, his brow furrowing. "I had not planned that far ahead."

"Then why did you suggest we go for a walk?" she asks, tilting her head curiously.

"I told you," he replies. "Because I wanted to go for one."

"And?"

"And..." He hesitates, unsure how to continue. The tightness in his throat has not eased, and his words feel heavy, clumsy, and inadequate. He doesn't know how to express what he's feeling, the overwhelming surge of emotions he's been carrying since her return. It's too much, too intense, and he struggles to put it into words. "And I've missed this. Just...being here. With you."

"Oh," Sarad breathes.

"I know it's foolish," he sighs. "But I can't help it. You're here, and I just want to...to be with you."

"It's not foolish," she assures him. "Not at all."

"No?"

"No," she says, shaking her head. Her gaze drops to the ground, and she scuffs her toe in the sand, drawing patterns in the surface. "I've missed this, too."

"Then please, don't feel like you have to hide anything from me," he murmurs, reaching out to take her hand. "You don't have to pretend, or hold back, or keep things to yourself. I want to be here for you, the way you've always been there for me."

"I wasn't trying to," she says, her tone defensive. But her voice wavers, and she doesn't meet his eyes. "I just...I don't know. I didn't want to make a fuss."

"Sarad," Tech murmurs, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin. He pulls her closer, and she goes willingly, her eyes meeting his. "I have never minded fussing over you. I don't know if you're aware of it, but I am quite skilled at it."

"Oh, I'm aware," she laughs, her expression softening. She lets her head fall against his chest, resting it on his heart, and her hands curl into his shirt, holding him close. "You always have been."

"I enjoy it," he says softly.

"Why?"

"Because it means you're alive,” he whispers. "And that's all I've ever wanted."

She exhales slowly, her breath tickling his skin. His arms wrap around her, and he buries his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her. The warmth of her body against his is familiar, and comforting, and his eyes sting, a lump forming in his throat as memories rise unbidden in his mind. Of a time when she was gone, when he thought he'd never have this again. When all he had were the echoes of her presence, the phantoms of her touch.

"I like taking care of you," he continues after a moment. "It's a privilege. One I will gladly accept, and one I will never take for granted."

"Oh, love," Sarad breathes, her voice breaking slightly. "You don't have to—"

"I do," he cuts her off, his tone firm. "You have given me so much. So, please, let me do this for you."

"Tech..." She hesitates, and he can feel her stiffen against him. He doesn't press her. He waits, giving her time to gather her thoughts. After a moment, she continues, her voice shaky. "What if I can't do the same for you? What if I can't be the woman you remember?"

"That is impossible," he says without hesitation. "Because I am not the man you remember. Neither of us are the people we once were. But that does not matter."

"It doesn't?"

"No," he replies. "It does not."

"But—"

"No," he cuts her off. "It does not matter."

"But—"

"Sarad," he sighs, his hand moving to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin. She leans into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed. "I will not allow you to question my feelings for you. Not now. Not after everything we've been through."

Sarad sighs, her shoulders slumping. She presses her face into his chest, and he can feel her trembling. Her fingers are curled into the fabric of his shirt, her knuckles white, and her breath is coming in short, shaky bursts.

"I know, but..."

"Do you not trust me?" Tech murmurs, his hands moving to cradle her face, his thumbs tracing circles on her skin. "Have I done something to make you doubt me?"

"No, it's not that," she whispers, her voice hoarse. "Of course I trust you."

"And do you trust my judgment? My ability to make a sound decision, based on facts and logic?"

"Yes," she mumbles, her lips brushing his shirt.

Tech exhales slowly, trying to maintain his composure. He understands her fear. But he needs her to understand him, too. He needs her to understand that, no matter what happens, no matter how much she has changed, his love for her is unconditional. Unshakable. It has survived war, and distance, and time. It has survived her death, and his own despair, and it has returned to him stronger than ever. And he will not let it be questioned.

He tilts her chin up, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, and he knows she is fighting the urge to flee. But he is not. Not anymore.

"I love you," he breathes, his gaze fixed on hers. "I have always loved you, and I will always love you. It is a constant. It is a part of me, and it will never fade. Do you understand?"

Sarad swallows thickly, her lower lip trembling. But she doesn't look away, and her hands tighten their grip on his shirt. "Yes."

"Good." He kisses her forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling away. "Then there is nothing else to discuss."

"Tech," she murmurs, her voice wavering. "Please, don't—"

"I am not angry," he cuts her off. "And I am not disappointed. I am simply stating the facts."

"But..."

"I will not argue this with you," he says, his tone softening slightly. "Not tonight. I do not want to spend our time together in conflict."

"Alright," she concedes. "Then can we just...walk? Like we used to?"

"Of course," he says, a smile tugging at his lips. 

He releases her chin and takes her hand, leading her forward, down the path towards the water. Tech lets her hold onto him as she tugs off her shoes, and she dips her toes into the water, gasping at the chill. The sound makes him laugh, and he watches her as she wades deeper, her expression full of wonder. He knows that she’s doing it more for him than herself, but he appreciates the gesture all the same.

They spend the next hour wandering along the shoreline, talking and laughing and reminiscing. And although there is still a hint of sadness and uncertainty in her eyes, she seems more relaxed now than she has all day. He counts it as a victory.

Sarad squeaks as a particularly large wave crashes against her feet, and Tech catches her as she stumbles backwards, laughing. She leans into him, her arms wrapping around his waist, and he smiles and holds her close. He has missed this. The closeness, the intimacy. The feeling of being a part of each other, their hearts and minds linked in a way that can't be described or explained.

He has missed her, and he has missed being able to be himself around her, and he has missed having the chance to simply be together, with no one else around. No missions, no obligations, no duties or responsibilities or expectations. Just the two of them, beneath the stars, with nothing and no one to stand in their way.

She turns to face him, her hands moving up to rest on his shoulders, and she stares up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. There is a question in her expression, a tentative request for permission, and Tech nods once, his heart fluttering in his chest.

He meets her halfway, their lips brushing together in a tender kiss. It's a familiar sensation, a warm and comforting feeling, full of unspoken promises and reassurances. 

His hands find their way into her hair, tangling in the soft strands, and she presses herself closer, her hands gripping his shirt. It's slow and languid, a lazy exploration, and Tech revels in the feeling of her in his arms, the sensation of her body against his.

"I missed this," he whispers against her lips, his hands sliding down her back. "The quiet moments. The time alone. You have no idea how much."

"I missed you," she murmurs. Her voice is low, and her eyes are filled with a longing that makes his heart ache. "So much, Tech. Every day."

"Me too," he breathes, leaning in to brush his lips against hers. "Every day."

Her eyes flutter shut as he kisses her again, and her hands move to cup his face, holding him close. He can taste the salt on her skin, the salt of her tears, and he doesn't hesitate to brush them away.

"I'm here now," she says, her voice wavering. "I'm not going anywhere. Not again."

"You better not," he murmurs, and she huffs a quiet laugh. He grasps her hand and brings it to his lips, kissing her palm, before he tugs her closer into his arms. She goes willingly, nestling against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. He presses his cheek to the top of her head and inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of her, and a sense of calm washes over him.

"I love you," she says, her voice muffled by his shirt. Her hand squeezes his, and he feels her press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "So much."

"I know," he murmurs, his fingers carding through her hair. "And I love you."

"I never stopped," she admits, her voice barely a whisper. "Not once."

"Neither did I."

"I believe you," Sarad whispers. "I trust you."

"Good," Tech says, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I would have hated to have wasted all that effort."

She laughs, her shoulders shaking, and she presses her face into his chest, her laughter muffled by his shirt. The words he can't bring himself to say sit on the tip of his tongue, waiting for the right moment. But it doesn't come. Instead, he closes his eyes and listens to the sound of her breathing, the wind and the waves, and the rhythm of her heartbeat. And he vows to himself that he will never take a moment like this for granted again.

They stand there for a while longer, holding each other, the ocean lapping at their feet. He doesn't realize they're rocking until she giggles quietly and nudges him with her shoulder. He blinks, startled by the sudden movement, and glances down at her. 

"What are you doing?" Sarad asks, her tone teasing.

"Hm?"

"You're swaying," she informs him, and a faint smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "Like we're dancing."

"Am I?" Tech glances down, taking stock of his position. Sure enough, he's moving, his feet swaying in a slow, steady motion. His eyes meet hers, and he realizes that, while she was focused on his movements, her feet had fallen into step beside his, mirroring his motions. "So are you."

"Oh," she laughs. "Well, then. I suppose we are dancing."

"Is that so bad?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"No," she says, smiling. "It's not."

"Then shall we continue?"

"Sure."

He adjusts his grip on her hand as his arm wraps around her waist, and he rests his chin on the top of her head. She leans into him, and they begin to move in time with the music of the waves, swaying gently back and forth, the stars shining overhead.

They stay like that for a while, simply enjoying each other's company and the peaceful silence between them. Their steps begin to slow, and soon, they're barely moving at all, their bodies pressed together, his hand on her lower back, hers on his shoulder.

"This is nice," Sarad whispers. Her voice is sleepy, her eyes heavy-lidded, and her body sags against his, her limbs becoming loose and pliant. "I could stay here forever."

"As could I," he replies, his own voice a low rumble. "But we should head back. You're exhausted."

"No, I'm not," she protests.

"Sarad," Tech chides gently. "Don't lie to me. You need to rest."

"I don't want to," she mutters petulantly, her brow furrowing in annoyance. "I want to stay here, with you. Like this."

Her grip tightens, and Tech can't help but chuckle at her stubbornness. She's always been difficult when she's tired. 

"We will," he reassures her. Her lower lip sticks out in a pout, and he kisses the tip of her nose, making her wrinkle it. "Tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. We have all the time in the world."

"Promise?" she asks. Her tone is joking, but there's a note of uncertainty underneath. He doesn't blame her. Their time together has been so fragile, so fleeting. She's worried it won't last. He is, too. But he pushes the thought away and smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Yes," he says. "I promise. We will have countless days together. I will see to it."

"You better," she laughs, her hand sliding up to cup his cheek. She gazes up at him, her expression softening, and Tech feels his heart skip a beat. "Or else."

"Or else what?" he teases.

"Or else I'll find a way to drag you out of whatever project you're working on and force you to spend time with me," she replies, her voice taking on a mock-stern tone. "And you won't like it."

"I highly doubt that," he chuckles. His fingers curl around her hip, pulling her closer, and her hand moves from his shoulder to his chest, her palm flat against his heart. "I have missed having someone to interrupt my work."

"Liar," she snorts.

"I missed _you_ interrupting my work," he amends, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I did not miss being interrupted."

"Semantics."

"Facts," he counters, leaning in to kiss her again.

She sighs against his lips, and her hand slides down his chest, her fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt. He doesn't deepen the kiss, despite the temptation. Instead, he pulls back, smiling down at her. Her eyes are still closed, and she makes a small noise of protest when his lips leave hers. It's adorable, and he can't resist kissing her one more time, a chaste brush of his lips against hers.

"We should go," Tech murmurs as he pulls away. "Before we both fall asleep."

"You're right," she sighs. "I guess."

"Come on," he says, taking her hand and tugging her forward. She follows him without protest, her bare feet sinking into the sand, and he wraps an arm around her waist, keeping her close. The air is cooler now, and he can feel goosebumps rising on her skin. He rubs her arm gently, hoping to warm her up, and she leans into his touch, sighing softly.

When they reach the end of the beach, Sarad pauses and looks down, her brow furrowing.

"My shoes," she mumbles, gesturing vaguely towards the beach. "We forgot them."

"I will get them," Tech says.

"No, I'll—“

"You will not," he cuts her off, giving her a pointed look. "You will wait here, and I will retrieve them."

"Fine," she huffs, rolling her eyes. "You win."

"It was not a contest," he reminds her. "But I am glad you concede defeat."

"I do not concede defeat," she retorts. "I simply decided that it wasn't worth arguing over. That's all."

"Of course," he says, nodding sagely. "That is very wise of you."

"Hmph."

He smirks and kisses the top of her head before jogging back to the shore, scooping up the discarded footwear and returning to her side in a matter of moments. She's leaning against a tree, her arms wrapped around herself, and he can see the weariness in her features, the dark circles under her eyes. It's not surprising, given how tired she was before their excursion, and he frowns, berating himself for allowing her to stay out so late and walk so far.

"Here," he says, and he kneels down in front of her, holding her shoe out. "Step."

"Really?" Sarad scoffs.

"Yes, really," he replies. "Now, put your foot in, or I will make you."

She rolls her eyes, but she does as he asks, balancing carefully on one foot while he works to get the sand out of her shoe and help her slip it on. The mere idea of sand getting stuck in the shoe is enough to send a shiver down his spine, and he knows she would be in misery if it happened. So he takes the extra precaution of running his fingers along the inside to check for any missed grains, brushing them out carefully and making sure everything is clean and dry before placing it on her foot.

Sarad has had enough stimulation for one day, and the last thing he wants to do is add another layer of discomfort and stress. Even something as simple as sand could be too much, and he would rather not risk it. She's already pushing her limits as it is.

When he finishes putting her shoes back on, he stands, and she gives him a grateful smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you.”

"It was nothing," he says.

"Still," she replies. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he says, and he takes her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. "Now, let's get you home. You need sleep."

"I don't wanna," she whines. It's an amusing contrast to her usual mature, collected demeanor, and Tech feels his lips quirk upwards.

"I'm sorry," he says, not sounding sorry in the slightest, "but you do."

"Fine," she sighs, a long, dramatic sound that's half-exasperated, half-amused. "But only because you asked nicely."

"I always ask nicely," he retorts. "It is my default."

"That's true," she admits. She's still leaning against the tree, and her gaze is fixed on the ground, her shoulders slumped. "You're the nicest person I know."

"I am also the most intelligent," he adds playfully, and she laughs.

"And the most arrogant," she teases.

"Perhaps," he allows. He glances down at her, taking in her tired appearance, and the faint smile that's tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes are hooded, her lids heavy, and he knows she's barely staying upright. "Come on, darling. Let's get you home."

"Alright," she concedes, and she lets him wrap an arm around her shoulders and guide her back towards the village.

It's quieter now, most of the houses dark and silent, the only light coming from the occasional lantern. They walk slowly, Sarad's head resting on his shoulder, her pace unsteady and uneven. Tech keeps a tight grip on her, not trusting her not to trip and fall, and though his pace is slower than usual, he doesn't mind. He's starting to find he enjoy the quiet moments, the simple joy of being near her, and the opportunity to be present. To truly be there, with her, instead of lost in his own thoughts.

It's not something he ever imagined he would have, but it's something he cherishes. It's a reminder of what he's lost, and a promise of what he's found. It's a glimpse into the life they could have had, and the life they will have. And if the past few days have taught him anything, it's that he wants it. More than he ever thought possible.

"Can we stay like this forever?" Sarad asks, her words punctuated by a yawn. Her steps are slowing, and she's leaning more heavily against him with each passing second.

"I would like that," Tech murmurs.

"Me too," she sighs. Her eyelids flutter, her gaze drooping. "Just...us."

"Just us," he repeats. "Always."

She nods, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. Her breath is warm against his neck, and her body is soft and relaxed against his. He's not sure if it's his imagination, but he thinks he can feel the rhythm of her heart, slow and steady, echoing his own.

It's not an easy pace to maintain, but he's willing to try.

They're almost back to the house when she stumbles, her knees buckling. Tech's reflexes are sharp, though, and he catches her before she falls, his arm wrapping around her waist. He pulls her upright and against his chest, supporting her weight, and her eyes open, a flash of panic in them before she realizes where she is.

"Oh," she breathes, a faint smile crossing her lips. "You caught me."

"I did," Tech confirms. He presses a kiss to her forehead, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "And I will continue to do so. For as long as you need."

"I always need you," Sarad whispers, and her fingers curl into the front of his shirt, clinging to the fabric.

"Then I will always be there," he promises. "No matter what."

"Good," she mumbles.

He chuckles and tucks her head beneath his chin. Her eyes are closed again, her breathing evening out, and he can tell that she's fighting to stay awake. Her grip on him loosens as she sags against him, and her body relaxes, going limp.

"Are you falling asleep on me?" he asks, his tone teasing.

"No," she protests, her voice muffled by his shirt. Her hands slip down, curling around his waist, and her fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt. "'m just...resting."

"Alright," he sighs. "Hold on."

He reaches down and scoops her into his arms, lifting her easily, and her arms wrap around his neck. She's so small compared to him, so light, and it takes very little effort for him to hold her, his arm tucked under her knees, his other hand supporting her back. Her head rests on his shoulder, her breath tickling his neck, and he smiles.

He carries her the rest of the way back to the house, the soft glow of the lanterns guiding his way. When they reach the door, he carefully pushes it open with his foot and steps inside.

"You're spoiling me," she mutters, her eyes opening a crack as he nudges the door shut behind them.

"I'm merely ensuring that you do not injure yourself," he corrects her, and then pauses, adding, "But if you want to interpret it as a display of affection and generosity on my part, I suppose I could not stop you."

She laughs, a soft, breathy sound, and closes her eyes again, her head falling back onto his shoulder. He holds her a moment longer, savoring the warmth of her body, the smell of her hair, the steady beat of her heart.

"Where should I take you?" he asks quietly. "Your room, or mine?"

"Yours," she mumbles. She nuzzles against his collarbone, her face pressed into his shirt. He feels her lips brush his skin as she speaks, and his heart skips a beat, his throat tightening. "I want to stay with you."

"Of course," he breathes. "Whatever you wish."

Tech walks quietly through the house, careful not to disturb the others. There's a faint glow coming from the upper floor, a light left on for them, and his footfalls are quiet as he climbs the steps, one at a time. Sarad doesn't stir, her breathing slow and even, and her head remains tucked under his chin, her hand curled into his shirt.

When they reach his room, he eases the door open and steps inside, shutting it quietly behind him. He walks over to the bed and kneels down, setting her on the edge, and she mumbles a complaint as he attempts to untangle himself from her arms.

"I'm not going anywhere," he reassures her, gently pulling her hands free from where they're clutching his shirt. "I'm just taking your shoes off."

She lets out a disgruntled sound but doesn't resist, and he sets her feet on the floor and removes her shoes once more, placing them neatly beside his own by the door. When he looks back at her, she's blinking up at him, her expression bleary.

"You need to change," he says. He brushes a lock of hair out of her face. "I can help, if you would like."

"Yeah," she murmurs, and her gaze shifts down, her cheeks turning pink. "Please."

"Very well."

Tech stands and walks over to the dresser, pulling open a drawer and rummaging through the contents until he finds what he's looking for: an old t-shirt, soft and worn from use, that he remembers her wearing a dozen times before. It's a bit large on her, but she's never complained, and he's grown fond of seeing her in it. It suits her.

"Can you sit up?" he asks, crouching in front of her and holding the shirt out for her inspection. 

"Mhm," she hums, and she does, her eyes barely open. She leans forward, pressing her face into his neck, and wraps her arms around him, her grip loose and languid. He returns the embrace, one hand coming up to cradle her head, his fingers carding through her hair.

"How are you feeling?" he murmurs, his voice a low rumble.

"Tired," she says. "My head hurts."

"That is to be expected," he says, his tone sympathetic. “And the rest?"

"I don't know," she admits, her voice cracking slightly. She takes a shaky breath, and her arms tighten around him, her hands clutching at his shirt. "I'm trying not to think about it."

"You don't have to," he says. His fingers trace patterns on her skin, and her shoulders slump, the tension in her muscles melting away. "You are here. With me. And I will not allow anyone to harm you."

"Okay," she whispers.

"Okay," he echoes, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head, holding her close for a moment longer. His hand finds the clip holding her hair back and removes it gently, letting the short, brown curls fall loose around her face. She hums in approval, leaning into his touch, and he feels his chest tighten at the sound.

"You have to let go, darling," he says, a note of apology in his voice.

"Fine," she mumbles, and he feels her arms drop from his neck, her hands falling limply into her lap. She's barely holding herself upright, and he steadies her as he pulls away, his hands finding the hem of her tunic and tugging it over her head.

Her body is littered with scars, new and old, some of which he can't even remember the source. There's the thin, jagged line on her right bicep, from a blaster bolt that came far too close for his liking. The burn mark on her abdomen, the result of a failed cooking experiment, that makes him smile. The circular marks along her spine, a memento of her time with the Hutts, that fill him with a deep, seething anger. And the countless others, reminders of battles fought, battles won and lost, battles that nearly cost him everything. 

He traces his fingers over each and every one, lingering on the raised tissue of the freshest scars, the ones from her imprisonment and the escape. He feels the guilt gnaw at his heart, a familiar ache, and he knows it will not fade for a long, long time. Perhaps it never will.

"Hey," Sarad whispers, and he glances up, meeting her eyes. She gives him a weak smile, her gaze heavy-lidded and sleepy, but she holds his gaze. "It's not your fault."

"No," he sighs. "It's not."

"I'm okay," she murmurs, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. "We're okay."

"Yes," he breathes, and his eyes fall closed, his forehead coming to rest against hers. "We are."

They stay like that for a moment, neither speaking. They simply exist in the same space, the same time, and Tech lets himself revel in the closeness, the feeling of her breath against his skin, her warmth and solidity and presence. Her fingers are tangled in his hair, her touch soothing and grounding, and he finds his thoughts drifting, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. 

He's so tired. He hasn't slept properly since her return, his mind too occupied with making sure she's safe, that she's still here, still alive, to rest. But now, with her here, in his arms, the adrenaline is starting to fade, the last of his energy draining away. And the only thing he wants to do is lay down next to her and sleep for days.

"Tech," Sarad whispers. He opens his eyes and pulls back slightly, just enough to see her face. Her eyes are wide, her expression worried, and he realizes his head must have drooped, his weight slumping forward. He hadn't even noticed. "You're exhausted. You need to sleep."

"I will," he promises.

"When?" she presses.

"After," he says. He reaches for the t-shirt again and slips it over her head, the worn fabric hanging loosely from her shoulders. It's oversized and shapeless, and the sight of her in it fills his chest with warmth. He brushes her hair out of her face, tucking a few stray strands behind her ear, and she tilts her head into his touch, sighing contentedly. "You should not worry about me."

"Of course I'm going to worry about you," she retorts, and she gives him a pointed look. "Now, go change and get into bed."

"You do not have the authority to order me around anymore," he informs her, his lips quirking up into a faint smirk. "I'm not a soldier."

"Maybe not," she replies, and her hands move to his shoulders, giving him a light shove, "but you're my partner, and you're clearly half asleep. How are you supposed to keep your promise if you're too tired to take care of yourself?"

"I am not—"

"You are," she interrupts. Her tone is firm, and her eyes narrow, her gaze piercing and serious. "I don't need you to sacrifice your health for me."

"I wasn't planning to," he protests.

"Then prove it," she says. Sarad leans forward and kisses his cheek, her lips lingering against his skin. He feels the corners of his mouth tug upwards, and he closes his eyes, sighing softly as her fingers slide down his neck, tracing a path to his collarbone. "Please."

"You do not play fair," Tech grumbles, and she smiles.

"Neither do you," she says. "Now, go. I'll be waiting."

"Very well," he sighs, and he lets her push him gently away, her hands lingering on his shoulders as she does. She watches him stand and cross the room to the dresser, her gaze following him as he begins removing his shirt and changing into his nightclothes.

The feeling of her eyes on him sends a thrill down his spine, a familiar tingle that spreads throughout his body, warming his skin. She's always been good at getting him to do what she wants, and tonight is no exception. But, despite his annoyance at her ability to manipulate him so easily, he finds that he doesn't mind it. In fact, he quite enjoys it. She knows him, understands him, in a way no one else does, and there's a comfort in that knowledge. An intimacy that's uniquely theirs, and theirs alone.

When he's finished, he turns to face her, and her eyes are already closed, her head bowed, and her hands folded in her lap. She's slumped over, her breathing heavy, and he can tell she's asleep before he even reaches her side.

He smiles fondly and moves behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders and nudging her upright. She mumbles a complaint as her body jerks awake, but she doesn't open her eyes, and she leans back into his touch, letting him support her weight.

"Come on," he murmurs, guiding her backwards onto the bed and under the covers. "It's time for sleep."

"M'kay," she mumbles, and her hands curl into the fabric of his shirt, her fingers digging into the material. "Don't leave."

"I won't," he promises. "I will be right here."

"Good."

Tech chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead before sliding under the blankets and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her close. He watches her for a moment, taking in the steady rise and fall of her chest, the flutter of her lashes. The peaceful expression on her face, one he hasn't seen in years. And he feels a familiar warmth spreading through his chest, a contentment that settles deep in his bones.

He reaches out and traces his thumb along the curve of her cheek, his fingertips brushing her skin, and she sighs quietly, nestling against his chest. He buries his face in her hair and breathes in the scent of her, letting her closeness, her warmth, wash over him. She's real, and solid, and she's here, with him.

"This feels nice," she murmurs. Her voice is barely a whisper, her words muffled by his shirt. "We should do this every night."

"I would not be opposed," he replies. "If that is what you want."

"Mhm."

"Then it is settled," he says, and he closes his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "We will."

"Good," she breathes.

They lie there in silence for a while, their bodies pressed together, their breathing synchronized. And as he feels his consciousness slipping away, his exhaustion finally catching up to him, he lets the last of his worries melt away. Because he has her back, and nothing else matters.

"I love you," he whispers.

Her lips curve into a smile, and her grip tightens.

"I know."

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