#she's had to be the cool and confident grown-up for so long

[sage-reads-things]

She's still blushing like crazyyyyyy I love it <333

But genuinely, this must be such a sweet gesture from Mutsumi's point of view. The whole date, she was having fun with Taiyo by doing couple-y stuff at the amusement park, but she was also spending most of it taking charge: she showed up to save him, worked around his bumbled attempts to be romantic, and generally guided him through the whole thing. She probably had the same goal as Taiyo (have fun on a date), but unlike Taiyo, she went in assuming that it wasn't a DATE date. So the rose catches her completely by surprise because she wasn't expecting him to do anything overtly romantic. When was the last time she was able to be caught by surprise, and by something so endearingly mundane at that?

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Unbidden

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x f!reader x Aemond Targaryen Warnings: Cuckolding, voyeurism, smut. Word count: ~3k

Summary: Noticing his nephew's wife appears dissatisfied in her marriage, Daemon sets out to show them both that there is pleasure to be found within the marital bed...

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She has scarcely been able to take her eyes off of Daemon since he first arrived at the Red Keep. He possesses the classically handsome features bestowed upon those of Valyrian blood, carries himself with self assured confidence, and embodies an air of dangerous unpredictability which both frightens and excites her in equal measure. Though it is none of these qualities that keep her gaze fixated upon him.

Her interest is piqued by how utterly devoted he is to his wife. When she stood beside her husband, Aemond, in the Great Hall, as Vaemond Velaryon challenged the succession of Driftmark, her attention was focused solely on Daemon and Rhaenyra. He had been glued to her side, his gaze always seeking hers, and when Vaemond had dared to call her a whore and her children “bastards”, he had not hesitated in unsheathing his sword and slicing the man’s head in half. She wonders if her own husband would defend her so staunchly.

She is not blind to their starkly different situations; Daemon and Rhaenyra’s union is one of love, it is plain for all to see. Her and Aemond’s is one of political necessity. Although they have grown fond of each other over the last six months of their marriage, and he has never been unkind to her, she cannot help the jealousy that swirls, ugly and acrid, within her chest at the ease of which her husband’s half sister and his uncle interact with one another.

The two children they have together already, and the one that currently grows within the swell of Rhaenyra’s belly are proof enough of their passion for one another. However, the looks they exchange at the dinner table this evening are smoldering and filled with intent. Their fingers brush against each other as they pass dishes of food between them, and Daemon’s hand seems to find its way to her stomach, caressing her lovingly, unaware he is even doing it.

Her and Aemond’s intimacy is not so effortless, though it is not from a lack of trying on her part. He beds her frequently, and she greets his advances with enthusiasm, yet his stoicism renders him incapable of ever fully losing control. He is receptive to her pleas of “harder”, “faster”, but she is always left with the dissatisfaction of feeling he is holding something back, and outside of their shared bedchamber it is rare that he ever touches her. She has attempted to broach the subject with him before, framing it as a means for them to find greater satisfaction within their marital bed, but he always waves her away dismissively, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

She can sense something dark and urgent bubbling beneath the surface of him, and longs to draw it out, to experience the full force of the fire of the dragon that runs through his veins, but she does not know how to entice it. 

It had appeared prominent in his seeing eye as Dark Sister had cleaved the Velaryon man’s skull in twain, a potent mixture of bloodlust and desire, as his pupil had dilated ever so slightly. It had sent a shiver up her spine, heat pooling between her thighs, causing her to squeeze them together to fend off the dull, throbbing ache.

She longs for that look to be cast upon her, for her to be the recipient of whatever wrath that follows, and now she is sure that it is Daemon that holds the key to coaxing the darker side of her husband out to play.

The dinner is a tense affair. Aemond sits beside her, so tightly wound she is sure the lightest of touches would cause him to shatter like glass. When he finally loses his cool, throwing barbed words towards his nephews, resulting in an exchange of blows, the evening draws to an abrupt close, with each of them being dismissed to their respective quarters. As they depart the dining hall, her husband and his uncle lock eyes, a smirk of amusement flashing briefly across Daemon’s features as Aemond’s nostrils flare in irritation.

She can feel the heat of his anger radiating from him as he strides through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast, scurrying alongside him in an attempt to match his pace. That look has returned and with it her desperate feeling of lust. If she doesn’t seize the opportunity now, then she is unsure of when it will present itself again.

Reaching out for her husband, she grasps his elbow, her fingers taut against the leather sleeve of his tunic. His steps falter and he turns to look at her quizzically, chest heaving with the laboured breaths of his barely concealed rage.

“What is it?” He snaps.

Instinctively, she shrinks back, second guessing her decision as she sees the way he glares down at her, lip curled into a snarl. Despite her fear, she reminds herself that this is the side of Aemond she had been seeking, and leans into him, placing her hands upon his chest.

“I want you,” she whispers, gazing up at him pleadingly.

“Not here,” he sighs, his expression softening, as he gently grasps her hands in his, moving them back to her sides.

Though she remains outwardly calm, in spite of her disappointment, internally she feels so frustrated she could scream. The look she craves is gone, he has rebuffed her advances and she knows that once more she is destined to an evening where he will treat her as though she is made of bone china.

“I believe you were told to return to your quarters.”

The intrusion of Daemon’s voice causes Aemond to take a quick step backwards, away from her, as she turns to look. He stands before them in the corridor, posture rigid and chin raised up ever so slightly, giving the impression that he is looking down his nose at them both.

“We are on our way,” Aemond responds icily, drawing himself to his full height and staring down his uncle.

The smallest of smiles tugs at the corners of Daemon’s mouth, clearly unphased by his nephew’s hostile demeanour. “I shall escort you both, to ensure there is no further delay.”

Before either one of them has the opportunity to protest, he steps forward, one hand reaching for Aemond’s shoulder, while he places the other at the small of her back. Aemond wrenches away, huffing irritably as he continues walking. She makes no such effort to struggle away from Daemon’s touch, his fingers feeling like a brand against her flesh through the fabric of her dress. 

The three of them walk in uncomfortable silence, the only sound is the echo of their footsteps against the flagstone floor. Her eyes widen in surprise when they reach her and Aemond’s shared chambers and, instead of bidding them goodnight, Daemon follows them inside, closing the doors behind them.

Aemond stares at him quizzically, eye narrowed. “What are you doing, Uncle? If you are here to reprimand me for what was said at dinner then–”

“I am here for your wife, actually,” he interrupts, turning his head towards her as his eyes move from her head to her feet and back up again.

She feels her skin grow hot under the intensity of his gaze, swallowing thickly as he regards her as a cat would a mouse.

“What do you want with my wife?” Aemond asks, his voice lowering in quiet threat.

It is the first time she has ever heard her husband speak of her so possessively and it makes her pulse race. She wants more of this, there is an intense thrill to having the attention of two Targaryen men placed solely upon her.

“Do not think I have not noticed,” Daemon says to her, ignoring Aemond as he continues to stare at her. “You have been ogling me all day. Why?”

Embarrassment prickles at her, and she lowers her gaze. Her voice is small and pitiful sounding to her ears as she answers. “Forgive me, My Prince. I did not mean to stare.”

“Look at me when you speak to me,” he commands, “and answer the question.”

She exhales shakily, lifting her eyes to meet his. His stare is piercing, his eyes darkened and predatory in the low lighting of her and Aemond’s apartments.

“I found myself…rather taken by how you engage with Princess Rhaenyra. You are quite affectionate with one another.”

Daemon’s brow furrows slightly as he cocks his head in curiosity. “Does your own husband not show you affection?”

A wave of sadness washes over her, causing her shoulders to sag at the reminder of the lack of intimacy between her and Aemond. She spares him a glance, noticing he has not moved from where he stands. His expression could be mistaken for neutral were it not for the fury that rages tempestuously within his seeing eye as he glares at his uncle.

Drawing in a deep breath, she looks back to Daemon, answering simply, honestly: “no.” Shame shrouds her, suffocating and dense, feeling the overwhelming urge to cry, her head dipping as she focuses on the spot where the hem of her skirts meets the stone floor. She cannot bear to look at either man, knowing she has spoken out of turn about her husband, not just in front of him, but to his uncle as well.

She gasps as Daemon steps forward, crowding her space, his finger crooking beneath her chin to lift her face up towards his. The touch of him makes her knees buckle slightly and she leans back against the table behind her for support, no longer trusting her legs to keep her upright. “What a brave little thing you are,” he whispers, an edge to his voice that twists her stomach into knots.

“I–I am sorry,” she stammers, eyes flitting nervously between her husband and his uncle. “I should not have–”

“There is nothing wrong with expressing your wants, your desires,” Daemon reassures her. “Perhaps my nephew just needs a little help in learning how best to please his wife?”

She squeals in surprise as he grasps the backs of her thighs, lifting her until she is seated upon the edge of the table she had been leaning against. Lips parted and eyes wide, she turns her head towards Aemond, and though his fists are clenched at his sides, his breathing accelerated in silent fury, he makes no move to stop what is happening. That look from earlier has returned, ravenous and half crazed, she interprets it as silent consent, wanting to do all she can to keep it fixed upon her.

“What of your wife? Will she not mind you…helping us?” She asks timidly, as Daemon’s hands make quick work of rucking her skirts up around her hips.

He chuckles drily in response, dragging her smallclothes down her legs, allowing them to dangle from a single ankle. “You and Aemond have much to learn, sweet girl. Fucking is a pleasure, and Rhaenyra does not mind how or with whom we seek it, as long as our loyalties do not falter.”

The very idea seems scandalous to her, yet wetness gathers between her legs all the same. Aemond has now taken up the seat beside the fireplace, watching them both intently, his stare unblinking and fiery. 

Daemon’s fingers travel up her legs, until they reach the insides of her thighs. His fingers are thicker than Aemond’s, his touch is calloused and rough, where Aemond’s is deft, yet hesitant. His fingertips dig into her soft flesh, hard enough to bruise as he pries her legs apart, a hum of approval rumbling in his throat at the arousal he finds glistening there.

“Does your husband make you this wet?” He asks with gentle curiosity.

She nods enthusiastically, looking over at Aemond and seeing a small, prideful smile ghost quickly across his lips before disappearing.

“Good,” Daemon tells her. “No problems there then.”

His fingertips swipe through her sodden folds, his middle finger quick to locate her pearl and circle it with precision. The movement makes her tense, a jolt of pleasure causing her hips to buck as she mewls helplessly.

“Does he touch you like this?”

“N–no…” she whimpers in response.

“Hmm,” Daemon glances over his shoulder, before looking back at her. “Well, ensure he does in future. I am sure he will; he is paying close attention.”

Looking back over at Aemond, she feels herself clench around nothing, her desire building with a steady, rhythmic ache as she sees the lacings of his trousers strain against his hardness. He is enjoying watching this, lips slightly parted and eye hooded. The sight of it rids her of the last of her inhibitions as Daemon moves his focus away from her bud and dares to push his two forefingers inside of her. She tilts her head back, gripping the edge of the table tightly as she feels her muscles stretch to accommodate him.

“You must be prepared, thoroughly, before you are fucked,” he murmurs against the shell of her ear.

Her mind is foggy, struggling to comprehend Daemon’s words as he presses the pads of his fingers upwards, dragging them against a spot inside of her that causes her toes to curl and moisture to trickle down onto the tabletop. Does he really mean to fuck her? Surely that would be a step too far? Yet she finds it difficult to care when he is pushing her towards the precipice of pleasure itself with simply his fingers. Her mind reels with the possibility of what it would feel like to be stretched out around his cock.

As his fingers pump faster, she moves her hips in tandem, chasing the urgently building pressure that is growing inside of her. He pulls them from her suddenly, causing her to whine in frustration at being robbed of her peak.

Daemon grins wolfishly as his hands move to unfasten his breeches. “I think we have learned enough in that regard, and are ready to move on.”

She averts her gaze as he frees himself, her eyes finding Aemond’s, another silent check in for consent. His throat bobs as he swallows, his knuckles almost white with the force of the grip he has on the armrests of where he sits, but he makes no move to stop what is happening.

Her hands grasp at Daemon’s shoulders as he sheathes himself inside of her, knocking the air from her lungs. Aemond and his uncle are similar in many respects, but this is a matter in which the pair of them could not be more different.

It is odd to her that, despite being between her thighs, he has not tried to kiss her. Whether it is a mark of respect for hers and Aemond’s marriage, or simply because he does not want to, she is unsure, but she is grateful for his abstinence. A kiss seems too intimate a gesture, there is nothing sweet about this.

Daemon sets a brutal pace, once she has had a moment to adjust, rocking into her with a force that causes the table legs to scrape loudly against the hard floor. He is so much more self assured than her husband, utterly unafraid to violate her, and it is freeing to be handled so roughly.

She moans wantonly as he moves a hand to wrap around her throat, applying gentle pressure at the sides. “Do not be afraid to be a little unrestrained,” Daemon grits out, a statement clearly not meant for her, even though his eyes bore into hers. “I have yet to bed a woman who does not enjoy it.”

He has the right of it. The hand around her throat, coupled with the almost violent manner in which he thrusts inside of her is dizzying and, as he slips a hand between them to stroke at her pearl once more, she knows she will not last long. It has never been this intense with Aemond before; a lack of experience, coupled with a fear of hurting her means he is always gentle, hesitant where he need not be. 

The grip on her throat tightens, the ministrations against her bud grow more insistent as she feels Daemon pulsate inside of her, his jaw clenching at the telltale sign that he is close. With a final, harsh thrust of his hips, she cries out in ecstasy as the warmth of his seed spills inside of her, triggering her own release as she tightens around him in rapid, successive pulses.

“Good girl,” he mutters quietly.

He is quick to pull out of her, as she leans back against her palms, pliant and breathless from the experience. She barely registers Daemon tucking himself away and slipping out of the chamber doors, as Aemond moves into view, standing before her.

Under ordinary circumstances, the wrathful insanity she sees reflected in his blue eye would frighten her, but tonight it has butterflies fluttering ceaselessly in her lower belly. His hand moves to the back of her head, gripping her hair tightly by the roots, tugging her head forcefully backwards. Her yelp of pain is stifled by him pressing his lips firmly against hers, his tongue licking against her own in a kiss that is more a desperate display of possession than a loving embrace.

“You are mine,” he breathes, letting go of her momentarily to tug at the lacings of his trousers.

“Yours,” she whispers back, satisfied excitement causing her pulse to thrum at the knowledge she has unleashed the side of Aemond she has always longed for.

Daemon’s spend has begun to dribble out of her, and as she watches the head of her husband’s cock push it forcefully back inside of her, she knows he will remind her every night from now on exactly which Targaryen Prince it is that she belongs to.

[flwrstqr]

𓈃 ★ PRINCESS DIAIRIES | PARK SUNGHOON

synopsis you are a shy, awkward teenager living with your artist mother. your life is turned upside down when you discover you are the heir to the throne of genovia. at first, you're reluctant to accept your new identity. as you face challenges at school, with the media, and within yourself, you struggle to balance your normal life with your royal duties. sunghoon, who has secretly liked you for a long time, finds himself falling even more for you as he sees you grow into your new role. as you navigate your new life, you and sunghoon grow closer, sharing quiet moments and, most importantly, falling in love.

word count 6.8k+

meet the cast best friend's brother!sunghoon x quiet kid/princess!fem reader (feat haneul from kiss of life + other ocs)

genre high school au, royal au, angst, fluff, romance, best friend brother au, unpopular to popular, crack, princess diaries based

warnings swearing, kissing, small grammar errors, everyone being mean to yn at first, some annoying characters, mentions barfing, yn being played by a boy at one point, some second hand embarrassment scene 😓,

danielle's note 𖥔 so i just watched like princess diaries yesterday and i ended up falling in love with it so i wanted to write a long ass au for this. plus like i had to cook up a good plot so 😈 sorry if this is ass but anyways i hope u guys enjoy this (this fic is for my fav hoon stan ><)

﹙⠀ PLAYiNG . . . ⠀good luck babe by chappell roan, feather by sabrina carpenter, saturn by sza, i love you so by the walters, obsessed by olivia rodrigo, xo by enhypen, break up with your girlfriend by ariana grande

YOU WAKE UP TO THE SOFT CHIMES OF YOUR ALARM, gradually getting louder until you reach over and silence it. You fumble for your glasses on the bedside table. Once they're on, the world comes into focus: your room adorned with vibrant art pieces that was made by your mother.

You stretch and get out of bed, your feet touching the cool floor. Your school uniform is laid out neatly on the chair by your desk: a skirt, a crisp white blouse, and a blazer. You put on the uniform, the fabric feeling stiff but familiar. As you stand in front of the mirror, you run a brush quickly through your hair. Makeup isn’t part of your routine; you prefer to keep things simple.

Heading downstairs, you hear the familiar sounds of your mom humming along to music in her studio. You grab your backpack from the hook by the door and slip on your shoes. The house smells of fresh paint and coffee, a comforting mix you've grown up with.

“Have a good day at school, sweetheart! Also, don't be nervous during the speech!” your mom calls from her studio, not looking up from her canvas.

“Thanks, Mom. I will,” you reply softly, even though she can't see you.

Stepping outside, the morning air is cool and crisp. You take a deep breath, adjusting your backpack on your shoulders, and start walking to school. You keep your head down, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself.

YOU ARRIVE AT SCHOOL, spotting Haneul leaning against the bike racks, her face lighting up as she sees you. She's waving enthusiastically, and you can’t help but smile back. Haneul, like you, is considered one of the "losers," known for being a "nerd." But she’s your best friend, and that label doesn’t bother either of you much.

“Hey,” you greet her, adjusting your backpack.

“Morning! Ready for another thrilling day of high school?” she jokes, rolling her eyes.

You both laugh and start walking towards your first class. As usual, you pass the popular girls, Eunae and her two "minions", who are gossiping loudly by their lockers. Your eyes dart towards your crush, Siwoo, who’s with them. His blonde hair is always perfectly styled, falling just above his eyebrows in a way that frames his sharp, expressive eyes. Those eyes, a deep shade of brown, seem to hold a confident, almost teasing glint. His smile is captivating, often described as a blend of boyish charm and genuine warmth, making him instantly likable to many (such as you). Your heart sinks as you see him kissing Eunae. You roll your eyes, trying to forget it.

“Ugh, seriously?” Haneul mutters, noticing the scene as well. “She’s so fake.”

You nod in agreement, but your attention shifts as you catch sight of Sunghoon, Haneul’s older brother, standing nearby. His dark hair, slightly tousled, falls naturally around his face. His eyes, a striking shade of hazel, are often focused.

You give him a small wave. Sunghoon notices and waves back, his smile warm and genuine. The bell rings, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Come on, we don’t want to be late,” Haneul says, tugging at your sleeve.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you reply, falling into step beside her as you make your way to class.

CLASS TIME BEGINS, and your heart races as you try to focus on the lesson. When Siwoo stands up to give his speech, you can't help but be mesmerized. His blonde hair is perfect, shining under the classroom lights, and his confidence radiates as he speaks. You know Siwoo isn’t the brightest student, more of an athlete than an academic, but that doesn’t matter to you. He’s cute, and that’s enough.

As he finishes his speech, Eunae and her two friends erupt into loud cheers, their high-pitched voices echoing in the room. You roll your eyes internally but feel a pang of nervousness as you realize your turn is coming up. Public speaking has always been your weak point.

When your name is called, you stand up, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. Your legs feel like jelly as you walk to the podium, your heart pounding in your chest. You hear Eunae giggling with her friends, and it only heightens your anxiety.

"Look who's next," Eunae whispers loudly to her friends, making sure you hear.

You take a deep breath and start your speech, but the words come out in a stutter. "S-so..."

You push up your glasses, hoping it will give you some confidence, but it only makes things worse. The giggles turn into outright laughter, and you can feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment. Your stomach churns, making you feel like you’re going to be sick.

"Oh my God, she can't even talk properly," Eunae says, loud enough for the whole class to hear. More laughter follows her comment.

In the far corner of the room, you notice Sunghoon watching. His eyes are calm, and there's a hint of concern in his expression You feel like you're about to barf and, in a panic, you rush out of the classroom. The laughter follows you, echoing in your ears.

Once outside, you lean against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. Tears prick at your eyes as the embarrassment washes over you. You feel utterly defeated, wishing you could just disappear. You were always the invisible one, what should you expect?

AFTER SCHOOL, you walk home, the events of the day replaying in your mind. When you step inside, the familiar smell of your mom's cooking greets you. You head to the kitchen, where she’s stirring something on the stove.

"Hey, sweetheart," she says, looking up with a concerned expression. "I heard you barfed in class today. Are you okay?"

You sigh, dropping your backpack on the floor. "Yeah, it was just… really embarrassing."

Your mom walks over and gives you a comforting hug. "I'm sorry that happened. Kids can be really mean sometimes."

You nod, feeling a bit better with her support. "Thanks, Mom."

She pulls back and looks at you seriously. "There’s something I need to tell you. Your grandmother is coming over for tea next week."

You look at her, confused. "Grandmother? But we never talk to her."

"I know," your mom says, her tone softening. "This is the first time we’re going to meet her. She’s your father's mother. After your father passed away a few months ago, she reached out. She said she wanted to speak with you specifically."

You blink in surprise. "Me? Why me?"

"I don’t know," your mom admits. "But I think it’s important to hear her out. She might have something to share that’s meaningful to you."

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "Okay. I’ll talk to her."

Your mom gives you a reassuring smile. "It’ll be fine." You nod, trying to push aside any other thoughts on your mind.

YOU WALK INTO THE CAR MOTOR PLACE, the familiar scent of oil and rubber filling the air. Your heart races as you see your Mustang in the garage, a little closer to the dream car you’ve been saving up for. It still needs a lot of work, but you’re determined to have it ready for your 17th birthday.

As you approach the car, you hear the final notes of a performance. Sunghoon finishes his set and the crowd disperses, girls whispering excitedly about how hot he is. But he pays them no mind. Instead, he walks straight toward you, his eyes lighting up with a genuine smile.

"Hey," he greets, his voice smooth and warm. "Checking on the car?"

You nod, unable to help but smile back. "Yeah, it's coming along slowly but surely."

He glances at the Mustang, then back at you. "It's going to look amazing when it's done. You've been saving it up for a while,"

You blush at the compliment, feeling a flutter in your chest. "Thanks, Sunghoon."

His smile widens, and he leans a bit closer. "If you need any help with the car, just let me know. I'd be happy to lend a hand."

"Really? That would be amazing," you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you at his offer.

Sunghoon's eyes twinkle "Anything for you," he says softly, before giving you one last smile.

YOU STAND AT THE ENTRANCE OF THE GRAND MANSION, your eyes wide with awe. The sheer size and elegance of the mansion are overwhelming. Fancy maids and butlers bustle around. You clutch your cheap, simple backpack, a gift from your mother three years ago, and adjust your school uniform nervously. Your hair is a bit messy, and your glasses keep slipping down your nose.

As you step inside, the grandeur of the place hits you like a tidal wave. The floors are polished to a gleaming shine, intricate chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, and every piece of furniture looks like it belongs in a museum. You can't help but feel out of place, a small figure in this space.

Just then, you hear the soft click of heels on the marble floor. You look up to see her, your grandmother, a woman you've never met before. She descends the grand staircase with an air of grace and authority, her posture perfect and her gaze steady. She's dressed in an elegant gown, a deep shade of blue that compliments her dignified demeanor. In contrast, you feel even more self-conscious about your plain school uniform.

"Hello, dear," she greets you with a refined smile. Her voice is smooth and cultured, a stark contrast to your own uncertain tone. You mumble a shy greeting in return, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Please, sit," she says, gesturing to a plush armchair near the grand fireplace. You sit down cautiously, feeling the softness of the cushion beneath you. A maid approaches and places a delicate china teacup in front of you, the steam rising in gentle curls.

Your grandmother takes a seat across from you. She reaches into a small velvet box and retrieves a necklace and charm, the gold catching the light in a mesmerizing way. "Here's a gift," she says, handing it to you, "has been passed down through our family for generations."

You take the necklace. The charm is intricate, a tiny masterpiece that speaks of history and legacy. You swallow hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. You play around with it nervously as your grandmother eyes you quietly.

As you sip your tea, you can't help but make a bit of noise, your lack of manners showing. Your grandmother eyes you critically but says nothing about your manners. Instead, she clears her throat, the sound resonating in the quiet room.

"I have some news for you," she announces, her tone serious and measured.

You stop stirring your tea and look up, pushing your glasses up your nose in a nervous habit. "What is it?" you ask, curious.

She takes a deep breath, her gaze steady and unwavering. "You are the Princess of Genovia."

For a moment, the world seems to stand still. You choke on your tea, coughing violently as you try to process her words. "What?" you exclaim.

She nods, her expression grave. "Your father was the Prince of Genovia, which makes you the next heir."

"No, no way," you stammer, shaking your head, "I'm just… an invisible me. There's no way I'm a princess."

Your grandmother's gaze softens slightly, "It's true, my dear. Your father never had the chance to tell you, but this is your birthright."

The weight of her words presses down on you, a crushing force that makes it hard to breathe. Your life, once simple and predictable, has been changed.

"No," you whisper, your voice trembling. "This can't be happening."

Your grandmother is about to explain further, her lips parting to speak, but the overwhelming reality hits you like a freight train. You stand up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound that echoes in the grand room. "I need to go," you say, your voice breaking.

Without waiting for a response, you turn and rush out of the mansion, your footsteps echoing in the vast hallway. you push the door open, the bright sunlight outside momentarily blinding you. You stumble down the steps.

You walk quickly, almost running, trying to put as much distance between yourself and the mansion as possible. How can this be real? How can you, an quiet girl with a simple life, be a princess? You are the Princess of Genovia. And your life will never be the same again.

THE NEXT DAY, the reality of the previous day’s still hangs heavily over you. You can hardly focus on anything, your mind constantly drifting back to the shocking news. You try to go about your usual routine, but everything feels different, surreal.

As you sit at the kitchen table, pushing your breakfast around your plate, you hear a knock at the door. Your mother goes to answer it, and you strain to hear the conversation. Your heart skips a beat when you hear your grandmother’s voice.

“Hello, my dear,” she greets your mother politely. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” your mother replies, sounding a bit nervous.

They walk into the kitchen together, and your grandmother’s presence fills the small room. She’s dressed impeccably, her elegance stark against the worn, cozy surroundings of your home.

“Good morning,” she says to you with a gentle smile. “I hope you’re feeling a bit better today.”

You manage a nod, but the tightness in your chest doesn’t ease. You notice your mother looks anxious, avoiding your gaze.

“Please, have a seat,” your mother offers, gesturing to a chair. Your grandmother sits gracefully, folding her hands in her lap.

“Yesterday was overwhelming, I know,” your grandmother begins, her tone soft but firm. “But we need to talk more about this. There are important things you need to understand.”

You remain silent, feeling a mix of resentment and curiosity.

“There’s a royal ball in two months,” she continues. “It’s an important event where you’ll be formally introduced as the Princess of Genovia. It’s crucial for our country and for you.”

Your mother takes a deep breath, finally looking at you. “I know this is a lot to take in,” she says. “I should have told you earlier, but I wanted to protect you. I wanted you to have a normal life.”

You feel a surge of frustration. “You knew? All this time?” you ask, your voice shaking.

Your mother nods, her eyes filled with regret. “Yes, I knew. I’m sorry, honey. I thought it was for the best.”

Your grandmother reaches out, placing a hand on yours. “I understand that this is a lot to accept. But you have a duty, a responsibility to your heritage. This is your birthright.”

You pull your hand back, feeling overwhelmed. “I’m just a normal girl. I don’t know anything about being a princess.”

Your grandmother’s expression softens. “You may feel that way now, but you have the potential to be a great leader. We will help you every step of the way. You won’t be alone in this.”

Your mother’s eyes plead with you. “Please, sweetheart. Give it a chance. We’ll support you in any way we can.”

You sit in silence for a few moments, the weight of their words pressing down on you. The idea of being a princess, attending a royal ball, and stepping into a completely different world feels terrifying. But there’s a small part of you that’s curious, that wonders what it would be like to be this new identity.

Finally, you let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you say reluctantly. “I’ll do it.”

A FEW DAYS LATER, the sun casts a warm glow over your grandmother’s mansion as you arrive. You clutch your simple backpack, feeling out of place yet again as you step into the grand foyer. Your grandmother greets you with a kind smile, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.

“Today’s the day,” she says, leading you to a large room filled with mirrors and high-end beauty products. “I’ve arranged for the best stylists to give you a makeover. They’ll help you look the part of a princess.”

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. As you take a seat, a team of stylists and beauticians file into the room, each one carrying various tools and products. They begin their work, chatting amiably as they discuss your transformation.

For nearly four hours, you sit patiently as they work their magic. Your hair is trimmed and styled into a sleek, elegant look that frames your face perfectly. Your eyebrows are shaped, making your eyes look bigger and more defined. They remove your glasses and fit you with contact lenses, giving you a clearer view of the world without the barrier of frames.

As they finish up, you catch glimpses of yourself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the person staring back at you. Your skin glows, your features are more defined, and you look… different. Beautiful, even.

Just then, your grandmother walks back into the room. She pauses mid-step, her eyes widening in shock as she takes in your transformation. You stand up and turn to face her, feeling a rush of nerves.

“Oh my,” she breathes, her voice filled with awe. “You look absolutely stunning.”

You blush, feeling a mix of pride and embarrassment. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirms, stepping closer to take a better look. “Your hair, your eyes, everything… You look like a true princess.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. The stylists beam with pride, knowing they’ve done an excellent job.

Your grandmother reaches out to gently touch your hair. “This is just the beginning, my dear.”

As you walk through the grand halls of the mansion, you feel different. Lighter. More confident. You catch a glimpse of yourself in a large, ornate mirror as you pass by, and for the first time, you see not just a girl, but a princess.

THE NEXT DAY, YOU SIT NERVOUSLY IN THE BACK OF THE LIMO, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. You’ve been riding in this luxurious vehicle for a few days now, but it still feels surreal. The thought of people judging you for your sudden change in appearance and status makes your stomach churn. Today, you’re picking up Haneul and Sunghoon.

As the limo pulls up in front of their house, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. The driver opens the door, and Sunghoon steps inside. His jaw drops as he sees you, his eyes widening in shock.

“Y/N… you look…” He’s completely speechless, his gaze fixed on you.

Before he can finish his sentence, Haneul appears, her voice breaking the silence. “Sunghoon, get in already—” Her words trail off as she sees you, her eyes widening in surprise.

Sunghoon finally finds his voice. “You look amazing,” he says, blush creeping up his cheek.

Haneul, on the other hand, doesn’t share his enthusiasm. She crosses her arms, her expression turning sour. “So, what’s the deal? You get a makeover and now you’re one of those popular girls who’ll ditch us?”

Your heart sinks at her words. “Haneul, it’s not like that…”

“It sure seems like it,” she snaps, her voice filled with hurt. “You think you’re better than us now?”

Sunghoon, sensing the tension, tries to intervene. “Haneul, that’s not fair. Let’s hear her out.”

You feel a mix of frustration and sadness. “I haven’t changed on the inside. I’m still me. There’s just a lot going on right now.”

Haneul raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”

The limo moves closer to the school, and you feel the pressure mounting. “I can’t explain it all right now, but you need to trust me.”

As the limo approaches the school, you grab a hat from your bag and put it on, hoping to avoid drawing too much attention. You quickly get out of the car, pulling Haneul aside while Sunghoon steps out slowly, still in shock.

“Haneul, listen,” you whisper urgently, glancing around to make sure no one is overhearing. “I need to tell you something. Please, just hear me out.”

Haneul crosses her arms, still looking skeptical but nods for you to continue.

You take a deep breath, lowering your voice even further. “I’m a princess. The Princess of Genovia.”

“What?” Haneul whispers, her anger dissipating into surprise.

“It’s true,” you say, your voice trembling. “I found out a few days ago. My grandmother told me. My father was the Prince of Genovia, which makes me the next heir.”

Haneul’s expression softens as she processes your words. “Really?” she asks, her voice filled with wonder. “You’re a real princess?”

You nod, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “Yes. And it’s been overwhelming. I didn’t mean to hide it from you.”

Haneul’s face breaks into a smile, and she reaches out to squeeze your hand. “Why didn’t you just say so? That’s amazing! I’m sorry I was so harsh.”

"I'm sorry, I couldn't tell anyone." I say, shrugging.

Haneul giggles. “So, does this mean we get to visit a castle?”

You laugh, “Maybe one day. But for now, I need you both to keep this a secret.”

Haneul nods “Absolutely. My lips are sealed.”

YOU SIT IN CLASS, your hat pulled low to avoid drawing attention. Your fingers tap nervously on your desk as you try to focus on your work. The day has already been overwhelming, and the last thing you want is more eyes on you. But as the class progresses, you hear a familiar, smug voice from across the room.

“Sir, Y/N is wearing a hat, and I think that’s against the school dress code,” Eunae says, a smirk playing on her lips.

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as the class turns to look at you. The teacher glances up from his desk, adjusting his glasses.

“Oh, well, that is true,” he says, his tone regretful but firm. “Y/N, unfortunately, you have to take your hat off.”

Taking a deep breath, you reach up and slowly remove your hat, letting your hair cascade down your back. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, and you brace yourself for the inevitable laughter or teasing. Instead, you hear a murmur of whispers filling the room.

“Oh my god, Y/N, you’re so pretty! Can we be friends?” one girl exclaims.

“Your hair is gorgeous!” another student adds, their tone filled with genuine admiration.

You look up, seeing the mean girls from your class suddenly smiling at you, their previous disdain replaced with a strange, almost predatory friendliness.

“I think it’s a wig,” someone whispers, a hint of skepticism in their voice.

Before the whispers can escalate, Haneul’s voice cuts through the noise. “I think her hair is gorgeous,” she says loudly, her tone firm and supportive. “But let’s get back to class. We have more important things to focus on.”

Her words have the desired effect, and the classroom falls silent. The teacher nods approvingly and returns to the lesson. You glance at Haneul, gratitude evident in your eyes. She gives you a reassuring smile, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you.

YOU'RE WALKING TO SCHOOL ON AC RISP MORNING. Sunghoon is beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his uniform.

"So, YN," Sunghoon begins, his tone casual, but there's a hint of something more beneath it. "Do you have any plans for Saturday?"

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Not really. Why do you ask?"

Sunghoon hesitates for a moment, then looks at you with a mix of hope and excitement. "Well, my band is performing at this new place downtown. It's kind of a big deal for us, and I was wondering if you'd like to come."

You stop walking, "Really? That sounds amazing! I'd love to come."

A grin spreads across Sunghoon's face, and he looks relieved. "Great! It starts at seven. I'll send you all the details later." As you start walking again, the conversation shifts back to lighter topic.

"You know," you say after a while, "I've always wanted to see you perform. This is going to be so cool."

Sunghoon chuckles, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "I'm glad you're excited. It means a lot to me that you'll be there."

When you reach the school gates, Sunghoon turns to you, "Thanks, YN. For coming on Saturday. I know it's going to be awesome with you there."

You smile, giving him a gentle nudge. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. See you later,"

A FEW DAYS PASS, and you're walking through the bustling school courtyard, lost in thought about what you might wear on Saturday, when you hear someone call your name.

You turn around to see Siwoo, the school's star athlete and the crush you've harbored for as long as you can remember. He's walking toward you with that effortless confidence that always makes your heart race. The chatter around you seems to fade as he gets closer, and you can feel a rush of butterflies in your stomach.

"Hey, YN," Siwoo says, his voice smooth and casual. "Got a minute?"

You nod, trying to keep your cool. "Sure, what's up?"

Siwoo runs a hand through his hair, looking almost bashful for a moment. "So, I broke up with Eunae."

Your eyes widen in surprise. Eunae, the queen bee of the school and someone who has made your life particularly difficult, is no longer with Siwoo? You can't help but feel a tiny spark of hope. "Oh, wow. I didn't know."

Siwoo shrugs, his usual smirk returning. "Yeah, it just wasn't working out. Anyway, there's this beach party on Saturday. I was wondering if you wanted to go with me."

Your heart nearly stops. Is this really happening? You, the one who has always admired him from afar, being asked to a party by Siwoo? Without hesitation, you blurt out, "Oh my god? Yes?"

Siwoo's smirk widens, and he gives you a wink. "Great. I'll pick you up at seven."

As he walks away, you can't help but watch him go, your mind spinning. The butterflies in your stomach are in full force now, and you feel like you're floating. You finally manage to turn around and head to your next class, but your thoughts are excitement and disbelief.

For the rest of the day, you can't focus on anything. You keep replaying the moment in your mind, wondering if it was all a dream. But no, it was real, and now you have plans for Saturday with Siwoo.

YOU STEP OUT OF THE LIMO, adjusting your school bag on your shoulder. You take a deep breath, ready to face another day of classes and the usual high school chaos. But today, something feels off.

Suddenly, there's a commotion. A crowd of photographers and reporters seem to materialize out of nowhere, cameras flashing and microphones thrust towards you.

"Is it true you're the princess of Genovia?"

"How long have you known?"

"What's your next step as royalty?"

You stand there, stunned and overwhelmed. Your heart races as the realization dawns on you: the secret is out. You glance around frantically and spot Haneul, your best friend and the only person you trusted with the truth. Her eyes are wide with shock, and you can't help but wonder if she was the one who let it slip.

Everyone around you is whispering, their curious and excited gazes fixed on you. Some are even reaching out, asking for your autograph.

Before you can fully process what's happening, you're gently but firmly guided through the crowd by school security and pushed towards the principal's office.

You sit in the chair, your mind spinning with a thousand thoughts and questions. Moments later, the door opens, and your grandmother strides in.

"YN," she says, her tone calm but serious. "We need to discuss the next steps for you. I've already spoken to the principal about the necessary procedures to ensure your safety and academic success."

You nod, still in a daze. "What's going to happen now?"

She sits down beside you, her expression softening slightly. "Things will change, my dear. There will be more security, and certain aspects of your education will need to be adjusted to accommodate your new responsibilities. But don't worry, we'll handle this together."

The principal enters, looking a bit flustered but maintaining a professional demeanor. "We've arranged for additional security measures starting today. Also, your schedule will be slightly adjusted."

You take a deep breath, trying to absorb everything.

THE SUN IS SETTING OVER THE BEACH, casting a warm golden glow across the sand. The beach party is in full swing, with music playing and laughter filling the air. You’re sitting with Siwoo by a bonfire, enjoying the feeling of the cool breeze and the warmth of his presence. He’s been attentive all evening, and you can hardly believe that you're here with him, the guy you’ve admired for so long.

He leans in closer, his voice low. "I'm really glad you came tonight, YN."

You smile, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. "Me too, Siwoo."

Just as the moment seems perfect, a sudden burst of light blinds you. You blink, confused, as you realize it’s the flash of a camera. Then another, and another. You look around and see a swarm of paparazzi emerging from the shadows, their cameras aimed directly at you.

"Princess YN, over here!"

"How does it feel to be the princess of Genovia?"

The questions come rapid-fire, and the crowd presses closer. Panic sets in as you realize your private moment is being invaded. You look at Siwoo, who seems just as stunned as you are.

"Come on, we need to get out of here," he says, grabbing your hand.

You run together, dodging through the throng of people and flashing cameras. He leads you to a small beach shed and pulls you inside, closing the door behind you.

Siwoo looks at you, concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?"

You nod, trying to catch your breath. "Yeah, I just… I didn't expect this."

He steps closer, his gaze intense. "Neither did I. But, YN, there's something I've wanted to do all night."

He leans in, and for a moment, you think he's going to kiss you. But something feels off. The reality of your situation crashes down on you. This isn’t how you imagined it, not surrounded by paparazzi and hiding in a shed.

You try to pull away, but Siwoo's grip tightens slightly.

Just as you're about to push him away, the door of the shed creaks open slightly, and the flash of a camera captures the moment. Realization hits you like a ton of bricks. This was all a setup. Siwoo purposely kissed you in front of the cameras.

"I can't do this," you say, your voice trembling as you push your way out. "I'm sorry."

Before he can respond, you slip out of the shed, the flashes blinding you once again. You hear the paparazzi shouting and the clicks of their cameras, but all you can think about is getting away. You run down the beach, tears stinging your eyes.

THE NEXT MORNING, you pick up the newspaper on your doorstep and your heart drops at the front-page headline:

THE DAILY BUZZ

PRINCESS OF GENOVIA HAS A BOYFRIEND?

Photos of the Princess in a Beach Scandal

Your stomach churns as you see the photos of Siwoo kissing you splashed across the front page. The headline is bold, the images intrusive and unmissable. The story details the scandal that erupted at the beach party, with paparazzi capturing every moment of your private exchange.

You arrive at school, clutching the newspaper in your hand. Whispers follow you through the halls, eyes lingering on you with curiosity and judgment. You can hear snippets of conversations as you pass by.

"Did you see the photos? I can't believe it's true!"

"She's really the princess of Genovia, and now she's got a boyfriend?"

The words sting, but what hurts more is the realization you have yet to face: Sunghoon. You had forgotten about the whole performance on Saturday. You scan the hallway and finally spot him by his locker, his face buried in a book. As you approach, he looks up, and your heart sinks further. His eyes are cold, filled with disappointment and hurt.

"Sunghoon," you start, your voice barely above a whisper. "I—"

But before you can continue, the bell rings, echoing through the corridor. You glance at the clock, realizing you have to get to your private class. You want to stay and explain, to apologize, but you know you can’t afford to be late.

"I'm sorry," you manage to say, but Sunghoon has already turned away.

YOU RETREAT TO YOUR ROOM, hoping for some quiet time. Hours pass as you lie on your bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything in your mind—the paparazzi, the headlines, Sunghoon's hurt expression.

As the night deepens, a realization slowly dawns on you, one that sends a jolt through your heart. You don't have feelings for Siwoo. The excitement and attraction were all lies, fueled by the thrill of being noticed by someone so popular. But when you think about Sunghoon, it's different. You remember all the moments you've shared, the way he makes you laugh, the way he genuinely cares about you.

Sitting up, you take a deep breath. It’s Sunghoon. It’s always been Sunghoon.

YOU PACE AROUND YOUR LIVING ROOM, your heart heavy with the weight of the misunderstanding. Mustering the courage, you pick up the phone and call him.

"Hey, can you come over? I really need to talk to you," you ask softly.

There's a pause on the other end before Sunghoon finally agrees.

When he arrives, he looks weary, the pain still evident in his eyes. You take a deep breath and begin, "Sunghoon, I'm so sorry. I need to explain what happened. Siwoo was using me, and I didn't realize it until it was too late. I didn't meant to skip your band performance."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I… I believe you."

"I know, and I'm so sorry," you repeat, your voice earnest. After a moment, you look at him, your heart pounding. "There's something else. Can you come to the ball with me? It's the Genovia Special Ball, and I want you to come with me."

Sunghoon looks at you, surprised. "What?"

You smile a little and repeat yourself, "Will you come with me to the ball?"

After a few moments, he nods slowly. "Okay, I'll go."

THE DAY OF THE GRAND BALL HAD FINALLY ARRIVED, but instead of excitement, you were overwhelmed with stress. Your grandmother was incredibly upset about the whole situation, her stern words echoing in your mind. The pressure of becoming a princess was suffocating, and in a moment of desperation, you decided to run off.

As you hurriedly packed your things, you noticed a letter on your desk. With trembling hands, you opened it and began to read.

"Dearest Y/N,

If you’re reading this, it means the time has come for you to embrace your destiny. I know it seems daunting, but remember, you are stronger than you think. You have the heart of a lion and the grace of a swan. Being a princess isn’t about perfection; it’s about kindness, courage, and love. I believe in you, and I know you will make me proud. Trust yourself, and remember, you are never alone.

With all my love, Dad"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you read his words. You realized, you couldn't run away from reality and you had to face it.

Meanwhile, at the ball, Sunghoon was waiting anxiously. He felt betrayed and worried as you hadn't shown up yet. Your grandmother, too, was nervous, glancing at the door every few minutes, hoping you would walk through.

Sunghoon paced near the entrance, his eyes darting to the door every few seconds. "Where is she?" he muttered under his breath, clenching his fists. He felt a pang of hurt, thinking you had left him again.

Your grandmother, regal yet tense, addressed the crowd with a forced smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. My granddaughter will be joining us shortly."

Determined, you dashed out into the pouring rain, hailing a taxi to the grand party. The rain soaked through your dress, but you didn’t care. You arrived, drenched from head to toe, but your resolve was unshaken. You rushed inside, interrupting your grandmother's speech. She was shocked to see you, but relief washed over her face as she motioned for you to come forward.

"Y/N, my dear," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "You made it."

Soaking wet, you stood beside her, and she handed you the microphone. Despite your usual fear of public speaking, you felt an unexpected calmness. You began your speech, your voice steady and clear.

"Ladies and gentlemen," you started, taking a deep breath, "I apologize for my tardiness. Today, I was reminded of the true meaning of being a princess. It’s not about the crown or the title, but about the responsibility to lead. My father’s words reminded me of this, and I am here to honor him and all of you."

You paused, scanning the room filled with expectant faces. "Being a princess means embracing the values that truly matter: compassion, integrity, and dedication to our people. It's about standing up for what is right, even when it is difficult. It's about listening to the voices of those who cannot be heard and offering a hand to those in need."

You took another deep breath, feeling the weight of the crown yet also the support of your father's spirit. "My father taught me that true leadership comes from the heart. It's about being a beacon of hope and a pillar of strength for others. I promise to uphold these values and to be the princess that you all deserve."

The crowd listened intently, and by the time you finished, they erupted in cheers. Your grandmother placed the crown on your head, and you were officially crowned princess.

YOU SLIPPED INTO A BREATHTAKING GOWN OF SILK AND LACE , its intricate design accentuating your every movement. Your hair was swept up into an elegant chignon, adorned with delicate jewels that sparkled under the ballroom lights.

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement as you re-entered the ballroom. The music had started, and couples were already dancing. Your eyes searched the room until they found Sunghoon, who was waiting for you near the dance floor. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and he quickly made his way to your side.

"You look stunning," he whispered, offering his hand. You blushed and took it, feeling the warmth of his touch.

"Thank you," you replied softly. "Shall we?"

He led you to the center of the dance floor, and the music shifted to a slow, romantic melody. Sunghoon's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he began to lead you in the dance. The world seemed to fade away as you moved in perfect harmony, your eyes locked on each other.

"You did amazing tonight," Sunghoon said, his voice low and sincere. "I'm so proud of you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection. "I couldn't have done it without you," you admitted. "Thank you for believing in me."

As the dance continued, the room seemed to blur around you, leaving only the two of you in focus. Sunghoon's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Y/N," he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek. "There's something I've wanted to tell you for a long time."

Your heart raced, and you felt a flutter of anticipation. "What is it?" you whispered, barely able to breathe.

"I love you," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I always have."

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours. His hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you even closer, while his other hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing your skin.

You could feel his heartbeat through the closeness, and you melted into his embrace. Your hands instinctively reached up, one resting on his shoulder while the other gently tangled in his hair.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

"I love you too, Sunghoon," you confessed, your voice trembling with happiness. "I always will."

[spicymambaae]

The story is a continuation of Karina Moans II

----

Giselle stepped into their dorm, the cool air greeting her as she stepped out of her gym shoes. She was drenched in sweat, her muscles aching pleasantly from the day's workout. With a contented sigh, she made her way to the bathroom, ready to wash away the remnants of her exertion.

She stepped into the shower, the hot water instantly soothing her tired muscles after an intense workout at the gym. As the warm droplets cascaded down her body, her mind, still buzzing from the endorphin rush, inevitably wandered back to Karina and Winter. She couldn’t get the image out of her head—the video she had accidentally seen on Karina's tablet earlier that week.

Her thoughts drifted to the explicit video, the sounds of Karina's moans and gasps echoing in her mind. She recalled the sight of Winter, strap-on harness snugly fitted around her hips, dominating Karina with confident thrusts. Giselle's breath quickened as she pictured Karina's breasts jiggling with each thrust, her erect nipples begging for attention. The contrast of Winter's strong, purposeful motions and Karina's yielding, pleasure-filled responses sent a jolt through Giselle's body.

As she lathered her hair, her hands moved sensually over her own breasts, her fingers gently pinching her erect nipples. Her mind replayed the scene of Winter's tongue swirling and sucking on Karina’s breasts. Giselle's own breath quickened as she fantasized about being the recipient of such passionate oral devotion.

Her hands slowly traveled downward, her fingers gently brushing against her flat stomach and dangerously close to her core. She remembered the way Winter's fingers had danced up and down Karina's slit, making her shudder with anticipation. Giselle's thighs clenched involuntarily as she contemplated touching herself, her fingers itching to explore her own sensitive folds.

But suddenly, a wave of guilt washed over her, dousing the flames of desire that had threatened to consume her. "What am I doing?" she thought, her heart pounding. "They're my group members and my friends. This is so wrong. I shouldn't be fantasizing about them like this." She repeated the mantra to herself, trying to extinguish the fire that had ignited within her. “They’re my friends… they’re my friends… AND THEY ARE FUCKING EACH OTHER!?”

The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Giselle turned off the shower, stepping out and wrapping herself in a towel. She stood in front of the mirror, towel-drying her hair, her mind in turmoil. The image of Karina and Winter, locked in a passionate embrace, their bodies intertwined, refused to leave her mind. She tried to make sense of it all, her thoughts a jumble of arousal, confusion, and a hint of anger.

“They're my friends and freakin adults”, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. “If they want to fuck each other's brains out, it's their business. I shouldn't let it affect me like this.” She attempted to rationalize their actions, thinking of them as two grown women with healthy sexual appetites. “Horny asses”, she thought with a mix of amusement and frustration “can't even keep their panties on.”

But the fact that they were members of one of the biggest a K-pop groups together added a layer of complexity to the situation. Giselle knew the industry was filled with strict rules and expectations, and the thought of her group members breaking those rules aroused and angered her simultaneously.

“When did this even start?” she wondered. “How long have they been sneaking around behind everyone's backs?” She wanted answers, but a part of her also feared the potential consequences of digging too deep.

As she dressed, her movements were mechanical, her mind still reeling. Giselle's eyes drifted shut as she imagined Winter's tongue teasing Karina's clit, the sounds of their moans and gasps filling the room. She bit her lip, her breath quickening. "Damn it," she muttered, opening her eyes and shaking her head. "Snap out of it, Giselle. This is getting out of hand." She tried to push the thoughts aside, focusing on the upcoming rehearsals and promotions. But the image of Karina's tablet, hidden beneath the pillow, kept flashing in her mind, a constant reminder of the secret she now shared with her group members.

Giselle took a deep breath, she knew that ignoring the situation wasn't an option. The curiosity was eating away at her, and she needed to understand the dynamics between Karina and Winter. Maybe they're just exploring their sexuality, she thought. Maybe it's a one-time thing.

The rationalization brought her a moment of calm, but deep down, she knew that the truth might be more complicated. Giselle felt trapped between her loyalty to her friends and her desire to uncover their secrets. The thought of them together, their moans echoing in her mind, only added fuel to her conflicting emotions.

With a sigh, she ran her hands through her hair, accepting the inevitable. “I can’t believe this; I must be losing my mind.” She began to question her own sanity. “I need to see it again.”

Giselle stood at the threshold of her room. The clashing emotions battled inside her, but her desire to uncover the truth was winning.

She took a step back, leaning against the door frame, her mind racing. “I need to know more”, she thought. “I need to see it with my own eyes again.” The thought of witnessing her friends fucking both excited and scared her, but the pull was too strong to resist.

With a determined stride, Giselle entered her room and made her way to her bed. She knelt down and reached beneath the pillow, her heart pounding. Her fingers closed around the smooth surface of Karina's tablet, and she drew it out.

Holding the device in her hands, Giselle hesitated for a moment. “Am I really going to do this?” she asked herself. “What if they find out?” But the temptation was too great, and she swiped her finger across the screen, unlocking it with the password she had seen Karina enter.

She navigated to the hidden folder, her breath quickening as she recalled the explicit content within. Her thumb hovered over the play button, her heart racing as if she were about to uncover a forbidden treasure.

Giselle closed her eyes for a brief moment, steeling herself for what she was about to witness. Then, with a click, she pressed play.

The scene began with Karina setting the camera on a cabinet, the lens capturing the hotel room and the bed in the center. Karina plunged onto the bed, her legs dangling off the side, her back facing the camera.

As the camera focused on Karina, Giselle's breath caught in her throat. There, walking into the frame, was Winter, clad only in her panties, her perky breasts on full display as she towel-dried her hair. Giselle's eyes widened further, taking in the sight of Winter's toned body and the mischievous grin on her face.

"I can't believe we convinced Giselle to share a room with NingNing," Winter said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. As she slowly walked between Karina's legs, the camera captured the playful seduction unfolding. Karina let out a low laugh and agreed, "Especially knowing there's no bathtub in their room."

At this, Giselle scoffed. "You fucking bitches," she muttered under her breath. "I didn't get the bathtub because you two wanted to fuck?!?!"

Giselle's eyes narrowed, her curiosity battling within her. She watched, transfixed, as Karina made a move to slowly get up, her hands reaching for Winter’s waist. But Winter had other plans. She pushed Karina back down onto the bed and slowly climbed over her body, her movements deliberate and teasing.

"Ya, ya, ya" Karina gasped, her voice breathy as Winter settled comfortably on top of her.

Winter's grin widened as she looked down at Karina, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, come on," she purred, her voice a low, sultry murmur. "You didn't think I'd let you off that easy, did you?"

Karina's hands instinctively rested on Winter's hips, her fingers brushing against her thighs. "And what exactly do you have in mind?" she asked, her voice a mix of playful curiosity and genuine affection.

Winter's fingers traced light, teasing patterns along Karina's breasts, slightly squeezing. "You already forgot what you told me on the plane?" she teased, her eyes locked with Karina's.

Karina's breath caught in her throat, "Why don't you remind me?" she challenged.

Giselle's heart raced as she watched the flirtatious exchange, feeling like a voyeur to a private moment between her friends. She found herself leaning forward, her eyes glued to the screen, eager to hear Winter's response.

And Winter delivered. With a playful grin, she climbed up Karina's body until her clothed pussy was positioned directly over Karina's face. Giselle gasped at the bold move, her eyes widening as Winter slowly lowered herself, sitting on her friend’s face.

Karina didn't hesitate. Giselle heard her moans as her tongue teased the fabric of Winter's panties. Winter pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Do you remember now?" she asked, her voice thick with arousal.

Karina nodded eagerly, her hands reaching up to grasp Winter's waist. Without breaking eye contact, Winter hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slid them aside, fully exposing herself to Karina's waiting mouth.

Giselle bit her lip, holding her breath as Karina flicked out her tongue to taste Winter. But Winter quickly pulled back, denying her the pleasure. With a firm grip on Karina's chin, she asked again, "I didn’t hear you. Do you remember what you told me?"

Karina's eyes sparkled with mischief. "I remember," she said, "I remember telling you that I want you to cum all over my face and scream my name."

Giselle's breath caught in her throat as she listened to Karina's confession. She couldn’t believe the words coming from her friend’s mouth. She could feel the raw, unfiltered desire radiating from the video, and it sent a jolt of arousal through her own body.

Winter moaned as she lowered herself, feeling Karina's tongue flick against her clit. "Fuck, yes," she gasped, her hips rocking involuntarily. Without warning, Karina sucked Winter's clit into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it expertly.

Winter cried out, her hands tangling in Karina's hair as she pulled her closer. "Make me cum all over your pretty face," she panted, her body arching towards Karina's eager mouth. “Come on, taste me, baby.”

Karina moaned in response, the vibrations sending shivers through Minjeong's body. "You taste so fucking good," she mumbled between licks and sucks. "I could eat this sweet pussy forever."

The contrast between their public personas and their private lives was staggering, and Giselle found herself intrigued, aroused, and more curious than ever.

Giselle watched in disbelief, her eyes widening as the angle of the video suddenly changed. The scene now unfolded from Winter's point of view, as she held a camera in one hand while riding Karina's face. She couldn’t believe her eyes—the filthiness of her friends knew no bounds.

She felt a throb between her legs as she witnessed Karina's eyes staring directly into the camera, her tongue parting Winter's folds, lapping eagerly at her clit.

"You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my pussy," Winter cooed, "Look at me while you eat me out." Giselle heard the lust in Winter's voice, the command laced with need.

Winter held Karina's head gently, guiding her movements. She started rocking her hips, gliding her wetness over Karina's mouth, the camera capturing the lewd sight of Karina's tongue flicking and teasing her clit.

"Look at me," Winter insisted, her hips moving in a slow, sensual grind. "Watch me as you make me cum." Karina obediently locked her gaze with Winter’s as she continued to pleasure her.

Giselle could hear the lewd, wet sounds of Karina sucking on Winter's pussy, the slurping noises filling her ears. The sight of Karina's tongue probing, delving, and the glistening wetness of Winter's folds was almost too much for Giselle to bear.

Winter moaned, her body convulsing in sheer pleasure. "Yes, baby, don’t stop," she breathed, her hips moving faster, grinding against Karina's mouth with abandon. "Suck my clit," she pleaded.

The camera, still held in Winter's hand, captured the moment in exquisite detail. Giselle watched as Karina swirled her tongue around Winter's engorged clit.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Karina parted her lips and sucked Winter's clit into her mouth, gently tugging and releasing it with a soft pop. Giselle could swear she could feel the suction.

Karina's tongue then ventured lower, nibbling on Winter's puffy pussy lips, her clit twitching and throbbing for attention.

Again, Karina wrapped her lips around Winter's clit, sucking gently while her tongue swirled relentlessly. Giselle could hear the wet sounds of Karina's tongue swirling and lapping at Winter's clit, the camera shaking slightly as Winter struggled to maintain her grip. Karina slowly pulled away, releasing it with another wet pop that made Winter gasp and arch her back.

Winter slightly pulled away, the overwhelming sensation causing her to catch her breath.

The angle of the video switched back to the original view, showing Karina stretching her neck, her tongue darting out to taste Winter once more. "I want more," Karina whined, her hands gripping Winter's thighs. Winter's eyes darkened with lust, her gaze fixed on Karina's eager face. "Are you ready?" she asked, her voice low and sultry.

Karina nodded eagerly, her heart racing. "Yes," she breathed, her eyes fixed on Winter's glistening pussy. "Please."

Winter slowly lowered herself, her eyes never leaving Karina's. "I'm going to smother you with my pussy, baby," she purred, her voice dripping with promise.

Karina's breath quickened as she felt Winter's weight settle on her face, her nostrils filled with the intoxicating scent of Winter's arousal. She moaned, the vibrations sending shivers through Winter's body.

"One," Winter started counting, her voice strained as she held her position, savoring the sensation of control. "You like being my pussy slut, don't you?" Winter continued, her hips rocking gently. "Being at the mercy of my pussy?"

Karina nodded, her mouth muffled by Winter's soft, swollen pussy. She moaned again, her tongue flicking against Winter's sensitive clit.

"Two," Winter whispered, her hips moving in a slow, sensual grind. "You want more, don't you, baby? You want me to fuck your mouth?" Karina whimpered in response, her body arching slightly, inviting Winter to take control.

Her tongue darted out, lapping at Winter's juices, tasting the sweet nectar that flowed freely. Winter pressed down harder, her pussy covering Karina's mouth and nose, depriving her of oxygen.

"Three," Winter breathed, her hips rocking faster, gliding her wet pussy over Karina’s mouth.

"Four," Winter continued, her breath quickening as the pleasure intensified. "I own your mouth, baby. It's mine to do with as I please." She kept riding Karina's face, her hips moving faster and faster.

Karina moaned in response, her tongue never slowing as she lapped at Winter's pussy.

"Five," Winter counted, her voice strained as the pleasure built. "Fuck, your mouth feels so damn good.”

Winter's body trembled as she relished the sensations, her hips moving faster, fucking Karina's mouth with abandon. "Fuck, yes," she gasped, her hands tangling in Karina's hair. "Keep licking, keep sucking. Make me yours."

Karina whimpered, her tongue never slowing, her hands caressing Winter's ass, urging her on. She tongue-fucked Winter's pussy, feeling the tight walls clench around her tongue. Winter's body started convulsing, her pussy trapped in the vice of Karina's mouth.

With a soft moan, Winter slowly lifted herself, allowing Karina a brief moment to catch her breath and savor the taste of Winter's essence on her tongue. "Good job, baby," Winter cooed, stroking Karina's hair. “You always eat my pussy so good.”

Karina's eyes fluttered open, her face flushed and her lips swollen from the passionate pussy-eating she had bestowed upon Winter.

"Please, don't stop," she begged, her voice hoarse and filled with need. "I need to taste you again, feel you, devour you…make you cum."

Winter smirked, her power over Karina intoxicating. She lowered herself again, her pussy covering Karina's mouth.

"One..." she started counting again, her voice shaking as she felt her own arousal building to a crescendo. "Make me cum, Karina. Put your fucking tongue inside my pussy and drink my juices."

Giselle was so engrossed in the scene, her breath coming in short gasps, that the sudden notification pop-up startled her. She cussed under her breath, frustrated that she never got to see the moment of Winter cumming. Just as she never got to see Karina cumming the last time. Then, she cussed again, realizing how absurd she sounded, getting annoyed about not fulfilling her voyeuristic desires.

"Jesus," she muttered, shaking her head as she tried to assimilate what she had just watched…AGAIN…ON HER OWN WILL. But the notifications kept popping up on the screen, distracting her from her thoughts. It was Winter, sending messages to Karina.

The notifications kept coming, and Giselle's fingers hovered over the screen, unsure what to do. But before she could decide, her phone suddenly started to ring. It was Winter. Giselle's heart stopped, her fingers frozen above the screen, contemplating whether to pick up. “These two are gonna give me have a heart attack.”

Little did she know that Karina and Winter were behind the door all this time, listening to her involuntary moans, smirks on their faces as they knew exactly what Giselle had just watched. They had staged this whole scenario, leaving the tablet for Giselle to find, knowing her curiosity would get the better of her.

---

Winter Moans I Karina Moans I Karina Moans II

[soamericn]

𝜗𝜚 𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐓𝐋𝐄

🐰ྀི₊˚⊹ ‘ truth, dare, spin bottles you know how to ball, i know aristotle. ‘

𝜗𝜚… previous chapter - next chapter

𝜗𝜚… summary , ( f!verstappen!y/n x lando norris ) y/n is the younger sister of world champion max verstappen and an author known for her young adult romance novels despite never being in a relationship herself. lando norris is a formula one driver and is secretly an old friend and a fan of her books since 2020.

𝜗𝜚… faceclaim , brooke flecca

𝜗𝜚… triggers , none I don't think (maybe some cursing)

𝜗𝜚… authors note , thank you so much for 100 followers!! new driver series coming out soon based on an album ( I'll be making a fic for a diff driver based on each song )

🐰ྀི₊˚⊹ masterlist

the drive there had been relatively calm. it wasn’t awkward though, y/n and lando had known each other for years, despite not talking for the past two . the conversation was laced with nostalgia as they reminisced on his rookie year, when she went to every race and he’d been convinced she was his “lucky charm”

the air outside was warm with a flowy cool breeze, australian autumns were always nice and provided a small comfort to the girl who’d appreciated the weather. 

the club they’d gone to, however, was packed and it felt suffocating. y/n was never the one for clubs, she liked people, she liked dancing and music. but putting them together with a mix of alcohol and drugs never was something she enjoyed. (her brother on the other hand was the opposite)

she’d hung back near the bar slowly sipping on a sprite. she never drank alcohol; it was a personal preference, she hated the feeling of being out of control. lando had picked up drinking since the last time they’d saw each other, he was partying his little heart out with their friends now. 

y/n hung back watching him with a sorta fondness in her eyes, the scene was beautiful to her, romanticizing the true happiness he was experiencing to ignore how claustrophobic she was feeling. and how she’d been picking at the skin around her nails and the pit in her stomach. 

lando seemed to almost hear her cry for help, as he left the dance floor and walked over to her. she assumed to order another drink since he’d only had one. “you alright?”

y/n nodded but her mouth spoke differently, forever honest. “I feel like i‘m suffocating a bit, if i’m honest.” she admitted cringing as soon as she said it.

lando understood, but she knew he would. he helped out his hand, “then shall we?”

she furrowed an eyebrow and with pursed lips her eyes flicked up and down to his hand and then back to him. “shall we what?”

“bail.” 

“you were having fun, I'm a grown woman. if I wanna leave, I will.” y/n reassured guilt filling up her throat.

lando shook his head with a small grin that he always seemed to adorn. “oh c’mon I invited you, I'm here to spend time with you anyway.”

hesitantly the dutch girl took his hand and they hurried out of the bar, met with fresh air at last and a chill of the night. it felt a bit silly but y/n thought about writing a book in this moment, she thought about how she’d described the scene, how the two old friends reconnecting would turn into something more. 

she knew it was only a fantasy, all her books were. picturesque moments painted carefully by her hands, nothing that’d happen in real life. especially to her. she’d been confident in herself but she’d come to terms on how unsuccessful her love life had been. she was twenty-three and hadn’t dated a single person, not one out of the eight billion people on this earth.

so she’d lost hope. lando shouldn’t give her hope, she knew no one would ever follow through with it. she had enough self respect to stop trying to chase false dreams. 

they’d been walking down the street of melbourne for a few minutes now in a comfortable silence though she’d been surprised lando managed to keep his mouth shut this long. the sky was clear, the stars brighter than she’d seen in a while, the streets were practically empty and the air smelt of saltwater. 

“where are you taking me?” y/n asked realizing they’d passed lando’s car a couple minutes back. 

lando looked at her, “do you not trust me?” 

she pretended to think about it for a moment before meeting his gaze which remained on her. “haven't seen you in two years, maybe you've changed.”

he really had. he’d changed so much but somehow not at all, “you definitely have.” lando seemed to backtrack in his mind as his words came out as an insult. “in a good way I mean, I’ve just missed you.”

he missed her. maybe it’d been her chronic loneliness talking but she hadn’t heard those words from anyone in years. she looked down at her feet, a small smile growing on her face. “I missed you too, a lot.” 

“why didn’t you call or text, I swear I would’ve thought you died if not for your instagram.” lando wasn’t mad or at least he didn’t sound it, still y/n was embarrassed there was no reason for her to fall off the face of earth like she did, maybe she was just destined to be lonely and needed to prove she could do it. maybe that didn’t need two years to prove, she’d been proving it for twenty-two years.

“I’m not mad, I’m just happy to see my idol again.” he bumped into her shoulder with a smirk.

y/n giggled looking at him unconvinced. “your idol?” 

lando nodded, “I'm your biggest fan, don't you know?”  

“mhm of course I knew, reading august in two days must’ve been a new record.” the day lando commented on her instagram post saying he’d pre-ordered her book, she’d gone to her records of past books. he’d bought every book she’d ever read. every single one. even the special edition covers she’d published. 

never had anyone done a gesture like that for her. sure it might’ve been just because he’d like to read, but y/n wanted to live in a bliss where he did it for her.

watching the view change in front of her as they continued down the street she recognized where they’d been walking to. the beach. once they’d reached the place where the concrete ended and sand started. they both took off their shoes, lando grabbed hers holding them for her. 

the sand was soft to the touch, the beach was empty now and spanned for miles. waves crashed down onto the sand in a nice pattern of noise. it was pitch black except the moon which provided a nice soft light into the water far out. the breeze felt stronger here, y/n crossed her arms struggling to provide warmth to her bare arms.

the pair had taken a seat on the slightly wet part of the sand closer to the water. “it’s beautiful out here.” she commented. “like some shit you’d see in a rom-com.” a genre she knew too much about. 

“is this the part where I tell you you’re the only girl I’ve taken here?” lando said looking at her she could hear the smirk in his voice. 

y/n let out a laugh. “is this the part where I act surprised because you’re known for being such a ‘player’?” 

“I’ll do the whole yawn and arm over shoulder thing if you want, make this really realistic.” lando took off his black hoodie revealing a matching black t-shirt underneath. “here by the way.” 

he handed her the hoodie, “oh I’m fine.” she very clearly was not. she wanted to tell him to stop her some kind of hope, to not make her fall for him as she was now. 

“you so are not, you’re shivering and it’s freaking me out.” y/n wasn’t sure if she should’ve said thank you or been offended by ‘freaking him out’. she took the hoodie, it was soft fabric and smelt of his cologne, which smelt expensive. 

she put the hoodie on, relieved by the warmth she suddenly felt. after a while of chatting and laughing about stupid things like they used to, y/n comfortably rested her head on his shoulder, eyes feeling the need to shut but they wouldn’t like she wanted to be conscious for every moment of this, knowing she’d miss his comfort as soon as it was gone. 

“do you have to wake up for your flight early tomorrow.” he asked, his voice soft and he cautiously started to run his fingers through her hair, until she’d relaxed more and he was more confident with his innocent touches.

“mhm.” she mumbled. 

he carefully brushed the few knots in her hair, “should I take you home then it's getting late.” 

everything in her body was telling her to stay no, to stay there, she never wanted to leave. but her mind spoke differently, she had a book signing tomorrow she couldn’t miss her flight nor could she be too tired. she replied again, more disappointed than before, “yeah probably.”

𝜗𝜚˖ ࣪₊˚ yourusername posted

liked by yourbestfriend, mclaren, oscarpiastri and 856,756 others

yourusername last night in aus was well spent 🫶

tagged | @landonorris

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user34 OH the lando & y/n girlies are screaming rn

yourbestfriend oh my god you finally went outside 🤯

landonorris gotta make sure she gets some vitamin c every once in awhile

user54 i just know twt is going crazy

landonorris hope to see you in japan 🙏🫣

yourusername we’ll see 🤭

maxverstappen as a redbull fan I hope

user89 we are all living for your active era rn

user21 all her f1 posts having lando in them is making me cry they’re everything to me

user54 I’m getting 2019 lando y/n flashbacks

your bsf 🫶 sent you a text!

𝜗𝜚 ˖ ࣪₊˚ yourusername posted a story

seen by maxverstappen, lilymhe, davidmalukas and 645,765 others

landonorris replied to your story

𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚ ⊹ landonorris posted

liked by maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, yourusername and 972,342 others

landonorris another race done onto japan we go 😉 ( featuring special guest my celebrity crush )

tagged | @landonorris

view comments

yourusername omg I love when I see my fan pages in the wild 🤭

landonorris ok babe don’t push it 🥰

user53 babe?!!!

user76 they’re so in love it hurts

user32 getting his first podium of the season while she’s there she really is his lucky charm

user98 HIS LUCKY CHARM 😭😭

mclaren y/n should come to more races best race result so far nice job!

user43 even mclaren loves them 🙏

user58 their actually my faves

carlossainz I think I’m your idol actually 🤔

landonorris whatever helps you sleep at night

𝜗𝜚… tags , @whitcferrari @cedarbcws @c-losur3 @lclitaa @forurforeverwinter @stinkyjax @littlexscarletxwitch @spideybv28 @ijustgomessitupx

[etherealstar-writes]

ORDINARY LIFE | ARSENAL WFC X TEEN AVENGER OC | PT 1

pairings: arsenal women x teen avenger oc (platonic)

summary: in which a sixteen year old just wants to live an ordinary life away from all the superheroing madness and play football for her club, trying to hide her past as a former teen avenger from all her teammates.

part one: beginnings

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

Ameris Adarlan knew her life was anything but ordinary. She had grown up amidst the chaos of heroes and villains, her parents' affiliation with SHIELD and their close friendship with Tony Stark shaping her childhood in ways she never imagined.

From a young age, Ameris had been thrust into a world of secrets and danger, her parents' untimely demise serving as a stark reminder of the perils that came with their line of work. A planned fatal car accident that claimed their lives had left her ten year old self scarred, both emotionally and physically, the jagged line running across her left eyebrow a constant reminder of the tragedy that had torn her family apart.

Tony Stark, her father's closest friend, had then taken her under his wing, and Ameris grew determined to avenge her parents’ deaths, joining the Avengers at the young age of thirteen, intent on aiding them however she could.

Ameris didn’t have any powers that made her outshine like most of the other Avengers, choosing to remain in the shadows of the spotlight. But she did possess a special talent, the ability to predict the movement of others or objects by reading their body language and initial movement. 

While everyone around her told her that she was an Avenger prodigy, that she was gifted with this talent, and made her feel like that she should consider herself lucky because of this ability, no one knew how hard she worked on this skill and trained to be where she was at, spending years trying to read every individual’s mannerisms and body language.

But as the years passed, with each mission assigned to her remaining victorious, came the daunting realisation that their heroism came at a cost. A cost that Ameris couldn't bear to pay like her parents had.

So, at the age of sixteen, she had finally made the decision to leave it all behind. With a heavy heart and a determined spirit, she bid farewell to the Avengers and the life she had once known, hoping to seek solace in the simplicity of a world untouched by chaos and strife.

It was a decision born out of necessity and self-preservation, a choice to reclaim the appearance of a normal life she had been deprived of for so long. With London beckoning her with open arms, Ameris decided to move there and pursue a career in football, a passion she had shared keenly with her father, but hadn’t had the strength to pursue since his death.

Not until now.

And so here she stood, outside the doors of Arsenal Football Club, feeling a surge of anticipation course through her veins. The crisp London air filled her lungs as she took a deep breath, the cool breeze blowing her dark hair locks back.

She steeled herself for the new chapter that awaited her, ready to leave behind the shadows of her past, and entered inside. Making her way to the reception area, she greeted the staff with a warm smile, her nerves masked behind a facade of confidence.

"Hi there, I'm Ameris Adarlan," she said, offering a smile to the receptionist. "I'm a new signing."

"Ah, yes, Miss. Adarlan. Welcome to Arsenal,” The receptionist greeted her with a warm smile, her fingers flying across the keyboard before she slid a clipboard over to her to sign some papers. “I'm afraid the captain and vice-captain are currently tied up with the other new signings, but they'll be with you shortly."

Ameris shrugged nonchalantly. "No worries. I can wait."

The receptionist handed her a badge with her name imprinted on it, a small gesture that made Ameris feel oddly official. 

"Feel free to roam around the facility in the meantime," the receptionist told her.

Ameris nodded her thanks and set off to explore, her curiosity piqued by the prospect of getting to know her new surroundings. She passed the hallways with photos of the team framed each year, and couldn’t help but stop for a moment in front of the trophies’ display to admire it.

“Hey there!” 

Ameris shifted her gaze to the person that gained her attention, watching the brown-haired woman make her way towards her with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, dressed in the Arsenal training kit. 

“Hi,” Ameris greeted her with a sincere smile.

“I was excited when we were informed that we were getting a teenager signing, and an adorable kid, no less.” Ameris chuckled while the woman extended her hand politely. 

"I'm Steph, by the way. Welcome to Arsenal." Of course she knew who she was. She’d done her research on all of them. 

“Thank you. And I’m Ameris,” she replied back as shook her hand firmly, noting the genuine warmth in Steph's demeanour. “But I think you already knew that.”

“You’re right about that.” Steph grinned before pointing at Ameris’ badge that hung around her neck. “And I read your name on that.” 

“Oh, yeah.”

“Has Kim or Leah gotten to show you around yet?”

Ameris shook her head. “Not yet, no. They were still busy with the other signings.”

"Well, I’ve got nothing better to do, so how about I show you around? Consider it a little welcome gift from one teammate to another," Steph offered.

"Sure." Ameris smiled.

She fell into step beside Steph as they began their impromptu tour of the club. 

As they made their way through the training facilities and locker rooms, they came across Katie McCabe and Beth Mead, two of Ameris' new teammates.

"Hey there, newbie!" Beth greeted Ameris with a friendly grin. "I'm Beth, and this here is Katie."

"Hi," Ameris greeted them warmly, returning their smiles. "Nice to meet you both. I'm Ameris."

Katie's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she studied Ameris with interest. "So, what brings you to Arsenal, Ameris? You must be pretty talented to get signed at such a young age."

Ameris chuckled softly, rubbing the back of her neck in a modest manner. "I guess you could say I've had some practice. But honestly, I just love the game. Football has always been a passion of mine."

Katie nodded in understanding. "Well, you've certainly come to the right place. Arsenal is like a big chaotic family, and we're thrilled to have you join us."

With a smile of gratitude, Ameris felt a sense of warmth wash over her. Maybe, just maybe, she could find the ordinary life here she had always longed for.

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

hey everyone! i love reading comments and they really motivate me to continue writing so pls feel free to comment your thoughts <33

[liillyliilly]

Her Laughter

tsukishima kei x reader words; 9093 synopsis; They had been friends for too long. She knew too much. He knew too little.

Tsukishima was used to the attention he got from girls. It came with having an aura that practically screamed unattainable. It lured in confident women that thought they could break down his façade of seriousness. So, if he was feeling up to it, he would mess with them. Toy with their feelings before dropping them and picking up a new little game to play.

This annoyed the living hell out of y/n. Which pushed Tsukishima to continue what he did. It seemed like he got a nice rise out of seeing how pissed he could make y/n. Seeing as they were seatmates, it felt as if she was constantly trapped and suffocated by every new girl that tried to win his affections.

The pair even had to spend a large portion of their time with each other outside of school. Having her mom being extremely close friends with Mrs. Tsukishima sure messed up a large portion of the girl’s life. Yet, there was one Tsukishima family member that actually seemed to be a normal person. Akiteru. Akiteru was probably the longest crush that y/n had ever had. From the beginning of her first year at Karasuno High School, which was Akiteru’s third year, to currently as a third year practically infatuated with a university second year. But for some reason, her crush felt hollow. But she didn’t mind it so long as she still was happy when Akiteru was nice to her.

Tsukishima wasn’t oblivious to the way y/n acted around his brother, not by any means. If anything, Tsukishima was always aware of how y/n acted and felt. Whether she was happy, sad, or yes, even trying to flirt with his own brother.

“Wow! That’s so cool! But that sounds like an awful lot of work.” Y/n currently was resting her head in her hands as she pressed her elbows against the kitchen counter top, watching Akiteru making some stovetop ramen for dinner.

“No rest for the wicked huh?” Akiteru stirred the pot of noodles. His joking words causing y/n to laugh. Tsukishima was in a mood, sitting on the couch scrolling through the movie catalog. His ears finely tuned to the conversation happening nearly seven feet away from him. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek, biting down any words that threatened to bubble up from his throat.

He was the one that wanted to make y/n laugh like that, like she was lovesick and drunk on her own delight. He had managed to do that three times.

The first time was a long time ago, when they were both around eight years old.

“Kei, Kei, Kei, Ke-” Y/n was poking Tsukishima in the leg with a stick that she had found on the hike their families currently were walking on. The parents and Akiteru were walking far behind the two young kids, talking about, ‘grown up stuff’.

“What!?” He pulled off his headphones, and made a big show of turning off the music on his hand-me-down iPod from Akiteru. He actually didn’t have any music playing, and was using his headphones as a way to listen to y/n ramble about the pets she wanted to own when she got older.

“I was just wondering if you were planning on adopting a dinosaur when you get older.” Y/n kicked a rock and it fell down the cliff, bumping into a few trees, causing y/n to shudder as she imagined what would happen if she fell down from this height.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Tsukishima folded his arms, and turned his chin up.

“But aren’t all the dinosaurs’ dead?” Y/n dropped her stick, and opted for poking him in the chest with her pointer finger.

“When I become an archeologist, I’ll have Akiteru build me a machine to revive its bones. Then I’ll adopt it. Simple as that, stupid.”

“Stupid is a bad word Kei.”

“I don’t care.” Tsukishima had lightly pushed y/n on her shoulder. When she let out a scream, he knew that he messed shit up. He was sure that if he had known the word shit as an eight-year-old, he would have used it in this situation.

In one fluid motion, Tsukishima quickly grasped onto y/n’s hand and pulled her away from the edge and into his chest. When Y/n had started laughing, that same laugh that Tsukishima swore followed him in his dreams, Tsukishima raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Why are you laughing? You could have died y/n!” Tsukishima was still holding y/n close to him. He knew that she could probably hear his beating heart that was threatening to break his ribcage open.

“I’m laughing because you care about me Kei.” Y/n rubbed his head, effectively messing up his hair and messing up his composure. Tsukishima’s ears were red, and he was embarrassed but he was still refusing to let go of y/n, afraid that if he stopped hugging her, she would actually fall off of the cliff. And that he would lose her. As an eight-year-old, he silently promised himself that he would never, ever, lose her.

Akiteru set down the three bowls of ramen on the coffee table. He settled in on the left side of the couch. Tsukishima moved over from the right side so that he was in the middle, forcing y/n to sit on the right side, closer to him and away from Akiteru. Tsukishima prayed that his shuffling of the seating arrangement wasn’t scrutinized. When y/n opened her mouth, Tsukishima explained.

“You got the middle seat last week. It’s the best seat to watch movies. It's my turn.” Tsukishima laid back against the couch. Chewing on a bite of the noodles. Even though he was trying to outdo his brother for y/n’s attention, Tsukishima admitted that his brother made some killer ramen.

Y/n rolled her eyes and sipped on the noodle broth. When Tsukishima did the same his glasses fogged up from the heat that radiated from the soup. Akiteru's phone beeped, and when he opened and read the text he grimaced and let out a grumble.

“Sorry, I’ll have to reschedule movie night. Something came up at work. Manager needs me to cover for a flaky employee.” When Y/n shrugged, and stood up, Akiteru’s words rushed out. “No! I mean, no, L/n you should just stay. I mean, I know you were waiting all week to watch this movie, I would just hate to prolong your waiting.”

“No, it’s fine I can wait.” Y/n smiles as she reaches for her bag.

“I insist. Please, I need someone to watch Kei. I’m asking you, l/n, to please help me out here and just watch the movie.” Akiteru took her bag away and ran into the kitchen, setting the bag above the cabinets. Far from y/n’s reach. Only Tsukishima or Akiteru could reach up there. Y/n gasped and hit Akiteru in his arm.

“Akiteru!”

“Sorry, I don’t make the rules. Gotta go! Bye Kei! Have a goodnight!” Akiteru rushed out of the door and shut it with a light slam.

“Honestly, L/n, Akiteru paid for the movie. Just swallow your pride and watch it with me.” Tsukishima explained from his spot.

“Fine. I just have to use the bathroom real quick, and then we can watch it.” Y/n’s feet lightly pattered against the floor. Tsukishima let out a breath, putting a hand to his chest, sliding down the couch to slump in exhaustion. His phone buzzed, and as he read the message, he truly didn’t know if he wanted to punch or hug his brother.

Have fun, relax, and be polite to L/n. I think it's weird how Karasuno’s biggest playboy is a complete idiot when it comes to real feelings :0

The second time Tsukishima made Y/n laugh was when they were fourteen.

Y/n was sitting at the white clothed table, wearing the pink lacy dress her parents had picked out for her to wear at the wedding. They picked out pink lace because it matched with the bowtie Tsukishima’s parents had bought him. The wedding was for Y/n’s parents' cousin-in-law’s step-sibling's aunt. Playing with the fabric of his tie, Tsukishima continuously tried peaking glances at y/n. Her hair was done in a way that made him feel like he was on cloud nine. Her features looked unamused and bored, she seemed to be passing the time by seeing how slowly she could drink her glass of cranberry juice.

After the ceremony, and after the first dance, was when the boredom hit Tsukishima as well. Tsukishima had given up on trying to be discreet and decided to keep staring at y/n. Tsukishima followed her eyeline, to realize she was staring at the glass of champagne the newly wed wife was holding.

At this point in his life, Tsukishima had very poor impulse control. And his hormones were raging, or at least that’s what his mom said to him when he told her that he felt all fuzzy whenever Y/n hung out with him. Thinking, that if he managed to steal a bottle and share it with Y/n, then she would finally admit to having a crush on him, or something.

“Psst. Hey, Y/n.” Tsukishima kicked her chair lightly.

“What do you need Tsukki?” When Y/n turned around in her chair and faced him, he swallowed roughly and grabbed her hand pulling her up and into the chapel.

“Tsukki? What are you doing?” Tsukishima sat down in one of the pews, Y/n sitting down right next to him.

“Waiting for you to thank me profusely.” Tsukishima gave a smirk and wiggled his head in a teasing manner.

“Why would I be than-” Tsukishima pulled out the bottle of red wine he managed to snag from the kitchens. Y/n jaw dropped as she held the cold bottle in her hands.

“How did you...” She trailed off.

“I have my ways.” He shrugged as he snagged the bottle away and twisted the cap off. Taking a swig from the bottle, he puckered his lips together at the tart taste. His throat felt dry and scratchy. The drink made his mouth feel grainy.

“It can't be that bad, you big baby.” Y/n took it from him and took an equally large drink. When she coughed and hit her chest a few times, Tsukishima laughed, holding his stomach from how it was constricting due to his laughing.

They threw away the bottle by dumping the rest of the alcohol down the sink of the church bathroom. As they sat with their backs to the door, the dizziness of being drunk for the first time hit them both with a heavy wave.

“Y/n. I reaaalllyyy like you. I like you soooo much. It’s like my heart can’t even handle it.” He hiccupped. He rested his head in her lap, y/n twirled his blonde locks.

“Is that so?”

“Yuppers.”

Y/n laughed, slowly and quietly at first. Growing into a loud rumble that caused Tsukishima to feel like he could die right then and feel totally complete.

“Kei, we are so getting grounded.” Y/n rubbed her eyes, before her hand retreated back into his hair.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“You haven’t called me Kei since we were twelve and it's really hurting my feelings.” Tsukishima admitted.

“Oh, sorry. I’ll try calling you Kei more then.”

She didn’t even try to call him Kei. From age fourteen to now, it was only Tsukishima or in rare cases of friendly compassion a short and sweet Tsukki. When Tsukishima admitted that it hurt his feelings, he was being honest, and it still rang true.

Tsukishima was staring at the TV much harder than needed. He tried not to pay attention to all the little things Y/n was doing. The way she was breathing, and how it would hitch when the movie got intense, or how it would come out in a longing sigh during the romantic parts. The way she shifted her feet under her and how the couch would dip and move from her toes moving around in her socks. When the credits started to roll, y/n was snoring quietly, resting her head on the armchair hugging herself loosely.

Tsukishima wanted to kiss her.

Wanted to feel the way her soft looking lips would feel against his probably slightly chapped ones. He wanted her to put both of her hands on his head curling her fingers through his hair. Wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and never let go like when he was eight and had fallen in love. Wanted to giggle and be stupid with her like when they were fourteen and he admitted his feelings for her but she didn’t even notice because she was so far gone from the wine. Wanted to be close to her. Wanted to stop entertaining all the girls that filtered through his life like her current favorite song that changed every day.

Tsukishima wanted to stop being so dry witted and mean to her in class. He wanted to stop her from looking at him with her sad eyes when she tried comforting the last girl he had been talking to and then ghosted. He wanted to curl up in his bed and cry. He was tired, so tired of having to make her annoyed at him, but that was the only way to get her attention. He wanted her attention like he needed to breathe. Like she needed to be kind to others. Like Akiteru needed to be supportive and an example. Like everyone on his volleyball team needed to always try their best during games.

The third time that Tsukishima made Y/n laugh was when they were fifteen.

Class was slow. The windows were clouded and the corners fogged up every time someone exhaled. Outside, heavy rain was falling. Most kids had decided to skip school for the day in favor of staying comfortable in their pajamas' watching cartoons or doing homework for other missed classes. Yamaguchi was at home, he had texted Tsukishima saying that he should just come hang out with him, but Tsukishima had already received a text from his mom that he needed to walk home with Y/n because her family hadn’t bought any umbrellas and she would need to walk home with him.

Class was over and Y/n was frowning. The day was dreary because she couldn’t just sit outside and feel alive with the rain falling down her face. She loved the rain, and being stuck inside on such a perfect day for her was getting on her nerves. But also, the fact that she had to walk home with Tsukishima, who had been a real pain in the ass all week with his current girl. Tsukishima leaned against the lockers by the entrance as Y/n switched out of her school shoes into her normal flats.

“We’re gonna be late if you keep taking forever.”

“Late for what?”

“Late for me to care about you getting home dry any longer.” Tsukishima opened the umbrella and started making his way outside.

“Tsukishima!” Y/n groaned as she rushed to close her locker and match pace with the giant.

“Geez. You could have at the very least waited a minute longer.” She tugged her hood over her head.

Tsukishima stayed silent for most of the walk. When Y/n finally broke.

“If you aren't going to even try and make conversation, then just go ahead. I like the rain anyway.” Y/n folded her arms and huffed. She stopped walking and stood still. Tsukishima walked a bit further, just enough for Y/n to not be under the umbrella. When he noticed that she wasn’t next to his side, he stopped and went back for her, holding the umbrella over both of them as he faced her.

“I don’t have time for a Y/n tantrum. Let’s go.” He flatlined.

“And I don’t have time for a brooding Tsukishima.” Tsukishima felt his heartstrings pulling him closer to her. But he kept his distance.

“What’s up?”

“What?” Y/n shook her head, and tilted it at an angle that made Tsukishima want to put his hand on her cheek and run his thumb across her cheek.

“I'm not brooding right now. I’m talking to you right now. So, let's try again. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Just wondering why, a close family friend of mine is acting like an asshole to all the girl’s in our grade.” Y/n stuffed her hands in her pockets. Bouncing back and forth on the heels of her feet.

Tsukishima held back a smirk. She was playing a game with him. “Maybe they're just acting like that because it’s a nice way to pass the time?”

“I don’t think it's that.” She took a step forward.

“Oh, its most likely that.” He took a step forward. He could see the white mist of her exhaled breath. He could see the slight repressed intrigue and curiosity swirl in her eyes. He wondered if she could hear his heartbeat. He wanted to grab her hand and press it against his chest and yell at her, telling her that she was the one making his head spin and making his knees feel like they would give out any second because they felt like jelly.

“Wanna know another way to pass the time?” She reached out for his hand. He froze, closing his eyes. Her next words were whispered close to his ear. “Having you chase me in the rain.”

She ripped the umbrella from his hand and ran. It took him a second to catch on. But when he did, he bolted forward. When she looked back, she screamed because he was closer than expected. And then she started laughing. The same laugh he had been longing to hear for over a year since the wine incident.

Suddenly, everything they were angry with each other disappeared. Y/n stopped thinking about how much of a dick he was to people. Tsukishima stopped thinking about how much of a scaredy-cat he was for not just being kind to Y/n. They were just two teenagers running in the rain. Hair getting soaked and sticking to their faces. Feet slipping slightly against the wet concrete. The rain hitting the ground.

They were just two kids in love with life.

They never talked about that day. They just knew it existed in their memories of each other, being stored in the filing cabinets of their life.

As Y/n was snuggled up against the couch, Tsukishima wanted to just hold her. The TV screen had gone black. The only light was the dim hanging light in the middle of the kitchen. And for the first time in a while, Tsukishima was okay with the amount of attention he got from Y/n. He didn’t want any more or any less. He was just glad that he had her in his life.

Maybe, just maybe, one day, he would finally be able to tell her that he no longer liked her. But he loved her.

Movie night still seemed to be the only thing on Tsukishima’s mind. Various scenarios of different endings to the scene played in his mind. His favorite being the one where y/n took the first move and admitted that her crush on Akiteru was just a front so that Tsukishima didn’t realize that she liked him back. Sadly, her crush was still very much real, and very much an annoyance to Tsukishima. Which resulted in him being extra responsive to the countless girls who approached him to admit their affections.

He liked to mess around with the idea that they were y/n. He would try to find a similar trait, a similar physical feature, a similar anything to y/n. So that even for just a minute, he could have her attention. Whenever Yamaguchi was absent to class, Tsukishima would just sit in his own seat and wear his headphones. One hand would be toying with the wires connected to either speaker, while his other hand would rest on the very edge of his desk.

It was a smart move on his part. Because then, he could listen to the conversations y/n had with her classmates and yet seem like he was completely ignorant to anything happening on her side of the connected desks. He felt guilty about eavesdropping as often as he did, but he tried to reason his actions with empty excuses.

“L/n, you always talk about how annoying Tsukishima is, so why don’t you just ask our teacher to just move your seat?” Some girl who had previously confessed to Tsukishima in private complained to y/n. Tsukishima could tell that y/n was uncomfortable, when the girl had come up to her and started ranting y/n only let out forced laughs and dry responses.

“Well, I guess you could say that even though everything he does makes him seem like a huge jerk, he is still my friend.” Y/n spoke. Now, in any other case Tsukishima would have felt like he was being stabbed in his heart when y/n called him her friend. But in this situation, he felt relieved. She was defending him, even if it seemed like a half-assed response to the girl’s thinly veiled insult.

That was what played in his mind during volleyball practice.

“Tsukki! Hey! Tsukki!” Yamaguchi made his way to Tsukishima, a small blue towel on the back of his neck to catch the sweat from all the physical activity. Yamaguchi pulled his hair out of the small ponytail, and ran his hand through it.

“Yes?” Tsukishima started to unwrap the bandages from his fingers, dropping the fabric into his duffel bag that laid below.

“You’re close with that L/n girl, right?” Tsukishima felt his heart start to pound in his chest.

“Our parents are close, so by association, I guess we’re fairly close.”

Tsukishima wanted to go on a rant about how long he had been invested in his friendship with her. How she always managed to make his day even when they were fighting. How she would spend countless hours wasting her time watching TV on his family’s couch while he sat in his bedroom listening to her scream at the television shows for having incompetent characters. How she had tried to braid his hair once before a match but realized his hair was too short and then settled for putting it into a ponytail that ended up looking like an antenna on top of his head, when she pointed it out, she howled like a hyena. He wanted to say all of those things and more, but didn’t.

“Okay cool, because, well Yachi was wondering if she could go along with us to next month’s training camp. Yachi doesn’t want to be the only girl on the bus, and would like L/n to come along because she thinks she could handle the manager responsibilities well. And she wouldn’t admit it, but I'm sure Yachi would like to be L/n’s friend but is too scared to ask her.” Yamaguchi took a deep breath from his long explanation.

“I can ask.”

“Amazing. Cool, thanks so much Tsukki!” Yamaguchi waved goodbye as Tsukishima pulled his duffel bag onto his shoulder and made his way from practice back home.

At home, Tsukishima was greeted with two very different sights.

Y/n sitting in the kitchen, spinning around on the chair next to the counter. She was chewing on her pen, looking at a packet opened up to the middle. She had changed out of her school uniform in favor of some pajamas. It was one of Tsukishima’s old t-shirts that he had gifted to her as a gag gift for some Christmas that had gone as fast as it had come. She was wearing a pair of Akiteru’s old volleyball practice shorts, the ones that had holes on the thighs from all the times Akiteru had practiced receiving but ended up sliding across the gym floor. This was a pleasant sight, causing his dopamine levels to rise exponentially.

The second sight was Akiteru with a girl sitting in his lap. She was talking into his ear and playing with the hair on his nape. Akiteru looked, for some reason, really happy that this girl was there with him. Then Tsukishima thought about it for a moment, and realized that he would probably feel and look just as happy as Akiteru if it was Y/n sitting in his lap basking in his presence. This was an enviable sight, he wanted to be Akiteru and he wanted Y/n to be the girl. He had several questions as to why Y/n was at the Tsukishima household, and why Akiteru was with some strange girl.

“Oh hey, Tsukishima.” Y/n whispered. Waving him over. This was odd only in the way that it felt like Tsukishima was out of place. Like a spoon with a bunch of forks. Like a glass of apple juice amongst water. Like a boy with no idea what was happening in his own house.

“Wanna make a guess about whose parents decided it would be a good idea to take a two month-long trip? I’ll give you a big clue. The parents of the two blonde boys and the one h/c haired girl.”

“What...” Tsukishima, was for once, at a loss for a sarcastic comeback.

“Yup. My parents packed all my stuff up and left it in your guest room, they freaking took my house key and locked me out of my own house. Something about, ‘Letting you stay home alone when there are two perfectly great boys to make sure you stay out of trouble right there.’ It’s bullshit. But hey, I guess we both have to deal with our crazy parents.” Y/n’s mouth kept moving, but Tsukishima blocked her words out. He had to be going insane. He had to be going insane. This was not something that happened in real life.

Tsukishima dropped his duffel bag on the floor and went upstairs. Shutting his door with a slight slam. He sat on his bed and looked up at the ceiling. The glow in the dark dinosaurs that y/n had bought him for his eleventh birthday still stuck on. He wanted to take them off but just couldn’t do that because it would mean losing a part of y/n that lived in his room. When his phone buzzed, it was like breaking out of a trance.

Look Kei, I dont want to be in this situation either, but pls just be around me bc I dont think I can handle the weird smacking sounds coming from Akiteru and his girlfriend.

Did she mean to type Kei instead of Tsukishima? Was it a fluke? Before he had time to respond, his door opened and shut quickly.

“Geez, I thought I was going to be suffocated by the smell of their cologne and perfume. And why is your brother such a loud kisser? Does he have a vendetta against romance?” She moved around in his room like she had it memorized. Sitting down in his desk chair and resting her elbows on her knees. Her legs dangled slightly seeing as his chair was set to the tallest setting.

When Tsukishima finally made eye contact, he noticed the tears that had begun to create a sheen over her eyes. He looked away quickly and spoke.

“I assume he does have a vendetta against romance.” Y/n forced out a curt laugh. The tension in Tsukishima’s room was somewhat thick.

There were three times that Y/n had been in his room. The first time was when they were barely six years old.

“Why is your room the way it is?” Y/n tilted her head around, looking at everything with her big doe eyes. Akiteru was sitting on Tsukishima’s bed listening to music on his iPod, seeing as Tsukishima’s parents wanted him to hang out with Y/n and Tsukishima.

“Because it is.”

“That’s not much of an answer though Kei-Kei.” Y/n poked at a few of his dinosaur figurines.

“Stop calling me that.” Tsukishima stood up and fixed the arrangement of his toys before dragging Y/n down to the floor so that she wouldn’t keep messing with his stuff.

“Kei-Kei?” Y/n offered. Laying on her back, she extended out all of her limbs to mimic a starfish.

“Stop.”

“Kei-Kei.” Y/n sat back up and leaned forward, facing him.

“I said to stop!” He put his hands on her shoulders and put his face up close to her own.

“Kei-Kei.” Y/n mocked, moving her head from one side to the other for each syllable of the nickname. Tsukishima took his hands off her shoulders and pouted. At the same time, Akiteru got off the bed and tried walking out of Tsukishima’s room. But he tripped and accidentally bumped into Tsukishima.

Akiteru gasped.

Tsukishima and Y/n’s lips were touching. Akiteru ran out of the room with his eyes blown out wide. Tsukishima stayed still; y/n’s lips were sticky from her Chapstick and the feeling of resting his lips against hers was nice. Y/n immediately retreated her head away from Tsukishima’s. She looked wildly distraught. And in one instant she had begun to bawl. Tsukishima panicked.

“What's wrong?!”

“I didn’t want you to be my first kiss!” She said with tears streaming down her face, she kept trying to wipe them off but it began to irritate her skin and make her cheeks and eyes turn red.

“Hold on, I can fix it!” Tsukishima stood up and began searching his desk drawers. Pulling out the drawers rapidly, he stuck his hands in each of them feeling around. When he finally found what he was looking for he went back to Y/n and crouched down next to her.

“You should rub the eraser against your lips, and then it'll be like it never happened!” Y/n did as was suggested, once she felt satisfied with the erasing, she sighed.

“Good save there Kei-Kei.” She was still sniffling but had long since stopped crying. When she offered the eraser to him, he put it back into his drawer. “Aren’t you going to get rid of the kiss?” She questioned, again rubbing her eyes to get rid of the remaining wet spots on her cheeks.

“I don’t think I want to.”

The tension in the room snapped. Like when two people were tugging on two opposite ends of a rope, and the middle begins to slowly fray, and then as they kept tugging it to be more on their side, the rope rips in the middle and both people fall down due to the gravity of having the only thing keeping them upright breaking. Y/n put her head in her hands and her shoulders begin to shake. Slowly at first, like the fraying of the rope. Then faster, and her breath was reduced to sharp inhales, the ripping in the middle. And then finally heavy exhales combined with tears falling, the snap.

Just like when they were six years old, Tsukishima jumped up and tried to fix it. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, her head on his chest. The flames in his chest rise, the palpitating pain starting in his chest spreads out until every inch of his body is absorbed in excruciating pain. It didn’t hurt, it just ached. He wanted so badly to block out everything that was hurting her at the moment. But he knew that anything he would try to say would just come out sounding cruel in the moment.

She cried herself to sleep. Tsukishima was still holding her against his chest when he could hear the sniffles subside and become replaced with slow and balanced breathing. He stayed like that for a minute longer than needed. When he picked her up, carefully cradling her head and went to the guest room. Her stuff was indeed in the room, she had unpacked some of her school stuff as it was strewn across the desk. He laid her on the bed. Her body naturally cuddles up to one of the pillows. Tsukishima pulled the blanket hanging on the reading chair in the corner of the room and set it on y/n’s sleeping figure.

He stayed in the room for longer than would have been deemed appropriate. But his excuse was that he wanted to make sure she was still breathing. Her inhales and exhales are even and stable, not like the sharpness of when she was crying and choking on not having enough air get to her lungs. When Tsukishima walked out of her room, he shut the door as softly as possible.

He had two things to do.

Make sure y/n was okay.

Which was completed successfully.

The other thing was to beat Akiteru up.

“Bye! See you tomorrow then? Saturday at two! Love you!” Akiteru let out a love-struck sigh, resting his back against the front door.

“What is wrong with you?” Tsukishima said and though his words were aggressive, they came out calmly. But yet, each word seems to prick and scratch at Akiteru.

“Excuse me?” Akiteru’s mood dropped, and it was obvious.

“You really messed things up. Why the hell did you have to bring a girl over, when you knew that Y/n would be here. You do know that she is practically in love with you right?”

Akiteru’s mouth moved like a fish. It was moving but no words were coming out. Tsukishima’s next words were sarcastic and dripping with a jealous venom. “Perfect Akiteru, older brother extraordinaire, the best role model.”

“Kei.” Akiteru rubbed his temple, and walked towards Tsukishima.

“Don't call me that.” Tsukishima took a step back. Away from his brother, no scratch that, away from the man who made the love of his life hurt.

“But it's your name?” Akiteru reasoned. He didn’t try to take a step forward.

“I don’t want you tainting the way I've heard it said. You don’t get to say my name anymore. Not after you made y/n cry. She cried so hard I thought she was going to accidently hurt herself from how she was breathing.” Tsukishima’s glasses were fogging up, his fists clenched. But his voice stayed the same, calm and powerful. He was making sure his voice didn’t crack in front of Akiteru.

“She told me she had a crush on...” Akiteru was cut off when Tsukishima heard his words.

“So why did you have to go and be such an asshole?” Tsukishima’s voice cracked, but he kept his stance.

“I wasn’t being an asshole Kei.” Akiteru explained.

“Don't call me that.”

“Fine. But you do realize that I can't stop my life just for y/n, right? It isn’t going to always be about what she wants?” Akiteru tried to reason.

“It is for me! It's always going to be about her. It always has been.” That’s when the tears started to fall. They blinded him.

“Then why don’t you let her know that? Because it honestly doesn’t seem like you care about her when you toy around with a new girl every week.” Akiteru was done giving his words a soft touch, these words were hard hitting and so true that it made Tsukishima want to puke.

“Because that’s the only way to get her to pay attention to me! Don’t you see?” Tsukishima stood back up. “The only way to get her attention is for me to show her that I'm wanted by other girls.”

“That’s not how it is and you know it.” Akiteru pushed past Tsukishima and walked upstairs to his room. Leaving Tsukishima to stand alone in the hallway.

As the sun peeked over the rim of the world, people awoke and rose from their death-like slumber. Tsukishima had fallen asleep as soon as he put his head on his pillow. When he woke up, he looked at his phone and realized that Yamaguchi had called him over ten times and his messages were all about Y/n.

(TSUKKI) (Did you ask her yet?) (Ask her pls) (Ask her!!!!) (Yachi is on my tail rn pls ask and get an answer) (Oh r u in one of your moods about her rn?) (Did you try and be all romantic and shit and it didn’t turn out the way u wanted) (Lol jk) (I know u wouldn’t do that) (But yeah, just ask her’)(thankzzzzz)

When Tsukishima put on his glasses, he was about to type in a reply, when there were seven knocks on his door. Y/n. His answer came out before he could realize he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Come on in!” When Y/n opened the door, she had two plates of food balanced on her hands and her hair was slightly damp.

“Oh.....hey, I brought food. But if you want, I can just leave it here....” Y/n trailed off.

“No! I mean, no, you can stay. I’ll put on a shirt.”

Tsukishima stood up and went over to his closet and slipped on a shirt, then he went back and sat on his bed. Y/n was sitting crossed legged in his beanbag and chewing on some of the strawberries on her plate. Tsukishima did the same, crossing his legs and eating the fruit.

“I'm sorry for yesterday. I didn’t mean to have a breakdown. I shouldn't be getting emotional over nothing.” Y/n toyed with a piece of her hair, looking down at her plate. When she saw Akiteru kissing the girl, she wasn’t jealous. She imagined that it was her and Tsukishima. She tried blinking repeatedly to get the image out of her head. But it stuck. And she realized. She should have realized sooner.

“Yamaguchi was wondering if you would come along for the volleyball training camp next month?” Tsukishima said. When he realized what he did, he honestly wanted to slap himself in the face. He completely ignored what Y/n was trying to say, and he felt embarrassed.

Y/n raised her eyebrows in shock, but then gave a shy smile. “Sure, it’s not like I’ll be doing anything else.” Tsukishima swallowed thickly, and nodded.

The second time Y/n was in his room was when they were ten years old.

Tsukishima hated when his parents held dinner parties, and he still does. But because of his slowly growing crush on Y/n he seemed more willing to help out with the party. When the Tsukishimas’ lined up by the front door, wearing their best dress, welcoming the guests with a curt bow, Tsukishima thought he would drown from all the people invading his space. Seeing Y/n hop inside his house was a refreshing breath of air.

How was he supposed to focus on what his mom was trying to say about the steak when Y/n was sitting right there. Right next to him, and being so perfect that he thought he would just burst from pure happiness. Y/n had been on a vacation for most of summer, so he hadn’t seen her for a long time.

She had gotten taller, but so had he. She had gotten prettier, and he still felt like he had a baby face. She had gotten more polite and was able to find the ample time to give her opinion during the conversation between the grownups, while he still struggled to refrain from making snarky comments about the lives of his parents' friends.

So, he thought he was dreaming when Y/n made eye contact and moved her eyes to look over at the stairs when the adults brought out the alcohol. Swiftly, they made their escape to his room. Tsukishima was glad that his parents had forced him to clean his room before the party.

“Kei, I thought I was going to just die from all the talking about taxes.”

“But, Y/n, you seemed to be so good at finding exactly what to say. Like, all the time.”

Tsukishima stood in the middle of his room, shuffling his feet awkwardly as Y/n held her hands behind her back and pursed her lips together as she looked around his room.

“I guess. But it's pretty stupid that adults don’t talk about cool things anymore.” Y/n heard her name being called from downstairs. “Kei, promise that even when we are old and wrinkly and gross, that we won’t have nothing to talk about?” Y/n held out her hand, and Tsukishima gripped it tight as they shook seven times.

“Okay, now that you promised Kei, you can't ever break it okay?”

“I know.” Tsukishima smiled as he waved goodbye to Y/n as she exited his room.

His promise echoed in his brain as a month passed with Y/n living in his house. Conversations were kept to a minimum, as they each worked on homework separately. Tsukishima, though, often got flustered when he saw her bras hanging up on the drying rack in the laundry room. Other than seeing bras, or an occasional pair of underwear, he was sure that he could make it the month without being forced into any awkward situations. Weekly movie night was practically the same, except for the addition of Akiteru’s girlfriend. But, halfway through each of the movies the couple would start kissing and it would disturb Tsukishima and Y/n, who then retreated to their own rooms.

When Tsukishima woke up to his alarm at around five thirty in the morning, he laid in his bed for a while just staring at the glow in the dark dinosaurs. He could hear Y/n shuffling downstairs with her suitcase, and he looked over to his own suitcase. For a while he pretended that this was normal. To have the girl that he had been in love with since he was six-year-old living in his house. When he went downstairs, Y/n was yawning and looking through her backpack to make sure that she had everything for the week long training camp. His last training camp as a high schooler. He was a third year now. So was Y/n. But it hadn’t quite hit him until he was at the school with everyone waiting to get onto the bus.

“Since you are all Karasuno Volleyball members, I thought it would be a fun idea to pair you up for the bus ride, and for any activities that we have planned while we are down in Tokyo. While this is still training camp, we want this to be memorable. Especially for our intermittent manager, L/n.” Coach Ukai stated dully, as if he was reading off cue cards written by Takada which he was indeed doing.

“-And finally, we have Tsukishima and L/n as our last pair. Okay get your asses on the bus, I’m too tired for this right now.”

Getting onto the bus last, Tsukishima took both his and Y/n’s suitcases and put them on the overhead carrier. Y/n seemed stunned by the action then just shook her head and slipped into the row, sitting in the window seat. Tsukishima hardly got any sleep during the night and was on the verge of falling asleep. Nodding his head before flinching and lifting his head back up. There was a seat in-between Tsukishima and Y/n, where they set their backpacks down. Tsukishima leaned his head back onto the seat, but after about ten minutes his neck started to hurt. So, he just let out a low groan of agitation.

Whilst Tsukishima was going through his mini freak out trying to be comfortable enough to sleep, he didn’t notice as Y/n grabbed the bags and set them down by her feet. Clearing her throat, Tsukishima looked over to her with furrowed eyebrows and a sour face.

“Kei,” Tsukishima felt his heart jump into his throat. “C’mere.” Y/n reached over and pulled his head down, after he was resisting for a few seconds, Y/n clarified.

“Rest your head in my lap, you clearly didn’t get any sleep last night. I’ll play with your hair like when we were younger.” Tsukishima wanted to refuse; he really did. But she was saying everything in the same gentle tone that she reserved for first years or the animals she came across. Once her hand went to his fringe, he was putty.

“Only because I'm tired.” He explained as he rested his head on her lap.

“Whatever you say, Kei.”

In almost no time, Tsukishima fell asleep. But instead of a dream, it was a memory. The memory of the third time Y/n went into his room.

They were sixteen and stupid. He had another layer though, he was sixteen, stupid, and mean. Second year had been a bitch so far. Tsukishima hadn’t even got seated in the same row as Y/n. Instead, she got seated next to some flirt on the basketball team. Now, there weren’t people taller than Tsukishima typically, but over the summer Ito Yuuta grew five inches and was two inches taller than Tsukishima.

Tsukishima didn’t want to accept the fact that Y/n was just being nice to Ito Yuuta, because Ito was, in the simplest terms, an ass to Tsukishima. So anytime he saw them talking, it triggered something in Tsukishima. So, his own mean ways came back with a passion. He led on more than three girls at a time the week that he caught Ito leaning in far too close to Y/n and made her laugh.

Tsukishima knew it was wrong. He knew he was playing with fire when Ito’s first year little sister tried to get Tsukishima’s attention. He knew it was bad news to break her heart. He knew it was worse news that he had done it right in front of Ito himself.

“I’m not looking for anything serious right now. Bye.” Tsukishima left Ito’s sister standing by the school entrance with her jaw slack and her hand covering her mouth. Ito was fuming. He marched into class and ripped Tsukishima’s headphones right off.

“What the hell. You can’t just do that to a first year!” Tsukishima stood up and ripped his headphones from Ito’s hands.

“I just did.”

“Screw you Tsukishima. You're just a sad bastard because Y/n wouldn’t give you the time of day if you begged.” Ito huffed and pointed directly to where Y/n’s desk was.

“What?” He spat out.

“That's right, half of the school knows about your constant boner for the only girl who doesn’t give a flying shit about you.” Ito pushed Tsukishima in the chest before scoffing and walking out of the class. Tsukishima just stood there. Silent. Yamaguchi tried to talk to him but Tsukishima just snapped at him too.

Tsukishima walked out of class and to Y/n’s clubroom. When he saw her sitting down at a table silently gluing pieces of magazines onto a cardstock poster, he wanted to stop what he was going to do. But he was furious.

“You told him?” Tsukishima yelled. He was glad that it was just Y/n in the clubroom. Y/n flinched at the sudden screaming. He felt guilty immediately.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Tsukishima?” Y/n tried to get closer to him, but he pulled away from her.

“Oh, I'm sure you don’t know. Hell, Y/n.” Tsukishima stormed out of the clubroom and went straight home. He didn’t care if the school was going to call his parents, he was fuming and the only thing running through his veins was hatred.

He spent the entire day blasting music through his headphones, his eyes shut tight. The music was so loud that he didn’t even notice Y/n opening his bedroom door.

When she taps him on the shoulder he flinches at the sudden contact. He takes off his headphones and growls his words, “What do you want?”

“I want you to explain what happened in the clubroom.” She sat down on the edge of his bed and looked straight into his eyes.

This was the first time in what felt like forever that Y/n had talked to him. But he only had himself to blame for that, he was the one who pushed her away, he was the one who chose to stay away from her once he saw how she treated Akiteru. He was the one who was giving her the silent treatment.

And for once, Tsukishima wished he was anyone else at this moment.

“Do you really not see it?”

“How can I see when you’re covering my eyes?” Y/n refuted. Her analogy was confusing and didn’t clarify anything to Tsukishima.

“You never promised back that you would talk to me. Do you remember? We were ten years old, and you made me promise.” Tsukishima was tired of not having her attention. He was tired of it. He wanted her to talk to him. He wanted her to actively search out for him and ask about his day. He just wanted to have her be there for him. But how could he expect that from her when he was never there for her?

“I don’t remember that Tsukishima.” Each of her words was like an arrow was shooting through his heart.

He got up from his bed and gently, with as little force as possible shoved her out of his room. Sixteen-year-old Tsukishima wanted to grab her hands and yell in her face that he loved her. He wanted to say, I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Because saying that would make the conversation interesting, it would entertain Y/n. Because they would be talking about his love instead of taxes.

That was the worst night of his life. Tsukishima's memories loved to play harsh tricks on him by creeping up when his mentality and esteem were going from low to lower.

The bus droned on, and despite everyone’s attempt to sleep Kageyama and Hinata were still talking loudly to the first years about how cool their seniors had been.

She was slightly twisting his hair, her pointer finger grabbing small tufts and looping it around her finger before sliding her hand out, leaving miniature curls. Tsukishima, even on a bus ride, had always been a sleep talker.

He awoke when he felt her poking him in his cheek. When he turned his head to look up at her, she was grinning.

“I love you too Kei.” She whispered as her hand ran through his hair. “Your sleep talking habit has gotten worse over the years.” She mused, giving him a few pats on his head.

And suddenly every single one of Kei’s favorite memories came rushing back to him. The memory of his first kiss with Y/n. The memory of her faking falling off a cliff when they were eight years old. The dinner party where she made him promise to always have something to say. The drunk confession when he was fourteen-year old. The chasing and running in the rain at fifteen. His five favorite memories, bursting into vivid color.

Y/n didn’t know what possessed her to utter the words. She knew it was wrong to say that to him. She knew that her love for him would only seem to rebound from his brother. She was a jerk to do that to him. And she was completely aware of it. But she did love him.

She loved him when she realized she didn’t love Akiteru. She wanted to believe that she loved Akiteru because she didn’t want to say that she loved Kei. Kei played around too much, so she knew it would only hurt her to like him. She needed someone secure. And at the time that person was Akiteru. But once she saw him kissing another girl, she realized she wasn’t jealous.

She felt happy for Akiteru. When she pictured it as Kei however, only then was she jealous.

Kei sat up fast, his hands running to cup her face. His words were practically buffering in his brain as he tried to come up with a sarcastic comment. But that didn’t fit right for a moment like this.

“I finally, finally, have your attention, right?”

Some years later, and after a lot of growing up, life finally clicked.

"I guess you did end up with a pet dinosaur Kei." Y/N traced the outline of the label in front of the ancient bones. She was wearing his Sendai Frogs jersey.

"He's not a pet, he's a testament to nature." Tsukishima slipped his arm around her waist, slipping cold fingers under her shirt to rub her hip. Goosebumps appeared for a moment, then dissipated.

In three weeks they would get married. In four, their apartment would be ready to move into. In one hundred fifty-six weeks, Y/N agreed that she would consider, maybe, having a kid.

"Did you like the game?"

"I loved the game, you were so cool! Which is almost never the case." His face hurts from how hard he's been smiling lately.

"You don't have to work, you know." He commented when he saw her scrolling through her phone calendar, purple events of her job at the weather forecasting station. She liked being a meteorologist, she was always the first to know when it was going to rain now.

"You're so annoying." Tsukishima kissed her, getting a laugh and a smile in response. He continued the tour around the museum, giving her more details than any other tour he had given. His favorite relics, his least favorite place to clean, the place he most wanted to make out with her. When they took a pause, she was playing with his hair at the nape of his neck as they were sitting in front of a painting.

Tsukishima Kei was used to the attention he got from L/N Y/N. It came from having an aura where he radiated love for her.

[mosaickiwi]

(sorry for any mistakes, English is not my native language) Hello, I hope you are doing well! Can I ask you for a drabble about the wedding day of an emotional MC who burst into tears because she thought that this day would never come and REDACTED, but without the “lavish ceremony” (lots of guests, wedding suits, huge celebration, etc.) (please forgive me, I hope I was able to express myself clearly, thank you very much and have a nice day!) ฅ'ω'ฅ

!!!

By law I must post wedding fic on Valentine's Day!!!

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

~Wedding Day~

You nervously toyed with the ring in your palm, heart racing so hard it hurt. It was still difficult to believe what was happening. This was happening.

It was the same golden ring your partner had worn since you first met him. There wasn't a moment you ever saw them without it as he changed from a shy, stuttering mess in a cardigan to the clingy, dark-haired brat of a man you fell in love with more and more each day. Although the amount of rings they wore had grown.

That fateful day on the playground was something you couldn't even remember, and from what your companion told, you didn't want to. The second try was a far better memory for the both of you anyway. You were the one who proposed that time, catching them by complete surprise with the confidence you never usually had to ask anything of him. But you managed to do it.

And now you were the one who would put a ring on their finger.

“We haven't even started the vows,” [REDACTED] quietly said, pulling you from your thoughts. “Y'can’t be cryin’ just yet, Angel.”

“Am I crying?” The words came out hoarse from your already tightening throat. You hadn't realized. Sure enough, hot tears were streaming down your face as he gently wiped at them with his thumb. 

You tried to calm down, gazing up at him to distract yourself. Their voice had the same familiarly teasing tone it always did, but you could tell from the soft quiver to his lower lip that he was holding back his own tears.

“Yeah, it’s—” He let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, then hurriedly pushed his dark hair out of his reddening eyes. You wanted to tease him back about it, but you knew if you tried to speak again the tears would come flooding even worse. Another few moments passed as you both tried to collect yourselves.

Surprisingly, it took him a little longer. The tears on your cheeks had long fell and dried while he stood in front of you, eyes shrouded behind their bangs.

But after one more unsteady breath, he seemed to find his way again and look at you. “Are you ready?” they asked, a shakiness to their hands as he reached for the dangling chain around your neck—the necklace he’d given to you months ago once he’d found the courage to say yes to your proposal.

With your anxious nod of approval, he continued. Cool fingertips brushed at your collarbone, finding the silver clasp at the back of your neck and releasing it with a faint clicking of metal. The necklace fell loosely in his hands as he pulled it away. The golden ring easily slid from the chain and he rolled it in his fingers for a long moment, staring at it silently.

They were noticeably calmer this time, with a trembling smile that reached their eyes as he took your left hand and repeated himself. 

“Ready?”

[everparanoid]

Make me lose my breath, make me water ┃Wriothesley

pairing: f!reader x wriothesley

genre: fluff , NSFW

rating: 18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

tags: Cunnilingus, consent is hot, Reader is from Natlan, cuffs used inappropriately, Body Worship, My First Smut, Fontaine is France but it's not but it is, PWF, PWP, Mutual Pining, No use of y/n, Reader is Not Traveler (Genshin Impact), Creampie, biting kink, Written After 4.1 Update, Minor spoilers for 4.0 quest, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Light Bondage, light orgasm denial

wordcount: 6.1k

synopsis: The notorious Duke of the fortress of Meropide hasn't been on his A-game lately, and it shows.

Originally posted: 25.10.23 on AO3

a/n: I am now reposting my AO3 stuff onto tumblr. If you know me....no, you don't. ;) Also check out my AO3 for more wriothesley fics.

Song Inspiration: 'Water' by Tyla.

Three quick knocks rattled the door to his large office. The sound echoed up to the second floor where his desk resided.

“Come in,” Wriothesley said not looking up from his papers.

Wriothesley was a busy man. Well, being the Duke of the self-running, man-powered Fortress of Meropide wasn’t an easy job. It wasn’t exhausting either, but that was beside the point.

He took a slow prolonged sip from his teacup. The second sip in the last hour; the flavoured water had long since cooled from the general chill in the office. Not that he could feel anything beyond the normal chill of the underwater Fortress; and with the added benefit of his cryo vision he considered himself well-suited for the climate. That didn’t mean he didn’t miss the sun. Although, he could see the sun whenever he found a reason to leave the fortress, which he often didn’t.

He sighed for the fifth time that hour.

“I hear you’ve been doing that a lot,” You said ascending the spiralled staircase.

He paused and lowered his teacup, placing it on the small pile of report papers he was using as a mat. One side of his lips raised threatening to become a half smile. He quickly wiped it away.

“Oh? Have I now?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said, your voice smooth and confident. “I think I’m going to have to report you to Sigewinne.”

“Am I to assume she isn’t the one who sent you?”

His eyes met yours as you arrived atop the stairs, a hand on your hip and that sassy look in your eyes that he had grown fond of. He realised now why he had been so distracted.

He missed you.

You often frequented the fortress. First as a commissioned messenger between Wriothesley and Neuvillette, then a ‘convict’, and after that a friend and now… he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to complain about the company. It was nice having someone as into tea as he was. Not that he would admit it, but it got lonely in the Fortress sometimes. More so since he met you.

“What? You afraid of a couple of stickers?”

“You know about that?” he grumbled, glancing at the pile of crumpled Melusine stickers littering the side of his desk, freshly pulled off the back of his coat.

“I have ears everywhere, Your Grace,” you smirk, withholding the crucial fact that you were the culprit providing the stickers for Sigewinne and her Melusine friends. They paid you back in giggles and smiles, and just the joy on their small faces was enough for you.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You probably know more about what’s happening in my humble home than me,” he said. Only a half lie on his part. You had an aptitude for making tough things bend to your will. Him being the toughest of things in question. He dismissed the thought of you flashing that blinding smile at anyone other than him.

Your shoulders rose and fell as a melodic laugh left your lips and graced his ears. If he could keep your voice in a bottle, he would.

You shook your head and pushed off the railing. His attention remained on you as you took a seat on the settee a bit away from his desk.  His throat—as if he hadn’t just taken a sip of his cold tea— felt overwhelmingly dry. He cleared it gently and picked up his teacup.

“How’s the Traveler and Paimon?” he asked, taking a sip.

The flavoured water was colder. He needed to calm down lest he froze the entire thing. He imagined you would be the only one to find amusement in him sipping ice.

You crossed your legs, and your skirt rode up. He looked away respectfully, much to his dismay and the favour of his quickly deteriorating will. He didn’t remember when it happened. When he started seeing you as more than just the middle woman between Neuvillette and himself; more than just a pawn in this game against the fatui, but now he found himself knowing the way your cheek dimpled slightly only on your right cheek when you laugh; how the skin around your eyes crow when you yawn or squint; how you change to fix your posture every thirty minutes when you’re lost in a book, and your neck starts to get sore, and your lower back begs to be stretched out. He pulled himself out of his thoughts before they had a chance to spiral further.

“They send their regards and a thank you for your help with ‘the situation,’” you said making air quotes. You didn’t mention how you didn’t plan to return to them for a while, but some things were best left unsaid with Wriothesley.  

Wriothesley nodded and gestured for you to join him in for some tea.

“If you have some time, of course,” he finished.

“Of course, If you are offering,” you responded. 

You went to stand but Wriothesley beat you to it. Thankful for the excuse to busy himself with something other than your smouldering presence. If he was an icy avalanche, then you were like a raging inferno, melting him into warm water. Perhaps it had something to do with the pyro vision dangling from your hip. He glanced at the vision and caught a glimpse of your bare legs. He froze, curious about what colour you might be wearing underneath your skirt: black, white, blue, red? Instead, he was beyond relieved when he saw black shorts. He breathed a sigh. That’s so you.

“I can heat the pot, you know?” you say, growing increasingly more tired of his strange mood and equally as obscure silence. Never had Wriothesley sighed so much. Honestly, you never would have considered him a sigher; more a hmpher or a quiet snickering type.

You and everyone in Fontaine who had the pleasure or misfortune—mostly the misfortune—of knowing the Duke, knew that recently he had been off. In truth, your visit hadn’t been to express Neuvillette’s message (though that made a great cover). No, you were there because of a chain of strange letters from Sigewinne, given to you by an equally as annoyed Clorinde, telling you of the Duke’s bizarre behaviour. According to these letters, he was more attentive than usual. He had appeared around the fortress checking in on the production zones and the inmates an alarming number of four times in the last month, nearly causing several heart attacks amongst the inmates, which as a result caused Sigewinne to be on high alert from all the overworking; he hasn’t been partaking in as many fights in the ring, and he hasn’t been drinking as much tea.

It was the last two on the list that shocked you the most and was most of the reason why you were there now. Wriothesley not drinking tea? Was Fontaine’s archon a fraud?

Uncrossing your legs, you stood and approached him. Placing a hand on the teapot, you heated the water with your vision.

“Let me do that," you said.

You sounded more breathless than you had intended to, but being so close to him does that to you. He always managed to take your breath away, but you had stupidly thought that with time those senseless reactions would die upon learning more about the mysterious brutish duke. The way all crushes faded when the mystic i.e., the lack of information and the delusions of projection, disappeared. Instead, it seemed to have only worsened. A butterfly somersaulted in your stomach when you accidentally brushed your hand against his.

Wriothesley stiffened. The touch went straight to his gut.

“Why are you here?” he responded smoothly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Not that he was concerned about why you were here—he couldn’t be happier—but you were supposed to be away for the next six months on a quest with the traveler to your home region, Natlan. Had Sigewinne called you back out of concern for him? He had to be more careful around the small nurse in the future.

“Your tea collection isn’t as depleted as usual,” you observed, staring into the box filled with other miniature boxes of tea, skilfully deflecting the question.

“An interrogation. You’re making me nervous,��� he joked. “I am a busy man, I don’t always have time for tea.”

The look you fixed him with was not amused.

“You always drink at least three cups a day,” you said putting stress on the ‘at least.’ If it wasn’t tea, it would be a terrible addiction.

“Wow, you’re counting? I’m impressed.”

“Which flavour do you want?”  you said, ignoring him.

“The special blend.”

Without a second thought, you plopped the tea bag into the teapot and left it to brew.

It was your favourite, and that is why he chose it. He was more of a black tea or green tea kind of person, but the special blend he had made specifically for you. You didn’t know that though; you didn’t have to, he enjoyed hearing your quiet hums of happiness with each sip. It was great fodder for his late-night thoughts.

His heart warmed, as the skin around your eyes crowed the way he loved. Loved? He cleared his throat.

“You aren’t booking yourself as many fights. Which I would be happy about if I thought it didn’t directly correlate to why you’re acting so strange,” you lectured, and to him, you sounded like a particular short blue-haired Melusine.

“I can’t help but feel that you are worried about me,” he jested.

“As anyone would be about a friend,” you said.

Friend? Yes, that was what you were. Friends.

“Friends. Yes,” he agreed albeit stiffly.

You gave him a cautious side-eye unsure as to why his tone hurt you.

The word left a bitter taste in Wriothesley’s mouth and when you offered to fill his cup again, he accepted. Suddenly needing the soothing numbing effects of his tea more than ever. You topped up his cup before you poured the heated water into the teacup that had unintentionally become yours.

 Wriothesley didn’t let anyone else use it. It was superstitious really, and he didn’t consider himself a superstitious person. However, he worried that if he let anyone else use it you suddenly won’t come back one day. Not that you would be able to tell the difference if he did let someone else use the cup; all the teacups he owned looked exactly alike, but yours was different. It was a cup with a little chip on the rim near the handle from when you decided to have your tea with Neuvillette, Clorinde, the traveler and himself after the recent troubles with the Fatui. Your cup had chipped due to the heat of your hand; he could recall the horror on your face when he informed you how much each cup cost after letting you ramble on about owing him another cup.

You eventually fell into a comfortable silence sitting together on the settee.

“Clorinde has been visiting you a lot recently,” you said from behind your teacup. You took another sip.

Wriothesley recalled his earlier meeting with the champion dualist.

“Yes, we had some tea.”

“Really?”

“Jealous?”

You turned away.

“There is no need to be, I assure you,” he said, feeling a deep sense of relief at the way you seemed so bothered by his meeting with your mutual friend. The same friend who had been lecturing him about his ‘mutual’ feelings for you. Perhaps it was because of your reaction, that he realised that Clorinde might have been right. Or he was delusional? Maybe it was both.

Wriothesley placed his mug down on the coffee table. His hand brushed your bare thigh and you both jolt.

“Who says I am jealous?” You snapped, your lip twitching.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because your lip twitches when you’re upset, and your pyro vision makes you heat the things around you without abandon. Your eyes lose that spark which makes them look like the spotlights guarding Meropide, and you refuse to look at me because you know I’ll see right through you. And I do. I see you.”

He took another sip from his tea, pretending to not notice your tea bubbling in your hand, and the crack growing on the side of the teacup.

“It’s not nice to make jokes like that, Your Grace,” you said nervously.

Your eyes darted about the office settling on anything but him. The bookshelves looked fuller than usual. Has he been reading more books?

“Indeed. It is not but come on you should know me better than that by now. I never joke about things like this,” he said. His voice was clear and sincere. “Is it so strange that I would want to give a few words of praise out of genuine adoration?”

Especially since he saw the way you’re reacting; he knew that it was real and not a fantasy from his misguided thoughts. He wouldn’t lose this opportunity to make his feelings clear. He was a straightforward guy, after all. When he knew what he wanted was within his reach he wouldn’t simply pass it up. It would be unjust. He wanted to watch you smile, to be the one that caused that smile; he wanted to be the first person you went to when something good happened in your life; he wanted to feel your skin and not just in passing touches; he wanted to let it scold him, to embrace the flames.

“Ah, it seems I have ruined the mood,” he said smoothly.

He stood.

You went to stand too, but when you did the boiling liquid in your teacup splashed your hand. You hissed and dropped it. The porcelain shattered against the metal ground; the liquid spilt everywhere.

Wriothesley sat back down on the settee and took your warm hand in his immediately not sparing a second to glance down at his soaked boots. They encased yours and worked to chill the burn; one of the many benefits of having a cryo vision. The two of you couldn't be any more different. Fire and ice co-exist? Impossible.  Unimaginable. Dangerous. The tenderness in which he held your hand sets your heart ablaze as if it wasn’t already. Had he been telling the truth? You knew the Duke better than most, and with that knowledge you know he wasn’t the type to lie about that, but did he mean it? Could he mean it?

“I’m sorry,” you said.

Wriothesley’s attention remained on the forming boil on your soft skin. He soothed it gently, trying not to give you frost-burn. Thankfully the natural heat of your skin stopped his cryo from hurting you further.

“For what?” he responded softly, bringing your hand up to his lips and breathing out cool frosty air. You felt like mush, and if it weren’t for the dull ache in your hand you would have snatched up the opportunity to run said hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. It always looked so soft and maybe he would allow you to touch it.

You pulled a face between flustered and self-loathing.

“That was one of your expensive teacups,” you managed to choke out.

He continued to blow cool air onto your hand.

“There will be other teacups,” he says, his lips barely an inch from your skin.

You wanted to melt on the spot.

“But—“

He sighed and said your name sternly looking up at you through the haze of dark lashes.

“Why would I worry about a teacup when you are hurt?” he asked and lowered your hand from his lips. “In any case, I should apologise for ruining a perfectly good meeting. If you have said all you need to say then—”

You waved your hands, flabbergasting him as you snatched them from his cool encasing, momentarily forgetting about the burn, and cutting him off mid-speech.

“No, you didn’t,” you yelped.

He half smiled at the scarlet tint of your ears, and taking your burnt hand back into his, he proceeded to gently apply cryo to the festering burn.

“Ah, is that so?” he chuckled. “Alright then, how will you pay me back?”

“Huh?”

“You broke my favourite teacup, after all. So—“ he said your name with a hint of mischief in his smooth voice. “How will you pay me back?”

“That’s not fair!” You straightened in your seat. “How can that be your favourite teacup when they all look the same? Are you just saying that to make me feel worse than I already do?”

He cocked a brow and tugged you forward. You fell into him, your free hand coming to rest on his lower abdominal. Your nose brushed his, and you felt his cool breath against your cheeks. His breathe smelt of spearmint. Your lips twitched and you tried to focus on the scar under his eye (the one you’ve always wanted to trace with the tips of your fingers) so as to not meet his icy blue stare, or to glance down at the obvious smirk on his lips. You wanted to kiss him; you could kiss him; would he let you kiss him?

Wriothesley watched your tongue dart out to swipe across your lips; he wanted to bite it; but he had more control than that. He had an image to uphold. The Duke was supposed to be fair and reasonable; he was supposed to lead by example and be a neutral figure of respect and reverence, not a brute without self-control. He pushed you back gently, hoping beyond hope that in your shock you haven’t noticed how hard he was.

“Kidding, of course,” he drawled.

Anger coloured your face and you punched his shoulder, half seriously. You hissed and shake your still very much wounded hand. You had been duelling partners for a while when you had spent a significant amount of time in the Fortress pretending to be a convict back when you were neither friend nor whatever you were now. He’d only agreed to it at the time because you managed to beat everyone and nearly him.

“You are breathtaking,” he muttered. “Come on let’s get you to Sigewinne.”

He stood and offered you his hand.

Your heart stuttered. Even though you weren’t native to Fontaine you were well-versed in their mother language, but even then, you didn’t believe your ears.

“What?” you asked.

He chuckled again, a deep and hearty sound.

“When will I stop doubting the ears of a seasoned traveler,” he said out loud although it was meant for his ears alone. He must have been mentioning your mutual friend, the blond traveler, and their small pixie pie companion, Paimon. You have been accompanying them on a few commissions and quests here and there, especially through Natlan. Which kept you away from Fontaine for significant periods of time, much to Wriothesley’s silent dismay.

However, he would never keep something so precious away from the light. He tried to keep a pet once—not that you were a pet—but he soon realised that it was wrong to keep something meant to be in the sun away from it. And if he couldn’t do it to a small animal then he definitely couldn’t do that to you. You were a traveller, not even native to Fontaine. Although you have made it clear countless amounts of times that Fontaine is your favourite region; he can’t help but feel like you weren’t meant to be chained to one place. He won’t be your administrator, the fortress won’t be your prison, and he couldn’t imagine keeping you in this cage with him. He refused to, even if his more selfish desires would have you cuffed to his desk where he could gaze upon you forever till you hated him and wished him gone.

“No, I want to talk first,” you said.

“I assure you we can talk after your hand has been seen too.”

“Wriothesley.”

Your tone went straight to his cock. You have never said his name, at least not his face. Even when you’re both around your mutual ‘friends’ you still have only ever called him ‘your grace.’ He wanted to hear you say his name again. He wanted to hear you say his name breathlessly, desperately, whilst you crumbled into each other. He cleared his throat and walked across his office hoping that the distance would stop you from noticing the obvious tent in trousers. He fiddled with the cuffs on his hips to distract himself and pulled at his tie.

“You really should go…to Sigewinne,” he said.

You approached him. He turned away from you facing a bookshelf. You brushed your fingertips to his forearm feeling the chilling aura around his skin. You expected him to pull away, for him to stop you from going past the point of no return, but he didn’t.

“Wriothesley,” you said his name again, this time with a wistful air. You don’t even realise you’re saying it. You never said it; not to him, only to the crisp cold darkness when your back arched on your sheets late into the night.

“Say it again,” he said.

“What?”

“My name. Say it again.”

Your eyes widened as you realised your mistake. You have always tried not to say his name to separate your lustful fantasies from the real man.

He faced you, capturing your gaze and with it your heart too in his glacial eyes that looked so warm. “Please.”

You couldn’t help but obey. His name slipped out in a hushed prayer: “Wriothesley.”

In turn, he said yours; just as quiet, just as wanting.

“You really should go to Sigewinne,” he said and ghosts his thumb along your jaw.

“What if I don’t want to?” you stepped closer. “What if I want to stay right here?”

His expression darkened.

“You shouldn’t,” he said with no bite behind it.

You didn’t budge.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, sounding way more desperate than you intended. Before you could cringe at yourself, he had you caged in his arms, mouth cold against yours. He groaned when you bit down on this bottom lip, and for the first time, you felt his thick erection brush against your stomach.

None of your wildest fantasies could compare to the reality of kissing Wriothesley and any pain in your hand disappeared altogether. He kissed you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the earth; like you were his last gulp of air before he dissolved into primordial water.

He tugged on your shirt.

“If you don’t take this thing off right now I’m going to rip it,” he said, his breath laboured.

You reached under your shirt, and he helped you slip it over your head. He threw it away and pulled you into another kiss. His hand wrapped in your hair.

You took off his tie and his waistcoat, his usual fur coat was already draped on the back of his large red chair. He stopped you unbuttoning his shirt, shaking his head, trailing kisses along your jaw, and down your neck as he walked you backwards to his desk. He unclasped your bra. He watched it slide down your arms and then tossed it somewhere that was going to be your future you’s problem.

“Up,” he ordered.

You jumped up, wrapping your arms around his neck. He grasped the underside of your thighs and placed you down on the free space of his grand desk.

He bit your shoulder, and you moaned out his name in a way that had him almost feral. He lapped at the wound and kissed it. You threw your head back biting down on your lip. He continued leaving kisses and nibbles along your collarbone, slowly lowering until your breasts were under his hungry gaze. You suddenly felt nervous. You wouldn’t say you were insecure in your looks. You knew that your looks were something to behold and of which you were very proud. They’ve come in handy in your many jobs as many times as they have caused unnecessary issues but being under the watchful gaze of Wriothesley felt different… intimate. You tried to bring your hands up to cover yourself. Wriothesley caught your wrists, looking up at you from his crouched position.

“Don’t you dare. You’re beautiful.”

“Wriothesley,” you said.

“If you aren’t comfortable, we can stop,” he assured you, although the words pained him and his dick, consent was king—always. If you weren’t comfortable, he could always sort himself out later. You were the most important thing to him. He let go of your wrists and you dropped them, letting him feast his eyes on your breasts.

“Don’t stop. Please.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again.

“Yes.”

“If you change your mind, just tell me and we’ll stop,” he said. “Give me a safe word.”

“Cake,” you instantly responded.

“Cake?” He cocked a brow. “Cake, it is.”

Without a moment spared, he grasped your breasts and planted a kiss there, dragging his lips over your nipples in a way that made you shiver. He smiled to himself at the occasional whimpers that left you; even more pleased that he was the one causing them.

“I love the noises you make. I love your voice. I’m obsessed with it. I wish to capture it and listen to it whenever you’re away,” he groaned.

He dragged his tongue down, further, and further until he was on his knees, he pushed up your skirt that had been bothering him since you crossed your gorgeous legs earlier. He was tempted to have you keep it on when he fucked you, for no other reason than the thought that the next time you decided to wear that poor excuse of a skirt he knew all you would be able to think about was how he messed you up in it. The thought brought him immense pleasure.

 He slid his hands into your shorts, squeezing your thighs. The flimsy piece of black material and whatever surprise underwear beneath it were the only things keeping him from what he wanted. He wanted to taste you. He wanted to feel how you’ll curl on his tongue; he wanted to feel you gripping his hair and screaming his name as he brought you to a high only he could give you.

“These damn shorts,” he grumbled.

“I climb mountains. How else am I going to keep myself comfortable?” you asked.

He tutted and tore them open; the fabric did not put up much of a fight at all.

“I guess you won’t be climbing mountains anytime soon,” he said guiding the torn fabric down your legs.

“Those were my favourites, you brute.”

He winked up at you.

“Ah, I suppose that makes us even,” he drawled.

Was he thinking about that damn teacup right now?

“How are you?” He said, checking in on you.

“Good.”

He smiled and your heart melted a little.

He froze when he took in the sight of your lingerie.

“Were you thinking of me when you bought these?”

“Don’t get too cocky,” you said.

“Too late.”

You bit your lip. It hadn’t been intentional, your underwear matching the colour of his eyes. He trailed his nose up the soaked fabric brushing your clit. You grabbed his hair at the stimulation. You felt the beginnings of the scruff threatening to break out of his chin tickling you as he guided your lingerie aside and gave your clit an ardent lick. Wriothesley wasn’t big on savoury treats, but you weren’t savoury, you tasted like you, and you were fast becoming his favourite dessert.

“You taste divine,” he said.

“Oh Archons,” you muttered.

“They won’t hear you down here,” he said.

It didn’t take long before your toes were curling, and you were chanting his name. Wriothesley gripped your thigh with one hand and fingered you with the other, stretching you out in preparation for him; because if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that you were going to cum around him. He was going to feel the way you would clench around him; he was going to watch your blissed-out face twist as he fucked you hard into his desk. Although he would love to feel you climax on his face there would be time for that. He’d be damned if this was the first and only time he had you. You were his. Morals and reputation be damned, he wanted—no, needed to be inside you. He didn’t care if the entirety of Meropide could hear you; in fact, he got off on the thought.

Just when you felt like you were about to climax, he pulled away and licked his lips. You glared at him as he stood and bent over you kissing you softer than before. You could taste yourself on his lips, and instead of it turning you off it spurred you on. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, grinding against his clothed erection.

“Do you trust me?” he asked between heated kisses.

Everything felt wet like you both were melting, and you probably were. If so, you didn’t care, becoming water wasn’t half bad if it was with him. You heard his cuffs before you saw them spinning around the two fingers that had been inside you.

“Right now, no,” you lied.

He half smiled.

“I suppose I deserve that. I guess I’ll just have to persuade you then.”

You untangled from around him. He stepped back unbuttoning his shirt and revealing lean scar-littered skin. You wanted to reach out and so you did, tracing the long jagged discoloured scars, slightly keloid. Some looked fresher than others. He shivered and breathed out a low groan when you grazed over his nipple. He raised his signature cuffs.

“Give me your wrists,” he said.

It clinked when it secured around both wrists. The spiked metal looked so beautiful against your skin; he was almost tempted to throw away the key.

“Oh no, you’ve caught me, your grace,” you teased. Something you shouldn’t have done because the way he looked at you after told you that you had triggered something in him.

“You did break my favourite teacup after all,” he said.

“I thought we were even.”

You watched him slowly unbuckle his belt and step between your legs. There would be time for savouring the moment later, many moments if he could help it but not then. You felt his erection only covered by the thin fabric of his boxers press against your vagina, he leans over you caging you between his arms and the desk.

“Indeed, we are for breaking.” He nibbled on your ear, “but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. That was an expensive cup you know some flimsy shorts won’t cover the costs. You should know I only play fair, and you got some of the tea on my freshly shined boots.”

Your cuffed hands resting on your stomach fiddled with the lining of his boxers. You lost your breath when he nuzzled into the base of your neck.

“Don’t tease me,” he grunted.

You manage to slip his cock out.

“Says the man who denied me my orgasm.”

You felt his smile on your neck.

He rubbed his cock along your folds but didn’t push in. He wanted to be sure that you’re sure.

“I don’t think friends do this,” he said as he continued to edge your hole.

“Just fuck me already,” you sassed.

He thrust into you, filling you completely. He was thicker than you expected, thicker than you had had before. You couldn’t be more thankful for the earlier foreplay because without it he wouldn’t have fit. He remained still for a while, and you slowly adjusted to his size. The dull ache of the intrusion quickly turned from discomfort to bliss.

“Wriothesley.”

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he breathed. “Don’t stop saying my name.”

You didn’t.

“Good girl,” he said.

The desk jutted, the papers shook, and books slid off the desk smacking the floor in their wake, but the sound was lost to you both. Despite his strong persona, and much to your delight, he didn’t hold back his occasional whimpers, and grunts. The sound blessed your ears like a symphony. Sometime after your first orgasm, he took off the cuffs and threw them to his settee.

He left the occasional bites and kisses on the underside of your jaw, and down to your breasts. You, in turn, added to the long scars down his back, your nails clawing into the flesh. He would treasure those when they scarred.

You guided his face up from your neck, where he had been breathing you in as if he couldn’t get enough of you into his system. In truth, he couldn’t. You kissed him deeply, filling it with all the words you hadn’t yet been able to say. You felt your third climax on the horizon as he hit the same spot that made your back arch.

“Wriothesley,” you said against his mouth. “There.”

He chased your lips.

“That’s it,” he said, rolling his hips. He slipped a hand between your rocking bodies and rubbed your swollen clit. You let out a needy moan.

 “I’ve got you,” he said as you clenched around him.

Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave of primordial water. He held you to him, as he continued to thrust towards his own high, encasing you in his arms.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he groaned.

 Wriothesley felt like he was on cloud nine. Being with you was entirely different from what he imagined in the best way possible. It felt like a dream having you here, in his arms, pliant to his every desire. In each kiss, he pretended that you felt the same way; that you wanted the same things. He pretended that this moment wasn’t just a moment but forever—because he wanted you forever.

He slowed down prolonging the experience and straightened up looking down at the fucked-out expression on your face. He knew he didn’t look any better. Swiping a hand through his hair, he continued to roll his hip slowly. He placed a hand on your pelvis steadying you. Your body was covered in a sheen of sweat which glistened under the light of the office. He felt like he was melting into you—like you were melting into each other.

“Can I?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered opening your arms for him, beckoning him home. And truly, to him, you felt like home.

He pushed his damp hair back once again, before leaning over you. With a final grunt and a spam of your walls around him, he came. He didn’t pull out right away, wrapping his arms around you as if afraid to let go.

Your thighs were sticky from your combined releases, and your body felt like it had been sitting in a sauna for hours but seeing the rare, satisfied look on his face made it all worth it. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“You owe me new shorts,” you said.

“I’ll buy you as many shorts as your heart desires,” he uttered, tiredly.

“Really?”

He hummed and nodded slowly.

“Good because I think I’m going to need a lot of them if you’re going to rip them off every time,” you said causing him to perk up. “You know to repay for the teacup.”

“Oh?”

“Unless this was a one-time thing then—“you hesitated.

He kissed you again, unable to hide his smile.

“Next time let’s use my bed.”

“I’d like that,” you said.

He tried to intertwine your hands, but you winced when he brushed against the forming boil.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and to Sigewinne, for real this time.”

“First, can we have a cup of tea?” you asked.

He laughed. Of course, you wanted to have tea. He could do with some tea too; he was famished after all. He laid a kiss on your forehead and made a mental note to send Clorinde an extra box of his finest tea.

“Of course, first let's clean up and then we'll have tea. I promise, but don’t spill it this time.”

masterlist

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[galacticsuperstitions]

the minds of a lab at three different points (LONG rambling under the cut)

I am constantly in awe of the analyses people put out about Arknights on this website. I feel like my own interpretations are somewhat lacking as a result, but I was confident enough to post this, at least. I've had this idea for a long time now, I think since Lone Trail released, but I've only been able to make the time for it now.

Rhine Lab has so many fucked up elements and people involved in it that it's actually impressive. They were really gunning for "most unethical scientific consortium" reward. Really, though, it's just the result of Kristen gunning for her parents' wishes. All of the directors want something and all of those somethings are different.

Things I want to mention or just feel proud of (allowing myself this because of how long this took):

-I was originally planning on crossing out Saria's surname to reflect that we still don't know what it is in canon, but I don't know why whoever has this poster would do that, so I just kept it in. Hermon refers to Mount Hermon, which Saria's name apparently derives from. Technically, her name here is the same thing twice. Oh well.

-I don't know who this poster belongs to. It's just in some Rhine Lab tech's personal desk, I guess? Doesn't explain the doodles, though. Maybe they were bored and feeling spiteful about the potential job insecurity of your boss being comatose in space.

-I realized only while making this post that I made Saria's, Muelsyse's, and Jara's doodles reference Kristen, yet Kristen's only references herself and her parents. Completely unintentional, but appropriate nonetheless.

-I am so happy with how the poster came out. It makes up for how hard I had to fight Canva for it to come out like that. Here it is in full if you want to look at it closely for whatever reason. (writing an actual description for this thing was fun!)

-Andenate doesn't actually have a face under the sticky note. That's why he's still Mike Wazowski'd in the poster png. I didn't feel like drawing one since it wouldn't be shown in the finished pieces anyway. His jacket is just the same as Magallan's.

-Ifrit's picture board was a literal last-minute addition. It's why the images are sketches rather than being in the lineless style of the poster. It feels fitting, though, so I'm keeping it that way. Seeing Ifrit all grown up and doing so well in Lone Trail was wonderful. There's something in her being happy and healthy and also surrounded by not just her loved ones and friends from Rhine Lab, but also people outside of it. She's cultivated her life to be as fulfilling as she wants it to be, and while there is still room to grow, she has plenty of support and insight from others for it to do so. I may be misrepresenting her a bit (the sleepiness doesn't help), but man. I love Ifrit. She's so cool.

[deadforprettyboys]

2nd time EVER writing something, wish me luck!

'I Bumped Into My Nemesis In A Hallway And All I Got Was An Australian Himbo Boyfriend' by Fall Out Boy - G.Waller x Reader

warnings: banter, arguing kinda, lil itty bitty bit of angst! kinda hints towards smut?? minors dni!!

(not proofread lmao)

Grayson walked down the halls of this week's Smackdown arena, championship belt on his shoulder, confidence (or arrogance) as prominent as ever. He had no plans for a match or even an appearance this evening, so he found himself aimlessly wandering the hallways, when all of a sudden he bumps into his so-called arch nemesis, because it wouldn't be a fanfiction if he just paced the arena for an hour.

"Well, if it isn't Y/N," Grayson sneers. "I should have figured you'd be in my way somehow. Do us both a favor and stay out of my path in the future, yeah?"

Y/N meets him with a "Love you too, Waller." before even a beat can pass. "Watch where you're going, dickhead. We both know this isn't my fault. How about instead you stay out of my way so that I don't have to kick your ass!" Y/N sneers right back at him. 

Grayson rolls his eyes, clearly unamused by Y/N's response. "Oh, please, spare me the empty threats. You're not gonna do anything, you know that. You're lucky I even acknowledge your presence."

"Oh please, as if I give half a damn whether you 'acknowledge' me or not. 'Oh, Grayson, you're so important, please pay attention to me, I'm begging you!' God, grow up, asshat." Y/N mocks, hoping to get a rise out of him.

Grayson scoffs at Y/N's mockery, his expression hardening with annoyance. "You really know how to push my buttons, don't you? But let me tell you something, sweetheart. When you're the Aussie Icon, people begging for your attention is the norm. And trust me, you're not the only one who's grown up, I'm just on a whole different level." He smirks with an annoying amount of confidence.

"You act like a 30-something year old frat boy who peaked in high school but still wants to seem cool to the 'youngins'. And that haircut isn't helping, babe." Y/N knows she's lying through her teeth just to make him mad, but all's fair in love and war, right?

Grayson's nostrils flare as he grows more irritated by the minute. "First of all, I'm not some old codger stuck in the past. And as for my haircut, I'll have you know that it's a classic style. I guess you wouldn't know anything about that, with your boring, uninspired look."

"Haha, very original insult. Calling my style boring, really? You don't have anything better up there in that ol' noggin of yours? Come on, now." Y/N feels a pang of guilt being this mean to Grayson, sure, they squabble often but it's all in good fun. But this almost feels a bit too far, like she needs to lighten the mood a little. But she doesn't, only continues to egg him on.

Grayson's annoyance turns into anger as he clenches his fists, trying to maintain his composure. "Oh, you want originality, huh? How about this, I've seen more personality from a brick wall than from you. You're plain and forgettable, just like your insults."

That stung a bit. Hearing the guy you've been hopelessly crushing on for 2 years say you're forgettable? Ouch. She'd almost believe it, too, if this didn't happen every week.

"Yeah, yeah, don't forget, I'm gross, annoying, always in your way, etcetera etcetera. Admit it, Waller, you're obsessed with me. How else are you literally ALWAYS bumping into me, huh? care to explain?" She prodded. 

"Obsessed? Me? Please. I have much better things to do than pay attention to you. You're just... unfortunately always there. And if I do bump into you, it's only because you're constantly standing in my way. You're like a thorn in my side, a mosquito buzzing in my ear." Grayson tried to convince both Y/N and himself, though they both knew it was a lie.

"And I'll continue being that thorn in your side as long as I live. I get such a kick out of watching you lose your temper, it's absolutely hilarious!" Finally, something to lighten the banter a little. Y/N giggles after her sentence just to rub in the point a bit more.

"Oh, I bet you do. You get some sort of sick satisfaction out of getting under my skin, yeah? Well, guess what? I'm not going to give you the satisfaction. I'll stay calm and above it all, no matter how much you try to annoy me."

"Way too late, babe. You've already lost it once." Y/N grins. "Let's see how long you can keep up the act, huh?" Y/N smirks up at him, knowing he can't keep his cool forever.

"Don't call me babe," Grayson says through gritted teeth. "And I haven't lost anything. I'm in full control of my emotions. I may have gotten irritated at your childish behavior, but that doesn't mean anything. I can keep this up all night, so don't test me."

Y/N smiles wide, "oookay, babe, let's give it a try, then!" She begins lightly tapping him on his arms and chest, trying to get on his nerves as much as possible. Grayson's jaw tightens as he struggles to keep his temper in check. He takes a deep breath, attempting to stay calm. "Do you really think your little taps are going to bother me? I'm not some fragile flower that's going to snap just because you touch me."

Y/N frowns. "Aw, bummer. I was really hoping you'd just shatter in front of me so I didn't have to look at that face any more. What a shame."

Grayson's temper flare even more, his patience wearing thin. "Shatter? You wish. I'm tougher than you could ever imagine. And my face, you know you're secretly jealous of my good looks. Admit it. You can't keep your eyes off me." 

"Very funny, Waller. You'd be one to talk, huh? I've seen you staring at me from across the room more times than I can count. What's the deal with that, anyway? Am I so pretty you can't stand it? Do you like me so much you have to steal a glance whenever I'm around?"

Grayson glares at Y/N, his cheeks slightly flushed. "What? Me staring? That's ridiculous. I don't... I mean, yeah, you're attractive, but that doesn't mean anything. It's not like I'm... it doesn't matter. Shut up." He looks away, embarrassed. Y/N can't help but find it endearing.

"Woooow, I finally got the cocky, arrogant boy all flustered, huh? Lucky me. How cute." Y/N smiles, a genuine one for once, rather than a smirk.

"Shut up," Grayson growls, trying to regain his composure. "You didn't get me flustered. Don't think so highly of yourself, princess. I just wasn't expecting you to bring up me... noticing your appearance. That's all."

"You brought it up first, did you not? And hey, I couldn't have noticed you staring if I didn't look over at you now and then, right? I never denied it when you accused me of staring, did I?" She's playing with fire now, but it feels so good. This could go one of two ways, horribly wrong, or horribly right. 

Grayson swallows hard, feeling embarrassed at being called out. "Fine, so maybe I've looked once or twice. It doesn't mean anything. I'm not some lovesick puppy drooling over you. I just... I happened to notice you, that's all."

"Right, right, and the sky is gray. You're obsessed with me, Grayson. Admit it."

Grayson huffs, clearly annoyed at Y/N's insistence. "I'm not obsessed with you! I'm the Aussie Icon. I have admirers and fans lined up at my feet. I could have anyone I want. I don't need to be obsessed with you."

"You certainly don't need to be obsessed with me. But you sure do seem to be. Hell, you're right. You could have anyone you want. So then, why don't you?"

Grayson opens his mouth to respond, but closes it again, clearly flustered by the question. He crosses his arms in a defensive gesture. "It's... complicated, alright? I don't have the time or patience for relationships, okay? I'm focused on my career and becoming the best. I don't need the distraction."

For all she knew, it could've been the way he phrased it, or the fact that she was finally letting herself be a little bit vulnerable, who knows. But that hurt. And she chose to believe him this time. "Right, of course." Y/N frowns slightly, trying once again to hide her true feelings. "Good luck becoming the best, Gray." She began walking away, not wanting to deal with her slowly breaking heart in front of the one who's breaking it.

Grayson watched as Y/N walked away, a pang of guilt tugging at his chest. He hesitated for a moment, his mind and heart both racing.

Then, he suddenly called out. 

"Wait!"

She turned around slowly, scared to hear what he may say next. "What's the problem now?" She manages to stutter out.

Grayson rubs the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking again. "I... Look, I didn't mean to be such a dick, okay? And I don't just see you as some thorn in my side. You're more than that, whether I want to admit it or not." He starts walking towards Y/N slowly, trying to make up the distance from her leaving before.

"Grayson, are you running a fever or something? Is this a prank? Is there a hidden camera?" She had never seen him be so honest, so vulnerable. She didn't know what else to do other than make dumb jokes to lighten the mood.

Grayson laughs softly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "No, I'm not running a fever and there's no camera. I'm serious. I've just... I've never been good at expressing my feelings, okay? I always act like a jackass because it's easier that way. It's a defense mechanism or something."

"I could say the same about acting like a jackass, honestly. It's so much easier."

Grayson smirks, a hint of humor returning to his usually cocky demeanor. He takes another step closer to Y/N, his gaze still intense. "Yeah, you definitely have a knack for being a pain in my ass. But it's... endearing, in a way." Y/N takes a step back, still very nervous, but finds herself against a wall instead. 

"Endearing... how?"

Grayson takes another step towards her, closing the distance between them even more. He leans against the wall, his face only a few inches away from hers. "Endearing because it gets under my skin, but in a good way, if that makes sense. You don't listen to me, you're not afraid to push back, and you never let me get away with anything. It's frustrating, but also... kind of refreshing."

"Oh yeah? I could say the same about you." She smiles up at him, feeling a small jolt of confidence rush through her. Grayson can't help but crack a small smile at her witty remark.

"Well, look at us, finally agreeing on something."

He studies her face for a moment, his gaze lingering on her lips for a beat longer than necessary. She notices and follows suit, looking at his lips for a moment too long before snapping out of her trance and turning away to look at the floor.

Grayson notices her eyes dart away and the blush on her cheeks, a wave of confidence washing over him.

"Hey," he says softly, gently lifting her chin so that she's looking at him again. "Don't look away. Look at me." He smiles at her, a genuine one, and she's sure it's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.

She looks into his eyes for a moment or two before whispering "if I look at you much longer, I won't be able to keep myself in check any more, Grayson." His heart races as he hears her words, her soft voice sending a shiver down his spine. He leans closer, his face so close to hers that he can feel her breath on his skin.

"Who says you have to keep yourself in check?" He muses.

With this, she finally stops holding herself back and quickly leans in, closing the distance between them and kissing him with such force that he nearly stumbled backward. He stood shocked for a moment before kissing her back with a passion to match hers, grabbing onto her waist and pulling their bodies flush against each other as he deepened the kiss.

After a few minutes of practically grasping onto each other for dear life, they finally have to pull away for air, but still hold onto each other and remain as close as possible. After a moment of gazing into each other's eyes, Y/N speaks up. "Finally. You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." She pants.

Grayson is equally out of breath, his heart thudding in his chest. He can't help but smile, his hands still on her hips. "Oh, really?" he teases. "I had no idea you were so desperate for me, princess." At this, she slightly pushes Waller on the arm. "Shut up, I know I'm not the only one who wanted that to happen."

Grayson laughs, not at all offended by her playful shove. "Okay, okay, you got me. I'll admit, I've thought about it, too." his smile turns into a mischievous grin, "But hey, you were the one who initiated it first. Couldn't get enough of me, could you?"

She chuckles and blushes, looking away slightly. "Maybe, maybe not, who's to say?" Grayson raises an eyebrow at this. "Oh, now you're playing coy, huh? You can't just kiss me like that and then act all nonchalant about it. I know you just couldn't resist me any longer."

She leaned up to his ear, "and maybe I still can't."

Grayson's smirk widened as she closed the distance between them again. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her body against his again before he pulled away from the kiss.

"Careful, Y/N. You're playing with fire."

"Fire was meant to be played with, baby."

He laughs, looking down at her and smirking. 

"Well then, princess, let's play."

[oneforthemunny]

First time sending one in, so here we go…

Bouncer!eddie, fluff, first time saying I love you

💜💜💜💜

they need a redemption after that last one lmao. fluff with bouncer!eddie and bartender!reader :)

"Hm, ok, what about... her?" You nodded towards the red head in the corner, sauntering over to the group of men at the bar.

Eddie snorted lightly, shaking his head. "Her? C'mon, sweetheart, gimme a harder one than that." He grinned at you.

It had been a while since you and Eddie started... whatever this was? Dating? You guessed you could call it that, but at this point it felt a little weird. The two of you a little too familiar with the other.

Tonight, your third date of the week- a new record for the two of you. You were becoming more and more reliant on the other, wanting to see each other more each time. This time a small dive bar that had a 'killer' band. Really, it was good for people watching, and for playing your favorite game- Eddie swore to you on your third date that he could guess anyone's age. "Been bouncing long enough, at this point, I can just look at someone and tell their age." He'd told you, chest still puffed out, voice dropping to a low, effortlessly cool tone that came off a little too forced.

"So you don't know?" You lifted your brow, eyes fluttering seductively when you looked up at Eddie. It always made him blush, lips twitching and rolling as he tried to fight back a smile- this time was no different.

"Never said that." Eddie's arm was around your shoulders, spread over the back of the booth. You'd migrated over there after the first ten minutes. The music was too loud, you told him, but he knew better.

"Red? She's nineteen. Probably just turned nineteen a month ago?" Eddie squinted slightly. "Thinks she's really grown up now, trying to show off that she's mature, but..."

"But she can't walk in those heels." You giggled, leaning your head back against his forearm to look up at him.

"Not at all." Eddie shook his head. "Stumbling around like a baby deer." His eyes were glassy when they met yours, the drinks catching up to him, hitting him harder that usual.

You grinned, head rolling to the side to look at him. Eddie thought his heart might burst through his ribcage when you laid your cheek on his arm.

"I really like doin' this with you." Eddie muttered, leaning down towards you. You could smell the whiskey on his breath. "I really like being with you."

"Just like, hm?" You hummed playfully.

"No," Eddie grinned. "I love it." He admitted, heart hammering in his chest. "Love being with you, and... and I love you." His eyes widened, shocked at his own admission.

You lifted your head, looking at him with rounded eyes as he stammered and fumbled over his words, trying to cover for what he said. "Shit, I-I don't know why I said that. I'm sorry, I'm just, I'm really fuckin' drunk right now." Eddie rubbed a hand down his face, hoping to hide the burn in his cheeks.

"Except, I'm not really sorry, because, I dunno, I mean it? I know that's not cool or whatever, but I fuckin' mean it." Eddie looked at you, hoping you couldn't see through his faux confident facade, that you couldn't see how his knee was shaking. "I love you, and I think you're really cool, and I love bein' with you, and really I love everything about you. That's why I wanna be with you so much."

He thought he might throw up when you blinked back, unknowing that your own heart felt like it was about to explode and give out.

"Thank you." You said with a small nod, tongue swelling with nerves.

"I fucked up, didn't I?" Eddie sighed, shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry. I knew I shouldn't have said it. I really didn't mean to say it-"

"-No, it's-it's alright." You nodded, sitting up in the booth. "It's fine, really, it's... I mean, I would be lying if I said I didn't feel the same way." You squeaked, far less cool and effortless than you wanted to be.

Eddie's eyes widened, sure he misunderstood you. "I-I love you too." The admission coming out in a breathless squeeze of your lungs.

Eddie blinked, registering your words before his face broke out in a smile. Deep dimples and wide, erratic eyes that had your heart skipping beats.

[vibrantbirdy]

You are so incredibly talented! I love reading all of your works! : )

Could I request a Cal Kestis x female reader (or OC, no preference really). I’ve been super into the game recently and just love his character. Maybe a really strong female character, but she gets flustered by Cal’s confidence, and how much she has grown to like him more than friends. I totally see him being a complete flirt (but still sweet). Haha. I’ve always had this idea that it would be cool for a force user to show someone what it’s like by holding their hand and pulling something to them (like aiding them in using the force). Stupid maybe I don’t know lol, basically Cal being suave and laying it on thick. Fluff, crack, little spice, I’m here for whatever creative piece you get going ❤️

Firstly, thank you for your lovely words! Secondly, yay, Cal! Thank you, I'm glad someone's asked for Cal, this is a cute prompt.

Character x Reader requests are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first. Masterlist of my fics can be found here.

Title: Proximity Fandom: Star Wars Jedi Fallen Order/Survivor Games Setting: Prior to events of Jedi Survivor Genres: Sci-fi; Romance; Fluff - This is tooth-rotting fluff with a little added spice as requested ;) Warnings: This fic is 18+ so please heed and respect the adult rating. Descriptions of sexual longing/arousal; one scene of strong consensual sex - nothing too descriptive but probably on the borderline of (hopefully still sweet) mild smut. Pairing: Cal Kestis x Female Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Word Count: approx 5.5k (Because I have no self control) Summary: You are an accomplished Coruscanti thief who has been recruited by the Rebel Jedi, Cal Kestis. As you join him and his crew on their adventures aboard the Mantis, you and Cal have to navigate your growing feelings for each other.

You are standing in some Imperial-worshipping Senator's private vault in a bank nestled deep in the heart of Coruscant's palatial financial district. You've just located your prize - a data stick containing the names of high standing political and military figures within the Empire who have Republic, perhaps even Rebel leaning sympathies.

It's the Senator's insurance policy, his get out of jail free card - something he can produce at the eleventh hour in case his unwavering loyalty to the Empire turns out not to be enough to save him from the pull and push of the Imperial tide of oppression swelling across the Galaxy.

You'll sell the data stick to one Rebel faction or another, whoever is willing to pay most for your service in getting information out of Imperial hands and aiding the Rebel's recruitment drive in the process.

You're in the middle of internally congratulating yourself on successfully extracting the data stick from its complex security casing when a male voice, almost conversational in tone, rings out behind you.

"I can't let you leave with that."

Startled, you whirl around to see a man standing no more than a meter away from you. You wonder how long he's been there, watching you.

He has bright ginger hair which is swept back from his face, short at the back and sides, but longer on top and slightly ruffled. His matching red stubble sits on his cheeks, chin, upper-lip and travels up his well-defined jawline to his ears. He is dressed simply in a fawn shirt, dark grey pants, and sturdy brown boots.

A small red and white droid, bipedal, with a flat rectangular head and two photoreceptors, one slightly larger and beadier than the other, hangs almost casually off his shoulder like a pet. It's a BD unit, you think.

Both the man and the droid are rather dirty, but then, so are you after squeezing your way through a maze of dusty ventilation shafts. It makes sense the only possible way they could have gotten in here is the same way you did.

The stranger is holding something metal in his right hand that glints occasionally in the vault's dim security lighting, but you can't quite work out what it is. A weapon?

You raise your blaster.

"Don't!" he shouts, holding out a palm towards you, "The vault is magnetically sealed, if you miss, that bolt's going to cause us both a world of problems."

You raise an eyebrow because one, you already know that, and two...

"Bold of you to assume I'll miss at point blank range," you say levelly.

You keep your weapon trained steadily at the young man's chest.

He adjusts his grip on whatever it is he is holding and a green beam of light extends from the hilt of what you now realise is a lightsaber. A deep thrumming sound resonates around the small chamber.

A Jedi. Great.

You thought they were all extinct after the Emperor's purge. Briefly, childhood memories of evening strolls with your parents past the monumental ziggurat of the Jedi temple glowing golden in the low Coruscanti sun flash through your mind. You remember the thrill of excitement at seeing the Jedi, elegant and regal in their grand robes, lightsabers clinking at their belts as they swept by on important Republic business.

Right now? Here? This is the last place you want to see one.

The light from the blade illuminates the young man's face which, you have to admit, is a rather attractive combination of youthful and rugged. His nose and cheeks are peppered with freckles and his eyes contain green irises so deep in colour that they almost match his blade. A thin, red scar runs almost horizontally across the bridge of his nose, dipping down onto his right cheek. The ghost of a smirk is now playing on his lips and it has the irritating effect of making him more handsome.

You don't know why, but for some reason, you trust him instinctively not to try and cut you in half with that humming beam of hot, vibrating energy. At a stalemate, you lower your blaster. He follows your lead by deactivating the blade of his saber immediately.

"If you make me a good offer, you can have this right now," you say, one hand on your hip, the other waving the data stick in front of him impatiently.

You never like staying on the scene of a job too long and you are starting to feel on edge.

"I've got ... uhhh ... one hundred credits?"

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as he speaks. He knows it's a stupidly lowball offer and you scoff loudly to let him know you think so too.

"Look, I know the ISB would pay a lot for information like this but..."

"I don't sell to the Empire," you snarl, cutting him off.

He holds up his hands in a gesture of apology which seems genuine enough. He tries again.

"I really need to get this to a contact in the Mid Rim..."

"The Mid Rim?" you interrupt abruptly, "that's off-world."

"Yeah..." his brow furrows and a slow, quizzical smile spreads across his face at the obviousness of your statement.

You curse yourself for being as predictable as a cheap holo novel. All your life you've lived on Coruscant. You've never been anywhere else. These days, the endless maze of unnatural, lifeless spires and struts and blocks of artificial construction seem to press in and in and in on you so that, despite the sprawling size of the metropolis, it feels like you are living in a tiny metal cage.

Still, this stranger didn't need to know that, and you realise you've given him his angle - a bargaining chip.

"I can't buy it off you," he reasons, "I don't have the credits, but I do have a proposal. Work with me and my crew. It's regular and we're rarely on one world for too long..."

There it is...

You got in here," he continues, gesturing around the vault, "we could use someone with your skill set. And, you get to piss off the Empire in the process."

You consider his offer. You are used to working alone and you don't like the complications that come with relying on others. Trusting anyone is difficult after fending for yourself, all alone, so successfully and for so long....

But with the Empire continuing to close their fist around all aspects of daily life, work was difficult to come by on Coruscant these days. Thieving in the city from Imperial targets in particular was becoming more and more fraught with danger.

While it riled you that he was able to read you so easily, really, what did you have to lose? Because by the Force did you not want to get off Coruscant? Isn't this what you'd been waiting for your whole life? An adventure?

"One job," you counter pragmatically, extending your hand to shake his, "And we'll see how it goes from there."

"Cal Kestis," he introduces himself with a disarmingly friendly smile, "And deal."

*************************************************

One job turns into another then another and another. Weeks turn into months and soon you've been on Cal's ship - well, borrowed ship you had come to learn - the Mantis for nearly half a year.

You've grown close with the crew of the Mantis. Cal, Gabs, Bravo and the two hulking Klatooinine twins, Lizz and Koob. This type of camaraderie is new to you. You really thought you'd struggle with it, that your independent nature would rail against the confines of living in close quarters with ship mates and fitting your own whims and desires and wants around others. In reality, you've never felt more at home. You didn't realise how lonely you had become before.

And the missions you run with the crew are exhilarating. This new life is so much more than just pilfering here and there from the Empire. You feel like you are really making a difference, like you're spitting directly in the face of the Imperial machine with every job. You feel like a Rebel.

It's not all sabotage and espionage and fighting Stormtroopers though. Off duty, life on the Mantis is mainly based around friendly joshing and winding each other up. And the dull minutiae of life still goes on.

Like now.

You and Cal are patching up the Mantis while the others are out on a supply run. You are currently crouched on your haunches so that the service hatch you are examining on one of the walls inside the ship is at eye level.

Cal is stood behind you, arms folded across his chest. You've been arguing good naturedly about what the problem is with the engine cooling system for an hour and you are now impatiently waiting for BD-1 to finish his scan to find out which one of you is right.

The little droid crawls out from the tangle of wires and gives you little nod and a boop of approval. You pat BD on his rectangular head and he scurries up your arm and on to your shoulder.

"I told you that was the problem," you say, craning your neck to look up at Cal with a triumphant grin.

You gesture to the wiring tool in his hand.

"Give that to me, I'll do it."

The Jedi looks down at the small instrument in his hand then tosses it up in the air and catches it again. He has that mischievous look on his face, the one you've learned to recognise as a sign that he's about to do something really annoying.

"Kestis..." you warn standing up, unable to stop your lips curling into a smile.

You make a lunge for the tool in his hand, but he's too quick. In a flash, he's holding it up above his head. Cal is almost a head taller than you and there's no way you can reach that high, even when you stretch up onto your tiptoes.

Instead, you decide to play dirty. You jab him hard in both his sides with your fingers where you know he's ticklish. He makes a funny sort of snorting noise in surprise and his hand drops for long enough that you manage to snatch the tool from him and make off with it at great speed.

Cal darts after you, both of you careering in to the kitchen of the Mantis, the thud and scrape of your boots on the ship's durasteel grated floor ringing throughout the ship in chorus with your laughter.

BD-1 takes this opportunity to leap of your shoulder and onto the kitchen table with an indignant whirr, determined not to get involved in this organic tomfoolery.

Cal is on you in seconds. He grabs you around the middle and lifts you off the ground with ease, spinning you around and deliberately tickling you in between making grabs for the wiring tool.

You squeal and let out perhaps the most ridiculous giggle to ever escape your mouth. You can't let him get away with forcing you to make a noise like that so you elbow him in the stomach. It's only a gentle prod really, but it's enough to make him grunt and let go of you.

As Cal doubles over, winded, you sprint back around to the opposite side of kitchen table holding the instrument aloft and performing a little victory dance.

Across the table, Cal straightens and, with a cocky look on his face, he stretches his arm out towards you. You stumble forwards slightly as if pulled forwards by an invisible rope tied around your wrist as he uses the Force to tear the tool easily out of your hand and bring it flying through the air to rest in his own outstretched palm.

"That's cheating!" you say, breathlessly.

Despite your half-hearted admonishment, in reality, you're delighted. And you're certain Cal knows it. The more time you spend with him, the more that old fascination you held as a child with the strange powers of the Jedi has returned. You are always enchanted by Cal's displays of Force ability.

"Alright kids, we almost ready to go?" Gabs' voice echoing through from the Mantis' doorway signals the return of the others.

Cal shrugs at you and you both grin, panting from your exertions. Keeping his green eyes locked on yours, he backs casually towards the door to help Gabs and the others load up the supply crates. Just before he exits the ship, he tosses the wiring tool to you underarm and you catch it with an elaborate flourish and twirl that makes him laugh.

You return to your work fixing the Mantis's cooling system with BD-1. You try to concentrate, but you feel slightly giddy. You can still feel Cal's strong arms against your body as if they remain wrapped around you. His masculine scent, pleasant and earthy and fresh like petrichor, seems to linger in your proximity and on your skin.

BD-1 tries his best to keep you right. He trills or nudges you every so often either to correct your wiring or to encourage you to stop staring into space with that inane, absent-minded smile.

When you lie in your cot bed that night, the hum of the Mantis' hyperdrive lulls you into a comfortable drowsiness and your thoughts return, unbidden, to Cal.

Over the past few months, it's like the very idea of him nestled deep into your brain and now refuses to budge. Every morning when you wake, you look forward to the sight of his honest, open, expressive face. The warmth of his slightly crooked smile. The way his red brows arch when he finds something funny before he squeezes his eyes shut so tight that they crinkle at the corners as he throws back his head, letting out peels of joyful, open-mouthed laughter.

Even when he has those strange moments of quiet introspection which you don't quite understand yet, you find it hard not to watch him. You can't help it, even although you sometimes feel like you are intruding on a private, sacred moment of reflection. It's always the same. His eyes glaze over as he stares out into the distance at nothing, a muscle works in his chiselled jaw, and then his head drops as if in dignified, melancholic prayer. These periods never last too long - not when he has a crew to lead.

There's no point in denying it anymore, at least not to yourself anyway. Your feelings for Cal go beyond comradeship; beyond friendship. And a hopeful notion has formed in your head that he might actually feel the same way about you.

It's both frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

A sudden heat blooms deep within your very core and rises in your cheeks as your mind conjures the image, no, the feeling of Cal's solid, toned body, pressed against yours in a feverish, impassioned embrace, your limbs entwined, fingers woven tightly through the flames of his red hair

Force, you want him.

You place a palm against the cool durasteel wall above your head that separates your room from the Jedi's. You wonder what he's thinking of on the other side of the thin sheet of metal.

****************************************

Cal Kestis can't sleep. Like most Jedi, he can't actually read the thoughts of others, but his connection to the Force allows him to feel the emotions and state of mind of those around him.

Over the past few months, the Jedi has noticed your feelings for him blossoming into something more than friendship, mirroring the growth of his own affections for you.

But tonight, Cal can sense that something in your emotional frequency has changed. Evolved. A clarity, a new and vigorous and glorious certainty in your desire for him radiates incandescent through the Force. It's like the smouldering embers of a fire have ignited into a ferocious blaze.

As the feeling permeates through the thin sheet-metal wall dividing you, the intensity of it, the heat of it, drives him crazy. He wants to rip through the flimsy partition separating you and give you everything you want from him and more. His whole body is aflame with almost painful arousal and he is aching to bring himself release.

Cal resists, teetering on the very edge of giving himself over to his desire. Is this voyeuristic? Is he trespassing? Crossing some unspoken line? Should he be trying to block you out? He doesn't know.

The Jedi hisses through his teeth in frustration. Reluctantly, he rolls out of bed and, sinking to his knees on the floor, surrenders himself to the Force in search of whatever temporary solace he can find in meditation.

Even as he does so, he knows that the only real relief he'll be able to get now is if he can find it with you.

***************************************

The crew of the Mantis are taking some time to rest after a run of particularly eventful jobs. You've landed on the quiet world of Brax at the edge of the Mid Rim. It's a beautiful, lush planet adorned with meadows of wildflowers, glassy lakes and sprawling coniferous forests.

Everyone is making the most of their down time.

Gabs and Bravo have gone off for a hike in the nearby woods.

BD-1 is having a well earned oil bath on the Mantis.

The twins are snoozing in the meadow amongst the flowers. When you'd crept past them earlier, you'd smiled fondly - the peaceful serenity on their faces was such an odd juxtaposition to their usual chaotic enthusiasm for life.

Having successfully sneaked past Lizz and Koob without waking them, you are now sitting atop a large slab of rock which juts up and out of the meadow. You alternate between admiring the view of the lake and cleaning your blaster.

It is a warm day, but a gentle cooling breeze keeps the heat at bay. A gust suddenly whips up the heady, sweet smell of wildflowers all around you. For some reason the scent triggers something inside you, your heart suddenly full to bursting with a strange concoction of melancholy and joy.

To think that all this beauty, all this Galaxy was just out here, waiting, your whole life. And if you'd never met Cal, you might still be crawling through filthy ventilation shafts smelling of metal and damp and darkness just to get by on Coruscant.

You are just about ready to reassemble your weapon when you look up from your task towards where the Jedi is meditating with his back to you. He's kneeling a few meters in front of you on the sandy shore by the still water. You always think it's strange how he chooses to sit on his knees, rather than cross-legged. It looks uncomfortable to you, but he seems to be able to sit like that for anywhere up to an hour. Maybe you'll ask him about it one day.

Cal is shirtless. Even from here, you can see the freckles littered like celestial constellations across his strong back and down his broad shoulders and muscled arms. You take the opportunity to admire the outlines and angles of his taut, athletic body.

You start as the Jedi begins to stand. You'd rather not get caught staring at him quite so openly and you quickly shift your gaze back to your blaster which is still in its various component parts.

Cal turns and advances towards you up the beach and onto the grassy meadow. You pretend not to have noticed him at all, but you keep catching glimpses of him in your peripheral vision. He walks a few paces, then stops and looks around as if he's searching for something on the ground. Then he crouches down. He does this several times.

What is he up to?

"Hey," Cal says casually as he finally wanders over to you.

He has to crane his neck to speak to you, perched as you are on top of your rock, and use a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. He's hiding something behind his back you realise.

"Oh, hey," you reply, as if you're surprised to see him there.

He pulls his hand from behind his back and reaches up to you. In his grasp is a bunch of wildflowers, beautiful pastel blues and pinks and purples.

You exclaim softly in surprise, a rather giddy sound that makes Cal beam up at you. As you take the blooms from him, his fingertips, calloused and tough from years of wielding a weapon in combat, brush gently against your hand. Even that small touch feels like a spark of electricity arching between you.

"See you at dinner," he says, and he's clearly pleased with himself as he retreats towards the Mantis, head held high, a jaunt in his step.

As you twist in your seated position to watch him disappear into the ship, you realise you were so enchanted by the gesture that you forgot to say thank you.

That's the thing about Cal Kestis. He's completely disarming. He has a rare, effortless charisma and an easy, flirtatious way about him that is somehow both sweet and suave at the same time. Few men you've met have ever managed to render you so flustered.

You look down at the delicate blooms in your hand and bring them to your nose, inhaling their fresh scent. Smiling to yourself, you shake loose the functional way you usually wear your hair to keep it out of your face and retie it, carefully weaving the wildflowers that Cal has picked for you through your locks.

When you come in for dinner - Bravo's turn to cook - Cal is already sitting at the kitchen table. He looks up and inclines his head to the side as he takes you in, his eyes widening. You blush furiously to see the genuine pleasure at the sight of you and your decorated hair written so openly on his face.

Amid the usual convivial hubbub and chaos of dinner in the Mantis' kitchen, you and Cal steal glances at each other across the table.

**********************************************

That evening, the moon is low and yellow in Brax's dark sky, hanging like a ball of golden light above the lake. You have an hour or so before you all depart for a rendezvous with a contact on Naboo. It's the twins' turn to do pre-flight checks and you find yourself on the shores of the water, skimming stones with Cal to kill time.

Before joining the crew of the Mantis you'd never skimmed a stone in your life. Not many places to do that on Coruscant. But Gabs in particular is an ace at it and she's taught you well.

Cal spots a likely candidate for his next projectile and he brings it flying casually into his hand using his Jedi abilities.

"What does it feel like like?" You ask, suddenly.

Cal smiles at you, seemingly understanding that you are talking about the Force. He hesitates for a second, looking down at the stone in his open palm. Then he places it back on the ground in an obvious position, nestled in the sand a few feet in front of you, and moves round to stand behind you.

He's so close you can feel his heart beating against his chest. Instinctively, you lean back into him, enjoying the safe feeling that his nearness gives you, and the warmth of his body against yours in the chill night air.

"It's time for instruction," he says softly.

He's said that phrase before when he's showing anyone how to do something new. You've come to understand that it's a fond impression of his late Master's dignified voice - a touching habit you've always thought.

Tonight it sounds different. His tone is light and teasing, but the smirk you can hear as he speaks makes the words sound almost seductive in a way that causes something to flip then tighten in the pit of your abdomen.

"Hold out your hand."

You extend your right arm, holding your palm outwards as you've seen Cal do many times. He places his own palm against the back of your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours.

His other hand comes to rest at your waist, pulling you ever so slightly closer into him. He doesn't need to put it there and you both know it. Nor does he need to rest his chin on your left shoulder, so close to your cheek that his stubble almost tickles your skin.

Yet you can tell that you are both revelling in this rare, private opportunity for proximity between the two of you, and it is as thrilling as it is maddening.

"Focus. Breathe."

You realise you've been holding your breath. You feel Cal's chest rising and falling against your back and you match your own breathing in time with his. You can't help but notice it's at a slightly elevated pace.

"See the stone in your hand."

You nod and exhale, your eyes boring into the rock as if you really are going to levitate it yourself. You try and fail to stifle a sudden giggle at the ridiculousness of such an idea.

"Concentrate," Cal scolds quietly in your ear but you can hear the smile in his voice as the hand round your waist tightens its grip ever so slightly.

"I am," you mutter, but it's only half true.

You wonder if it's just your imagination, but in the seconds that follow, you think you can feel an deep, vibration flowing through Cal and passing through his body and into yours, binding your lifeforces together.

The rock flies so suddenly into your palm that you jump. You just about remember to close your fingers around the stone's cool, smooth surface as you shout out in surprise and delight. Cal lets out a good-natured laugh at your reaction and you glow as it rumbles through his whole body and yours.

You've just made up your mind to twist around in his arms kiss him when BD-1 comes running through the grass at great speed on his little legs, beeping and chirping urgently.

"Ok buddy, ok, we're coming," Cal says kindly to the little droid, but you can hear the exasperation at the untimely interruption in his voice.

*******************************************

Course set, the Mantis is travelling at lightspeed and, nestled safely in the cradle of the hyperlane, you will probably make it to Naboo in about six hours.

You suspect the rest of the crew are all sleeping soundly. The Mantis takes care of herself for the most part when travelling through hyperspace. With the life you lead, the importance of catching rest when you can cannot be underestimated.

You, however, cannot sleep. Thoughts of Cal and your interrupted moment by the lake race through your mind. The wildflowers he gave you are still in your hair and every so often you catch the ghost of their aroma, reminding you of your almost idyllic day on Brax.

You sigh and drag yourself out of bed, deciding to go and sit in the empty cockpit of the Mantis for a while and watch the stars race by as you hurtle through the hyperlane. Although it should really be frightening, you love to watch great swathes of the Galaxy disappear in a flash before your eyes as the Mantis catapults through space. It's a novel experience for you still - being off Coruscant, light speed travel, new worlds.

You wave your hand over the control and the door to your room hisses open. You jump to see a figure already standing there in the corridor. With a jolt of excitement, and with a strange feeling that you've summoned him somehow, you realise that it's Cal.

"Uh, hi.."

You don't let him get more than two words into his sentence. You grab him roughly by the front of his loose night shirt - which is slung low, revealing tufts of ginger hair on his chest and the elegant lines of his collarbone - and pull him into a deep kiss.

Not breaking away from your lips, and hardly hesitating, he picks you with almost alarming ease. You wrap your legs around his waist and curl your fingers in his red hair as he carries you back into your quarters. He places you up onto your workbench situated against the opposite wall as the door slides closed behind you.

"You look so pretty with those flowers in your hair," he mumbles into your neck you shiver with pleasure as his mouth brushes against your skin as he talks.

"Yes, it's a shame you're about to make such a mess of me," you whisper into his ear.

He pulls back to stare at you for a moment, green eyes wide as if dumbfounded by your forwardness. His delighted, slack-jawed expression forces a loud giggle from deep within you.

"Shhh," Cal warns emphatically, keenly aware of the proximity of the rest of the crew and how thin the walls of the Mantis are. He presses a kiss to your mouth in an attempt to silence your outburst, but you can feel his body shake with his own barely contained laughter as he grins against your lips.

Once your stifled mirth subsides, you hastily start to undress each other. You barely have time to appreciate the now naked, muscular form of the Jedi before you, when, in his enthusiasm to remove it, Cal accidentally rips your flimsy night dress away from your body. As it comes apart in his hands, the fabric makes a loud tearing sound, louder even perhaps than that of your previous bouts of laughter. You both freeze, as if anticipating someone will burst through the door and catch you in this compromising position, before dissolving into poorly restrained giggles again.

As he drinks in the sight of your body, Cal's expression changes into something primal. His brows knit together as if he is trying to understand how you could possibly be sitting in front of him like this. Then, his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare before he crashes his mouth back down on to yours into a deliciously rough kiss.

You don't move from your position on your workbench, and you coil your legs around Cal as tight as you can as he starts to move in you. The pace is urgent. You don't mind. There'll be opportunities for languid and gentle love-making in the future. Right now, this is a matter of need for both of you. The cord of tension that has been tightening between you for months finally snapping in a glorious, frenzied, explosion of mutual lust.

As his pace increases and his movements start to become uncoordinated, Cal moves a hand down between your bodies, splaying his palm against you, and settling the pad of his thumb between your legs at the very place you most need it to be.

At this, your hand which was tangled in his flaming hair flies down to join the other at his back and he growls as you claw your fingers in to his flesh between his shoulder blades.

You press your lips hard into his shoulder to muffle your cries as you approach your peak and then, suddenly, you are crashing over the edge and seeing stars. You gasp out his name, over and over, open mouthed and breathy against his ear.

This, combined with the sensation of your body in rapture, sends Cal hurtling towards his own oblivion. You cling to him while the great, strong muscles all over his body tense and release, and he lets out a long, shuddering groan into your neck that is almost a whimper.

The sight of him, the sound of him falling apart in front of you is beautiful.

Once you've both caught your breath, Cal lifts you gently off the table, and carries you to your tiny, single cot bed. You manage to position yourselves fairly comfortably in the snug space by lying on your sides. The Jedi has one arm laced underneath you with the other slung over your waist, hand resting on your stomach and holding you close to his warm chest.

As you are lulled almost into a doze by the sound and feel of his slow and steady heartbeat, you take in the rather sorry sight of the flowers which once bejewelled your hair, now scattered in ruin across the functional durasteel floor.

"I told you those flowers wouldn't last," you muse drowsily.

Propping himself up on one elbow, Cal removes his hand from your waist and reaches out his arm, palm splayed open. A blue bell flower, stem and petals astonishingly still intact- a brave survivor of the onslaught of urgent hands through your hair - floats lazily up from the floor and towards you on the bed.

Cal plucks it out of the air and gently weaves the bloom into your locks just above your ear. Then, he kisses you gently on the cheek and then on your shoulder, his beard tickling your skin, before sinking back down on to his side and resuming his previous position curled comfortingly around you.

For some reason, despite the eroticism of what you've just done together, this sweet gesture makes you flush disproportionately and you feel your cheeks turning pink.

You're starting to realise, perhaps hope, that the heady feeling of being slightly flustered in Cal Kestis' proximity might never go away.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Well Llama, you’ve got me hooked on another one of your aus. That post about kids visiting the harpy aviary reminded me of my own field trips as a kid. I…may have gotten a reputation for wandering off and getting lost. NEVER on purpose, mind you, it just always seemed to happen! I can guarantee I would have found my way into Skull’s enclosure. With that in mind, what WOULD our loveable teddy bird do if a kid somehow wandered in?

I'll do you one better. Here's how all of them would respond to a child wandering into their enclosure.

Sans: Usually, when anyone who isn't Mc approaches the grouchy harpy while he's sleeping, he gets extra vicious at his sleep being interrupted and lashes out. Many staff who got too close/confident have the laceration scars to prove his favouritism toward Mc. Let sleeping dogs lie, as they say.

... But even though anyone watching can clearly see his sockets open a fraction at the approach of the child, he does absolutely nothing, continuing to lounge around like they aren't even there. The kid literally wanders up to him, touching his soft plumage, and he does little more than snore. He's like a lion dad with a fussy cub- they could cuddle up next to him, shout and scream, jump on him, pull his feathers, anything. He might even play with them a bit... pretending to roll over in his sleep and pinning them under a wing. Oh no, gravity is increasing on me...

He likes kids. He doesn't consider a child any kind of threat, unlike adults. This one is particularly funny. He also very much enjoys the attention Mc gives him for being so gentle.

Red: Kids find him cool so it makes sense one would eventually find a way to wander in. He used to not really care about children, but after he started courting a human woman, he's grown very fond of human kids. It's one of the reasons he seems so delighted when groups of them come to visit the aviary.

... But obviously, this kid isn't his biologically. So there's a worry he won't tolerate them in his space. Not the case, though! If Sans is the lazy lion dad, Red is the grumpy one. If a kid entered his enclosure and started following him around, he resembles a slightly annoyed older brother with their delighted younger sibling shadowing him absolutely everywhere, but he still lets them do whatever they want. He lets them clamber on him, tug his feathers, touch his cool teeth and claws. Despite his constant annoyed expression, when staff come to the rescue he's got the kid on his shoulders where they gleefully prod his face and talk about flying.

He's quick to let out little warning growls if they get too rough. But that's it.

Skull: A kid who walked into Skull's aviary would have to be suitably unafraid of him. Which is his dream. He immediately scoops them up, and they play together for as long as possible, climbing and 'flying' and exploring. It's the best time he's had in a long time.

Unfortunately... then comes the removal process. Mc tries to do it slowly, tries to gradually convince Skull to let the kid go so he doesn't lash out. And she almost gets it- she can see in his eyelight that he's close to handing them over. But not close enough... the other staff panic and tranquillise him.

... Skull goes to sleep holding his baby. And he wakes up no baby. Mc stayed with him until he woke to try and mitigate the inevitable fallout, but her presence does little to calm him. His distress is obvious, he tears up his enclosure looking for them... and once he realises they're gone, he becomes completely inconsolable, curling up in the corner of his den. You don't have to be a harpy expert to know that the sounds he's making are ones of grief.

For at least a week, he's utterly despondent. He won't eat unless Mc is there, he just stays in his den, cradling his plushie. He always keeps it tucked under one wing... like he's hiding it.

(He's scared he'll lose that, too.)

[still-scribblin]

Please, Please, Please

i just followed where the story took me, it was a few hundred words when i realized there was no smut in the books for this one????? none for now anyway and!! this doesn't seem directly derived from the song the longer i wrote but duhfaiuhdfjnldjfb whatever - also just posting this as soon as i finish so i don't have time to second guess or be shy so there are probably mistakes somewhere here isdbfhs

tags: inspired by a song, rlly mild angst at first but it's all good, reader-centric, 'Reese' is a nickname, if you read the whole thing here you'll get where it came from lmao

written for @stargazingfangirl18 's birthday! 🥳

hey siri! happy birthday! i'm one of your readers and i think it’s so cool that you hosted an event for writing for your birthday. it’s always a treat reading the stories you’ve written (and even the ones you’ve reblogged) when they come up on my dash and you’re one of the first cevans writers i’ve come across that just got me hooked on him and made me appreciate the different characters he’s played in his career! also one of the writers that probably influenced me to try writing for cevans characters too hihi. anyway i hope you have a great birthday here on tumblr and irl with your loved ones and closest friends, and i hope writing keeps you happy and that you share more of those happiness with the community here on tumblr. happy birthday!!! 🎈🎁🎊

i’ve been meaning to write for ransom using this song so i’m glad i got to use this event as a motivator for that. i chose to write for ransom first because he’s usually who i’m reminded of when i look at your blog (probably bc of the icon?) anywayyy yea :)))

wc: 1,269

-------

“Are you ashamed of me?” 

“Wha- no! Never! You know I’m so proud of you, right?” 

“I mean I understand you know,” he said bitterly, ripping your heart to shreds. “I wouldn’t want to be seen with me either.” It took a long time for him to be alright after realizing what he’d done, it took even longer for him to regain his confidence and show his true, lovely, colors after all that. Now it seems like all of that progress will be set back all because you’d lost the ability to speak.

“It’s not that at all Ran, I promise.” 

“Really? Because I heard you threatening to pull your sister’s hair until she went bald when we ran into her at the supermarket if she said anything about us.” you couldn’t breathe. he heard that? “I didn’t even know you were capable of saying violent things. It was a nice change, definitely made you hotter.” somehow you knew he meant it even if he was avoiding your eyes this time around, trying to keep the hurt off of his face. 

“Please believe me when I say I’m not ashamed. Of you, or us, or anything you’ve done and been through. It’s a problem with me, I swear.” your heart hurt at the disbelieving look he gave you. 

“You’re a saint, why would it be a problem with you? Just be honest with me, Reese. I’m a grown man, I can take it.” You hugged his head to your chest, combed his hair with your fingers, and choked on your tears. Words that you couldn’t say tripping over each other, suddenly in a rush to be spoken when they’d been stuck in your throat for days. It wasn’t his fault that this meeting would be doomed to fail, and something inside you would die if you let him go back to the driver’s seat believing that you saw him as anything less than the man he was, the most loving partner you’d ever had. 

You didn’t even realize your position had changed until you inhaled a mouthful of the fibers of his sweater. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you shrugged. The sigh he’d let out at least let you know he’s okay and out of the self-deprecating hole he’d dug himself into while he waited for you to speak. 

“It’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Maybe, but I have high hopes. You’ve always spoken so highly of your family, and if you’re right about them then maybe they’d give me a chance, just like you did.” the way he looked straight into your eyes with unshakeable faith stole the breath from your lungs, and that was that. you didn’t know what you did to deserve him. 

Whatever happens, you were content knowing that Ransom knew where you were coming from, and that whatever anyone would say, you didn’t think of him any less. You steeled yourself as you both got back out front, the ride still quiet but definitely more comfortable as you felt the weight of your intertwined hands on your lap. 

“Well that wasn’t so bad. What were you so nervous for?” staring at the ceiling of your childhood bedroom, squeezed against Ransom’s body and the wall beside your twin-sized bed, you’d barely heard what he said, feeling so snug and comfortable at finally being able to relax now that all’s said and done. You didn’t even know you lost sleep over it. 

“Hey.” Ransom poked your cheek. He laughed as you groaned and buried your face in his chest. 

“I don’t even know.” you exhaled, watching his chest rise and fall calmly. 

For once in your life you were happy to be proven wrong. You’d thought that it would be a disaster of an afternoon, but your sister – godbless her blabbering mouth – had already told the whole family about Ransom, and about how she saw you two goofing off in the supermarket that day before approaching you two. The family had already known apparently, and were just happy that you found someone who wouldn’t take you for granted, regardless of their past. 

Tears stung at your eyes at the idea of Ransom staying, not because he needed anything from you, but just because he wanted to. 

“Come on,” you felt him grumble. “get out of that pretty head and come into bed with me. you already left me to fend for myself the whole afternoon.” he complained. 

“Do I have to fuck your soul back into your body?” that got your attention. 

“What?”

“What?” you could only watch, incredulous, as Ransom palmed his growing hard-on and proceeded to position himself between your legs with a mischievous grin. “I’ve been thinking of this since you told me we were visiting.” at your blank look, he sighed.

“Fucking you in your childhood bedroom, of course.” he snorted as you suddenly sat up and began hitting his arm out of embarrasment. seriously, where was the filter on this man’s mouth? 

Apparently having had enough of games, you soon found yourself unable to move, hands pinned by one of his own above your head, your view taken up by Ransom furrowing his brows as he took his pants off with only one hand. 

“Are you serious?” 

“Yep.” he said, insufferable. You could only watch as he made a show of sucking on his particularly placed middle finger — the eyeroll you gave him only widened his stupid grin — and pressed said finger in the middle of your panties, tracing your slit over the cloth and breaking your unimpressed stare that he wasn’t buying. 

“You’re such a worrywart,” Ransom said as he slid a thick finger into you, the gusset of your underwear pushed to the side, his eyes never leaving yours. “but I shouldn’t complain, that is how we finally got to talking, after all.”

The hand holding yours slid down to push your thighs further apart. The mental image of what you must look like, inside your family home, with only the four thin walls of your bedroom to keep your dignity intact sparked a fresh wave of arousal over you. Ransom, who had always been attentive, raised a curious eyebrow at the subtle twitch of your body. “you like this, don’t you?” 

you refused to answer the accusation, refused to watch his infuriating smirk grow, but you should have known that would never fly with him. you squeaked as you felt a firm slap on your clit. 

“answer me.” 

“...yes” you whispered. you closed your eyes as he began chuckling, muttering to himself about how ‘he knew it’. One thing you’d learned about Ransom was that the guy loved to talk. The only time he ever shut up was when you sat on his face, because even asleep he liked to mutter random things, like book quotes or threats to family members that were nowhere near him, thankfully. 

the sound of footsteps nearing your bedroom had you looking back at him, panicked. Ransom on the other hand, seemed excited, going by the way his eyes lit up. 

“hey!” your sister knocked. “movie starts in 10 minutes so if you two aren’t down by that time I’m busting this door open even if I have to do it blindfolded!” 

“kinky!” Ransom replied. The loud thump of your fist against his shoulder was drowned out by your sister’s laughter. 

“fuck you!” you whispered, unbelievably embarrased. 

“that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.” Ransom says matter-of-factly, his face speaking of the herculean challenges you’re no doubt going to have to endure for the next 9 and a half minutes.

[artistinquestion]

The Empress of Rome

Part Two

Emperor Geta x OC

Warnings: pregnancy, slight verbal abuse

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: after waking alone, the empress defies her bedrest orders to wander the gardens meeting with her mother in law and friend before she once again finds herself in trouble with her husband, the emperor Geta.

Author's Note: idk how long I'm supposed to wait between posting updates! I planned on doing every other day, but yesterday I was busy with life stuff! Thank you so much for enjoying part one! You gave me confidence to keep working on writing and posting the coming parts of my fic! this part is a bit longer than the first part, that's just how the parts ended up dividing up. Thanks again for reading!

Upon waking in the morning, the empress found herself alone in her bed. Not unusual since she was put on bedrest, most mornings she woke alone. Geta having gone off to fulfill his duties as emperor with his brother.

There were mornings, however, where Cassia would wake to the sounds of hushed whispers and her husband's hands on her stomach, moments where Geta was soft when addressing their unborn child in the womb. Those were times when Cassia knew not to disturb him. She would occasionally run her fingers through his short golden orange hair and let him be, let him speak words to her stomach in hopes their child could hear and understand. She liked those mornings.

Slowly Cassia rose from her bed, pushing herself up til she was sitting with her back against the headboard. With a yawn and a stretch, she called for her servants to help her get ready for the day ahead. Doing her best to keep her worries at bay and forget the dreams that plagued her at night.

The servants always seemed so nervous around her, scared to misstep and do something to inflict the anger of the emperor upon them. Cassia always tried to soothe her servants worried minds, but she knew all too well the threat of death hung over anyone's head who crossed her husband's path.

This morning the servants were just as timid as they attended their empress, seemingly scared to let her rise from her bed.

"Augusta, the physician said you were to be on bedrest" a servant spoke up, two of them at Cassia’s sides taking her hands as she tried to rise from the bed.

"I know well what the physician said, and I am getting out of bed" Cassia stated, a slight irritation in her tone, tired of being condemned to a bed.

"But Augusta, the emperor stated-"

Cassia was quick to cut off the servants thought "I know what the emperor has stated, but I am not staying in bed on this day. I am restless, I need to walk." Cassia stated firmly. Very rarely was she ever sharp with the servants, but she had grown tired of being told what she could and could not do.

Reluctantly, the servants bowed their heads in submission to their empress’s demand, struggling with the idea of disobeying both the physician and the emperor’s orders. However, they also knew better than to question the will of their empress. With careful steps, they began readying Cassia for the day.

Cassia knew she had limits to her mobility in her state, but regardless she would be getting around Palatine today. To ease the worries of her servants she again would only stray as far as the gardens, attended by her guards as her husband requested.

As Cassia made her way through the same halls she traversed that night before, she made her way towards the gardens once again. The one place she could seemingly find peace. The sounds of birds chirping in the cool morning air filled her ears, she took a deep breath as she tried to clear her mind once again. As the sun rose higher in the sky, so came the heat of the day.

Cassia had managed to make her way to the gardens, only to stumble upon her mother in law and another highborn woman she knew well, also standing in the garden. Making her way over, both women gave a slight bow of acknowledgment towards their empress.

"Good morning, Augusta" Lucilla greeted, followed by Julia, the mother of the emperors.

"I didn't expect to see you up and out today, you're looking well" Julia spoke towards her daughter in law.

Cassia gave a tight lipped smile as she approached the two women, one hand on the small of her back as her belly weighed heavy on her body.

"Good morning to you both.” She greeted “I have grown restless being cooped up in my chambers. I've tried to manage taking walks through the garden atleast once a day to keep myself occupied" Cassia responded.

Both women nodded in understanding, they had been witness to Cassia’s growing frustration due to being confined to her chambers as of late. They knew that the physician had ordered the empress remain on bedrest just to be safe, Cassia’s pregnancy having come with a handful of complications in the past months. But they understood her restlessness. Both being mothers, they knew well the trials and tribulations of pregnancy, especially a royal one, so they greatly understood what made Cassia wander.

"You will be a mother soon enough, should be any day now shouldn't it?" Lucilla asked, striking a conversation with the young empress.

“Yes Lucilla, it could be any day now” she tried to smile even though the thought scared her to death. Cassia paused for a moment, looking around at the garden surrounding them before adding “I only hope that our child will be born healthy and strong”

The three women then fell into a comfortable silence, each soaking up the warmth of the sun on their skin. Taking in a deep breath of fresh air Cassia sighed before going to speak again.

“It is a beautiful day, is it not?" Cassia hummed, the two older women nodding in agreement.

"It is beautiful weather" Julia replied, moving closer to push a strand of blonde hair from Cassia’s shoulder "you're glowing, ever the picture of a mother" she complimented her dear daughter in law.

Cassia smiled "thank you," she muttered.

As the three women conversed, each taking a seat out in the middle of the garden, everything seemed peaceful as the heat started to rise.

As the sun shined brightly over the palace gardens, the three woman once again settled into a comfortable silence, enjoying the calm before the storm of court life.

Suddenly, a visibly anxious servant rushed over, their eyes darting around nervously as they went to address the empress.

“Augusta, the physician has come to your chambers to check on you. He says you must return to your chambers immediately”

Feeling the women’s eyes upon her expectantly, Cassia let out a sigh.

"I am fine, the fresh air is doing me good. It is important that I stretch my legs out. Tell the physician I will meet with him later" she retorted, not even sparing the servant a glance as she tried to maintain what peace she had began to relax in.

Tension quickly rose amongst the women and the servant then. Julia glanced over towards her daughter in law with a look of concern.

“Perhaps it would be best if we heeded the physician’s words for now. It would be for the best if you returned to your chambers and rested, let the physician look over you.” The older woman advised politely.

Cassia gave another heavy sigh "I swear I am fine, I just want one moment of peace outside, away from my chambers" she stated.

The feeling of eyes boring into her soul suddenly catching the empress’s attention. Looking over at her mother in law, Cassia saw her attention was focused on the balcony looking over the garden. There Cassia saw her husband staring down at the three women, glaring directly at his wife.

Cassia let out a breath of frustration, knowing she was once again in trouble with her husband.

"Perhaps you're right," she sighed, reaching her hands out for the servant to help her stand. Turning towards the two older women before she departed "we will talk another time" she stated, once again forcing a smile on her face. The two giving a sympathetic smile and a nod in return before Cassia was lead off by the servant.

As the servant lead Cassia back to her chambers, accompanied by her usual servants and guards, all couldn’t help but feel the tension growing in the air. The emperor was once again unhappy with his wife’s behavior, her disobedience at the simplest of orders. All Cassia wanted was just a single moment of peace, but it seemed that small bit of peace often followed with a good tongue lashing from her husband, ever disapproving of her attempts to dodge the physicians orders as of late. It wouldn't be long til he barricaded her in, she suspects.

As they neared her chambers, Cassia tried to prepare for the coming confrontation with her husband. She had known her disregard for the physician’s orders would have angered him, but she at least felt some sense of relief having briefly escaped her confinement.

Whatever her husband would have to say, she has heard it before. He probably grew tired of repeatedly confronting her for her disobedience, which would only anger him further. Cassia never truly tried to anger her husband, his anger was not a pretty sight, but as of late she couldn't help but wander to escape the feeling of being trapped or confined to a small space. She had spent most of her times wandering through Palatine and the gardens before she fell pregnant, she hadn't expected to stop.

Stood at the doors to her chambers, Cassia could hear the loud voice of her husband as he took out his anger on the physician inside. Feeling a sense of dread wash over her, knowing she was in trouble. The guards pushed open the doors to the empress’s chambers, revealing her husband pacing angrily about the room.

Cassia tried to remain stoic as she entered the room, the physician immediately turning his attention towards the pregnant empress.

"Augusta, please have a seat, lie down please. You mustn't be up and about like this!" The physician worried aloud, no doubt worried that the emperor would take his anger out on him further for her disobedience.

Cassia held her hands up to try and stop and calm the doctor, but she caught the glare of her husband before she could even speak a word against his worries. Sighing, the empress let a servant and the physician help her back into bed, placing pillows behind her back so she could atleast sit up.

"I was just getting some fresh air, stretching my legs. Both things are good for me to do" Cassia started her argument.

“The physician’s orders are for your own good, wife” Geta interrupted sharply, his voice harsh with a glare to match. “I will not risk the health of my heir because of your recklessness. You are to be confined to your chambers until further notice.”

Cassia opened her mouth to argue but quickly shut it when she caught the sharpness of her husband's glare. He was furious. She sat back, arms crossed over her chest as she pouted like a child, unhappy with her husband's demands.

The physician moved the fabric of the empress's dress upwards to expose her stomach to him before he began examining her. Cassia avoiding eye contact as she felt her husband's eyes boring into the side of her head once again, as the physician's hands touched her stomach.

“Augusta, I must insist that you remain confined to these chambers” the physician advised firmly in agreement with the emperor’s orders. His nervousness in their presence visible in the way his hands shook ever so slightly. “Your health and that of the child are of utmost importance” he reaffirmed as he took her pulse, as well as her temperature making notes on his scroll.

"You two act as though I am intentionally trying to harm my child, I am not. I am simply trying to maintain my own sanity and wellbeing while carrying this child." Cassia spoke up again, irritated by both men in the room. Neither of them would ever know what it was like carrying a child and yet they act as though they know what's best, better than she does.

“That is enough out of you, woman!” Geta snapped, his patience having run thin. “You will do as you are told and will remain here until I see fit to release you. Is that clear?” He glared at her, daring her to argue further.

Both Cassia and the physician flinched when they heard her husband's raised voice. She looked away once again, huffing out a breath as she looked out the balcony of her chambers, missing her freedom already.

"Fine," she uttered almost silently.

The physician then put his ear to her stomach, listening for the heartbeat of the unborn child. After a moment of intense focus, the physician smiled nervously before assuring the health of the child. “The child’s heartbeat is strong, Augusta. Imperator. Your child is healthy.” The old man gently patted Cassia on the shoulder in reassurance, giving a bow towards the emperor and his wife before quickly leaving the room, his duty done for the time being.

Cassia tensed as soon as the doors shut, a small feeling of worry rising inside her as she was left with her violent and erratic husband. He hadn't raised a hand to her since she's been with child, but she didn't know for sure he wouldn't harm her now given how far she had pushed him.

The tension in the room only grew as Cassia couldn’t help but notice the way Geta’s dark eyes narrowed when she refused to obey his orders. He made it very clear that he was becoming increasingly frustrated with her defiance. She tried to remain unaffected looking out towards the balcony, but she knew he was just waiting for her to speak up in defiance again.

"Healthy. Did you hear what the physician said? Our child is healthy," Cassia tried to reason, to calm the fire that was no doubt already blazing inside her husband's mind.

Geta’s gaze shifted towards his wife “yes, I heard. But that does not change the fact that you continually put both your health and the health of my heir in danger with your disobedience.” His voice was cold, devoid of all emotions aside from anger.

"I simply wanted to move, to not be confined to a bed to rot whilst waiting for the inevitable to happen. This babe will come when it's ready, I do not wish to be made to sit around and wait! All I have been doing is for my health and for the benefit of our child!" Cassia argued, knowing full well she was stoking the fire inside of him by arguing her point. "But now you have your way, I am confined to my room, my liege," she hissed.

Geta’s eyes narrowed once again, his face tightening into a scowl.

“Your insolence is unbecoming, wife. I had thought you smarter than this, but you will learn to obey my commands, even if it means enduring discomfort for a short while” he spat, irritated by her continued defiance.

True, she hadn't acted up against him until recently, she had always obeyed and played along even when he struck her. She obeyed and played the part as was her duty to her husband and to Rome.

Cassia sighed in defeat, she could practically feel the tension rising even higher in the air surrounding them. She knew that attempting to argue further would only worsen the situation, so she remained silent. As much as she hated being confined to her chambers, unable to move freely, she also knew that the consequences of disobeying her husband’s orders would only intensify the further she pushed.

The emperor rounded the bed, moving to her bedside as she tried to ignore his presence. Cassia flinching slightly as she felt a hand on her skin, her husband's calloused hand now feeling the expanse of her rounded stomach, feeling where their unborn child lay. His heir.

“Our child is strong.” Cassia spoke quietly, hoping to appease her husband. “They will grow up to be a fine ruler, just like you, my husband” she stole a quick glance at him, watching as his eyes focused on her middle.

Geta remained silent, his eyes briefly looking to his wife before returning their attention to his unborn child.

As dangerous as it was being alone with the emperor, private moments like this were also when he would show that side not a soul in Rome got to see. One that Geta would actively deny if ever she brought it up.

The emperor then knelt by her bedside, lowering his forehead til it touched the skin of her protruding stomach, silent. His eyes closed, remaining in that position as he felt the subtle movement of their unborn child beneath her skin.

Geta remained that way for only a moment longer before he rose to his feet, turning away from Cassia and walking away without another word, leaving her chambers. Cassia let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she had been holding, her heart still pounding from the confrontation with her husband. For now, she would rest.