#so that was the first clear thing i had in mind for her. next i looked at her namesake duck. and seeing its patterns i knew

[woso-story]

Better Boyfriend Than Him - Part Eight

Alexia Putellas x Reader - Other Parts

The apartment was quiet. The only sound was the faint hum of the city outside and the occasional rustle of blankets as you shifted on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Sleep felt impossible.

Your mind wouldn’t stop.

Everything from today—everything from the past few weeks—was running in circles in your head.

Luis. The breakup. The fact that you had moved to Barcelona not just for work, but for him. And now? What was left for you here? Did you pack up and go back to Zaragoza? Start over?

The thought of leaving made your chest ache. You had built something here. Maybe not much, but still—leaving felt like admitting defeat.

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face.

Then, a quiet voice broke through the silence.

“You’re thinking too much.”

You turned your head slightly, blinking through the darkness. On the other couch, Alexia was lying on her side, propped up on one elbow, watching you with a concerned expression.

You let out a breath. “I can’t help it.”

Alexia tilted her head. “What are you thinking about?”

You hesitated. “It’s not important. You should get some sleep.”

But Alexia didn’t budge. “I’d like to help. Even if it’s just by listening.”

You studied her face for a moment. There was something about the way she said it, the quiet sincerity in her voice, that made you actually consider opening up.

After a pause, you exhaled and looked back up at the ceiling.

“I was just thinking about the future. About what comes next.”

Alexia hummed softly. “And?”

You swallowed. “I thought my life in Barcelona would be different. I thought I’d be happy here. That everything would work out. But now? I have a cheating ex-boyfriend, a broken relationship, and no idea what I’m supposed to do next.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Alexia spoke, her voice steady.

“Everything will fall into place.”

You turned your head to look at her again.

“And if you need anything,” she continued, “you know Mapi and Ingrid will be there for you. And… so will I.”

There was something reassuring about the way she said it. Like she really meant it.

You gave her a small, tired smile. “Thank you.”

Alexia’s expression softened. “Luis is an idiot.”

You let out a surprised laugh, and Alexia smirked.

“I’m serious,” she said. “He made a huge mistake. You’re a pretty special person, and it’s his loss.”

Your cheeks instantly grew warm, and you were grateful for the darkness, hoping she couldn’t see your reaction.

You cleared your throat. “How do you even know that? Most of the time we’ve seen each other, we were arguing.”

Alexia grinned. “I just have a feeling.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“And also,” she added with a chuckle, “Mapi talks about you all the time. She’s always telling me how special you are.”

That made your stomach flutter a little.

Alexia continued, laughing softly, “Honestly, I wanted to spend more time with you, to get to know you better, but you never wanted to.”

You let out a small laugh of your own. “That’s because you always try to get under my skin.”

Alexia smirked. “Yeah… I do.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, a small smile lingering on your lips.

Then Alexia’s voice came softer this time. “But really… everything will be okay. It won’t feel like it now, but it will.”

You wanted to believe her.

Maybe, just for tonight, you could.

You both kept talking for a little while longer, the conversation lighter now, until eventually, exhaustion started creeping in.

Alexia shifted on the couch, stretching slightly. “We should sleep.”

You nodded, pulling the blanket up around you.

“Good night,” she said softly. “Sweet dreams.”

There was something about the way she said it—gentle, warm—that made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t fully understand.

But for the first time that night, you felt a little bit of peace.

And as your eyes finally drifted shut, you let yourself believe—just a little—that maybe Alexia was right. Maybe things would be okay again.

[hotchnerwrites]

I loved your fic Warmth!! You write caretaker Hotch so well, I would love to read more cute or caring moments where Hotch is looking out for a shy reader!!! Little things like giving his jacket, watching closely on cases, the sweet stuff!! you killed it

Soft Spot

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: SFW, fluff, no use of (y/n), no continuous plot it's fragmented stories tbh

A/N: Thank you so much!!! So very glad you enjoyed Warmth <3 I spent all day indulgently dreaming of the things he'd do OMGGG anyways this is the product. It was supposed to be a 5+1 but i think a headcanon-inspired style suited this story better where you kinda see fragments of their daily interactions. I hope you like it and it's what you imagined!!! Enjoy reading, mwah mwah mwah <3

My requests are open! Send me stuff :)

You didn’t want to be a burden. You liked putting people first. It felt good to be in a caretaker role yourself. You liked bringing Reid his coffee loaded with ten packets of sugar. You liked bringing Garcia collectables for her desk. You liked giving Rossi your chair if the room was one too short. It didn’t matter that it sometimes came at the cost of your discomfort. You’d never liked being the centre of attention anyway.

But perhaps that begged the age-old question— who cared for the caretaker?

●・○・●・○・●・

The first time it happened was on the jet. 

It was a late-night flight, nothing new. But the AC in the cabin must have malfunctioned that day. It was brutally chilly, and since you were returning from a case in Florida, you had nothing but summer clothes. Your tea wasn’t doing much, so you occasionally walked the length of the cabin, trying to be quiet so the others could sleep. It hadn’t even crossed your mind to ask for something as simple as a jacket.

But Hotch saw. 

He didn’t look up from his paperwork— he just held it out as you passed his seat again. His arm barred you from dodging past, so you reluctantly draped it over your shoulders. Just five minutes, then you’d return it.

Maybe he heard your thoughts because right then, he said, “Keep it on.” It wasn’t a polite request; he had already decided for you.

But it’s Hotch so you listen.

No one questioned where you got the jacket from when the jet landed. But you catch JJ’s faint smile from the corner of your eye when she sees the jacket hanging from your desk chair the next day.

Hotch never asked for it back.

●・○・●・○・●・

You’re a great agent in terms of fieldwork. The whole team trusted you. Of course, you wouldn’t be there if they didn’t, but it felt nice to realise that nevertheless. 

But blind trust didn’t mean Hotch wouldn’t watch you like a hawk.

It was probably just a coincidence. You always ended up paired with him when heading into dangerous situations. He never hovered or anything, he always let you do your thing. But it was the way he positioned himself slightly ahead of you when clearing rooms, a silent wall between you and any potential threats,

And then there were the crime scene situations. You could hold it together; your poker face an acquired skill. But some cases hit home. You never let it show too much, but Hotch noticed when your fingers curled into tight fists, shoulders going rigid.

He never called you out on it, or put you on the spot.

Instead, his voice came through the comms before you and Morgan breached a suspect’s house. “Be careful.”

He said it to both of you, but somehow, you knew it was meant for you.

And later, when the case was over, and you were sitting on the back of an ambulance with a shallow cut on your arm from a scuffle, he was there.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, voice low.

You shook your head. “No. It’s fine.”

He didn’t argue, but he sat next to you long after the paramedic finished patching you up.

●・○・●・○・●・

You didn’t even realise when it started.

One morning, you had walked into the bullpen, and there had been a steaming hot cup of coffee on your desk. Just the way you took it. You blinked at it, confused, but you assumed Garcia was behind it.

But it happened again the next day. Then the day after. And again the following day.

It was never a big thing or a grand gesture. Just a simple takeaway cup with your order etched into the side. When you finally thanked Garcia, she looked utterly bemused.

“Oh, sugar. That’s not me,” she’d said, a grin stretching across her face.

No way.

So the next time it happened, you glanced towards Hotch’s office. Sure enough, he was already looking at you. But he never said a word. He didn’t even smile. He just looked down at his files and kept writing.

You sipped the coffee at your desk slowly, savouring every sip, willing it to last longer. The warmth spreading across your chest had nothing to do with the drink.

●・○・●・○・●・

The rain had been terrible all week. Sick of fighting your way through public transport where everything was slippery and wet, you had treated yourself to an Uber. You didn’t have an umbrella while you waited, so you stood under the awning in front of the building. You’d make a run for it when the car showed up.

As you scanned the road in front of you for your designated car, a black umbrella swung open over your head.

You turned, startled, only to find Hotch standing behind you, holding it up without a word. His coat was getting wetter, but he didn’t look like he cared.

“You’ll get soaked,” you said, noting how he had angled it more over you than himself.

“I’ll be all right,” he replied simply.

And that was that.

He waited till your car came, and then he helped you get in, ensuring not a drop touched your head as you bundled yourself into the backseat. 

It wasn’t until you were almost at your front door that you realised— he’d never had an umbrella with him when he came to work this morning.

Hotch had taken the time to find one— just for you.

●・○・●・○・●・

The Denver case was a disaster. 

Too many close calls. Too many what-ifs.

Sleep was difficult that night. You stared at the ceiling of your hotel room, letting yourself dissociate. But a buzz from your phone snapped you out of your reverie. When you checked your screen, there was just one text message.

You did well today. - A.H.

You stared at those four words for too long. No over-the-top reassurances, no unnecessary fluff. Just an acknowledgement.

You never responded, but the next morning on the jet, he caught your eye and nodded, ever so slightly. Like he knew you saw the message. Like he knew it helped.

And maybe, just maybe, it had eased your worries a bit that day.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[covenofagatha]

Hii, can you please do the second part for Professor Agatha x athlete student, where Agatha uses her connections in order to help y/n to deal with the abusive coach? Maybe he pushes y/n to swim again on the next day, but Agatha appears and stops him. After it, she uses her connections in the sport administrative department, so they would offer y/n a medical disqualification from the team, because after seeing a doctor it turned out that she needs to get a surgery too? The university will pay for the surgery and y/n will keep the scholarship to finish her degree but she is not on the team anymore. At the same time her relationship with Agatha grows. Can you please include a smutt scene with dom Agatha face sitting?

(The first part was super! Thank you!💜

(I know it's a big request, but huge thank you in advance if you write it!)

Heyyy sorry this one took so long 😅 thanks to everyone who asked about it and got me inspired to write the second part

Swimming into her arms (part 2)

Part 1

Word count: 6.3k

Warnings: face-sitting, oral, praise kink, masturbation, fluff

You need surgery. 

The doctor is saying other things but it’s all kind of a blur now. The words surgery and torn meniscus and six to nine months for total recovery swirl around your head and make you feel dizzy. 

“You okay?” Agatha asks, gently patting your leg. She somehow had connections to a great orthopedic and they were able to get you in the same day. 

The two of you still hadn’t exactly talked about what happened earlier on the couch. It was haunting every conversation, every simple touch. 

At least for you. 

The ever-feared, stone cold Agatha Harkness had kissed you. Eaten you out. Made you come all over her mouth. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say to stop yourself from thinking too much about the memory, lest you get turned on again. You clear your throat. “When will I be able to swim?” 

The doctor purses his lips and your stomach drops. “With a tear this bad, it will be months before you can even start light physical activity. To get back to your level of practice, six months at the earliest? And that’s if it heals correctly.” 

You blink tears out from your eyes. There goes your scholarship. College as a whole. Maybe even Agatha, too. 

And now you have to pay for surgery on top of it? 

“Um, if I hadn’t swam yesterday,” you ask, voice wavering, “would it still have been this bad?” You pray more than anything that he says yes. 

He frowns and Agatha stiffens next to you. “Based on what you said happened in the weight room about just landing on it weirdly, that wouldn’t have done enough damage alone to make it almost a complete tear. My guess is that the swimming and the walking after made it a lot worse. Mostly the swimming.” 

You feel like you’re going to throw up. Because of your coach, your entire life is ruined.

He gives you a brace, pain pills, and crutches so you don’t have to put any weight on your leg and schedules your surgery for a week from tomorrow. 

You hobble to Agatha’s car with your professor in silence. You can tell she’s deep in thought, while you are just angry and hurt. She opens the door for you and helps you lay your crutches in between the seat and the console so you can get in. 

“I’m going to talk to the athletic director,” Agatha finally says. “Tell him about what your coach did and see if they’ll pay for your surgery. And then I’m giving your coach a piece of my mind.” 

You laugh but it sounds hollow. She reaches over to squeeze your forearm. 

“You’ll get through this. I promise and I’ll be there for you.” 

“What’s going to happen to him?” you ask softly. You know you shouldn’t care and you are furious with him, but there’s still some mixed feelings. 

But not for Agatha. She scoffs and says, “With any luck, he’ll be fired and never allowed to coach again. He shouldn’t be, after he put you in danger like that. It’s not okay.” 

Seeing her like this again makes warmth bloom in your chest. “Thank you,” you say softly, “for taking me to the doctor, for yesterday—for all of it.” You know you will have to call your parents and tell them, and you’ll have to tell your friends and your teammates and your coach, but for right now, it’s just the two of you in this little bubble. 

Would it be too much for it to stay that way?

Agatha’s hand moves from the gear shift to rest on the center console, next to your hand. Her pinkie brushes against yours, like she wants more but won’t take it. 

“I’m really sorry about all of this. I know how hard you work and how much effort it takes to be a student-athlete. I’m really proud of you.” 

Even though her words are nice, you still laugh bitterly. “I’m not a student-athlete anymore, thanks to my asshole of a coach.” 

She turns toward you, face stoic. You finally notice that she still hasn’t put the car into reverse to back out of the spot. “Why didn’t you tell me about him?” 

“I…I don’t know,” you say, chewing on the inside of your cheek. Deep down, the truth rings out inside you: you were afraid what he was doing was actually bad and she would say something to the school. It’s ironic now, that maybe if you had opened up about him, you might not be in this situation. 

It was easy to use humor to deflect how badly he treated you. But if you were forced to confront it, you weren't sure you’d be able to keep it together. 

Agatha sees the reluctance written plainly on your face. “Do you want to talk about it now?” 

You shrug. “I mean, yeah, he’s mean. He told me that I was damaged goods and no one was ever going to want me, he’s called me a toxic ringleader before, he said I was a difficult person to get along with. He constantly tells me that I’m not good enough and that I never will be.” Your nose stings and your cheeks twitch but you force down the emotion. “I fucking hated stepping onto that pool deck. Everyday, I just knew he was going to tear me apart. If there was a bad set, I just knew he was going to be on me, telling me to go faster and work on my stroke but nothing I did was ever going to be enough. And I—” Your voice cracks and you break off when you realize that Agatha is staring at you with so much sadness in her eyes. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says. One hand comes up to cup your cheek and you look away. 

“I used to really like swimming,” you tell her and tears gather and sting. You swallow roughly. “I used to really like it and now I hate it but now this is it. I’m probably never going to get back to the level that I’m at right now, and will I even want to get back in the pool after this? He just—he ruined it all and I’m going to fucking miss it.” 

The realization is a dagger stabbing you in the heart and you feel your cheeks dampen, taste saltiness on your lips. Agatha pulls you in for a hug and you ignore the jutting of the console into your ribs because it’s the only sort of comfort you have right now. 

“I’m sorry,” she mutters into your ear. “I’m so sorry.” She strokes your back and it’s hard to believe that just a few hours ago, her mouth was on you and you were feeling so good, instead of this soul-crushing numbness. 

The two of you stay like that for what seems like an hour and when you finally pull back because you don’t want to get snot on her shirt, you see her looking a little glassy-eyed too. 

She sniffs and puts the car into reverse and the drive is silent on the way to Agatha’s house as you contemplate what you’re going to do next. You only have a semester and a half left in college, maybe you can scrape together your tuition and you won’t have to drop out. Hopefully your parents’ insurance will be able to cover most of the surgery and you suppose you’ll be able to get a job in your free time now. 

When she pulls into her driveway, she quickly gets out and jogs over to your door to help you. It’s not easy with the crutches and you have to awkwardly maneuver them over your body to hand them one-by-one to Agatha. You then have to rotate in the chair and put your good foot on the ground first before gingerly resting your other toes down, keeping your knee bent just a little. She assists you in positioning the crutches under your armpits and then you slowly but surely follow her up to the porch with her looking back every few steps to make sure you’re okay. 

Getting up and over the threshold of the door poses a little problem so Agatha takes the crutches from you and grips one of your forearms while you do almost a little hop to get up into her house. She gives you an encouraging smile as she returns the crutches and then you make your way into her living room. 

She points to the couch—the same couch where she went down on you and your cheeks heat up—so you obey and sit down, swinging both legs over the side to lay horizontally. Agatha is typing on her phone absentmindedly so you stretch to the other side of the couch, grab a pillow, and pack it under your hurt leg so it’s elevated. The brace is uncomfortably digging into you and your skin is sweating underneath and you rack your brain for anything the doctor said about being able to take it off. 

Agatha still isn’t paying attention to you and you’re fairly confident that it won’t mess it up even more, so you unstrap the velcro, unfasten the straps, and your knee can breathe again. 

The adrenaline, and maybe the pain pills, have begun to wear off a little and your joint starts to ache. It’s not as intense as earlier, but it’s a dull throb that spikes through your body and leaves you shifting in hopes of relief. 

You’re about to ask Agatha for a bag of ice when she lifts her phone to her ear and spares you a glance. She looks stern at first, but once she takes you in, her face softens. You give her a smile that she returns before you hear a voice on the other line. 

Her face instantly fixes into her teacher glare. “Hey, Dave.” Your stomach turns. She must be talking to the athletic director, Dave Herron. “It’s Agatha Harkness. I teach at Westview. Listen, I need to talk to you about one of the swimmers on the team.” 

She pauses and pinches the bridge of her nose with two fingers, closing her eyes and shaking her head. Agatha gives you another look and purses her lips before waving a hand at you and stepping into a room off to the side, the office, you’re presuming. You meet her eyes one last time before she closes the door. 

There’s only tidbits from the conversation that you’re able to hear now, and if you were in a better condition, you would go stand right outside the door to eavesdrop. But for now, you’re stuck with piecing together the fragments. 

“No, you need to do something about this!” she hisses. “...the doctor said practice made it worse…no, she tried! He wouldn’t let her…the things he’s been saying to them—to her…and now she’s going to be punished…” 

It warms your heart to hear her standing up to the athletic director for you, but you also hope she doesn’t get in trouble for going to all these lengths for a student. You can’t help but wonder what’s going to happen with your coach. 

“Okay, okay…yes, I think an investigation is very much needed…I’ll talk to him, send me his number…that is very good to hear, thank you very much,” she says and then there’s quiet. You wait for her to come back out, but you hear beeping and a dial tone as she calls someone else. Who is the “he” Agatha was referring to? 

Your coach? 

Would she really call him, though? You start to get anxious at the thought of her directly confronting him, especially over you. He’s going to be furious if he finds out that he could get in trouble just because of you. 

“Hi, Brad.” Your brows furrow—who is that? You really wish you could hear more of the conversation. Even on Agatha’s side, you’re still missing important bits of information. “I just got off the phone with Dave…yes, it’s because of swimming…he wouldn’t let her!...has to have surgery now and it’s at least a six month recovery…graduates in the spring and will lose her scholarship…” 

There’s a few more minutes of them talking, but as hard as you strain your ears, you can’t discern anything. Either way, knowing that she’s exuding this much confidence and is bossing these two men around—over you nonetheless—makes you squeeze your thighs together. There’s a sudden ache between them, not that that’s any surprise. 

There’s something about Agatha taking control that turns you on. In class, when she’d get on students for being late or a stupid answer, or the way she would command the room would have wetness pooling in your underwear. 

Would it be allowed for you to tell her that now? Or do something about it? You’re not exactly sure where your relationship with your teacher stands, especially after her eating you out earlier. On this very couch. 

The door to Agatha’s office opens as you’re rubbing your face because of how head-over-heels you are for her and your attention snaps to her. She’s guarded as she walks over to you before sitting on the edge of the couch, careful not to bump your leg. 

You scan her face. “Everything okay?” The fire in your stomach is slowly flickering out with how serious she seems, but it’s not completely gone because there’s a gleam in her eye when she looks at you. 

“I talked to the athletic director. He’s going to suspend your coach and open an investigation into him. Westview’s going to bring in a third-party company to do it and they’re going to conduct some interviews. I’m sure you’ll get called in.” 

Nodding slowly, you think over what she’s saying. “All of that just because of my leg?” 

“Well, there’s been other complaints about him over the years. Very much along the lines of verbal and emotional abuse, just like what he’s been doing to you. But now,” she says, nodding to your leg, “he deliberately put you in a situation where you ended up actually getting more hurt. You told him that your knee was bothering you and he still made you swim and now you need surgery, that’s very serious. He might even get fired, depending on what everyone else says.” 

There’s a pit in your stomach. He does deserve it, you tell yourself. “And I’ll have to talk to the investigator?” 

Agatha lays a hand on your good knee and rubs circles with her thumb comfortingly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But honey, I really think you should. He hurt you. In more ways than one, it seems. I can go with you, if you’d like.” 

You lean into her touch and close your eyes to soak it in for just a second. Then you shake your head and steel your nerves. “No, it’s okay. I should do it by myself. I can do it.” 

“And I talked to the athletic CFO, the money guy,” she adds with a smile. You prompt her with an eyebrow raise. “He says you don’t have to worry about your scholarship for next year, you can keep it.” 

“Wait—are you serious?” you ask with bated breath. It’s too good to be true. You won’t have to scrape together anything just to finish your degree. 

Agatha nods. “Yep. And they’ll take care of your surgery because you’re a student-athlete and it happened during school-sanctioned practice. So you don’t have to worry about anything.” 

Happiness and relief overcome you and you attempt to sit up straight and spread your legs so you can lean over and hug her. It works, kind of. You have to pull back after a second because the stretch hurts your knee and Agatha laughs. 

“I don’t even know what to say,” you admit. Agatha’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “I mean, thank you. For everything.” Your gaze drops down to your lap as you fiddle with your fingers. “If it weren’t for you, I probably would’ve gone back to practice tomorrow and fucked my leg up even more.” 

Her arm reaches over to tilt your head up by your chin. She strokes her thumb over your bottom lip and her gaze meets yours with a fondness you’ve only seen a few times before. “I told you I was going to take care of you, sweetheart. Thank you for letting me.” 

You smirk in what you hope is a seductive manner. “Well, can I take care of you? Seems fair that I should return the favor.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asks, playful lilt in her voice. Your eyes shine with eagerness and Agatha looks you up and down, heat in her scrutiny. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt your knee even more or make you feel like you have to do anything. We can say that we just got caught up in the emotions earlier and we’ll never have to talk about it again.” 

Chewing on your lip, you shake your head. “I don’t want to pretend that it never happened. I’m sure.” 

Her smile is genuine and she whispers, “Me, too,” before closing the gap and kissing you. Her hands clasp your cheeks and she’s holding you like water as she moves her mouth against yours gently like she doesn’t want to hurt you. 

You get impatient and slip your tongue into her mouth and she lets out a small sound of surprise before taking the hint and deepening the kiss. She sucks on your tongue and your teeth click against each other all while your core burns and aches. One of your hands winds up in her hair and the other on her hip, attempting to pull her closer, but when she starts to scoot forward, she accidentally bumps your knee and shooting pains race up your leg. 

Ignoring it, you palm her breast over her shirt and she hisses. She kisses you harder and rocks forward, putting some of her weight on you, and you break away because your knee is throbbing now. 

“Are you okay?” she asks and it’s so reminiscent of earlier when she had trouble fucking you. Only now, you’re not exactly sure how you’re going to be able to do this. 

“Yeah, I just,” you start, not sure how to voice your anxiety. You can’t lie on your stomach, you’re not sure she can put any weight on you without it causing pain, you can’t stand on your own. But you want her so bad you’re almost drooling. 

But Agatha knows. She tosses her hair back over her shoulder and gets off the couch before holding a hand out to you. Her lips are slightly swollen and pink, matching the tint that’s spread through her cheeks, and there’s heat in her eyes that sets your nerves ablaze. 

You take her hand and she pulls you up, putting your arm across her shoulders and helping you hobble over to the stairs. She takes you up them slowly, and while you’re sure there’s nothing sexy about you sweating and gasping for breath when you finally get to the top, her melodic laugh and the way she looks at you dissolves all of your worries. 

She leads you down the hall and to the first door on the right. When she opens the door, you get your first look of your favorite professor’s bedroom. The mahogany bed frame holds a king-sized mattress with lilac sheets and matching nightstands on each side. Across from the bed, there’s a vanity that’s cluttered, but neat. There’s pictures of the woods that are hanging on the light gray walls. 

“It’s very…you,” you say and Agatha chuckles before guiding you to the bed. You sit on the edge and watch her, still not sure what her plan is. 

Agatha reaches down to toy with the hem of her black blouse that she’s wearing, the same one she taught in earlier. It seems like a million years ago that you had her class. In just a few hours, everything has changed. 

She takes it off and your mouth drops open. Her abdomen flexes and you get the sudden urge to run your tongue over the lean muscle. And then your gaze travels upward and there’s a flash of heat through your body. Her bra is navy and plain, but it pushes up her breasts ever so slightly, making her cleavage swell. 

“Fuck,” you breathe and Agatha winks. 

The pain in your knee is gone when she unbuttons and unzips her pants and starts to inch them down her long legs. More and more pale skin is revealed, her thighs, her knees, her calves, until she finally kicks them off and stands before you in just her bra and black underwear. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, much like hers. 

“Please,” you whisper and she saunters over to the bed, pausing right in front of you, and gripping your hair to tilt your head up so you’re looking at her face. 

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” she croons.

You pant out a desperate“Yes.” 

She smiles and helps you take off your t-shirt, revealing your rosy sports bra, and gently pushes your head down and the rest of your body follows so you’re laying on your back on the bed, knees still bent and feet resting on the floor. 

You’re salivating as she straddles your hips, careful to watch your face for any sign of discomfort or pain, but you think your leg could be cut off and you wouldn’t even feel it. 

Agatha begins to work her way up your body, knees pressing into the mattress and making it dip as she moves and she lowers herself down to drag her covered cunt across your bare stomach. Your breath hitches—you can feel how wet she is. She leaves a trail of stickiness in her wake that you don’t ever want to wash away. 

When her knees stop right under your armpits, you rest your hands on her thighs and stroke the skin, feeling her tense underneath you. She’s looking down at you, hair framing her face, and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen someone more beautiful. Her dark eyes bore into yours and you shiver under the intense weight of her gaze. 

“Please,” you repeat softly, sliding your fingers up to play with the trim of her panties. 

She inhales sharply when you brush against her lower stomach and she shakily but cautiously moves her legs over your shoulders so her pussy is hovering right over your mouth. Even though the fabric of her underwear is dark, you can still see the wetness in the gusset and you suddenly can’t wait. You surge up to drag your tongue against the fabric and Agatha gasps loudly and her fingers fasten in your hair. 

“You didn’t even wait for permission,” she tuts and you have the gall to not even pretend to be sorry. Agatha’s tongue presses against the inside of her lip as she huffs before reaching down to slide her underwear to the side. 

Her smell hits your nose and you moan. Her pussy lips are swollen and glistening and you can see her clit poking out, just begging to be played with. Agatha drops down just so her cunt ghosts over your mouth and you wonder if she can feel how fast you’re breathing. 

“Can I—please, Agatha, I need to—” 

She tugs on your hair and nods. “Go ahead, sweetheart.” 

The instant your tongue delves through her folds slowly and tastes her sweet heat, you let out a low groan against her. Her head falls back, hair loose over her shoulders, but her grip on your locks remains strong. 

You flatten your tongue and do the same thing again and her breath catches. You tease around her clit, never giving her exactly what she wants, and Agatha begins to slowly gyrate on your face. 

“There you go, just like that, honey,” she says, encouragingly but also hoarse. Her praise makes your own clit pulse and you debate sliding a hand into your pants. 

Your tongue flicks against her clit and she makes a strangled sound so you do it again before sucking on it. Her hips buck, smearing wetness all around your mouth, and then you shove your tongue inside her entrance. 

“Oh, god,” she whimpers and drops more of her weight on your face. Her pubic bone is pressed against your nose so you tilt your head just the slightest bit to the side to take a breath out of the corner of your mouth. 

It makes you think of all the times your coach yelled at you for not breathing correctly while swimming freestyle. 

You smirk against Agatha’s cunt—you think you got it down. 

Her walls clench around you, throwing all thoughts but her from your mind, and you bring your tongue out of her pussy and drag it up to swirl around her clit. 

She’s becoming messier, liquid seeping out of her and into your mouth and onto your face. You suck on her again and she moans, not even bothering to take off her bra before she pinches her nipples. You can see them pebbled through the fabric and your own hips jerk and you wonder what it would be like to suck on those. 

“You’re doing so good, honey, making me feel so good,” she rasps breathlessly. Agatha’s eyes are screwed shut, hair bouncing, and her stomach flexes each time she grinds against you. You can feel the slickness between your thighs when you squeeze them together and you can’t help but sneak a hand down the front of your sweatpants and rest your fingers against your clit. 

Even the slight pressure makes you moan and Agatha jolts from the vibrations. You scrape your teeth against her clit as your tongue thrashes against her entrance and she makes a loud noise. 

When you curl your tongue inside her as deep as it’ll go, she gasps and grinds down harder. You can feel her clit pulse against your lips and your nose and the little sounds escaping your own mouth spur her on. Her wetness becomes a coat on the bottom half of your face and her smell and taste overwhelm all your senses until your head is almost spinning. 

“Such a good girl,” she groans and you press on your clit. Your walls spasm around nothing and your hips jerk. “You’re doing so good, baby, keep doing that. You’re so fucking good.” 

You keep alternating between sucking on her clit and rubbing your tongue against it and then shoving your tongue inside her. She rides your face with vigor, hand tightening in your hair and angling you right where she wants, and you decide to stick out your flattened tongue for her to use. 

She knows what you’re doing and she moans before settling her cunt down and rocking back and forth on you. Her clit drags against your tongue, throbbing, and you feel your own pulse. You begin to slowly draw tight circles on your clit and pleasure already begins to spread through your body. Her sounds go straight to your cunt and you feel your underwear soaking even more. 

“Fuck, baby,” Agatha whimpers and you rub your clit faster, your own hips starting to grind against nothing. 

Her rhythm on top of you starts to falter and fall apart and she’s now just sporadically writhing to take what she needs—you let her. You collect your own wetness from your underwear and press harder through the fabric. There’s a wet circle surrounding your clit and it just makes it easier to get more stimulation, even though there’s not a lot of friction. 

“God, you’re so good—fuck, sweetheart, I’m going to come,” she chokes out and then you feel another gush of wetness on your tongue and she pants loudly as she keeps riding your mouth through her orgasm. Her hands still play with her nipples and watching her head thrown back in ecstasy triggers your own orgasm from almost nothing and you buck up against your fingers and moan against her cunt. 

She keeps grinding until she becomes too sensitive and pulls up and you inhale deeply. Agatha moves a thigh over your head and settles onto her heels while she breathes heavily, looking down at you. You can feel how sticky and wet your face is, much like the mess in your underwear. 

“You did so good,” she says softly, reaching over to wipe your lips and you almost pull away so you can keep the taste of her lingering. You smile and lift yourself up to your elbows and then shift backwards to get the rest of your body onto the bed. 

Pain explodes in your knee as you bend it wrong and you gasp, eyes instantly watering. Your head drops back and you groan and frantically try to straighten your leg to get the ache to go away. 

It doesn’t work. 

“Hey, honey, are you okay?” Agatha asks, concern evident in her voice and you shake your head quickly. 

“It hurts,” you hiss. 

She thinks for a second and jumps off the bed before practically running out of the room. You stifle a sob when it only gets worse and she comes back not even a minute later with a glass of water and a pill between her fingers in one hand and a bag of ice in the other. 

With her help, you’re able to get fully on the bed and turn so you’re resting against the pillows. She puts one of the shams under your knee and holds the bag of ice there and then gives you the pain pill to take. 

You begin to cry quietly and she takes the glass of water from you, puts it on the nightstand, and then slides right next to you to tuck you into her embrace. She holds you while you shake into her arms and she presses soft kisses to your head. 

“Shh, I got you. I got you,” she whispers. “I’m right here, baby. I got you.” 

——

Six months later, the day after you graduate college, the doctor clears you to get in the pool. 

“Only twenty to thirty minutes,” he had told you, “and very minimal kicking. The moment your knee starts to hurt, get out and do your stretches. Make sure you ice it after. You’ll likely feel some light pressure and that’s okay. But do not push yourself.” 

You weren’t even sure if you wanted to get back into swimming. You had spent many nights talking with Agatha about it, but ultimately, she had convinced you that you should. 

Just to get some closure. And it wasn’t like you were going to compete or anything. Plus, it would be good physical therapy. 

“There’s my favorite swimmer,” your professor says when you get out of your car and walk over to her. She’s leaning against the wall of the natatorium, waiting for you. Your parents had taken you out for a celebratory brunch before heading home this morning and you hadn’t even mentioned swimming again to them. 

Only Agatha knew you were going to. 

You smile despite yourself and press a chaste kiss to her lips. Even though you’ve graduated, you still don’t want to get her into any trouble. 

Ever since the injury happened, you’ve practically lived at her house. She took you for your surgery and was right there after you woke up, as promised. She gave you more leniency than any other professor did and helped you constantly with school work and anything else you needed. She went to all your physical therapy appointments with you and held you while you cried from the pain or when you failed to meet a benchmark. She told you how proud she was of you for every slight improvement you showed and gently applied sunscreen to the nasty scar that stretched along your knee. Whereas you had a hard time even looking at it, she kissed it every night and told you that you’re so brave and strong. 

It made you believe it yourself. 

Agatha also was with you the entire way of the investigation into your coach. While you spoke to the investigator alone, your professor was outside of the room and pulled you into a warm hug the second you got out. And every time after when the investigator would call you to clarify or ask you about another teammate’s interview, Agatha held your hand. 

After the investigation dragged on for two months, your coach resigned before a verdict was reached. A hollow victory, but a victory nonetheless. 

She came with you to the championship meet in March to support your team and listened with an adorable smile on her face as you droned on and on about swimming and the girls at the meet and of course she didn’t miss the wistful look in your eyes when your teammates ran over to you or when you got excited about a fast time someone swam. 

And when you asked Agatha if she would come with you on your first swim back after hurting your knee, she kissed you and said, “Of course, honey.” 

“Just take it nice and slow,” she tells you now as she opens the door to the pool for you. The smell of chlorine hits you and the air feels thick, but you inhale deeply. Even though you’d never admit it to anyone but Agatha, you missed it. 

You set your bag on the bleachers right in front of lane one. She sits down and watches appreciatively as you strip off your shoes and socks, sweatshirts, and sweatpants to reveal your favorite lavender swimsuit. 

It’s your first time putting on your cap in six months and Agatha chuckles when the silicone snaps against your forehead and you wince. You give her a playful glare and she holds her hands up in defense. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” you say and she reaches over to take your hand briefly and give it a little shake. 

“Of course, honey,” she says and then smirks. “If I’d known how hot you look in your swimsuit, I would’ve come to all your meets.” 

You pretend to be offended but a giggle breaks free. “I probably would’ve been too distracted looking at you to swim fast. Oh, hey—are you the five-hundred freestyle?” 

Agatha looks confused. “What?” 

“Cause you take my breath away,” you say with a cheesy grin. She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Are you a slippery pool deck? Because I’m falling for you.” 

She snorts adoringly and waves her hand. “Go get in the pool.” 

You give her one last puppy-dog look. “Are you a flipturn? Cause I’m head over heels for you.” 

Agatha shakes her head but a smile peaks through. “You’re cute.” 

With a smile, you peck her cheek and grab your goggles before walking over to the lane. Once you’re at the gutter, you pause and take a deep breath before looking over your shoulder. Agatha gives you an encouraging nod and you put your goggles on and jump in. 

The water envelopes you and the world goes silent and you just float for a second. Memories come rushing back to you, both good and bad, but you push them out of your mind and pull yourself to the surface. 

You gently kick off the wall and when you take your first stroke, you’re sorely reminded how out of shape you are. Water slips through your fingers and it feels like you’re moving through molasses but the ache in your shoulders is a good one. 

You feel alive. 

Twenty minutes passes by quickly and just as the doctor ordered, you don’t kick much at all, but when you do, there’s only a slight twinge in your knee and it goes away the more you move. 

When you get out, you can almost feel the dopamine pumping through your veins and you realize just how much you’ve missed working out. 

“How was it?” Agatha asks when you walk over to her. She hands you your towel and you graciously take it. Freezing and soaking wet after getting out is not something you’ve missed and no matter how hard you and your teammates tried to get the maintenance crew to turn up the temperature inside, they wouldn’t.

“It felt really good,” you admit honestly and she beams. “I think I want to start swimming again, just recreationally. Maybe a few times a week.” 

She slings an arm around you after you wrap your towel around you and fasten it into your swimsuit straps like a dress and slide your shoes and socks on. “That’s awesome, honey. I’m really happy for you. Your leg still feels okay?” 

“Didn’t hurt at all,” you tell her happily and she squeezes your bicep. 

Agatha leads you to the door before snickering to herself. “Hey, baby. Are you taper? Because you’re everything I’ve been waiting for.” 

Your laugh is hysterical. “Did you look that one up?” you ask once you can breathe again and Agatha shrugs sheepishly. 

She holds the door open for you and you walk out before interlocking your fingers and tugging her by the hand to her car. 

“I love it,” you say and a smirk plays on your lips. “Now hurry up and take me home so I can show you my breaststroke.” 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1

[kjhbsies]

Too much?

Smallville Clark Kent x reader

synopsis: Clark was too busy saving Smallville, and Y/n just wanted a little attention. But when he told her to stop being clingy, She took it to heart�� pulling away completely.

wordcount: 1,771

note: 16+ angst to fluff

divider from @enchanthings

masterlist

"Am I okay?" Y/n echoed, tears welling in her eyes as she stepped forward. "You seriously had the audacity to ask me that?"

Clark blinked, completely thrown off guard. "What—?"

"Our date, Clark. You stood me up. Again."

His stomach dropped. And Clark opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Y/n wasn't finished.

"I waited for you for hours at the diner. I called. I texted. And nothing! No explanation, no anything. Just me looking like an idiot in front of everyone while my boyfriend completely blew me off."

Clark swallowed, "Y/n, I—"

"I'm so sick of this, Clark. This is the third time this has happened. And I know— God, I know you're busy. That people need you. But what about me? I'm your girlfriend."

Clark's jaw clenched. He had been through hell tonight, barely keeping Smallville safe, and how he was being berated for doing the right thing?

"Y/n, you know that's not fair." He shot back, voice sharper than intended. "I can't ignore people just because of a date."

Y/n scoffed. "Wow. That's just... great."

Clark exhaled sharply, patience wearing thin. "I'm not saying that, but you're acting—"

"Like what?" She challenged, tilting her head.

Clark hesitated, but the words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Clingy. I just—" He groaned, running a hand down his face. "I need space, Y/n."

Silence.

And then, something in her head shifted.

Y/n quickly wiped the tears off her face. The anger in her eyes didn't die out, but something colder settled in. Y/n inhaled a sharp breath and took a small step back.

Clark immediately regretted it.

"Y/n, I—"

"Got it. I'm sorry." She said, voice almost detached.

Clark felt like the ground beneath him had just shifted. "Wait, I—"

But she didn't let him finish. She quickly turned to her heel and walked as fast away as she could.

And Clark did nothing but watch her disappear from his sight.

For the first time in what felt like weeks, Clark actually got some rest. Deep, uninterrupted sleep. His body had needed it. His mind had been craving it. But the moment he opened his eyes, the argument last night was the first thing that crossed his mind.

Clark exhaled slowly, sitting up on the worn-out couch in the loft, running a frustrated hand on his hair. The barn was eerily quiet in the morning light, but his thoughts weren't.

He told himself over and over that it was probably for the best that Y/n was leaving him alone. That's what he wanted, right? He had been overwhelmed by Smallville's never-ending chaos, by his responsibilities, by the weight of everything he was trying to juggle. He just needed time to breathe, to think, to clear out his mind. And Y/n, for the first time, was giving it to him.

So why does it feel so wrong?

He shook the thought away, forcing himself to focus on the present. He had farm chores to do, and things he needed to take care of. He'd see Y/n later. He'd apologize after everything was settled down.

Except... he never got the chance. Because Y/n was nowhere.

She had stayed at Chloe's house for tonight. The next morning, she was out with her parents for the entire day. The day after that? She was doing something, somewhere, but Clark had no idea what. And the next day, and the next.

And suddenly, Clark had realized— he had no clue what she was doing at any moment.

For as long as he could remember, Y/n had always been there. She was in his messages before he could open his phone. She was calling him just to tell him something entirely random, or waiting for him at the Torch, or showing up at the loft with snacks. She was always present. But now? Nothing.

Clark had caught himself glancing at his phone every few minutes, waiting for a text that didn't come. His inbox was empty of her usual good morning and good night messages. No texts about her breakfast. No updates about her cat. No sudden burst of excitement at whatever TV show she was obsessing over.

Clark had shook it off, telling himself that it was fine. This is what he asked for and he should be grateful for it.

But the lack of her presence left a void in his heart. He missed her voice. He missed the way she would randomly call him in the middle of the day, just to tell him the most insignificant details of her afternoon. He missed her rants about school, her dramatic complaints about the people that pisses her off, and the way she would text him just because she thought about him.

Clark found himself staring at his phone, scrolling through their old messages, re-reading conversations he had taken for granted. He hovered over her contact, debating whether he should call first.

But he didn't.

Clark didn't remember running to Y/n's house. He didn't even realize that his feet had taken him there until he was standing beneath her bedroom window, hands shaking, heart pounding violently against his chest.

He had fought off yet another creature, saving Smallville again, but for once, Clark didn't feel like a hero.

For the past week, Clark had endured every kind of physical battle ever imagined— facing off against meteor freaks, barely dodging blows that could've shattered his bones, and throwing himself into danger with no hesitation. But none of those compared to losing Y/n. Nothing could've even come close to that.

His hands gripped the windowsills, knuckles turning white. He had climbed through this window a hundred times, sneaking into her room when he wanted to escape and when he wanted to see her. It had always felt so easy, so natural. But tonight, his knees felt weak.

Still, he climbed inside, landing on the floor, breath uneven as his eyes found her. She was curled up in her bed, her hair splayed over the pillows as she was reading one of the books Chloe had recommended. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated her features and Clark thought she was beautiful. Heavenly.

Y/n looked at him with a cold stare, sitting upright before setting the book down on her nightstand. She didn't say anything. She didn't rush into his arms. She didn't scold him for going through her windows like he always did.

"Why are you here?"

Clark took a step forward, his legs threatening to give out beneath him. "I wanted to talk."

Silence.

She just stared at him, head tilting to scan his face.

His heart clenched, his breath catching in his throat as his knees hit the edge of her bed. "Please," He begged, voice raw, and with pure desperation. "Please talk to me."

Y/n exhaled sharply, trying to toughen up as she could feel her resolve cracking. "What do you want me to say, Clark?"

"I— I miss you."

"You miss me?" She echoed, scoffing. "That's funny because a week ago, you called me clingy."

Clark's jaw clenched, regret tightening in his chest. "I was stupid. I thought— I thought I needed time to figure things out."

"For what, Clark? To decide if I was too much for you? That my love was overwhelming just because I wanted attention for my boyfriend who I haven't spent time much with for weeks?"

Clark opened his mouth, but the words died out his throat. Because deep down, he knew she was right.

Y/n looked away, angrily blinking away her tears. "I gave you space," She continued, voice quieter now. "I pulled away. I stopped texting, stopped calling, stopped clinging to you like you hated so much. Did it make you feel good now?"

"No," Clark immediately answered. "I hated it. I thought space was all I wanted. I thought it would make things easier. But it didn't." He took a hesitant step forward, reaching out, fingers trembling. "I missed you. I missed your texts. I missed your calls. I missed hearing about your day, about your cat, about your gossip with Chloe. I missed you— all of you."

"I thought you wanted to break up," Y/n admitted. "And I was ready to give it to you if it would make you feel any better—"

"No, no, no," Clark interrupted, immediately dropping to his knees beside her bed. He reached for her hand, grasping it gently as if she would slip away at any second. "Don't say that, baby, please."

Y/n stiffened. "Clark..."

"No," He pleaded, shaking his head. "Don't say it. Don't—" His breath hitched, squeezing her hands tighter. "Don't say we should end this. Don't say we should part ways. I can't—" His voice cracked, and suddenly, his vision blurred with tears. "I can't lose you."

"You hurt me, Clark."

"I know, baby, I know. And I'll spend forever making it up to you if you'll let me."

"I don't know if I can go back to how things were."

Clark exhaled shakily, hands reaching up to cup her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek with such tenderness that Y/n shuddered under his touch. "Then let's start over. Let me love you better."

Y/n let out a choked laugh, shaking her head. "You're such a sap, Kent."

Clark smiled through the tears, relief flooding his chest. "Only for you."

A long beat of silence stretched between them, heavy with emotions too big to be put into words. And then, Clark leaned in, his lips brushing against hers— gentle at first, testing, waiting.

Y/n melted into the kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him close.

Clark let out a desperate sound, his body pressing closer as if trying to mold himself into her as if trying to make up for every second they had been apart.

The kiss deepened— slow, intoxicating, filled with longing. Clark’s hands trembled as they slid down her back, holding her so close it almost hurt.

“I love you,” Clark whispered, lips hovering over hers.

"You better.”

And then she pulled him down again, her lips claiming his, her body pressing into him, her hands gripping him like he was the one who had been missing her all along.

Clark let out a breathless laugh between kisses, his heart feeling whole again for the first time in days.

Maybe he had been strong enough to fight monsters, to save a town, to lift things heavier than any man could imagine.

But when it came to Y/N?

She was the only one who could bring him to his knees.

©kjhbsies

[a-simple-imagine]

Instructions Unclear

Synopsis: Surprising Van one day after work leads to revelations neither of you were expecting…

Pairing: Adult!Van Palmer x reader

Words: 2.7k+

A/N - will nobody being interested in van palmer stop me from writing about them?? no, she’s literally the love of my life. if you’re the anon that requested the taissa fic it’s next on my list

WARNINGS - swearing and minor sexual references

The cool night air clings to all too-warm skin. How were you already sweating? A deep sense of anxiety sits low in your stomach, but the space is shared by a degree of giddiness. You were merely excited so why did your body seemingly react like you were heading into battle? You almost talked yourself out of coming as you walked down the streets. You still might. An all-too-tight grip on the plastic bags in hand. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe this would merely ruin everything. You have to keep telling yourself that it's fine. Don't make this any bigger than It needs to be. The pit in your stomach is only made worse when the redhead yanks open the door. The grey sweatpants and plain white t-shirt combo induce a sharp intake of breath. She was winding down for the night. A visible display of confusion. This really was a bad idea. Too late now.

"...Hey," hummed slowly; the wrinkle in her brow deepened as her eyes drifted over you. Your weight shifts from one foot to the other. "I wasn't expecting you tonight."

"Yeah... sorry," was all you could think to say. That sense of regret now swallows any giddiness you were feeling as you consider how disorienting this must be. "Thought I'd surprise you."

And her expression doesn't change. Clearly surprising her was a misjudgement on your part. Nobody likes unexpected company. Now you were just an inconvenience. Something to ruin her otherwise peaceful night. "Uh, right," for a moment you think she may send you away. Some excuse about how busy she is or whatever but she does not. Instead, she opens the door wider and steps aside, ushering you inside. "It's cool."

Even as you step over the threshold you cannot help but wonder if your company is unwanted. You would prefer her to turn you away at the door than humour you. That was more her style when it came to this kind of thing. Van Palmer was strictly interested in a casual relationship. A transactional relationship. She had made that very clear on her dating profile. Very clear the first time you came over. And very clear every time since. You have never really done this before. Just hung out. You would chat sometimes before sleeping together. A little texting back and forth. "I brought food," you explain. The click of the lock, a signal to walk further into her space. It wasn't your first time here and yet you still feel like a stranger. Like you were intruding on some big night. There was nobody here but the television flickers with black and white images. Van trails behind you. Blocking you from a quick escape. You're sure she wouldn't mind if you made up some lie to leave; she would probably welcome it but now you felt trapped. "Have you eaten?"

"Not yet," a blur that almost collides with your shoulder as she zooms past. A beeline for the kitchen space where she begins tidying. Moving stray glasses and plates into the sink. It really wasn't a bother; you didn't care how it looked but it doesn't seem like your place to make her stop. "What'd you bring?" you place the white plastic bag on the table and begin unpacking. It was not anything fancy. You had merely stopped at a takeaway on your way over. It was late enough for her to have finished work but not that long ago. You figured if you caught her quickly then she would not have had dinner yet. Turns out you had been correct. "You want a beer? It's kinda all I got." Van does not wait for a response, already passing the bottle across the table. Exchanging a small cardboard box and some chopsticks for a glass bottle that you place to one side.

"I also got you something," You add. "Else- I mean, something else."

"Oh," Curiosity peaked as her actions slowed, settling into the chair opposite as she opened up her food.

"Not sure how into it you'll be but," A shrug. Even now after being welcomed into her home you feel embarrassed. This was too much. A gift was too much. Making this into something it's not but now that you have mentioned it, you cannot take it back. She is watching you with expectations. It was pretty much the only other thing you brought. On the table you place the gift; a lego set.

For a moment she seems genuinely perplexed. "this is what you think I'm into?" A strange gift for a person in their late forties but from what you have learned about Van this seemed like something she would enjoy. She owned a video rental store which was steeped in nostalgia. VHS tapes, cassettes and old toys and comics. She had some newer stuff too but the main draw was the old-school vibes. So a Lego set seemed right up her street and it was a set for adults that when pieced together would create a retro portable radio. Still, panic settles over your nerves. Maybe she thinks this an insult? Some would call it childish. But a smile tugs at her lips as she chuckles. "I'm just fucking with you," Van leans over the table to grab the box; the pieces all clattering around inside as she drops it against the table. "You got this for me?"

A shrug. An awkward little smile returned. "Yeah"

"Sit," Van instructs as she lovingly shovels chopsticks full of noodles into her mouth. You descend into the seat opposite, digging into your own food. You figured it would be more awkward just getting food for her. "This is really cool. Do you wanna start it now?" a pause. You weren't expecting the offer but now you have a split second to decide before it becomes awkward.

"uh... sure, yeah," You nod a little too eagerly. Half a smile settling on your lips. She drops the chopsticks into the noodle box and sets on opening that lego. In a similar fashion to a kid on Christmas, there is no grace to her movements. They rip it open and dump the contents onto the middle of the table. Thank god everything came in little plastic bags.

"Shit- this is a lot," They express, looking into the cardboard box and fishing out the instructions. "how many pieces is this?" She searches the outside of the box for answers. Was this too much? You had tried to go for something not too small but not obnoxiously large either. A careful balance of buying Lego sets for middle-aged women.

"Sorry, I just went for something I thought you'd think was cool,"

"no no, I'm not complaining. Just gonna take a minute to finish is all," Van smiles to herself. "Guess we just do a bag each and come together. That good for you?" A brief glance, you nod obediently. "There's only one set of instructions though."

"I can probably find some online," Getting your phone you set to work on finding that while she flips through the paper copy. Half her attention has returned to her dinner; lazily filling her mouth with long strings of pasta and seasoned vegetables. It does not take very long for you to google the set and find a PDF copy on the official website. "Okay, I'm set." The redhead ushers one of the small bags of bricks towards you. Guess you were starting with the first bag. Van with the second.

"So how was your day?" you ask, ripping open the bag and beginning to clip them together based on the images on your phone screen. Small talk had never been your strong suit. It never seemed to bother Van much. You weren't exactly there for stimulating conversation. Plus the other woman was as awkward as they came. You made it work. It worked very well if records show.

"Pretty chill," She replies. "got to introduce a girl to the joys of classic gangster movies."

Ah, films. An interest of Van's everyone who ever interacted with her knew about. "oh I bet she just loved that," You tease; a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

"Hey- they're classics for a reason," She urges. "She'll get it once she watches a few." You don't doubt her. "How was your day?"

"Long," truly was the only way to describe it. You wish it had been as simple as recommending movies to teenagers. "Hence the surprise."

"Ah so that's why you're actually here," Van chuckles, a teasing little smirk suggesting there's more to be said. "You didn't have to do all this to get me into bed. A simple 'you up?' text would have sufficed."

"That's not..." Your voice trails off; internally wincing at the notion this was all just a way to get her into bed. That was a logical conclusion that you can't really argue with. Came with the casual territory. You fall into silence after that. Both conventrationing on your own individual parts. Clipping colourful plastic together between mouthfuls of dinner or swigs of beer. The soft mumble of the film van never bothered to turn off. It sets a nice atmosphere. However, it does not take long before your attention falls from assisting her in the construction of this radio, to merely admiring her do the work alone.

"You're staring," Busted. Not so much as a spared glance but it is enough for your eyes to blink away like a naughty child caught cheating. The clicking of bricks as you calm the butterflies in your stomach. But it's not enough. And when you are sure she is not paying attention to you anymore, your eyes flicker back to watching her. Van Palmer was beautiful. Handsome. And you would never get tired of looking at her. The level of concentration was akin to a very important task rather than such a silly task. Firey locks of red curtain either side of her face. The scar above her left eyebrow is more prominent in her frown. That sparkle of childlike wonder in such captivating eyes as she plays with her toys. Every so often her expression would change; a purse of the lips. The signs of the inside of her cheek between teeth. And your particular favourite, the way she scrunched up her nose. It was adorable. She was adorable. And suddenly your cheeks felt hot and the pounding of your heartbeat was so loud in your ears as you blurt out the words.

"I can't do this,"

"You can't put together plastic bricks?" Her tone suggested playful teasing but her expression was one of curiosity. Or perhaps confusion. "I know it says eighteen on the box but I'm pretty sure a kid could do this,"

"No Van," A soft sigh. "Not the lego, this. I can't do this," You use your hand to usher between the two of you. Her face relaxes. A much more neutral expression settling.

"Oh," a pause. "Weird way to break it off like,"

"I know. I just..." you glance at the pieces of Lego scattered across the table. Nothing about this felt casual for you anymore. Or more so, you don't want it to be. How you didn't realise before now was crazy. After a long day, all you wanted to do was see her. You brought food because you knew she probably hadn't eaten. You bought her a stupid Lego set just because you thought it would make her happy. Those butterflies weren't general anxiety. You like Van. You like Van a lot. But when you first matched on some stupid dating app, you knew what this was and had been fine with that. Casual. Why was it so hard to just fuck a beautiful woman and have it mean nothing more? Van was hot as fuck, knew what she wanted and was great in bed.

"Why'd you come if you don't wanna see me anymore? That's pretty fucked up." there is a playful lilt to her tone that only made you feel worse. She did not even seem to care. You were probably just another drop in the ocean to her.

"I didn't know," you admit. You start fiddling with a stray plastic brick to avoid looking at her. Avoid getting pulled back in by those captivating blue eyes. Twisting it round and round and round.

"So what was the kicker?"

"Watching you just now," You admit. A small shrug of your shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"Damn! Bring me a gift and then decide you never wanna see me again once we start-"

"You're wrong" you interject, forcing yourself to look at them. You don't expect them to be staring back and as your eyes meet, that little burst of confidence disappears. "I- It's not that I don't wanna see you. That's all I wanna do and that's the problem," Van continues to look at you, clearly expecting more of an explanation. "I really fucking like you Van. You're beautiful, so so smart and like really fucking funny and it's all just too much. Watching you play with your little lego just made me realise I don't think I can do casual anymore,"

"Oh," Now you expect her to say more but she doesn't. She goes back to playing. Opening up a fresh bag; the plastic bricks clatter against the wood.

"And I get that's what you want. That's all this was ever meant to be but if I don't put a stop to a now I'm just gonna be torturing myself."

"I get it- you don't have to explain." Van clarifies making you feel silly. You sit in a very awkward silence for a minute or two. She continues building. You watch her do it. But it's clear at this point that the only thing left to do is leave. The chair scrapes across the floor as you push away from the table and raise to your feet.

"I'm sorry," you express as if catching feelings was something you could just control. Grabbing your jacket.

"Uh... do you wanna stay over?" only one arm in your jacket when you come to a stop. Had you heard that right? Was she asking you to stay?

"What?"

"Do you wanna stay over tonight... maybe?" The woman repeats. She isn't really playing with the lego anymore just staring at it. You swallow hard.

"Van I can't," you say. "It'll feel just as shitty in the morning as it does now."

"I don't mean it like that," Van expresses. "When you showed up at my door unannounced I should have sent you away. It should have been so easy but I just couldn't because I was happy to see you. I wanted to see you."

"Oh," Is that a bad thing? She was making it seem like it was.

"Yeah... and I indulged it- I let you in and you brought food and this gift and I was like fuck, she must really like me" Van continues to explain. Not so subtly calling you out. "and even then I didn't want you to leave so stay."

"Van-"

"I want you to stay," and you swear your heart skips a beat. A mix of emotions swirling in your stomach. Equal parts excitement and bafflement. "If you want to like- even just to finish the lego,"

You're kind of at a loss for words. Scared to say anything that might ruin the moment. Her words weren't the same as yours. There was no confirmation of feelings but a plea to stay instead. You withdraw your arm from the jacket, tossing it over the back of the chair. Maybe it was enough to feel wanted in the moment? She didn't seem the type to manipulate your feelings just to sleep together. Her words hold weight. She was happy to see you. Happy to just sit and build Lego. You lower back into the chair. Van watches; a smile slowly spreading over her lips. But still doubt remains and you have just enough conviction to ask a follow-up question.

"What changed?"

Van shrugs. "not too many girls show up at my door with Chinese and Lego sets these days." and a once very serious conversation has returned to the playful nature that constantly comes with talking to her. "it really worked in your favour," she reaches for a plastic bag of lego and slides it across the table before going back to her own thing. A moment of pause. Eyes on the lego but a mischievous grin. "and not just because watching you do nerdy shit really turns me on,"

[lotvsflwrr]

CRIMSON TRAILS: Lavender Blossoms

pairing: John Marston x f!reader

wc: 3,7k

summary: You wake up in the Van der Linde camp, tended by outlaws whose kindness feels almost dangerous. Wounds heal while the warmth of quiet companionship chips away at your guarded heart. But Blackwater looms on the horizon like a brewing storm about to break, and you’re left with a hard choice to make.

a/n: I suck at writing summaries, but here we go. Chapter two of CT is finally here wohoo!! Had to change the timeline a bit 'cause it wasn’t making much sense, but anywayy. We get to see our dear protagonist meet part of the gang, the girls and, of course, Jenny </3. Special mention: John's bedhead. ohw he makes my heart hurt. Next chapter’s gonna be full of angst, so enjoy these quiet moments while they last. As always, comments and reblogs are super appreciated! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist.

masterlist I ao3 link

Consciousness returned to you in slow, painful waves. You tried to open your eyes but soon found out that the task was harder than it seemed, as if they were weighted down by unseen hands. Pain pulsed in your side in time with your heartbeat, creating a dull, insistent drumming pattern. It was the first thing you truly felt—besides the scent of coffee and burning wood. 

You almost let yourself drift back to sleep when the sound of unfamiliar voices pulled you back to reality. The conversations were too distant to grasp with precision, blending into the rhythmic sounds of life around you. You weren’t alone.

This wasn’t your camp.

Realization crashed over you like cold water, sending a jolt of awareness through your weary body. Your fingers curled into the soft fabric beneath you as you struggled to sit up, only for a sharp pain to rip beneath your ribs. A choked gasp slipped from your lips, and your hands flew to your side, brushing against the thick bandages wrapped snugly around your torso. 

The bounty hunters, the cabin, the blood. It all came flooding back in jagged pieces. You looked around, trying to understand where you were. There was a small metal wash basin beside you, a half-empty tin cup, a chamber pot and some spare bandages. The last thing you remembered was John’s arms holding you steady on his horse and the burning taste of whiskey sliding down your throat. Now you were in a tent somewhere else, somewhere unfamiliar.

A shadow shifted at the edge of your vision. You quickly turned your eyes to the entrance of the tent, the action causing dizziness to cloud your sight. When your vision cleared, you found a woman standing at the entrance of the tent. Her graying hair neatly gathered in an updo style. Her sharp eyes studied you with an expression that danced between relief and scrutiny. 

“Well, took you long enough,” she remarked, arms crossed. “Thought we might’ve lost you for good.”

“Where—” you tried to speak but your throat felt drier than the cracking earth beneath Ambarino's unforgiving sunlight. Swallowing against the scratching pain, you cleared your throat and tried again. “Where am I?”

The woman stepped inside, setting a cup of what seemed steaming herbal tea beside you with a practiced ease. “You’re in camp,” she said simply. “Dutch Van der Linde’s camp.”

Dutch Van der Linde.

The name ricocheted through your mind as you struggled, in your morning haze, to pinpoint exactly where you’d heard that name before. An old, familiar wariness settled into your bones as realization dawned on you. You had heard tales of the infamous ‘Dutch’s boys’, a gang of ill reputed criminals that roamed the west. You had spent your whole life avoiding people like them, trusting no one but yourself. Yet here you were, in their camp, wounded and vulnerable.

The weight of her hands anchored you to reality as she pressed them on your shoulders, guiding you to lie back on the bed. You winced as your back met the soft mattress beneath you but you kept yourself quiet as her hands swiftly worked to check on your bandaged wound.

“You’ve got a name, Miss?” Her voice was steady, her gaze barely flicking up to meet yours, too focused on securing a fresh wrap of linen around your torso. You hesitated for a moment, turning your head to look at the patched canvas walls of the dark green tent. 

She let out a short puff of air, then adjusted your blouse back down on your exposed torso. "Not much use in keepin' secrets here, girl. We’ve patched you up and given you shelter. Least you can do is tell us what to call you."

After another beat, you finally murmured your name to her. 

She nodded slightly as if tucking the information away before rising back to her feet. “Susan Grimshaw,” she offered in return. 

You tried to push yourself upright on the bed, aching to stretch your legs for a moment, but the woman–Miss Grimshaw, was quicker. Her firm hand guided you back down.

“Don’t even think about moving Miss, you don’t want those stitches to tear. Lay down and heal.” 

Defeated, you sank back into the bed, your head resting once again on the flat surface of the pillow. She gave you one last glance before turning towards the tent’s entrance. And just like that, she was gone, leaving you behind with only the steam of the herbal tea by your side and a lingering sense of unease.

───── •✧✧• ─────

Days blurred together as you healed, the world beyond the tent slowly coming into focus and with it, the various gang members. You met the other girls in fragments— the first one to visit you was Jenny. She came to you with a bowl of venison soup, the broth sloshing dangerously with her every energetic movements. That evening, the quiet air that had wrapped around you in the tent was shooed away by her warm company. 

While you remained mostly quiet, she chatted away, sharing details, but mostly gossip, about the other people in camp. Despite yourself, you listen closely, learning a good bunch about the gang’s dynamic. It was impossible not to get drawn in a conversation with her. 

After Jenny, the other girls began visiting you at one point or another in the past week. Sometimes to check on your stitches, other times simply to take a breath and escape Miss Grimshaw’s relentless nagging about chores. While the conversations you shared had never been deep, there was something comforting in the consistency of their visits. You’d come to enjoy their company more than you would have imagined. 

One afternoon, Mary-Beth arrived with a fresh cup of tea in one hand and a book on the other. Settling the cup into your welcoming hands, she plopped down beside you on your seated position on the bed with the familiar ease that had easily grown between you and the other girls. 

She always had a quiet warmth about her, a presence that felt oddly familiar, like you had been friends since childhood.

"Good afternoon Miss. Figured we could pick up where we left off," she said, flipping the book open to a well worn page. "It’s gettin’ to the good part, y’know."

You huffed a soft laugh, shaking your head. "You sure this is meant to keep me entertained, or are you just lookin’ for an excuse to escape Miss Grimshaw again?"

Mary-Beth grinned, unfazed. "Bit of both, I suppose. But don’t act like you ain't been enjoyin’ it."

She wasn’t wrong. The protagonist was a naive, blushing girl that would often frustrate both you and Mary Beth. Yet the flowery words in which the story was written, the stolen glances, the slow-burning romance—it was a world far removed from your own, a world you could only dream of, but nonetheless, one that had kept your mind occupied through the long, quiet hours of recovery.

"I could use some shade today. Can’t you believe spring’s only just begun and we’re already sweatin’?” 

You hummed in quiet agreement, sipping carefully on the hot drink in your hands.

“You’re lucky, you know," Mary-Beth mused, playing with the edge of the paper, creasing it then straightening it then repeating the motion once again. "Not everyone gets their own tent ‘round here. This one’s John’s."

You blinked. "Mr. Marston’s?"

She nodded, a small knowing smile tugging at her lips. "He gave it up while you heal. Said you’d need the space more than him." There was something unreadable in her expression, a quiet amusement dancing in her eyes you couldn’t quite place, but before you could press on the matter, she shifted the topic of conversation. You took a mental note to thank him as soon as you were able to see him.

"You probably haven’t seen much of the men," she continued, glancing toward the tent’s entrance. "They’ve been busy in Blackwater."

At your questioning look, she leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "They’re planning a bank job. Real deal, from what I hear. Dutch has ‘em runnin’ in circles tryin’ to figure out the best plan."

You hadn’t noticed until now just how absent the gang’s men had been. Aside from the reverend and Mr.Pearson, who had stopped by one evening with a steaming bowl of what he dramatically called his "miracle rabbit stew"—a recipe he claimed to have learned during his time in the navy, insisting it would have you back on your feet in no time, you hadn’t seen much of them at all.

The weight of her words settled over you as you turned them over in your mind. You hadn’t planned on sticking around long, figuring it was best not to wear out your welcome in a gang, but now you were starting to understand just how tangled things were in this camp.

As Mary-Beth started to read aloud, her voice soft and even, you found yourself only half-listening. The more she read the more the words blurred together, ultimately becoming a muffled background noise to the thoughts that refused to quiet. You should’ve been focusing on the story, the main love interest and the naive protagonist were finally alone ready to spill their hearts out to each other—but instead, your mind was stuck on something else.

How to leave.

You had no intention of overstaying your welcome. The gang had already done more for you than they needed to–patching you up, offering you shelter, keeping you fed. You owed them for that, and you sure ain’t the kind of person to take stranger kindness lightly. But you also know better than to linger where you don’t belong and get tangled up in something you can’t walk away from.

The Van der Linde gang was infamous, their name spoken in hushed tones across the West, the danger of its leader highlighted by the hefty reward printed on his wanted posters. Their generosity didn’t change the fact that they were outlaws, and outlaws attracted trouble. Now, with the looming bank job in Blackwater, it was only a matter of time before that trouble doubled.

A hit like that wouldn’t go unnoticed. The law would come down hard on the region. Bounty hunters, too. The very people you had spent your whole life trying to avoid.

You needed to be gone before that happened.

The trouble was figuring out how to leave without coming across as ungrateful. These people had saved your life, but if you stayed any longer, you risked getting caught up in something you couldn’t escape.

And you weren’t sure which choice weighed heavier.

And then there was John.

You hadn’t spoken to him since the day he and Hosea brought you to camp. His presence lingered in your thoughts—persistent and unwelcome, like a shadow that stretched, clouding your thoughts no matter how hard you tried to turn away from it. You remembered the cold suspicion in his eyes that first day, the cold edge of the barrel of his gun pressed on your head, the sharpness in his voice when he thought you were an O’Driscoll. Perhaps he still did. But you also remembered the steady grip of his arms around your waist, keeping you balanced on his horse and the way he lingered nearby as the gang worked to stitch your wounds up.

There was something about him that intrigued you. But every time his figure crept  into your mind, he was always followed by two other, the woman he had a child with and the boy himself.

Jack was a sweet kid. Too sweet for a life like this. He had visited once with Abigail, with big curious eyes and tiny hands that clutched a bundle of flowering weeds—his own little gift for your well recovery. The gesture, as simple as it may had been stayed with you. The way he had beamed with pride as he handed them over, like he had done something grandiose melted your heart. Since then, Abigail had mentioned that he would often ask about you, sneaking in the tent even when he couldn’t visit.

Abigail herself stopped by a handful of times as well, though never for too long like Mary Beth or Karen, who gladly lingered for hours on. She had a warmth to her, but it was a warmth edged with tiredness, burdened by responsibilities that left little room for lingering around. During your quiet morning conversations over coffee, she had shared enough for you to see that whatever existed between her and John was…complicated, to put it lightly.

She insisted they weren’t together—not really. Said he wasn’t much of a father, that he had a habit of disappearing when things got hard. And yet, there was something in the way she spoke about him, a tired sort of fondness, an exasperation that had settled too deep to be anything but familiar.

Whatever they were, it wasn’t exactly over.

Mary Beth's voice carried you through the fading light of dusk into the darkness of the night and with that your thoughts lingered, pulling you into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning the air was crisp, carrying the scent of grass and woodsmoke, the remnants of last night’s campfire still lingering like ghosts between the various tents and wagons. The world outside your tent felt both foreign and familiar, its sounds and movements a rhythm you hadn’t yet fallen into. It had been over a week since you arrived, and though you had spent that time in the company of the women, the camp itself still felt like something foreign, something that did not yet belong to you.

You weren’t sure if it ever would.

Your body ached in protest with each careful step you took, muscles stiff from days of stillness, but you kept pushing through it. You had spent long enough hidden away, surrounded by patched canvas walls and dust. You needed to see this place properly, to breathe in something other than the tent’s musty air that with no doubt clung to your skin.

As you stepped out of the tent, your eyes briefly protested against the harsh morning light before they adjusted. Blinking against the pale brightness, you took in the camp. It was not exactly what you expected. Your wandering imagination led you to expect a few tents scattered around and much more chaos. Instead, it was a surprisingly well organized place, almost methodical. Multiple wagons were carefully placed throughout the space, some were makeshifts resting places while others were full of supplies. A cooking station stood on the outside near the chicken coop, a few tables were placed around the whole area and two campfires were visible from where you stood, one fairly near what had become your tent, or rather John’s, and the other one near the hitching post.

You caught sight of the others moving about their morning routines. Karen and Jenny sat near their wagon, laughing over something you couldn’t quite hear, their voices blending into the morning’s hum of conversation. Pearson was hunched over his cutting board, slicing through fresh pieces of red meat, humming a calm tune. A rhythmic crack of wood echoed from somewhere near one of the wagons—likely one of the men chopping firewood.

As your eyes wandered over the camp, they couldn’t help but follow a familiar figure. Near the hitching station, John stood tending to what seemed like his horse, his hands working over the worn saddle with practiced ease. The morning light cut against him, casting harsh shadows making it difficult to read his expression. His dark brown hair was still slightly disheveled from sleep, but there was an air of calmness in the way he moved.

For a moment, you considered going to him. You owed him a thanks, at the very least, for saving you that day, for bringing you back to camp and for giving up his own private space to you.

But before you could take a step, a familiar voice called out from behind.

“Mornin’, miss. Didn’t think we’d see you up and about so soon.”

You turned, finding Hosea seated on one of the logs near the campfire, watching you with an easy smile, though his sharp eyes carried something deeper—something that told you he had already read more from your expression than you would have liked.

You hesitated fro a moment before answering. “Figured I’d get some fresh air.”

“And how’re you feelin’?”

You exhaled, shifting your weight slightly. “Better.” The word left your lips before you could think too hard about whether it was true or not.

Hosea hummed knowingly, gesturing toward an empty spot beside him. “There’s space here.”

You debated brushing him off, but there was something about Hosea that made it difficult to do so. You learned he had a way of getting people to talk without ever asking much at all. With a quiet sigh, you moved towards the campfire, where only embers and charcoal remained, glowing faintly in the bright sunlight. You lowered yourself onto the log, careful not to tug at your stitches and ruin the dark blue cotton blouse Tilly had kindly lent you.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was calm, but expectant. He was waiting for something.

“Got somethin’ on your mind?” he asked eventually, though you got the distinct impression he already knew the answer.

You swallowed, gaze dropping to your hands. “I, uh…” The words suddenly felt heavy, clumsy on your tongue. “I was wonderin’ if my things were still around. I’d like to get the journal in my satchel.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was the most convenient excuse you could come up with. You did want your journal, most of all you wanted your dagger, but that was merely a small prt of the reason. A white lie if you will.

Hosea studied you for a moment before nodding. “If you’re worried about your belongings, don’t be. We’ve got ‘em safe.” His tone was light, but there was something else beneath it, something knowing. “That ain’t all that’s on your mind, though, is it?”

You exhaled slowly, your fingers curling against the fabric of your borrowed clothes.

He sighed, shaking his head with a small chuckle. “Y’know, I’ve been around long enough to recognize the look of someone thinkin’ about runnin’ away.” He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “Can always tell. It’s in the way folks hold themselves, like they don’t wanna settle in too much with the rest, ‘cause they’re afraid of what it means if they do.”

“But you don’t have to run, y’know.” His voice was gentler now, missing the teasing edge it carried before. “This life? It ain’t perfect–hell, half the time, it ain’t even good. You might think living through it alone is the safest bet, but trust me, having a place to return to, people to stand beside you when things go south.That makes the difference. You got folks here now, people willing to look out for you, if you let ‘em.”

His words settled over you like a weight, pressing against the thoughts you had spent days trying to ignore.

You hadn’t planned on staying. This place wasn’t meant to be anything more than a brief stop, a place to heal before continuing on your endless escape. But then, wasn’t that what they all were going through too?

“Chew on that thought for a bit.” Hosea stood, brushing off his vest before offering you a small, knowing smile. “I’ll be around if you need anythin’.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you alone with nothing but the weight of his words and the quiet stir of your own uncertainty.

The wind wove through camp. It rustled through drying laundry strung between trees, sent canvas flaps fluttering, and whistled low between the wagons. The hum of camp life pressed on—Dutch’s low drawl echoed as he talked to what you assumed to be his Miss, the rhythmic thunk of an axe splitting wood, the faint, off-key hum of the girls singing as they worked. Life moved forward, steady and unbothered, indifferent to your hesitation.

You weren’t sure if you envied that or resented it.

Before you could let yourself sink too deep into your thoughts, a sharp voice cut through the air like the cracking of a whip.

“There you are!”

The words snapped you out of your haze and you barely had time to turn before Miss Grimshaw came striding toward you, her gaze locking onto yours.

“I’m glad to see you up and about.” She said offering you a smile “If you’re well enough to be wanderin’ around camp, you’re well enough to start pullin’ your weight.”

She crossed her arms, sizing you up as if determining just how much use you could be.

“Figured you’d best be put to use,” she went on, her tone making it clear this wasn’t a suggestion. “Can’t have folk sittin’ ‘round doin’ nothin’. Clothes need mendin’. Come along now, girl.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel, already making her way toward the girl’s wagon, her skirts kicking up dust with each purposeful step, fully expecting you to follow without a word. There was clearly no room for protest.

You lingered for only a breath before letting out a quiet sigh and falling into step behind her. There wasn’t much of a choice if you planned on following Hosea’s advice.

And you were starting to.

Maybe staying meant hard work, meant bending to the unspoken rules that kept this place running, meant taking a risk. Maybe it meant swallowing your pride and accepting that survival sometimes came at the cost of independence. 

You weren’t ready to call this place home. Not yet. You had given up on the idea of home a long time ago, leaving it buried somewhere in the ashes of your past.

But maybe—just maybe, this could be something close.

And maybe, for the first time in a long while, you weren’t so ready to walk away.

taglist:

@laylasredemption

@photo1030

@starlightt180

@river-rose

@nalitali

@morethantheycansay

@missw0r1d

@dutchiepoo2

@aoioozora

@frillydolle

@johnsbunny

@dilf-luvr-4evr

@howtotrainabraincell

[scorpioriesling]

Hello! Love love LOVE your Bodhi/Ridoc/Liam work. Would you be willing to write a Bodhi x Reader smut where absolutely love sick jealous Bodhi finally gets his girl and wants to ruin her for anyone else? Merci xx

Blank Space

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairings: Bodhi x reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, minute injury

Summary: There were many good things about how you'd spent your time at Basgiath -- you'd made so many friends, been promoted to co-curator within the scribe quadrant, and even got to sit in on a few classes where you'd co-teach with Markham. Needless to say, college life was going quite well for you. That was, until you met him.

SR’s Note: I smell a mini series / multi-parter coming on... how do we feel? Who wants part two? Personally, I love where this is going. <3

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @freakishfandomfiend (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

It'd been 2 years since you'd dated anyone. 2 years without a relationship, 2 years of... well, other things lacking, as well. But, you had a lot on your plate -- you had gone to college, joined the scribe quadrant, and taken on a massive workload since you began your college experience.

There were good things about how you'd spent your time, too -- you'd made so many friends, been promoted to co-curator with Colonel Markham, and even got to sit in on a few classes.

Needless to say, college life was going quite well for you. That was, until you met him.

✧･ﾟ: *

"We have multiple riders stationed at the outposts," Markham droned on, delivering the most current events we had record of from a few days prior. "However, we still find ourselves unprepared when attacks occur -- why do we think this is?"

The lecture hall falls silent as riders look to one another.

Because of the lack of weaponry we've been supplying.

The answer is clear in your mind, but you keep your mouth shut. Markham had asked that you join today's lecture to assist in the news delivery, and to get you more exposure in speaking to a large crowd such as this. He scans the crowd expectantly, and you let out a small sigh.

He catches the sound, his gaze turning to where you sat beside Professor Duvera.

"Y/N, please -- explain what our fault is in this situation."

You inhale a sharp breath as your eyes meet his. He gives you a reassuring smile, but you can feel nerves tugging at the edges of your mind.

You swallow hard before speaking.

"We're ... um," you cough, clearing your throat. "We're unprepared when it comes to these attacks because... well, we're not supplied with the weaponry required before departing for the outposts," you explain. A few first years raise eyebrows at you, but Markahm nods in agreement.

"Exactly," he assures, holding an open palm to the flow charts and maps hung behind you. "Since we're still not getting it -- please explain your reasoning."

You gulp, rising slowly as your cream robes flow lightly around your legs. Making way toward the depiction of weaponry in the armory, you gesture a slightly trembling hand toward the numbers.

"So, here we have the amount of items in the arsenal on any given day," you explain, sure to glance out at the crowd here and there like your professor taught you. Moving to the next graph, you study it with more confidence.

"This one here shows how much is left now, even with the riders out at the outposts." Markham grins in approval, and Duvera addresses the room.

"Not much of a change there, right?"

She earns a few nods and murmurs in return. Turning back to you, she gives you an encouraging look while still adressing the crowd.

"Why do we think that is?" She says, and a few shy hands raise from the middle of the room. Before the teacher can select someone to answer, a bold voice from the back shouts throughout the room.

"Because riders are self-righteous assholes too prideful to take ALL the equipment they need!"

The class bursts into laughter, and you can't help but flush at the outward foul language used by one of your yearmates. Duvera shakes her head, trying and failing to surpress her own grin.

"Precisely."

✧･ﾟ: *

You were one of the last ones in the lecture hall gathering your things as the remainder of the students cleared out. Markham and Duvera had both already left for their next commitment, giving you the remainder of the day off.

Ascending the steps, you gasped in embarassment as your slipper caught on the edge of your robe, failing to find footing on the uneven staircase and sending you sprawling across a few. Your hand scraped agross the gravelly stone, and your cheek hit the hard material as books, papers, and pencils scattered around you.

A soft groan escaped your throat as you lifted yourself off the ground, pain blooming in both your open palm and cheek. You blinked twice, trying to regain some composure when a large, tanned hand appeared before you.

"I saw what happened -- a-are you alright?"

Your eyes looked up slowly, absentmindedly tracing over every harsh line and toned leg muscle before meeting the warmest, most beautiful brown eyes you'd ever seen. The curly brunette wore exclusively black (of course), though his tight-fitting shirt only seemed to accentuate the ridges of his lean arms, all the way down to where his outstretched hand cleared the fabric.

You swallowed hard, taking his hand and wincing as he pulled you back onto your feet with ease. When you were at full height, his other hand grasped your waist, helping you regain your balance.

"Please say something -- you're worrying me," he continued speaking, but you were so wrapped up in how his touch felt against you that you had to shake your head to clear your thoughts again before speaking.

"I - oh gosh, yeah, um, thank you," you fumbled, glancing down at where your abandoned tomes lay scattered across the lower stairs. When you looked back to him, his eyes met yours with a stare so intense, you immediately blushed.

His lips titled into a small grin before his brows narrowed once more, his gaze faltering at the sight of your scraped cheek. Your breathing halted when he raised a hand, his fingers lightly brushing over the pink skin.

"Oh my Gods; your cheek," he said softly, and you pulled back an inch. He didn't think twice before taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up toward him as he inspected you further.

"That's so embarassing -- I'm so sorry, I-"

"You should never feel embarassed," he said, his tone low. "You tripped; everyone trips," he continued, as his eyes met yours once again. "I'm just sorry I wasn't there in time to catch you."

Now, you really blushed.

"I should get going," you said with a breathless laugh, catching the small hint of defeat in his stare. You turn to gather your things when his arm wraps completely around your bicep in protest.

"Please, allow me."

He ascends the stairs with such practiced grace that you can't help but watch. The muscles in his back flex as he stoops to gather your things, and you feel your mouth run dry.

What the Hell was wrong with you?

He begins climbing the stairs once more as a bright light appears behind you, and voices from the exit at the top of the stairs make themselves heard.

"Bodhi! We're supposed to be on the flight field!"

The same voice from earlier sounds from behind you, and you turn only for a moment to catch a glimpse of the other rider. Turning back to Bodhi, he doesn't rush his pace in the slightest -- he only continues organizing and stacking your things neatly in his arms.

"One sec," he says, though the other male may not have been able to hear with the roar of students in the hallway behind him.

He hands your things to you with a smile, his eyes roving over your face as you grin in thanks. He sighs, taking one step forward before turning toward you once more.

"Are you free later tonight?"

Your eyes widen, and youopen your mouth to protest.

"Bodhi! Flight field! Now!"

His gaze doesn't falter from yours.

You quickly fumble for a response, some sort of excuse but come up empty.

"Yes, I suppose," you say softly, and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip before responding.

"If you want, a lot of us riders are heading to the square around seven, if you want to meet-"

"BODHI!"

He huffs, turning to look at the other rider angrily.

"ONE SECOND!"

His shout echoes throughout the hall before he turns back to you, steadying his breath before continuing.

"We're meeting near the south entrance of Basgiath -- between our two quadrants," he says quickly. "Seven. I'll see you there?"

He begins walking up the stairs, and before he turns, you respond with the answer that may have just sealed your fate before you knew it.

"I'll see you there."

✧･ﾟ:

You'd spent the entire afternoon battling it out in your head; sure, it took hours to finally decide on an outfit that was apropriate, but that was the least of your concerns.

You just met the man today -- why so giddy?

Groaning in exasperation, you ran a brush through your hair and sat down before your mirror. You hadn't realized your roommate had gotten out of the shower until she appeared behind you in the looking glass, wrapped in a fluffy taupe robe and matching hair towel. You chewed the inside of your cheek, debating on asking her advice.

What's going on? Hot date or something tonight?

She signs to you in the mirror, her gaze fixating on yours as you sigh.

Maybe, you sign back. I'm not really sure what I'm even doing.

She approaches behind you, her hands ruffling through your locks as she peeks around your shoulder.

Who is he? Her grin in infectious as she signs to you, and you sigh before replying.

He's... well, he's a rider.

Her brows raise in surprise as she eyes you, squeezing your shoulders in excitement.

How exciting! How did you meet?

You roll your eyes, walking her through your embarassing encounter earlier today. Jesinia was an accredited scribe as well, joining Markham for lectures every once in a while as well as assisting on many high-profile tasks. Needless to say -- she'd become your best friend, and the two of you shared many of the same assets when it came to your quadrant.

She lets out a soft giggle as she reaches for your brush, running it through your tendrils.

So, you met after falling down a flight of stairs? Her shoulders continued to shake. You pinned her with a humorless look.

Not a whole flight, you signed. Just a few. And besides... he was so kind to help me with my things.

Jesinia recollected herself, setting the brush down beside you.

Trust me, I've had interest in a rider or two before -- they're nothing if not helpful.

She smiles, turning you around in the chair to face her.

I find my situation with a rider myself to be working out quite well -- is he a second year? She asks.

You bite the inside of your cheek. Third.

Her brows raise. Who?

You purse your lips. Bodhi, you spell out slowly. She clasps a hand over her mouth before signing quickly again.

Bodhi Durran?

You nod.

Y/N! You know his cousin is-

Yes, yes, you sign, waving off her concerns. I know who his cousin is.

She sighs, her face falling.

Just be careful how involved you let him get, she signs. It's hard to get attached to someone, only to have them taken from you in an instant.

Your heart cracked. Jesinia didn't handle Liam's death well, though she was in a much happier relationship now with Sawyer. Still, you could tell his loss was something she thought of often.

I'll be careful, I promise. You sign back, and she shakes her head in amusement at you.

Besides, you'll be there to help me out tonight, right?

Her brows knit. I didn't know that was aprt of the plan?

You stand, grinning at her with a feline grace. It is now, Jes.

✧･ﾟ: *

The two of you arrived near the south entrance at approximately seven, just as the sun was dipping below the horizon. You'd wisely chosen a fitted tank top and loose cotton pants -- while Jesinia on the other hand, opted for a sweater and skirt. The two of you only looked mildly out of place as you approached the group, who of course, only ever wore black.

"Hey! How's it going guys?"

Saywer adressed the two of you before wrapping your best friend in a bone-crushing hug. Her breathless giggle was impossible not to envy, especially as Sawyer looked down at her like the was the most precious thing in the world.

"Hi."

The soft sound of that familiar voice from this morning had your gaze tearing from the reunion before you, refocusing on the tall, tanned male stalking toward you. He grinned sheepishly, not at all trying to hide the way his eyes drank you in. You blushed yet again beneath his gaze.

"Hi."

He grinned at your shy tone as his eyes finally met yours.

"You look beautiful," he said, a small blush fanning across the tops of his cheekbones. Despite what Duvera had confirmed earlier about riders being self-righteous, prideful assholes and what not -- you found the reaction quite cute.

"Thank you," you chuckled. "You look nice yourself."

He gestured to his basic tee and black jeans.

"Pshhh, this?" He beamed. "It was nothin'."

You chuckled, and another black-clad male cupped his hands around his mouth from the front of the group.

"EVERYONE! LISTEN UP!" You attention snapped to where the brunette stood before the crowd. "WE'RE HEADED TOWARD LINDELL'S -- YOU GO ANYWHERE ELSE, DON'T GO ALONE. BUDDY UP, AIGHT?"

Many of the riders nodded, some pairing up in preparation while a few others acknowledged the speaker with a "Yes Aetos". Your eyes searched for Jesinia, but your gaze halted when a stong arm linked through yours.

"Be my buddy tonight?" His warm chocolate eyes found yours. You couldn't help the wild grin from taking over your whole face. Truthfully, you may have wanted to be more than his "buddy".

You slapped yourself mentally. It was the first "date", if that. Get ahold of yourself.

"Of course," you replied, a light laugh escaping as he smiled at you. "Although, if you get into any trouble, I'm not sure how much I'll be able to protect you."

He scoffed. "Are you kidding me? That's precisely why I chose you," his opposite hand lifted, clasping around your small bicep. "If I get into any trouble, I want these guns on my side of the fight."

You laughed, whole heartedly this time. The group had begun the trek to the square, and Jesinia glanced back from her position ahead of you. A small smile spread across her face at the sight.

✧･ﾟ: *✧

"So, how is it working with Markham!"

You strain to hear the silver-haired girl over the thump of the bass. You raise your brows at her, and take another long drink from your cup, which only makes her laugh.

"That bad?"

You shake your head. "No, no, I'm only kidding -- he's really not too hard on us over in the scribe quadrant," you half-shout. "He's harder on Jes and I because he pushes us to be the best."

She gives you a sympathetic look, nodding in understanding.

"I've known Jesinia for a long time -- almost joined the scribes with you guys last year," she explains. You nod as you listen to her story, that is until the opening notes of the latest most-popular song begin to play.

She looks to you wide-eyed, and you match her stare.

"I LOVE THIS SONG!"

The two of you erupt into half-drunken laughter after saying the same thing at the same time -- that is, until a tall, tanned male with sandy blonde hair approaches and throws an arm around Violet's shoulders.

"Aaric! Hey!" Violet exclaims. You do a quick sweep of the bar, finding Jesinia lingering next to Sawyer by the barstools. Your attention is turned back to Violet when she clasps a hand on your forearm.

"Y/N, this is Aaric -- he's a first year this year, and a fantastic rider," she explains. The cute guy tosses you a wink, and you feel something wild happening in your stomach. Butterflies.

"Aaric, this is Y/N -- she's a second year scribe, and apparently my new best friend!" You beam when Violet throws her arms around you, and you meet Aaric's green-eyed gaze as the two of you share a small laugh.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Y/N," he says. "Can I get you anything to drink?" He nods toward your empty cup, and you open your mouth to respond but Violet beats you to it.

"Noooo, we're going to dance!" She exclaims, tugging you toward the small dance floor. "You can finish flirting with her later."

Heat rises until its covering your cheekbones, the incinuation that he was hitting on you causing not only butterflies in your stomach, but an entire landslide.

Aaric only chuckles, his gaze lingering on you as you sway to the beat of the song. However, you weren't as tapped in to the other gaze focused on you from the other end of the bar.

✧･ﾟ: *✧

"What a great night!"

Jesinia nodded to Violet, who was near tapping out as the clock inched nearer toward 1 AM. The exhaustion of the day had begun to wear on you as well, and after one two many drinks and hours of endless dancing -- you were ready to call it a night too.

Are you about ready?

Jesinia's eyes dropped before she signed back to you timidly.

Well... Sawyer asked me to stay over, and it is a Friday...

You beamed at her, plastering a look of encouragement on before answering.

OH, yes! Absolutely stay with him! I'm just heading to the dorm to hit the hay anyways.

She smiled apologetically, giving you a small hug before the DJ's voice boomed over the speakers.

"Last song of the night! Everybody out on the floor!"

Many of the patrons left in the bar were riders from the college, and a couple made their way onto the dance floor for the last dance. Violet laughed at a few of her other friends who were dancing in a humorous manner, and with Jesinia swaying against Sawyer, you suddenly felt... alone.

"Can I get a last dance before the night's over?"

You turned, meeting the intense green of Aaric's gaze before smiling up at him.

"You absolutely can, Aaric."

His grin was cute as he took one of your hands in his, raising it above your head to twirl you around. You laughed, stumbling over your own two feet with the effects of the alcohol taking control of your mind. The air ceased from your lungs when your toe caught on the heel of your shoe, sending you careening toward the ground.

Bracing for impact, you squinted your eyes open when it never came. Instead, Aaric had both arms wrapped tightly around you, his face mere inches from yours.

"Woah! Ha ha," he chuckled, stepping back in an attempt to stand you upright once more. Your face flushed in embarassment, and your gaze fell.

"Sorry," you mumbled, only before his fingers traced the curve of your jaw. Your gaze fixated on his face, examining him. For a first year, he was quite handsome. Strong jaw, slim nose, and my Gods those eyes...

A sound from the other end of the bar caught your attention, and your heart lept at the sight of Bodhi tossing his beer glass into the metal wastecan. His hard gaze found yours, a hidden flame burning hot behind those eyes. Your skin practically crawled with the flames as he strode over, his steps quick as his stare did not falter.

The song ended, and you turned back to Aaric, who had focused on your mouth. You resisted the urge to let him kiss you; you hated to disappoint people. Instead, you pried yourself from his arms.

"Will I see you around?" His hopeful tone sent a pang of guilt through your chest, but what hit harder was Bodhi's approaching presence behind you.

"I'm sure you will." You flashed him a promising smile, and he couldn't help but smile back at you.

"Bar's closing."

You turned at the sound of Bodhi's voice, and the moment you faced him in full; his features softened.

"Oh... okay."

You made to follow him out of the bar, turning and sending a small wave to Aaric before clearing the front entrance. His steps were fast, and his long legs made it hard to keep up with him.

"B-Bodhi... slow down-"

You smacked straight into his chest when he halted, turning back to face you at once. Before you could stumble, both of his hands clasped around your arms, holding you still before him. Your mind swam as your vision refocused, and met the gaze of those warm chocolatey eyes.

"I'm sorry." He said shortly, his intense stare causing your brow to furrow.

"What's wrong?" You asked, and he took a deep breath. "Bad beer?"

A hint of a smile touched his lips before he pulled you into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you and cradling the back of your head. You inhaled deep, basking in the suddenness of the moment and wishing you could stay like this all night. This time, there was no avalanche or butterflies in your stomach -- your entire body vibrated with his touch.

You hoped to blame the alcohol for that.

"I'm so glad I met you." He whispered into your hair, and you grinned. His chest muscles were tight beneath the thin cotton of his shirt, but you snuggled against him nonetheless. His hands gently stroked over your back, smoothing down your hair and running along your spine. When he did finally pull you away, it was to take one of your hands in his.

"C'mon -- let me walk you home."

✧･ﾟ: *✧

[1whore1gang]

it’s the little things 🤍

Hi guys!! This is considered part 10B!

I’m hoping to get some questions answered within this chapter and the next and throw in a couple surprises hehe

Thank you all very dearly for your continued support after my hiatus. Love you all so so so much! :)

this is so short and i’m so sorry

Without further ado:

Warnings: Cussing, Mentions of violence, some sexual mentions but no smut

Taglist: @gaymistakeboi @batw3nch @thedevillovesflowers @almightywdm @ghostslittlegf @sketchyfandomgirl @under-the-dirt @clear-your-mind-and-dream @darkangel4121 @vreselia @llemessii @stargaliz @rockcollector3000 @nottrosaxx @azu21 @kaoyamamegami @vicktorfan @ghost-is-my-bbg @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @salsasvault @itr-00

“Sure, why not?” You lazily wave your hand as you move aside to let her in. There’s nothing she can say to make your situation any worse anyways. You don’t sleep, you don’t eat and you’re in a constant state of disrepair. Anything that comes out of her mouth couldn’t possibly hurt you when you’re so numb.

She stands awkwardly fiddling with her fingers, nervous. “I just wanted to talk to you, but first, are you okay?”

“I’m here.” You shrug. “What did you wanna talk about?” You slink onto your bed, putting your elbows on your knees.

Tia takes in a big breath before letting it out all in one gust. “I know what you saw, and I know what you must be thinking. If I was in your shoes, I’d probably so furious I’d cut the man’s balls off.” She chuckles softly, “But making you wait this long for an explanation, let alone leaving you without one in the first place is simply cruel on my part and I cannot apologize enough.”

You don’t say anything, whatever explanation she’s trying to offer you, you don’t want it. Nothing can let what happened between her and Price be a write off.

“When I was hired, I kept in contact with John most of the time, and so when a problem arose, I had kind of a lapse of judgement. He was the only person I could think of that would help me.” You raise an eyebrow at this.

“Are you really trying to justify your affair with Price just because of a momentary lapse of judgement?” Your voice, albeit it quiet was cold with venom. “You’re kidding me right? If this is all you’re here for then you’re more than welcome to leave.” You go to stand but her hands shoot out in front of her.”

“Affair?! No! Wait! Just- please let me finish.” When you don’t respond, she takes it as permission. “Did John ever tell you how he found me?”

“No. I guess he never did.” The realization hits you like a brick. “Why?”

“He got me as a recommendation from Commander Frederick in Infantry. I’m his full time nanny in the summers. Therefore, I knew the 141 and who John and you were.” Your eyes widened as you sat up a bit straighter. “So when the job came up, I figured it was a good chance to ask John for some help. Boy, help.” She separated the last two words, as if she was almost ashamed.

“Boy help?” You quizzed her.

“Yeah, there’s a guy on this squad that I’ve always admired and I thought John would be able to help me with figuring out how to talk to him. I just never actually told him who the guy was. I figured he’d never let one of his men be distracted by a relationship.” She smiled a bit.

“So I saw you two almost kiss because he was ‘helping’ you learn how to talk to a guy?” You sounded almost sarcastic when you said it.

“It sounds stupid but you were 19 once, so maybe you’ll understand. I’ve never been in a relationship, never kissed anyone, let alone slept with anyone. The most I’ve got is holding hands with a boy on the playground in grade school. I needed all the advice I could get. I didn’t wanna look like a novice if I ever got a chance with this guy.”

“Who is this guy?” Forget everything else she said, you needed to know if the name she’d say was really someone on this team.

“I don’t know him really, I’ve just seen him about. I hear people call him Johnny?” You can’t help but let out a snort as she says his name.

“Mohawk? Staulky and tall? Scottish accent?” You giggled through the words, which was also the brightest you’ve felt in weeks.

“Yes!! You know him?!” Hope lights in her eyes.

“I do, but I’m sorry to say he’s not open to relationships anytime soon. He got burned by someone a while back and he’s still dealing with it.” Leaving out the part where he’s currently a baby, everything else you said was entirely true. You also left out the part where you were that someone.

“Oh, well that’s okay. At least I have an answer. Can you ever forgive me? I know I kinda blew up your entire thing with John.” She fiddles with her fingers again.

“I can forgive but I don’t know if I can forget. I’ve been to hell and back in the matter of 2 months and the one person I had left walked away from me.” You sigh and that crushing weight comes back again.

“Hey, don’t do that.” She squats down in front of you. “If there’s anything I know about John, it’s that you were the only thing he ever talked about. I know more about you than you would think. He loved you with his entire being. He didn’t walk away because he wanted to, it was because he thought he had to.” She smiles and grabs your hands. “I know my opinion means nothing, but I would talk to him. Just let him explain it to you.” You nod as she stands up.

“I’m really glad I got to talk this out though, it’s a weight lifted from my shoulders. I have to go catch a bus back home though, I hope things get better for you.” She smiles softly before heading out the door to your room.

What just happened? Price wasn’t having an affair? Tia wasn’t trying to seduce him?

You picked up your bag and didn’t even care about how you were dressed. Laswell had the boys, and you had a mission.

You were gonna get John back.

The car ride to his base was quiet, the first time in months your head has truly been calm. The radio was off and the sounds of the traffic around you was the only sound that reached your ears.

Your senses only came back to you when you pulled up to the gate and flashed your ID. You remembered the building Laswell told you John was staying in.

Pulling up, you froze. Both hands were still on the steering wheel, the AC still blowing cold air as it hit you. You’d been on auto pilot for so long, it was almost as if your body brought you here without your consent or control.

Reorientating yourself, you took in your surroundings and filled your lungs with air, taking the moment to regain your control. Then, you shut the car door, walked into the building and found John’s room.

You said a silent prayer that Laswell told you the right one as you knocked. Footsteps sounded on the other side after a minute, and when the door finally opened, there he was.

“Y/N?” You felt tears building behind your eyes, but you pushed them back as you stared at the man you loved. The man that you had so little trust in, that you’d assumed he had an affair with a 19 year old. John, the man who had shown you so much undying love in recent months, was right within your reach. “Are you okay?”

“We need to talk.”

“Come on in.”

————

After hours spent explaining what happened to you after he left the mission site, your talk with Tia and where you’ve been mentally, tears were streaming down your face. It felt good to finally let it all out to John, to clear the air after so much miscommunication.

“Why didn’t you talk to me sooner?” He reached over to grab your hand, giving it a squeeze. “I would’ve explained everything. I’m so sorry you’ve been going through this alone. I should’ve come to you instead of running away from the problem.”

You took a deep breath, steadying your voice. “I didn’t know at the time. My brain never let me think of that as a solution. I was grappling from Snyder did, what I saw with you and Tia, Soap being in the hospital-“ A shuddering breath left you as you continued. “I was so in over my head that my judgement was fogged. I felt so alone. Simon was the only one who halfway understood what I was going through.” You laughed softly, “If you count grunting and sleeping on my chest as understanding.” You shook your head as tears fell harder.

John closed his eyes as he sighed. “I’m stuck here for a few more months until I can request a transfer back. How about you let me take one of them. I can take Gaz, split the load? I talked to Laswell about it, it was her idea.”

Your eyes shot up to him. “Really? You’d do that?”

“Are you serious? We’ve been in this together from the start. I’ve left you drowning for months, it’s about time I start helping again. With limited room here, I can only help so much though.” Looking around, you cringed at how truly small the room was. It made you thankful for your suite back at the compound.

“I can have Laswell bring Gaz tomorrow morning. I have some paperwork that needs to be filed. Laswell wants me to sign a few things and give a full written report on the deployment start to finish.” John nodded.

“That’s fine, I’ll call her later this afternoon. Are you going to be okay driving back? I can follow you there?”

“It’s okay. I could use the alone time actually.” You smiled to reassure him.

He squeezed your hand again to return the sentiment. “Don’t ever be afraid to call. I know it’ll take some time for us to return to what we had, but I’m hoping we can start with baby steps.” You tried to hide your smile at that.

“No pun intended?” You laughed as he shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m happy to see you smile.” John brought you in for a hug. “I’m serious though Y/N. I want you to ask for my help if you need it.”

“I will John. Thank you.” You backed up a little, looking at him. “I’m willing to take small steps towards healing us.”

“We’ll do it together. I’ve got to go do firewatch. I wish you could stay longer.” John ran his hand down your arm. “Please get back safely.”

“I will. I’ll let Laswell know you’ll be calling her about Gaz.” With that, you both bid your goodbyes.

Driving back to the compound was quieter than the drive to John. Something in you felt off, like something was wrong.

Your internal instincts were churning in your gut, but you couldn’t put your finger on it, so you brushed it off as left over adrenaline from working up the nerve to talk to John.

Arriving back at the compound, Laswell was nowhere to be found. All that was left of her was a note taped to your door saying ‘Left to run Gaz to Price early. The other two are down for a nap. They’ve only been alone 10 minutes by the time you arrive back.’

You go to open the door, but hear a crash like someone knocked over furniture. You reach for your concealed weapon in your boot, ready to kill whoever is in there with Soap and Simon. Quietly and slowly, you opened the door, getting into the mindset that you need to clear this room.

Looking around, you see Simon asleep in the playpen, which meant whoever this asshole was had Soap. “Whoever you are, you better come out and surrender that baby back or you’ll be dead on sight.” You called out into the room with authority.

“Y/N? Is that you?” You almost dropped your gun at the sound.

“Come out with your hands up!” Your voice was shaky as it came out. You kept telling yourself your mind was playing tricks on you.

“Please tell me what’s happening?” Your gun fell out of your hands and onto your mattress, luckily somehow not going off.

“You’re not real.” You shook your head, running to grab Simon and get the hell out of there.

“Out of everything going on, I’m- Y/N…what happened to you?” You felt like you were gonna be sick. “You look like you’ve been through hell.” The figure stepped closer, and as a hand came to rest on your face, you finally let their name slip out of your mouth.

“Johnny?”

[asvidema]

finally got to sit down and draw my interpretation of Penelope, queen of Ithaca, from epic: the musical

also as a bonus, her namesake duck

[ghstzzn]

helping hand

pairing: bsf!lee heeseung x fem!reader

synopsis: heeseung had an unusual ritual before every competition as a professional league of legends player. one that his ex-girlfriend could no longer fulfill for him, leaving him desperate enough to ask for your help as his best friend.

tags/warnings: SMUT! MDNI! barely proofread lol, heeseungs a professional gamer… idk shit about that tho, you’re his best friend, league of legend mention, oral (m. rec), face fucking, deepthroating obv, praise? heeseung whimpers and whines here and there, name calling bc he calls her a perv hehe, reader touches herself and orgasms bc of his whimpering, cum swallowing, first time writing JUST a blowjob & ball fondling hehe and more probably! [3.3k words]

🖤: im so scared this was only supposed to be like 1k words but i cant shut the fuck up ever.

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!

it’s been awhile since you’ve had heeseung linger around your apartment for hours or even days like this. between his time spent with his now ex girlfriend and his professional gaming career, you had rarely seen him. only relying on occasional short lunch meetings or quick coffee runs.

it’s not that his ex disliked you, but more so disliked that you and heeseung happened to be an extremely attractive pair of friends and hated that people would confuse you both as a couple rather than heeseung and her.

you missed your best friend, and it comforted you that he returned those feelings. 

before heeseung had stepped foot into a relationship with his ex, he would spend half of his time at your apartment. especially when he had a competition that was near. 

“are you nervous?” you ask him, watching as he packs little things he left at your apartment into a small suitcase for the gaming league. it was only one city away but these sorts of things take an entire weekend. 

heeseung hums, “i’m confident.” you know he’s not lying either. there’s not much you know about gaming, or specifically, league of legends—but according to your mutual friends, heeseung seems to be a god at the game. yet, he seemed so antsy about something.

“so what are you gonna do about your little pre-competition ritual,” you hope to lighten his mood, easing him of whatever that was on his mind.

“what ritual?”

you clear your throat, “oh, um. your blowjob ritual..?”

the question was asked in a light hearted way, but heeseung didn’t react in such a way at all. the ritual, as you called it, was something heeseung accidentally created a few years ago when he had first gone pro. his situationship at the time gave him head right before he left as a sexy goodluck and a reminder of what he had waiting for him when he got back, but that day he had carried and won the competition for his entire team. 

the next year after that he had gotten with his girlfriend and had shyly asked her to suck him off, to which she agreed and it had officially become a routine for every competition, including smaller, less meaningful ones.

“you okay, hee?” 

“can i ask you something?” he suddenly speaks up, voice way louder than he intended, causing the both of you to cringe at the volume. “s-sorry.. i just need to ask you something.”

you nod slowly, “yeah, anything. is everything okay?”

heeseung thinks for a few moments before speaking again, “it’s a little personal and it’s okay if you are uncomfortable with this and you absolutely do not have to say yes but i need to at least ask you.”

“heeseung just say it.”

“can you give me a blowjob before my competition this weekend?”

your reaction comes in three stages. the both of you stare at each other in silence for about three minutes before you burst out in laughter, which also lasts about three more minutes. but when you see heeseungs panicked expression, you go silent again.

“wait… seriously?” 

heeseung swallows before shaking his head timidly. he debated laughing along with you and passing it off as a complete joke but he felt the need to follow through. the room is silent again. your fingers subconsciously play with the zipper on his suitcase as you think about the question he just proposed to you. 

your best friend, whom you’ve experienced half your life with, just asked you if you could give him head before one of his league of legends competitions.

what was the right answer here?

“you.. you don't have to,” heeseungs heart feels like it’s about to fall out of his chest. why on earth would he ask such a thing to his only female friend? no less, his best friend.

it was a joke. yeah, a joke! oh my god, why would i ask that, you pervert! you should’ve seen your face! you guys joke like this all the time, this is no different. he could totally play this off coolly. 

“it’s fucking stupid, i know. but it seriously helps me and you know she would do it for me everytime.” he begins rambling without even realizing it. the air is so thick you would have to take a chainsaw to it. “y-you aren’t her, yeah, but i don’t know—it genuinely gets me through the competitions.”

heeseung lets out a shaky breath, “just forget it. ignore what i said.”

“well, no heeseung,” you cut him off, “i can’t just forget that you seriously asked me something like that.”

“please don’t make this awkward. you can say no and we can forget this happened.”

you could tell heeseung wanted to rip his tongue out, and to see your best friend this distressed over something so silly made you want to drop everything and get rid of those feelings for him. 

“i mean, i never said no, did i..?” 

heeseung looks up, meeting your gaze with a shocked expression, “what?”

“yeah,” you nod, “it doesn’t hurt to think about it, right? it’s not like you’re asking me to completely fuck you—a blowjob wouldn’t hurt us right? especially if it’s going to help you.”

he blinks. heeseung might think you’re going insane, and he’s the one that asked you for the blowjob. no way you were actually considering this for him.

what did he do in his past life to gain such a supportive, pretty best friend.

“so… you’ll think about it?” your best friend's voice is quiet when he asks, like he’s scared to speak up any louder. “like, seriously?”

“yeah,” nodding your head, you flash him a reassuring smile. agreeing to suck off your friend before his professional video game competition, a totally normal request.

when heeseung leaves your apartment, you immediately cuss yourself out. why the fuck would you practically agree to that? 

but when you think about telling the boy no, your heart cracks. why? you don’t know. but what you do know is that you would rather die than look at his big sad brown eyes when you tell him you can't give him a special blowjob for his special day.

you were no pro at sucking dick, but you were dedicated to this friendship.

heeseung bounced his leg with nervousness and anticipation. you texted him that you were on the way to his hotel, which would’ve been normal and completely fine considering you attend all of his comps, but today was different.

you never answered his question.

he wonders if maybe you forgot about it. he also hopes you didn’t forget. ever since he asked you the big question, heeseung couldn’t get you out of his mind.

every night leading up to today, he’d lie awake staring at his ceiling trying to push every image of you sitting pretty between his legs out of his mind. the feeling of his cock hardening to the thought of you made him want to dive out of the nearest window.

it’s not like he didn’t think you were hot or that the idea of being intimate with you disgusted him, but it’s the fact that he promised to never be like every other guy.

the two of you were very close. from cuddling while watching movies to holding hands in a crowded area to heeseung beating up creepy men at dive bars for you—you both had a tight knit friendship. and he always promised that he would never cross that line. he might be a total loser but he liked to consider himself a gentleman at the same time.

that day, he did. yet you were still attending something that meant the world to him when you could’ve told him to fuck off and die.

four knocks at the door rips heeseung away from his thoughts.

with sweaty hands and knees that felt like jelly, heeseung grips the door knob and opens it, plastering the fakest smile he could muster up. “hey.” did his voice crack? fuck my life. 

“hi!” you hold up two bags filled with a variety of snacks with a large smile on your face, “i brought some stuff for this weekend.”

he clears his throat and steps to the side, letting you enter his hotel room. heeseung averts his gaze to the ceiling as you walk by him, afraid of letting his eyes stay on you–what if he accidentally looks at your ass?

“what time does it start today?” you ask, completely unaware of the emotional distress your male best friend was going through. so nonchalant and unmoving. maybe you did forget afterall. 

heeseung takes a seat at the desk in his hotel room, where he had a temporary p.c. set up in case he needed a practice game. “uhh, it’s at six this time.”

“jeez… you guys won't be leaving until late then.” you glance at the clock and back to him. he has to leave very soon. how do you casually start giving your best friend a blowjob within the next fifteen minutes.

“yeah, you know of all people that these things can go for hours. you’re gonna be there for the last few rounds right?”

you nod, wondering if heeseung could notice the way you’re practically gawking at him. was he always this hot? it’s stupid question when you’re fully aware of how attractive heeseung was and currently is. maybe it was the way he was dressed up for his competition tonight, or the way he leaned back on his hands and spread his legs comfortably. 

the baggy black hoodie that you knew he was wearing by itself with nothing underneath paired with his baggy jeans that sat so perfectly on his hips. you were fully aware that you were checking out your best friend. he’s fucking hot, why else would you agree to do any of this?

you wonder if he’s thought about this as much as you have. is he nervous? is he vocal? how long does it take for him to get hard and how big is he?

“hey,” you don’t know where the confidence is coming from, but you find yourself kneeling in front of him with your hands on his knees, “you’re gonna do great and win this. like you always do. i’ll make sure of it.”

heeseung almost chokes on his own spit when you suddenly slip between his legs, “wha- what are you doing..?”

“did you not want my help? or did you forget?” you ask him, genuine confusion. “i-if you already-”

“no!” heeseung cuts you off, grabbing your hand with his. “i mean, i still do. i just didn’t think you were down.”

you rub your other hand up his thigh, fingers mere centimeters away from his crotch area. so close to where he needs you, yet so far. “of course i am. what good are best friends if they can’t help each other out?”

heeseungs breath hitches when your hand grazes the zipper of his jeans. he lets go of your other hand and you take it as a cue to keep going.

“just let me take care of you, hee.”

and for the first time ever, that nickname made his cock twitch.

just the view he had of you sitting pretty between his thighs, hesitant but still full of confidence as you softly palmed him through his jeans was enough for him to be leaking.

“can i…” you ask quietly, fingers on the button of his jeans. he nods once and gulps as you immediately pop the button open and move to the zipper. it feels like hours before you’re finally pulling his jeans down below his hips. 

you can’t lie and say the bulge of his hardening cock, covered by his calvin kleins, wasn’t making your mouth water. you push his hoodie up slightly, the way your cold fingertips hit his lower stomach as you grab the waistband of his boxers has his stomach tensing under your touch. you let out a small gasp when his cock almost springs out of his boxers.

your best friend is packing. 

heeseung almost chuckles when he catches your reaction. 

“don’t laugh.”

“i’m not.”

“i can see it!” you argue back.

heeseung rolls his eyes, “please just continue.” 

“i won't if you keep up that attitude. you know we have less than fifteen minutes.” you retort after hearing him scoff. 

“i can miss rehearsals.”

“heeseu-”

“god, please let me just fuck your mouth.”

oh my god? were you supposed to be turned on? you bite your lip and look down in his lap, taking his cock in your hand with a soft but firm grip. you lean forward and let spit slowly drip from your mouth as you start pumping him. 

heeseung lets out a quiet groan and you look up at him—wide eyes that are practically asking, is this good? you continue to gently fist his cock, getting him nice and hard before you start using your mouth on his. 

“i hope you win.” is all you say before you kiss his tip and sink your mouth onto him.

the boy is practically seeing stars. you just started and he’s already moaning like a bitch. it felt so good, he can’t rip his gaze from you, watching the way your lips wrap around him tightly and your cheeks hollow out as you literally suck him in. 

“fuck, like that…” his hand finds sanctuary wrapped around your hair, not yet pushing you down on his cock completely, but more so as guidance. 

you let go out his cock with a pop and continue pumping him with your fist, licking the underside of his base as you make direct eye contact. he lets out a groan and lets his head fall back.

“you don’t have to hold back heeseung,” you mumble, but the lust was evident in your tone. “don’t be gentle, this is for you.”

“holy fuck, don’t say that.” you giggle at his response and smile against his tip before taking him back into your mouth. heeseung grips your hair tighter and pushes you further down his cock per your request. he can hear you inhale deeply through your nose as you attempt to take all of him. but of course you can’t. 

you stroke what you can’t fit and let heeseungs hand guide you up and down his cock. he uses all self control to not thrust into your mouth. heeseung hisses through his teeth every time your lips tighten around the tip of his dick, feeling somewhat more sensitive than he usually is. 

a guttural moan rips from his throat when your hand comes up to squeeze his balls, offering a helping hand in making him cum soon. time was ticking. but heeseung did not care whatsoever, especially after that move.

he almost wishes he knew how fucking good you were at giving head before all of this. your mouth was so warm, wet and tight around his cock–he was in heaven. heeseung genuinely thinks this is one of the best blowjobs he’s ever gotten. his hips buck, suddenly pushing his cock deep inside of your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. you cough around his cock in surprise but it only spurs your best friend on.

maybe it was the fact that you’re his best friend. sure, it’s not taboo by any means, but there are lines that are never to be crossed in these sorts of relationships–holy shit, heeseung was on cloud 9. 

“oh my god,” he whines, “you’re so good at this. fuck–god, don’t stop.”

his words, his moans, his whines–they all send tingles down your spine and straight to your core. you can’t deny the throb in your cunt though. 

you continue to squeeze and fondle his balls as you let heeseung completely guide your head deeper onto his cock, thrusting his hips upwards and meeting your mouth halfway. your other hand grips his thigh, keeping you stable and relaxed as he abuses your throat with the head of his cock. 

the groan that leaves your mouth when he tugs your hair tighter is accidental, you look up at heeseung. he looks beautiful like this. a pink blush across his cheeks, damp forehead, and hazy eyes. you were surely dripping through your panties now. 

“yeah? you like t-this too, huh?” heeseung spits out. now you’re almost jealous of every woman he’s managed to pull, because fuck did that just turn you on even more. “want me to use your mouth however i want?”

you moan in response, nodding your head. heeseung lets out a long exhale as he shoves your head down his cock again. tears line your eyes and threaten to spill over, trying to relax your throat to take him completely. 

“y-you’re taking me so good, y’know that? so good, baby.”

immediately, your hand that was once on heeseungs thigh is making its way down and into your shorts. you were soaked. 

heeseung lets out another choked moan when he notices your hand in your shorts, circling your clit as you let him fuck your throat. how badly he also wishes you would just take those stupid shorts off and let him see exactly what you’re doing, he yearns to see you play with yourself one day. 

“playing with yourself while you let me use this pretty mouth…” heeseung groans, lifting your head for a mere second before pushing you down his cock again. your hand tightens around his balls and he almost whimpers at the sensation. “you like this just as much, fucking pervert.”

you let out a whine, tears falling down your cheeks, you were already so close.

heeseung gets rougher, guiding your head much faster than before. your lips were burning and there was spit completely covering your other hand. but still, you continue to suck and lick at his cock as if it were your last meal, letting him force his way down your throat. 

“‘m so close. so fucking close.” now you're both whimpering. “fuckfuckfuck, gonna cum soon, baby. keep going, please, hah–you feel so fucking good.”

his words were enough for you to hit your peak, an orgasm washing through your body immediately. you’re squirming and whining, sending vibrations down heeseungs cock. 

“ah, fuck,” he continues to let words fall out of his mouth in the form of broken moans, “y-yeah, ‘ts so good. feels so good.” heeseung suddenly pushes your head all the way down, your nose making contact with the soft hair as the base of his cock, and he cums. 

thick, hot ropes of cum covering the back of your throat. you’re gagging and choking at the full feeling, wanting to pull back so badly, but he doesn’t stop–not until he’s milked dry. 

after what feels like an eternity, he lets go and you pull back, gasping and coughing but swallowing most of his cum in the process. your hands fly to your neck as you massage it and catch your breath.

heeseung on the other hand was breathing heavily. that was the best orgasm he’s ever had.

“holy fuck.”

you look up at the male, who seemed like he was about to pass out, “hee, you have to go.” your voice is raspy and weak. 

“i can’t.” he responds, out of breath. “that was amazing. i can’t move.”

you stand up and pull him up with you, balancing him when he stumbles forward. “seriously, you have to go now.” now you’re putting his cock away for him, he hisses loudly at the feeling but you ignore it and zip up his jeans. “now.”

heeseung sighs and looks down at you, “did you.. get off like that?”

you tighten your lips and nod hesitantly.

“god. god, you’re amazing.” he breathes out, wanting nothing more than to throw you down on the bed and fuck you until he physically cannot. “please, please be here when i get back, i’m literally begging you.”

you nod at him, reassuring him that you’ll be here when he’s done as you usher him out of the hotel room. “i will, hee. just go.” you suppose this is what best friends are for after all.

“and do not show up to the comp tonight or i will be hard the entire fucking time.”

[fluoneia]

sypnosis. continuation of pitfighter!vi. vi’s drink at the rink is spiked with something she’d never experienced before. she goes back to the brothel in the hopes of finding you. part 3

warnings. smut (17+), aphrodisiacs, switch (mostly sub)!vi, kind of period sex? idk. no major part of it, lowkey angsty at the end

a/n. oh my gahhh guys u don’t understand how happy i am to get requests you guys r so sweet please leave more !! and GUYSSS i LIVE for sub!vi i’m so happy for this request

arcane masterlist ✯

vi never thought she’d get herself so deep into this. into you. she went to babette’s in the first place for a quick release, yet, she found herself enveloped in you. obsessed with you. every thought was about you, about how you made her feel.

but tonight, she had the overwhelming urge to see you. to devour you..

or maybe, for you to devour her?

vi didn’t care. so long as she could return to the feeling you gave her a week ago.

“babette.” vi would husk as she falls into the brothel, catching herself on the desk. “where is she?”

“who, darling?” babette’s eyebrows furrow.

“her. dammit.” vi pushed off the desk, stalking down the hallway. she ripped each and every curtain open, looking for your face, for you. she didn’t care seeing the other girls breasts, she didn’t care seeing the cocks and the horrified faces as she glanced in every room looking for you.

she didn’t understand why. she’d never felt this much desire for a person, but yet, here she was. she wanted you, wanted that feeling she had.

her mind fogs as it fills with images from the week before. she remembered your sweet whispers, the feeling of your hands on her body, violating her, pleasuring her in a way she had never been pleasured before.

vi would never consider herself a bottom. but right now, she didn’t care for titles. she just wanted you.

but, when she doesn’t find you in any of the rooms, her heart yearns. she storms back to the front-desk.

“where the fuck is she?!” vi nearly damn whines. she didn’t understand why she was so desperate.

“violet. who are you talking about?”

“the girl! last week, i was here, and there was a new girl here. where is she?”

“oh, you mean.. y/n?” babette chuckles. “oh, you’re not the first one back for seconds, honey. it seems she made an impression on you.”

vi feels a rush of anger. she knew this is what you did for work, yet, she couldn’t help the raw anger in her heart as she thought of someone else with you, taking those sweet gasps, your moans and words that haunted her thoughts.

vi wanted to be the only one doing that to you. making you writhe, cry. she wanted you to be the only one that did that to her.

“she went home. you can always come back next week.”

“next week?” vi’s breath hitches in her throat.

“she took the week off. you know how this job is, it can be draining.”

and it feels like vi’s breath can’t keep up with herself. she glanced back down the hallway, before snapping her head back to babette.

“where does she live?”

“i’m afraid i can’t give you that information.”

“dammit, babette!” vi slams her fist against the desk. why was she trying so hard? why was she so desperate?

she stills as she hears footsteps behind her. delicate, soft.

“it’s you.” you whisper behind her, and oh, your sweet, sweet voice nearly makes her legs give out.

it’s like everything clicks back together in her head. every nerve comes alive, sending cold shivers down her body, when she hears your voice.

“y/n, honey, what are you doing back?” babette asks you.

“oh, i just came to drop a few things off.” you shrug. your heart beats faster as you feel vi’s eyes on you. you were used to clients coming back, but she was different. she wasn’t like the other clients, vi was.. something else.

you spare a glance at her, and you gasp at her dishevelled state. vi suddenly remembered she never even asked for your name. now, she knew it.

“so, i’d.. id better get going.” you clear your throat, turning on your heel.

“wait—“ vi grabs your wrist, but you pull away. she walked behind you. “wait, wait, just—“

“i’m afraid i can’t be of service to you.” you shake your head, finally stopping. “one of the other girls can take you.”

“i don’t want the other girls.” vi exasperates, “shit— i want you.”

you feel your breath hitch in your throat.

truth is, you couldn’t be of service to her. you were on your period, which is why you were given the week off.

you turn to look at her. she’s heaving, moving closer to you. you see her lips are chapped from the air, and this time her face was clean from the face paint she had on last time.

“violet, i..”

as soon as you said her name, it’s like anything vi had left of any sort of will is gone. she grabs onto you, pressing you back, your back hitting the wall with a thud.

she’s panting. her hot breath hits your lips.

“you need to help me.” vi whispers as she cranes her neck, pressing her face against your neck, breathing in your scent like it was all the oxygen she needed.

“what’s up with you?” your brows furrowed, hands releasing to grab her face and pull her back. now closer, you can see her pupils are blown out.

and suddenly, you remembered rumours of a new drug going out, mostly for couples. because it was an aphrodisiac, and a strong one at that.

“you.. you take drugs?” you narrow your eyes, avoiding her gaze. you never pegged her as the type, but remembering she was a pitfighter, it wasn’t exactly frowned upon in that business.

“what?” vi’s eyes flicker. “no, fuck no, i don’t. i just drink.”

then, you think for a second. you gasp when you realize.

“you got laced.” you peer back up at her. “there’s a new drug— blossom. it’s an aphrodisiac, vi. but.. it’s not specific to make you want certain people, just.. sex. you didn’t have to come all the way here.”

“i don’t care for other people.” she huffs. “fuck, i— i just want you.”

you frown. “that’s just the drugs talking.”

“it’s not the drug.” you feel her nose press again your neck, her breath, her scent. and your mind is brought back to one week ago, when you had the night of your fucking life. you’ve never had better sex.

you suddenly remember her pretty little moans, her body, rough and scarred, but still so beautiful. you never expected for her to be submissive, but that night proved everything you thought to be wrong.

and it turned you on even more that you could have the best of both worlds with vi.

you could have a dominant, rough, teasing girl to give you pleasure. but, she could also submit to you on the snap of your finger, especially now.

all your needs are met with vi. so, why do you want to push her away so badly? fear? fear that this could just as easily turn into something more, and jeopardize your job?

fuck it. what’s one night?

“wha— what is that?” vi says so sweetly, so innocently. you brought her back to your house, and now, she was under your will just as easily as you could get a glass of water.

you eyes scan over her body. bloody, bruised, scarred. her budding breasts, the trail of hair just above where you’ve been purposefully avoiding.

you hum as you run your fingers over the marks on her neck, her breasts. her hands have been glued to you all night, trying to pry every last bit of clothing on your body, to consume you whole, to have nothing but your skin against hers, like how it should be. how it should always be.

“what, you’ve never seen one before?” you glance toward her as you raise the silicone cock toward her.

“i— i’ve.. heard of them.” vi swallows as her eyes follow it.

“think you can handle it?” you jest, leaning back so you could loom over her. you hold the straps over you torso, tightening it around your hips.

her eyes are trained on the harness. it stirs a weird feeling inside of her— she’d never been attracted to men, nor wanted anything to do with their dumb cocks. yet, when she sees you, with that pink dildo that reminds her of her old hair, she wants nothing but for it to be inside of her, deflowering her, taking every last bit of dignity she thought she had.

with you, it all goes away. she didn’t care anymore. she just wanted you.

vi’s hands find your bare back, pulling you against her, lips only inches away from yours. her hands roam your soft skin, clutching onto your stomach, wanting to fuse her body with yours.

“i don’t care if i can handle it.” she muttered, pupils nearly taking over her whole eyes. “give it to me. give it all to me.”

you hum as you press your lips against the corner of her mouth. she gasps, before letting a loud whine from her throat.

“kiss me.” she grasps your face, “dammit, kiss me.”

“isn’t that too.. intimate?”

vi groans in annoyance as she tightens her grip on your face, lips crashing against yours in a fiery, passionate movement.

and you realize, vi didn’t want just regular old sex. she didn’t want to be treated like a whore, like a client. she wanted passion; she wanted you to make love to her.

and you shake the thoughts way with the thought— it’s just the aphrodisiac.

slowly, you let yourself melt against her, melt against her lips. her tongue grazes your lip, just barely, and you take that as permission to let your tongue slip against hers, dancing in a passionate movement for dominance. vi’s hands tighten on your body, grasp at the plush of your thighs, so soft, so delicate.

and she thinks, just maybe, she’s slowly starting to get a grasp on herself again. she remembered— she should be the one in control.

but, then.. the thoughts fade away as soon as they come.

she gasped as you take hold of the silicone dildo, moving to press it against her slick, coating the tip of it in the warmth.

you hum as her will instantly diminishes, vi’s chest heaving at the reminder that right now, she was under your will. under your control.

you pull away from her lips to mutter, “sure you can handle this?”

“i’m fucking sure.” vi grunts, hands gripping your cheeks harder, pulling your lips against hers again. and she thinks, your lips were so soft. scarily soft. dangerously soft in a way that she was scared she’d never be able to leave you— the feeling of your lips, your hands, ever again.

and when your hands press against her stomach, softly grazing against the bruise beneath her rib, she grimaces in pain. but.. she found it even more dangerous that she didn’t want to shy away from the pain, from your hands. instead, she relished in it, and it only aroused her more.

vi’s mind goes into an instant fog as you slowly press the silicone inside her, entering her with a soft pop!

and she cries out in both pain and immeasurable pleasure. her hands roam into your hair, tightening against it as she tries to alleviate the raw pain of the stretch.

you frown as you realize you probably should have chosen a smaller one, considering it was her first time.

but, you grin again as you see vi’s spine arching up, toward you, pushing the dildo in more.

and vi swore she saw white.

“shh, shh..” you whisper, breath trickling down her neck. “you can take it.”

“oh, fuck!” vi’s eyes close as her face tightens fully.

“relax.” you hum against the shell of her ear, hand grazing over her stomach, up, and up and up, rubbing against her breasts. “can’t do anything when you’re so damn tight, vi.” you giggle into her ear. “eyes on me. come on.”

you tap just underneath her eye, against the tattoo on her cheek you could now see without the face paint. it was of her name. a little egotistical, much?

she opens her eyes with a damn whimper, and you swore it was the most sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“that’s it.” you glance at her. the way you were looking at her, so primal, so full of lust, vi swore she could melt into a puddle in her spot. she was so far gone now, she knew that there was no going back.

her eyes train on you, not daring to look away. she finds herself lost in your eyes, and you in hers, so blue, so soft. she was submitting to you with her very own eyes, and you knew that, even without looking at her body yearning for you.

you take the chance at her body relaxing to push your hips forward, relaxing yourself into her until your hips touched hers, your bodies fusing together.

her mouth gapes, her eyes rolling back. oh, she was so far into this hole now.

your hands grab her calves, pressing her back, nearly pushing her down so far her knees could touch her ears with one movement.

and oh, the stretch, so painful, filling her, pressing so deep inside of her unlike anything she’s ever felt.

vi’s hands race to cover her face, a whine escaping her throat as she panted, feeling so, so full.

“what’s wrong, hm? feel too good?” you jest as you lean closer.

vi says nothing. you test the waters by using the new position to press deeper, angling your hips to hit the spot you knew always worked.

in both men and women, there’s always a soft spot that will make them bleed in submission, that will let you fully take control of their head. that’s what you did best.

vi cried out. she knew that damn spot, of course she did, but she never imagined it would be used against her, that someone would hit that spot, and hit it so fucking good.

“thi—! this position..” she mewled, “ts’ too embarrassing.”

and you fucking laugh. “you’ll learn soon that nothing is embarrassing when you’re with me.

“you’ll learn to forget yourself in these moments.” you tease your tongue against her jaw, hands moving to her thighs, pushing her down deeper. “embarrassment doesn’t exist with me. you’ll see.”

as if to solidify your words, you gently pull your hips back, till the dildo was about halfway out, then you slam your hips back against hers. vi cried out, voice cracking at the sudden movement.

“this okay?” you’d whisper against her skin.

vi’s heart nearly melts. even in this moment, so crude to put her in such a lude position, you’re still so damn sweet to her, just like last week.

but, vi can’t respond. she can’t form words. she didn’t remember how, or when she forgot how to speak until the words catch into her throat.

slowly, her eyes open and she nods her head. it was more then okay, it was the best damn thing she’d felt in her entire life.

“i need words, vi.”

“y.. ye—s! it’s okay.” vi sputters, face rushing full of blood, blushing so cutely. you chuckle.

“good.” you smile against her pulse, pressing a soft kiss there. then, you rock your hips back, just barely, before thrusting your hips back in.

you continue at the slow, teasing, torturing and mean pace. you feel vi’s legs shiver against you, her head pushing back into the pillow.

you feel a sound in her throat, against your lips, and she pushes her body closer to yours.

her entire body shakes with each thrust, each push back inside of her, so deep, pressing just barely over that spot each time.

and she realized, she wanted you to be rougher. she wanted you to act like how she treats other girls she sleeps with, how she treated you that one night. maybe that was all she wanted all along— projecting the way she treated the girls because she wanted someone to do that to her.

she didn’t know that until you, you, you, came into her life.

every thought was you. every, single, thought. mind a total haze, she forgets herself. she doesn’t care to be quiet anymore, she doesn’t care to try and stay reserved. she wanted you to do whatever you wanted to her.

and she’d probably let you.. if you weren’t treating her like a damned delicate doll.

“g..” she starts, a wonton moan escaping her lips. “faster.”

“oh?” you grin. “you ready now, huh? all stretched out?”

“ye— ugh! yes, i’m—‘i’m ready.” she grasps onto the sheet beneath her.

“hm, you sure?”

“yes, i’m fucking sure!”

“you’d better watch your mouth, vi. or this is just gonna go slower.” you move to meet her gaze, nose pressing against hers. “got that?”

vi looks like a puppy who’s being teased a treat, being made to do tricks. soft little gasps, soft sounds leave her as she clutched the sheet harder. she swallows, before slowly nodding.

“good.” you say as you nip at her nose, before adjusting your hold on her thighs, propping yourself up.

you tilt back to spit on her already sopping folds, and she bites her lip at the lude gesture.

you slowly, oh so slowly, pull your hips back till just the tip is left inside of her.

then, you ram your hips back against her, so roughly it makes the bed shake.

a loud noise leaves vi. she grips so hard on the sheets she pulled the fitted sheet off the bed, but not paying it no mind. all she cared about right now was getting more of this feeling, more of you.

“fuck!” vi cried out.

you chuckle. then, you begin at a steady, harder, faster pace. your hand lets go of her thigh, letting it drop down on the side of the bed, hand moving to graze over her face.

your hands push her hair back out of her face, clutching it so tightly. vi heaved at the feeling, mouth agape as you press your hips faster, harder, so harsh against that spot she felt like she was going insane.

then, you let go of her hair. and you brush your fingers over her lips, prying them open, pressing your fingers against her tongue.

“wouldn’t want the neighbours to hear, would you?” you had no neighbours. but, vi didn’t know that. “wouldn’t want them to know i’m fucking you so good like this, hm?”

vi doesn’t respond. her eyes are fully gone, concentrated on you, and you feel a soft gag against your finger.

she doesn’t think as she lets her teeth clamp against your fingers, biting so hard because she can’t handle the pleasure, so hard it drew blood.

and the taste of your blood enough was to send her over the edge.

you feel the vibration of her voice against your fingers, her entire body erupting into a shaking mess.

“oh!” your eyes gleam as you glance down, slowing your thrusts, relishing in the glance of the pink dildo slowly staining white.

and your heart leaps as you see her hips pulling away. oh, how hilarious.

“you had me in the same position before.” you husk, “and you didn’t give me mercy. so greedy, aren’t you, vi?”

you let your fingers slip out of her mouth so she can speak.

“god, oh my god!” she gasped, entire body collapsing against your bed. “i-i fuck, god..” her hips drag away from you, stomach jolting from your touch against her stomach.

“so.. wouldn’t it only be fair to give you the same treatment? punish you?”

vi shakes her head violently.

“no, no!”

you still as you see the tear on her cheek.

“no more. no more.” she pants, eyes slowly opening to glance up to you.

you let your eyes close with a sigh.

“oh well. another night.” you snort as you slowly pull the dildo out of her, letting it hang, and resting it on her thigh. “let me clean you up. that sound good, hm?”

vi stares at the ceiling with no response. you snort, before pulling yourself away, hucking the strap off to some random place. vi suddenly looks to you, before roughly grabbing your wrist.

“don’t go. please.” she whispers.

you stiffen at her words. slowly, you relax. and you obey her wishes.

“alright. i won’t.”

vi’s hands travel down your body, hooking around your waist and pulling you against her chest.

even after what you thought was probably the orgasm of vi’s life, she was still a fighter after all, and she was strong.

you let yourself melt against her. her hands graze over your back, body still shaking as she reminisced in the feeling of her high.

“that.. that was a one time thing.” vi suddenly says. she swallowed. “it was just an aphrodisiac. i am not a bottom.”

you pick your head up off her chest, narrowing your eyes at her. she quickly adverts her gaze, biting her tongue, a harsh blushing finding her cheeks. you snort.

“keep telling yourself that, vi. that’s what every stubborn top says after they’ve seen me.”

she makes a tch sound. “whatever. bunch of wimps.”

you giggle.

it was probably around two hours later, and you hadn’t moved from where you two both were. your hands played with her hair.

and you realize, this was the first time you ever stayed with a client after their appointment. and it continued to dawn on you that this probably wasn’t what a client and a businesswoman’s relationship should be like.

“hey, y/n?” vi rasps, her voice laced with tiredness and sleep. “i.. i have to talk to you about something.”

you still. was she.. going to say something bad? good? proclaim love? you’d been in that rodeo before— let’s say, it was the main reason you had left your old brothel in piltover.

you glance toward her.

“yeah?”

“i won’t be coming back.” she stares at the wall as she says this.

you snort. “that’s what they all say—“

“no, i mean.. i mean, there’s someone.” she sighs. you still your hands.

she props herself up. you pull away from her chest to sit up straight.

“someone as in.. someone you love?”

vi glances toward you.

“no. i.. i don’t know.” she shakes her head, avoiding her gaze. “not exactly.”

you say nothing.

“do you want to know the reason i got into pit fighting?” vi stares down at her hands, “well.. a lot of shit has happened in my life. it feels like.. like i’ve never got a chance to take a breath of air before another thing was thrown at me.”

she inhaled. “i.. i was in stillwater prison for four years. got thrown in when i was probably.. sixteen?” she shakes her head.

“so.. you escaped? or something?”

“no. no, uh..” she grimaces, like it pains her to talk about it. “the girl. the.. someone, i guess. she got me released to help her with this stupid investigation. an enforcer.” she chuckled. “stupid girl.”

“we.. she was my first kiss. my first, i guess.. crush, if that isn’t too kiddish. i thought everything would go great after that. then.. shit happened. and, she left.”

your brows furrow. she left? just like that, and she deserves to hold vi’s heart?

“but.. i guess i came to the realization that i couldn’t stay away from her.”

vi’s face tightened as she thought. caitlyn should have been the one she was thinking of while under the effects of that blossom drug. but, she wasn’t. it was you. and that weirded her out. confused her.

“can’t just let all that go to waste, you know?” vi ignored her thoughts. “so, i’m gonna find her. even if.. even if she’s gotten over me. there’s always friends, right?”

you purse your lips. then, you stand. you grab a robe from a hanger and tie it around your body.

“you shouldn’t let your first love plague yourself forever, vi.” you say tightly. “you may never be able to let it go. trying to fix something that’s already broken won’t go as you expect.”

vi says nothing.

“take it from me. i thought i’d loved someone before. but.. it was bad for me. it tried to salvage any relationship i got into because i didn’t want to accept change, that people i thought i’d loved wouldn’t change, would remain in the same spot forever. but, that’s life. people change, for the worst, for the better.. it’s human nature.”

then, i chuckle. “i’m not about to give you a lecture. i’m not your mother. but, just.. think about that before you drop everything for a girl who may have already moved on from you.”

“don’t revolve your life depending on other people’s love. especially if they abandoned you after taking your first kiss.”

“no, caitlyn, she’s.. she’s different. she was grieving. it was my fault—“

“no need to start placing blame on yourself. you can’t control a feeling like love.”

you step toward her.

“cherish that. cherish the way you love. i may not know you, but.. i can tell you have a good heart. if this caitlyn girl is truly who you love, then let it happen.”

“your mind is still young. emotions is all you have.”

you tap her forehead.

“so go.”

vi’s forehead creases as she thinks.

“but.. vi?” you slant your head. you lean back toward her, pressing yourself closer so your noses touched. you brush a hand over her face.

“i know you won’t be able to resist me for long. you’ll be back.”

vi’s eyes are trained on you. her breath picks up, before she suddenly stands, scrambling away from you.

“uh! i, um, i have to go now.” vi swallows, rapidly picking up her clothes and putting them on.

you giggle as you let yourself fall into your pillows.

“see you, then, violet. i hope our time was good for you.”

she spares you one last look, and you swore you’d never forget the gleam in her eyes, the red on her neck and on her cheeks. so adorable.

she stalks toward the door, moving for the handle. then, she stills. she takes a deep breath.

“y/n?” she says softly. “if i.. if i ever do come back. just know, it’s my turn to use that thing on you.”

you feel your breath catch in your throat at that damn smirk.

without another word, she opens the door and slams it closed behind her.

you blink.

“damn, that girl gives me whiplash.”

a/n. said i wasn’t going to continue it, but here we are. um, expect a part three. probably. maybe. 🤗 idk still deciding

for @nobodyknowsimalesbian777 , hope my sub version of vi was to ur liking 😭 sorry it went a little off track of the request i got lost in it

find more about my taglist here.

[primofate]

"Where'd you get that bruise--Oh," in which your Genshin lover gets a good look at the first hickey he left

Warnings: please excuse mistakes as I'm on a time crunch and also sleep deprived, suggestive but still safe for work, humorous in some parts

Other works in this series: (You say I love you for the first time)

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Tighnari, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader  

Aether

gets flustered

"Uh-Umm... Maybe, you should..."

he wants to say cover it up but who is he to tell you what to do?

Starts to second guess if he really gave you that

Will start to think about the events of last night and deflates with embarrassment

Finally points it out, feels kind of bad that he left a mark

"It's just...distracting...I'm sorry if it hurt,"

Albedo

stares at it for the longest time.

There's a half smile, half amused look on his face, like he wants to be happy about it but doesn't want to be too obvious.

Just chuckles and points it out without any shyness whatsoever

"It's rather obvious, but do with it what you will,"

Comes up with some sort of concealing potion to help you hide it

Brews about a 100 of 'em

Alhaitham

Sort of does a double take, looks at it for a few seconds then looks you in the eye

"I'd advise you to hide it,"

he really only says that to keep things professional when the two of you go out

but in the next second he snakes a hand up your arm with a small secret smirk between the two of you

"However, I can't say that it won't happen again...Specially when..."

He recalls the events of last night at this moment, and it seems as if he's staring into your soul. He breaks away from you with a slight hum.

"...I best be going now."

He leaves you confused, but he only hurried off because he felt an urge to give you another one then and there.

Ayato

chuckles to himself

"Well, there's no hiding that I enjoyed myself,"

but gives you helpful suggestions on how to conceal it or at least make the colour less obvious, like putting ice against it, or something.

Speaking of ice, you can simply get it from the kitchen but Ayato is a tease... "I suppose my dear sister can adequately help you with that...Though what, pray tell, would you tell her?"

You kind of shrug and say that you'll tell her an animal bit you.

Ayato is amused "An animal," but there's a twinkle and hint of lust in his eyes. "Yes, perhaps that's what I become when it involves you. The statement isn't exactly a lie,"

Cyno

is silent. Not sure if he's happy about it or horrified.

Feels like a crime cause it looks like a bruise.

Does not say anything for a good minute because he simply doesn't know what to say and is talking to himself in his mind

Like Was I really the one who did that? Last night must've been...

Snaps out of his stupor when he's reminded of the events and clears his throat to catch your attention.

"Y/N...You...I...I've managed to leave a mark...on your neck..."

You absentmindedly touch it and let out a small ohhhhhhh in understanding

Clears his throat again and looks away, pretending to be busy with something. Flustered and doesn't know what else to say.

Dainsleif

Eyebrows involuntarily raise up at the marks.

Points it out immediately

"My dear, it seems that I had a favourite spot last night," and taps on your neck to let you know what exactly he means.

"I can conceal it with a little trick of mine, if you don't mind," he says he can make it invisible to the ordinary eye but some "special" people can see it, so...

"I suppose if you run into the traveller that you'd have to be honest about it. Hm? No, I don't quite mind if they know of our relationship,"

Diluc

is surprised, then apologetic

He didn't know is fully aware how rough he had been last night

Apologizes with a slight tint of red on his cheeks and can't seem to pry his eyes away from it.

"My apologies, Y/N. It looks like I was rather...careless...last night. You should wear something with a collar today...or perhaps, my coat?"

Is seriously considering repenting about it

Itto

"Whoa--"

Is legit about to throw hands but then remembers

"Oh yeah. I did that." while scratching his head bashfully

No shame about it afterwards, even has the gall to say

"I'm surprised it doesn't look worse! It was pretty wild last nig--"

You have to cover his mouth to save yourself from embarrassment

Kaeya

smirks and leans in close to brush his fingers against the hickey.

"It isn't the most flattering of marks but... it gives me quite the sense of accomplishment,"

winks, deadass tries to give you another one right away.

"How about we try that again? Just to even it out on both sides of your neck,"

is only half joking

Lyney

mischievous laugh

is more happy about it than shy, embarrassed or apologetic

"That wasn't very nice of me wasn't it?" but is still smiling

"Unfortunately I don't think I have any magic tricks up my sleeve to fix this one,"

Grabs and hugs you by the waist "I guess we'll just have to stay in, the two of us, until it's unnoticeable"

always looking for an excuse to spend alone time with you.

Neuvillette

clears his throat almost immediately when he sees it, like he choked on water

"Y/N," he starts rather sternly but falters and takes a few seconds to think.

"May I suggest wearing a scarf today?" is awkward about pointing it out so goes the roundabout way. You're so confused because it's the middle of summer.

"Well," he coughs once to try an explain to you. "I didn't have all manners of restraint last night...You were simply...irresistible,"

points it out by gently thumbing at it

Scaramouche

shit-eating grin at the sight of it

Doesn't tell you to cover it up, most likely wants you to go parading around with it.

"Tsk. What's the harm if people ask? Just be honest and tell them," he's just fucking around with your head now

but snatches your wrist and looks you straight in the eye with a confident smirk "And be sure to tell them who gave it to you. That'll teach them to back off,"

Tartaglia

laughs but is slightly apologetic

"Couldn't hold myself back, I'm sorry. How can I make it up to you?"

You tell him that the next time he leaves a hickey, he should leave it somewhere where it's more concealed.

"Oh?" sudden glint in his eyes. You might have said the wrong thing. "No take backs, Y/N,"

I think you know what or where he's thinking about

Tighnari

Doesn't say anything at first but immediately whips up a remedy for it. Some sort of green paste that helps with inflammation.

"Here," and hands you the bowl of herbs. "For that,"

He doesn't point at it but instead eyes it rather obviously

He also watches you put the paste on "Alright, just leave it for a few minutes and it should heal wonderfully,"

He doesn't exactly feel guilty but he's more worried that people will look at you weirdly.

"I suppose I'll have to be careful next time," with a sigh.

Wriothesley

laughs but bashfully face palms and tilts his head backwards

Recovers quickly and smiles apologetically

"Sorry love, couldn't hold myself back it looks like," lovingly takes your face in his palms

Can't hold his smile back "But can you blame me? I'm not gunna hide that I was way too excited,"

Suggests you to put a bandage of some sort over it.

"I'll try to be careful next time, but no promises,"

Xiao

Freezes while looking at it

For a split second is confused where you got such a mark but then flusters himself when he remembers it was from him.

"...Y/N..."

seriously does not know what to say

stands there staring at it that you finally just check in the mirror yourself. He hears you gasp and he kind of winces to himself and now feels a little guilty.

"I...didn't mean to hurt you,"

You quickly tell him it doesn't hurt, but you were just surprised.

Thinks for a moment, then mumbles, you can barely hear him "...So it's alright to do it again?"

Zhongli

chuckles, not shy about it. just amused.

"It's no one's fault except my own. I merely wasn't paying heed to how...carnal...my desires were,"

he again chuckles as he explains.

"Not to worry darling, I'm sure Bubu Pharmacy has something to remedy it. I'll be back with it in tow,"

brushes his fingers against the hickey as some sort of apology and promise that he'll fix it

End

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[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

You met your incubus!husband late one night during a thunderstorm. Usually he wouldn't be out feeding in a time like this, but he was hungry... and once he caught a whiff of your scent, it was all over for him.

He entered through your window, ready to go into your dreams...

That's when he spotted you curled up on your bed, hands over your ears as you tried to stifle your terrified sobs.

His first reaction was... intrigue. Why was this human crying in the middle of the night? Why was she curled up with a stuffed animal, wasn't that a thing only children did when they were afraid?

The incubus felt something strange while observing your trembling form... but he pushed those feelings away. You were too panicked and scared to feed from, so he'd have to find a meal somewhere else...

But he paused when you looked up at him. Not because he was afraid he had been caught, no, he froze because of the look you gave him.

Your lip was trembling, hair messy and cheeks covered in tears. When you looked at him, he almost felt compelled to rush forward and pull you into his arms, to comfort you with soft kisses and gently rocking.

But why did he feel this way? Why was he beginning to walk towards your bed and reach out to place a hand on your hair to soothe your fear?

The way you instantly began to relax, leaning into his touch made him... feel something. Something other than lust.

"Thank you.."

His eyes lit up at the soft gratitude you showed him.

Had anyone ever thanked him before?

Before he could even think, his arms were wrapped around your body, pulling you in closer so he could shield you from the thunder and lightening. The loud sounds and bright flashes of light became blurry and muffled... and you finally found yourself able to sleep peacefully.

His visits became nightly after that. There was something about you that drew him in. He couldn't feed on anyone anymore, his heart wouldn't allow him.

You became friends quickly, though it was obvious to most that he was pining after you terribly. Every waking moment was spent thinking of you and the next night he'd be able to visit...

You noticed he was getting pale one late evening, his eyes a bit dull.

“Are you feeling okay, Lulu?”

His name was Lucian, something you learned after his second visit.

“Ahh… I’m alright. I just… haven’t fed in a while.”

Lucian settled down next to you, his tail gently caressing your thigh. It wasn’t on purpose, his tail was moving on its own due to how hungry he was. To anyone other demon it would be clear how much Lucian wanted to mate with you…

“Fed? You haven’t… um…”

Your cheeks felt warm against his shoulder. He sighed softly, nuzzling against your hair. No other person he had bedded with had a scent like yours. It was intoxicating…

“I haven’t had sex since we met.”

This made you feel kind of… flattered. The way he gently reached for your hand and held it, the soft smile he had when looking at you…

Oh.

“Is it… because of me?”

His cheeks flushed a light pink, and she looked away. “… perhaps.”

His tail swayed before beginning to move up the skirt of your nightgown. He immediately looked embarrassed, trying to pull it away.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… it moves on its own when I’m…”

You shook your head, opening your legs a little to give his tail access.

“Don’t be sorry. You’re hungry, aren’t you? Well…”

You smiled shyly, squeezing his hand back. “I… wouldn’t mind providing you with a meal.”

He was gentle, his tail slipping under your panty line to play with your clit as the two of you shared your first kiss.

Lucian tasted like strawberries and honey, you couldn’t get enough. When he reached a clawed hand to hold onto your soft cheek, you instantly leaned into his touch.

He had never kissed someone like this before. Usually they were quick, heated with tongue and gnashing teeth…

But you slowly licked his bottom lip, and he felt his cock twitch in his pants as he explored your mouth. It was so sensual and tender that he could almost cry.

‘I… think I love her…’

With that revelation, his slit pupils expanded and he pinned you down, his tail rubbing your own slick against your pretty hole before plunging in.

“L-Lucian!”

You whines out in a mix of pleasure and discomfort, getting used to the feeling of his tail fucking in and it of your as his lips moved to your neck. His tail pumped aphrodisiacs into your body, making your head get fuzzy and your pussy throb with need.

It wasn’t long before he couldn’t take it anymore. Your cum was intoxicating, he was starving!

Lucian sank his cock into your, watching as you writhed and bucked your hips, your pussy gushing and clenching around him.

The two of you were a heated mess of needy kisses and cum, both unable to pull away. He had already had his fill, but continued to fuck into your fat cunt, watching as his cum spurted out of you with each thrust.

By the end of the night the two of you were clinging to each other, exhausted but happy. He had never been so worn out in his life… or as satisfied. As Lucian gazed down at your sleepy face, he knew then that you would be his wife soon enough.

He kissed your head and fell asleep too, leaving his life of being an incubus that slept with whoever he could behind.

Lucian would be your devoted husband now, until you died, and even beyond that. A demon’s love could last lifetimes…

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog

[7s3ven]

FILE LOADING. TF 141 x hacker! Reader, pt 1

( full master list) (intro to this series)

IN WHICH… you needed a way to lessen your prison sentence and TF 141 needed an efficient hacker… as well as someone to spoil.

Notes: hacker! Reader, reader has a criminal background, reader has piercings, tattoos + tooth gems

A/N: first cod series finally lol… please like this post guys, I finished it right after I slipped while practising a taekwondo kick and body slammed into the tiled floor 😭.

—

The air inside your prison cell was muggy and overall unpleasant, causing beads of sweat to form on your forehead as you fanned your face.

The pathetic excuse for a window was not helping, letting only a small amount of oxygen enter the tiny room.

In all honesty, you weren’t treated as badly as other prisoners. A coworker of yours had pulled some strings the moment you were arrested, which meant you got better food and some perks.

But as always, life in jail still sucked.

You were too busy staring at the blank wall in front of you to notice the metal door keeping you locked up was now creaking open.

“Get up.” The warden harshly nudged your shoulder, barely giving you a moment to compose yourself. Your hands were yanked behind your back, the cool metal handcuffs digging painfully into your soft skin.

Your jaw clenched as you were dragged down the dimly lit hallway. You knew better than to ask questions as they would not be answered. All you could do was walk in the direction the warden shoved you in.

The breeze from the well-ventilated interrogation room was the first thing to hit you as you entered. You arched an eyebrow at the woman sitting at the table, her hands gracefully clasped together.

“And you are?” You didn’t recognise her as you slumped into the seat across from her, purposely sending the warden a biting glare.

“I’m Kate Laswell, a CIA operative.” She didn’t waste time before she spoke, leaning forward to catch your attention.

Your lip peeled back into a sneer, “The worst kind of people.”

She ignored your jab. “I’ve come here to give you an offer. You see, SAS is in need of a hacker and I’m told you’re the best fit for the job.” You watch as she opens a slim folder, spreading out the images for your careful gaze to study. They’re printouts of your exploits, files nobody was supposed to obtain. You had deleted your digital footprint after hacking databases, you were sure of it.

“You’re good. Too good to waste in a cell." You hear her softly sigh.

“I did what I did. The justice system isn’t so flattered by my ability to retrieve their sensitive information. Plus, I did murder someone… a few people, actually. So in all honesty, this isn’t an unfair punishment.” You leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, crossing one leg over the other.

“We are well aware of your long record.” Laswell sends you a pointed look. You merely grin, your canine teeth glinting in the light.

“Did you see my arson report?” Your lips spread into a grin, “Because that’s the best one. Set an ex-boyfriend’s car on fire and it just lit up. It was great. You should read it sometime.”

Laswell cleared her throat, reminding you of the situation at hand. “As I was saying, I can lift your jail sentence with a click of my fingers but only if you agree to work for me.”

“Thought I was working for SAS.” You interrupted.

“You’ll work for an elite team called Task Force 141… but you’ll answer to me. I give you the orders.”

“And the catch of this job?”

Laswell’s lips curve into a faint smile. “This is not a job offer, Miss L/N, it is a uniquely presented opportunity. You will get no pay for your services. The reward it reaps, however, is greater.”

You paused for a second. What could possibly be better than money?

“Freedom.” As if reading your mind, Laswell spoke again. “If you do this, you’ll be free before next year. This is possibly your only shot at freedom, do not throw it away. If you stay locked up here, you’ll only rot while the world keeps spinning.”

Now she had your attention. “You must be desperate if you wanna hire me.” A chuckle slipped past your lips but it was mainly to ease the awkward tension that had settled. “What would the job include?” You tilted your head, subtly shifting forward to hint your interest.

“You’ll be working alongside Task Force 141, giving them intel on possible threats and making their jobs easier by gaining access to classified information. I hear you don’t work well with other people but really, what choice do you have?”

Her words prodded at you and the teasing smile on her face aggravated you but she was right. You had no other choice.

The room was silent as you weighed out your choices. The walls seemed to close in on you, a stark difference to the freedom you were promised mere moments ago.

“So I risk my life for this so-called elite team… and in return I get some vague promises of freedom? Smells like bullshit. You lot will probably stab me in the back.” You scoffed.

“You’ve already painted a bright red target on your back. It’s only a matter of time before people realise you’re worth more dead than alive. With us, you’ll have protection. And a purpose.”

Laswell stood up, pushing her chair back with deliberate calmness. The legs scraped against the concrete floor as she did so. “Make no mistake, L/N, people like you don’t simply disappear. Someone will come for you… someone who wants your head on a stick.” Her words hung heavily in the air.

There was a flicker of fear in your eyes and like a feral predator, she ate it up.

“Okay.” You slowly murmured. She had convinced her with her carefully concealed threats. “I’ll do it.”

Laswell smirks. "Good. Pack your things. Your new team will be picking you up in an hour.”

—

The loud roar of the helicopter blades filled the air as you stepped onto the tarmac, shielding your eyes against the bright sun. You rubbed your aching wrists, clicking your tongue at the bruises the tight handcuffs had left.

A few soldiers are waiting for you into the chopper, their silhouettes barely visible through the dark tinted windows.

“Couldn’t just send a car?” You grumbled as you climbed into the helicopter. Laswell followed close behind, unbothered and seemingly used to such a commotion.

“Always for the theatrics, John.” She jokes with the man sitting across from her, eyes crinkling as she grins.

You glance at the man’s name tag, reading Captain John Price. He’s handsome… for a man his age. In a ruggish and rough sort of way. A cloud of smoke slips past his lips as he calmly puffs on a cigar, not at all caring how the chopper unsteadily tilts to the side.

“This the hacker? That pretty ‘lil lass over there?” A voice, thick with a Scottish accent, cuts through the silence. Your eyes dart to stare at the burly man with a Mohawk as he looks you up and down. “Thought the hacker was a bloke. Ain’t complainin’ though.”

You stiffen at the comment, running your tongue over your top row of teeth. It unintentionally gives him a view of your shiny tooth gems. “Thought you lot were an elite crew. Y’all don’t fact check?” You lean back into the cushioned seat. It’s surprisingly comfortable, much better than the stone-hard mattress back in your cell.

The Scot laughs, unbothered. “She’s got bite. I like ‘er. Name’s John McTavish but most call me Jonny. You can call me Soap if ya want.”

You sarcastically laugh. “Soap? What kind of muppet name is that? You had a reputation for eating soap as a kid?”

Soap’s eyes light up, not what you were expecting with your insult. “Ay! The cap’n said the same thing! Called me a muppet too!”

“You still are.” Someone chimes in from the front. You didn’t even realize there were two more people squeezed in to the seats in front of the controls.

The one in the passenger seat turns around, smiling. With his soft brown eyes and gentle features, you can’t help but find him pretty.

“Y/N L/N, right? Nice to meet you. I’m Kyle Garrick.” His voice has a slight British accent to it. “This is Ghost next to me.” He jabs a thumb at the man wearing a skull mask who’s doing a poor job at steering the helicopter.

“Ghost?” You question, “What sort of name is that?”

“Simon Riley.” Ghost grunts out. His British accent is somewhat aggressive, evident in every syllable he barks out.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. For some reason, he annoys you. It’s more like the way he’s looking at you through the eye-level mirror.

The chopper shakes again. You watch as Kyle grasps his seat, his grip so tight it almost cracks the delicate leather. “Sorry.” Simon gruffly replies.

You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward. “What’s up with him?” You nod your head in Kyle’s direction.

“Fell out the bloody helicopter when Ghost was last flying.” Kyle replies. You almost laugh. It’s not something that should be amusing but your lips quirk into a small grin.

“So… does this whole arrangement cover my food and accommodation?” You question, suddenly aware of how hungry you are. Laswell slips out a small folder, handing it to you.

“Your accomodation will be one of our safe houses twenty minutes away from base. We considered having you live on the base itself but socialising isn’t part of your job. You’ll be living with the Task Force to ensure you don’t run. And all your costs will be covered. You will be given an allowance for your own expenses such as impulsive purchases.”

“Thought you said I got no money.”

“Once you have completed what is necessary, you will no longer have access to the allowance.” Laswell clarifies.

“And I walk free.”

Laswell nods, “Then you are free to go. If needed, CIA will pay to transfer you to another country so you can start anew. Most do not get second chances, L/N, so be careful.”

You lick your cracked lips, aimlessly playing with the hem of your oversized shirt. Maybe you could go to Europe; it had been a little dream of yours as a kid.

“Should go to Scotland, lass.” Jonny pipes up above the loud helicopter blades.

“London’s better.” Simon retorts, “Can actually understand what they’re saying.”

“What about Korea?” Kyle butts in.

“You aren’t even Korean.” Jonny argues back, lightly scoffing.

“Yeah, but I wanna go. Is that a crime, Soap?”

Their pointless bickering was comforting in a way. You had spent the last few years of your life locked away, isolated most of the time and alone. It was nice listening to people talk again.

Simon landed the helicopter with surprising grace, being the first to unbuckle his seatbelt and jump out. Kyle was next. Laswell unlocked the sliding door, stepping aside to allow you to slip past first.

You merely stared at her before muttering a tense thanks.

“Watch your step.” Kyle warned you as he held out a hand to steady you.

“It’s literally three feet. I can manage.” You snap back, effortlessly stepping out of the chopper. Jonny lightly chuckled while Kyle slowly withdrew.

“Feisty.” Kyle muttered.

You stared up at the safe house, tilting your head. “It’s… cute.” You hummed. It was a cottage, not the first thing you expected as a safe house.

“Were the pink roses your idea, Riley?” You joked, pointing at the pretty flowers.

He grunts, a sound you’ve suddenly become familiar with. “I prefer Ghost.” He corrects you.

You shrug. “Used to call inmates by their last name. Helped me ignore them when they tried hitting on me in the early years of prison.” You stepped forward onto the stone cobble path, admiring it.

“A small cottage… bet this is a military dream, huh?” You kicked a pebble.

“It is, actually.” Jonny pipes up, “It’s every man’s dream to retire in a cute little house with a pretty lass.”

You lightly scoffed, “I ain’t here to play work wife, McTavish. Can’t even cook.”

“Thank goodness we have Gaz then.” Jonny retorts, “Bloke should be a chef if this career doesn’t work out.”

You take a moment to study the house and its surroundings while the others file through the door. There’s a small white Pickett fence wrapped around the land, bright green blades of grass wrapping around the neatly painted wood.

The cottage is clearly old but well renovated. Rows of vines adorn the side, a surprisingly aesthetic sight. There’s a garden filled with sweetly smelling flowers and the same pink roses sitting at your feet are also perched on top of the porch.

The windows are the favourite aspect of yours. They decorate the stone walls, a sharp gothic detail to them.

It’s almost too pretty for a criminal like you.

“You comin’ in?” It’s Kyle who notices your absence, peeking his head past the doorway. For a moment, he thought you had made a run for it but he was relieved to find you standing among the garden.

You clear your throat, pulling at the bottom of your shirt. “Yeah.” You step onto the rickety porch, the wood creaking under your weight.

The interior of the house is so different from your tiny cell. Walking past the door almost feels like walking into an entirely new life.

Jonny is scavenging through the fridge, pulling out a tall bottle of beer. “Want some?” He offers it to you.

“I can’t drink, warden’s orders.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“It’s just a beer, can’t hurt ya. ‘Sides, you ain’t in jail no more.” Jonny insists, shaking the bottle. It’s tempting but on instinct, you glance at Laswell.

She’s sitting beside Price, talking to him in a hushed tone and going over a file, presumably one containing details about you.

“I ain’t stopping you from drinking, kid.” Laswell says, feeling your stare on her face.

Hesitantly, you snatch the bottle from Jonny, popping the lid open with practised precision. You haven’t tasted beer, or any other alcohol for that matter, in a long time. You’ve never liked beer… but the first burning sip feels heavenly.

“You got any vodka?” You ask, glancing into the top cupboards.

“Do we look Russian? Nah, can barely drink that shit straight.” Jonny’s face scrunches up at the thought.

“Bourbon then.” Your words catch Simon’s attention.

Jonny grins as he reaches up, grasping a fancy-looking bottle. “Only other person here who likes bourbon is the LT. Guess he isn’t alone anymore.” He pours you a glass, handing it to you in exchange for your bottle of beer.

“Don’t understand how you lot can stand beer. Too bitter for my liking.” You mutter, pacing around the room.

You hear Simon quietly hum in agreement. “Finally someone smart.”

COD TAGLIST (comment to be added/removed): @jenepleurepasbaby @rm25711 @talia-the-gemini @margaaaa30 @mixplara @alex—awesome—22

@lunamoonbby @little-b33 @ghostswife-8 @tea-drinking-nerd @certainlygay @lucienofthelakes @supaturtl3 @pr3ttypupp4 @royalz658 @whoreforfictionalmen18 @ashy-akuma @1bucky-barnes-wife1 @chloepluto1306 @voguiing @eyeless-kun @joshwashingtonmybeloved @fuzzyducky3 @childishname @angel-bugz @kee-0-kee @undercover-smutlover @10honeybee01 @kat247 @munson24 @sweetlittleblackrose @babybimbo777 @wfinniegenx @galactict3a @hyperfixatedcatlover @creepumiku @yoontoons @moraxnomora @1ckyfairy @lunerbitch @tizylish

[lokigodofaces]

May I suggest a third potential?

The formally brainwashed party specifically breaks rules/laws. Even things they don't really want to do. Could be wearing atrocious color combinations. Could be being needlessly rude to someone. Could be speeding. Running red lights. Stealing random crap. Breaking random crap. Getting into fights.

From this you get two options for the motive: are they refusing to follow rules again and trying to prove to themselves and others that they're free? Or are they desperate for order and for someone to control them that they start breaking rules and laws to try to get someone to tell them what to do/arrest them?

I think characters who have been brainwashed should have absolutely bat shit insane trauma responses about it. Because you can do so much with it, y'know? It's so versatile.

On one extreme end of the brainwashing trauma response spectrum, you have someone who has the worst impulse control you've ever seen, like this person is prone to spontaneous behavior like no one has ever been before. They would drive into oncoming traffic just to prove that they're in control of themselves.

On the complete opposite extreme end, you have someone who needs to micromanaged, down to the minute details. It doesn't matter that they're in control of themselves again, they need someone telling them what to do, borderline at all times. They can't function without it. You could think the word jump and this person would already be in the air.

Please is anyone picking up what I'm putting down. There's potential here I think. Like. In general.

[rafesangelita]

♡ babydaddy!rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader see their baby via ultrasound for the first time!

warnings: pregnancy, sweet fluff, both reader and rafe crying, medical terminology, brief flashback, small time skip

a/n: pogue!sweetheart!reader is only pregnant in this universe alone! if you want to read more of her and babydaddy!rafe you could click the tag with their pairing down below or you could just go to pogue!sweetheart!reader’s masterlist <3

“alright, mom and dad.. are we ready?” you and rafe shared a look, your eyes fluttering closed as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips. taking hold of rafe’s hand, you hissed softly once you felt the warm clear jelly smear against your tummy. “so this might take a minute because i have to find the perfect spot, but if you feel any kind of discomfort just let me know.” the technician smiled sweetly as both you and rafe zeroed in on the monitor screen. he was so gentle and tender with you, his large build crouched down next to yours as he whispered encouragements in your ear.

“you’ve been doing so good, baby, you’re already the best mommy ever,” he praised you, “i love you so much, there’s no one else i’d want to be doing this with.” you were already so emotional before and during your appointment, you couldn’t help but get teary eyed at his words. “i love you, too.” you sniffled, averting your attention back to the ultrasound machine. “here we are!” you gasped when the technician got the right spot, the image of your baby illuminating the screen. “oh!” you melted at the sight as rafe rubbed your arm, his bottom lip trembling as the tiny little thing stared back at the two of you.

“so what you’re seeing right here is the head,” she paused the image, pointing a finger at the monitor, “and if you look closely you could see the daintiest little button nose i’ve ever seen.” you giggled, tears streaming down your cheeks now as she moved the transducer over your lower abdomen. “so since you’re at ten weeks, that means baby is about as big as a strawberry right now.” rafe stared down at you in awe, his heart feeling so full in this moment. his baby was having his baby, he couldn’t grasp just how beautiful that really was.

“look at the tiny feet!” you squealed. you were smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt. if you were already dying of cuteness overload right now, you couldn’t imagine the pure and utter joy you’d feel once your little one was finally in your arms. “please tell me we could take home copies today..” you cried, sighing in relief once the technician nodded. “of course! i’ll start taking those pictures right now.” rafe wrapped an arm around your chest, leaning down so he could leave a trail of small pecks along the underside of your jaw. “oh, man, can you believe this?” he asked incredulously.

you shook your head, stroking the skin of his arm as you admired the different angles that popped up on the monitor. you’ve been pregnant for well over a month, already going on two and it was barely starting to hit you right now that you were really growing something inside of you. the feeling was surreal almost, like you couldn’t even articulate the words to describe how whole you felt having rafe by your side through absolutely everything. “no, not at all.” you whispered, clinging onto him as if he’d disappear into thin air if you let him go.

thinking back to whenever you first met rafe, you would’ve never thought in your most wildest dreams that you’d be having his baby. you two were so brand new to everything, the excitement never dwindling in your relationship. you were sweet and kind, and just overall good, rafe hoped with every fiber of his being that his baby would inherit every ounce of your heart. your gentle and nurturing nature was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. to feel your love all around him no matter how close or far you were, he had no doubt in his mind that your baby could feel the same love tenfold.

rafe was in pure bliss just thinking about seeing you carry a baby on your hip everywhere, that smile of yours adorning your lips as you gaze up at him through your lashes. the vision was so vivid, he felt his heart squeeze in his chest at finally having everything he ever wanted right in front of him. “are you two going to find out the sex after your first trimester, or will you be waiting until birth?” you pouted once the technician started cleaning you up, her screen going blank as she shut it off. “we’ll be finding out at our appointment.” rafe smiled at your use of ‘our’ before he helped you sit up.

“that won’t be very long then,” she raised her eyebrows excitedly, “you’re not really showing just yet, but this is completely normal, especially since it’s your first pregnancy.. but any day now, and you should start seeing a little bump.” you smiled, lifting your arms up so rafe can adjust your clothes. “aw, i can’t wait.” you were already thinking of the shopping spree you’d have to go on in order to accommodate your new shape. yoga pants and fuzzy slippers here you come. “i’ll be right back with those photos!” she scurried out of the room, leaving you and rafe staring at each other in disbelief.

“i hope she prints enough copies, i want one for everywhere. the house, the truck, my purse—” rafe interjected, “oh! and one for my wallet—”