#take courage from her as your prize

[catdia]

Sevika with a Chubby S/o pt.2

Sevika is a very jealous and prideful individual. she doesn’t take kindly to others that try to take you away from her

when Finn tried to get you close to him, she killed half his goons as a warning

teaches you basic self defense, how to use your body as an advantage in combat

ended with both of you making out on the practice mats

gave you a knife and handgun as a birthday present

all your clothing is automatically hers as well. loves wearing your shirts and hoodies when running errands

Sevika has MASSIVE hips, she doesn’t like them that much because pants never fit her waist right. but you love them!

and you also don’t like when pants highlight your underbelly. if she sees your belly in any capacity she’s grabbing that thing like a vice

uses your stuff before you ever get to. that new Piltovan skin care you got? Sevika gives it 10/10

eats all your snacks, even the healthy ones that taste “like cardboard”

the scar on her temple gets sensitive with the cold, uses your tummy as a heating pad when cuddling

one of Sevika’s love languages is bringing you fresh vegetables and fruit she smuggled from overseas

seeing your eyes sparkle in delight as you eat the sweet fruits makes her love her shitty job a little more

she got your nickname “peach” because of your love of fruit (and your fat ass)

if there is a place on earth that can be considered hell is when your periods sync up. Both in pain and grumpy.

when it’s just you, she gives you princess treatment (more than usual). even going as far as making homemade soup

i believe Sevika doesn’t get her period as frequently as she used to. mainly thanks to the amount of Shimmer she uses

Shimmer is the reason you almost had a terrible fall out. it was doing your woman more harm than good. making her extremely aggressive to the point where she threw and broke the matching clay mugs you gave her as an anniversary present. you spent almost two months making them

all of this because you threw away her last Shimmer supply. you just couldn’t she her like that anymore

you sobbed as you collected the pieces of the floor. so preciously putting them on your lap as she just watched in horror. Sevika had never seen you so broken. What had she done?

Sevika kneeled in front of you trying to make everything right. picking up little colorful shards of the floor. but you pushed her onto her feet. you pointed at the door.

“Get out…”

“Peach, please I—“

“Get the fuck out Sevika!”

she spend the next few weeks crashing in Silco’s office. drinking her sorrows away. while going cold turkey off Shimmer

remembering your soft cheeks stained with tears and trembling shoulders. she never had seen you so angry

once she had the courage (and by that I mean Silco and Jinx kicking her out for beign love sick) to come back home, she didn’t grasp how much she actually needed your love

it was a positive sign that you let her in. like a silent “prove me wrong”

you made her sleep on the couch for weeks. ignoring all Sevika’s attempts of affection. walking away when she got too close, not drinking the coffee she made for you in the mornings, covering your body quickly whenever she walked into the bathroom after your showers

Janna, did she miss having your body on hers. having you cuddle her to sleep. now she is stuck in this ratty couch. she missed how you moaned, what you tasted like. Sevika was unbelievably horny

but she needed to wait for you to make the first move out of respect for the pain she caused

when she was sleeping on the sofa you woke her up by grinding your cunt on her thigh. only wearing your night robe. open in the middle, nipples hard and belly creasing on your pelvis. you placed her mechanical arm on your temple. cradling her metal palm with your lips

“Fuck me like you mean it, ‘vika! Make me your woman again.”

Sevika saw the fire in your eyes, and the burn was a prize she was willing to take

you kissed each other hard, clawing at clothing and skin. teeth clashing. every touch was personal. sensual. like a withered plant in water

even if the sun never warmed the underground it didn’t matter to her. because the sun couldn’t ever bring her life like you did

Sevika had never made love before. only saw sex as carnal lust. but having you vulnerable in front of her and having given her forgiveness was the best gift she could have asked for. the gift of hope and chance. she touched you like a lover, a soulmate.

you laid naked on her chest, blissed out in pleasure. in the afterglow of sex. Sevika groping the flesh of your ass. as she blew cigarette smoke into the air. you were going to complain about the smell in the morning.

“I quit Shimmer.”

you smiled into her exposed skin. Sevika was a blunt woman, and you appreciated that part of her.

“Good.”

“Love you, doll.”

“Mmmm — me too Sevika.”

and you definitely made her go to one of those pottery couples classes to replace the mugs she broke

Sevika wasn’t getting off thaaattt easy

[captainsamuelmorrigan]

It's driving Eddie insane.

There's no fucking way the 2 things can be true. Either Steve stole Eddie's porn, his prized magazines full of hot boys covered in piercings, tattoos, and mouthwatering amounts of leather. Or... OR! Steve happens to own the same magazine. Eddie can't believe either thing is true. Maybe it was a prank? Some sick homo-mag that his basketball buddies slipped him some time... that he kept for over a year at least? Yeah. Sure, Munson.

"Soo... Beefcake?" Eddie leans over the counter at Family Video, making sure his tatted tits are on full view in front of Steve.

Steve lowers the paper he's reading. "Am I supposed to be Beefcake?"

Eddie plasters his world-famous shit-eating grin across his face, scooting slightly left so he chest is firmly in front of Steve's pretty eyes. "Only Beefcake I see regularly without some serious payment on my end."

Steve coughs in surprise. "Not taking the bait, Munson. What brings you in, anyway? Are you trying to get Rocky Horror again? I think someone besides you actually rented it this week."

"Really?" Eddie sighs, then perks up, remembering the real reason he was here. "No, uh, I wanted to ask..." His courage runs out halfway through his sentence.

Steve smiled softly at him, his cow eyes framed by those perfect eyelashes and... FOCUS MUNSON.

"I wanted to ask if you had read anything good recently? Maybe any good magazines?"

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Did Robin put you up to this? She said you freaked out after I left my porn out on my nightstand on accident when you slept over. Are you homophobic or something?"

Eddie practically loses his balance. "Steve- we- you- I'm-" He stumbles through forty different responses. "I'm not homophobic."

Steve shrugs. "Are you mad it had guys and girls in it? It's not the 70s anymore, Munson-"

"We own the same BDSM Leather Daddy magazine."

They stare at each other for a second.

Steve clears his throat. "Well, I was kind of hoping you'd have jock porn or something, but your type is your business."

"Why would you hope I had jock porn?"

There's a loud throat-clearing noise from the break room, Robin peaking her head out. "Can you two take your horrible flirting somewhere else? I'm getting traumatized over here."

"Sorry, Rob." They mumble in unison.

"Thank you." She says, before spinning away in her chair.

Steve leans in and whispers. "I was hoping you had jock porn because then all the times you bent over the counter and shoved your tits in my face would make sense."

[yourstruly-caycay]

A "Loving" Husband

Yan! Poseidon x reader

Woo! My first time writing a yandere version of a character, and for the first time in forever I post something ehe.

Warning: yandere behaviour incoming

Synopsis: Poseidon never have any intention to tell Atlas, his son, about the inside of the golden door under the deep sea within the darkness. But, out of impatient and curiosity, Atlas bound to uncover the secret.

....................

The curious little boy finds himself in front of a huge golden door, a shiny one as it shines by the glimpse of the moon. He checks his surroundings once more to make sure he doesn't hear any doorstep near him as the window shows a scenery of the darkness of the sea. He sighs in relief as he's ready to find the answer that his dad has been avoiding to answer, “If this door is in this deep underground, what could dad possibly hide?” 

He tries to push the door, he keeps pushing to the point his face and hand turns red. “I can open it!” He courage himself  as it finally opened a little bit, small enough to fit his size.  

“Ha! Dad must be proud if he knows that I can open a door this heavy.” He pat his back proudly as he goes through the door. The inside of the room is exactly as he questions it, a room full of old neat treasures and artifacts on the shelves. Out of all the treasure he saw, he spotted something bigger. A beautiful and shiny marble statue of a life-sized woman sitting on a couch with a lot of jewelry on her and white silk dress, but he notices that the clothes at the waist part are ruffled, as if that part has always been touched. 

"Hmm, why does the ring seem familiar?" To get a better sight, he climbed to her thigh and sat on her. Observing the ring closer, he remembered the very same pair of rings in his dad's finger.

“But why is it on the statue? I thought mom was supposed to wear this? Perhaps I should try to give it back to her.” Carefully, his eyes focus on taking off the ring from the finger without realizing that his feets slip from the statue's silk dress as he’s hanging by the ring finger. 

Unfortunately, the ring finger cracks as his head knocks onto the floor. He rubbed on his injured head, displeased seeing the gold blood on his hand from the injured head. However, the feeling of pain is replaced by panic as he closes his mouth when he sees the ring finger shatter from the statue. In a speed, he grabs the statue's ring finger and sprints all the way to his room.

… 

By the next morning-

"WHY DO YOU NEED TO BE ANGRY JUST FOR A MISSING PART OF A STATUE?" 

The boy jolted up from the sudden loud voice outside his room, he immediately opened the door. His heart beats fast and eyes go wide seeing his father and mother arguing in the hallway with Hades and some staff hidden in the corner or running away because they’re too scared at the sight of Poseidon.

"WHY? I'VE WARNED EVERYONE IN THIS CASTLE NOT TO ENTER THAT ROOM EXCEPT FOR ME, BUT A HIDDEN INSECT SEEMS TO HAVE BROKEN INTO THAT ROOM! I’LL FIND THE FOOL AND SHRED THEIR HANDS."

"BUT THAT DOESN'T EXCUSE YOUR SUDDEN OUTRAGE LIKE A MAD MAN." 

“You insolent women-” Before Poseidon’s trident even near Amphitrite, Hades held his wrist and said in a stern voice. “Poseidon, calm down,” His eyes now turn to glare at him, but Hades still has the stoic face and staring back at him, “It’s just a statue, I don't know what's so special about that. But, if you’re still determine to punish the culprit, do it, but don’t throw the blame to the wrong person.”

And so, he put his trident down, his breath steadier and turned back to his usual stoic face, yet eyes still glare at his brother, “Just a statue? That statue is a prize possession of mine, worthy of my time to care for it.”

Hades can only sigh and shake his head in disappointment, meanwhile Amphitrite opens her mouth to say something while holding in the trembling voice with knees getting weak pressing down her fear as she stares back at him. The trident might not pierce her at all, but the sharp wind from the trident is enough to cause a scratch of gold blood to flow from her face.  

"You've got to be kidding me, Poseidon, everyone already fucking know that you're protective of that precious little statue of yours. I don’t know what’s so special about it, it might be more special than me, but have you even spared a little heart for your poor wife whom you married by your own choice? Why do you marry me if you never treat me like a wife?"

"Amphitrite," Poseidon said coldly, "Since when gods married for love? Just do your own job as a queen." 

Poseidon is finally out of sight as Amphitrite clenches her fist, glaring at her husband's back. "Tch, what did the statue do to make you this crazy?" she mumbles. 

"Amphitrite, I do apologize for his manners." Hades pats her shoulder as he sees her in a trembling state, she gazes at him with tears spilling from her eyes. 

"There's no need to apologize," she wipes her tears, "It’s his fault… no, it's my fault. How stupid and naive I am to agree to marrying him in the first place. I thought that maybe… if I become a good wife; a good mother, then maybe he can at least show an ounce of love to me like any lover does… what did I do to deserve this?" 

"Don't say that, it’s his fault for being immature." 

"Immature?" she snapped at him, "No no no, it’s insanity. I saw it in his eyes, the possessiveness and madness when the part of the statue is missing, all for the sake of that? I don’t know how long I will have to bear this. I can slowly go insane too for centuries living in this lifeless marriage, Hades, especially when the son he so much loved is not my own blood-" She gasped and closed her mouth, Hades got caught off guard hearing it.

"What?" He holds her shoulder, “What do you mean? Didn’t Poseidon announce to the whole Greek pantheons about you bearing his child?” Amphitrite isn’t able to hold eye contact anymore seeing the confused but angry Hades. 

"Mom..."Her heart drops dead as she turns in horror to see him trembling, the familiar uncomfortable expression when he has to witness the familiar scene many times.

"Atlas!" She runs to hug him, "Did you just see the fight? Oh, I'm so sorry to have you see that." 

"Mom... what do you mean?" 

"W- what is it?" 

"So, you're not really my mom?" His eyes are getting glossier each time passed along with his red nose. "Then, where's my real mom? Did she abandon me?" The tears fall as his crying sound is getting louder making her feeling more guilty, she hugs him tightly and pat his blonde hair. 

“No no, of course not my dear… she’s umm… she-”

“I believe me and him deserve an explanation from you, Amphitrite.” He glared at Amphitrite like a predator caged its prey, unable to let her run away from the problem. After a long uncomfortable silence, she takes a breath first and stands up to glance at him. 

“You both deserve an explanation… but, promise me,” she continued, “Don’t tell Poseidon, at least not now, okay?” He nods as she leads them to Atlas’ bedroom and locks the door. She sits on his bed as she massages her head, trying to find the best words to explain while the two of them wait for her. 

“I already knew Atlas when he’s only a toddler, I still remember the sight of Poseidon holding him…”

… 

~The night before the wedding~

To her younger self when she was still a naive princess, who was once frightened by Poseidon’s first sight. The way he always ignores her or glares at her when she makes a mistake. Hundreds of insults and mockery threw at her, driving her to avoid him even more throughout years staying in Poseidon castle as his fiance because her father thought that it’s a “good thing” for her to get familiar with him before the marriage.

When she’s ready to go to sleep, relaxing her tense muscles before tomorrow's marriage, the sudden strange calming sound arouses her suspicion. She opens the doors and follows the sound. All the way to the bottom of the sea floors. She found the source of the sound from one of the rooms and opened the door a little bit. Her eyes went wide at such a beautiful sight of the cold tyrant of the sea showing a small smile toward the unknown baby, holding the sleeping baby with such a gentle touch while humming a calm deep lullaby with the moon illuminating him heavenly like an angel. 

“Impossible, how can he be so cruel, yet gentle at the same time?” She mutter

“Women, what are you doing?” She jumped at his sharp tone, once warm turned icy in a split second. She slowly opened the door, welcomed by his unamused face. She clears her throat to not feel pressured by the awkwardness, “My apologies, Poseidon, I just happened to hear your heavenly lullaby from my bedroom, I can’t help but listen to it too.” 

She glanced at the sleeping baby, a smile growing wide fighting the urge not to touch the cheek, “So, who’s this baby? He’s just as beautiful as you.” 

“My son.” 

Silence came again, as her mouth slightly opened and eyes wide in disbelief. Unsure what to even say, “S- so, you’ve married before, then?” she frowned when he kept silent, “Where’s your previous wife?” 

“Passed away.” He said in the usual cold tones, but she knew underneath that  there’s a slight crack and irritation as his gaze now turned to the moonlight. Of course she passed away, or else Poseidon wouldn’t even remarry. However, deep in her heart she knew there’s a small crack discovered he’s used to love a certain woman, and now the baby is the only thing left of that woman. 

“Sorry to hear that,” she continued, “What’s the name of the baby?”  

“Atlas.” 

… 

~the night after the marriage event~ 

It was a cold kiss, but she received it welcomely despite his expressionless face throughout the whole wedding, but it’s okay. “It’s really okay, he’s probably not used to me yet. One day he will!” She patted herself. Emerald eyes sparkled at the whole sea regions and the Greek pantheon of deities and nymphs congratulated them, isn’t this what she’s been dreaming of? Marrying a handsome prince and living happily ever after? 

During night time where everyone has a great time of feast, smiling and chattering. While Poseidon were discussing with his brothers and several gods, Amphitrite was accompanied by Aphrodite and Persephone having tea together as the both of them enjoyed their little chats while she quietly listened. 

“Dear Amphitrite sweetheart, may I ask why you would want to marry Poseidon? It’s clear as day that he’s hard to be swayed by love.” Amphitrie got caught off guard with Aphrodite's question, she rested her chin on her hand thinking the perfect way to explain it. 

“Well, I’m aware that a god like Poseidon is difficult to read and likes to close himself off from everyone. I’m aware too that this is a marriage for political reasons, but time itself is impossible to read too, who knows it’ll take time for him to open up to me, and maybe I can fix him.” 

Aphrodite giggled while pinching her cheek playfully, “Amphitrite, I hope you can keep your words, I’ll give you the best gift if you can win his heart.” 

“Haha, to be honest, I’m used to being scared of him too, but when I saw him holding his son gently in his arm it’s like seeing part of the real him open up. How can I not want to win his heart and show his other good side to me too ?”

“Son?” Persephone gasped and stood in surprise causing everyone to look at them, “What do you mean he has a son?” 

Suddenly, everyone is freezed, tons of eyes now peered at Amphitrtie who was surprised too at everyone’s new discovery. “I- I thought everyone know that he has a child-” 

Suddenly Poseidon touched her shoulder and leaned her closer to him as he announced to everyone, “Yes, I do have a son… with her.”

Everyone including his brothers and her families are elated by the news, congratulating the couple as they continued the feast. However, Amphitrite snapped at Poseidon who’s still avoiding her eye contact, questioning his suspicious act… head feels dizzy as she frowned at the announcement. Suddenly, Zeus wrapped his arm around Poseidon and Amphitrite in joyous, “Congratulations on having a child! So it turns out you guys already did a dirty thing before the marriage, huh?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Congratulations, I anticipate meeting my nephew by tomorrow.” Hades shook his hand while laughing, yet despite the wonderful news, Amphitrite got left confused all alone watching the crowd in line congratulate them, leaving her deep in thought of her mind.

…

“Poseidon, what’s with all of this? I thought everyone knew about your son.” Amphitrite sat on bed facing Poseidon who’s changing his clothes to something more comfortable, once again avoiding eye contact with her. She clenches her fist when he has the nerve to ignore her question, “Not only that, but you LIED to them about him being my son in blood? What about your previous wife? How would she feel about this?”

“Don’t remind me about Y/n, Amphitrite.” 

“Y/n? So that’s her name, huh? Don’t tell me that no one also knew about this Y/n.” 

Another silent response made her more convinced, knowing this, she slowly moved away from him, his unreadable expression made her stomach twist. “Poseidon, why would you lie?”

What are you trying to hide?

“All you need to know is that I did all of this to keep her and Atlas safe from the gods’ eyes. If they ever discover the truth about them, I’ll gouge their eyes and shred their bodies to pieces where their mouth wouldn’t spread all over to other realm,” Amphitrite shiver at his calm tone, she felt her heart skipped a beat at his eyes finally made an eye contact, the eyes that threaten her as if a trident ready to strike her if she made a single mistake, “This include you too Amphitrite, just do your job as a queen and a mother, and I’ll turn a blind eye on you. Remember that this is a marriage that’ll benefit your family.”

… 

“That’s all I know,” Amphitrite steady her breath as she lies her head down, feeling uncomfortable with the silence, “It’s true, ever since that, I wouldn’t dare to ask him about her. I- I don’t- I don’t know why my foolish self is still trying to love him despite his undying love for his previous wife.” 

Tears spilled from her eyes, words unable to be formed as she cover her cry from them. “Why did I even keep pursuing?” She thought, but a sudden heaviness on her caught her off guard, uncovering her face to see Atlas hugging her. 

“It’s ok, mom.” Amphitrite hug him back with more tears spilled, her heart melt knowing Atlas is still calling her mom despite the truth. However, Hades is still standing across from her as he Massages his forehead, still surprised yet angry, but at his foolish brother. 

“Atlas, can you please change your clothes and go have breakfast? Your mother and I still have to discuss about… this…further through.” Atlas nods as he changes his clothes and unlocks the door to go to the dining hall, leaving Amphitrite and Hades alone in his room. 

Hades approach Amphitrite to sit beside her as his hand tap on her shoulder, “I’m sorry to hear that… I never thought he would do that.” 

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is. As his brother, I shouldn’t have been too lenient on him, he’s just using you for his own benefit.”Amphitrite shake her head, “It’s partly my fault too for not refused it and being naive, I was too scared by my own father,” clearing her throat as she jump to different topic, “But, about her…” 

“Y/n…” Hades humm, “So she’s Atlas' biological mother, why does Poseidon hide her from everyone? Out of shame?”

“Shame?” 

“Poseidon is a pride god, if he loves her that much, what makes him want to hide her in the dark? Have you ever suspected her identity and background?” 

Amphitrite put her hand on the chin as she recalled her moment when she was in the library, however it put a frown on her face, “I have try to search about her in the library, yet no books have had a record about her, so for now I’m assuming that she’s not a goddess from this pantheon nor a nymph.”

“Not even a nymph? How did you come up with that assumption?” 

“From Atlas of course, if Y/n is a nymph from certain creatures, he will have the appearance or characteristic of that creature, however none of it are in him.”

“Fair enough.”

 “How about you? Does the name Y/n sound familiar?” 

“That’s… the problem, it’s new and unfamiliar within this patheon nor any other places, never for eons have I ever heard that name,” Hades massages his head and sighs as the mystery causes a headache to him., sick of his brother’s antics, he stand up, “I will ask him right now, he’s the only one who knows the truth.”

Hearing this, Amphitrite immediately stand and holds his shoulder as she shakes her head, “Don’t! If you ask him he will immediately know I told you and will slaughter me,” she continued after steadied her breath, “Please, I’m not stopping you to research about her, but don’t directly ask him.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him about this too. He has been hiding this far too long, I’m disappointed at his oddly obsessive behavior-” 

“Hades, your shoes.” Hearing her gasp, he looked down and froze, seeing the crimson blood seeping from under the bed all the way staining his shoes. He kneels, and looks under it to discover the missing part of the statue — the ring finger — feeling the hard rock texture, yet when he touches the bleeding part, he shivers from the soft rotten meat and bone texture. 

“There’s a dead body of a mortal hidden inside a statue, how is it under his bed?” He frown, “Moreover, the ring on that finger-“

“It can’t be, that’s the same pair of rings that Poseidon has.”

[lair-of-platonic-yanderes]

hi!!! Idk if you take requests!! But if you do can you MAYBE do Yandere platonic harbingers x Shy!Child!Reader? If not then ignore this!!^^

After the festival

Platonic! Yandere! Harbingers x GN! Shy! Child! Reader (+ Slight! Platonic! Yandere! Tsaritsa)

Description: Festival is over. Now it's time for a clean up. What... What's the kid are doing here?

Warning: English is my second language. OOC. Platonic Yandere. Took place before events of the game.

________

Snezhnaya was a cold nation. But, sometimes, something happens, that makes people feel warm.

Today, something like that was happening. First, from multiple festivals for kids' from the villages were was in the capital city. Tasty food, sweet beverages, games, performances, prizes and lots of people. A nice celebration to lift children's spirits.

Childe looked around an empty hall. Festival ended few hours ago, all invited kids were on their way home. The festival was a blast! Childe even managed to have fun with Anthon, Tonya and Teucer, who came from Morepesok to the capital city. Childe was happy. But now, it was time to have some rest.

Childe was ready to leave for his chamber, when he heard a quiet sneeze. He immediately perked up, and slowly moved where the sound came from.

Someone was hiding behind the giant colorful cube with cat faces painted on it (someone from House of Heath helped with decorations). Childe looked behind the cube.

Blue eyes met with [e/c] ones.

A quiet, shy voice filled the room.

"Mister... Can you, please, help me?"

____________

"So, let me get that straight... You were too shy to ask where one of the carriages, that will bring you back to your village, are?" normally, Childe would deal with the scared lost kid by himself, but the situation quickly got complicated, and he had to tell about the kid to other harbingers. Right now, he and some of his colleagues (Arlecchino and Pulcinella were called by Childe, Dottore and Columbina invited themselves) gather in one of the cabinets (one of the cozy ones). Right now, [Y/N] were sitting on the couch, with Columbina's coat wrapped around them, while Arlecchino was questioning them.

Kid gave a tiny nod, hiding their face in coat's fluff.

That moment, Fatui Harbingers, for the first time since they started to work together, have one similar thought.

'CUTE'

Columbina, who sat between Childe, and Dottore, leaned closer to Doctor, and whispered.

"If you ever thought about laying a finger on [Y/N], I will kill all of your segments."

Childe, who also heard her whisper, shivered. Arlecchino sighs.

"So, you were waiting in the corner. You tried to gather all your courage and ask for help, but you can't do it. Right?"

[Y/N] nodded again and hide even more behind the coat. The sounds of the roaring winds were muffled by the window.

That was The Complication. The snowstorm started. And, it seems, that storm will last for a few days. That, plus, the time to clean up the roads...

Kid will stuck in Zapolyarny Palace for a week at least. Childe can't just keep kid in his chambers for that duration! They will be found, and both them and Childe will get into trouble.

Arlecchino spoke again.

"And you stayed in the corner for a few hours, until you sneeze and were found by Childe." It wasn't a question, but kid nodded.

"Yes... I am sorry for describing him." [Y/N] looked down in shame, and hide deeper in the coat.

On second thought, Childe could simply bring kid to his chambers and said them not to leave it. Kid would probably stay there for a month.

Arlecchino rubbed her eyes. The situation was... Something. Still, they need to think what to do with the kid, if Pierro, who was updating Tsaritsa about them, won't be able to convince Cryo Archon to let [Y/N] stay in the palace.

Pulcinella tapped his fingers against the table. He cast a quick glance at the kid, who, at that point, were in a coat cacoon. Only a pair of eyes and small nose were visible from under the hood. An encouraging smile appeared on Pulcinella's face.

"Don't be nervous, young one. You aren't in trouble."

[Y/N] mumbled something, but, otherwise, stay quiet.

The door opened. Pierro and Capitano walked into the room. Number Fist of Fatui Harbingers walked straight to the couch, where [Y/N] were sitting. He was towering over the kid.

Capitano looked straight into the kid's eyes. Suddenly, he slowly and carefully, pressed his finger against their nose.

The room were silent. Did Capitano just... Booped kid's nose?

Capitano nodded, hummed and stepped aside. He glance over his shoulder to Pierro.

"They aren't dangerous."

Pierro cleared his throat. Detector's voice was calm.

"Her Majesty allowed them to stay."

And The Stay begun.

_________

Day 1 - Childe and Arlecchino

_______

[Y/N] tilted their head, looking at the food, that was put before them. Steak Tartare, or, as Arlecchino called it, at Hearthfire's Trail and at Calla Lily Seafood Soup, or, as Childe called it, at A Prize Catch.

Kid didn't know what to do. They weren't picky and were fine with eating the soup. But to eat tartare... [Y/N] didn't want to eat it, but they also didn't want to offend Arlecchino.

A pair of harbingers were sitting not far away, casting glances at the kid.

"Is it me, or thet looked like a sad kitten?" Childe whispered to Arlecchino, without looking away from [Y/N]. Arlecchino nodded. She can understand kid's dilemma. With a quiet chuckle, she stood up, went to the [Y/N]'s table, and picked up a plate with Hearthfire's Trail. Immediately, kid spoke.

"Miss Arlecchino, I will eat it, I pro-" she gently pressed a finger against their lips. A rare smile appeared on her face.

"Don't worry, child. It's on me. I should have realized, that not everyone is found of raw meat. I will simply cook it, so you can enjoy your Hearthfire's Trail."

Without another word, she left for the kitchen.

[Y/N] bit their lip, put soup closer and start eating it. It was tasty. [Y/N] hummed in delight.

Kid didn't notice Childe's proud gaze.

After a few more moments of observation, Childe stand up from his seat and walked to [Y/N]'s table.

"You like it?" he asked with a grin. Childe waited for the kid to nod, before asking the next question. "By the way, what is your favorite dish?"

[Y/N] chewed their lip, before mumbling.

"Pancakes..."

Kid answered right when Arlecchino returned with cooked Hearthfire's Trail.

[Y/N] ended up enjoying it.

~~~~~~~~~

Arlecchino and Childe spend half of the night baking pancakes for [Y/N].

Meanwhile, agents from House of Hearth and Childe's subordinates investigated the village, where [Y/N] lived.

_________

Day 2 - Sandrone and Scaramoushe

________

[Y/N] looked at the plush otter with big sparkling eyes.

"Wow! So cool." whispered kid, trying not to disturb the silence of the room. They looked at Scaramoushe, who tried to keep a neutral expression on his face. "Thank you, Mister Scaramoushe."

Scaramoushe just waved his hand.

"Yeah, don't mention it. Just, go to your room and play with your new toy."

[Y/N] nodded, thank him again and leave the room.

In a few minutes, Sandrone looked inside the room. With an amused expression, she asked.

"So, our great Number Six has a soft spot for kids?"

Scaramoushe growled.

"I did it, so brat won't bother me, that's all!"

Sandrone raised an eyebrow.

"So, instead of buying a toy, you sewed one?"

Scaramoushe clench his teeth, but, before he can say something, Arlecchino's loud yell echoes through the corridor.

"[Y/N]! Get down from Sandrone's robot! You will get hurt!"

Scaramoushe immediately ran past Sandrone. Boy could get hurt! Sandrone followed after him, loudly proclaiming.

"Don't worry, Arlecchino! I let them do it, they are safe!"

Next second, Childe's voice joined the screaming match.

"Well, others didn't allow [Y/N] to take a piggyback ride on your robot!"

Scaramoushe barked over his shoulder.

"So, you are trying to win over a kid with your robot? Back off, I will be their favorite!"

Sandrone gave him a nasty glance.

"We will see, puppet!"

~~~~~~~~~

The next morning [Y/N] get a bunch of handmade plush toys a mechanical toys.

Meanwhile, Sandrone, with help from Scaramoushe's subordinates, through Katherine and [Y/N]'s neighbors, collected information about the kid.

_________

Day 3 - Dottore and Pantalone

_________

"Hmm..." Dottore has been examined kid's finger through the magnifying glass. "Are you sure, that they have been hurt?"

Pantalone stopped going from one corner to another and modded.

"Yes! I saw a drop of blood on their finger, after they touched the mechanical toy."

Dottore rolled his eyes under his mask and looked at [Y/N]. As usual, they were quiet, looking at the floor.

Dottore sighed. The kid probably slightly pricked their finger. Nothing happened, but, here we are, Pantalone is fussing over that like a worried mother hen.

Dottore tutted and asked kid.

"Is it true? Were you hurt?"

"Mmmmm...!" kid hide their face behind their hands.

This again... Kid, when they were really frightened, made that sound. Like a cat trilling. Corners of Dottore's mouth go up.

"I will take it as a 'yes'."

Dottore picked up one of the band-aids he kept on his table, and put it around "hurt" finger.

"Here we go. You can continue playing."

Pantalone already was next to the kid, holding a lollipop towards them.

"Here, it will make the pain go away."

Kid shyly took the treat.

"Thank you, Mister Pantalone. Thank you, Mister Dottore."

[Y/N] then quickly left Dottore's office, not wanting to disturb grown-ups even more.

Dottore and Pantalone looked at each other.

"Adorkable." said a pair of harbingers in unison.

~~~~~~~~~~~

That evening, Pantalone bought a lot of child clothes.

Meanwhile, Dottore's segments picked up all necessary adoption documents.

___________

Day 4 - Pulcinella and La Signora

___________

"And that's how you solve that math problem." Signora circled the right answer, while talking to [Y/N]. The kid nodded with a thoughtful expression on their face.

Pulcinella quietly chuckled at the scene. For some reason, Signora decided to tutor the kid. She shut down Dottore's attempts in teaching kid something new. 

It was an endearing sight. Signora looked happy, while she spent time with the kid.

"Did I do it right?" asked kid, solving the next exercise. Signora nodded, ruffling their hair.

"Great job, [Y/N]."

They smile shyly. Pulcinella chucked again. He should bring some pantries to the child's room later.

~~~~~~~~

That day, [Y/N] had a whole cake for a dessert.

Meanwhile, La Signora was talking to Tsaritsa, trying to get her permission to remake one of the palace rooms into a classroom.

_________ 

Day 5 - Columbina and Capitano

_________

"Miss Columbina, are you sure, that it's okay?" whispered [Y/N]. Columbina nodded, while trying to get into a more comfortable position.

"Yes. Don't worry. It will be just a little interesting trip!"

Harbinger and child were hiding in one of the big travel carts among tents. Earlier today, Columbina offered [Y/N] to take a secret trip to Natlan. Her plan was to hide in one of the carts, that Capitano and his subordinates will take with them.

Suddenly, the tent cloth, that Columbina and [Y/N] were hiding under, was removed. A big hand carefully grabbed [Y/N] by the collar of their sweater.

In a second, Capitano hold [Y/N] and Columbina by their colors. Duo looked like a pair of kittens.

But, while Columbina just smiled, [Y/N] looked extremely guilty.

Capitano put [Y/N] down, let go of their sweater, and, instead, put their hand on the top of a child's head, ruffling their hair.

"You supposed to be more serious." Capitano nodded flatly, still holding Columbina in the air. She just laughed.

"I was bored."

Capitano breathe in.

"You suppose to be an example for [Y/N]."

Another laugh.

"They already have Signora as a good example. I am a fun one."

Capitano shook his head.

"Okay, go away, you two."

He put Columbina down and gently nudge [Y/N] towards the exit.

Columbia grabbed [Y/N]'s hand and ran away with kid in tow.

~~~~~~~

That night, Columbina sang a lullaby for [Y/N].

Meanwhile, Capitano ordered Fatui solders to keep an eye on the kid.

________

Day 6 - Pierro and Tsaritsa

________

Pierro looked directly into Tsaritsa's eyes. He spoke with a genuine smile.

"It's over. We did it."

A small smile appeared on Tsaritsa's face.

It was easy.

It was easy to get everything they need to make Zapolarny Palace a good place to raise a kid.

There will be no need for [Y/N] to go outside. Everything they need will be delivered in the palace.

They won't be need to go to school. Harbingers will tutor the kid.

[Y/N] will be there. Safe and sound. Under Tsaritsa's protection.

She and her Harbingers will be their family.

Tsaritsa's war with Celestia will start soon.

She will do everything to succeed.

And, if they could keep one child safe... If she could become a mother to [Y/N]... Her future victory will be a real triumph.

[vifilms]

daydreaming about tennisplayer!abby who is the best in the game, she’s been dominant almost since she was able to hold a racket in her hand. with each year passing by, there wasn’t anything else she’d rather be doing. she’s cocky about it too. not in a way that’s obvious, but enough to make sure her opponents know how good she is. with her power backing her monstrous serve, she tends to leave everyone in the dust, well, until you. it’s the first time her matches have gone to a third set. you’re getting in her head and she’s not too fond of it.

you’re younger than her but fuck…you’re amazing. abby’s experienced enough to pull herself together in the match point before the tiebreak catches up with her. the white sleeves stay pure as snow along with her reputation. the fact she almost let wimbledon slip through her fingers isn’t lost on her. it leaves her exposed to future opponents, yet she displays her charming smile as you hold the runner’s up prize, your hips touching hers.

it isn’t until the after party, she finds you hiding away from the swarm of people, alone on the beach as the sand kisses your feet, the moonlight illuminating your glowing skin.

abby wishes she wasn’t enchanted with you. you’re the competition, the best she’s had in years at that.

“didn’t like how the match went?” you question, offering a sip of your glass of wine.

“i should’ve ended it sooner.”

“not even going to give me a little credit?” you smirk as she takes a few sips on the chardonnay. abby allows the substance to influence her decision. along with the few glasses she’s finished tonight.

“the abby anderson drops the second set but has a courageous victory against the new and up-comer.” you laugh, looking her up and down before settling on a deep pair of curious blue eyes.

“don’t sweat it, the headlines will be praising you. you’re the golden girl.” you assure her as your hands play with the chain, tugging on it as you maneuver her closer to you.

“what are you playing at?” abby quints, blonde eyebrows furrowed.

“nothing, m’just curious i suppose.” you play with the collar of her button up, her toned pecs slightly exposed. the defined line in the middle disappearing under the tank she wore underneath it. the golden chain laying deliciously on her freckled skin, you wanted to choke her with it.

whether you would get off from it, you hadn’t decided.

“i want to see for myself if you’re as golden as they say.” you play with the ends of her blonde waves, released from her constricted braid. you lean in, perfume invading abby’s senses as you place your hands on her toned abdomen.

biting your lip as you peak through your eyelashes, practically pressing your body against hers.

“i think you’re reading this wrong.” the burly blonde pressed but you pinch her side which lurches her forward. playfully, you bite her earlobe.

“mhm, i don’t think so.” you grin like a cheshire cat, her heavy breathes are the only thing to be heard.

you lean back, leaving abby no choice but to lean in. delightfully, your face turning as her lips ghost over yours. you smirk, eating every single moment of it right up.

“reach up my dress, abby.”

“um” she pauses, chuckling softly. “can you say that again? i could have sworn you just said—”

“up my dress, anderson.” you quirk your eyebrow upwards. daring the uptight tennis legend to take a step into something she really shouldn’t. she’s never been tried quite like this, but she’s also never had someone who made her entire body light a flame.

her firm hand slightly drifts, fingertips softly kissing your thighs, the smooth skin feeling tempting under her fingertips. she gazes at you expectantly, waiting for your next instruction as abby traces incoherent patterns on your skin.

“waistband.” you command. with hooded eyelids, her fingertips skim over your lace as she feels something square, round edges, as she slips the piece of plastic out from under you.

“your hotel key?”

you grip her chin, tugging at her bottom lip as she pouts deliciously. “yes….and if you want to put your hands up my dress again, you’ll use it.”again, you nibble on her earlobe. “anderson, you may not scream in the court like most, but i’ll get you there tonight.”

taglist: @plutolovesyou @brackishkittie @nybueckers @only4theweekend @tlouloser @marvelwomenarehot0 @grey-jedi12 @r3starttt @b1ttersuite @pxgeturner @maxinephobia @marsworldd @aouiaa @mytwoseater @cherrybunny @twopeoplee @i-lov3-w0men @lvlymicha @half-of-a-gay

[aweina]

HI CAN I REQUEST MIKE SCHMIDT X FEM READER?? MAYBE SOME FLUFF I JUST- UGH I NEED HIM. anyways. PLEASE? THANKS! REMEMBER TO HYDRATE!

ᥫ᭡. winter heart , mike schmidt ( fluff )

you and me, hugging ? if you want …

tags fem + gn reader. pining. friends to ( redacted ). mike tries to be a meanie but he can’t. special abby cameo.

“cold?”

mike quirks a brow at your shivering form, the lack of warm layers and no sign of any other winter accessory made him visibly cringe.

“o-obviously.” your teeth clattered with heavy pronunciation, clinging to yourself for some ounce of warmth. “t-the forecast are liars, i’ll never trust them a-again.”

he huffs a laugh at your retort, his breath condensing into the winter air — swirling aimlessly into the filtered blue atmosphere. mike was extremely amused, he could tell you that. during the coldest seasons, you decided to only wear a sleeved shirt constructed with the thinnest fabric he’s ever seen.

you play dumb games, you win stupid prizes. he believes wholeheartedly.

at the same time, he grew concerned. your reddened nose sniffled in the cold air, shakily clinging onto your shirt like it could get any warmer. your brows were furrowed in discomfort, the moisture of your lips stolen by the crisp breeze. even in this condition, you stayed with him to watch abby — who was bustling in the frozen playground with her new friends.

instinctively, mike tugs down the zipper of his oversized fleece hoodie — the bulky layers he wore combating the bitter cold. he turns to your shivering form, suddenly feeling shy about his decision, but seeing you in such a vulnerable state for his own sake made him feel guilty. mike bites back a self-encouraging sigh, shaking his head in an attempt to get rid of the fluttering feeling inside his core. with his gloved hands snug in his pockets, he widens his arms to open his furry jacket — coughing dumbly to catch your attention.

you turned to him and tilted your head in confusion, darting your eyes towards his flushed face to the baggy graphic t-shirt and the oversized jacket that cling to his body, somehow it felt like a mockery to your cold state.

“haha … nice jacket, i know you’re much more warmer and smarter than me. you don’t have to rub it in.” you jested through a freezing hiss, rolling your eyes at his attempt to push your buttons.

“w-what? wait no! just come here, please.” his voice sounded a bit more desperate than he intended it to be, but he usually doesn’t offer this treatment to anybody.

still confused, you shuffled towards him with caution. you silently gasped when you got closer, feeling the comforting warmth radiating off his body.

mike gulps nervously, feeling your panting chest grazing his. it was a strange feeling, how in sync your heartbeats were — they danced in the rhyme together, the tempo seemed to quicken as you approached him closer and closer. finally, he finds the courage to wrap his fleece jacket around your quivering body, hesitantly hugging you through the thick fabric.

your eyes widen in realization, he’s hugging you. mike schmidt is hugging you. he felt so warm and cuddly, all the lousy layers of old t-shirts he forced himself to wear felt like laying on soft pillows. the fur threaded in his jacket brushed its warmth against your frozen skin. but the thing making you burn up was the fact you’re so close to mike, shyly wrapping your arms around his frame while your head is nearly tucked into the nape of his neck — but you hesitated to go any further.

“are you warm?” mike’s voice was gentle in your ear, the flush of his body melted your bitter coldness in an instant.

you slightly nodded, still a little disoriented from this predicament.

feeling more comfortable, mike takes his gloved hand out of his pocket, assuring your stiffness as he petted your head, guiding you to rest in the nape of his neck. his warm pulse tapped softly against your forehead. you could hear his life line — every breath he takes. this felt like heaven, being held in mike’s arms. then he’s not protesting, his melting grip was tighter — protective like someone could snatch you away from his arms. he loved the way you smelled, delicate perfume and fresh laundry. if he could keep this close and take in your scent, he would if it wasn’t so creepy for him to do.

there was a comfortable silence between the two of you. the childlike chants and laughter faded into the background, the bitter cold didn’t feel so bad anymore. it felt like your hearts were clinging onto each other, feeding the aching starvation of touch and warmth. he needed this, you needed it too.

“are you guys finally dating now?”

a youthful voice forced you both out of a love trance, eyes widened and heads snapped towards the smaller figure. it was abby, a huge grin on her flushed face — half covered with a comically large knitted scarf.

“abby … don’t.” mike winced at her bluntness, but he still held you in a warm embrace.

you allowed him to cling onto you, equally flustered at her words but much more comfortable, even playful at the weird circumstances.

“i’m still patiently waiting for your brother to ask me out.” you teased the younger schmidt, earning an excited giggle and an exasperated sigh from the older schmidt.

maybe he should’ve just offered you his jacket if you were going to embarrass him in front of his younger sister.

add. note : hope you enjoyed some fluff anon !! and thank you, stay hydrated too because we’re all thirsty for grumpy security guard mikey ㅜ ㅜ

[shaunamilfman]

can't wait for love (to destroy us) [1]

pairing: Jackie Taylor x reader x Shauna Shipman summary: What should you do when you're stuck in the middle of a fight between your friends? Definitely not whatever you're doing. Maybe your friends are using you to make the other jealous. So what? note: MDNI. masterlist

You took another sip, cautiously slow–hoping that if you managed to keep your mouth full long enough, neither of them would ask you your opinion. You could tell they wanted to drag you in. Both glancing at you out of the corner of their eyes whenever they made a particularly good point. Jackie would roll her eyes, and Shauna would huff, but neither had called you out on it yet.

This strategy isn't going to work forever. Not because you've suddenly found the courage to end it, but because you're almost out of beer–a fact you're suddenly faced with as your next sip is met with only air. You peer down into the cup with a despondent expression, the few drops pooling around the bottom mocking your efforts to stay neutral. There was no escaping now, even as you tried to swirl the cup to get one last sip out of it. Shauna's quick to jump on your moment of weakness, eyes narrowing on the now-empty cup. 

“Right?” Shauna prompts, her voice expectant as she locks eyes with you in search of support. The words hang in the air like a demand, not a request.

Your eyes widen in panic, glancing back and forth between them for an escape route. The irritated look she was sending Jackie softened as she looked over at you, but you still feared having the full force of that glare turned on you. It’s obvious her frustration is only paused, ready to redirect towards you at any sign of weakness.

God knows you didn't have the same guaranteed protection from it that Jackie did. With Jackie? There’s history. Messy at times, but undeniably deep. You’re not so lucky.

“Uh…” You begin, feeling like you’re swallowing sand. Both sets of eyes burn into you, waiting. You try to find some neutral ground–something you can say that won't set the other off on you. The only thing worse than being stuck in the middle is choosing sides. You learned quickly that it was a fast track to both of them being pissed at you if you did anything other than placate them.

Jackie looks at you in concern as she takes in the sight of your fidgeting hands, twitching with the anxiety you’re trying so hard to hide. She reaches out and puts a hand on your wrist, a subtle comfort at your obvious distress. You'd think it was sweet if you hadn't caught the way her eyes flicked toward Shauna to see if she was watching first. The realization that it was as much for Shauna’s detriment as it was for your benefit was a bitter pill to swallow, but you find comfort in it anyhow.

You breathe out a sigh of relief, about to answer–something vague and noncommittal–before Shauna reaches out and grabs your other wrist. It was more an imitation of Jackie than any genuine desire to comfort you, as the firmness of the grip would tell you. An attempt to claim ownership over you, as if you were a prize to be won. You were embarrassingly flattered, no matter how much you told yourself to be upset. There’s something intoxicating about being the center of their attention, even if for the wrong reasons.

Jackie's mouth formed a disapproving frown at the action, her grip tightening subtly. Shauna, on the other hand, looked unfazed. She didn't even look directly at Jackie, giving you her full attention. Jackie's thumb rubbed gently against your wrist, trying to soothe you as you started looking visibly stressed. 

“So?” Shauna prompted, looking at you imploringly. 

You think suddenly of fogged windows, the heavy condensation from each ragged breath hiding you away from the outside world. You remember the way her nails dug into your shoulders and the sharp sting of them as she raked them across your skin. The way she straddled you, rocking the whole car with the force of her hips as she rode your fingers. She clung to you like you were the only thing grounding her in that moment. Her breath was always hot against your neck; quiet gasps let out against your ear as she buried her head in your shoulder. You can still feel her sharp teeth and the way she bit into your shoulder, marking you with a mouth that left bruises across your collar. 

A whiny “Don't rush her,” coming from Jackie's direction, pulls you out of your memories, forcing you to snap back to the present. She sounds defensive, just as much about protecting you as it is about staking her own claim. The memories fade from your mind as you turn toward Jackie. You pull your jacket–Shauna’s jacket–tighter around your shoulders like a shield, hoping it’ll somehow protect you from the ramifications of this conversation. Jackie’s eyes narrow in on the movement immediately, and Shauna looks immeasurably smug.

Shauna’s eyes are still on you, waiting for an answer to her unspoken question: Do you still belong to her? She wants to know if you’re still with her. As much as you try to focus on her, you find your thoughts betraying you once again.

Flashes of Jackie’s delicate fingers curling in your hair fill your mind, soft hands tugging with a desperation that inspires devotion. You can almost feel the way her thighs would clench around your head, a demand for more of your attention even as she struggled to voice it. Desperate little noises that always turn into something suspiciously like a whimper. The taste of her skin beneath your lips, the smell of her favorite perfume as you mouthed at her neck. A hand thumping against the bed as she tries to keep herself quiet, trembling with the effort of it, so embarrassed at the thought of being caught like that. The hickeys that get left politely beneath where your shirt would cover, hidden away like a secret. But when she was feeling particularly bold, she’d leave them atop already bruised skin, deepening the ones Shauna’s scattered across you.

“What do I think?” You ask slowly, hoping your voice isn't as shaky as it sounds in your head. You have their full attention now, you can tell. That's a rare thing: even when they're using you against each other, they're still paying more attention to each other. It's a heady feeling that you quickly put an end to as you continue. “I think I should get us more drinks.” 

And run away. 

Like an adult. 

…

You weren’t sure what had started the fight or if it even mattered at this point. The specifics had become irrelevant, as the back-and-forths spiraled it into something much more dramatic than whatever had started it.

It was probably Shauna’s fault, you were willing to guess–she had a knack for that sort of thing–but you didn’t know for certain. No matter what they said about each other, they weren’t willing to tell you what exactly they were arguing about. They always kept it vague, details kept between them and shared only through glares and pointed comments. You’d been through this enough times to know better than to pry, but this was starting to go on far too long.

It’s so damn frustrating, and yet completely expected at the same time.

It wasn’t presumptuous of you to say you were Jackie and Shauna’s closest friend. It is to say, Jackie-and-Shauna’s closest friend. The distinction wasn’t lost on you. You hold no delusions about even measuring up to the other–they’ve been a package deal just as far back as you can remember. But out of everyone else in the world, you can’t say they’ve even given anyone else the time of day. 

It was a point of pride, as silly as that sometimes makes you feel. But it means you often end up playing mediator. You couldn’t help but take some level of satisfaction in how much they leaned on you, how much they wanted you to be on their side. Maybe you could have even done a good job of it if you were ever given the chance. No, they were much more interested in fighting over you. Mostly just through you. 

Which brings you to–

“No, she wants to go to the mall with me on Saturday. She doesn’t even like that movie!” Jackie insists voice sharp with unearned conviction, as she tugs on your wrist to pull you closer to her. It’s an oddly possessive gesture, which isn’t lost on you. Neither is the way she’s looking at Shauna, as if daring her to contradict her.

“No,” Shauna says stiffly, her irritation obvious. She squares her shoulders, refusing to back down. She’s never seen a fight she isn’t determined to win. “We just watched the first one last month. Tell her.” Her voice drops a notch, low and insistent, as she turns the brunt of her attention on you. A demand for your loyalty that you reluctantly concede to.

Jackie looks over at you expectantly, her eyes wide and pleading. She nearly stomps her foot on the ground when you nod in confirmation, catching herself at the last moment. She groans, running her hand through her hair in frustration, the strands slipping easily through her fingers as she struggles to control her emotions. There’s a flash of hurt in her eyes, quickly hidden as she crosses her arms over his chest.

It twists something in your chest, an ache that you jump to soothe. “We can go earlier. The movie doesn’t start till 4, right?”

“We were going to rewatch the first one, remember?” Shauna’s voice was clipped, patience wearing thin. Great, now Shauna’s annoyed with you too. She crosses her arms, mirroring Jackie’s defensiveness.

“Sunday, then?” You offer desperately, your voice betraying your rising panic. Jackie looks between you and Shauna, frustration evident in the set of her jaw, before giving a reluctant nod. This clearly wasn’t how she was expecting this interaction to go.

You either, as you were desperately counting on this weekend to study for your exam on Monday. Looks like that plan was out the window as well. 

Shauna, on the other hand, seems to consider it for a moment. Weighing her options with narrowed eyes, comparing it to whatever invisible scoreboard she’s keeping in her mind. Though, now that you think about it. There might be an actual scoreboard in her journal. Eventually she gives a curt nod, but you can tell it isn’t over. It’s not a full victory this way.

“I forgot something in your car,” Jackie says suddenly, giving you an expectant look. Your eyes narrow in confusion.

“I didn’t drive here–”

“Now.” 

Well then.

…

Your car is parked in some forgotten corner of the parking garage nearest to your dorm. Still close enough that it was technically quicker to get to your car than your dorm, but not quick enough to justify Jackie choosing it when your roommate wasn't even home. You'd tried to point this out as Jackie dragged you by the hand across the garage, but she'd just given you that look–the shut up and just do what I say look. 

It was one of your favorites. 

It's quiet besides the occasional squeak of the seat beneath the two of you or the steps of those aimlessly walking to their car on the floor below yours. Jackie seems to notice neither, her voice half-whisper and half-complaint as she looms large above you. 

“She’s just so–” a kiss pressed against your jaw, “–so frustrating–” teeth nipping at your skin, lingering near your ear. You're not sure if Jackie's trying to make her point or just trying to make you lose focus. Knowing her, probably both. 

“She knows what she's doing,” Jackie continues, fully committed to her one-sided argument. Her hands grip your shoulders possessively, like Shauna might pop out of nowhere–the glove box, maybe–and take you right out from under her. Her eyes dart toward the front seat again, like she's genuinely checking. “That little look, like she thinks she's already won, and then–”

“Jackie,” You try again, breathless from the feeling of her lips against your skin. You tilt your head back, giving her more room to work with while also making sure you don't have to look her in the eyes as you continue. “She barely–”

“Don't,” Jackie starts, biting at your collarbone in retribution. It's not painful, God knows Shauna's bit you harder for lesser crimes, but it's enough to make your words falter and die in your throat. Exactly what Jackie wanted. “Take her side.” Her voice is low, dangerous, like she's taking this as a declaration of war. Only Jackie Taylor could be this damn dramatic. 

It's hard not to think of earlier, the study session in the library that never was. It was stupid of you to allow Shauna to convince you to go to the library closest to her and Jackie's dorm. There were plenty of other libraries on campus that wouldn’t have spelled your doom, but she’d even thrown in a “please?” on the phone as she asked. That should have been your first clue that she was up to no good. Shauna never said please, but that’s what made it impossible to say no to her.

You should've known that Jackie would find a way to tag along once she saw the two of you together on her way to the dining hall. Her bag had hit the ground with a surprisingly heavy thump as she stormed over–you hadn’t realized she’d even carried anything in that bag, always making you carry her textbooks for her. She’d sat down with a terse smile on her face, already looking like she was prepared for war.

Shauna had teased her all night, in that knowing way that only a best friend could. It drove Jackie up the wall even at the best of times, and tonight was no different. There you were again, stuck in the middle of it–quite literally, this time. The two of them had taken the seats on either side of you, both refusing to be the one sitting across from you at the small table in the corner of the library. They wouldn’t even speak to each other except through you, a fucked-up game of telephone that made you want to tear your hair out in frustration.

You thought Jackie was going to die on the spot as Shauna’s hand started creeping up your leg, only ever when Jackie was talking to you. It was subtle at first, enough that you hadn’t even noticed, but it quickly became obvious to both you and Jackie what she was doing. Jackie was visibly flustered by the whole thing, eyes narrowed and cheeks darkening as her eyes kept glancing down at your lap. Though, all the while, she refused to verbally acknowledge it. Her own little form of revenge, as the lack of acknowledgment frustrated Shauna enough that her fingers started to press almost painfully into your skin.

Then, as Shauna mentioned how much fun she had with you last weekend in your car, you thought you were going to die on the spot. That little grin on Shauna’s face as she said it, the way her lips curled up at the corners as Jackie bristled, would be enough to have you trying to drag her to the nearest exit at the best of times. Your pulse had raced at the reminder, cheeks flushing as you shifted inconspicuously in your chair. Jackie had not graciously accepted that defeat in any sense of the word. 

Then came the argument about your weekend plans, leaving you almost helpless as they volleyed arguments back and forth. You hadn’t planned on going home with Jackie today, but you certainly wouldn’t be making any complaints.

“She's just mad I'm winning,” Jackie says confidently, placing an almost apologetic kiss against the reddened flesh of your collarbone. She cups the side of your face, looking you directly in the eye as if daring you to disagree. You wouldn’t call what she did back there winning, but you certainly weren’t going to point that out. The intoxicating scent of her perfume in the cramped backseat of your car makes it hard to focus on anything else.

“You can't win an argument,” You point out with no real conviction. You can’t bring yourself to care, but you know Jackie’s expecting some sort of back and forth here. The quicker you can get the conversation over with, the quicker you can get beneath that skirt she's been teasing you with all day. 

“Maybe you can't,” Jackie says smugly.  “But I can. And I am.” 

You don't point out that it's probably less of her winning the argument and more of Shauna just getting so mad that she storms off. Shauna’s temper was nothing less than legendary, and you certainly wouldn’t want to be on the other side of her anger. Jackie never seems to mind, though.

“Sure, Jackie.” 

“Don't patronize me.” She taps her finger warningly against your forehead. 

“Wouldn't dream of it.” You lift your arms up in surrender, palms facing toward her. She traces a fingertip up your arm, entangling your fingers together as she brings your hands down between you. 

“But you dream of me, right?”

“Every night, and twice on Sundays.” You squeeze her hand lightly for emphasis. 

Jackie rolls her eyes pointedly but still looks embarrassingly pleased at the words. “Loser,” She mutters, taking your hand and starting to guide it up her shirt. 

“You know what's worse than being a loser?”

Jackie shakes her head wordlessly, muscles contracting beneath the cold touch of your fingers as you skim your hands up her sides, taking the hem of her shirt up with them. Her lips part like she's about to say something teasing, but she just lets out the slightest gasp as you graze her bra. 

“Letting a loser fuck you.” 

Jackie scoffs, but there's no real bite to it. “Shut up,” She mutters, cheeks flushed as she closes her eyes for a moment before looking back at you. 

Her skin prickles with goosebumps as she raises her arms over her head, shivering as the cold air brushes against her bare shoulders as you toss her shirt somewhere behind her. She shivers again as your eyes trail slowly across her chest, but the slight hitch in her breath tells you it’s not entirely from the cold this time. Jackie impatiently grabs your hands, bringing them back to her hips with a grumbled complaint.

“Hurry up,” She complains, moving to cover her chest with her hands only to roll her eyes as you quickly smack them away. Her bra was doing little to shield herself from your attention–thin, lacey, and utterly immodest. Did she wear it for you, or did she hope for Shauna to see it?

“Can’t you ever be patient?” You ask dryly, hands settling back on her waist as you press a kiss to the hollow of her throat.

“You’re so annoying,” She mumbles, hands sliding up to grip at your hair as you trail your way down the line of her throat. Jackie lets out a breathy little gasp as you slide your hand down her leg, fingers curling over the hem of her skirt as you start to push it upward.

You're startled apart by a sharp rapping of knuckles against the window. You tilt your head back to see a familiar flannel waiting just outside the door to your back seat. Jackie glares over your shoulder, her jaw stiff as she looks right on past you. You roll your eyes, leaning forward so that you can open the door behind you. Jackie lets out a sharp noise of protest but makes no other move to stop you as you unlock the door. 

“Can we help you?” Jackie asks irritatedly, not bothering to hide her mused hair and heavy breathing. You can feel Jackie shifting in your lap, just enough to be intentional at the sight of Shauna. Her chest rises and falls with each breath, a sight that catches both you and Shauna for a moment before Shauna shakes it off like nothing happened.

Shauna pulls the door open the rest of the way before you can, holding out your textbook lazily in one hand. She leans down, her expression perfectly neutral except for the glint of satisfaction in her eyes. If you didn't know her as well as you did, you'd probably have missed it. Jackie's huff tells you she caught it as well–though, was that ever truly in doubt? 

“You forgot this,” Shauna says, purposely letting her fingers brush against yours as you take it from her hands. She trails her fingers up your wrist for a moment, just long enough for Jackie to get a good hard look at it from her place in your lap, before stepping back. 

“Thanks,” You say stupidly, blindly dropping it into the front passenger seat. Out of sight, out of mind. 

Shauna grins. “Don't mention–” She trails off as Jackie shifts around, her hand resting on the back of your neck as she turns your attention back toward her. 

“... It.” Shauna finishes lamely. 

“She won't,” Jackie says, sickly sweet. “Close the door, would you?”

Shauna gapes wordlessly at the two of you for a moment before finally slamming the door shut with more force than necessary, shaking the car with the effort of it. The thud of the door reverberates through the car as the sound of Shauna’s footsteps almost stomp away. 

Jackie lets out a satisfied hum, momentarily enjoying the win before her grip tightens on your neck. She looks like she’s a split second from throwing both you and the book out of the car entirely, eyes narrowed as she stares at Shauna until she disappears from view.

“I can’t believe she would try something like that,” Jackie mutters.

Jackie makes the whole situation out to be a real hardship–like Shauna’s derailed her plans for the evening. Graciously, you choose not to point out that Jackie had started rocking her hips down against your thigh the second she caught a glimpse of Shauna, a whine leaving her lips at just the thought of Shauna watching her get off on your thigh. Interestingly, Shauna hadn’t called her out on it either.

A part of you wishes they would just hurry up and get over whatever they started arguing about in the first place, but an even larger part of you is content to let this continue. It’s not like sleeping with either of them is new, but the intensity they’ve been going at you the last few weeks is nothing short of life changing. If this is the way they want to work out their argument–competing for your attention in a way you probably shouldn’t be allowing–then that’s their business.

“Jackie, maybe we should–” 

“Come on,” She whines. Her eyes are blown wide as she looks at you, her expression caught somewhere between desperation and frustration. You do so love when she gets like this. “You said you were going to fuck me.”

The words are blunt, so much less subtle than Jackie's usual choice of cloying glances and teasing words. She only ever gets like this when Shauna is involved. It should make you jealous, should make you want to storm off in a huff, but all it really does is make your mind up for you. 

“Don't make me ask again,” She says, a command that almost borders on a plea. 

Jackie, as if sensing your resistance breaking, grabs your wrist firmly and guides it upward. Your breath catches in your throat as her skirt rides up, fabric pooling around your wrist and revealing more of her skin with every moment. As your knuckles brush against the smooth skin of her inner thighs, Jackie just sighs, her hand leaving yours to rest her arms on your shoulder as she widens her stance to accommodate your hand. 

“I knew you'd come around,” She whispers, voice low and smug. Jackie's trying to tease you, like she so often does, but the way her thighs tremble ever so slightly as you palm her betrays her attention. 

She whines, hips pressing forward instinctively into the touch as she digs her nails into your shoulders. She's so warm and wet, even through the thin fabric of her panties. The fabric clings to her, leaving little to the imagination. You almost want to tease her back, ask her what–or who's–gotten her so worked up, but the noise she lets out as you pull her panties off to the side is so pathetic you don't even bother. You press forward slowly, watching her expression closely as you work two fingers inside her. 

“Jackie,” You murmur, your free hand coming up to her waist to steady her as she rocks onto your hand. She’s trying to find her own rhythm, utterly desperate and only adding to her own frustration. Your grip on her hip becomes firmer as you guide her into something she can maintain, setting a pace that leaves her gasping.

“God,” Jackie says, almost reverent as her head falls against your shoulder to bury her face into your neck. She clutches at your back, trying to pull you closer just as much as she claws at anything she can reach. You can hear her hitched breaths and quiet gasps against your ear as she tries and fails to keep herself quiet, uncomfortably aware of the chance of discovery.

“Good?” You ask, already expecting the answer. You just like hearing her say it.

“Don’t sound so smug…” She mutters, the words trailing off into a moan as you curl your fingers, just the way she likes. 

“Fine,” Jackie gasps, her hand fisting in your shirt. “Good–so good.”

You shush her, pressing a kiss against the side of her head as she bites at your shoulder in retaliation. “You’re going to get us caught,” You chide, hiding a laugh at her frustrated protests.

“You asked me to–God, shut up.”

You do laugh this time, letting Jackie kiss you to shut you up. It's messy, a rushed attempt to keep you from drawing attention to her. Her lips part against yours, teeth clashing and so uncoordinated, but so fucking perfect. Your arm burns, wrist aching from the angle, but you can't bring yourself to pay it any mind as Jackie's whine is muffled against your lips every time you grind your palm up against her clit. Not with Jackie like this–not with the way her thighs tremble as she chases the friction of your palm. 

The car feels impossibly small with Jackie pressed so tightly against you, barely giving you enough room to move your hand as Jackie comes with a choked sob, hips stuttering and nails digging into whatever she can reach.

[bearprofessorr]

a second chance.

sometimes getting stood up is the only way to find what you really needed.

ship: declan o'hara/fem!reader. tags/warnings: drinking, making out, no y/n. word count: 3.8k.

(crossposted on ao3)

---

The night was young, and you had plans. A date. One of the boys that helped out with the Cotswolds Round-up plucked up the courage to ask you out after a few weeks of idle chatter in the breakroom. You dressed up for the occasion - even if it was only for a drink at the one proper pub in the area. It wasn't often you would be asked out; normally you would be making the first move, hoping that it was reciprocated. Not tonight. 

You arrived slightly before you planned to meet him, wanting a drink to steady your nerves as the clock got closer to 8. you finished your first drink - a simple vodka coke - and looked back at the clock, now reading 8:15. Panic rose in your throat, but you kept it down by ordering another drink. Thankfully, there was a TV behind the bar that you could watch to pass the time, distract yourself and try and convince the other patrons of the pub that you were really enthused by... golf. 

The night continued to pass, and the golf blurred as you stared at the screen instead of watching it. The clock hit 8:45 and you had to swallow the pain of being stood up. You looked around the pub, seeing if anyone was looking at you - no one spared you a glance. There were faces you recognised, some from Corinium's other departments, but none that you spoke to at all; Until you looked down the bar, in a dim corner, noticing Corinium's prized jewel; Declan O' Hara, slowly nursing a glass of whiskey with his eyes just as glazed over as yours were, staring at the TV. Rumours had been circulating around the offices of Declan's wife being scouted for work in London after prized director Malhar Verma was spotted at the O'Hara's New Year's party. Although you knew nothing of Maud personally, she had been in some of your favourite films as a kid, and you were sure her return to the acting world would be well-received. However, from the looks of things, Declan wasn't taking the rumours too well, and from where you were sitting, it was unclear to you whether Declan was even sporting his wedding band. It wasn't as if you could go over and strike up a conversation, though. You had spoken to Declan in passing, mostly because your team helped Cameron with research and analytics - taking the analysis of audience retention and opinions off of her plate so she can do what she's best at. 

Whether he noticed you looking at him was another uncertainty - but you noticed his head move out of the corner of your eye, and you decided to act very interested in the golf again. When he stood up, you took no real notice, until he walked up next to you, got the bartender's attention and ordered another glass of whiskey. 

"Did Tony send you?" He leant his forearms on the bar, looking you over for anything he deemed suspicious behaviour, "'Cause if he did, tell him to fuck off, will you?"

"What?" You asked, more confused than defensive. 

"You work at Corinium, do you not?" Declan mirrored your expression, eyebrows furrowed as he waited for you to respond.

"Yeah, but I'm no spy - promise." You put your hands up in defence, giving Declan a weak smile and a shrug to try and calm his nerves. The bartender came over with Declan's drink before he could speak, so he quickly thanked him and took a long sip before continuing.

"So you just come to the pub - all dolled up and alone, for fun?" 

"I wasn't supposed to be. I got stood up."

"Oh. Sorry..." He awkwardly patted your shoulder, in some kind of apology - or sympathy. 

"Don't be. It was my mistake to assume he was being genuine."

"Men are cunts, take it from me - don't waste your time on them." His mind immediately darted to Rupert Campbell-Black, and his attempts to court his daughter. A small part of him looked at you, noticing you and Taggie appeared similar in age and he chastised himself for the thought. He went to say your name, but realised very visibly that he couldn't recall it, even though he recognised you. You noticed this and held out your hand, introducing yourself like you were taught to.

"I work with Cameron on research." You smiled, appreciating his gentle grip as Declan took you hand in his to shake it, placing his other hand on top to solidify the gesture. "We've actually been in the same meetings for the last month."

"Ah, that explains why I've seen you around - wait, are you-"

"Brainiac, yeah. Tony called me that once - probably not in the nicest way - and it just... stuck." You rolled your eyes at the memory, sighing, detaching your hands to run your fingers through your hair, "But I would prefer for that to stay at work. Obviously."

"Obviously," He parroted, "Of course." He noticed he hadn't reciprocated the greeting, and hated the fact he assumed people knew who he was, "I'm Declan."

"I know that." Declan winced ever so slightly at your response. You smiled without thinking, for the first time that night, "You're the golden goose of the network; and working with Cameron, I do research for your show. I think if I didn't know who you were through all that I'd be kicked to the street."

"Right." Declan chuckled, looking defeated as the conversation fell into a lull. "If you don't mind me asking," He presented the question, his journalistic instincts kicking in, "Who was it you were supposed to be meeting here?"

"Sebastian." The name rang a bell, with Declan recognising him for around the offices, mostly tailing Cameron wherever she went. Before he could make a comment, you spoke back up, "He... well- he said we would meet here and go for dinner, but that clearly isn't happening. I'd rather not dwell on it, if that's alright." You gave a flat smile, taking a long breath to stop the anxieties from crawling back into your mind. "I should have been realistic, he's... he's him, and I'm-"

"Don't sell yourself short. You're a beautiful woman, and it's a pity for him he hadn't recognised that." Declan cut you off, a stern look on his face. He took a moment to truly look at you then, in a way he hadn't dedicated the time to before - what self-respecting married man would spend his time gazing at the women he worked with? 

As much as you would have wanted to believe him, wrap yourself in his kind words, you simply couldn't. What did it matter if you were beautiful if no one was around to treat you as if you were? Actions and words meant very different things - both needed to be true if you wanted to believe it. This came across clearly on your face as you turned away to stare into your glass, both hands interlocked around it on the bar. 

"Thank you, but that doesn't change anything." You sighed, draining the last of your drink into your mouth, pulling your bag onto your shoulder, "I'm sure you didn't come here to comfort my bruised ego - I'll get out of your way so you can actually enjoy your night."

"And what enjoyment do you think I came here for?"

"I don't know," You shrugged, scanning the room before looking back at the TV, "Maybe you just wanted to watch the golf."

He laughed at that, raising his eyebrows in disbelief, leaning his back against the bar as you stepped away from it, "Really?"

"Look, what else am I supposed to say?" You looked down at his hand around his whiskey glass, noticing he was still wearing his ring, but the words came out of your mouth before you could hold them back, "That you've come here to drown out your troubles? I'm not like you, Declan, I don't pry."

He noticed your eyes dip from his, and a part of him wanted to hear you say his name again, in that perfect accent of yours. It was that same part of him that he kept locked away for fear of turning into the men he criticised. The small glint in his eye at that quickly disappeared, not without you noticing. "Maybe you should. You'd learn a lot about a person that way."

"You look like you're dying to tell me why you're actually here," You stood your ground, relaxing your posture, "so, go ahead."

"I wouldn't say dying to, but if you insist-" Declan teased, shrugging while he gestured with his glass for you to sit back down, but when you didn't, he nodded to acknowledge your lack of action and continued, "I came here to avoid Taggie sitting me down and trying to stop me from falling into 'old habits'." He exaggerated with the curl of his fingers. 

"Old habits like the one in your hand?"

"Bingo."

"Maybe you should listen to your daughter, Declan."

"Maybe you should mind your own business, darling." He mocked, enjoying the anger that immediately rose to your face, only to be concealed - except the lingering red around your ears.

"You're the one who-" You scoffed, noticing the smile playing on Declan's face and taking an audible breath, turning on your heel, "Forget it. Enjoy your habits, just try not to leave when the bar closes - makes you look like you have a problem."

"It's only a problem if I leave alone." Declan called out to you, and he watched as you stopped mid-step and placed your foot down delicately.

You paused, still facing the door, hands tensing as you considered your options. There were two ways this could go, if you stayed - and misread his signals, you go home disappointed. If you're right about the undertone of his words, and you stay, you can forget Sebastian and enjoy some good company - maybe more.  Already having been disappointed by one man tonight, the only way that has the potential to change is if you stay. 

"Is that so?" You turned, your head tilting to emphasise the playful nature of your question. "In my mind that would just be two people fuelling each other's addictions, but if you'd prefer I stay to make sure you get home in one piece-"

"I can take care of myself, you wouldn't need to carry me home." He paused, "If anything, the opposite's more likely."

"I think you underestimate how many people I've drunk under the table who've thought they can hold a light to my drinking prowess." You were bluffing - you'd only competed against one person, who was already pissed and was half-way to the bathroom after the first drink. 

"And you're the one saying I've got a habit? Looks like you've been practicing yourself."

"Only on weekends." You joked, and by the look on his face, it was clear Declan understood you were playing up your tolerance, and made space for you at the bar as you stepped closer.

"Right." He chuckled, "It's not for sport, then?"

"You could say it's more a hobby." You smiled, taking your seat facing Declan, while leaning an arm on the bar. "There's not much else to do out here."

"It's fair to indulge every so often." He gestured with his glass to the bartender for another round, taking the last sips from it, "Less destructive than hunting."

You rolled your eyes, the reminders of your summer job at a range leaving a sour taste in your mouth that was quickly replaced with a drink. "It's a hobby for assholes with delusions of grandeur, as far as my interactions with them have gone."

"So, the whole of Cotchester?" Declan raised an eyebrow, eyes following yours.

"Unfortunately so." 

"I'm certain you've heard everything there is to know, then?"

"Not that isn't already common knowledge."

"You'd be surprised - like how we all 'know' about Cameron and Tony-" The commonplace gossip slipped from Declan's mouth before he could think, but since it was only to another Corinium member, he realised it was safe to speculate. When you cut him off to fill the rest of his sentence, he breathed out a small sigh of relief.

"But his wife's none the wiser, yes I'm aware. I don't have the protections you do to go around telling everyone's business to any ears that'll listen." You shook your head, relaxing it to rest on your hand, propped up on the bar.

"Now, what's that supposed to mean?"

"You're Declan O' Hara. Your whole schtick is digging up people's pasts, making a living off of the skeletons in their closets." You accused with a flourish, taking a long sip from your glass.

"Not always."

"But you have, right? Like with Rupert - you didn't say what it was but I know for a fact you had something catastrophic." There was a sparkle in your eye at that, the thrill of the chase, Declan knew that tone - he used it himself when he knew he had someone pinned. Backed into a corner, ready to strike. "You reached for something. I saw. Twice during that interview when you were readying yourself for the question, you reached," You reached across, poking the side of his chest. "Right there, for your blazer pocket."

"I was bluffing - to throw him off, and it worked like a charm." Declan brushed your hand away, lightly closing his hand over yours. Your heart fluttered at the contact, "Now, if I did have something on Rupert, as soon as I made the choice not to say it on air, that information never really existed."

"Because of your daughter?"

The question caused him to pause, the words hanging in the air. 

"What?" He tried to regain his balance, his gut tossing itself to the side. Thankfully, you didn't notice, and kept talking to fill the silence. 

"I overheard people talking about her bursting into the building to track him down during the break - did she know?" You interrupted yourself, "Was that what you were going to expose him for?"

Declan shook his head, trying his best to mask the disdain he felt for Rupert's advances on Taggie, "No, there wasn't anything to expose. Rupert's life has been incredibly public, everything I said was already out there, public knowledge."

"Tony and Cameron public or actually public?"

"Front page of 'The Times' public."

"Hmm." You didn't look fully convinced, but dropped the subject simply because of the look Declan was giving you - stern, final. "You two seem... friendly."

"We are." Declan agreed, adding with a knowing smile, "He's better than people assume he is - once he comes back down to earth." 

You chuckled at that, knowing the stories that filtered through the area of his specific brand of ego. The alcohol had fully seeped into your bloodstream now, if the dull pulse of your heartbeat in the back of your head was anything to go by. The lights seemed to shine a little brighter, haloing Declan in a warm glow. You didn't say anything, didn't feel the need to. You simply stared, observing how in the silence, Declan turned to face ahead of him, leaving you with the side profile of his face. He was tired, that much was evident - the light beginnings of unshaved stubble rising on his cheeks, a similar shade to the bags under his eyes, half-hooded eyes that threatened to close without forceful blinks every so often. It was only once you hand made contact with the side of his face that you realised it had moved to brush against his cheek, a slow, soft movement with the backs of your fingers. Declan moved his eyes before his head, an equally soft look and light glisten of water in them as they noticed the touch. 

Your eyes widened, your hand froze, you took in a short breath and held it tight in your chest. As soon as your hand twitched to move back, his rushed to hold it, trying to form the sentences in his mind to express what had made his heart stutter. All that came out of his mouth, like a plea, was the simple question;

"Can I kiss you?" 

You barely had time to process your head nodding, your instincts answering for you, before his lips met with yours for the first time. The first thing you noticed was how he tasted, of whiskey and cigarettes, combining with the scents of cedarwood - it was addicting to say the least. He pulled back, Declan's hand lingering on your cheek. Your eyes looked into his to try and find any hint of hesitation, of regret, and found none.

It was the light jeering of a table off in the corner that took you both out of the moment, made you duck to hide your blushing face from the other patrons of the bar. 

"Don't listen to them," Declan used the hand on your cheek to guide your face to look back at him, "They're only playing around."

"It's hard not to, not when I can feel them looking at me-" You cut yourself off, draining the rest of your glass. It was almost abrupt, the way you stood, grabbing your bag. Declan put a hand on your arm, trying to slow you down, and you answered his question with your own before he was able to ask it, "Are you coming or not?"

It took a moment for his mind to catch up, but as soon as he met your eyeline again, saw the light reflect in them, he nodded and slid his hand down your arm to lace your fingers together - the bar had his card on file, they would charge what they wanted. Frankly, he couldn't give a shit about how much he had spent, all he wanted was to follow you wherever you decided to go. That was good enough for you, and the pair of you left the bar to light cheers from the same table as before. As soon as you were outside, as soon as Declan knew there were no more eyes on you but his, he pulled you closer, feeling the goosebumps from the chilled air on your skin.

Declan's eyes were focused on your lips, physically restraining himself from devouring you there. You took the initiative in a rare moment of confidence, hovering over his lips before pressing them together, breaking apart for a moment only to return open-mouthed, deepening the kiss; His hands rushed to pull you closer, tangling into your hair and around your waist, fabric bunching under his grip. You pulled away, the chill of the night forcing you out of the moment. Declan chased your lips with his, instead electing to brush their noses together before pressing his forehead to yours. "What's wrong, darling?"

You smiled at that, had to stop yourself from breaking down into a puddle of laughter at how soft the situation had turned, "I- We might freeze to death out here if every ten paces you stop and-" You dodged his lips again, turning your head so they pressed against your cheek, still giggling all the while "-God, if you don't let us actually get to where we're going, I'll never forgive you."

It was almost childlike, how Declan pleaded with you, how his round brown eyes tracked yours, "I'll keep you warm, sweetheart, I swear."

"Declan-"

"No-" He interrupted, running his hands down your arms, interlocking your fingers once he reached your hands.

"As much as I would love to take your word for it, I can't feel my hands right now."

"They're fucking freezing." Declan commented, pressing both of your hands together so he could cup his around them in some attempt to warm them up. 

And at that moment, the bright lights from the unfortunate turn of a car into the driveway of the pub caught you both off guard, and something in your gut felt the need to make significant distance between you and Declan. Luckily so, since as the car pulled up, Declan recognised it and winced, knowing what was going to happen already. Not Taggie, but Rupert stepped out of the family's car first, with his daughter in the passenger's seat. 

"Fuck."

"Declan! Man of the hour, thought I'd find you rotting away here!" Rupert cheerily leant on the bonnet of the car, a shit-eating grin on his face as he crossed his arms. "Look, I'm not one to judge what a man does with his time but-"

"Fuck off Rupert." Declan rolled his eyes, pulling his blazer across himself. You were glad you hadn't been noticed, and tried to just start walking home when Rupert lifted himself off the car and walked with a brisk pace to step in front of you.

"Not so fast, sweetheart." He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, not quite meeting your eye, "I know the last thing you want to do is talk, but I'm not about to stand here and let you walk home by yourself."

He turned around to look back at the car, watching how Taggie had stepped out and was standing face-to-face with her dad, chastising him for staying out so late. Declan looked over for a moment, offered a small wave to you and Rupert and resigned himself to the justified beratement from his daughter - he knew in the bottom of his heart that she was right, but drinking was the easy way out and they both knew that. 

Taggie carted him into the front seat of the passenger's side, and beckoned Rupert over with a stern but tired look on her face. Rupert patted you on the shoulder, leaving you with a small, "Just one second, alright?" before jogging over to Taggie. You couldn't hear what they were saying, but with the vague gestures that Rupert made to you and the glances you caught from Taggie, you assumed they were talking about you. It made you want to dissolve, but that was the risk you took. And, at the end of the day, you were glad of the rest of the night you had, even if it ended prematurely.

Rupert, ever the gentleman, walked you the 30 minutes home, in relative silence. He broke it only to ask your name and if you were alright, both questions that you answered with the least information required. 

After a particularly awkward walk, you got to your door, and as you fumbled with your keys, you paused, took a breath and turned to face Rupert. "Look, I don't want this to become a whole ordeal-"

"Don't worry, I won't tell a soul." Rupert smiled, and it looked more genuine than the ones he flashed on Declan's show, "Your secret is safe with me." He reassured, nodding goodnight as you disappeared into your house to sneak into bed, alone.

[iguanodont]

The Flag Chase

Shown here is a late summer ritual carried out by the Ruruumi bachelor group: garbed in little more than a decorative collar, a young gifter climbs onto the back of a wild Ahoũitre, the Resplendent Flagdeer, to remove its brilliantly colored display feathers as a trophy to present during the nuptial gifting ceremonies in the fall. Using an obsidian knife, the cut must be clean enough to shed no more than a few drops of blood, without damaging the feathers, and performed without being hurled to the ground by the bucking animal. It is a sport requiring an impressive display of courage, agility, and control over one’s own trunkhorse, and for many kakroum bachelors, this and related high risk sports are a rite of status in their tightly knit brotherhoods. Many bachelor groups will specialize in ‘capturing’ a specific animal, though flagdeer are exceptionally prized for their feathers, which adorn the regalia of many clan residents. It is a feat that frequently ends in serious injury or death, but something that only a frivolous gifter can afford to perform, free from the responsibility of maintaining a village. In the process, he proves in himself the sort of strength and cleverness that any would-be mother would wish to see in her own daughters.

As for the flagdeer, it will be released after having been separated from its feathers. Though its wounds are relatively minor, it will have no hope of impressing its own kind in the coming mating season. Flag removal is a strategy employed by sparring male flagdeer as well, which will attempt to mangle or nip off the other’s display feathers to oust the competition. If the damage is minor, the flags will regrow the following year, but the cut made a birg’s knife frequently takes the entire “hand” of the appendage, preventing a complete regeneration.

Milder imitations of this sport are practiced by both children and adults. One common variant involves two teams, each defending am urwuzhu (mid-sized livestock) with a ribbon or flag tied to some part of its body. The opposing teams attempt to remove the flag from each other’s animal and carry it back to their section of the village. Such games can become immensely rowdy and still result in a lot of bruises, scrapes, and animal bites. Twowi children play a similar game, but wanting for a farm animal will chase after a fellow birg’s tail tassels instead.

————

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[harmonicakai]

Like Real People Do

Pairing: Gyuvin x Reader

Summary: You find yourself falling for the cute boy whose writing assignments you proofread, and discover that your lives have been intertwined for longer than you thought.

Tropes: tutor!reader, basketball player!gyuvin, writers, soulmates, college AU, fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: literally none it’s so cute

A/N: This is a formal apology for my Beomgyu angst <3

“And isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some Invisible string Tying you to me?” —Invisible String, Taylor Swift

Gyuvin certainly doesn’t need any help with English, but it gives him a good excuse to spend time in between classes and basketball practice staring at you.

If anything, your talents would be better suited to helping one of his classmates understand all the old poems or crazy novels that they get assigned, but he’s the one who lucked out when your former professor suggested you read her most promising student’s work.

From the first draft, you were hooked, and had somehow started a writer’s circle where just the two of you meet weekly to share your works in progress. 

In no time, you’ve helped Gyuvin become one of the top students in Writing 101, and he’s worried you’ll notice that he’d be just fine if you stopped helping him. Still, the A’s keep rolling in and you keep meeting up with him anyway.

When Gyuvin’s latest short story gets nominated for a departmental prize, you’re over the moon for him.

“You are so amazing,” you smile up at him. “We should celebrate! That’s a really big deal. I was nominated last year, but didn’t come close to winning.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he points out, looking down at the ground and rubbing the back of his neck. “Really, Y/N. If I win, it would be just as much your prize as it would be mine.”

“Don’t be silly,” you say, packing up the rest of your lunch. You usually only see him in the library at your designated meeting time, but today, he sought you out in the courtyard to make sure you were the first person he told. “I’m just the editor. All of the ideas came from you. Plus, I’m only good at English because I grew up speaking it. It’s much more impressive for you to have learned it recently and write at the level that you do.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Y/N,” he replies, helping you up off your picnic blanket. Before you can do it yourself, he’s already reaching down to fold it, his long arms handling the fabric with ease. “You’d write circles around me any day.”

“I don’t want to get into another compliment war,” you giggle, swinging your backpack over your shoulder. Recently, it’s been filled with way too many books, and your classes are so jam-packed that you never have time to run back to your room in between them.

“Here, Y/N, let me,” he says, taking your backpack from you. He’s already got his own on, but he wears yours over his front, barely even flinching at the extra weight. “Where are you headed next? I’m done with my classes for the day, so I can walk you.”

He’s always been desperate to ask you to hang out outside of your brainstorming sessions, but every time he thinks he’s worked up the courage, you’ll laugh or smile or even just glance at him and his brain short circuits.

“I have a music class across campus in thirty minutes,” you reply. “Don’t you live the other way, though? You really don’t have to walk me. It’s pretty far.”

“I want to,” Gyuvin reassures you. He offers his hand. “Here. I walk pretty fast, so let’s make sure I don’t leave you behind.”

You hesitate for a moment before taking it. You’ve had a crush on Gyuvin ever since the two of you first crossed paths—he’s the literal embodiment of sunshine trapped inside a cute boy—but things have only ever been friendly between the two of you.

His hand is big, wrapping itself around yours almost entirely. The walk is silent, although you swear you can hear your heart about to beat out of your chest as you pull him along your usual route. Gyuvin makes sure to always let you lead.

“You know,” you start, still not looking back at him. “We’re kind of like Orpheus and Eurydice right now.”

Gyuvin lights up at the reference, with mythology being one of the first things you two really bonded over. “If you looked back at me, the only thing I’d probably die of is how cute you are, Y/N.”

You’re glad you’re turned away so he can’t see the bright blush that’s spread across your cheeks. His words get you so flustered that you don’t even notice you’ve stopped walking.

“Did I say something wrong?” Gyuvin asks, his voice laced with concern. He moves to face you, your height difference causing him to crane his neck down. Meanwhile, your gaze is locked on your shoes.

“Gyuvin,” you say, still refusing to meet his eye. You pull him over to a nearby bench. “Remember when I said I liked the love story you wrote the other day?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he confirms. “You complimented me on how realistic it was and I told you it was only because I based it off of real life.”

“Was it…” your words catch in your throat, unable to face the embarrassment of if you’re wrong. “Was it about us?”

“Yes,” he admits almost immediately. You finally turn to face him, greeted by a nervous look. “Listen, Y/N. I only wrote it because I knew you’d read it, and I thought maybe if you saw how good characters that were a lot like us could be together, you’d give me a chance in real life. But you didn’t really notice, or maybe you just wanted to ignore it, so I kind of abandoned all hope of us ever being together.”

You blink back at him. How could you be so oblivious? Your entire major was based on analyzing words, and you couldn’t even see that he wanted to be with you so badly that he had to write it into existence.

Words always come easy to you, except at this very moment.

“You abandoned all hope?” is all you can manage to get out. You try to pull your hand away, but he only grips it tighter.

“I tried,” Gyuvin says, his voice soft. “But you’re all I ever think about. I honestly don’t think I’ll ever be capable of writing someone who even comes close to how wonderful I think you are, Y/N. There just aren’t words to describe all the ways in which you’re special to me.”

You laugh, his words making tears well up in your eyes. “You know, I used to go to basketball games a lot before we even met, just so I wouldn’t have to feel so lonely all the time. And I remember liking your smile and the way you always encouraged your teammates. I would go home and wish I had someone like you in my life.”

“You’re kidding,” he says, taking out his wallet. You knit your brows in confusion, watching as he pulls out a small piece of paper and unfolds it. “Here.”

He hands it to you and your eyes widen at the words printed out. It’s the poem that you had published in the school’s literary magazine last spring about wanting to romanticize your life. Talking about your feelings makes you anxious, but nobody reads those publications. Except for Gyuvin, apparently.

“I liked you before we even met, too,” Gyuvin confesses. “Your poem is actually the reason I got into writing in the first place. I used to read it before all of my games, but I know all the words by heart now, so I just keep it in my wallet for good luck.”

This all feels too good to be true, but his touch keeps you grounded in reality.

“Maybe I should start coming to basketball games again, then,” you think out loud. “I stopped going because I felt awkward not knowing anybody.”

“Well, now you’d know me, and I’ll make sure the whole team gets to know you, too, okay?” The way he smiles at you, his eyes so full of light, takes your breath away.

“Really?” you ask, looking at him in disbelief. The thought of meeting so many new people at the same time scares you, but if Gyuvin likes them, you’re sure you will too.

“On one condition,” he says, closing the gap between the two of you. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his hand settling on your cheek. “I get to introduce you as my girlfriend.”

“Deal,” you grin, inching closer until your lips are pressed against his. You’re nervous that he’ll somehow figure out that you’ve only ever read about kissing in books, but the way he melts into you tells you that he doesn’t mind.

“You’re going to be late for class,” Gyuvin reminds you, pulling away. He desperately wants to keep going, but not at the expense of your grades.

“Class can wait,” you say, leaning in for another kiss. Your fingers lace themselves through his soft, messy hair. “I said we’d celebrate your nomination, so let’s celebrate.”

[eraenaa]

The Prince's Prize

Aemond Targaryen x Riverlady Reader Tag List

Synopsis: After his victories in the Riverlands, Prince Aemond Targaryen sought for a trophy— his spoils of war. He sought for you, the daughter of the lord who hosted him whilst he wagged his war.

Warnings: Barely any plot; just smut, Mature, 18+, Oral Sex (F & M receiving), Fingering, P in V sex, Choking, Not Proofread 

Word Count: 2, 720

Inspired by my Original Fic on AO3, Rivers of Fire

“The… the prince calls for you in his chambers, my lady.” Your handmaid hesitated to say as you were readying yourself for bed. It was a scandal to say the least, the prince humiliating you in a hall where a banquet commenced, all of his family’s supporters in the Riverlands in attendance and witnessing as he declared that you will be his “Beautiful, shinning prize.” As if you were some common whore. But you suppose you were one now. You could no longer keep him at bay. For weeks, you’ve felt his eye linger, his presence growing nearer and nearer. You’ve tried your earnest effort to avoid him— to keep him at arm’s length, but the prince could no longer be denied. He wanted you, and he had made it known. Subjecting you to a fate that no maiden nor respectable noblewoman should ever be subjected to. You were now Prince Aemond’s bedmate. You are now his trophy. His spoils of war.

You gave your handmaid a nod and took in a shaky breath. Wiping your clammed palms against the silk of your robe. Your graceful steps felt heavy as you walked down the halls of your home, your body leading you to the way of the prince. You took in a deep breath to calm your heart at what the night will bring. Your trembling hands managed to knock on the wooden door, waiting for a reply. “Come in,” you hear the prince’s silky voice; the voice that had been haunting you ever since he’d arrived in the Riverlands. You hesitantly opened the wooden door, your steps uncertain and your gaze on the floor as you entered his chambers. 

Aemond watched as you demurely stood by the door. Eyes shielded from him, frame rigid in uncertainty. “Come here,” He ordered as he sat on an armchair, he had been battling himself throughout the night if he should ask for your presence in his chambers. But he could no longer be patient, after moons of restraint, he needed to have you. You took slow steps and stood before the prince. He motioned for you to step closer, to stand at arm’s length and you mustered all of the courage in you to do as he asked. To be obliging as your father had instructed to save you and your land from the destruction of the prince when things do not go his way. A sacrificial lamb of your house to appease a dragon.

Aemond hummed and let his fingers feel the fabric of your robe, the silk fabric hiding you from him. “Take it off,” he ordered. Watching as your eyes grow wide and your cheeks flush. Aemond clenched his jaw as you started to do as he said. He knew it was wrong to take advantage of his position of power. He knew it was damnable to take a maiden to his bed and dishonor her— the gods will condemn him, but he could not find care. The moment he saw you in walls of your home, he knew he wanted you. Your indifference and defiance did not matter— you had been resisting him, denying him, but the prince will always find a way to get what he wanted. 

Your robe fell to the floor, leaving you in your shift, but the prince still nodded his head and motioned for you to take it off. The cover that your night dress provided pooled to the floor and left you completely exposed to the One-Eyed Prince. 

Aemond took in a sharp breath as his eye scanned the whole of your body. His cold, callused hands place themselves on your hips. Indulging himself with the feel of your soft skin that was riddled with gooseflesh at his touch. You took a sharp breath and you feel the prince nuzzle his face on your torso, his nose caressing your skin and taking a deep breath to savor your scent. Your stomach pitted as the prince finally stood, and your eyes locked. His hold was still on your waist as he guided you toward his bed. His hands trailing upwards as the back of your knees hit the soft fabric of his mattress. He guided you to sit, and you gazed up with his as his hand ghosted upon your bosom. His eye held trepidation but as you bit your lip in anticipation, the lilac of the prince’s gaze turned dark and he finally let his cold hand cup the flesh of your tit. Feeling your softness and ampleness and resisting the urge as the simple act of touching you already brought him pleasure. 

You swallowed thickly as your eyes gazed downward and saw the prominent bulge in the prince’s trousers as he continued to fondle your breasts. His finger pinching the sensitive bud, causing a jolt of pleasure to run through your body; pushing your luscious thighs together as you felt your sex grow with shameful need. You dismayed upon yourself— you should not feel pleasure by his touch. You should not enjoy his focused and wanting gaze. You must never relish at the fact of being a prince’s whore. But as a moan finally left your lips, you knew you could not abide by common sense and propriety.

Aemond smirked when he finally heard the pleasured moan escape your lips and as he saw the way your thighs pressed together. “Such a beauty you are… you have been tempting me since I’ve had arrived.” You frown at the prince’s words. “I—I had no intentions to do so my prince— believe me, it was unconsciously done,” You said and Aemond hummed and let his hand trail upwards to cup your warm cheek. “Unconscious or not… you have still tempted me.” He said. You palms growing cold as the prince sank on his knees so you two would be at eye level. “You have tempted your prince to sin and desire a maiden…” A chill ran through you as his thumb swiped across your plump lips. 

No reply was made as the prince captured you into a kiss. Finally, claiming the lips he had been dreaming of for moons. The prince snaking in his tongue and smirking at himself as he had correctly guessed that kissing you would feel like heaven. His hand took yours and guided it to the bulge that was angrily straining in his trousers. “Do you feel what you do to me, little flower? You had your prince desire you… to ache for you so, and you must be the one to relieve me of this torment.” The prince rasped against your lips. You closed your eyes and let out a moaned breath as his lips nuzzled into your neck, and his hand guided you to stroke his length faster. 

You gasped as the prince moved you to lie down. You raised your head to look at him with wide eyes as you were sprawled exposed in his bed, and he simply looked at you with desire and a smirk on his thin lips that were growing swollen by the minute. “So fucking pretty.” He said as he was still on his knees. His hands found your thighs and forced them to part. “My prince—“ You called as you were surprised that he’s subject himself to such actions. But your call was left on deaf ears as the prince was in a trance as your glistening cunt was presented before him. 

You let a small startled sound leave your throat as you feel Prince Aemond’s lips place a light kiss before your sex. The prince enjoying the way you tensed before him— the way you tasted before him. It took moments before you finally succumbed to the pleasure that you tried hard to deny— that you felt entirely guilty to feel. You were defiantly resisting to acknowledge how skilled the prince was. Lapping and sucking your cunt, his nose nuzzling against your pearl whilst his tongue darted in and out of your entrance making you cry out in sheer pleasure. 

“You were so quiet the days before… who knew I could make yo scream so loudly,” Aemond smirked as he gazed up at you whilst his fingers continued the torment on your nubbin. Admiring the way your back was arched and how your lips parted with the sound of the pleasure he gives. “Why have you resisted me for so long, little flower? Why have you denied us of such pleasure?” Aemond returned his lips to your cunt, palming himself as he tasted your essence; sweet and tart and entirely mouthwatering for him. Aemond groaned against your cunt as he felt your soft hands grab the roots of his hair, making him feel the pleasure you were lost in. 

“My prince— I—“ You mumbled as you were blinded and dazed, uncertain of what was to come. The teaching of your septa only enlightens you about the pleasure the man would feel in consummation, you were not aware that women would feel pleasure as well. “You will call me by my name when you come,” The Prince ordered and his hold on your thighs are tighter, his eye drew upward and watch you mindlessly nod as your enchanting eyes rolled back. 

“Aemond— Aemond!” You cried as a flick of his tongue had you peaking and writhing on his face. The prince only watched still as your cunt writhed against him, his skin scattering with gooseflesh at the way you called and cried his name. 

You were still dazed from your high when you noticed the prince pulling you sit once more. His lips that tasted of you against your own. His cold, callused hand around your neck whilst the other guided your hand back to his length once more. Lost in pleasure, you boldly slipped your hand in his trousers. Letting your skin finally touch him, a stifled groan left his lips. Aemond parted your lips to remove his tunic, your eyes following every movement he made while your hand were still in his trousers, striking his pulsating and large length. “Remove my trousers, little flower,” He ordered as your eyes where on his toned torso. Aemond watched in dark desire as you slowly nodded your head and removed your hand from his length. Your soft fingers brushing with the skin of his waist and your lip between your teeth. 

Your eyes widened when his length sprang free. Gods, he was beautiful. You never thought that you would find something so phallic to be so… appealing. Your hand gripped the base of it once more and your eyes locked with the prince who watched you expectantly. “Put it in your mouth,” The prince gritted. You froze at his order, uncertain how to do as he asked. Aemond took hold of your chin and his thumb pried your mouth to part. “Put it in.” He ordered, voice deeper and harsher. You licked your lips and took the tip of him into your mouth. Startled as the prince let out a groan leave his lips and his hips thrusting forward, urging you to take more of him. 

You didn’t realized that hearing the prince spew out moans and groaning your name would elicit such a reaction from you. That his sounds of pleasures made your core twist painfully yet pleasurably so; that your nipples would pebble and tighten uncomfortably yet you enjoyed it. You crossed your legs as you feel your essence drip down and your cunt wanting to feel the pleasure that a dragon prince could provide. 

You gasped as the prince removed his length that had been hitting the back of your throat. Aemond dipping down and placing his hand around your neck, kissing your lips, uncaring that it had been recently subjected to pleasure his cock. “I do not know if I liked you better defiant or obliging, little flower,” Aemond whispered against your lips and you crossed your legs tighter as his hold on your neck strained your breathing— oddly adding to your desires.Aemond pushed you to lie down once more, laying his wight on top of you, his length resting on your thigh and you could not decide if you felt fear or excitement. 

Fear that after this moment you will no longer be a maiden— that you’d be tarnished and be the Prince’s whore. Excitement that this moment would bring you pleasure— that you would have your desires tamed. 

Heavy breathing, whines, and groans mixed as the prince tore his way through you. Your legs wrapped around his waist and your nails digging on his shoulders. “Your highness, it’s too much— I can’t,” You cried as the pain did not wash away and pleasure was far from reach. “Aemond. You will call me Aemond.” The prince grunted as you clenched around his length. He watched as the tears spilled from your eyes and your breast heaved in pain. Was it so bad that he enjoyed the sight of it? That he relished at the idea that he was the one to take your maiden head. That in the eyes of men and the laws of the gods, you were now bound to him. 

Aemond was slow with his actions, waiting for you to grow accustomed to him. Waiting for you to bless his ears with your pleasure moans once more. The prince dipped his head down and captured your tit into his mouth whilst his finger drew circles on your cunt. It was entirely difficult for the prince to hold back— with the way you clenched around him and the way your hand would grip his hair every time he dared to move… he could’ve come right then and there— filling you with his seed and ruining you to another degree. 

But he could do no such thing— not yet at least. He needed to feel how your cunt would tighten around him as you came. He needed to hear the way you would scream his name as he filled you with his seed. He needed to feel you in pleasure more than he needed himself to feel pleasure. 

“A-Aemond,” You called when finally the excruciating pain faded away and was replaced by the pleasure you felt moments ago. “Oh…” You sighed as his length was met with a spot in you that made your toes curl, and your eyes roll back. Never had you felt so full— so oddly complete. The prince tucked his head in the crook of your neck and would nip your salted skin that glistened with a thin layer of sweat. “You’re mine, little flower,” Aemond grunted as his thrust grew deeper and your moans louder. “Say that you are mine.” Aemond removed his head from the crook of your neck to look at the state of you. 

Your tits bouncing with each of his thrust. Your eyes rolled back, and your hands fisted the sheets. Your lips parted and spewing his name in satisfaction. Aemond placed his hands around your neck once more, delighting in the way that your cunt clenched tighter around him. Surprised and thankful that you’d enjoyed roughness, for that was the only thing the prince had ever known. “Say it.” He spat and you cried as his thrusts were harder deeper. “I’m… I’m yours!” You cried and took hold of his hand that was around your throat, urging him to grip tighter as you were nearing your peak. “Fucking hell,” The prince said harshly as he realized you wanted him to grip you tighter when his cock could barely move by the way you clamped around him. 

“So fucking perfect,” The prince praised and shifted his weight for your lips to meet. “Come for me, my flower… come for your prince,” Aemond cooed against your lips, and you were quick to obey as you finally let your tightened core loose. The prince was quick to follow you in pleasure, him grunting your name as he filled your cunt with his seed. Uncaring of the possibility that he’d create a bastard for himself. “I should have claimed my spoils of war sooner,” The prince mumbled and kissed you again. Your brain battling with your body as you could not find care that he’d call you his spoils of war— that you were reduced to his prize.

If you enjoyed the premise of this story, you might like the inspiration for it!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Double Date

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: you and Bucky go on a double date.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You come up to the restaurant, shivering as the cold permeates your wool coat. The nights are chilly, meanwhile the days can’t seem to mellow between sweltering and gloomy. You clack in your thick-heeled boots as Bucky drags his feet beside you. 

“This is the place?” He asks. “Thought you’d cash in on your work discount.” 

“Don’t start,” you warn him and check your phone. 

“Did they cancel? Can I go home?” Bucky asks. 

You hush him as you read the message. Charlize says she’s inside and your date-- 

“Hey, Bucky, look at you,” Sam’s voice cuts through the air. “Like a prize poodle, all washed and brushed.” 

Bucky sighs, “what the hell are you doing here?” He sneers. 

“I never say no to a free meal. It’s date night,” Sam chortles as he fixes his tie.  

“Date?” Bucky scowls and turns to you, “him? You asked him? How did you even--” 

“Well, Bucky, I’m a great tipper. After you took to that restaurant, I made sure my gratuity was received,” Sam chirps. “I knew you were too friendly with the waitress. I knew it. I know you.” 

“Whatever,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “You really had to do this to me?” He turns on you. “He gets to witness this mess?” 

“Mess? The night’s not even begun,” you argue. 

“That’s right, Buckaroo. Take a little advice from your friend. I have to admit, I was pretty surprised to hear you even had friends. Well, outside of yours truly.” 

“Come on,” Bucky grumbles and spins on his heel, “let’s just get this over with.” 

He marches forward as you linger behind. Sam sends you a look and you shrug. You don’t get it. You’re just trying to do something nice and you thought having two friends would help bolster Bucky’s courage. 

You follow and as you enter, the hostess only seems to add to Bucky’s chagrin. He reluctantly hands over his jacket as you do the same. You wait for the hostess to take them to the coatroom and feel a gentle nudge. 

“Hey, you look nice. It’s a cute dress,” Sam says. 

You smile at him, “thanks, Bucky didn’t seem to think so.” 

“I didn’t say it was ugly,” Bucky snips. 

“Trust me, it’s not what you say, Buck, it’s how you say it.” Sam scoffs. 

“Did you just come to be a pain in my ass?” Bucky snarls. 

“Woah, come on. It’s gonna be a fun night,” you insist. “Please. Charlize is waiting for us.” 

He sighs and shakes his head, “fine.” 

The hostess reappears and shows you into the dining room. You’re taken to a table where Charlize waits. She’s even more gorgeous in the halter dress in a beautiful indigo velvet. She stands to give you a hug and you turn to introduce everyone. 

“Bucky, this is Charlize, and this is Sam,” you gesture between everybody. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Charlize says in her smoky voice. It’s sultry even without trying. If you were a bit older, you might just swoon. 

You sit and a server comes to take your drink orders. Your nerves are buzzing as you sit beside Charlize. Bucky’s just next to Sam and you all settle in. You look around and clear your throat. 

“So, Charlize, uh, Bucky has a motorcycle too. It’s really cool. Vintage, right?” You prompt Bucky as a thick strand of his hair falls forward. 

“Uh, yeah. Nothing special,” he answers curtly. 

Your furrow your brow, “well, uh, Charlize rides motorcycles too. She even races.” 

“Oh, I used to race,” Charlize says. “I’ve aged out unfortunately. But I like to get out of town, find a nice back road...” 

“Right,” Bucky nods, staring at his fingertips as he taps them on the table top. 

“Not me, I hate motorcycles,” you announce. 

“Hm, yeah,” Bucky snorts, “she won’t even sit on it when it’s parked. Convinced she’s going to fly off like a cartoon.” 

“You never know,” you retort. “Um, er,” you squirm and realise the conversation is bouncing back at you. “Sam, do you ride?” 

“Nah, I got the wings. Much more fun. Maybe you can come for a ride one day. Not as loud and doesn’t smell like gas,” he winks. 

“Oh, she doesn’t do heights,” Bucky clucks. “Put some ear plugs in if you do.” 

You pause as the server brings the drinks. You thank him with a beaming smile. From one service worker to another. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “Charlize,” you turn to the elegant woman, “um, you’re from New York, right? So is Bucky.” 

“I am. Harlem,” she answers. “I live in Manhattan now but I do some pro bono work back home. So, Bucky, you’re from Brooklyn? I’ve done some cases there as well.” 

“I’m from Indiana,” Bucky says dully. “But yeah, we moved to Brooklyn. A hundred years ago.” 

You don’t like his tone. Why isn’t he gushing over Charlize? She’s amazing. She’s everything you want to be in twenty years. 

“So you’ve both been here a while,” you say. “And you both work in law...” 

“Doesn’t matter how long Dreamy’s been here, she’ll always find a way to get lost,” he snickers. “Isn’t that right?” 

“Er, uh, maybe, but Charlize...” 

“Bucky’s a hell of a guy,” Sam intones and you shoot him a thankful smile. “Always gets the job done. We were down in Harlem just the other week. You must’ve heard.” 

“I recall. I was at the press conference,” Charlize says. 

“Just work,” Bucky mutters. 

“Well, what do you do in your spare time?” Charlize prompts gently. 

“Not much. Usually just hang out. Oh, we went to a going out of business sale for a bookstore. Found a copy of Grapes of Wrath I’m pretty sure was in my high school library. Oh, but then Dreamy ripped a page in a Dickens early edition.” 

“It was an accident,” you squeak. 

“Always an accident,” he chortles. “That’s the thing about this one, always wandering into trouble.” 

“Explains how she met you,” Sam comments. In return he gets a sneer. 

“She’s a nice girl. She helped a lot down at the practice last summer. Did some volunteer work when he had to relocate.” Charlize explains. 

“She is nice. She took a chance on some old geezer like me. Puts up with me too.” 

“So do I,” Sam says. 

“Sounds like you’re really good friends,” Charlize sniffs. 

You glance over at her. She doesn’t look very happy. You peek around the table. Everyone is looking at you. Charlize looks stone sober and grim, Sam looks doubtful, and Bucky is cloudy-eyed. Why is he staring at you like that? 

“I gotta use the toilet,” you say abruptly and get up. 

You’re on fire. You don’t understand what’s going on. You’re doing double duty trying to juggle the table and Bucky seems to want to undermine everything you say. He won’t talk about himself and when he does, it’s a contradiction. And Sam is no help, he just keeps teasing him. 

You burst into the bathroom and look at your reflection. This was a mistake. You should’ve let Bucky do this by himself. He’s grown. You don’t want to ruin this for him. He deserves a woman like Charlize. 

You shake of your frustration and go back out. As you get to the table, you slow down. The seat beside yours is empty. Bucky sits with his arms crossed defiantly as Sam yammers at him. 

“Bro, you’re totally screwed,” Sam says. 

“Hey, did Charlize go to the restroom? I didn’t see her?” You ask. 

Sam turns and his eyebrows rise. He lets out an exasperated puff as Bucky lowers his chin and stares at the table. Why won’t he look at you? 

“Charlize left. She said sorry,” Sam explains at last. 

“She left? What happened?” You bluster. 

Sam looks at Bucky. He won’t look at you. 

“I don’t think they mesh,” Sam shrugs, “but hey, we can still enjoy dinner, right?” 

You purse your lips and take your seat. You watch Bucky as he twiddles his fingers next to his glass. You know it’s more than they’re saying but you’ve been so stressed about it all, you don’t even care what ruined it. It didn’t work out. All that effort for nothing. 

[floylia]

# MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾

10. Always worth your time 💌

If arrogance is a cloak, he wears it proudly

A golden smile with silver teeth approaches you. His ginger hair falls smoothly in elegant curls, draping near the white headphones over his neck. His red top contrasts the blue hues of his eyes, followed by an expensive car that pops out in the background.

He wasn’t lying when he said he was made with money.

“Heard you need a ride?” His teasing tone continues.

You grin, “I recall, saying no?”

He shrugs, before grabbing your bag from your shoulder, and walking to the passenger seat, holding the door open for you, “And I recall not responding, so where are we going?”

“Supposedly at my student’s house for a tutoring session, but her mother cancelled.”

He gasps sarcastically, “Then I get to have you all to myself today?”

“By whose words?”

“Mine.”

“It better be worth my time.”

He winks, “I’m always worth your time.”

—

If spontaneous is a person, you’ve met him.

“You broke the damn machine!” You whisper-yell to the ginger in front of you whose jaw almost reaches the floor as he looks from left to right, checking for prying eyes.

He sighs in disappointment while sliding the palm of his hand on the window of the claw machine, observing how the plush toy drops back to its friends, “I wanted the duck.”

“You can’t have everything in life.”

“Yes I can.”

You shake your head, “It won’t even scan your card. I think that’s a sign that we need to leave. Besides, these games are a scam.”

“99% of gamblers quit before they win,” He scans his arcade card once again. It’s like arguing with a brick wall. Miraculously, the once “broken” machine finally activates.

You raise a brow, “Embarrassing yourself again?”

He rolls up his sleeves, revealing his muscular arms before circling his right shoulder back and forth, “Watch.”

His gaze focuses on the yellow duck, carefully aligning the metal claw before squinting and pacing around the machine, looking through each window from every angle.

You pinch the bridge of your nose while trying to stifle a laughter.

Then, he presses the button.

Two pairs of eyes follow the claw machine descend, grabbing the toy. It feels like at any moment the metal grip will slip, but it doesn’t.

Because the duck drops in the prize hole.

Childe falls to his knees before thanking the gods above, whispering sweet nothings in the air repeatedly.

Strangers ranging from kids to teens pass by with knitted brows, deciphering the scene in front of them. It takes you courage not to walk away and pretend you never met the ginger.

Thankfully, he stands up and hands you the duck.

“Didn’t you want this?” You ask.

“I did. I wanted it for you.”

“Oh, I—“

“There’s a photo booth over there. We should take a picture,” He points to the silver booth across the arcade before slipping his fingers between your own and dragging you towards his desired destination.

He continues talking, but every word becomes a void. Your thoughts are frozen. Eyes trained on one thing: his soft hands holding yours as his thumb gently circle your skin while he remains unaware.

“Are you feeling well?” He tilts his head, scanning your face for signs of discomfort.

You don’t even notice you’re inside the booth, “Of course! Let’s start.”

He nods, “Alright, what pose should we do?

You scan the tiny space until you spot a box underneath the bench, “Wait! They have props.”

You snatch a Minnie Mouse headband, adjusting it on your head, while he leisurely grabs the Matching Mickey Mouse version.

“Does it have to be the mouse?”

You chuckle, “Scared to relive the past?”

“Shut up.”

The screen starts counting down as you adjust inside the camera’s frame. Childe follows suit before placing his right arm around your shoulder, featuring a genuine grin.

“We should do a couples pose.”

You elbow his stomach, “You wish.”

Four more pictures were taken until the booth starts printing each one in a row.

“Should we grab lunch?” You ask, realizing the time after opening your phone for the first time since arriving.

“Yeah…” He leads the both of you towards the exit. The photo strips on his hands as he scans them individually.

In the first picture you’re wearing the matching Mickey Mouse headpieces.

In the second frame, he makes a giant heart with his left arm, expecting you to finish it. Instead, you do a thumbs up, grinning at him while he smiles tenderly back.

In the third photo your backs are against one another while making gun poses like Mr. and Mrs. Smith. You’re wearing black glasses with a serious expression and he is laughing with messy hair covering one eye.

In the fourth picture, he’s on his knees once again—both hands up in the air as you strangle him on the neck.

In the last picture, he’s wearing a fox hat while you’re wearing a bunny head piece, referencing Jude Hopps and Nick Wilde. His right arm is resting on the top of your head, smirking as you pout, looking up at him.

“Is it that special?”

He hums, eyes still glued on the photos, admiring your beauty, “Very.”

If attraction is a season, now he knows why leaves fall in autumn.

NOTES:

i’m back lol i hope all of you are doing well 😍

i failed my calc test, my grade went from a 96 to an 88, i’m TWEAKING but it’s okay IM COOKED (the asian in me wasn’t working today bruh) i was born a writer not a mathematician. but i’ll bring it up trust

SYNOPSIS: There’s a line Childe knows he shouldn’t cross; A line built on years of friendship; A line that happens to cross you, his best friend’s younger sister, grieving her first love; A line where he plays savior, wears a halo, then feign ignorance, because love is a game for fools—and he happens to be the biggest idiot when it comes to love.

When a new stranger invades your life and an old poet writes back.

CHILDE x FEM!READER

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[a-certain-romance]

No One Knows

Characters/Ships: Yandere!Ruan Mei x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut written by a minor, Possessiveness, Fingering

For years, Ruan Mei has struggled with her ongoing research in the origins of life. Failed experiment after failed experiment. The emanator she created was only a short-lived example of all those years of hard work. Maybe it was too ambitious. And frankly, too large to manage. She needed something more stable, and tangible for long enough to be studied.

Through hours upon hours of trial and error, she finally succeeded in the creation of her most prized possession: you, her perfect little creation.

Her attempts at creating life were finally fulfilled with the help of that trailblazer from the Asteral Express. You were timid at first. Her modifications gave you the knowledge and ability to speak and read, but it took some time to warm up to her. Ruan Mei desperately wanted to study you immediately, but she’ll settle for simple observations until she gains your trust.

It was a slow process. If Ruan Mei has learned anything, it’s that she needs to learn how to show you affection. She spent more time with you when it didn’t involve her research. Although she’s been apathetic for some time, you’ve given her the courage to step out of her comfort zone. For the sake of this project of course.

Whatever she did worked. You eventually became as clingy as her past experiments. It’s only natural for you to adopt that same loving nature as the others have, but this time she’s enabled it a little more. She lets you be in the same room when she’s doing side projects and shares her knowledge of the biological and ecological aspects. She shares a lot of her pastries with you, and even makes the time to bake things with you. Sometimes when she’s spending a lot of time writing, she lets you lay your head on her lap for a while. She used to only see you as an influential accomplishment, but now she feels a sense of protective ownership over you.

She can’t keep you at the space station forever. Even though Herta doesn’t mind, she’s starting to get a little too curious about what Ruan Mei is keeping in that unoccupied level of the station.

And worst of all, her little creation is starting to wonder what’s behind those big steel doors that keep her locked in. And that just won’t do. She’s seen you giving those doors such longing looks, seen you tap and occasionally scratch the glass window. She makes a mental note to re-enforce the durability—‘just in case’. She knows she should observe your new behaviors a little closer, but she came to that conclusion a little too late the day she caught you stealing her card.

Were you…actually trying to escape? But why? She transformed this entire area just for you. Her past experiments have prepared her for what it takes to give something life; from food to sunlight to entertainment to company, what more can you possibly need?

“I’ll show you how much you need me.”

Her kisses are feather light at first. She pins you against the very door you intended on breaching. Even the pinning is gentle. You could probably struggle against her, but something tells you that she can easily overpower you with enough motivation.

Just as gently, her knee pressed right against your core. Her lips brush against your cheek, “Do you want more?” She asks sweetly. A little too sweetly. You shake your head, and she flips you around forcefully. In her breathy voice commands: “Hands against the door.”

Your palms shakily press against the surface. “Perfect,” she muses.

She strokes here hands all along your body, eventually settling on your waist. “Look at the way your body reacts to my touch. You’d miss this if you left me.” She kisses and nips your skin with satisfaction as her lips move down your neck.

“Only I can make you feel like this. I created you; I know your body like the back of my hand,” her thumb tugs at your waistband, causing your breath to hitch, “See? Spread your legs for me…yes, just like that, wider. That’s my girl.”

She rolls your pants down carefully to the floor, prompting you to kick them off. Your underwear follows soon after. She returns to her stance behind you. Her gloved hand finds its way to your entrance, and her middle finger is the first to push past your folds. “Be good for me.” She rasps, planting kisses around your shoulder blade.

Your slick coats her finger with every stroke. She retracts from you for just a moment to bite her soaked glove off with her teeth. She tosses it behind her before returning to your inviting warmth with an added finger. She sighs pleasurably, almost nothing is obstructing her skin from yours.

Her other hand forces you to look out the window as she scissors her fingers inside you. The glass is somewhat clouded from your panting, but you can make out the sight of how her green eyes bore into yours.

Her fingers curl and rub feverishly against your sweet spot. Your body shudders as you inch closer to your climax. “Let go,” she moans, “let go and cum for me.” Your slick spurts through her slender fingers as you climax.

As you come down, Ruan Mei whispers a few “good girl”s as she kisses your neck. Her arms wrap around your body possessively with no intention of letting go.

She’ll make arrangements for a more permanent residence to keep you close. No one knows of your existence, and she intends to keep it that way.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Vesuvia Weekly: How they like to steal a kiss

Julian -

Likes stealing kisses from you like he's the most moral pirate that ever existed. He already "steals" quite a few from you on a daily basis, in the form of little pecks on your cheek as a greeting or just because you did something endearing, but in his mind those don't count. Rather, he likes to twirl you around on the dance floor and dip you back until you're clinging to him for support, lean down into your space with a wicked smirk, and pause just long enough to see the happiness and safety in your eyes before he claims his prize.

Asra -

Likes stealing kisses from you the way they like "holding you hostage" for a snuggle session. For someone who uses such strong language, everything about his movements and intentions are gentle and respectful. They'll sidle up close to you behind the counter during a lull in the shop's business, gently wrap their arms around your middle, and slowly giggle and tease their way into hovering inches from your face. As soon as you ask him what he's up to, he's mumbling about "stealing a precious treasure" before he slowly closes the gap.

Nadia -

Likes to steal kisses from you as though they're a luxury only she has the reach to snatch. She'll wait until there's a moment between tasks to catch you in a corridor, take your chin lightly between her thumb and forefinger, and look at you from under lidded eyes like you're a work of art. Her proud little smirk and cocked eyebrow is all the warning you'll get before she backs you into a nearby tapestry with the intensity of her kiss, only giving you room to breathe as she wipes her lipstick from your mouth with her thumb and asks after your day.

Muriel -

Likes to steal kisses from you because it only requires ten seconds of courage max, while straight up asking you for one takes closer to two minutes. His version of "stealing" kisses is much more akin to giving them to you in ways he thinks you'll mind less. He'll press his fingertips to his lips, leaving a secret kiss on them, before he reaches out to move your hair out of your eyes brush and it against your forehead. Otherwise, the closest you'll get is when he holds your hand to wake you and kisses your inner wrist in a tender moment.

Portia -

Likes stealing kisses from you the way school kids pass notes to each other on the playground. She'll come sprinting by on her short break, snatch your wrist in her hand, and lead you through a veritable maze of back hallways and hidden corridors until you're both breathless and giggling. It's only once she's got you squished into a forgotten corner behind a dusty bookshelf that she'll brace her arms on either side of you, lean in with dancing eyes, and whisper "gotcha" before she tags you and calls you "it" with an abrupt, air-stealing kiss.

Lucio -

Likes stealing kisses from you simply because he can. He does enough law-abiding to satisfy a judge (which is more than he's ever done in his life) and he thinks he deserves a way to act out. He doesn't care if you're around other people or not, if you're standing relatively still and looking attractive enough (which is always) he's forgetting whatever he was trying to do and marching over to cup your face in his flesh-and-metal hands with the biggest puppy eyes. Just nod your head and you'll get the world's most excited kiss.

[doiliedaze]

Bloodlust: part two

Pitfighter! Vi x Stripper! Reader

Warnings: vi is starting to get her shit together so slow burn, reader is smitten even though she tries not to be, over protective vi, possessive reader, pouty reader, jealous reader, playing stupid games and getting stupid prizes

Genre: fluff, angst

1

───────┈ · ·

Vi and I have fell into a routine. She goes out and does what she does, picks me up from the club then we go back to my place. I know! This is extremely stupid but she’s just so? Now that I’m getting to know her I can’t stop.

I refuse to go back to that “home” of hers therefore we go to mine. Sure it’s shit but it’s organized and decorated. Plants here, fairy lights there, photos of friends and family! Vi picks on me for it, my “comfy ambiance” but I know she likes it.

“Doll c’mon we’re gonna be late!” Vi yells as she walks into my bathroom. “Y’know I can hear you? You don’t have to yell.”

“Your hard-headed so I have to make sure.” Her stupid smirk spreads on her face, it’s so kissable. “I’m almost done I just have to finish my makeup” I mumble.

Vi sits on the counter and stares at me. She always does this when I’m doing anything. She likes to follow me around and watch, which I don’t mind it’s just new? Especially when she asks questions! Like you care? That’s strange!

“What does this do?” She picks up my setting spray, “it sets my makeup so I don’t sweat it off but I have gone out without it and been fine unless I’m dancing.” She mutters that it smells good.

To tease her I say, “you think everything I own smells good.”

“They do! You just smell really good.”

Vi hops off the counter and steps in front of me causing me to pout. “Vi I can’t see the mirror.” I add a little whine wanting to get my way.

With a soft smile she softly wraps a hand around my neck and pulls me closer. “Can I kiss you please?” She whispers against my lips.

We’ve kissed before here and there but it always happens when we’re cuddling.

“You can-”

I couldn’t finish giving her permission before she presses her lips against mine. It was soft and slow but her grip tightened slightly. Her other hand moves to my toweled hip and pulls me close.

Even though we’re in a rather intimate position, I feel no intention behind her kiss. She makes my heart flutter and my head dizzy.

Eventually she pulls away and laughs, “get a new setting spray I got some of your concealer on me” she laughs as she moves to wipe her face.

“That’s what happens when you kiss me when I have my base wet still.” She tilts her head in confusion and I just kiss her cheek and continue what I was doing.

The plan is going out to eat and not starting shit. There’s been a pattern of whenever we go out one of us gets into something and I don’t want to bite off another nail set!

Vi always walks behind me. I tell her she doesn’t have to, that she can be beside me but she just glares.

“Good thing you don’t have laser eyes!” I try to joke but there’s just moments when her hard exterior pops out. I clear my throat and keep waking until I feel her pull on my hand so she can hold it. Silent reassurance it can be comforting but it can be dismissing as well.

When we’re out and eating she’s quiet, always on the look out.

I tap my foot against hers, “Vi…you can relax.”

“I am” She mutters as she eats, “it’s easier to focus on something, if not then I’ll want to drink but I don’t want to anymore.” I perk up at that.

We had one conversation about her drinking habits and we got into a yelling match over it. So I leave it alone. “I’m proud of you, that takes a lot of courage.” I can tell she’s trying to hide her lopsided grin but it comes out anyway.

I move my hand over to rub hers. “Thank you wisp.” She says the end mockingly. “It’s y/n” I say as I clear my throat and drink my water.

Her hand grips mine a bit harder, “you must really like me huh?”

“Shut up Violet” I look away feeling my body tingle.

The rest of the evening we chatted about things we don’t talk about; our dreams. I want to be a doctor well as much as you can be down here. She’s not quite sure but I think she could do anything maybe take back The Last Drop. Run it herself, shit I’ll help her if I have to.

When we get back to my place I show her all the books I stole from Piltover so I can further my education.

Excited to hear me read she pushed me on the bed and laid on me, her feet dangling off the bed. I read about neurology as she falls asleep.

I could get use to her living with me, I mean She basically does. I just hate having to separate at night. I hate when I clean her up after her fights. I hate I can’t go there and see her either, it’s one of the only rules she has but I worry.

I’ve expressed this to my homegirls and their bright idea was to go see her fight anyway! I know you don’t have to be influenced by your friends blah blah blah but when Roulette said she could be keeping another bitch from me I got a bit…anxious to say the least.

So we go to the arena and I’m not even sure why she’s take another girl here. Jealousy is such a dumb emotion but she mentioned an ex before and I just…I don’t want to be replaced. Too many times in my life have I been an option. That’s all I could focus on, being picked.

“I need therapy” I mutter, “no you need to find out why you can’t be here, we’ve all seen violence so why can’t you be here?” Roulette says as she sucks her teeth.

I know I’m just letting her gas me up and I should respect Vi’s boundaries but I just can’t it’s as simple as that I’m not ready to just trust her blindly.

We get seats and red tickets to resemble that we’re rooting for Vi. She’s fighting these extreme looking people round after round and she’s prevailing. The more I watch the more my stomach turns, I feel like I shouldn’t be here that I should leave.

Doesn’t matter…as she celebrates her last win of the night her eyes fall on mine. Her usual soft gaze replaced by a hardened stare.

She just walks off and I know I need to get down there. As I’m speed walking down she meets me halfway and crosses her arms. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“I was curious…” I say looking down till she grabbed my chin and made ms look up. Her grip wasn’t harsh at all, “you are going to look at me and don’t lie to me!” She raises her voice but it’s pointless. It’s so loud in here.

I look back at my girls and they urge me on and Vi scoffs, “you’re letting them influence your dumbass decisions?”

“What do you mean by them because those girls are my friends, they want to protect me!”

“Friends stop you from being insecure they don’t encourage the shit!” She yells getting closer to me.

I scoff, “why can’t I be here?”

“Why would I bring you here? Why would I want you to see me like this?”

“I see you through everything else I don’t get why I can’t see you! You come to the club and I don’t want you there!” She gives me a look like a dumbass, “that’s different you need me at the club, so someone is actually looking out for you! What are you gonna do for me here mhm?”

I suck my teeth and I move my face from her hold. “And this whole I have a girl here because I know that’s what they told you is stupid! Worse part is you know that’s stupid! You can be so fucking naive-”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” She laughs, “don’t give me that pouty victim shit, you were dead wrong for coming here wisp I gave you one boundary and you couldn’t listen!”

All the words in my throat die when she calls me wisp. She’s right, I was being jealous and immature…I couldn’t help it though all of this was going too good.

She can see how my eyes fell and she sighs, “c’mere.”

Vi wraps her arms around me and walks me out. We walk to my house in silence.

When we get in she let’s go of me but I can’t let her go, I feel so pathetic and small. I’ve never had the consistent company of anyone else. There’s so many things I’ve said and done around her I never thought I’d do with someone. I threw it all away over bullshit.

I rest my head in her neck, “‘m so sorry, that was so stupid I should’ve just trusted you but I couldn’t.” My voice muddles as I start to sniff, she takes my face into her hands. “It’s okay, I mean this whole thing started cause I didn’t listen to you yeah? It was just your turn to be the insecure dumbass.” She snorts and I pout.

“But I don’t wanna make you upset.” She pulls me close, pressing her forehead against mine. “You’ll make me upset, and I’ll upset you that’s love baby.”

Fuck me, is this love? I mean what else would it be? Do I say it back? Technically she didn’t say it like I love you but she called it love-

My thoughts get interrupted when she kisses my forehead, “earth to y/n, just said this is love and you space on me.” She says tryna laugh but I see the anxiety in her body.

“Sorry, what am I supposed to say?” She let’s out a boisterous laugh and shakes her head, “just acknowledge it I guess I’m not sure last time I…you can just say how you feel.”

I take a deep breath and say, “I love you. I love you so much that I can’t stand a second we’re not together. I love you so much that I want you to live with me. I love you so much that I want to better myself and not just for you but more-so for me because of your love?”

My eyes search hers as she lets my words seep in. “You want to live with me?” Her voice trembles, “but I’m…and you, are you sure?”

“Vi just say yes.” She nods as she pulls me into another hug. I hold onto her, jumping up to wrap my legs around her. I kiss all over her face and I wipe her tears.

“We’re family now.”

───────┈ · ·

A/N: one more part!! I had high hopes for this story but after I write part one I was okay with it cause I never worked with these themes before but I’m starting to like it after this one and I’m excited to write part three!! I have to practice writing jealousy cause I think it was kinda stale and fast paced but I had no idea how to push it? Hope you all enjoyed!!

Taglist: @manfuckthisimout @bambishaven @femme-historian @furrytaesss

Dividers: @dollywons