#that being said i am managing the heat better than most

[love-fireflysong]

You know what that means! Another Wednesday, another Work In Progress to share with you all. But before all that, I gotta confession to get off my chest. You all remember that promise back at the end of June where I said that I was gonna be spending a couple of hours every morning after work sitting by the river writing? Yeah I sorta haven't been doing that the past couple of weeks ever since my vacation ended 😅 Though in my defense, that's almost entirely NOT because of laziness but because there's been a heatwave going on so the average temp has been like between 30° and 35°C every day. Which is fucking HOT up here btw, so I decided it was probably best for my health to not go outside if I could help it lmao. So to compromise I've instead been writing by sitting on my balcony at night when its cooled down considerably. Though while that sadly does mean I'm only able to do it twice a week on my days off, I've always found that I tend to find it easier to write late at night anyways. To the point that I think even though I only write for at most a couple of hours, during those two nights alone I've probably been doing about at much as I would during those morning periods combined. So I'm making it work lol.

Anyways enough about me complaining about heat while simultaneously patting myself of the back, here's another little snippet from One Coat, Two Coat, Red Coat, Blue Coat!

With a sigh that is both entirely too fond and dejected (despite how much Ashley dislikes Josh's tastes in movies she does still bitterly wish that she also got to enjoy their sleepover shenanigans far more than she was actually allowed), Ashley nevertheless puts her phone back in it's place of honor on her table and goes back to cleaning. But not before making sure to shove Chris's hoodie into her backpack so she wouldn't forget to bring it to school on Monday. After removing the rest of her schoolbooks and binders of course. She still has that history report that's due the coming Friday (hence the actual need for the library visit tomorrow) as well as the two pages of algebra homework for Monday morning. Plus that short story for English that she was only able to write maybe two paragraphs of before the guys had found that board game in closet. …Just because the three of them were supposed to be doing homework for the past couple of hours didn't necessarily mean a whole lot of it ever got done.

[r4izx]

the next page

scaramouche x gn!reader

summary: you start seeing less and less of your lover and more and more of him with someone else.

- 2,522 words and 13,694 characters.

- slight cursing

a/n: sorry for not updating for so long •́ ‿ ,•̀ exams just ended. have this and not a part 2 of my last fic LOL.

9 days, 14 hours, 58 minutes and 2 seconds.

you don't know how you managed to keep track of the time but that's how long since you've seen your boyfriend in the day. if it wasn't for your shared apartment, you might've not even catch a glimpse of him at all.

these days, scaramouche has been coming home late and going out a lot. it's the reason why you've been staying up late night, waiting at the dinner table until he comes home for the dinner you prepared. but everytime he comes home it's already 2 am and the food has gone cold. you even offer to heat it up for him but he's either not hungry, already ate, or tired. but not too tired to go out with his friends it seems. and although you said friends, you're referring to a particular girl he's been spending more time with than anyone else. more time than with you. it didn't take long for you to find out why he's been ditching you. but it has been so long since you knew the reason yet you've done nothing about it.

you still wait at the kitchen table for who knows how long. but you always end up falling asleep, not noticing when he comes home. and the next day when you wake up, he's gone. that's basically your everyday routine. all you do is stay holed up in your shared apartment all alone. you didn't have much friends compared to him since you chose to hang out with him most of the time.

10 days, 2 hours, 4 minutes and 31 seconds.

it's late at night when scaramouche just entered the apartment. fortunately, you woke up almost immediately after hearing the door unlock. you fell asleep on the table, once again. and before scaramouche could even enter his bedroom, you called out his name.

"wait! scara..!" you still feel groggy from just waking up but you couldn't miss this chance. the chance to confront him. he stops in his tracks and slowly turns his head into your direction.

"what? be quick, i'm tired." scara replies. he was never the warm type of person, but he was also never this cold. you've never heard him speak in a tone like this. cold as ice. hearing him speak like that made you hesitate and even more nervous than you already were.

you nervously speak up,

"w-well, you know these days i've been thinking... you might be spending too much time with your friends and a girl i've been seeing you with. because we've barely hung out together compared to you and your friends." you finally confront of him. hoping he would understand how you feel, just like how you understand that he can have other friends as well.

"because of that, it's been really... lonely. I really don't wanna sound dramatic but maybe we could-"

"you are though." you internally flinch. before you could even finish what you were gonna say, scaramouche interrupted you. "you're being so dramatic y/n! can't i hang out with my friends?! you think you're the only one i have?! archons, there's so many people out there better than you! you're being so possesive."

you? possesive? is he being for real? are you wrong for wanting to spend time with your lover? his words keep echoing in your mind. 'dramatic, better than you, possesive.' you wanted to fight back and defend yourself. but, you wouldn't. you couldn't. you knew that he has other people to rely on too but who knew it would hurt this much when it's being said to you directly. what you didn't know is that he would choose to rely on them over you. now you look like a blind fool, who only saw the truth right now. the truth to his feelings. 'is that how he thinks of me?' you were stunned. too hurt to speak. but you snapped out of your daze once you felt something wet rolling down your face. a tear. you were, crying. crying for a guy who you knew you don't deserve. but you couldn't help it. all you could do now is wipe your tears.

"s-scara no- i'm sorry," what for? why do you need to apologize? "how about i join you with your friends instead? that way we both cou-"

"pfft." scaramouche tried holding his laughter. keyword: tried. he fails. bursting into a fit of laughter. "you? join us? tsk. don't make a joke like that, seriously... i don't need anybody to embarrass me infront of my friends. i told you, i'm too tired for this shit." and just like that, scara entered his room. leaving you all alone at the kitchen table, once again. you covered your mouth, hoping he wouldn't hear your muffled whimpers as you try to not to burst into tears. rushing to your own bedroom just after scara went to his.

you couldn't hold it in anymore. you broke down, tears streaming down from your eyes, too fast to wipe. you couldn't stop crying when you remember the things he had just said. but that wasn't the main reason as to why you were breaking down. sure, the hurtful words were a part of it but it was mostly because of the fact that, ...you know your worth. and you're worth more than this, and you deserve better. but you can't bring yourself to just... let go of him. you hate it that you wouldn't move on. that you couldn't move on.

8 days, 16 hours, 18 minutes and 20 seconds since that incident.

ever since that day you and scara has distanced even further. only seeing each other at night. barely. you told him how you felt and you didn't expect an outcome like this. you figured that you should treat yourself to something nice. you decide to go to the arcade. it was an arcade where you and scara would sometimes go to after class. it wasn't the best place to take a break at, considering you still think of him here, but atleast you were able to relax a bit. surprisingly, you managed to win something at the claw machine! it cheered you up when you remember the amount of times you spent money on rigged claw machines and end up getting nothing. maybe you should go to the arcade more. specifically on bad days. ironically, you're luckier on days where you feel like the unluckiest person ever.

just as you were about to get the prize you won, you saw something, no- scratch that, someone, out of the corner of your eye. someone you really didn't want to see. but still, you looked. your gaze lingered on him. you couldn't help but stare at scaramouche. your lover was right there. right there with another girl. is he cheating? is he leaving me? replacing me? you start overthinking, especially when you remember your last interaction with him. green hair, olive eyes. she's pretty too... maybe scara was right. maybe you were possesive... because right now you're feeling a lot of things. anger? sadness? jealousy? whatever it is --it doesn't feel good. while you were out here feeling like shit, scaramouche right now had the biggest smile on his face. with someone else, he looked so... happy. the smile on his face however, wasn't new to you. seeing it made you reminisce about the past. when you both were still happy together.

"scara! h-hey!-"

you both were walking at the side walk on the way home from school. it felt as if it was just yesterday when this happened. scara was teasing you, smudging ice cream on your face after you both bought some.

"ah- stop it!!"

scara didn't stop, he started laughing. he burst into laughter. and instead of being mad at him for teasing you again, you felt oddly comforted. was it because of his smile? seeing him so happy with you? whatever the reason was, you're just glad he's happy. and so you couldn't help but laugh along with him.

and right now, you're seeing the same memory again. but it's him,

...with someone else.

he's laughing with someone else. doing the same teasing to someone else. being so happy, with someone else.

it hurts.

and it hurts even more when you see that you won matching keychains. there's a pang on your chest and you can't explain the feeling. all you know is that you get this feeling when you see him being okay without you. while you're here suffering without him. it's unfair. you know your worth, and you deserve better. maybe... you should really move on.

so you've promised yourself, --you won't chat him, call him, prepare food for him, wait for him to get home. to think you would change yourself this much because of scara when he wouldn't change a single thing for you. but, it's for the better. now you're both avoiding each other.

15 days, 16 hours, 59 minutes and 58 seconds.

you managed to not interact with him as much for this long. things were awkward for the both of you, keeping replies short with each other. you think if other people saw you both they wouldn't even suspect the idea that you both are lovers. but hey, you kept your promise intact. fortunately, you haven't seen him at all for the past few days, not even a glimpse of him- ...yet.

as you were walking back home, you passed by you and scara's old spot. it was yours and scara's usual spot. it was somewhere near your shared apartment with him, an overlooking hill, where you could see the whole city. it was a place you both went to for a breath of fresh air. some memories quickly popped into your mind but you didn't wanna remember anything about it. not anymore. but it was only now that you noticed two figures on the spot. one was... from the silhouette you could already tell it was scara, but you still took a better look to confirm it and just as you suspected, it was him. now, the other figure was... the same girl again.

you're starting to hate the color green because of seeing her too much with him, although, you do feel slightly guilty 'cause you haven't even spoken to her once yet you feel like this. but still, you hate the color purple even more. it was the color of his hair, his eyes, and you were pretty sure it was his favorite color seeing how much his room is filled with it. because of him... you're hating a lot of things, including the fact that he looked so majestic right now. the wind blowing down on his face, his hair flowing with the air, his face leaning closer and closer to the girl's lips,...

as they kissed.

you watched as scara and the girl's lips touched each other's. it's a bit embarrassing to say but scara has never kissed you on the lips. was he saving it for a special moment like this? the atmosphere for them must have felt romantic. but right now, you feel like it's getting hard to breathe, the air around you is heavy, and your vision is getting blurry. ever since scara and you had distanced, you already knew at some point something like this would occur. but it still hurts. so much.

the dam broke.

tears started flooding down from your eyes. you cover your mouth, hoping the two of them wouldn't hear your sobs. your gaze fell downward. you couldn't bear to look at him again, it'll just break you even more. it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. and you start to think that maybe scara has never even loved you from the very beginning. maybe he was always more than friends with that girl. always ditching you for her, being this intimate with her, and at your personal spot with him too. looking back to your most precious moments with him, you really are a blind fool. you thought you were special. when in reality, he'd replace you the moment you do something he doesn't like.

and so, you break your promise. you take your phone out from your pocket. scrolling for a long while through your contacts. it was only now that you realize how long you actually didn't chat him. you finally find his name. 'scara♡'. you quickly cleared his nickname and started typing. even though your eyes were growing blurry from tears, you still tried to finish typing. albeit, with difficulty, you click send.

"scaramluche, we shoudl bresk up."

you didn't care if it had so much typos, you just wanted to get it over with. you tried staying loyal to him, for a long time. despite all of his complaints and how hard it was to breathe around him, you still endured. but a person could only take too much until they break.

you waited for a few minutes until the two of them finally left your spot. it was where you always went to when you needed a breathe of fresh air, so you went and sat there. watching the city lights, gazing at the sky, breathing this fresh air. this is what you need. no matter how many times you come to this place, the scenery always takes your breathe away. even though scaramouche was just here awhile ago, you couldn't even think about him right now. you wouldn't.

and for the first time in a while, you felt... relaxed. you felt calm. the air around you finally felt light, it was easier to breathe. now it's just you and yourself again. you were used to being alone in the confinements of your shared apartment, but this... feels different. you are alone, but you felt free. you aren't chained down to bothersome worries and doubts anymore.

going back to your shared apartment that day was difficult for you. but from then on, you knew things were gonna get better, so you held on. scaramouche didn't even bat an eye to the boxes lying around on your room. he didn't even care about the fact that your closet was getting emptier and emptier through the days. but that's good. because just like how he neglects you, you won't let yourself be bothered by him anymore.

and alas, the day comes where you finally move out. you went far enough to even ask the landlord if you could move in early. this is the beginning of your life without any problems. without any of him. scaramouche is blocked on all of your socials, he wouldn't know a thing about your whereabouts even if he tried to look for you. because you know a lot of things about him when he doesn't even know where you work.

you finished setting up your bed at your new apartment. you hastily scrambled onto the bed, lying down on your back. your whole body instantly felt relaxed and the only thing you could think about is that you don't regret doing this. you think that maybe this was really what you needed. a break from him, being freed from doubts and worries. you truly did the right choice of moving out, and...

33 days, 21 hours, 5 minutes and 10 seconds.

...moving on.

[w4dows]

thinkin' about jealous! natasha

natasha romanoff x fem! reader

natasha romanoff was either the most infuriating or oblivious person in the world.

you guys weren't official, by any means; hell, you guys hadn't even kissed. but it was common knowledge that you were natasha's, as she was yours.

the standoff-ish redhead had a soft spot for you & you only, and you took pride in that.

which is why when the redhead saw you getting flirted with during one of tony stark's parties, no less by some stupid agent that she trained, she was pissed - well "minorly ticked off."

she couldn't help but glower as she watched you take a seat at the bar, watching them flirt with you - or try to. she glared as they tried to woo you their rank and big muscles - "that really weren't that big," she thought bitterly, her jaw clenched, and her grip on her whiskey glass tightening. natasha smirked at the knowledge that her muscles were definitely bigger, and that she could definitely put on a better show than some low-ranking agent, especially for you.

her grip on her whiskey glass impossibly tightens, the auburn-gold liquor swishing around as she sees you laugh at a joke that idiot made; she was sure she could make you laugh much harder. so she does.

she walks over to the bar, downing the rest of her liquor, leaning over the bar, her body brushing against yours as she orders a refill, and you tense, the only thing you can focus on is her toned body against yours.

"oh hey sweetheart," she drawls, the nickname slipping off her tongue easily as she death-glares the agent - who very quickly gets the memo and slinks away.

"hey nat! this is-," you turn back to the other agent, and you see them sulking in the corner. you look back at natasha, and you can see a hint of smugness in her eyes - her stupid, beautiful, green eyes, and suddenly it all makes sense; natasha was jealous.

"you jealous?" you teased, unable to hide the grin at the thought of stone-cold natasha being jealous, being jealous over you

"oh please," she huffs before continuing, "why would i be jealous?"

"aw nat! you're so jealous!" you can't help but tease the aloof assassin, enjoying the way her face grimaces.

"i am not jealous." she mutters, scowling.

"for a spy, you sure are horrible at lying," you tease, your eyes sparkling with amusement, and affection that was purely for natsha. "y'know i'm yours right?" you murmur, cocking your head slight and enjoying the light pink that covered her cheeks and the tips of her ears.

"say it again," she rasps, and suddenly you can't remember how to form a coherent sentence, ridiculously aware of how close your lips are to hers - so close that you could feel the heat of her breath mingling with yours. your eyes flit down to her lips - her plump, perfect lips, tinged with faded lipstick - you couldn't help but wonder how soft they'd be against yours.

"i said, say it again, sweetheart," she all but purrs, and you're sure she can hear the thump-thump of your heart as you gulp. you bravely flick your eyes up towards her bewitching green eyes, and suddenly you've lost your breath again. you can see a glint of amusement in her eyes as she roams her eyes over your face.

"said 'm yours natasha, all yours," you manage to get out, and you can see the way her lips quirk up. fuck it.

before she can open her mouth to make a witty quip, you press your lips onto hers.

they were somehow softer than you thought they'd be.

--

bonus:

"i still can't believe you were jealous," you murmur, breathless from natasha's kisses, your lips slightly swollen and bruised.

"oh yeah?" she husks, and god do you love her voice

her lips latch onto your neck before she continues, "want me to show you just how jealous i can be, sweet thing?" 

[arabellasleopardcoat]

You wouldn’t believe the things I have done for her (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon lives a dangerous life. You wish you could find a way to protect him, but you are too afraid of guns. Lucky you, Daemon has a plan.

A/N: Do not try this at home. Requested by the lovely @avalyaaa I am sorry it took me so long, but I wanted to give your request the attention it deserved.

Warnings: Smut. Mafia! Daemon. Gun kink. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH: GUN KINK. Slight degradation.

You sit quietly in the back of the car. In the front seat sits Harwin, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He is bored. You can tell by the way he keeps fiddling with things. Changing the radio station, messing with the AC.

Harwin probably misses his old work. It’s not like Daemon needs a bodyguard or a driver. You know it’s more for your protection than his. And while Harwin is no stranger to guarding people who don’t need his protection, you bet the fact that Rhaenyra was fucking him made the prospect much more agreeable.

The AC gets turned off again. You would scold him for it, were it not for the fact you are deadly bored yourself. Daemon’s quick meeting has turned into an hour long one, and you have been instructed to not step out of the car. The only entertainment you have is your phone, and you can only scroll through so many TikToks before wanting to claw your own eyes out.

Instead of continuing to refresh your For you page, you turn your attention back to obsessing over your conversation with Daemon. The shame from your stupidity makes your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t trust them.” Daemon had said, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He often avoided kissing you in the lips whenever you were close to his associates. As if not kissing you could trick them into thinking you were not relevant and convince them not to target you. “They are…. Not the most respectful with women.”

“You don’t trust me, you mean. To handle myself.” And by the Seven, it had even sounded bratty to your ears. You had not meant it like that at all. You had only wanted him to stop using that shitty excuse.

There were women who attended these meetings. You knew it. Hell, you had even met them. And these weren’t sex workers or strippers. These were women who held high positions in the organization. Rhaenyra, who was going to inherit it one day. Mysaria, who ran an informant network. Even Alicent pitched in from time to time. You were tired of being lied to. Sometimes, you craved the more normal boyfriend experience.

“I trust you. I don’t trust them.” Daemon had chuckled at your pout, and given you a pat in the head. “Behave.”

It had felt so dismissive. So humiliating. As if you were a child and not an actual grown woman. You hated arguing with Daemon. There was something about his tone, or his attitude, you were not sure which, that made him sound forever condescending.

You supposed inherited wealth was like that. The Targaryens had been running their schemes for nearly six generations by now. They were royalty by modern standards, even when you didn’t know about their more shady dealings.

It was no use, being upset over it. Daemon was too set in his ways to change. You needed to find a way around your problem, instead of charging right into it. But nothing comes to you at this moment, so you unlock your phone and continue your scrolling.

You save a few recipes you want to try, and like some pet videos. You are thinking of asking Daemon to adopt a puppy. A small breed would suit your apartment better, but you know Daemon. He will probably want the most intimidating dog he can get his hands on. A big, scary doberman could be something you could get behind. You had been feeling unsafe as of late.

A sudden, loud noise makes you jerk on your seat. You start to ask Harwin what’s wrong, but you don’t manage to even form the words. It's happening too fast.

“Get on your knees and do not get up until I say!” Harwin shouts. You do not need further explanations, understanding something is really wrong. You fall into the floor of the car with such haste that your phone is sent flying under the seat.

“…. Whisk the butter and the sugar…” You try to reach for it, but the space is too cramped, and suddenly the car is moving, throwing the phone around. Your knees throb from dropping yourself from the seat too hard, and you try to focus on that and not the way your heart feels like it’s in your throat. A gunshot, you realize. A gunshot. You should be used to them by now, but you still feel afraid.

Harwin drives fast and efficiently. It’s two full blocks before he orders you to get up again. You do so, legs shaking. There is a wet feeling on your knee. Blood. You had scrapped it when you threw yourself on the ground.

“What happened?” You ask him, smoothing your clothes down. Now that your panic isn’t as intense, you feel a pang of guilt. Daemon. Seven Hells, you had left him back there. “Daemon?”

Despite knowing that Harwin’s orders are first and foremost getting you out of danger, you can’t help but feel guilty. You had not even thought to worry about him. He is probably fine, considering the place was filled with Targaryens. He is also more than capable of handling himself. But to be so blinded by your fear that you did not even think of him…

“I got no fucking clue.” He asks, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “I’ll call Daemon, alright?”

“Yeah.” You say, quietly. You grab the seat’s edge and squeeze, as if you could will Daemon to your side by frustration alone. Harwin dials.

“Yeah, we are fine.” Harwin says, smiling at you through the mirror. You know he wouldn’t be so casual if something bad had happened, and so, you give him a thumbs up. Your guilt eases a bit, being replaced by relief. “She is fine, just a bit shaken up.” And he rolls his eyes because Daemon can be a bit overbearing.

“Just trouble with an errand guy.” Harwin explains, once the call is over. “He should be here soon.”

But despite how casual they made it sound, you couldn’t shake the fear and guilt away. It stayed on your mind, nestled like a worm, curling around your brain and threatening to choke it. When the night comes, and Daemon sleeps peacefully by your side, you still think of it. Of how you could die, and he could too. And there wouldn’t be a thing to be done.

You sit up on your side of the bed, letting the sheet pool around your waist. You hug your knees to your chest. The night is chilly, and the blackout curtains Daemon insists on having to ensure the room is pitch black. It only serves to disquiet you further.

There is a gun on Daemon’s nightstand. Should there be one in yours? His work is dangerous enough to warrant it. Enough to warrant you having a bodyguard, why not a weapon of your own?

You weren’t going to let him die. Nor were you going to leave him behind, like today. This was the twenty-first century, not the Middle Ages. You were tired of cowering back and acting the damsel in distress. If someone is going to try to hurt the man you love, you sure will fight back.

Daemon was yours. As much as you were his, and so, it wasn’t fair that only he protected you. You needed to be able to have his back, or at least, not be a distraction in a fight.

Your decision is not just something you can communicate to Daemon, though. He is not going to like it. You know him. Daemon is a bit old-fashioned like that. He likes gender roles a little too much for it. He is your protector and provider, and you are supposed to just be sweet and warm. The thought of you using a gun will probably cause him a heart attack.

And the thing is, Daemon doesn’t just style himself your protector. He does an outstanding job of it. He has managed to keep you away from the nastier side of his business. Never have you seen a dead body, or any of his associates beyond his family. So if you hope to achieve this, you need to be smart about it.

You decide you will tell him first thing in the morning when he is barely awake. He will be more susceptible that way. And happy with your plan, you finally manage to catch a few hours of sleep.

The next morning, you get started making breakfast with only one thing in mind. Convincing Daemon. You are barefoot, wearing only one of his shirts. It’s basic manipulation, and he will probably able to tell, but you hope it will soften him to your cause.

It’s when you are scrambling the eggs that he emerges, lured by the smell of fried bacon and a fresh pot of tea. Daemon wraps himself around you, still warm with sleep.

“Morning, love.” His voice is still a bit hoarse with sleep. He nuzzles your neck and hums, pleased. “Couldn’t I convince you to come back to bed?”

You laugh.

“Not really. The eggs are almost done.” You take the pan off the stove, letting it cool. “I would like to learn how to shoot.”

Daemon stiffens. You can feel him pull back from you. It’s not a physical thing, his arms remain wrapped around your waist, but his voice becomes colder and meaner. He is fully awake now.

“And why, in the Seven Hells, would you need to learn?”

“To feel safer.” You answer, keeping your tone steady.

“Do you not feel safe already? I could hire you another bodyguard.” Daemon hugs you slightly tighter. You lean into the counter a little bit, and sigh. Then, you detangle yourself from him.

“I don’t want a bodyguard. I need to learn how to shoot.” You state again, calmly. You turn to look at him. He looks more annoyed than angry.

“Sweetheart. You know that is not the best idea.” Daemon pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Why not?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“You are sensitive. You cry when animals die in movies.” He complains, stepping a bit closer to you. Daemon pours you a cup of tea and plates the eggs. “Go sit. I’ll wrap this up.”

You give him a sullen look but obey, watching him cut and toast the bread just in the way you like. You sit by the kitchen’s island, watching him work. Daemon is only wearing his underwear. You don’t think he owns something that resembles pajamas. Targaryens always run hot, or so they say.

Disappointing yourself, you let yourself be distracted by the view. You watch the muscles on his back shift and move as he finishes breakfast for you. You are mesmerized by the elegance of his every movement.

He is delicious, you think to yourself. You want to climb him like a tree. Despite the slight age difference, Daemon is more handsome than other men you have met. He is a bit vain, sure, but his efforts are worth it.

It’s only after he sits next to you that you remember what you were doing. You blame it on the lack of sleep.

“So?”

“You are my woman. It’s my duty to protect you. I’ll keep you safe.” Daemon rubs your shoulders, comfortingly. His voice sounds apologetic, a denial despite the soft tone he is using. “You know I keep you well away from danger.”

And he does. Not only Harwin and him have talked protocols, but Daemon has also ensured you would be protected even in the event of his death or imprisonment. You have numerous properties to your name, a few fake passports and three hidden bank accounts in different tax havens. None of which would be taken away if the two of you break up, Daemon has clearly stated. He loves you enough to want you to be protected even if you don’t love him anymore.

“I don’t like being powerless.”

“I seem to remember you do.” He squeezes your thigh, playfully. Your breath shifts despite yourself. You cover it by taking a sip of your tea and leveling a faux glare at him.

“I know.” Daemon kisses your nose. “I like that you don’t know how to shoot. That you are clean from this world.”

“It won’t sully me.” You argue because it’s a silly thing to think. It’s not like you are going to start shooting people or running illegal gambling rings. You just want to be able to defend yourself if something happens. And perhaps Daemon. If he doesn't feel too emasculated, this ridiculous man of yours.

“If I wanted a woman who knew how to shoot I would still be with Rhaenyra.” He complains.

“Plenty of women know how. I am not…” You rub at your eyes, tiredly. You want him to understand nothing is going to change between the two of you. “I do not want to go to your stupid meetings or meet your associates for dinner. I just want to know how to defend myself if something happens.”

“And I am saying you don’t need to because nothing is going to happen.” Daemon’s voice turns firmer. Now you can tell he is beginning to get angry, so you reach for his hand and squeeze.

“But if it does? If one night we wake up and there is a gun to our faces? Then what? Do I just let you die for me?” You allow your voice to break in the last part, letting him truly see your anguish. It is a fear of you that has lived on too long. You need this. You need to be able to defend both of you if something happens.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

It gets you to the firing range. Daemon takes you there in the middle of the week, hoping to inconvenience the least amount of people with him booking the entire place.

Your first impression of it is that it’s nothing like in the movies. There are neat little booths with circular targets instead of human shaped ones. You had expected only utilitarian decoration, harsh white lighting and white walls. Instead, the place looks well maintained and expensive. You should have expected so, considering this is Daemon you are talking about.

“Your first lesson…” Daemon says, eyeing you distrustfully. You stare right back at him. “Will be on safety.”

He takes two bulletproof vests out of a hanger, as well two pairs of earmuffs.

“These are protection gear, meant to be used each time you are practicing. And hopefully…” Daemon passes the bulletproof vest over your head. You let him do so, lifting your arms when he instructs you. The vest is heavier than you expect, and more solid too. It feels like what you wear when you are getting an x-ray. “You will use the vest too if you ever fire a gun outside here.”

“And not the earmuffs?”

“You should wear them to protect your ears, especially if you are firing many rounds. But you never see people wearing these because they are heavy-duty protection. In a real fight, you wouldn’t be able to hear your surroundings. Gunshots are pretty loud. So are gunfights.”

“Is that why you are losing your hearing?” You sass, with a grin. “I thought it was just your old age.”

“Oh, shut up. Little brat.” Daemon smacks your ass, playful. It doesn’t even hurt, but you jump and squeal in faux outrage. He laughs at your antics, and it does make you feel better about forcing him to teach you this.

“Should we do the whole…?” You gesture vaguely, trying to reference the classical movie or book montage where the female lead and the love interest stand very close, under the excuse to fix her posture. Daemon shakes his head.

“What is even that?” You would call him an old man for missing your reference, but you know he is sensitive about his age. Besides, you are not a great mime either. “No. You are going to stand with your legs and shoulders the same width apart and a proper posture. No slouching!”

“You know, not all of us grew up with a tutor chasing us and screaming for proper posture.” You grumble, but comply with his orders.

“Perhaps if you had, you wouldn’t need all those Pilates and Yoga classes you so enjoy.” Daemon argues right back. He circles you and pushes a bit at your hips. You try to loosen them. “Perhaps my cards would not explode then.”

“Shut up. It’s not like you don’t reap the benefits.”

Your good humor disappears when Daemon places a gun on the counter in front of you. You go quiet, suddenly unsure of your choice. He shows you how to charge it and how to put the safety on and off. You pay him all of your attention, feeling a bit numb. Most of the details about it fly over your head, despite your attempts to memorize them.

“Alright. I think you are ready for your first try.” Daemon says, handing you the gun. You grab it with trembling hands. You adjust your stance and ensure the muzzle is pointing down, and that you are not gesturing wildly with it. He puts your earmuffs on, and then his.

The world around you feels muffled. You swear you can hear your heartbeat, with how silent everything is. The gun in your hands is throwing you off. It looks odd. These can’t be your hands. You feel like you are not actually there, but watching the scene unfold from outside, watching someone else about to shoot.

Daemon adjusts your grip with his hands, casual about his proximity to the loaded weapon. You stiffen as soon as you feel him approach you, worried about accidentally shooting him.

“Come on.” He mouths, impatiently. You lift the gun, take the safety off, and aim. You pull the trigger, and it is with an awful noise and jerk, that you fire for the first time. The shot goes wide, hitting the wall next to the target.

Daemon taps your shoulder and gestures for you to go again. He watches your every move. His expression betrays nothing. If you are going at it the wrong way, you wouldn't be able to tell.

You repeat the motion, flinching at the noise. Even with the earmuffs it’s loud. It reminds you of that day in the alley, and makes your stomach clench. Daemon signals for you to put the gun down, and you do so, glad that it’s over. You can’t believe you thought you could actually do this. You feel so stupid. He was right, you are too soft.

Daemon can probably tell you are getting too in your head. He removes your earmuffs and pulls you in for a hug. The vests make it awkward, but you feel comforted by his solidness next to you.

“You did great, sweetheart.” He lies, and kisses your temple. You feel so disappointed you could cry. A laugh bubbles out of you, a bit hysterical.

Daemon tsks. He reaches for the gun and deftly discharges it.

“Come on.” He says, kissing your cheek. “I know what your problem is.”

“Yeah?” You ask him, a bit doubtful. You don’t want to feel any sort of hope, just in case that he is mistaken. Giving up so easily might be childish, yet you had not expected this to be so hard. After all, like half the people that Daemon knew could do it.

“You have to learn to love the gun.” He places it back on your hand and steps up behind you. It seems like you are doing the movie thing after all. He kicks your legs a bit, encouraging you to shift your stance.

“Love the gun?”

“You keep looking at it like it’s a weapon of mass destruction.” Daemon laughs, and mouths along your nape. You shiver. It’s an almost Pavlovian reaction by now. When Daemon’s voice gets all low and husky, and he holds you like that, your body knows it’s time for sex. It’s very inappropriate. But conditioned as you are, you can’t stop the throb of arousal between your thighs. “Stop looking like you are horrified by it.”

He fixes your grip around the gun. He steadies your hand.

“Shoot.”

You obey, pulling the trigger. The gun clicks, but nothing happens. It’s unloaded.

“Good.” Daemon says, and lightly bites your shoulder. “Again.”

You repeat the motion. He has you do it over and over again, until you no longer flinch when pulling the trigger. When you are fully desensitized to the sound, Daemon takes the gun from you.

“Great job.” He says, placing the gun right on your face. “Now kiss it.”

“Excuse me?” You stare at Daemon, sure that he must be joking. Kissing the gun? No way. But one look at his face, at the amused curve of his lips, and the mischievous glint in his eyes, tell you that he is serious.

“You heard me.” Daemon chuckles, a bit darkly. You understand then that this is both for his amusement and a punishment. He gets off on humiliating others, that you know. And he had not liked that you had forced him into giving you shooting lessons. He now intends to bring you down a few pegs. “Kiss the barrel.”

You scrunch up your face. You got your pride, too. Despite knowing that submitting to his whims is easy and will probably pacify him for a while, you can’t help but resist. Your whole body rebels at the idea of accepting such an obvious power play.

“Come on, don’t be like that. You owe me.” Daemon tilts your head up, placing a finger under your chin. He makes a show of cooing over your pout, before leaning in to kiss you.

“I don’t!” You move your head away, denying him. It’s a bit cruel, and it makes him frown, which you consider a win.

“You so do. I didn’t want to teach you, you know. At least give me good jerk off material.” He pouts at you, and you can’t help but smile a little. He is ridiculous.

It is part of why you love him. Daemon is young in spirit, if not in body, and he makes you feel younger too. Giddy and willing to do silly things. Silly things like leaning in and kissing the barrel of a gun.

The metal is cold under your lips, hard and unyielding. Daemon makes a pleased noise and pulls you in for a kiss. You can feel him smile against your mouth, before trying to deepen it. Playfully, you nip at him, until it is him who yields and opens up for you.

It is then that he presses the cold barrel against your nape. The feeling of the gun against your skin makes you tense and jerk, giving him once again the upper hand. With the control of the kiss back in his hands, he pulls you closer.

You feel yourself slowly starting to become aroused. One of Daemon’s hands finds your hip, squeezing the flesh there. His gesture is both possessive and greedy. Something swoops in your belly, dark and demanding. You want all his attention on you, you want him all for you.

Making out with Daemon is a full-bodied experience. It shouldn’t surprise you, then, that he starts to gently run the muzzle of the gun down your neck. At first, you don’t notice, too caught up on how close both of you are. Your chest is flush against his, and the feeling of his body against yours makes you whimper, before you realize what game is he playing.

“Daemon.” You warn, annoyed. He gives you a shit eating grin.

“I am just getting the two of you better acquainted. My best girls.” Daemon leans in and kisses behind your ear. He takes his time, making out with the shell of it. He is cautious to do all the right things to make you tremble against him. Yet, you can’t seem to forget about the gun, running down your sternum, between your breasts.

The muzzle gets caught against your clothes. Daemon uses it to push one of the sleeves of your top a little aside, to be able to lavish the skin there with kisses. You only feel the metal against your skin for a second, but it makes you think about how it would feel against your naked skin. Would the cold make your hairs stand up on edge, and your nipples pebble? Or would it warm up to your temperature?

The thought makes your breath hitch, and your panties even wetter.

“There is no one here.” You say, quietly. “If you were to take off my shirt…”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Daemon grins, encouraging you to lean against the counter of the firing range. “You devious little thing.”

He drops to his knees in front of you, carefully taking your clothing off. You watch him move between your legs, helping you widen your stance. Daemon kisses a path from your ankles towards your knees, mouthing along as if having the finest of banquets. His kisses feel scorching against your skin, and you can’t help but jut your hips slightly, trying to command him into touching you.

Daemon smiles at you, cheekily. He then bites your inner thighs, scratching just enough to make you arch in pleasure-pain. When you are just about to hike one of your legs over his shoulder, he sucks your clit inside his mouth, and it’s then that you feel it. The cold barrel of the gun, pressing along your inner thighs.

You moan. Daemon laughs.

“You little whore.” It sounds fond. He eats you out without any finesse, slurping noisily. The thought of anyone else being able to overhear this makes you embarrassed, so you try to keep quiet. Your eyes close, hands squeezing around the edge of the counter.

Daemon is not trying to bring you any pleasure. His movements and touches are too methodical for it. He presses a finger inside your hole, then another. Then it is scissoring them and shushing you with soft licks to your clit when you complain at the slight sting.

Any pleasure you get out of it is incidental. Instead, Daemon is getting you ready for something. And this time, you know it’s not his cock. The thought fills you with dread and arousement in equal parts. How will it feel? Metal doesn’t give the same way flesh does. But the thought of having a gun, Daemon's, inside you, makes your hips jerk.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” He pulls away, reappearing from between your legs. “Fuck. I don’t know if I want to see your face or your greedy little hole when I put it inside.”

You look at him. His hair is sticking up in all directions, but his smile is absolutely ferocious.

“My face. Just in case…” You reach for his shoulder and squeeze, gently. Despite how arousing you think the whole thing is, you are still hesitant. Sometimes, things don’t feel as you imagine they would. You don’t want this to be disappointing.

Daemon seems to understand, despite the fact that you don’t verbalize it.

“I’ll talk you through it.” He says, kindly. He then spreads your folds a little and presses the tip of the gun against your hole.

You yelp. Your grip on his shoulder turns punishing. It feels pleasant, as penetration often does, but there is a foreign quality to it as well. The gun is wide, and metal doesn’t give as flesh does. You feel as if you are rooted tp the spot by it, being impaled with each inch Daemon presses inside you.

“You are doing so well. Good girl. My little girl.” He presses a kiss to your stomach. He keeps rubbing at your clit until you relax around the barrel. It’s only then that he attempts to fuck you with it. You clench at his shoulders, overwhelmed, and moan.

It’s confusing. The ridges of it feel good, catching against your hole. The metal slowly starts to warm up, not feeling as strange as before. Daemon keeps steadily sucking your clit.

The pleasure builds. So does your need. You start to move your hips along with his thrusting, trying your best to reach your orgasm. So of course, Daemon pulls away from your clit.

“You are taking it so well.” Daemon praises, voice husky with desire. “Your pussy swallows the gun right up.”

You moan, almost without realizing. You are so close it itches. But moving your hips up and down isn’t enough. You need more.

“Daemon, please.” You beg, near tears. Never before have you been this frustrated.

“Who would have known? You are such a hungry little whore.” Daemon smirks. The crudeness of his words makes you gasp. You feel smaller than you have ever felt, yet somehow, it makes you feel deliciously dirty. He is not wrong. It’s embarrassing, how you are humping the gun he holds, but you can’t stop. “You don’t think, you are so desperate you would fuck anything. Do anything, just to fill your greedy holes.”

“Please. Fuck.” You sob. Daemon licks his thumb and starts rubbing your poor, abused clit. He keeps fucking you with the gun, building you up and up, towards the orgasm you so desperately crave. You come with a scream so loud, you thank he has booked the whole place for only yourselves.

Turns out, you don’t hate guns as much as you thought.

[foxy-eva]

Dancing in the Moonlight

Summary: Spencer gets creative in order to cheer up Reader

Request: could you please write about how sunshine!reader ends up having a bad day and grumpy spencer spends all day to no avail trying to cheer up the sunshine!reader. The thing that finally works is a little bit silly? 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Category: Comfort, Fluff

Content Warning: Reader has a bad day and is upset but it's not specified why, mentions crying

Word Count: 1k

Masterlist

Just like a sunbeam sneaking through black curtains you came into Spencer's life all those months ago. He would never forget the first time he felt the heat your presence radiated, warming even the darkest corner of his heart. After those long days of fighting evil, he craved nothing more than coming home to bask in your kindness. 

However, when he entered your apartment that night, Spencer immediately realized that something was different. Where he'd usually find excitement and joy, he only saw a fake smile on your face.

"What's wrong, my love?" 

Spencer found his place beside you on the couch, offering to pull you right into his arms. You hesitated, afraid that his touch might break loose the tears you so desperately tried to hold back. 

Instead of accepting his embrace, you just shook your head and answered, "I just had a bad day." 

Spencer knew that it must have been a truly terrible day for it to take away your smile. You were the most optimistic person he had ever met, always seeing the good in everything even when he couldn't. 

"I'm sorry to hear that. What can I do to make it better?" 

You just shrugged and leaned back on the couch, ready to simply wait until this day would be over. 

Spencer, however, decided to make it his mission to cheer you up. After giving it some thought, he realized that he had no idea how to do that, though. Usually your roles were reversed with you being the one to comfort him after a bad day. You were the one who – without fail – always managed to light up his life.

Now it was his turn to do the same for you. He just needed to figure out how. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" He offered. 

You shook your head while sinking back further into the couch. Spencer reached out his hand to brush over your fingertips. His touch was soothing, so you opened your palm to take his hand in yours. He moved closer to you until his shoulder touched yours. 

When you locked eyes with him you managed to flash him a timid smile, not as genuine as usual but less fake than before. 

"Hey," Spencer whispered.

"Hi," you breathed. 

His lips found yours in a brief and innocent kiss. It wasn't enough to make up for what happened today but you appreciated his attempt to light up your inner spark again. 

Spencer quickly noticed that his nearness alone wouldn't be enough to cheer you up. 

"Are you hungry?" He asked. "I could make you something to eat."

"I already had dinner earlier," you declined his offer. 

He got up from the couch to turn on the TV and put on your favorite show before disappearing in the kitchen for a few minutes. When he came back he handed you a mug with freshly brewed tea. 

"Thank you," you said while taking the beverage. "I really appreciate it."

It was true, you did appreciate his attempts to make your day better. It didn't work though. As he sat with you to watch the show while occasionally checking your facial features, he realized that, too. 

"You're still upset," he stated with a frown present on his face. 

"Sorry, I–"

"Don't apologize," he interrupted you. "It's not your fault. I just hate that I have no idea how to help you. You're always there for me and know exactly what to do or say and here I am… so…lost." 

"It's okay, Spencer. I'm sure it'll just pass. Tomorrow is a new day."

"No, don't you try to cheer me up!" He protested. "This is about you. I really want to make you feel better." 

You turned your head to look out the window. The sun had already set, all you could find was darkness on the other side of the glass. It almost felt like a metaphor for that day, as if all you could do was to wait for the next morning to let the rising sun warm your heart again. 

Spencer couldn't accept that, though, so he suggested, "We could go for a walk. Maybe the fresh air will help you clear your head."

It was worth a try. Chilly air met puffy cheeks when you stepped outside, Spencer’s hand immediately reaching out to intertwine his fingers with yours. Walking side by side, you followed his lead, unable to make a decision as to where to go yourself. Soon you stepped into a park together, noticing how a mild breeze created a rustling sound as it met leafy trees.

Tilting your head, your eyes wandered over the night sky. The moon was bright and big, almost looking unreal from your point of view. Although it was only borrowing its light from the sun, it still did its bet to illuminate your path. 

Very sudden and without a warning Spencer stopped his motions to step in front of you. He softly smiled at you when he said, "Dance with me."

Those were words you never thought you'd hear from him, so you asked in disbelief, "What?" 

He gently got ahold of your wrists to move them to his shoulders before he grabbed your waist. 

"Dance with me," he repeated. 

And so you did. 

At first you just swayed from side to side, not unlike all those kitschy prom scenes in teen movies. There was no music playing but that was alright, the sound of the wind was your beat while some sleepless bird sang the harmony. When Spencer made the first step, you simply followed his motions. 

It was clumsy and graceless but he didn't give up, not even when he almost fell over his own feet. The smile slowly forming on your face spurred him on to keep going despite his lack of skill. There was no holding back the laughter spilling from your lips each time your chests almost collided because you missed a step. 

However, after a few moments your body moved naturally with his, almost as if you had done that a million times before. Your smile grew bigger with each spin, making you slowly forget the sorrows of the day. And although the sunrise was still many hours away, just like that your inner light began shining again.  

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @melifluorei-d @hotchandspencearedilfs @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @velvetthunder93 @cncoxlifeline @saturnstringz @missabsey @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @snapeknot @enamoradax @hales-17 @cham9ions @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr

[tkwrites]

Elimination - Quinn Hughes x ofc

 gif by @thombordeleau 

Title: Elimination

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn x Sarah

Warnings: Sad Quinn, fluff and comfort, smut (18+ only), unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f receiving), if I missed any others, please let me know. 

Summary: When the Canucks are eliminated from the Stanley Cup Playoffs, Sarah offers Quinn a kind of comfort he didn’t know he needed. 

Word count: 4,200

Comments: This snapshot has been a long time coming. The idea of Sarah comforting Quinn the way she does came to me while I was driving to work one day, and I immediately wrote it down. It took me quite a while to figure Quinn’s family into the story, including his brothers (yes! They're finally here!). 

As I was editing the comfort scene, I found the story continuing in a way I didn’t really expect, but mirrored Before I meet your parents… in a way I couldn’t ignore. 

If you enjoy it, please let me know by commenting or reblogging! Your comments really do inspire me to keep writing! 

Elimination 

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

The playoffs were a whole different beast than Sarah had become accustomed to. Not only was the season much longer than any of the guys were used to, practices were more intense and heated, video more in depth, the need for rest and recovery more acute. She knew first hand how tired the team was because she knew first hand how tired Quinn was. 

In the first round, they'd lost the first game in the series before rallying to win the next three. The Kings won one more before the Canucks stamped them out with the last win coming on home ice in overtime. Despite the final score only being 1-0, it was the most exciting game Sarah had ever been to. 

When she was sitting with Quinns family, Luke had taken to teasing her in that little brother way every time her hands ended up clutching her face with each shot directed at Demko or Talbot. 

“Calm down, Sarah,” he’d said, when she jumped in her seat, hands flying up to cover her mouth as Demko barrel rolled to stop another shot from Kopitar.

She'd sent a playful glare his way, “I'm surprised Kylee hasn't told you you should never tell a woman to calm down. That's a surefire way to get yourself into trouble.” 

Kylee, who was sitting on Lukes other side, snorted. “Oh, I have. He just doesn’t listen.”

Luke took it in stride and laughed. He reminded Sarah so much of her oldest nephew, Ryan. Good natured, friendly and a little bit goofy once she broke through that shy shell.

Sarah glanced at Jack, who was sitting with his some of his cousins farther down the row. His eyes darted away, as if caught staring at something he shouldn’t. 

The strained way he acted around her was getting better, but he was still pretty standoffish toward her. When she asked Quinn what she could do to fix it, he said to just give it time, and Jack would come around eventually. He didn’t think it was actually anything about her, but rather Jack needing time to adjust to the situation. 

“I think he finally realized how serious I am about you.” 

“You’re serious about me?” she’d asked, all flirty lashes and coy smiles. 

“You know I am,” he’d responded before leaning in to kiss her. 

So, she turned back to the game, giving Jack time and hoping he would see  how much she loved his older brother and that she only meant well. 

When Garland shot the overtime goal off a picture perfect pass from Quinn, he managed to catch Talbot above the blocker, sending the puck sailing into the back of the net with a definitive whoosh. 

The arena erupted into a wall of sound.

The entire team, clad in blue, spilled onto the ice, throwing helmets and gloves, crowding around Conor and Thatcher. 

Quinn was ecstatic that evening. Practically bouncing off the walls of the club they went to to celebrate. Sarah had never seen him so loud - caught up in the atmosphere and moment. 

Halfway through the night, he pulled her into a dim corner and kissed her so thoroughly, she actually considered pulling him into the dingy bathroom to have her way with him right then. 

Jack interrupted, drunkenly loud, and demanded that Quinn come with him for a round of shots. 

Quinn paused, meeting Sarah’s eye. 

“Go celebrate,” she encouraged, trying her best to not come between them. She and Quinn could find a spare moment to celebrate on their own later. 

With his family in his house, that moment hadn’t come, but she was glad to see Quinn celebrating so heartily with his brothers. 

In the second round, after three straight losses to the Predators, Vancouver battled, forcing game five, before dominating in Nashville two nights later, selling their comeback story.

When they got back to town, the whole city was buzzing.

Despite the excitement, game six was awful to watch. Sarah had her hands over her mouth through most of it.  

Now that they were fighting to tie, and the Preds were fighting, once again, to clinch the series, Nashville was playing dirty: exploiting every Canucks weakness they could find. They needled, drawing penalty after stupid, preventable penalty until they were three goals up at the end of the second period. 

Quinn was exhausted. Sarah could see it in his skating and in the slumped set of his shoulders as they went into the dressing room for the intermission.

She sent him a text, I’m so proud of you. 

He didn't reply, but they battled back, holding off all Preds offense and getting within a goal by the time Demko was pulled at the end of the third. Quinn battled fiercely to keep the puck in the offensive zone for more than a minute, giving a master class on body-eye coordination as he skirted the blue line, dodging Nashville players as if someone were controlling him with a top ice view. 

Their passes were perfect: tic-tac-toe from Quinn to Mikheyev to Lafferty, but as Sam tried to get the puck to Höglander, the pass was intercepted.

Nashville fought to center ice and chipped the puck into the Vancouver end. 

Quinn chased it, but he just didn't have enough in the tank. He caught up just as the puck bounced back out of the open net. 

Full of frustration and despair, he smacked it into the boards. Caught at just the right angle, the puck ricocheted back at him, and he had to lift a hand to block it from hitting him in the face. 

Sarah could practically see the frustrated embarrassment radiating off him as he skated to sit down. 

Demko was pulled again and Quinn managed to get the empty netter back, but through the ugly march of time, the clock expired before they could score another. 

The buzzer sounded and Nashville celebrated, throwing equipment all over the ice, all hugging and jumping as the Canucks limped into the dressing room. 

Even despite the disappointment of losing, everyone was thrilled to see them get this far. Going from the middle of the pack last season to top of the league this year was no small feat. She knew Quinn wouldn’t be satisfied until they got the cup, but she was so proud of him. 

He sent a text, telling them to go home and he would meet them there when he was done with the media. 

It was torture for Sarah to have to leave and wait for him. She wished she could go down to the dressing room, but knew not only would she not be allowed in, Quinn would hate it. He would want to talk with her privately. 

Everyone was subdued as they puttered around the apartment, waiting for him. Both Jack and Luke were on their phones, sprawled out over the living room furniture, while Ellen, Jim and Kylee were doing something in the kitchen. Sarah was too nervous to even distract herself. Quinn had lost before, of course, but she’d never seen him lose like this — not this kind of a season-ending, brutal loss. 

When the elevator dinged, Sarah jumped to her feet, his family following suit, clambering into the living room.

To her surprise, Quinn came straight to her, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. His suit was rumpled, his tie attempting to slither out of his breast pocket. When she wrapped him in her arms, he practically collapsed against her. 

Ellen knew Quinn loved and trusted Sarah and that he spent far more time with her these days, but it was still a bit shocking when he bypassed them all to go straight to her for comfort.

Sarah reacted in a way Ellen never had and upon seeing the scene play out, she realized Sarah’s reaction may have been something Quinn had been longing for for a long time.

She would usually hug him for a while, before talking him down. They would soon end up dissecting shifts and plays. He would lament how he could have been better, and she would try to comfort him while still being realistic. 

Sarah just stood there, holding him. She didn't say a word, even when Quinn started to cry softly. She just ran a hand into his wet hair, while the other traveled slowly up and down his back. 

 She didn't assure or placate him, or even try to get him to stop crying. She just let him express the emotion without judgment or commentary. It hit Ellen suddenly that Sarah reacted this way because she had dealt with so much sorrow in her life, she knew how to comfort in these hard moments. 

The family stood by and watched. She didn’t look up and meet their eyes with a conspiratorial, he’ll be alright, look, or invite them into the embrace. Her whole intention was focused on Quinn. 

While it was sweet to see them together in this way, it was also a little awkward to watch, especially for the boys, who looked like they had no idea what to do.

It was full minutes before anyone said anything, and even then, it was just Sarah asking if he wanted to sit down. He shook his head so she did a little two-step, and kept on. 

As Ellen watched them interact, it was obvious how much they meant to and understood each other. It was so sweet to witness her son finding the person he needed that she pulled out her phone to record them, wanting to document the moment. 

When they finally spoke, Ellen was glad she was filming. 

“I let everyone down,” Quinn said, his voice choked with emotion, just above a whisper. 

“No.” Her voice was quite loud, the word definitive, leaving no room for doubt. It was a bit shocking to hear Sarah be so forceful.

Taking his jaw, she gently lifted his head up so he had to look into her eyes. 

“No,” she repeated, her voice a little softer now. “This wasn't only your fault, and it didn't happen because of anything you did by yourself.”

Ellen wasn’t sure she would go that far… If he had gone for a change, someone with fresh legs may have been able to chase down that empty netter.

“You don’t win as a team, but lose by yourself. That’s not how this works.”

Now she understood where Sarah was going. 

“I know this run is ending sooner than you wanted and I'd be more concerned if you weren't sad.” She paused for a long moment, looking into his eyes as if she was searching for something. When she didn’t find it, she continued, “I just - I want you to remember that I don't love you because you play hockey.” 

His lower lip trembled and Ellen felt hers do the same. 

“I love you because of this big, kind heart,” she said as she pressed a hand to his chest, “and because of this brilliant, thoughtful mind,” her other hand slid into the hair at his temple. “And those are the same as they were this morning. You're so much more than hockey.”

He was looking at her like she'd hung the moon. 

Ellen felt tears slip down her own cheeks. All her life, she’d been trying to strike a balance with her boys - trying to find the right way to tell them hockey was just a part of who they are. And here Sarah was, walking into their life, and saying the exact thing Ellen had been trying to say all along. 

Right then and there, the remaining reservations she had about Sarah were swept onto the back burner. She knew it would still take some getting used to, but how could she not love this woman standing in front of her, telling her son she loved him for who he was and not for the things he did? It was all she could ask for as a mother. 

She glanced over at Jack, who looked a little dumbfounded, as if seeing Sarah for the first time. Luke was smiling in a glad, knowing way, his arm looped around Kylee. 

Jim, standing on Ellen’s other side had a mixture of pride and disappointment on his face. Ellen knew he was going to battle with himself at the thought of Quinn crying over being eliminated. When they were kids, he would have told the boys to buck up, despite Ellen’s insistence it was okay for them to express their sadness for a little while. 

The happiness at seeing someone accept Quinn as he was won out, and Jim put his arm around Ellen with a conspiratorial smile.

“Of course you’re going to be sad,” Sarah continued. “Like I said, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t. But you,” she poked him gently in the chest to emphasize her point, “sure as hell didn’t let me down.” 

Quinn threw his arms around her in a fierce hug. “I love you.”   

“I love you, too.” 

He wiped at his eyes, then turned to the family. They embraced him one by one. 

After she’d hugged Quinn, Ellen went to Sarah, “I don’t know how you did that,” she said, pulling her close, “but that was exactly what he needed.” 

When Quinn made his way back to Sarah, he kissed her temple. His eyes were still red, cheeks still splotched with color, but he looked settled. Not satisfied or happy, really, but settled.

Later that night, Ellen sent the video to her sister, making her promise to not share it with anyone. She just needed someone else to see the tenderness. 

Oh, Elle, I'm so glad Quinn finally found a good one. I can't wait to meet her. 

At the same time Ellen was texting her sister, Quinn was lying next to Sarah in bed. Her words from earlier replaying over and over again in his thoughts. 

He'd practically begged her to stay over. She hadn't planned to with his family in the house, but he felt a bit needy and wanted the comfort of her next to him. 

“Thank you for tonight,” he said, turning to her.

She rolled onto her side so they were face to face. “I'm always gonna be in your corner, Quinn.”

Leaning in, he kissed her - gently at first, but it soon turned more passionate. 

The fact that they would be apart before too long was on both their minds as they made love that night. 

“Oh, Quinn. Right there, right there,” she chanted, voice soft. 

The simple fact that he could make her feel this way made his heart feel full to bursting. At least he hadn't lost that. 

Keeping eye contact, his hand traced to her left knee and pulled it up over his hip. He didn’t want her to have the same old orgasm. Not tonight. A big part of him wanted to prove he could still excel here.

Head tipping back, Sarah panted.  

His other hand came up to guide her chin back down. 

The way she clenched around him when their eyes met made his hips stutter.

She lifted herself up to catch his mouth. It changed the angle of his thrusts, making his whole body quiver. He tried to brace against it, slowing down and concentrating on kissing the breath out of her. 

It worked in that they were both breathless before too long, but didn't ease the feeling of being pulled to the very edge of his restraint. The competitive streak inside him wasn't about to allow himself to come before she did - especially not tonight, when he had so much left to prove. 

“No,” she gasped  when he pulled away. “I was right there.”

He laughed into her skin. “I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he said, before tracing his mouth over her clavicle and trailing his tongue between her breasts, savoring the salty taste of her skin. 

The blankets pulled with him as he settled between her legs, and Sarah gasped as the cool air of his room hit her. 

She looked so ethereal in a pool of soft light from one of the skylights, her chest rising and falling at a hurried, steady pace. 

“God, you're beautiful,” he whispered. 

Times like these, Quinn still wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to find Sarah. She seemed to be his perfect match in every way. It wasn’t always smooth sailing - nothing ever was. This summer was sure to take a toll on their relationship. He knew, somehow, they would come out on the other side, better and stronger, but all the same, he wasn’t looking forward to spending so many nights without her. 

Pushing that worry out of his mind, he concentrated the task at hand and lowered his mouth to her hot center. 

It was his turn to give thanks.

She was acutely aware of his family in the apartment: brothers on the floor below, while his parents were down the hall. They were never particularly loud in bed, but the thought of his family overhearing hushed her vocal cords even more. 

“Quinn,” she whimpered.

He ate up every whisper, every little whine and panted breath, knowing they were just for him. 

Making some unintelligible noise, her back arched, lifting off the mattress. 

She whined when he eased two fingers into her and lifted his mouth. 

“Help me find it?” he whispered, crooking his fingers.

“Higher.”

He moved slowly, not wanting to go too fast and pass over it.  

“There, there,” she panted. 

Reaching up with his free hand, he disentangled her fingers from the sheet so he could grasp her hand, linking them together.

“You can press a little harder. It’s not as sen -” her voice broke off into a groaned, “oh, fuck,” as he urged that soft, spongey spot with a heavier touch. 

They’d done this more after his revelatory first time, and he loved discovering new things about her. He still had a hard time finding her g-spot on his own, but he was learning. Tonight felt like a whole new ego stroke, one he was seeking if he was being honest with himself.

His mind wandered back to the first time he’d touched her, the way she’d reminded him of Helen of Troy - beautiful beyond belief. He ached for her the same way now as he watched her fall apart. Mouth dropped open as her body pulled taught as a bow string, one hand grasping the headboard for stability while the other clutched his like a vice.

As she came down from her high, he kept his fingers pressed into her.

Even as she squirmed against the sensitivity from his strong touch, she felt a blaze of pleasure reignite in her belly, faster than it ever had before. 

Still kneading with his fingertips, he lowered down, sucking her sensitive pearl into his mouth. She let out a strangled cry that left him dizzy with satisfaction. 

The contrast of his warm mouth and soft tongue on her core against the harsh rasp of his playoff beard on her inner thighs wound her tighter and tighter until he was sparking so much ecstasy in her body, she couldn't quite remember why she was trying to be so quiet.

Her fingers tightened in his at the same time her legs trembled and he knew she was close. He continued on, mouth soft and steady while his fingers worked with more focused intent. 

The way she whimpered his name made him groan and rock his hips into the mattress to get a bit of relief.

When the tension in her pelvis finally snapped, Sarah cried out. 

It was only after she came back to herself and he eased his fingers from her that she worried about how loud she'd been. 

Before she could ask, he knocked her breathless again as he slid his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them with apparent relish. 

“Did I yell?” she whispered as he crawled back over her. 

He shook his head, “not too loud. I don't think they heard.”

The anxiety ebbed away as he leaned in to kiss her. 

“Can you turn over?” he asked, lips barely grazing hers. 

She pulled back to look into his face. 

“I want to make you feel good,” he said. 

“You already did. Twice.”

“Please?” he asked, ghosting his lips over her cheek, “let me make you come one more time.”

In reality, Quinn was tired, but his pride was insistent, eager to feel her again and he knew if he got her on her stomach she’d come faster than in missionary. 

He could see worry in her expression, but she did as he asked, the sheets clinging briefly to her back as she rolled. 

One of his hands grazed down her side, following the curvature of her hip before tracing her hamstring all the way to the knee. Hooking his hand there, he eased her leg out to the side. 

He really was spoiling her. Eagle with a broken wing was her favorite position other than missionary, but they didn’t do it terribly often, both generally preferring to see the other when they were together. 

She felt Quinn’s heat before any of his skin, and raised her hips slightly to facilitate him. 

“You’re —” she broke off into a groan as he eased into her again. She was so sensitive, she was fairly certain she would have fallen apart all over again if he had given her an intense enough look. Heat was already climbing up her spine and he hadn't even moved yet. 

His hands appeared near hers as he braced on his forearms. She moved to lace her fingers through his. 

When he began to thrust, he felt her fingers curl until her nails kissed his palms  

Listening to her sweet sounds, he couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to live in her forever.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, chaos sparking all over her skin. “I didn't think I could come this many times so quickly.”

Her hushed statement rushed to his head. “Sarah,” he moaned into her neck. “Fuck, Sarah.” 

His mouth traced the curve of her neck before gently biting the ridge of her shoulder.

The prick of pain from his teeth combined with the way he was hitting her g spot in a steady, continuous rhythm had Sarah’s mouth falling open. “Oh. Quinn,” she moaned. “Just like that. Please don't stop.” 

Feeling out of his mind with pleasure and pride, he rested his forehead on her back.

Only after he felt her tremble and pulse around him and chanting that he loved her, he let himself go, spilling into her with a loud groan he tried to muffle into her skin. 

They stayed that way for a long while, his sweaty chest pressed into her back. He was a comfortable weight, pressing her into the mattress.

Quinn talked himself into moving and eased out, his wince matching the breath she hissed through her teeth. Before he could decide which side to roll onto, she was turning onto her back, and pulling him into her embrace. 

Resting his head on her chest, he sighed. 

Sarah smiled, tired but gratified and pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. She wanted to get up and go to the bathroom, but waited, knowing Quinn needed this extra affection.

“I don't…” he started to say, then trailed off, slowly tracing a circle around her belly button. 

He had never felt supported and loved like he had today. Not only when she just let him cry, but when she reminded him that she loved the things about him that weren't his job. 

Quinn hadn't known how much he needed to hear Sarah’s words until she was saying them. His whole family was so entwined in hockey that, even though he knew his parents loved him, it sometimes felt like his success and failure in the arena were wrapped up in their affection and approval. It was one of the reasons Jack always felt like the favorite child, as he had the most natural talent. 

“You don't?” she urged when he didn’t say anything else.

He shook his head and took a steadying breath. “I feel like I don't deserve you.” 

A little smile played on her lips, “I feel that way sometimes, too, but I'm not really sure it's about deserving. Everyone deserves love.” 

She paused for a long time playing with his hair. It relaxed Quinn, causing him to practically melt into her.

“I'm glad we're both willing to put in the work and try to meet in the middle,” she said quietly.

He agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her breast.

As they stayed that way for a long time, Quinn felt cocooned in her love and hoped she felt the same. 

“Okay,” she said a little while later, starting to feel sticky and itchy, “I’m sorry, but I really need to shower, or at least rinse off.” 

They took a quick shower, and Quinn changed the fitted sheet as she redid her skincare. 

When they finally fell asleep tangled together, she in a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt, and he in his boxers, it was well after three. 

After sleeping like the dead, Quinn woke close to ten, still feeling that strong swell of gratitude easing the disappointment in his chest. 

If anyone in his family had heard them, they were all excellent actors, and didn't say a thing. 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist 

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Sick days || JH86

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Love Lost - Mac Miller, The Temper Trap

Synopsis: Sick days usually aren’t fun. Especially for Jack. He hates them. But you somehow always make it better.

Word count: 1.401

Masterlist

Am I watching the canucks game while writing this? Yes, and stressing over it

When they said that men are always the most dramatic when they catch the common cold, you didn’t believe them. You thought it was an exaggeration. But the way Jack has been acting the past three days? Yeah, it’s not an exaggeration. You’re both curing his cold while nursing your own headache. One that’s been a product of his whining. This man is acting as if he’s on his deathbed, a damsel in distress, a whiny little-. You love him, but you wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of sedating him for a day so that you could get some peace and quiet. You would like to know how Ellen handled him whenever he got sick. It’s almost unbearable.

“Babyyy?”

“Am I dying? It feels like I’m dying.”

“Everything hurts…”

“More medicine? I don’t need it. It’s disgusting.”

“Can you please get me a painkiller? I do need it…”

The need to hit him with a pan to knock him out for a few hours is concerningly high. You’re trying to be patient with him. He’s not feeling well, and not being active, those are things that he hates and you know that. You’re really trying to be patient with him. However, he makes it very hard to when he’s whining every other minute.

You hide yourself in the kitchen to make sure Jack will leave you alone for a minute. You absentmindedly stir canned chicken soup in a small pan. When it starts smoking you take it off the heat and grab a bowl. You pour the soup into the bowl and grab a spoon. You carefully walk to your bedroom with the bowl, a bottle of water, and a pill. You open the door a little wider and walk up to him. He sniffles but manages to crack out a small smile. “There you are. I missed you.” He says softly, making your heart melt. Sick as ever and he still manages to make butterflies flutter. “I was only gone for a minute.” You say gently as you place the bottle and pill on his nightstand. You hold out the bowl of soup. He grimaces at the sight of it. You give him a stern look. “You need to eat something. Otherwise, you won’t get better. And make sure you take a pill after or while you eat.” You can’t help but fuss over him a bit.

He groans in response but takes the bowl from you. He starts eating at a slow pace. You sit by his bedside and watch him eat. Pale, sweaty face, hair pointing in all sorts of directions, and yet he still is so handsome to you. He notices that you’re staring and glances at you. He lets out a raspy chuckle. “There’s nothing noteworthy to stare at right now.” You smile and move his hair out of his face. It’s starting to become a little long again. “There’s plenty to stare at. You’ll always be pretty in my eyes.” His eyes shine at your comment. “Pretty?” He asks with amusement in his voice. You roll your eyes but can’t help but let a grin creep up your face. “Sorry. Handsome.” He smiles triumphantly. “That’s what I thought.”

He soon finishes his bowl of soup. You take it from him and set it aside. You hand him the bottle of water and the small white pill. He takes it from you. You notice how clammy his hands are. You frown as you watch him down the pill followed by big gulps of water. You place the back of your hand against his forehead. Your frown deepens when you feel how warm he still is. He knows better than to fight you back so he lets you do your thing. “Your fever is not letting up. You should get some more rest. That might help.” You say softly. He nods and slides underneath the blankets. He pulls it up to his chin. You gently run a hand through his hair. “I’ll be in the living room. Just holler if you need me.” You say softly. Although, you’re secretly hoping he’ll sleep for a couple of hours. For both of your sakes. “Alright.” He croaks before shutting his eyes. You watch over him until you’re sure he’s fallen asleep. You get up carefully and make your way to the living room.

***

Time passes by quickly when you’re finally able to relax. You check the time on your phone only to realize Jack has been sleeping for a while now. You get up from the couch and quietly walk back towards your bedroom. You peek your head in only to see Jack snoring away without a care in the world. You smile at the sight, happy that he’s getting some rest. You realize that the blanket has slipped down a little. You carefully walk up to him and tuck him back in. You tuck the sides underneath him. Tightly wrapping him up in the blanket. He looks like a burrito. A 5’11 burrito.

You step back and take in the sight. You let out a quiet snicker. You pull out your phone and take a picture. Saving that for later. You look at him one more time before leaving the room and going back to the couch. You throw yourself down onto the couch and look at the picture you’ve taken. You snort. Jack’s going to kill you for sure once he finds out. You send it to the Hughes brothers group chat that Jack has ever so kindly thrown you into.

Another hour passes as you’re peacefully watching something on the television. You laugh at the conversation going on in the group chat. You hear some rustling from the bedroom. You’re about to get up when you hear a hoarse holler. “Baby!” You chuckle, “yeah bub?” He lets out a loud groan. “You did not send that picture in the group chat!” You let out a laugh and make your way towards him. You snicker when you see his phone in his hand. The group chat is still open. “I did. It was way too hilarious to pass up. You were like a burrito. Or should I say a Jackrito? One of a kind.” He pouts at you. “Really? A Jackrito? Was that necessary?” He asks, almost offended by your shenanigans. You snicker. “Yes. It’s funny.” He crosses his arms and huffs. “I don’t find you very amusing right now.” He retorts before he gets into a coughing fit. You pat his back, helping him through it. “You’ll find it amusing when you get better.” He glares at you and shakes his head. He stops coughing. “You’re still in trouble. Don’t forget that, because I certainly won’t.” You let out a snort. “Whatever you say bub.” You look at him affectionately. You suddenly get a great idea. “I should send the picture to your mom.” His eyes widen at what you said. “No!” He exclaims. You burst out into laughter. He huffs and pulls the blanket over him. “I’m glad you are having fun while I’m dying.” You roll your eyes. “Now you’re being dramatic again. For the millionth time, you are not dying Jack. You simply have the common cold.” He lets out a raspy chuckle. He lifts the blanket slightly and pulls you into him. He covers you both with the blanket. “It feels like I’m dying, especially when you aren’t around.” You can’t help but smile at that, despite his theatrics. You can feel yourself getting tired. Even though it isn’t that late yet. The warmth he’s emitting is so comforting. You let yourself fall asleep in his arms.

***

A week later he’s back on his feet. But he transferred his germs to you. You’re as sick as a dog. He walks into your bedroom with a bowl of soup in his hands. “This will make you feel better.” You glare at him. He laughs, “are you still mad at me for getting you sick?” You nod, “what do you think?” He snickers and sets the bowl aside. He sits by your side and rubs your arm tenderly. “I said sorry baby. But…” he trails off. He shows you a cheeky grin. “It’s only the common cold. Don’t be so dramatic. You still want to hit him with a pan. “I hate you.” He rolls his eyes before planting a kiss on your forehead. “I love you too. Get better soon, okay?”

[teddybeartoji]

anyway i want to introduce you all to my Big Cat Husband Household. this is an official thing i love them all. said household includes - black jaguar!toji, snow leopard!satoru, tiger!sukuna, black panther!suguru and mountain lion!tengen.

we all sleep on one bed and that bed is the size of a whole room btw they are massive. tengen and sukuna sleep on their backs while showing off their tummies to the world, satoru is always one move away from falling of the bed, suguru manages to be majestic even when he's asleep he looks like a statue with his paws crossed like that smh (i am jealous of his beauty) and i always end up sleeping under toji's side which means that i am at risk of him just turning over and suffocating me (i love it)

i also can never leave btw. like no bathroom breaks for me whatsoever bc i move an inch and suddenly i'm being yanked back to bed by any one of them and it's so??????????? weren't you just asleep?????????????????? they're all incredibly clingy (i also really love that ngl) oh and i die every summer. bc i am horrible with heat and they're all like HEATERS it's actually so bad and it's not like they really want to let me sleep anywhere else either smhhhhhhhhhh but since they love me<3 they take turns of sleeping with me in the living room instead of the bedroom

satoru also uhh kind of gets bullied by the others but he's genuinely so unbothered by it it's crazy. he also gets special treatment from me bc the others are mean and i am not, i like to baby him sm he gets the most ear scratches while the others glare at him from the other side of the room. satoru thinks it's very funny bc he loves the attention (the others love him too though dw i would actually kick them out if that wasn't the case)

sukuna and tengen tussle the most but it's all for fun they both like playing around a lot,, satoru often joins them too and it's a very entertaining thing to look at lmao toji and suguru typically just stare at them from the couch bc toji is lazy he just wants to lounge around all day and suguru thinks that he's better than the others in a way (?????)

(i also think it's really funny to add housecats dazai and chuuya to this household sometimes bc the idea of dazai and tengen sleeping in a patch of sunlight is so fucking funny,, dazai looks like a fucking twig next to tengen i think if the latter would place a hand over him he might actually break lmao chuuya and toji get along really well though they don't talk a lot but they just feel very comfortable around each other they also take naps together and it's the cutest sight ever)

the tongue baths go insane with them all btw but i won't get into that rn bc i might uhh have a heart attack..

[witch-hazels-musings]

Hey Hazel, 🎱 Anon Here, again.

Wanted to make a second request, hope that's okay.

May I have a Ritual of Protection for Kazuma? Using Jasmine, Lepidolite, Frankincense, and Dalmatian Stone.

Jasmine (love, sensuality), Lepidolite (regulation, stress relief), Frakincense (confidence), Dalmation (loyalty, family) Kazuha x gn reader | Protection Ritual warning: alcohol and drunkenness, reader drinks, drunk Beidou and Kazuha

The laughter around the campfire called to you. How long had it been since you spent an evening resting, relaxing, and recharging? It seemed like there was no end to the constant movement of your life these days but sprinkled in like drying leaves, moments like these managed to find their way.

You slipped into the conversation and took up space next to friendly faces and jovial voices. It was easy. It was always easy with them.

"Waa, you should have seen em!" Beidou boomed, her drink spilling over the rim as she bumped her arm into a nearby shipmate. "Damn near took the whole crew on by themselves. Ain't that right," she added with a wink in your direction.

Ah, it was this story. How was she already this drunk?

"You always conflate this story, Beidou. It was like three people."

"Ho! Selling yourself short again. I don't think any of us could have walked out of that tussle without a few bangs and bruises. And you managed to drop em' all."

"Again, misremembering. I'm pretty sure the only reason I managed to get us out of these with all our faces intact was because I, kindly, explained to them it was more in their favor to leave."

"And then what happened," she said, smirking.

"They didn't listen so I showed them-"

"Aha!"

"BUT, they were way more plastered than you are, so it was hardly a fight. You love bringing this up." You chuckled and took a swig of your own liquor. It was sharp, heavy, and made your nose tickle.

If there was anything a pirate was good at, it was drinking - good, strong wine.

The group picked back up and you let Beidou fade back into her favorite stories. She went around the group as if to live through each of her crewmate's old tales with a fondness only she could bring. You didn't mind, no one really did. It was the opposite in fact. It seemed to boost the morale of the crew, each person getting their own spotlight. Though some enjoyed it most.

Something bumped into your back, jostled your drink. You reacted just in time to catch a stumbling Kazuha who looked more like a wet tunic than a person.

"What happened to you?"

He swallowed, caught his breath before beaming up at you. His cheeks were as rich as the kimono half-draped around his body. "As the sake warms, I am rich in its flavor. Bitter regret forms."

You burst into laughter. "You're so drunk!"

"I am," he agreed with a nod that twisted his face. You adjusted so you could prop his head up with your leg. He smiled and rubbed his face against it.

"How did this happen?"

He thought for a moment. "I remember being over there."

"Uhuh, and then what happened?"

"I am ... now I am here."

"Great. Good job," you teased. It was a rare sight to see Kazuha this intoxicated. Normally he could hold his liquor well, far better than you. Someone really must have worked hard to get him to this level. But you were happy for him. He needed to relax, let go for a time. And you'd be here to help him in the morning.

He grinned, wide and pleasing. You turned to the fire but Kazuha drew you back by sliding his arm over your lap. He adjusted so his head was on your thigh and his arms could wrap comfortably around you. And he stared. Stared up at you in a way that made your heart flutter.

"Firelight flickers. Dancing caresses on skin. I am jealous of its touch."

You counted in your head. "Wait, does that count as a haiku?" you asked.

"Perhaps not, yet the sentiment remains." Kazuha reached up to your face and let the back of his fingers caress your skin. "You're pretty."

Heat bloomed in your cheeks so you tried to hide them by cupping his palm to you. His skin was warm, hot, perfect. "You're pretty, too," you told him.

"Be mine?"

An endearing smile tugged at your lips. You leaned down toward him and he stretched to meet you. You could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"What if I told you I already was?" you asked as you held his chin.

"Then seal my lips so I may know it true."

You kissed him beside the crackling fire, surrounded by bonds tighter than family, and shared in each other's love to the backdrop of ruckus and revelry.

Thaumaturgy Anthology (October 11-13, 2024)

This event is based on spells and rituals. Inspiration does not equal understanding; liberties have been taken. All content is owned by Witch Hazels Musings, theft of these images and stories will result in immediate action.

[artistinquestion]

The Empress of Rome

Part Two

Emperor Geta x OC

Warnings: pregnancy, slight verbal abuse

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: after waking alone, the empress defies her bedrest orders to wander the gardens meeting with her mother in law and friend before she once again finds herself in trouble with her husband, the emperor Geta.

Author's Note: idk how long I'm supposed to wait between posting updates! I planned on doing every other day, but yesterday I was busy with life stuff! Thank you so much for enjoying part one! You gave me confidence to keep working on writing and posting the coming parts of my fic! this part is a bit longer than the first part, that's just how the parts ended up dividing up. Thanks again for reading!

Upon waking in the morning, the empress found herself alone in her bed. Not unusual since she was put on bedrest, most mornings she woke alone. Geta having gone off to fulfill his duties as emperor with his brother.

There were mornings, however, where Cassia would wake to the sounds of hushed whispers and her husband's hands on her stomach, moments where Geta was soft when addressing their unborn child in the womb. Those were times when Cassia knew not to disturb him. She would occasionally run her fingers through his short golden orange hair and let him be, let him speak words to her stomach in hopes their child could hear and understand. She liked those mornings.

Slowly Cassia rose from her bed, pushing herself up til she was sitting with her back against the headboard. With a yawn and a stretch, she called for her servants to help her get ready for the day ahead. Doing her best to keep her worries at bay and forget the dreams that plagued her at night.

The servants always seemed so nervous around her, scared to misstep and do something to inflict the anger of the emperor upon them. Cassia always tried to soothe her servants worried minds, but she knew all too well the threat of death hung over anyone's head who crossed her husband's path.

This morning the servants were just as timid as they attended their empress, seemingly scared to let her rise from her bed.

"Augusta, the physician said you were to be on bedrest" a servant spoke up, two of them at Cassia’s sides taking her hands as she tried to rise from the bed.

"I know well what the physician said, and I am getting out of bed" Cassia stated, a slight irritation in her tone, tired of being condemned to a bed.

"But Augusta, the emperor stated-"

Cassia was quick to cut off the servants thought "I know what the emperor has stated, but I am not staying in bed on this day. I am restless, I need to walk." Cassia stated firmly. Very rarely was she ever sharp with the servants, but she had grown tired of being told what she could and could not do.

Reluctantly, the servants bowed their heads in submission to their empress’s demand, struggling with the idea of disobeying both the physician and the emperor’s orders. However, they also knew better than to question the will of their empress. With careful steps, they began readying Cassia for the day.

Cassia knew she had limits to her mobility in her state, but regardless she would be getting around Palatine today. To ease the worries of her servants she again would only stray as far as the gardens, attended by her guards as her husband requested.

As Cassia made her way through the same halls she traversed that night before, she made her way towards the gardens once again. The one place she could seemingly find peace. The sounds of birds chirping in the cool morning air filled her ears, she took a deep breath as she tried to clear her mind once again. As the sun rose higher in the sky, so came the heat of the day.

Cassia had managed to make her way to the gardens, only to stumble upon her mother in law and another highborn woman she knew well, also standing in the garden. Making her way over, both women gave a slight bow of acknowledgment towards their empress.

"Good morning, Augusta" Lucilla greeted, followed by Julia, the mother of the emperors.

"I didn't expect to see you up and out today, you're looking well" Julia spoke towards her daughter in law.

Cassia gave a tight lipped smile as she approached the two women, one hand on the small of her back as her belly weighed heavy on her body.

"Good morning to you both.” She greeted “I have grown restless being cooped up in my chambers. I've tried to manage taking walks through the garden atleast once a day to keep myself occupied" Cassia responded.

Both women nodded in understanding, they had been witness to Cassia’s growing frustration due to being confined to her chambers as of late. They knew that the physician had ordered the empress remain on bedrest just to be safe, Cassia’s pregnancy having come with a handful of complications in the past months. But they understood her restlessness. Both being mothers, they knew well the trials and tribulations of pregnancy, especially a royal one, so they greatly understood what made Cassia wander.

"You will be a mother soon enough, should be any day now shouldn't it?" Lucilla asked, striking a conversation with the young empress.

“Yes Lucilla, it could be any day now” she tried to smile even though the thought scared her to death. Cassia paused for a moment, looking around at the garden surrounding them before adding “I only hope that our child will be born healthy and strong”

The three women then fell into a comfortable silence, each soaking up the warmth of the sun on their skin. Taking in a deep breath of fresh air Cassia sighed before going to speak again.

“It is a beautiful day, is it not?" Cassia hummed, the two older women nodding in agreement.

"It is beautiful weather" Julia replied, moving closer to push a strand of blonde hair from Cassia’s shoulder "you're glowing, ever the picture of a mother" she complimented her dear daughter in law.

Cassia smiled "thank you," she muttered.

As the three women conversed, each taking a seat out in the middle of the garden, everything seemed peaceful as the heat started to rise.

As the sun shined brightly over the palace gardens, the three woman once again settled into a comfortable silence, enjoying the calm before the storm of court life.

Suddenly, a visibly anxious servant rushed over, their eyes darting around nervously as they went to address the empress.

“Augusta, the physician has come to your chambers to check on you. He says you must return to your chambers immediately”

Feeling the women’s eyes upon her expectantly, Cassia let out a sigh.

"I am fine, the fresh air is doing me good. It is important that I stretch my legs out. Tell the physician I will meet with him later" she retorted, not even sparing the servant a glance as she tried to maintain what peace she had began to relax in.

Tension quickly rose amongst the women and the servant then. Julia glanced over towards her daughter in law with a look of concern.

“Perhaps it would be best if we heeded the physician’s words for now. It would be for the best if you returned to your chambers and rested, let the physician look over you.” The older woman advised politely.

Cassia gave another heavy sigh "I swear I am fine, I just want one moment of peace outside, away from my chambers" she stated.

The feeling of eyes boring into her soul suddenly catching the empress’s attention. Looking over at her mother in law, Cassia saw her attention was focused on the balcony looking over the garden. There Cassia saw her husband staring down at the three women, glaring directly at his wife.

Cassia let out a breath of frustration, knowing she was once again in trouble with her husband.

"Perhaps you're right," she sighed, reaching her hands out for the servant to help her stand. Turning towards the two older women before she departed "we will talk another time" she stated, once again forcing a smile on her face. The two giving a sympathetic smile and a nod in return before Cassia was lead off by the servant.

As the servant lead Cassia back to her chambers, accompanied by her usual servants and guards, all couldn’t help but feel the tension growing in the air. The emperor was once again unhappy with his wife’s behavior, her disobedience at the simplest of orders. All Cassia wanted was just a single moment of peace, but it seemed that small bit of peace often followed with a good tongue lashing from her husband, ever disapproving of her attempts to dodge the physicians orders as of late. It wouldn't be long til he barricaded her in, she suspects.

As they neared her chambers, Cassia tried to prepare for the coming confrontation with her husband. She had known her disregard for the physician’s orders would have angered him, but she at least felt some sense of relief having briefly escaped her confinement.

Whatever her husband would have to say, she has heard it before. He probably grew tired of repeatedly confronting her for her disobedience, which would only anger him further. Cassia never truly tried to anger her husband, his anger was not a pretty sight, but as of late she couldn't help but wander to escape the feeling of being trapped or confined to a small space. She had spent most of her times wandering through Palatine and the gardens before she fell pregnant, she hadn't expected to stop.

Stood at the doors to her chambers, Cassia could hear the loud voice of her husband as he took out his anger on the physician inside. Feeling a sense of dread wash over her, knowing she was in trouble. The guards pushed open the doors to the empress’s chambers, revealing her husband pacing angrily about the room.

Cassia tried to remain stoic as she entered the room, the physician immediately turning his attention towards the pregnant empress.

"Augusta, please have a seat, lie down please. You mustn't be up and about like this!" The physician worried aloud, no doubt worried that the emperor would take his anger out on him further for her disobedience.

Cassia held her hands up to try and stop and calm the doctor, but she caught the glare of her husband before she could even speak a word against his worries. Sighing, the empress let a servant and the physician help her back into bed, placing pillows behind her back so she could atleast sit up.

"I was just getting some fresh air, stretching my legs. Both things are good for me to do" Cassia started her argument.

“The physician’s orders are for your own good, wife” Geta interrupted sharply, his voice harsh with a glare to match. “I will not risk the health of my heir because of your recklessness. You are to be confined to your chambers until further notice.”

Cassia opened her mouth to argue but quickly shut it when she caught the sharpness of her husband's glare. He was furious. She sat back, arms crossed over her chest as she pouted like a child, unhappy with her husband's demands.

The physician moved the fabric of the empress's dress upwards to expose her stomach to him before he began examining her. Cassia avoiding eye contact as she felt her husband's eyes boring into the side of her head once again, as the physician's hands touched her stomach.

“Augusta, I must insist that you remain confined to these chambers” the physician advised firmly in agreement with the emperor’s orders. His nervousness in their presence visible in the way his hands shook ever so slightly. “Your health and that of the child are of utmost importance” he reaffirmed as he took her pulse, as well as her temperature making notes on his scroll.

"You two act as though I am intentionally trying to harm my child, I am not. I am simply trying to maintain my own sanity and wellbeing while carrying this child." Cassia spoke up again, irritated by both men in the room. Neither of them would ever know what it was like carrying a child and yet they act as though they know what's best, better than she does.

“That is enough out of you, woman!” Geta snapped, his patience having run thin. “You will do as you are told and will remain here until I see fit to release you. Is that clear?” He glared at her, daring her to argue further.

Both Cassia and the physician flinched when they heard her husband's raised voice. She looked away once again, huffing out a breath as she looked out the balcony of her chambers, missing her freedom already.

"Fine," she uttered almost silently.

The physician then put his ear to her stomach, listening for the heartbeat of the unborn child. After a moment of intense focus, the physician smiled nervously before assuring the health of the child. “The child’s heartbeat is strong, Augusta. Imperator. Your child is healthy.” The old man gently patted Cassia on the shoulder in reassurance, giving a bow towards the emperor and his wife before quickly leaving the room, his duty done for the time being.

Cassia tensed as soon as the doors shut, a small feeling of worry rising inside her as she was left with her violent and erratic husband. He hadn't raised a hand to her since she's been with child, but she didn't know for sure he wouldn't harm her now given how far she had pushed him.

The tension in the room only grew as Cassia couldn’t help but notice the way Geta’s dark eyes narrowed when she refused to obey his orders. He made it very clear that he was becoming increasingly frustrated with her defiance. She tried to remain unaffected looking out towards the balcony, but she knew he was just waiting for her to speak up in defiance again.

"Healthy. Did you hear what the physician said? Our child is healthy," Cassia tried to reason, to calm the fire that was no doubt already blazing inside her husband's mind.

Geta’s gaze shifted towards his wife “yes, I heard. But that does not change the fact that you continually put both your health and the health of my heir in danger with your disobedience.” His voice was cold, devoid of all emotions aside from anger.

"I simply wanted to move, to not be confined to a bed to rot whilst waiting for the inevitable to happen. This babe will come when it's ready, I do not wish to be made to sit around and wait! All I have been doing is for my health and for the benefit of our child!" Cassia argued, knowing full well she was stoking the fire inside of him by arguing her point. "But now you have your way, I am confined to my room, my liege," she hissed.

Geta’s eyes narrowed once again, his face tightening into a scowl.

“Your insolence is unbecoming, wife. I had thought you smarter than this, but you will learn to obey my commands, even if it means enduring discomfort for a short while” he spat, irritated by her continued defiance.

True, she hadn't acted up against him until recently, she had always obeyed and played along even when he struck her. She obeyed and played the part as was her duty to her husband and to Rome.

Cassia sighed in defeat, she could practically feel the tension rising even higher in the air surrounding them. She knew that attempting to argue further would only worsen the situation, so she remained silent. As much as she hated being confined to her chambers, unable to move freely, she also knew that the consequences of disobeying her husband’s orders would only intensify the further she pushed.

The emperor rounded the bed, moving to her bedside as she tried to ignore his presence. Cassia flinching slightly as she felt a hand on her skin, her husband's calloused hand now feeling the expanse of her rounded stomach, feeling where their unborn child lay. His heir.

“Our child is strong.” Cassia spoke quietly, hoping to appease her husband. “They will grow up to be a fine ruler, just like you, my husband” she stole a quick glance at him, watching as his eyes focused on her middle.

Geta remained silent, his eyes briefly looking to his wife before returning their attention to his unborn child.

As dangerous as it was being alone with the emperor, private moments like this were also when he would show that side not a soul in Rome got to see. One that Geta would actively deny if ever she brought it up.

The emperor then knelt by her bedside, lowering his forehead til it touched the skin of her protruding stomach, silent. His eyes closed, remaining in that position as he felt the subtle movement of their unborn child beneath her skin.

Geta remained that way for only a moment longer before he rose to his feet, turning away from Cassia and walking away without another word, leaving her chambers. Cassia let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she had been holding, her heart still pounding from the confrontation with her husband. For now, she would rest.

[robinette-green]

Astrological Bullets

They tell you that blood is thicker than water, but I disagree. If I never see my brother again, it’ll be too soon. Not that I’ll ever get the chance. I’ve been tied to these railroad tracks for a few hours now, patiently waiting for a train to end it all. With the blindfold over my eyes, it’s hard to tell what time of day it is, but with the heat radiating off the metal underneath me, I knew the sun must be high in the sky. If a train didn’t end it, heat stroke or dehydration most certainly would.

When I heard the horse, at first, I thought that the heat had started to bring me hallucinations. It was odd. I had assumed that heat visions were just that, visual. The sound of steam being released into the air made me certain that I was firm in the grips of the desert madness until he spoke.

“You seem to be in a bit of a bind. Normally, I’d mind my business, but curiosity has gotten the better of me. What could a lovely lady like yourself have done to warrant being tied to these tracks?” There was an actual person… wild. What was releasing steam? Maybe I am hallucinating.

Licking my lips in a vain attempt to wet them, I tried to say something but had to stop and clear my throat. The sand and dry air had already done a number on me.

“I’d love to tell you… If you would be kind enough to untie me.” I could hear the man kneel down by my head, his shadow falling over me, blocking out some of the direct heat from the sun.

“I think I should hear your story first. You may be tied up for a good reason. I don’t want to go releasing you if you deserve to be where you’ve gotten yourself.”

I released a long, weary sigh.

“It’s simple, really,” I said with as much of a shrug as I could manage while tied to wood and steel.

“My brother owes Mr. Madison money.”

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with your current situation, lass.”

“Mr. Madison’s goons apprehended me early this morning. Either my bother gives him the money, or I’m left out here to meet whichever fate finds me first.”

“And seeing as you’re still here, I’m guessing that your bother hasn’t found a way to pay this, Mr. Madison, his money.”

I rolled my head, partly in exasperation and partially to relieve some of the ache from my neck. Being tied to railroad tracks is rather uncomfortable.

“He’s managed to do less than try. He was out here a few hours ago. Said this was the least I could do for him. Dying to rid him of his debts.” Turning my head to the side, I would have spat in anger, but my mouth was much too dry. I scowled instead, teeth grinding together.

“I hope his sorry ass is disembodied by a bull.”

“We may be able to arrange that.” The man said with a chuckle before leaning over me. Fingers brushed against my face, following the edges of the blindfold back behind my head so it could be removed. I blinked in the sudden light, squinting up at the dark figure blotting out the sun. There was a hat atop his head, but coming from the sides of his face, there seemed to be metal points. In fact, the longer I looked up at him, the more he seemed to be made of metal. Blue eyes glowed down at me as he watched for my reaction, a slight smile playing across his lips.

Pulling a knife from a boot, the man leaned over and sliced the ropes holding me down. Fingers took mine, and he helped me to sit up, a hand going to the small of my back to keep me steady as spots appeared in my vision and the world seemed to swirl around me.

“Careful there, darling. Heat’s already done a number on you.”

A canteen of water was carefully pressed to my lips, and I drank greedily, one of my hands gripping his wrist to keep myself steady.

“Thank you,” I murmured, leaning heavily against this metal man.

[onceonafullmoon]

Happy Accidents

Sae x GN! Reader

Part 2 to Misunderstandings

No warnings, after school fluff, takes place before Spain. First date (kinda), Reader is GN but is described as being shorter than Sae and wearing ribbons in their hair. Reader is kinda a anxious mess. NGL this was kinda a pain to get thru, Suki and Naomi are my babies il them T^T

“So, uh… what’s… your favorite color?” You ask, before immediately scrunching up your eyes in disgust of how awkward that was. “...seriously?” His response isn’t exactly uncalled for, but you can’t help but pout anyways.

What does one do when they’ve accidentally scored a date with one of the most infamous boys at school?

Cry? Scream? Die on the spot? Everything listed before, all at once?

Well, first, before all of that, you tell your beloved friends in hope for advice or a comforting shoulder.

And instead you get relentlessly teased (Naomi) and interrogated (Suki).

“Oh my god, you’re so stupid.” Naomi cackles like a witch from your desk chair, wiping tears from her eyes (okay it wasn’t that funny). “Who the fuck says “thanks you too” when someone tells them they’re cute?”

“Nuhh– nice people?” You say trying to defend yourself, although it comes out as more of a question.

This sends Naomi into another laughing fit, making you grab one of your pillows and hurl it at her, scowling when she easily catches it and continues to laugh at you, now grumpy that you missed her and that you’re pillowless.

“Oh, stop it already you clown.” Suki scolds Naomi from where she’s sprawled on your bed, head tilting up to shake her head disapprovingly at the dark haired girl.

“Thank you Suki.” You say, flashing her a grateful smile, only to yelp when she suddenly flips around, looking at you with an intensely excited look in her eyes.

“Was his voice hot?” She eagerly questions, leaning in to hear your answer.

“Suki!” You squawk, feeling your face heat up. “What kinda question–?!”

Naomi snorts. “Oh, but I’m the clown, got it.”

“It’s an important question, thank you very much, we’re talking about our beloved (Name)’s partner here!” She pouts indignantly, ignoring the choked noise of surprise you make at her words.

“Yeah, no, I don’t approve of him either way. That kid has an attitude problem and (Name) deserves better.” Naomi scoffs.

“Oh, who would you approve of then? Fucking Maruki?”

“Yes, I would, and that’s Dr. Maruki to you, you bitch–”

You finally manage to find your voice during their mini squabble and snap in embarrassment. 

“I don’t need either of you to approve! That doesn’t matter anyways!” You exclaim. “I am not dating Itoshi Sae!”

Your brother pops his head into your room at this very inopportune time, and looks at you in shock.

“(Name) you’re dating Itoshi Sae?” He asks.

“Yes!” Suki squeals.

“Unfortunately.” Naomi sighs.

“No!” You snap, glaring at your friends before turning to him. “What are you doing here anyways?”

“I was just gonna ask you if I could have the last bag of chips.” He answers.

“Yeah, whatever, go for it.” You sigh.

“Cool, congrats on bagging a future pro athlete, I expect to see some money too.” He responds, leaving just as quickly as he came.

“You wouldn’t see anything even if we were dating!” You call out after him, both annoyed and flustered by his words.

Sighing you turn to your friends, who look at you somewhat expectantly.

“What?”

“I mean, I know I said I didn’t approve… but if he does happen to get rich…” Naomi trails off, as Suki eagerly nods.

“You materialistic jerks, what about his feelings?” You question, only to receive giggles from Suki.

“Interesting that you didn’t bring up your feelings.” She teases, making you startle in embarrassment. “Besides, I have a pretty good feeling, he wouldn’t mind spoiling you.”

Naomi laughs at this. “You’re making him sound like a sugar daddy.”

“Could be.” Suki innocently says, despite the smirk on her face.

“No! No sugar daddies!” You exclaim, face burning. “It’s an equal relationship!”

“Aha, so it is a relationship!” Suki grins victoriously.

“No! You know what I meant you ass!”

“Did we?” Naomi questions with a grin.

You let out a groan. “Don’t team up on me! I need help, not mockery.” 

“You got it boss.” Suki salutes mockingly before hopping off your bed to rummage through your closet. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you a first date fit that’ll have him drooling over you as soon as he sees you.”

You give her a blank stare, the thought of Sae drooling over anyone sounding so unrealistic you can’t even begin to imagine it.

Naomi must share these sentiments with the way she rolls her eyes at Suki, at least, that's what you think until she opens her mouth.

“If you want him to drool, just make sure (Name) shows up naked.”

This time when you hurl a pillow at her it hits her square in the face.

Suki snickers both at the remark and the price that Naomi paid for it, watching as you proceed to pick up said pillow and proceed to beat Naomi with it in a flustered rage, much to her misfortune as she lets out muffled yelps.

“Unfortunately, public indecency is a crime Naomi, so I think we’ll do it my way.” Suki hums.

“That’s the only reason?!” You ask, alarmed, finally letting up on your attempt to murder your friend with a comforter.

“Of course not!” Suki reassures. “It’s also because I want to dress you up.”

You look down at the fluffy weapon in your hands and briefly consider changing targets before remembering that Suki would actually murder you for messing up her hair.

“...well, not that I don’t appreciate the help Suki, but when I asked for help, I meant how I should act.”

Naomi leans back on the chair, already recovered from the attempt on her life, and looks at you incredulously. 

“Just act like you always do, duh.” She states, as if obvious.

“...” You blink, taking in the advice before shaking your head. “That’s not– I mean, I’m just gonna make a fool of myself again.”

Suki pauses in her closet rifling to look back over at you.

“...You know (Name), we’re teasing you a lot, but this situation isn’t as bad as you think it is. It’s normal to embarrass yourself every once in a while.” Suki says soothingly.

“Yeah, you would know.” Naomi snorts, to which Suki shoots her a withering glare, making her backtrack. “I mean– yeah, Suki’s right. Besides, if you were to act differently, what’s the guarantee that you’d be able to keep it up? It’s better to just be yourself.”

“... I guess you guys have a point.” You concede, giving them both a small smile.

“Good, because I’m pretty sure the fact that you’re a walking L is endearing to him.” Naomi adds cheerfully, yelping as you swing your pillow down on her again.

Suki hums turning back to your closet as the sounds of Naomi’s muffled protests sound in the background. 

“Oooh, that top is cute.”

—

When you finally show up at his practice it’s halfway through being finished, and you feel a spark of guilt run through you, threading through the waves of anxiety already ebbing and flowing within.

You probably could have made it when practice actually started had Suki not insisted on spontaneously starting the most difficult hairdo known to man.

“No, trust me, this is gonna look so cute, I swear.” She mutters, yanking your hair. 

“There’s no point if it’s over by the time you’re finished!” You snap back.

In the end, she somehow did it, and it did look very pretty, especially with your signature ribbon tied around it, but you couldn’t help feeling slightly salty about it, regretting that you missed watching Sae play, even if only for a little bit.

…Not that it mattered anyways since now you were starting to feel the familiar sensation of nervousness well up within you.

“Breath, just breath, it's fine.” You mutter to yourself as you take a seat on the bleachers, trying to be as unintrusive as possible. 

Well, you say unintrusive, but what you really mean is unseen, feeling embarrassed about both being seen all dressed up and being seen by Sae in general.

And if you were a luckier person, you would’ve remained unseen for the rest of the practice, only until it was over and you would only have to bite the bullet of being seen by Sae.

But, you weren’t a lucky person, and as you had once thought before, the gods personally had it out for you, so instead, while you’re busy running through breathing exercises and overthinking, you immediately get pointed out by one of the players while they’re getting ready to leave.

Hirose, who sits in a few of your classes, isn’t quite a friend, but is fun to talk to with his friendly and extraverted nature. Unfortunately, due to that very nature, he is loud and never knows how to use his inside voice. 

So, essentially, what’s supposed to be a casual compliment, turns into a spotlight aimed directly at you.

“Damn, (Name), looking good!” He practically yells out.

Immediately, you feel almost everyone's attention shift towards you, and you feel yourself wanting to melt into the ground, cheeks heating up to a temperature almost feverish.

“Damn you Hirose!” You curse in your head, as you send him an awkward smile, praying that Sae just so happened to be distracted by literally anything else instead of you, despite the fact that most of the guys on the field are now starting to murmur to each other (most definitely about you, in a hopefully non-negative way).

He’s not, obviously and unfortunately, and when you look over at him, his teal eyes slowly taking in your figure, you can feel your soul slip out of your body.

“What’re you all dressed up for?” Hirose loudly asks with an oblivious smile, not quite understanding the fact that he’s drawing attention to you, much less the fact that you’re dying of embarrassment because of it.

You hesitate to answer, not quite wanting to say that you’re going on a date with Sae in worry that he’d take offense to having his personal affairs aired out like that (also because even still you could hardly believe he wanted to go out with you), but to your surprise, Sae ends up talking for you.

“They’re with me.” He states, simply, making you look at him in shock, as does everyone else on the field, albeit probably for different reasons.

Hirose openly gapes for a second, before turning to you in shock. “For real?!”

“...Well– yes.” You respond, figuring that there’s no reason in denying it, slightly confused that he’s confirming it with you rather than Sae, feeling that if anyone would lie about being in a relationship, (would this be considered that yet?) it would be you.

What you also aren’t expecting is for Hirose to give you an enthusiastic high five and a conspiratorial whisper to “run his pockets clean (Name)!” to which your cheeks flush in mortification.

(Seriously, what was with the running insistence of you being a gold digger?... or a future gold digger at the very least?)

Either way, the commotion dies down for the most part after a while, although you can’t help but dread returning to school knowing that this was going to be widespread knowledge soon enough… especially knowing Hirose.

Not that you have much time to worry about that anyways when you make your way off of the bleachers over to your supposed date (though, was calling it a “date” overstepping?). But Sae surprises you when he holds out his hand to help you off of them.

Obviously you accept his hand, and obviously it proves to be your downfall (literally) when as you reach for it your shoe hits the support beam on the seat and you end up tripping right into his arms.

“...You’re really clumsy.” He remarks coolly, effortlessly maneuvering you safely onto the ground with strength that leaves you briefly awed.

It’s the first thing that he’s directly said to you so far and you can’t help the flustered look that overtakes your face.

“I–I’m usually not.” You manage to say, mentally recalling how you effortlessly beat Naomi within an inch of her life with a pillow despite her attempts to run.

“So, it's just me then?” He asks, the teasing tone in his voice sending your cheeks on fire.

You decline to comment on that, but Sae doesn’t seem to mind, instead gently grasping your hand in his, (much to your shock) as he begins to lead you to the ice cream shop.

When you slightly stumble (because of course) he sends you a smirk that has you simultaneously wanting to die (usual) as well as the urge to trip him (new!). 

You don’t act on either impulse though, particularly the last one as you see the hint of the affectionate gleam in his eye.

The walk is relatively quiet for the most part, neither of you really being big talkers, but even still you can’t help but feel the familiar tinge of curiosity as you look at him, wanting to know a bit more about him.

“So, uh… what’s… your favorite color?” You ask, before immediately scrunching up your eyes in disgust of how awkward that was.

“...seriously?”

His response isn’t exactly uncalled for, but you can’t help but pout anyways.

“Listen, you try being in my shoes, this is hard.”

“Didn’t seem hard when you wrote that letter.”

You want to laugh at his remark, for many reasons that you’re not quite sure how to explain to him just yet, so instead you shift gears.

“Speaking of, how much of that did you read?”

He gives you his signature poker face, but the twinkle of amusement in his eyes has you regretting asking.

“Not too far, just enough to get to the part about the “shimmering teal” of my pupils that “sends your heart racing”, supposedly.”

You’re not sure if you want to curse out Suki for her fixation on physical appearance or punch yourself for your penchant for melodrama, but you have enough hatred within you to do both.

 “...is that so?” You question in a voice distinctly higher than your usual pitch.

He doesn’t even attempt to hold back the breathy laugh that escapes him.

“God, you’re cute.”

It’s a miracle that no one has notified the local fire department of the burning embarrassment that’s raging within you, strong enough to probably burn down half the neighborhood had it been able to escape from the confines of your cheeks.

At least this time you didn’t say “you too.”

“Is it fun for you? Torturing me?” You question rather bitterly.

“Most people would love to be “tortured”, as you say.” He says, more so matter of factly than arrogantly, but it still makes you raise a brow.

“..so why me?” You can’t help but ask.

He turns his head towards you, face unreadable like normal, which is still as intimidating as it was before he asked you out, and reaches his hand out to poke you in the forehead, to which you scrunch up your face on instinct.

“‘Told you already… you’re cute.”

“So are “most people” who approach you!” You protest, despite your face flushing.

“Maybe they were.” He says nonchalantly. “But I have my reasons.”

“Which are…?” 

He looks at you, seemingly considering, and you almost lean in to hear him speak, until he replies.

“... I’ll tell you next time.”

You gape at him slightly, both annoyed that he just curveballed you and flattered that he wanted to go out with you again.

“You’re too good at this.” You complain as you see the building of the ice cream shop.

“Or you’re just too receptive to me.” He shoots back, seemingly relishing in the way you stumble through the conversation.

“N–not to you, to everyone.” 

“Sure.” He replies, rather generously, dropping the subject in favor of grabbing onto the front door to the shop instead, allowing you to enter first as he holds it open for you.

The interior of the shop is actually rather cute, vintage in an American 50’s diner way, complete with the checkered floors, bright colors and non-functioning jukebox sitting in the corner collecting dust from its underutilization.  

“Thank you… and wow.” You whisper as you come inside, Sae trailing in after you. “This is so cool…”

“I had a feeling you’d like it.” He says, and you can’t help the smile that slides on your face when he says that.

“I didn’t realize you were so thoughtful.” 

“Probably because you were too busy getting lost in my shimmering–”

“Anyways! Is that ice cream? I love ice cream!” You fluster, moving over to stare at the glass counter and examine the flavors.

He laughs, and you can’t help but flush despite yourself, the low pitch of his voice sending your heart racing.

You elect to ignore him in favor of cooling your heated cheeks, stammering out your order to the amused older woman who looks fondly on the two of you, Sae following with his order close behind.

When he pulls out his wallet to pay however, you panic, voicing your objections.

“Wait, you don’t have to pay for me!” You protest.

“Aren’t you supposed to be running my pockets clean?”

He asks, raising a brow, ignoring your protests and handing over his yen to the cashier without a second thought.

“That’s not– I mean, I didn’t say–” 

“Besides,” He cuts your stuttering off smoothly. “I asked you out first, so it's only fair.”

“Then I’m paying for the next one.” You say determinedly before realizing what you’ve just implied, your face flushing yet again.

The lady behind the counter coughs in an attempt to cover up her laugh, but you can already feel a steam of embarrassment burst out your ears.

Sae just shoots you a smirk, smug that you’ve walked straight into his trap and you, for the first time, send him a glare, the type you would send Naomi.

To his credit, despite you not wanting to give him any, he takes it like a champ and the smug look stays on his face even through both of you receiving your orders and taking a seat.

You can’t help but perk up at the sight of your ice cream, a happy smile lighting up your face as you take a bite, an enthusiastic hum escaping your lips.

Although, you’re quick to stop your antics when you notice him eying you amusedly, deciding to avert your eyes to the table and act like a sane, rational human being.

“Don’t stop on my account.” He says, to which you shake your head, flustered.

“...stop looking at me and I’ll consider.”

“Easier said than done.” He remarks, to which you feel your cheeks warming.

��...you don’t need to exaggerate.” You murmur, taking another bite of your ice cream.

“I wouldn’t in the first place.” He says stoically. “You look good.”

Your heart excuses itself from its usual job pumping your blood to do an enthusiastic tap dance routine, complete with a hat tip and a cane pop.

“...too good.” He murmurs to himself, not noticing your flustered face. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You question, moving past your own embarrassment.

He shakes his head, taking a bite of his ice cream. “Nothing, just dumb jocks.”

You raise a brow at him to which he scoffs, understanding your insinuation.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.” You say innocently before switching the topic to his earlier words. “Did your teammates do something?”

He sits there silently for a second swallowing his bite of ice cream before speaking. 

“They’re just… annoying; they need to keep their mouths shut.”

“Yeah? Did they say something about me?” You press slightly, both curious about what his teammates could have said to set him off as well as slightly insecure.

“...it’s not that they were talking badly about you.” He says, in what seems to be an attempt to comfort you. “It’s just…”

He trails off and you look at him, a hint of an idea on your mind on what he’s trying to get at, but you’re not sure if you have the confidence to actually say it.

“It’s fine…” You say, shooting him a reassuring smile. “I think I get it.”

“Do you?” He asks disbelievingly, but lets a small smile slip on his face. “...I’ll say that you definitely caught their attention.”

“That sounds even more anxiety including.” You reply with a small laugh.

“I’ll put it this way then.” Sae says, leaning in slightly, and you can catch the way the sunlight hits his eyes. “You caught my attention.” 

A warm feeling stirs up within you, and you have to fight to hide the flustered smile that threatens to break on your face.

“...you caught mine too.” You end up saying instead, watching as he blinks, the light hitting his lower lashes like sparkles.

A moment of silence settles around you both, although it doesn’t feel uncomfortable, only for it to burst so delicately as Sae opens his mouth again.

“Yeah I know.” He says, a smirk creeping up on his lips as he looks at you. “Something about how my blush red hair reminds you of roses–”

“Okay! That’s enough of that!” You fluster, panicked.

The conversation continues from there, ebbing and flowing in a way you would have never thought when tasked with the daunting prospect of talking to Itoshi Sae and you discover a few new sides to him too.

One that he’s awfully fond of his younger brother, two, he’s a bit of a sore loser, especially when it comes to tiny things and three, that he’s a lot more caring than you originally had him pegged for.

And after a few hours when the conversation comes to a comfortable lull you both leave the shop, you with the flustered knowledge of your newfound infatuation and him with a considerably more relaxed demeanor than when the date started.

“Should I walk you home?” He offers breezily, to which you shake your head vehemently a grimace pulling on your features.

“Don’t worry about it.” You say. “I don’t need you meeting my brother and having him embarrass me.” 

“You seem to do that enough on your own.” He points out, to which you shoot him a glare.

“And who’s the guy who likes me despite that?” You shoot back, to which he smirks.

“Me obviously.” He says, a hint of pride in his tone that leaves you feeling warm inside despite your want to stay annoyed with him.

You feel a smile pull on your lips as you turn to him with a sincere tone in your voice. “...I had a good time today, thanks for taking me here.”

He’s slightly taken aback by your shift in tone, and an unfamiliar flush blooms on his face, something that leaves you equal parts amused and amazed.

“...I wouldn’t mind doing this again.” He eventually says.

You have half a mind to tease him, but decided with the way the universe hates you that you should keep your mouth shut in fear of the wrathful vengeance of karma.

“Me neither.” You say instead, giving him a small smile, hesitating for a while before hopping on your tiptoes and planting a kiss on his cheek.

His face turns an interesting shade of pink at the gesture and you can’t help but laugh at the look on his face as you spin on your heel to leave.

“See you at school, Sae!” You call out with a wave as you start to make your way back home, a happy pep in your step even if he doesn’t respond, too preoccupied with his own embarrassment.

(And if you trip slightly on your way back, skinning your knees slightly… well you suppose you could live with that form of karma.)

[squib-2006]

So I’ve finally got some of my thoughts on the new season in order and letting my self sit on it for a while

Dragons rising season 2 spoilers!!!!!

So first off holy shit this season has managed to completely wipe out any fears I had for season two. I’m a generally anxious person and am pretty naturally pessimistic about most things and was pretty anxious about season 2 because from the stuff shown in trailers and promotional vids it looked like a “Lloyd chosen one” plot line and I have a history of hating that kinda thing because it’s been beaten to death in ninjago at this point. While a bit of that was there I found it was done quite tastefully and didn’t overwhelm everything else story wise.

I felt that the pacing of the first 6-7ish episodes was a bit all over the place. Having the training arc and the Cole-Zane plot lines happen in the same episode with the pov switching back in forth felt a little bit off to me.

Sora and arins character arcs are shaping up to be pretty good. Soras more confident in her self than season one and she’s trying to help Arin but I feel like the whole using her elemental power to help Arin will backfire into her face. Arin’s insecurity and the whole how can I be useful if I don’t have an element I fell is being handled way better than the dumb kai arc in season 11(dw I will get to that when I get to kai) and it’s about on par with the Lloyd powerless plot from hunted. I am really excited to see what they do next and if Arin will be really mad at sora or not cuz like he’s super nice and stuff and I fell like he would be sad instead of mad.

Nya didn’t really have a lot going on personally except the stuff with Jay which I’m iffy on because so much of Nyas character in older seasons revolved around Jay and I just hope they don’t go back to that and let her character breath a bit.

In the topic of Jay I really really REALLY hope he isn’t evil. That the idea because it’s really out of character and they are already pushing my buttons with the lost memory crap because that’s something that I’ve rarely seen done well at all and it makes me very nervous and I just don’t like it. I do like that Jay just seems to be a guy who hates his job tho that’s fun.

I think the writers are just having fun with Zane and I think that’s cool. I do wanna punch the administration guy who said Zane isn’t a person because he is and he’s a bean and I will not allow this nobody to slander him.

It was nice to see more of Cole this season. I swear him and geo are so cute. The hand holding and the fact that they basically adopted two kids together is amazing and I am fully on board for this ship.

The villans were really interesting. I hope they keep up the quality with them because the mystery of ras’ master and wtf happened with jordana is really exciting. Cinder was intresting and as someone who has no interest in men what so ever I am kinda baffled at why so many people want this man but hey you do you. I do wonder what happened to ash tho. The member of the forbidden five looks interesting too and part of me is hoping that the leaked “evil jay” minifig is actually this guy just powered up cuz the color palette is similar enough and I just don’t want an evil jay.

Wyldfyre is amazing her whole leg being broken then sneaking on the ship to the exasperation of kai (like he would totally have pulled something like this a few seasons ago the hypocrite <3) and the others was so good. I am curious about her talk with egalt she mentioned one of her family members getting the wasting sickness but it can’t be heat wave cuz he seems fine so maybe she had more than one dragon guardian??? I do hope that Kai’s portal abduction does affected going into part 2 and that she bonds with nya and the others over it.

Egalt and rontu were very interesting to me and I’m glad they didn’t go the route of them being the actual creators of spinjitzu and kept the lore consistent I was slightly worried about that. Hope they come back in part 2 too.

Bonzle was a big surprise for me. I likes her personality in season 1 but I didn’t expect her to be so important. She’s really sweet and the scene with wu was great too.

And finally last but definitely not least, the best character in this entire show and my favorite comfort character to beat the shit out of

KAI

IT WAS SO FREAKING GOOD. I LITERALLY HAVE NOT BEEN THIS HAPPY WITH AN EPISODE SINCE SEASON 4 EPISODE 7 THE FORGOTTEN ELEMENT (iykyk) I was literately kicking my feet like a little girl and crying and screaming my head off to the point I woke up other family members. Him unlocking the rising dragon technique by having his sister help and being in harmony with his family is so fucking sweet and I cried like a little bitch it was so good. I am also so happy that they used his old hair and didn’t just slap a smaller version of his current hair onto him (tho I kinda wish they had used the fucked up custom hair that was in the older episodes but I doubt that model is even in their hands so whatever(side side note I love the fucked up hair so much it’s so stupid I love it and will forever miss it)) him being such a dad to wyld fire was so sweet and then using the rising dragon technique after he saw his family in danger was just perfect. I do kinda wish there was more of a dramatic reaction to him getting yeeted by ras into the portal (kinda like any of the other ninja “deaths/major injuries”) but im fine with what we got. Except I kinda hate that only nya has an outward reaction in the aftermath. No lloyd reaction no Cole reaction and nothing from Zane and it makes me mad because every other time a ninja had their moment there was a whole team reaction. But I’m feeling like that’s to nitpicky and there’s still ten more episodes to fix that so fingers crossed. But kai also encouraging bonzle to close the portal even if he’s trapped inside is such a kai thing and hit me like a truck. Also him calling bonzle kid dispite her being much much older than him is funny and sweet cuz Kai’s big brother/father figure side is coming through and it’s so sweet. And the ninja never quit line is so great I was sobbing even more after that. (Tho I don’t know why he said he got it from Lloyd when it would have made more sense to have it be from master wu cuz that’s where he learned it but eh whatever).

While im really happy about kai finally getting some well deserved angst im also very anxious about it too. This could be the perfect opportunity for the writers to just conveniently forget about him for a while and idk if i could sit through that. Kai is a huge part of why I watch ninjago and he’s always been handed the shortest stick character development wise and technically he never got his own focus season either (and no i dont count the pilots because that focused mainly on all the ninja and was only two episodes, i also don’t count season four because it was more a group season, and season 11 doesn’t count because he got a half baked b plot that sucked) I’m very worried that I will loose enjoyment in the show because I dropped the show out of disappointment after season 11 because A LOT of premonitional material made it seem like a kai season and I got my hopes up and was let down so much. I’m very cautious when getting excited about things involving kai in particular because of that and I’m just hoping the writers don’t fuck it up.

Ok that’s enough negativity for once. I’m so excited for more and am foaming at the mouth for more!

[thebluestbluewords]

Torture Devices

Going to the museum and talking about which torture devices you’d use on each other IS the cutest date idea for your evil polycule. They deserve cute things.

+

"You'd look good in this one," Mal whispers, leaning over to drape her whole body weight across Jay's back. She's the shortest member of their crew, but she's dense even in her human shape, like all the muscle of her dragon-shape just gets compressed into her usual little fairy body when she's not transformed. "You'd squirm so pretty for me, I bet." 

A shiver rips through Jay's spine at the thought. "Bet."

Mal's tongue hits his ear. "Sure. I'll take that one. We can sneak back in tonight, after close. You, me, and--" she pulls back to squint at the tag on the machine, and Jay nearly whines at the loss of her body heat.  "The 1602 Cinderellasburgh Torture Rack." 

"Kinky," Jay manages, in his most normal tone. He's feeling super normal about this museum trip, except for how his brain maybe got a little bit fucked up by sleeping under a shelf of heavy electronic crap for the first sixteen years of his life, and now he's sort of hard wired to associate imminent danger with feeling safe and secure and... 

Okay, even thinking that he feels loved is a step too far, but he likes being hurt. The threat is good. It's like a double shot of those peppermint mocha things straight to his brain, and it tends to leave him warm and sticky, also like peppermint mocha shots. 

"Do not," Evie hisses. "Do not make the torture museum horny. I am banning both of you. You're not allowed." 

Mal grins. "Ooh, will you punish us if we break the rules?" 

"No—“

"You could use the 17th-century water torture machine. Get us really wet."

"You're both terrible people." Evie sighs. "And get real, I wouldn't waste perfectly drinkable water on torturing you. I'd use the Iron Spider over there." 

She points at a spiky tong-like thing mounted to the wall. There's a helpful illustration mounted next to it of a woman with a gold halo and a suspicious sort of cavern where the front of her chest would usually be. There's no bloodstains on the spider, but Jay's pretty sure he knows where they'd be. 

Mal throws herself bodily off of his back and into Evie's arms. "I love spiders!" 

"This one rips your breasts off," Carlos reads calmly from the placard. "So it's perfect for you, Eves. You can follow in your mom's footsteps and use it to torture anyone with better boobs than you."

Evie laughs. "Oh, so nobody then. Pity. I'll use the choke-pear instead. Ooh, this one was allegedly used in the nineteenth century for homosexuals, so it's perfect for us. I'll get a whole line of them."

"I've kissed boys before," Mal says, from where she's laid herself in the gayest fucking princess hold Jay's ever seen. Her head is in Evie's tits. 

Evie clutches her closer. "Oh no. I am so surprised. How could you. You'll have to be spared the pear." 

Mal snickers. "Tragic. I'll put myself in the iron maiden instead." 

"Yeah, you love being inside maidens." Carlos says under his breath. Mostly. "Totally straight people behavior there."

"WHAT." Mal shrieks. "SLANDER."

"I said nothing." 

"BLASPHEMY. LIBEL. I'D NEVER WANT TO BE INSIDE A MAIDEN." 

Carlos sighs. "I would." 

"I know, baby," Evie says soothingly, dropping Mal so she can reach out and pet his hat instead. Auradon is depressingly obsessed with pairing guys and girls off into picture-perfect straight couples. In the last few months Jay's been on the receiving end of more polite flirting from girls than he got in a year back home. And that's with his whole vibe. He's doing something wrong, obviously, but they haven't figured out what it is yet. He's got the long hair, the shitkicker boots, and he's even tried being worse at eyeliner on purpose. 

It's like the Auradon Prep student body is so used to looking at a boy and seeing prince that they can't see bisexual goth jock when they've got one right in front of them. 

Not that being hit on by girls is bad, necessarily, but he'd really appreciate mixing it up a little. 

"I'd be so good at being somebody's lame-ass boyfriend." Carlos says wistfully. "I'd carry her books and everything." 

"We know, baby. It's a tragedy that being bisexual doesn't give you any game with women." 

"I'm not even SURE about girls, I just want the opportunity to find out." 

"You like Jane," Mal points out. "Come on, stop moping. I'll pretend I'm her, and you can tell me which torture device you'd put me in if I were a good fairy." 

"Stocks." 

"That's not torture. Try again." 

"Stocks," Carlos repeats stubbornly. "Bondage is fun." 

"You're supposed to be the one getting tied up," Jay points out helpfully. "Girls like doing that." 

"Not a girl," Mal sing-songs. "And not an example."

"You're being Jane right now." Evie reminds her. "Jane wouldn't know which way she likes to be tied up, because Auradon kids don't do that. I asked Doug, and he said he's never once looked at the stocks and thought that being restrained in public would be hot." 

"His loss." 

[zeppeli-reelstallbun]

A Jury of One

Part 1/? next -> [masterlist]

[PAIRING] Gyro Zeppeli x Reader (She/Her AFAB)

[SUMMARY] Do you tell them? Should you explain why you kept your gender a secret? Did you even really need to? No… Gyro and Johnny had proven long ago they were your friends, you didn't need to keep this big of a secret from them for this long… but surely they have things they don’t tell you either. (Fic takes place mid part 7)

[WC] 2.6k

[!!!] Reader disguises as a man as a major plot point. no major sbr plot points mentioned in this part but it takes place early-middle of the race, spoilers will arise. longer than chin length hair is implied but can be ignored. smoking swearing and drinking on the other hand...

[PREFACE] You were framed for murder lol (maybe we’ll talk abt this later teehee) Thankfully, you’re hot and sexy and managed to get away from the initial chaos! Then you were in hiding for a few years since… yk… Your name is still hot, but things have started to die down due to the passage of time. You always risk recognition, but are fairly confident that no one is specifically looking for you anymore. But you needed money ohhhh no what are you gonna do!? surprise surprise, its enter a horse race for the cash prize. Aaaaaand if you have to disguise yourself anyways, might as well get the benefits of being a man, considering how dangerous it might be. You landed on the name August, paying homage to the month the crime took place

[AN] so i def want to do more of this story line because i am incredibly incredibly normal about Johnny joestar and also have a lot of ideas for him with this concept sooooooooo yeah im gonna write him an apology plotline bbg deserves better. also also totally had an idea for a Diego tie in. Maybe I’m just horny for cowboys idk

The heat was relentless, beating down on your shoulders as you rode behind Gyro and Johnny. Under normal circumstances, the bandana around your face was a blessing; it was easy to justify its necessity in the harsh, arid sandstorms that left your eyes watering in pain. Today, however, it was stifling. The fabric you’d grown accustomed to was now trapping your face with the heat and sweat of the desert itself, but you didn't dare take it off. Not out here. Not with them.

It was a strange dynamic—one that left you feeling like you’d snuck into this odd little group while hiding the only thing that could change it all. Not to mention, traveling with two of the most observant and stubborn men in the Steel Ball Run race felt like walking a tightrope, considering the situation you were in. For weeks now, every glance, every accidental brush too close, every ill-timed cough or slip of your voice was a disaster waiting to happen. You were beginning to question the reason for keeping the secret in the first place, but you knew the risk of letting them in…

If either of them even recognized you, it would be enough to implicate them for harboring a criminal. You’d been donning the name ‘August’ for so long, the one you were born with had felt unnatural. Plus, it was much easier to sleep at night knowing they didn't know your gender, let alone your true identity. Or maybe it was a mercy to yourself. Maybe it was easier to forget about one secret when you were so obsessed with keeping another. Honestly, the fact you’d managed to keep both of these things hidden this long was impressive enough in itself.

That wasn’t to say there hadn’t been a few close calls, though.

The first was weeks ago, when Johnny tried to help with an injury after a rough day of riding. What had originally just been some friendly competition rapidly turned into bloodshed, and your right leg had taken significant damage in the process. You found yourself settling in for the night with a deeper appreciation for the spare pants you decided to pack, the others having been ripped to the calf and covered in blood.

“You’re limping,” the American said when you returned to camp, eyes wide as he gestured for you to sit next to him.

“It's nothing, Johnny,” you’d replied, brushing him off. Unfortunately, you didn't manage to stifle the gasp of pain that snuck through your lips as you shifted your weight to sit down.

“Woah, easy man,” Johnny cooed, instinctively placing his arms around your shoulders to help support your weight.

Gyro, who was tending the fire, had turned and crouched beside you—a rare moment of care showing on his face. “Let me see.”

“No,” you said too quickly, “It’s fine, really.”

But Johnny had already started tugging at the hem of your pants, and Gyro leaned in, all traces of his lighthearted demeanor gone. It wasn’t malicious, you knew. This was from a place of worry for a friend and their wellbeing; they were trying to treat a wound. But still, you’d panicked, slapping their hands away with more force than necessary.

“Don’t touch me,” you snapped, pulling the leg back with a wince.

Both men instantly froze, exchanging a look, and for a moment you thought the jig was up… Then Gyro shrugged, leaning back on his heels with that stupid lopsided grin of his.

“Suit yourself, ragazzo,” he said, the usual lightness back in his voice. “But if you lose that leg, don’t complain to me.”

That was one of the many quirks you had noticed after spending weeks with Gyro Zeppeli. No matter how much you and Johnny would tease him for it, it was as if he couldn’t help letting his native tongue slip out. Little nicknames, terms of endearment, even jabs at ‘mistakes’ others made seemed more natural in the foreign dialect.

“Attento, you’ll fall off your horse if you keep riding like that,” he’d call out to friend and foe alike. It had grown on you, you hated to admit.

Speaking of Gyro, the second close call you’d had was worse, and he was at its center.

It was late, the three of you camped in a small grove of trees, unfortunately cramped together in one tent due to the cold. You’d worried about the bandana falling off in the night at the beginning of the race, but had since found that it stayed put rather well. On this particular evening, you’d already dozed off, exhausted from the day's ride, only to wake with a start when Gyro’s hand clamped over the fabric on your face.

“Shh,” he whispered, breath hot against your ear. “Don’t freak out. Can’t reach Johnny without making too much sound so you’ll have to get him. Something’s out there.”

Your heart pounded as you realized how close he was, arm braced over you, body pressed tightly against yours. You froze, ignoring all instruction as terror washed over you. Something—anything—could give you away. You couldn’t be sure that he hadn’t felt anything, and this thought threw all logic out of your already sleep deprived brain. Thankfully, before you could even think to acknowledge what the Italian had said, Johnny's voice broke the silence.

“What is it?” he asked, sitting up, groggy but alert.

The hands around you tensed, and you noted a heavy pause before he acknowledged anything. “Probably just a coyote,” Gyro muttered, pulling back and letting you go. He might not have said anything, might not have noticed in the first place even, but you couldn’t help but notice how his brow furrowed before he turned away… how the creases in his forehead crinkled inwards, how his chin cocked slightly upward. Not that you paid attention to that kind of thing.

As you sat here now, riding their tails, a part of you debated feeling bad. They thought you were just another competitor, a guy with a knack for keeping quiet and an uncanny ability to fix up injuries or keep things in order. You played it well, you thought. The bandana and baggy clothes did most of the heavy lifting outside of your vocal adjustments. Without a doubt, you knew you could keep the act up and remain as masculine to Johnny as you were on day one.

But Gyro…

You were starting to second guess some things, let's put it that way.

When you had initially joined their little duo, he’d treated you similar to every other man he met: with boisterous humor, a touch of arrogance, and a list a mile long of half-baked philosophies on life. You found yourself biting your tongue at first, cringing when he launched into one of his grandiose speeches. Especially when his words started drifting; there was only so much ‘guy talk’ you could take, after all.

”Men are born to conquer, to lead, to endure hardship,” he’d drunkenly said one evening by the fire, gesturing wildly with a half-eaten strip of jerky. “Women, well, they’ve got their strengths too, but-”

He faded off with a glance in your direction. “Don’t stop there,” you’d muttered before you could help yourself. “I'm dying to hear the rest.”

Johnny had laughed innocently enough, but Gyro had given you a long look before letting out a soft chuckle. “Sharp tongue, eh?”

You considered this close call number three.

But now…

The way he spoke to you had shifted. As the three of you rode in tense silence, you couldn’t shake the feeling that his attention had been lingering a little too much lately. He’d always been loud, brash, abrasive, and impossible to ignore, but now there was something different. Subtle, but there. Honestly, a part of you wondered if he even knew he was doing it… if he knew he was forgetting to ask Johnny if he needed help off his horse or extra bedding on cold nights like he did for you.

“Don’t fall behind,” Gyro snapped you from the thought, voice carrying with a deep richness over the dry air as he turned around in his saddle to face you. “Not everyone has my stamina, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, grateful for the fabric covering the annoyed expression you couldn’t suppress. “I’ll keep up, don’t worry about me.”

He chuckled, turning back around, but not before letting his gaze linger another second too long. You thought you were making things up at this point, surely if someone as arrogant as Gyro had figured it out, there’s no way he’d keep his mouth shut about it.

Unless he knew too much.

But you didn’t want to give that thought any power over you or the relationship you had begrudgingly formed.

The sun was sinking lower as you continued on, casting a long shadow over the land ahead. Your exhaustion was setting in, and even Johnny was starting to complain about the final stretch of the journey.

“How far is the town?” He called from the front, voice tight with irritation.

“Couple more miles,” Gyro said, scanning the horizon. “We’ll make it before dark.”

You said nothing, too tired to deepen your voice more than necessary. Water had started to run low, it wasn’t dangerous yet, but you had been forced to ration out your canteen. You weren't at any risk of dehydration, but you were definitely starting to feel the strain on your vocal cords. Johnny and Gyro, of course, didn’t need to factor something like this into their trail planning. Nor had they needed to account for menstruation… that had been a truly awful week.

You were planning on remaining this detached until you reached the checkpoint town, knowing a night in a real bed would ease some of the tension you’d been feeling in the wilderness.

That was before Gyro slowed Valkyrie, letting his horse fall in step beside yours. He leaned slightly toward you, grin shifting into something softer, something almost teasing.

”You holding up back here, regazza?” he asked.

Your breath caught.

It was so casual, so smooth that you’d almost missed it. Johnny didn't even flinch. Granted, you couldn’t know if he’d even heard it; he was too busy squinting at the horizon, muttering something under his breath about wanting real food. But you? You were frozen. Did he know?

You might not know Italian, but your time around the man had taught you a thing or two about pronoun structure… that, and he’d never called you anything but ‘regazzo’ up until now.

Gyro didn't look at you directly, but you saw the corner of his mouth turn up into a smirk, daring you to react.

You didn't. You couldn’t. You had to convince yourself it was just a mistake. You couldn’t react no matter his intention. You felt like you could die-

Instead of dying, you kept your eyes straight forward, your grip tightening on the reins until your knuckles ached and nails dug into your palms. Heat rose to your cheeks, and for the first time all day you were thankful for the disgustingly sweaty bandana stuck to your face. You forced yourself to stay calm, as if hearing the feminine form of a word hadn’t struck you like a bolt of lightning.

Would a guy have reacted the same way? What would Johnny have said? Would he have acknowledged the difference? Should you have? Did he know? Was your silence incrimination enough?

You already knew the answer was yes, and you cursed yourself for freezing instead of just playing it off in the moment.

He didn't say it again, and didn't seem fond of breaking the silence that followed, but the damage was done. The road was now suffocatingly quiet, tension becoming more palpable by the minute.

And there were still miles to go.

At one point, you thought it would be impossible, each hoofbeat heavy with what remained unspoken.

The trail seemed endless ahead of you. And he was always there, right beside you, making it impossible to pretend. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes kept screaming a victory. His gaze fell somewhere between savoring the tension he’d created and yearning for you to take the initiative to break it.

“How are you holding up?” He finally muttered once the town was in sight, his voice light and teasing in a way that made your stomach tighten.

You barely managed to suppress a shiver running through you. “Fine,” you muttered, pushing the unease down.

“Mm, fine, huh?” Gyro drawled, slowing and nudging his horse closer to yours. “Looks like there’s something on your mind, don’t look so fine to me.”

You could feel his gaze, sharp and unrelenting. It made your skin crawl, but you forced yourself to remain indifferent. “It’s nothing,” you said, as casually as you could manage.

Still, your pulse quickened. You couldn’t help it, you knew exactly where this was going. Before he could answer, Johnny, blissfully ignorant, turned his head around, humming a little tune. “Almost there, boys. Nice bed, nice real meal—maybe even a bath, eh?”

Gyros' eyes rolled as they flickered to him. “I bet you’ll have fun with that,” he said with his usual tone. You clenched your jaw, hoping that would be the end of his comments.

You should have known better.

”You know,” Gyro broke the silence seconds later, “I have a feeling Auggie is gonna splurge on his own room tonight. Just a hunch.”

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, grip tightening again as you forced yourself to stay quiet.

Johnny, bless his soul, quipped right back. “Not if I beat him to it! I’ve had enough of your snoring, Zeppeli.” He started looking around, eager to get to the inn.

Gyro, on the other hand, seemed to be studying you still, waiting for you to crack, to give him any hint that you’d understood the implication of his words.

But you stayed quiet. You somehow ignored the fire burning in your stomach as his gaze overstayed its welcome.

As you pulled into the town, you were looking for any excuse to linger behind. Johnny must have been reading your mind to some capacity, as he was more helpful towards this goal than Gyro was.

“I’ll get our rooms, on me for stealing first from you Zeppeli-“ he started.

“Was that before or after Hot Pants stole first from you, Johnny?” You couldn’t help yourself, you were still enjoying the look on his face from earlier in the afternoon when the actual lineup was announced.

He scoffed at you, a lighthearted smile showing that he appreciated the banter, “Just put up Slow Dancer for me, will you?” he asked, eager to get inside to rest.

Gyro didn't move as he spoke, keeping his eyes fixed instead on you. “Of course. Thank you for handling it, Johnny, that’s very kind.”

The kid was already gone when you started to dismount, but Gyro’s voice stopped you cold.

“I'm thinking,” he said, voice dropping to a whisper meant just for you. “We’re gonna need to have a little chat, bella. Just us.”

The weight of his words—no, word—pressed down like a thousand bricks. If by some miracle you were able to play off ‘regazza,’ this was intended as a blunt confrontation of your ignorance. But you knew better than that. More importantly, you knew Gyro Zeppeli knew you better than that. So, you froze, fingers still on the reins, body tensing at the intensity in his gaze. He didn't break eye contact as he leaned in slightly, hands wandering to assist your descent from the horse.

”I'll meet you inside,” he added as you reached the ground, handing the other two leads to you. “I'll even get us some drinks. Don’t keep me waiting.”

continue to next part ->

woooo first fic posted in a while. thanks for reading :)

read other works and progress announcements on my masterlist !!

[tkwrites]

The Second Time Is Better - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photos from Pinterest

Title: The Second Time is Better

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn x Sarah

Warnings: fluffy smut (18+ only), penetration, talks of anxiety and under performing

Summary: Sequel to Love Me Gently, Quinn and Sarah have sex for the first time. After a disappointing first performance, they're in for an experience much deeper than either one expected. 

Word count: 1,400

The Second Time is Better

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

The walk to the bathroom was the most embarrassing part. Not only were his legs wobbly from coming, he hadn’t lasted more than two strokes. Sure, he hadn’t slept with someone in a while, and he hadn’t slept with someone he really liked in… well, he wasn’t sure he’d ever liked anyone as much as he liked Sarah. 

Seeing her naked along with being inside her for the first time was too much, and he'd lost it nearly as soon as he’d started. 

Breathing slowly to calm down, he cleaned himself up, thinking through what he was going to say when he went back to her.  

Sarah had pulled up the covers, resting them under her arms. Just the sight of her in his bed made his knees want to buckle. 

Self conscious, he walked from the bathroom and slid under the covers. He lay on his back, mirroring her posture. 

He was just opening his mouth to say something when her hand found his, lacing their fingers together. It was such an unexpected, sweet gesture, Quinn lost his coherent train of thought. It took him a few moments to get it back. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, staring at the light fixture. 

The sheets rustled, “for what?” 

He felt like a fool of epic proportions as he glanced at her. Did she not even care? She had this peaceful look on her face, like she wasn’t disappointed at all. 

“For,” he gestured with his free hand, “for my two stroke performance there.” 

She giggled, “Quinn, it was our first time. I know this may disappoint you, but I didn’t expect a whole lot. The first time is always a sham with someone new. From everything else we've done so far, I know you’ll listen to what I need and it’ll get better.” 

And just like that, his anxiety blew away. Some of it lingered, of course. Some of it always lingered, but it wasn't so embarrassingly suffocating. 

He blew out a breath, “how are you so perfect?” 

She laughed, “I am not perfect. I’ve just learned to have realistic expectations.” 

He rolled on his side, and pulled her closer with their clasped hands. “See what I mean? Perfect.” 

Their lips met in a soft kiss. 

Soon enough, he was back on top of her, reaching into his nightstand for another condom. 

When he pushed into her, engaging in some mental coaching to stay steady and not get too excited, he moaned around a deep exhale. 

“You feel so good,” he managed to say. 

Had he even said anything before, or had he been too wrapped up in his own head?

Sarah’s fuck it attitude was back. She wanted to touch and memorize him so badly. She had with her past two boyfriends too, but always held back, worried that her intensity would scare them away. Quinn had proved all of her fuck it feelings unwarranted thus far, so she leaned into them, watching his unfocused eyes as her fingers brushed over his chiseled cheekbone. 

Quinn’s eyes snapped to hers. He found her studying him like a work of art, her hand gently moving to trace his jaw. 

When their gazes locked, it knocked the breath out of him in a way that had nothing to do with her warm, tight heat. He’d never made eye contact like this during sex. This was intimate. Intimate in a way that made him realize he’d never fully understood the meaning of the word before. 

Captivated, he found he couldn't look away.  

The reality of Quinn really seeing her intensity made Sarah blush on top of the sensual flush in her skin. She’d never made eye contact like this during sex either. She didn’t think he was pulling away, but she felt like she still had to brace for the consequences.

“Sorry,” she said, quietly, not looking away.  

“For what?” 

One of her shoulders shrugged up. “I just wanted to remember this - and you,” she said, gently moving a lock of his hair off his forehead. 

Quinn had never felt so desired before - in every sense of the word. Sarah saw him, not just as a body, or an athlete, or a bank account, but as Quinn. She saw it all and still wanted him. 

He sputtered, “you don’t have to apologize for that.” 

She smiled, shyly, and he wanted to give her the world. The world on a silver platter. That wouldn’t happen (at least not right then), so he supposed he would settle for giving her an orgasm. 

“What do you need?” he asked, voice soft. 

She bit her lip, watching him for a while longer, memorizing the slack set of his jaw, and the way his Adam's apple moved in his throat. 

“Can I be on top?” she asked. 

He didn’t mean to, but a groaned laugh still fell out of his mouth. “Like you need to ask.” 

Carefully flipping them over, he settled as she adjusted, taking him a little deeper. 

Their eyes were still locked together as Sarah leaned forward slightly, gently rocking her clit against his pelvis. Quick bolts of pleasure raced into her veins. Her eyelids grew heavy, but she didn’t look away. 

It was easier for Quinn to hold on this time. He was able to brace himself. He let watching her take over most of his mind, no longer fixating on how tight she was, or how good she felt. Those thoughts were still there, of course - there was no way he could avoid them - but the forefront of his thoughts were caught on her delicate face, the gentle jostle of her breasts as she rocked into him and how much he liked her. It didn’t hurt that she wasn’t moving fast enough to send him over the cliff.

"Quinn," she moaned. 

That might do it. He bit his lip to distract himself. 

"Quinn, touch me."

His hands swept up her sides, and covered her breasts. 

She moaned, letting the sensations in her body take hold. The comfortable feeling she got with Quinn made her so much less self conscious. She didn't think about what she looked like as much when she was with him. It had been a long time - perhaps this was the only time - since she'd felt that way. It was such a relief to just be. 

Without that distraction, her orgasm raced to her quicker than with any other partner. 

Bracing her hands on his chest, she kept rocking, marveling at how much better it felt to clench around his hard, hot length than what they had done before. The pleasure kept coming and coming, rolling through her in waves. 

Quinn moaned. It didn't matter that she was rocking slowly. The way her back arched, pushing her chest into his hands along with the rhythmic pulses of her orgasm felt like heaven. Hell, she could even stay stock still except for that pulsing desire, and he would have no choice but to come. 

"Sarah," he moaned. 

It was the hottest thing she'd ever heard. She loved how much Quinn used her name instead of a pet name, as if he was making sure she knew who was making him feel this way. 

"Fuck, Sarah, I'm gonna…" his words fell away as his climax finally triggered. 

His hands slid to her hips of their own accord, gripping, holding her steady as he sought his last traces of pleasure. 

Finally spent, Sarah collapsed on him, chest to chest, her hair spilling over his shoulder. His arms draped around her waist.

After a few moments of their skin pressing together with each ragged inhale, she caught her breath and pushed herself up. 

“Stay,” Quinn said, tensing his arms around her. 

A smile crept over her mouth and Sarah adjusted, shifting slightly so he slipped out and she could lay her head on the front of his shoulder. 

“See,” she said, lips brushing the side of his neck, “I told you it would get better.”

He chuffed a laugh, “you did, and you were right.” 

A pause passed in their conversation for so long, Sarah wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Just as she was convinced he had, his fingers started a slow, soft journey up her back. 

“It’s never been like this before.” 

Despite the fact that they were the only ones in his apartment, his voice was so quiet, only someone draped over him would hear. 

“Like what?” she whispered.

She was feeling the same way, but wanted to know what he was thinking. 

Like love, he thought, but didn’t dare say out loud. “It’s never been so-” he paused, trying to articulate his feelings, finding there was only one way.

“I never knew why they called it making love until you."

Nuzzling his neck, she murmured, “I know exactly what you mean.” 

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