#there is supposed to be at least a little more snow by now

[allfearstofallto]

you’ve mentioned once that you’re not sure if childe and his darling knew each other before, well, the whole kidnap situation

so i was wondering how childe “found” and then decided to kidnap someone who kinda didn’t even know he existed💔

btw love your childe posts, you’re lit feeding me

OMG, I love this one so fucking much.

So I do have headcanons for how Yanderes met and fell for their darlings or one of the ways they could've and the only one who didn't write for was Childe, mostly because I couldn't decide. Like, for him, I have so many ideas.

I mentioned Ajax's darling always hailing from Liyue because that's where I assumed Childe spends a good chunk of his time, but some other thoughts I'd have is: Young Ajax with a full cheeks a bright smile, far before he fell into the abyss. He'd meet a girl unfamiliar with the snow and maybe shivering and shaking like a leaf in a storm.

The orange haired boy, feeling pity on you would give you his gloves and scarf, but not much else could be said before you're pulled away. A fuzzy memory that he can feel more than envision. At least, until he spits that familiar face once again and he doesn't want to let you go.

Okay, so another one, and this one is common, is: owing money to him or the northland bank in some way, I wrote something similar with "When it Comes to You" but another way I'd love to add depth to the idea is by not owing just for yourself.

Assume, you were orphaned, possibly dropped off at the nearest orphanage in liyue. You stayed there, grew, and got nothing, but love and adoration from your little family. Watching the others come and go while you still stayed, but you didn't feel any sorrow upon staying within those dreary walls, because they held unconditional love.

You'd stay until you were supposed to age out. And even longer after that. No longer a resident, but now an employee, gifting the same love you'd received once before. Everything seemed well, almost fairytale like. Everything except the finances.

So many hungry mouths to feed, so many mods that entered every day. You were drowning in a perpetual cycle of struggle ajs fear. You could leave. The thought crosses your mind from time to time. But who will care for the young ones if not you?

You go to the bank in search of help and catch his attention almost immediately. When Ajax offers you a deal, you don't hesitate to accept. It's not like you have many other options. And they amount he's willing to give is more than you can make on your own.

The children are healthier with the amount they're being fed, they have toys and clothesm yet you can't help, but notice the frequency in which you're seeing Childe roaming around. And how his interest lies in you.

Obviously I have a bunch more, but those are just a couple!!

[not-feeling-the-aster]

Ok so I finished Sunrise on the Reaping and I have not very positive thoughts. I get other people really liked it and that’s fine, this is just my opinion. I guess I'll reread it and see if I change my mind (or not), but for now I can say that it was my least favorite of the series, by far.

Spoilers ahead

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Honestly I was a little skeptical when they announced the movie along with the book, although I wanted to stay optimistic :(

One of the things that threw me off was the way it tells you things so directly, when the other books are more subtle. I would say it’s as if the older books gave you the puzzle pieces but you still had to make the effort to put them together, whereas this time it just gives you the solved puzzle at once.

Then there’s the narration, which at times feels underwhelming, since it doesn’t match the emotional depth some scenes require. While reading I was thinking everything felt numb, like the tension wasn’t really there. Haymitch’s reactions feel plain to me most of the time, and I get that one could argue he bottles up his feelings because it’s a traumatizing situation, that’s fair. But we’re supposed to read his thoughts, his internal turmoil, and I feel like we almost never really go past the surface. With Katniss (and even Snow) I could see more clearly their deepest thoughts, doubts and vulnerability.

Back to Haymitch, there’s also the thing with his family. They are supposed to be the most important people in his life, but there is little to no development on their relationship. Don’t tell me he loves them, show me how he cares for them, how was his upbringing, show me some memory of his childhood, how was his life when his dad was alive, how did his death affect him till nos, how does him being the older brother shapes his character. Show me how much they care for each other before the tragedy happens. Because the point is he looses them, we know it. Their bond matters, make it strong enough to linger after they’re gone.

We also have to talk about Lenore Dove. Again, we know a few things about her and how they met. We know Haymitch loves her and thinks about her a lot (maybe too much) but does she love him as much? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think she is pretending or anything, but it does seem like they are on different pages at times. My thing is, we are presented with this couple from the get go, and we are expected to root for them because they are soulmates for life and can’t live without each other, but what is their dynamic like? How do they work together? not just as Haymitch admiring her all the time. What does she like about him so much? Does she actually want to run away? Alone or with him? Does she know he fantasizes about having a family with her? Would she be okay with that?

I feel like their relationship could have worked better if they had just recently got together, they would still care for each other and missed one another, but it wouldn’t be this super serious, never-ending, magical love that’s larger than life itself. Just real, meaningful, hopeful love. Doomed, but true. That’s enough.

Regarding the theme of propaganda, I also feel like it wasn’t handled that well. I mean yeah the capitol shows and edits the games to their liking, ok. I guess what I was expecting was how propaganda was received by the people, specially in different places of Panem.

The careers were completely dumbed down this time, there was no nuance or complexity there, maybe for a tiny moment with the chocolates but that was on Haymitch so I guess it doesn’t count either.

I liked the idea of the alliance and I personally don’t mind the cameos but everyone speaking so freely of the rebellion plan was a little unserious. Plutarch for me is still the same character, I don’t consider him fundamentally rebellious, he just wants to be on the winning side and come out as unscathed as possible. Him lecturing Haymitch did annoy me a bit though, and I don't think it helped to explore the themes like it was intended.

I'm sure there's more but this are my main problems with it. I was really excited about it but well, I still love the other books so the story didn't change for me, but I'm a little worried for a possible future book now. We'll see how it goes.

Also I wanted to point out that just because you like a certain author it's okay to not like and be critical of some of their work. Like, it shouldn't be that serious, but I know some people get defensive. Each book is different, and authors are people, and they can make cool things and not so cool things, calm down with the pedestals please.

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

How am I supposed to think it is winter when it looks like early spring outside?! Or late fall. Probably late fall since less stuff is flooded. I’m pretty sure El Niños aren’t supposed to go this hard. “Global warming isn’t real” I’m going to smash your face into the mud that is SUPPOSED to be covered in a foot of snow by now. I WANTED to go tubing this year but the slope is fucking dry and also my plants have no insulation from the elements. They fields have nothing keeping the dirt down! The birds flew all that way south for nothing! Although the ones that fly here from the arctic are probably having a field day. Maybe not though, they do fluff up more in winter. I should probably be enjoying the fact that I can still use the sidewalks but I can’t! Because this is fucking WEIRD!

[blackwaxidol]

I do not know what my problem is.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - non/con, manipulation, mentions of breeding, and unbalanced power dynamics.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's ecstatic the day his owner, Suguru, brings you home. He's the pinnacle of a spoiled pet, constantly showered in toys and treats and affection, but his owner's a busy man, and he tends to sulk when left home alone. He's had other companions before, another leopard hybrid who nearly killed him before being released back into the wild and a black panther who somehow proved to be a worse influence on Satoru than Satoru was on her, but you're supposed to be more permanent solution, another hosuepet to keep him company when Suguru can't. You're a sweet little housecat, all wide-eyes and raised ears, but still, Suguru wouldn't be surprised if you're begging to go back to the shelter less than an hour after meeting your new roommate.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who falls in love with you immediately. Suguru practically has to keep him in a chokehold while you explore your new home, eventually curling up on your new bed. Satoru's on top of you as soon as he gets loose, purring obnoxiously while he runs his bristled tongue over your cheek. Suguru's half-convinced that your first day's going to end with bloody claws and bandages, but you only nuzzle into his chest and knead at the blankets underneath you. Satoru's a difficult cat to put up with, and Suguru's relieved that you, at least, find him tolerable.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's absolutely massive compared to you. The tips of your pointed ears barely reach his collarbones, and your wrist is only as thick as his fluffy tail. His favorite hobby quickly becomes carrying you from room to room despite your softly mewled protests, and he's not happy unless he's pressed against you as closely as possible. He used to force himself into Suguru's lap whenever possible, but now, he's unbearable unless you're sitting pretty in his. He doesn't even complain when you lose your temper and dig your little fangs (barely half the size of his - a poor imitation of a real predator's) into his arm, just grinning as he tugs at your ears and pinches your cheeks. He's not exactly a wild animal, but he's still at the top of his food chain. You're not quite a mouse, but you might as well be, compared to him.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's calling you his mate after less than a full month. You don't know what it means, often parroting it back as more of a question than a term of endearment, and Suguru just brushes it off as Satoru being deliberately irritating. He keeps it up, though. even after you start refusing to respond to it.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who starts introducing you to new "games". You know you don't stand a chance against him, but somehow, he always manages to goad you into roughhousing, into squirming as he pins you under his full weight. He likes to dangle things above your head, to see how long it takes your instincts to get the best of you before your chest is pressed against his and you're pouting so adorably as you jump and bat at his hand. Sometimes, when you fall asleep mid-grooming session, he'll let his mouth wander lower than it should, and you'll wake up to his tongue lapping over your chest, his face buried between your thighs in a way that leaves you teary-eyed and warm. You've tried to tell Suguru, but you always get embarrassed and end up mumbling something as vague as 'Satoru's being mean to me, again.' In the end, Satoru only ever gets a slap on the wrist and a new reason to tease you, next time Suguru turns his back.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who fucks you whenever Suguru isn't home. He planned on waiting for your first heat (delayed by your shelter suppressants and the stress of a new home), and he knows he's not supposed to, but he just can't get enough of having your smaller body curled up underneath his, your tail thrashing from side to side as he lazily rolls his hips against yours. You tend to whine, at first, to go on and on about how weird it feels and how much it hurts, but as soon he gets his cock inside of you, all those complaints tend to go away. It's almost funny, how easily your stupid little kitty mind gets all hazy and cockdrunk. He always loves you, but he loves you most when you're drooling and purring for his cum, begging him to breed you properly between hitched moans.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's not even mad when Suguru catches him bouncing your half-conscious, fucked-out body on his cock. He wants to be the best possible mate for you, and he couldn't do that if he wasn't willing to show you off <3

[i-love-ptv]

Such A Sure Thing ‧*❆₊⋆

Pairing:Boyfriend Rafe Cameron x Girlfriend!Reader

It finally snowed in the Outer Banks, (who would’ve thought?) so what do you do? You spend the day with the Camerons.

Wc: 1,192

Pure fluff!! We got lots of snow the other day soooo ya.

An: This is a little rushed cause i wanted to get it out, so i hope there aren’t too many mistakes 😣 I’m gonna try n be more consistent dw guys! ALSO IM THINKING ABT MAKING A TAGLIST SO LMK IF YOU’RE INTERESTED!

Feedback is always appreciated and welcomed!

Rafe awoke to the sound of screams.

His disoriented state made him merely turn over in bed, in hopes of finding your heated body right next to him. Yet he was met with limp tangled sheets and a cool pillow. The high heat inside the house doing nothing to provide him comfort in his long sleeve shirt alongside his sweatpants—only making him acknowledge the slight sweat that covers him from his chest up.

This made him jump up, the sounds of yelling now starting to register in his mind. His sleepy haze doesn’t allow him to recognize that signature laugh of yours that rings throughout the front lawn.

Rafe’s stride to the bottom of the staircase and eventually to the front door doesn’t miss a beat.

His steps are quick, and filled with urgency as he quickly rips open the already cracked front door.

“Wheez! You’re supposed to be on my team!” Rose yelps with a giggle.

Rafe sees you, alongside Wheezie, Sarah, and Rose, all with rosy faces and snow covering your layered clothing. He looks over slightly and sees Ward standing a few feet away, no doubt trying to avoid being hit with the largely-sized snowballs that the four of you are throwing. —Ward has a slight, yet noticeable quirk of a grin on his face.

Rafe rubs his eye with his gently-formed fist. He recognizes the coat that’s nearly swallowing your frame, it’s his. He assumes that once you noticed the snowflakes falling, you immediately grabbed whichever coat your pretty eyes landed on.

You’re crouching behind a well-constructed snow wall, creating multiple snowballs a minute, no doubt preparing for when Sarah comes running back for more ammunition for her onslaught. Rose is cowering behind her and Wheezie’s poorly created mound as the two youngest Cameron’s continue their attack.

Suddenly, Rose gathers a somewhat-large pile of snow in her arms and launches it at Sarah’s frame. She squeals as she sprints back to you, where she dives into the snow beside you.

“Don’t worry Sar, I’ll cover you!” You shout, before gathering several snowballs and then rushing towards Rose and Wheezie.

Rafe continues to watch on as the mere snowball fight turns into a playful brawl between you and his younger sister. Sarah and Rose join in as well, and Rafe looks at the scene fondly.

In all honesty, Rafe’s never really been for family; mainly preferring to be alone or rarely with his father. But something about seeing you with his family—fitting in perfectly as if you lived here, made his heart pound. He’s never been big for affection, both giving and receiving, at least he thought he wasn’t. Because right now, all he can think about is bundling up and joining you.

You’ve been this beacon of light for Rafe; he doesn’t really understand it, and trying to is harder than it seems. He’s spent so long trying to figure out how you’re different from all the rest; was it the fact that even though you didn’t take any shit from anybody, you’re still endlessly kind? Was it your beauty that couldn’t be matched? Or maybe it was the compassion that nobody has ever shown him—not even his own family—besides you.

He’s awestruck by you, he always is. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, everything leaves him breathless as he tries to calm his beating heart.

“Morning, Ray!” You shout, making him blink. “God—how are you not cold right now?!” You giggle as you try to regain your breath, while also sprinting towards him. Short puffs of air leave your mouth and flow through the wind. Your nose is slightly dark and rosy from the cold, as well as your upper wrist, which is exposed to the freezing snow that most likely rolled down your sleeves.

“Ew dude, nobody wants to see that,” Wheezie groans.

“Yeah, go put on some clothes, loser!” Sarah exclaims.

Rafe pays no mind to them, his main focus being on you peering up at him so beautifully, just like you always do.

Your icy gloves fingers gently push on his chest, “C’mon..Go change so we can make a snowman.” You speak softly.

“Uh-huh..” He mumbles dumbly, and all he can do is smile whilst going back to his room. He rummages through his closet, throwing clothes around haphazardly, desperately searching for at least a sweatshirt and shoes.

After quickly changing into whatever, somewhat warm clothing he could find, Rafe goes downstairs. He opens the front door yet again, but instead of seeing you farther down the lawn, you're waiting patiently directly on the porch.

You push your hands out towards him without a word, only beaming at him as his eyes trails down. In your cupped hands lies a heart-shaped snowball. Rafe can’t help but match your grin.

“Oh, thank you baby,” he nearly whispers, before gently taking the heart and putting it into his jacket pocket.

Rafe swipes the nearby wall-mounted lantern and gathers the snow in his black glove-covered hands. His large fingers attempt to form a heart.

It’s a little extremely disfigured, but you give him a toothy duchenne smile nonetheless.

You thank him before grabbing his arm and dragging him further into the front yard. The boots that you saved up and bought him for Christmas stomp in the snow behind you. He laughs at your eagerness.

Suddenly, you stop, muttering a “Shit! My boot,” before crouching down.

Rafe shifts his gaze down to your form with curiosity, which is very short lived when you toss a quickly formed snowball into his face.

Rafe sputters as you laugh, briefly watching you run away before sprinting after you.

“C’mon! You can't hit me then run away, babe!” Rafe yells, quickly gaining on you.

He tackles you into the snow, you both grunt simultaneously.

“That’s not fucking fair! You have lanky legs!” You squeal as he begins to dig and prod at your sides.

“Yeah yeah, it’s not my fault your stride isn’t up to par like mine.” Rafe smirks triumphantly.

You can’t help but cackle, “You sound so stupid right now!” Rafe then trails his tickling up your body, it’s erratic and uncalculated; all you can do is squirm in the mound of snow.

A shout comes from a few feet away, you recognize the voice—it’s Wheezie. “Hey, lovebirds! We’re going inside to get hot chocolate, you comin’?” She’s standing in front of the door with Sarah; you assume Rose and Ward have already gone inside.

“Nah, we’re good!” Rafe hollers, before continuing to torment mess with you.

“Ow! Fuck, my ribs!” Your tone is filled with anguish, and you jolt up in Rafe’s arms.

“What? What happened baby? Was I too rough?” Rafe’s checking your frame urgently, searching for any sign of an injury.

Abruptly, you use all your body weight to push Rafe onto his back. You straddle him, then grab some of the snow surrounding his head, smushing it into his face.

You stand on wobbly knees as Rafe tries to regain his composure, before taking off towards the backyard.

“Oh—I’m not letting you get away, sweetheart!” Rafe huffs before taking off after you yet again.

[bloggerspam]

Not Exactly the Apple of my Eye

I wrote this for the @haunting-heroes-creative-games WWT Myths game last month, and subsequently co-won my first game!

Figured I'd post it here too, now that all the reveals have happened---have a DPxYJ/DPxDC Snow White AU Crack fic!

===

"You gotta be kidding me," Kon says as he looks down at himself, "this can't be real, right?"

"Feels pretty real to me!" Bart chirps happily, fiddling with his overly large green sleeves.

"Rad." Tim rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and popping his hip and yawning like a disgruntled cat. Sarcasm practically drips from every orifice of his body language, even as he looks 2 seconds away from falling asleep.

"Is this what I think it is?" Cassie yells from further into the room, the sound of a small clamor echoing behind her words.

"If by it you mean some kind of inter-dimensional fucky wucky, then yeah!" Kon waves his arms around, gesturing to the room at large even if she can't see; Tim and Bart can, and that's all that matters. "I think so!"

"No, I mean is this Snow White?" Cassie clarifies as she comes huffing into the room. She too is adjusting her clothes as best she can, trying to figure out what to do with the glasses suddenly on her face.

The four of them stand gathered in the middle of the cottage they've been dumped into, freshly shrunken in height, stripped of their powers and gadgets and suits, and dressed in what seems to be simple cotton peasant shirts and work leggings.

They also have comically large and weirdly soft and sturdy leather shoes, of the Snow White Dwarf variety.

"Aren't there supposed to be seven of us?" Tim mumbles thoughtfully, another yawn causing him to slump and looking mad about it.

"How can you be so calm about this?" Kon huffs, picking up Tim with very little resistance for once and dumping the yawning boy onto a bed labelled Sleepy. Kon himself grumbles as he takes a seat on the next bed over labelled Grumpy.

An angry Kryptonian is not a great idea. Who let this be okay?

"I'm not calm about this…" Tim yawns once more, irritated, "I just can't think straight, I'm too tired."

"You don't sleep on a daily basis though?" Bart walks his way to his own bed, labeled Dopey and test bouncing it. "But it seems fitting at least. Plus, You're not straight anyway. Who's Cassie supposed to be?"

"Doc, I think." Cassie goes to her own bed, looking at it dubiously before deciding to ignore it completely. "He's the only one with glasses right?"

"That…" Tim is curled up on his side now, "still…doesn't answer…"

Soft snores start to drift through the room, another anomaly, considering Tim doesn't actually snore.

"What did the genie lady say?" Bart starfishes on his bed, making snow angels with no snow, "This is all because you decided to hit on her anyway."

"How was I supposed to know?!" Kon angrily pulls the covers off his bed to dump over Tim. "All I said was that she was pretty!"

Before anybody else can say anything, there's another clatter outside the cottage.

"Seriously!?" A voice screams, "Seriously?! Three years and you-" A violent sneeze interrupts the voice—"-still make fucking wishes?"

A small murmur answers the voice, barely audible.

Kon, Cassie and Bart look at each other, before scrambling over to the door. Tim stays dead asleep. When they burst out, tumbling over each other, they're met with the other three dwarves: A young gothic looking girl who keeps sneezing, an African American boy hiding behind another boy with a bedsheet of all things tied around his neck like a cape. The caped boy, with his black hair and blue eyes, looks like he's trying to be a knock off superman.

Kon does not like that. At all.

"Hey!" Rao, it's like he has no control over his temper, "Were you guys fucked over by the genie lady too?"

"Language~" Bart singsongs, giggling. The gothic girl whirls towards them, angry like spitfire, and sneezing just as violently.

"Hello, citizens!" Super-knock-off intones, "What brings you into the ill graces of Desiree?"

"If by Desiree you mean the genie lady," Cassie jabs a thumb at him, "then this guy hit on her."

"O-oh," The shy boy still hiding behind Super-knock-off is blushing hard enough that Kon can see it even with his darker skin, "w-wow, you're pretty…"

"Thanks!" Cassie smiles, winking at him. "The ladies love it, anyway."

The boy squeaks, hiding behind super-knock-off again. Goth-girl rolls her eyes before addressing Cassie.

"Desiree hates that-" a sneeze, "-kind of shit." Goth-girl rubs her nose, to which the bashful boy passes her a tissue from his backpack as if dealing with a rabid animal. The girl takes it with a scoff-turned-sneeze.

"Figured." Cassie shrugs, waving to herself. "I'm Cassie, by the way. Grumpy over here is Connor, and Cutie Pie down here is Bart."

Kon huffs, waving begrudgingly as Bart does a happy little wave.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Danny!" Super-knock off puffs out his chest, before gesturing to the once more sneezing Goth. "This is Sam, and behind me is Tucker!"

"We're not—usually like this." Sam sniffles, sneezing between pauses, "Danny's usually more chill, and Tucker's not this—shy. But if my—math is mathing, it's because—of the dwarf traits."

"Why does being Happy make him so…" Kon sneers, "Do-goodey?"

"Long story. We call him Super Danny in this state." Tucker smiles, peeking out a little more, "Fun Danny was better."

"Hey!" Danny wraps an arm around his friend to bring him up to the forefront, causing Tucker to squeak. "Super Danny had his moments!"

"Where's-" Sam sneezes four times in a row, "-Sleepy?"

"Our friend Tim." Bart gestures towards inside the house, "He's napping in one of the beds inside. He's usually an insomniac, so this is actually pretty great!"

"So," Cassie gets them back on track as they all convene around a sleeping Tim. "Do you guys know how to escape?"

"That is difficult," Danny hums, patting at Tucker who seems to be taking deep breaths to overcome his shyness. Kon tries to follow suit, to temper himself. "Did you perhaps make a wish when hitting on Desiree?"

Kon felt his face go blotchy red, rubbing at his cheek with the back of his hand and looking away.

"Connor." Cassie's voice goes threatening, hands on her hips like a mom scolding a child.

"All I said was Move over Snow White, 'cause you're truly the fairest in the land!" Kon grumbles, crossing his arms. "And that she made me all Bashful, or whatever! I didn't wish for anything!"

"All I did was wish Sam would lighten up," Tucker scratches the back of his neck, inching closer to Danny when Sam bears her teeth. "Normally Desiree would just make Sam glow, or something."

"Who is Desiree anyway?" Bart starts to frown down at himself, rubbing his tummy absentmindedly. "We were just having lunch with Tim's brother-"

Suddenly Kon, Cassie and Bart whip their heads towards each other, exclaiming at the same time: "Dick!"

"Language?" Tucker, who had startled at the sudden yelling and is firmly hiding behind Danny again.

"No, Tim's brother, Richard—he goes by Dick." Cassie explains as the three of them separate to look under furniture and through the house for the older man. They collectively ignore the whispered on purpose? from the other trio.

"He was with us when we got snapped here." Tim yawns, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. "Who are you?"

The new trio introduces themselves to Tim as the rest of them split. Kon is looking under the beds, Bart is upstairs, and Cassie is opening cabinets in the kitchen, if the sounds are to be believed.

"This doesn't really feel like Desiree's usual fare." Sam taps her foot, for some reason the only dwarf who was able to keep her own black studded combat boots. It looks comical paired with her brown shirt and red pants. At least the black belt matches?

"How would you," Tim yawns, standing up and leaning heavily against Kon when he comes back around. "Usually…get rid of her?"

"Usually Phantom would deal with her." Tucker mumbles as Sam starts to pace. She's no longer sneezing now that they're inside, which seems odd.

"Who's Phantom?" Bart's voice bounces as he descends the stairs back to join them. "He's not upstairs, by the way."

"He's Amity Park's local hero!" Danny flashes a gleaming smile, before frowning. "Truly a mystery why she's hanging out around Bludhaven."

"What were you guys-" Kon is interrupted by Sam, who knocks twice on the window she's stopped in front of.

"Uh, guys?" She's staring at something confusedly, "Is Dick��uh, black haired, wearing eye-searingly ugly patterns?"

"That's…" Tim yawns again, sluggishly making his way over to Sam, "probably…him."

"I think he's in the backyard?" Sam tilts her head, "and I think we've found our Snow White."

The seven of them gather quickly around the window, pushing and shoving and…

"Is that a fucking glass coffin?"

===

Jazz has fucked up.

Oooooh she's definitely fucked up.

How was she supposed to know Ghost Writer and Desiree just wanted to hang out?

How was she supposed to know that Desiree's cousin was Scheherazade?

How was she supposed to know Ghost Writer knew that infamous One Thousand and One Night's protagonist?

She just wanted to finally meet her online friend and talk about Jane Austen books, have dinner with her brother and his friends in Bludhaven after!

She really should have aimed better. Stupid thermos, Danny always made it seem so easy!

Now she's running around in this random forest trying to find her brother and his friends dressed like some kind of Prince.

Why do Princes wear such white tights? It's impractical is what it is, there's already a bunch of dirt on the back of her calves!

She's been in this forest for what feels like hours when she hears it; sweet salvation in the form of other people. Jazz frantically makes her way towards it.

"—Snow White?" A boyish voice asks.

"Well, he's certainly—achoo!—pretty enough for it." Sam is saying—is she with the others? "Even with all…that going on."

"At least Danny isn't in the coffin this time?" Tucker sounds unusually shy and timid—it makes Jazz quicken her steps and almost trip over tree roots at least twice.

"Hey—" An unfamiliar feminine voice cuts in, "Tucker, what does that mean?"

"Worry not, Cassie!" Danny! Oh sweet souls, Danny!! "It's an inside joke!"

"It's not really funny…" Another voice, sounding sleepy beyond compare and yawning like a "…is it?"

"Believe it or not," The mysterious feminine voice, Cassie cuts in. "He's usually the one in charge of the brain-cell. We're smart too, he just has no humor."

"I…" Another yawn, "...resent that."

"Tim just doesn't have that sense of whimsy!" That first boyish voice cuts in, ignoring who Jazz presumes is Tim.

"Does that mean we have to find a Prince?" Another masculine voice, angry and fed up, "In the forest?"

And, well, there's never been a better time for Jazz to stumble ass over kettle into the clearing.

"Jazz!" Her trio yells in greeting, rushing over to her as she rights herself. She blinks.

They're all…a lot smaller than she left them. No matter, hugs first, confusion later. (And crying/yelling much much later after that).

They're small enough for her to hoist all three into her arms, even as she notices the other four dwarves and the…glass coffin housing a fully grown man.

"What the—" Jazz whispers, eyeing the strangers.

"Are you the Prince?" Danny asks, and in this form he reminds her so much of when he was little—she wants to squeal but she won't, she won't.

"I think I am." Jazz answers, putting everyone down as they clamor to introduce the new kids and update her on the situation. Jazz, through years of dealing with her brother's trio, manages to understand and reciprocate the exchange of information.

"So I have to kiss him?" Jazz looks at the man, Dick, in the glass coffin dubiously. "I don't even know him?"

"This might be the first time someone's seen him and not kissed him on sight." Bart jokes, "Or, at least, not wanted to."

"Consent is important." Jazz scrunches up her face in consternation. "I will not subject someone to a kiss when they cannot consent."

"What about a kiss on the…hand?" Tim yawns, desperately trying to stay awake. "Nobody…said you had to kiss him on the…lips."

Jazz makes a face in thought. Hm. "What about you?"

"What…about me?" Jazz gestures at Dick when Tim looks at her in confusion.

"He's your brother, you love him, right?" Jazz picks up the sleeping man's hand. "Nobody said it had to be romantic love. Besides, again, I don't believe in love at first sight. I'm demi."

"Demi like, demigod?" Cassie's brow furrows. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Demi as in demi-sexual or-" Sam sneezes, "-demi-romantic."

Tim seems to think on that a moment, before shrugging. "I do love him. And I used to have a crush on him when I was little, before I got adopted." He picks up the hand and kisses it lightly.

"Oh dude, same." Connor laughs, turning to them. "I think everyone's had a crush on Dick before."

"Not me!" Cassie harrumphs to Bart's laughter and agreement. "Though I do love the guy."

"That doesn't count!" Connor huffs, "Lesbians and Aces are obviously excluded!"

"I'm Ace…" Tucker shyly raises his hand, making a little eep! sound when everyone turns to him. "And I, uhm, have eyes. He's real pretty…"

"Fairest of them all," Sam sniffles, sort of agreeing. "And all that."

"I think," Danny cuts in, "That you have no choice here Jazz. I'm sorry, but it doesn't seem like Tim's kiss is the solution!"

Jazz eyes the sleeping man once more, pursing her lips. No, she really doesn't think she'll do that. Pretty as he is, he's a stranger. And bodily autonomy is important, even if it's just his hand. It sounds like this guy has a lot of admirers, but nobody's actually said anything about how Dick himself feels about it.

Plus, he definitely looks at least a couple years older than her. Though it's hard to tell when you're in your mid twenties.

"Just think of it this way, Jazz." Danny tries to gently say, "You're saving his life, sort of. Like CPR."

Jazz hums, leaning over the man and observing the man's throat. Hm...

"What's she taking so long for?" Cassie whispers, to which Sam only sneezes in response.

Jazz grabs the man by the shoulders, sitting him up and…whack!

"Jazz!" The chorus of children yell at her, some even grabbing at her but she ignores them.

She gives the man's back another smack! And then another, and another until—

Hack! Dick coughs out the piece of poisoned apple lodged in his throat, taking in deep breaths as Jazz rubs his back in support.

"Th-thanks." Dick wipes at his mouth, smiling up gratefully at Jazz. She smiles back, before stepping away to let Tim and his little friends crowd over Dick and give him hugs.

Sam, Tucker and Danny make their way to Jazz, and they watch the reunion fondly.

"How'd you know that would work?" Danny asks her, laughing as Jazz shrugs.

"In the original fairy tale, the Prince discovers Snow White in her glass coffin and decides to keep her because she's so beautiful." Jazz bares her teeth in disgust. "The guards that were with him were kind of clumsy and dropped the casket on its corner, dislodging the apple piece from Snow White's throat. She wakes up, and then they get married."

"That's…" Tucker whispers, shuddering.

"Yeah." Jazz rubs her arms. "Figured I'd give it a shot. Thankfully it worked."

Just as Dick gets out of the coffin, the world around them starts to waver. The dwarven teenagers flicker until they're bigger, almost glitching into their original sizes and proportions. Sam stops sneezing, Tim stops yawning and falling asleep (though he still sports eyebags the size of Guam), and Danny's little blanket sheet disappears.

Jazz, Dick, and seven 17 year olds suddenly find themselves in the middle of the streets of Bludhaven, in the outdoor seating of the local restaurant all of them were eating at before the whole debacle.

Ghost Writer and Desiree are sitting at one of the tables, having tea.

"Well, that was certainly quick." Ghost Writer mumbles, Desiree groaning as she puts down her cup. "I thought we'd have at least a couple more hours."

"I knew I shouldn't have set win conditions." Desiree pouts. "We were just getting to the good part!"

"Every story has to have some kind of conclusion." Ghost Writer argues, jabbing his mug at her. "Besides, I can just-"

"Yeah. Nope." Danny deadpans, grabbing his backpack and jabbing a hand into the bag. "Fuck you."

Before Ghost Writer Desiree can do more than charge an ecto-blast, Danny pulls out a Fenton Thermos and aims it expertly at the two, sucking them up with very little fuss and muss. Jazz is not jealous or mad about it. At all.

As long as she doesn't have to wear those stupid white tights again, everything is A-OK.

"Well." Dick breathes, putting his hands on his hips like some kind of mom. "That was...anti-climactic."

"What the hell was that?" Tim asks Danny, trying to get a closer look at the thermos, "Is that a thermos?"

Jazz looks up at the restaurant, waving over a sever as she takes a seat and beckons for everyone else to do the same. The others start to squish in a couple tables and take seats.

"I'm sure everyone has questions," Jazz smiles up at the waitress in thanks as she passes out menus. "But first, since it's still…" She checks her watch, "just past three, lets have a late lunch, shall we?"

"As long as there's no apple pie for dessert." Dick laughs, opening up his own menu to peruse.

"As you wish!" Jazz rolls her eyes, grinning. Everyone at the table groans.

[mere-mortifer-writing]

I've dreamt about you (nearly every night)

Pairing: Sanji x Reader Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 7.900+ words Themes: PWP; huddling for warmth; getting together; mutual pining; fingering; intercrural sex; dirty talking; sub!Sanji, cis female reader Notes: This is my first reader insert fic in this fandom and my first one in general for a long while. I don't use Y/N in here, nor did I add physical descriptions for the reader of any kind (I tried my damn hardest) but she is explicitly a cis woman! Summary: The crew is caught in a storm awfully unprepared for such bad weather. Sanji offers you to take his sleeping bag, but when he's the one left out in the cold, you decide you can't let that happen. Can't you just share, and stay warm together?

Written for @infixop. This is my gift to @jsitmfgoesnsfw. I hope you enjoy it! I tried to put as much things you like in it as possible xoxo

Find me on Ao3

The cold bites like a starved dog.

You’ve got nothing more than a few inches of your face exposed to the mean night air, and that’s all it takes to freeze you down to your bone marrow despite the tent you’re in. For no longer than thirty seconds, you manage to shuffle lower into your sleeping bag, bathing in your own body warmth, but then the need to look at the silhouette impressed on your tent’s thin sides overpowers you once again.

The two lanterns still lit outside paint Sanji’s figure in a stark shadow. He’s sitting out there, in the freezing cold, keeping an eye out on the Sunny—at least, that’s the excuse he came up with when he gave up his own spot for your comfort. Even with how fuzzy his outline is, you can see him tremble, one foot tapping anxiously on the ground with no respite. He was chain-smoking earlier, but he must have run out of cigarettes at some point.

“Fuck, Sanji,” you utter under your breath. You’re in your little tent, almost cozy in Sanji’s sleeping bag, and he’s fucking dying out there. He’s more sensitive to low temperatures than other members of the crew, and well aware of it. In the morning, before they started exploring this atoll, he’s one of the few that insisted on bringing all the camping equipment the crew is now using.

They had thrown anchor when the sun was still high in the sky, bathing the little alcove and the surrounding forest in the warmth of a spring day, but it took Nami only a moment to study the winds and the cloud patterns above them and declare, with whatever sixth sense she’s been gifted with, that  by night they’d be surrounded by winter weather. She was right—but she undersold it. By a lot.

Zoro—who says any opportunity to survive challenging environments is an opportunity he’ll take—and Luffy—who just couldn’t be bothered to pack properly—barely changed their outfits before leaving the Sunny. You had least layered a bit and brought scarves and gloves with you, but that’s about it.

Meanwhile, Sanji rounded up all the sleeping bags and tents they had, saddling Usopp and Franky with sharing the burden with him. It had seemed unnecessary to bring so much extra weight for what was supposed to be a casual stroll on this little speck of an island, only big enough to keep Luffy’s attention for a day maximum, but thank God he decided to play it safe.

It was like the Sun decided to set early today, aided by a sudden deluge of dark clouds. A blizzard started raging in the distance, right above the poor Sunny, impeding the crew’s safe return to their warm beds and an even warmer meal, so you had to camp out in the open for the night. Neither the snow nor the rain reached the tundra-like stretch of open land you found yourselves in, but the cold was—and is, even worse now—brutal. Chopper was deeply apologetic to be the only one enjoying the situation.

The tents were set up quickly, and they offered a little comfort, but the ground you are all trying to sleep on remains frigid at best. Nami, who borught her own sleeping bag, managed to squeeze Robin right next to her for the night, but there was no hope of letting a third person in.

“Let’s switch. I’ll be okay with sitting nearby and keeping watch, at least for a while,” Robin tried to propose, and from the gasp Sanji let out upon hearing that, one might have thought she just shot him in the chest. 

“Nonsense!” he exclaimed, blonde fringe flying left and right as he emphatically shook his head no. “Mon ange, you take mine. I insist.” 

Your mouth snapped closed at his preemptive rebuttal. In hindsight, you could have tried to manipulate his chivalry and convinced him that sharing was the perfect solution, but in the moment you lacked the courage. Strange how his eagerness to put the women around him on a pedestal has somehow looped around to make him intimidating—for you, at least; Nami and Robin certainly have no such issues. He thinks of you so highly, and the idea of shattering that perception by saying or doing the wrong thing often paralyzes you.

Now, that proposal that died in your mouth is all you can think about. We could sleep together, would you mind? He would have blushed at the double entendre and caved in quickly if you had made your tone sweet enough.

Another minute of your thoughts spinning around the same centre, another minute of running a nail over the edge of your teeth to dispel nervous energy, and you decide that neither you in here, nor Sanji out there, can take any more of this. 

You extend an arm outside of the warm cocoon of the bag, and stretch it as far as you can to open the tent a bit. The sound of the zip raising up a few inches makes Sanji’s silhouette shift as he looks in your direction, and before you can actually call out for him he’s moving closer on his own. 

One gloved hand goes to close the zip again. “Wait, Sanji,” you whisper to stop him. 

He stops trying to pull. “Oh, darling, y-you’re awake?” You can feel your face fall into a grimace at how shaky his voice is. “I thought the wind was making your t-tent open or something.”

“No, no, it was me.” Without having to slip out of the sleeping bag all the way, you try to tap the zip further up and open. A frigid tendril of wind snakes in and makes you wince. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Me? ‘M doing just fine,” Sanji says. Just because he’s lying with ease, it doesn’t mean it sounds convincing. “Was I, uh, keeping you awake…?”

Your heart squeezes in your chest when Sanji lowers his head to peer at you through the opening. He’s trying to bury his whole face in the puffy neck of his coat, but there’s a constant tremor in his jaw like he’s attempting to keep his teeth from chattering. Eyes large and round, darker spots on his cheeks and nose that would be a bright red if colours weren’t so muted by the moonlight—he’s probably the cutest he’s ever been. And so visibly uncomfortable.  

“Come in here for a while.” You meant to first reassure him that he hadn’t woken you, but the invitation tumbles out of you before you can manage. “You must be freezing. Come on, just a few minutes.”

“I don’t want to let the cold in here…” he protests weakly, but you can see that he wants to say yes. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth as you repeat your plea to stay with you and warm up. “I guess—if you really don’t mind—”

You limit yourself to a wide smile when he finally acquiesces, and that’s all you can do to avoid tugging him down to lay on top of you before he’s even managed to fully crawl inside. You watch him as he squats in a spot as far away from you as he can. He takes off his gloves, sighing in relief when they’re not wrapped around his hands any longer.

“We should have all listened to you, we were not prepared well for this weather,” you say softly. You frown when he starts trying to blow warm air on his fingers. “Did your gloves not help you at all?”

“They may have gotten a little wet, it’s really humid outside,” he admits, sending a small but sincere smile your way. 

“Sanji…” you sigh. You hope you don’t sound exasperated, since all you are is pained that a boy you hold so dear was literally left out in the cold like an abandoned puppy, but Sanji still looks a little downtrodden at your tone. “Can you come here, please? Why are you so far away?”

“I don’t want you to get cold!” he reiterates, but still shuffles near you at your request. The groundsheet crinkles under his knees. “Darling, I promise you I’m fine—”

He’s finally close enough that you can grasp one of his hands. You gasp at the complete lack of human warmth in his fingers. Sanji’s hands, so precious to him, almost blue from the cold? And he thinks you’ll just curl up in his sleeping bag and doze off while he suffers? 

“Holy shit, that must feel awful.” You free your other hand and bring it out of the bag enough to gesture that he should let you hold both of his, and he complies easily. The image of him kneeling next to you, hunched over so you can rub some life back into his fingers, while still mostly buried in a plush lime-green sleeping bag must look funny to an external viewer. All you can think about is how to convince him to strip down a little and get in there with you. 

He gently interlocks his fingers with yours when your movements slow down. “That’s so much better, angel, thank you. I’ll change my gloves and be more careful not to get them wet—”

Holding him like this, no matter the context, goes to your head. “No way I’m leaving you to freeze.” Before you can consider if the move is too revealing, you swipe your thumbs down the line of his index fingers, trying both to soothe him and draw him closer by the sheer strength of your longing alone. “You don’t have to keep guard or anything, you can just use your Observation Haki—”

“I promised Nami-san…” he protests, eyes downcast to stare at where you’re touching. You can’t tear your gaze away from his face—from the redness, first induced by the cold, now spreading all over from being alone with you. 

“Not true, you told Nami you’d stay awake and keep an eye out. You think she wants you to die of hypothermia or something?”

Sanji sighs. “No, of course not. And I guess if I catch a cold I won’t be able to properly take care of my favourite ladies.”

That drags a smile out of you. Sanji never misses an opportunity to act too cute for his own good. “Think of it however you need, as long as you get in here quickly.”

“In where?” he asks, one curled eyebrow raising tall on his forehead. “In there?”

“It’s your sleeping bag, and there’s some more space in here,” you try to explain. A good dose of mortification falls like lead into your stomach. Was that too forward? Have you been pressing too hard on the topic this entire time?

Sanji’s mouth hangs open for a moment, and his hands go slack in your hold. You take it as a sign to release him, some more of your courage waning. “More space—to fit both of us? In there? Together?”

“Sanji,” you groan, shuffling deeper down into your cocoon, hoping at this point that a portal will open at the bottom of it and swallow you whole. 

You can’t get over the embarrassment now that Sanji is acting so bewildered by the notion. Part of you, no matter how much insecurity you harbor about Sanji desiring you as much as you desire him—at times the thought feels absurd— believed he’d jump at the chance to get in bed with a girl, even just to sleep.

“No, hey, don’t hide! Come back up, darling,” Sanji coos. “I don’t want to say no, obviously.” Maybe he read your mind. “Why would I want to say no to such a wonderful offer?” Or maybe that strangely confident part of you was right. 

“Come in here, then,” you say without reemerging from the depths of the plush fabric. You realise anew how warm it is under there, and your blood starts pumping faster at the thought of Sanji squeezing in next to you and cuddling close to share that warmth. “So we can both sleep.”

“I—okay. I need to take off some of my clothes, is that okay? Or you’ll be the one freezing.”

You nod before you remember that he can’t see you. “Y-yeah, no problem.” He could strip naked and let you kiss every inch you can reach in such proximity—that would be ideal—but you’ll take a Sanji with three layers on over no Sanji any day of the week. 

You listen to the sounds of shuffling, metal buttons popping open, and quiet curses when his coat drops to the floor and Sanji can feel the cold tenfold. You pretend you’re being very patient, but the way you’re tapping the toes of one foot against the others tells another story. 

“Darling?” he calls, hesitating after he’s taken his shoes off. “My trousers are kind of damp, I can’t—”

“Take those off, too, then,” you interrupt him with the most indifferent, placid tone you can fake. Sanji wears shorts sometimes, when they’re in a stretch of hot weather on the Grand Line, but even his swimwear is usually on the longer side and quite baggy. You’ve only ever seen a few inches above his knees, so your excitement at the prospect of seeing his bare legs borders on comical.

Not that you see much of anything now, either. Sanji manages to take off his pants while hiding most of his body from view, as if he needs to be ashamed of anything, with a physique like his, and the dim light blurs the details of what you can observe. You think his boxers have a heart print on it, but it’s not a safe bet. 

Sanji crawls closer to the edge of the sleeping bag, and you signal once again that he should get in by unzipping the side. “Thanks,” he says, voice huskier than his usual. 

Your breath stays suspended in your lungs as he slips inside next to you. Despite his efforts to not touch you, the space he’s trying to squeeze himself into is smaller than a single bed, and your sides slide together as he lays down. He murmurs a few sorry’s as it happens, but his earlier protests seem to have died down completely.

When the warmth has had a moment to sink into him, he lets out a tremulous sigh of relief—it’s obvious that he needed a break from the harsh weather, and still he never would have asked for it. Your heart constricts painfully at the tremors that shake Sanji's body. He's still trying so hard to keep his teeth from chattering, but there's little he can do for everything else. 

“You've got to stop,” you beg. There's enough anger over Sanji's self-sacrificing tendencies to turn it into a command. 

Sanji tries and fails to shuffle back within the confines of the sleeping bag. “Sorry,” he whispers shakily, “it should get better soon.”

Frustration and fondness form an unlikely mix that grips tight around your throat. “No, no, Sanji, come on.” You move a foot blindly, hooking it around Sanji's calf to still his retreat. “I didn't mean stop shaking or moving. Stop doing stuff like this to yourself.”

“Ah, Mellorine—” Sanji mumbles, and you know, you feel it in your bones, he's going to try and downplay his near-hypothermia and shower you with compliments to deflect your worry. Be it the late hour, the pressure behind your eyes that demands you close them and sleep; be it how cold Sanji still feels or the sweet ache in your bones at being so close to him—whatever it is that imbues you with courage, you decide you won't let him get away with that this time. 

“I don't wanna hear it.” You were hoping to get it out with a firmer tone, but you sound on the verge of tears instead. “Shut up and let me help.”

You reach out, fingers bumping into his shoulder, the soft material that surrounds you pushing and pulling. It seems more than happy to get you closer, folding over your bodies as you shift enough to feel Sanji's chest on yours. 

Shielded by the shadows that cover your face, your lids flutter at the novel sensation. You'd feel ashamed of the tendrils of pleasure slowly pulsing in time with your heartbeat, since, after all, you got this man in your sort-of bed for medical-adjacent reasons, but…it's Sanji. He's never shown anything but breathless gratefulness at being touched by a woman. 

Just in time to squash any lingering doubt, you hear his breath hitch at the contact. He dissolves into a long shiver that breaks his resolve, and suddenly you're gripping him tighter, nose in his fine hair, knees knocking together before you raise one thigh over his. 

Sanji moans softly, in obvious and innocent pleasure now that your body heat is enveloping him properly. “Oh, ‘t feels so nice,” he stutters over your neck, “you really are an angel. Thank you, darling.” 

You almost thank him back on instinct. You might feel nice to him, but he's perfect in your arms, cuddled up as best as he can against you like he wants to sink into you. Gladly, you hold him tighter, burning up now that you have him in such close proximity—your face might as well be on fire, heart pumping hot blood like an overworked engine. He must be able to hear it. Surely all the layers of clothing between you are not enough to muffle the sound of it exploding out of your ribs. 

“You're so silly,” you mumble instead. His hair smells superficially like faint smoke, and like artificial mint from his shampoo when you brush your nose between the soft locks. “Your hands okay?”

You barely bite back a pet name at the end of the sentence. Sanji shuffles to get his arms folded between the two of you, and his closed fists are frigid when they bump into your stomach. “Mh, they've felt better, but it's okay. I’m also pretty sure my toes are all attached, but who knows—’t’s not like I can feel them.” 

You huff a laugh, and his face opens into a boyish smile. You can't see it, only sense his cheeks where his face is touching the naked skin of your neck. ”You joke, but we better check.” At the bottom of the sleeping bag, where there’s more room for movement, you have to swipe your own feet forward before you manage to meet his. Sanji, for all his insistence on being ready for bad weather, hadn’t bothered with proper boots or heavy socks. You hiss in sympathy at how cold his naked ankles really are when you touch them. 

“Sanji, your leg can catch on fire, how did it get this bad?” you mumble into his hair. 

Sanji’s little content sigh that he lets out when your warmer skin stays in contact with his just about breaks you. “I gotta be at least a little mad for the fire thing, Mellorine,” he explains, dismissing the topic with a gentle shake of his head. “You shouldn’t worry so much about me, I’ll be just fine. Don’t let me keep you awake any longer, please.”

You bite your bottom lip to hold back your own plea, wishing you could infuse the very air around the two of you with all that joyful, desperate fondness Sanji evokes in you. He could soak it all up, too tangible to doubt, and he’d feel soothed and weightless as if he’d just lowered his tired body into a hot bath. Frightened as you are to speak your feelings for him out loud, the best you can do is fumble to hold his hands. “We’ll both rest when you’re all better.” Before you can second-guess your intentions, you bring Sanji’s hands under the hems of the shirt and tank top you’re wearing. The first overwhelming impression is that you just shoved ten icicles up against your flank, but the knowledge that a part of Sanji’s body you’ve fantasised about one too many times is now under your clothes is enough to make you melt. 

“Keep ‘em there, it’s warmer,” you choke out quickly, not trusting what your voice will reveal if you let your desire to fully set in. 

“Miss, I—that’s—” Sanji stutters. His palms press more firmly into the dip of your waist, only for a moment. “You’re too good to me,” he settles on eventually.

Your vision is tinted blue from the moonlight filtering through the tent’s walls, and Sanji’s humid breath trickling down the collar of your shirt is making a haze settle over all your thoughts; all in all, this is starting to feel more like a dream you’ve had a thousand times. The oneiric atmosphere is not conductive to make well-thought out choices—but maybe that’s what you’ve needed this whole time. You could have had Sanji like this months ago if you’d found the courage to make the first move. 

While he’s mumbling more of his thanks, throwing a couple more Miss in there like the title is not making your cunt throb, you grab both his wrists and slide his hands up towards your solar plexus. You’re not wearing a bra, which Sanji notices with an accidental brush of his fingertips and remarks on with a gasp that silences his words. He lets you properly slide an arm under his neck, and soon enough you have him moulded comfortably to your frame—entwined legs included. 

“Try to rest, ‘kay?” you tell him. Your thumb swiping back and forth on his nape seems to do the trick; Sanji’s one visible eye slips shit after a couple of slow blinks.

“You, too. Goodnight, angel.”

He goes out like a light. You try to fall asleep, you really do—perhaps it’s physically not possible to do so when your body is firing on all cylinders, begging you to get some sort of sexual relief. Just knowing that Sanji’s legs are naked, meanwhile you are wearing stupid fucking clothes that keep you from feeling his skin on yours, is driving you insane. A couple of minutes of staring off into nothingness while listening to Sanji’s steady breathing calms you down just a notch, so at least now your heartbeat isn’t an active bomb threat anymore, but you’re a far cry from relaxed.

After a while, Sanji starts grumbling and moving in his sleep. You attempt to soothe him by petting his hair, whispering sweet nothings that he won’t remember, but it only gets worse until he wakes up with a confused call of your name. 

He stiffens for a second upon opening his eyes, and you let him move back a little from your embrace. Is he still in pain from the hours spent outside? Were you touching him too much while he slept?

“You okay?” you ask tentatively.

“Mh? Yeah, sorry! I woke you up again?” Sanji refuses to meet your eye. His fingers twitch over your stomach, and he seems shocked to find them still there under your shirts, right before sliding them out. 

The loss of contact saddens you more than you thought possible. “Kind of, I had just dozed off,” you lie. “It looked like you were having a nightmare, though, I was worried.”

“It did? I don’t remember what I was dreaming.” You swear a blush spreads on his face, but the faint moonlight doesn’t help you decipher his expression that well. “I’m good now, darling. Let’s go back to sleep, I promise I won’t wake you up again—I wouldn’t want my princess to be tired tomorrow.”

His princess. That’s a low blow—you can’t argue with him after that. You only nod, bidding him goodnight again, and you’re gifted one of those beautiful smiles of his. 

Determined to not act like a freak this time, and just relax and doze off for real instead of sniffing his hair or whatever the hell you were about to do earlier, you try to settle in a more comfortable position. The goal is not achieved, since you accidentally press one thigh over Sanji’s front, and feel—

“Ah, fuck,” Sanji says under his breath when you gasp. He’s very clearly hard, enough that you can half guess the length of his cock, that’s how obvious it is. 

So he was blushing, and he was not having a nightmare. How did you miss this when you were half on top of him? 

If you were aroused before, it pales in comparison to the sudden, violent heat that starts in your stomach and quickly pools low between your legs. It’s like you got sucker-punched by desire, so much so that you lose your breath with that gasp, and can’t find words to defuse the situation. 

Sanji tries to shuffle away from you, instinctively raising on one elbow like he wants to jump out of the bag. The way he’s pulling on the fabric makes you roll closer to him, and it’s all you can do not to moan when suddenly not only you can feel his erection, but your cunt is pressed so, so nicely over his own thigh. The unfairness of the situation hits you: Sanji can’t hide his physical reaction, meanwhile you’ve been getting wetter and wetter since he got in there with you, and he’ll remain none-the-wiser unless you shove his hand down your underwear. 

The thought of those long, lithe fingers playing with your clit almost makes you black out. You’re trying to stay lucid, but you’d like to see someone else coping with a wet dream come to life. 

“Damn it, I—I’m sorry, I can’t control it. I mean, I can control myself! Just, not it,” Sanji babbles, clearly building up to something close to panic. “It’ll go away, I promise, sorry. I mean…okay, it’ll go away if I stop touching you, that’s what I was trying to do. You’re just…so soft and warm. And pretty, duh! Oh God, why am I still talking. Make it stop, please.”

You snake a hand up his chest until you can press your palm over Sanji’s mouth. You catch him mid-word, but the sentence dies down quickly with a tortured bitten-back lament.

“Calm down,” you say softly. If you sound breathier than intended, it's because you can't hope to hide all signs of your demanding arousal. “It's okay, Sanji. You didn't do anything bad, did you?”

Sanji stares at you for a moment with huge watery eyes, the usually hidden one left more visible by his fringe all knocked askew. 

“Did you?” you prompt him.

His lids drop lower, as he exhales a warm breath over your hand as he relaxes his body at your request. He shakes his head without removing your palm from over his mouth.

You do it for him. “Everything’s fine.” Sanji should never look this unsure and embarrassed, especially around you. You adore him, he’s your favourite everything. Isn’t it obvious? “Sweetheart, lay back down. You’re letting the cold in.”

Sanji’s eyes go wide again, be it because of the first pet name you’ve dared use for him, or the reminder that his seated position is keeping the sleeping bag half open. With one smooth move, he’s laying on his side once again, one hand clutched on the open hem to squish it closer to your bodies. 

“Why aren’t you kicking me out?” he whispers after he’s settled. He bites back a sound when you shift your hips just enough to satiate your curiosity—yes, he’s still hard, and yes, touching his cock even through all the layers of clothes has the same electrifying effect on you the second time as it did the first. “It’s going to be like this all night, Miss,” he commiserates, a little whine behind his tone that snaps whatever composure you had left. 

“Sanji, are you really that blind?” you ask in the near darkness. You cup his cheek in one hand, tucking whatever you can of his fringe behind his ear. “You haven’t figured it out?”

He frowns like he’s either worried or confused, and part of you can’t blame him—you’ve never  spoken to him this way, voice trembling with excitement. You enjoy what you can see of Sanji’s flushed face framed by your fingers, then you close the distance to kiss him. 

With great effort, you keep that first touch brief and chaste. The tip of his nose is cold where it presses gently on your cheek, his lips a little dry, but you enjoy immensely both that perfect cupid bow of his and the tickling sensation of his moustache. When you pull back a millimetre, which is all the distance you can bear to put between you, you’re awash in goosebumps and hot shivers. “I want you, too,” is all you can manage to say to fill the silence.

“Oh,” Sanji replies, “oh, I must still be dreaming.” He nuzzles into your hand, his own freeing the sleeping back to clutch your wrist instead. “I hope I don’t wake up too soon.”

A dopey smile opens on your face—you’re sure you look stupid with love and desire—and you want to put two coherent words together and tell this beautiful smooth-talker that he’s very much awake, or stuck in your dream if anything, but Sanji kisses you again. 

This one doesn’t end quickly; if you have it your way, this one won’t end at all. Sanji tilts his head and slots your lips together with a wanton moan muffled by the contact. Your finger sinks in the soft locks of his hair, slipping like fresh water between your digits as you caress him. There’s not enough space to move freely, to roll on top of him or pull him until he can lay all his weight on you—phantom feelings you’ve chased through your daydreams hundreds of times, and are now just out of reach, but what you get is enough. It’s everything. Sanji moving his arm out of the way so he can wrap you in a half-hug and squish your chests together; your leg pushed between his so you can properly get his flat abdomen and hard cock right up against you. 

His breath hitches as his hips roll forward. With the grip you have on his hair, you instinctively tug his head back, breaking the wet kiss just in time to hear his breathy moan. “No, please, more. Wanna kiss you more,” he begs—and really, who would say no to such a request?

You lick his bottom lip just to put to rest the demon that once made you stare at Sanji’s side profile while he cooked for way too long, whispering in your ear his lips are so plump, wouldn’t they look good on a girl? You don’t know about that, but they are extremely kissable.

At the time you thought that Sanji, who strives to be a real gentleman—emphasis on the man—would be freaked out by those thoughts…seeing how he’s behaving now, maybe that’s not the case. Maybe he’d enjoy being talked to and handled like a precious little thing. Still, you abstain for now, horrified by the idea that you could ruin this long-awaited moment, and content yourself with kissing him silly.

Well. Calling what you're doing to him kissing is an euphemism; you're licking into his mouth as if with enough effort you could taste his soul, and when the push and pull of your bodies separates your lips, he lets you curl your tongue around his in the open air before you pull back properly. 

“‘M so hard, I could come just from this,” Sanji mumbles while you move down to suck over the pulse point on his neck. Your eyes are closed, but they still roll back into your skull when the fading scent of his aftershave fills your senses. 

“You won't have to,” you promise. You grasp at him blindly through the tangle of your limbs and the obstructive plush fabric all around. Sanji, sweet angel, perfect boy, arches to push his hips right into your palm. 

You let out a giggle and a dreamy sigh on the tail end of it when you manage to properly palm his hard cock, even if just above his boxers. You’d be embarrassed by the sound if you were lucid. There are many times when your affection for Sanji simmers gently and far away from lust, but this isn't one of those times.

Sanji stiffens at the first stroke you clumsily give his cock, just to quickly melt again in your arms. “Please, let me touch you, too.” His hands run down your form until he can hook his fingers into the waistline of your pants. “I want you to feel good with me.”

You nod with an enthusiastic hum of assent against the skin of his neck. The first touch of Sanji's fingertips on the naked skin usually covered by the hem of your underwear almost makes you jolt. You follow suit, shoving your hand inside his boxers. “Oh, fuck, yesyesyes,” Sanji mumbles before you’ve even done anything, just closed your fist around the tip of his cock. He’s leaking just enough to smooth the way as you play with him, teasing strokes and swipes of your thumb on the slit. 

It’s not that you’re being mean on purpose, eking out his pleasure like he might just run out if you get too greedy—you’re just so distracted by what he’s doing to you. Already, he had the unfair advantage of your near-obsession with his hands, born mostly from his insistence that they must be reserved for loving acts. He usually means cooking, of course, but Sanji has never hesitated to hold, carry, protect and serve the women in his life with his hands…so can you be blamed for getting ideas? You feel vindicated for each dirty thought you’ve ever had about them in the here and now. As soon as you raise your thigh high on his hip to leave him some space, Sanji slides his hand fully into your panties and cups your pussy like he’s cherishing being allowed to touch you so intimately. He doesn’t leave you waiting for something more substantial, quickly moving to sink his middle finger between your labia, gathering the copious amount of slick wetness. You have one moment to wish he had just pushed inside you before he starts drawing circles over your clit instead, and then the choice to just let him do whatever he wants is easily made. 

“How are you so wet for me? I barely touched you,” he asks with a tone that should be reserved for his first glimpse of the All Blue. 

You almost laugh at that. “I’ve been wet since you took off your pants,” you admit, “and then you kept calling me Miss—”

Sanji tilts his head to make eye contact with you, forcing your mouth away from the delectable line of his neck. “Wait, you like being called Miss? Really?” He has no business sounding shyly pleased; you suspect he uses the title specifically to elicit this sort of reaction—or is it that you have a heightened appreciation for it? You’ve never thought to ask the other girls what they think about it…Nami’s teasing over it would be brutal.

“Don’t take too much advantage of it!” Your pout robs the intimation of its strength, but Sanji’s eyes drop to stare at your lips like he’s hungry to get another taste, and you finish off the attempt at distracting him with a good series of strokes up and down his cock that he seems to really appreciate. He lets out a guttural moan that you’re sure whoever is sleeping in the tent next to you must have heard even above the wind now raging outside.

Sanji must take your renewed efforts as a sign to up the ante himself, and finally he slips a finger inside you. He figures out roughly two seconds in that quick and shallow thrusts make you writhe in pleasure, knowledge he has no qualms abusing until you’re shaking, lingering on the precipice of an orgasm. 

You’re still trying to give him the attention he deserves, but you know your movements over his cock have gone artless and a bit sloppy. “Mmghfuck, Sanji—” you moan through your teeth, biting the neckline of his shirt. You want to kiss him and lick wherever you can but your body is acting on its own. You think you add something along the lines of gonna come, just for you, baby, you want that? but you can’t be sure; maybe you’re just mewling nonsense with your face hidden in his neck. 

Whatever he hears, it’s enough to get Sanji very excited. “Yes, holy fuck, you’re perfect. So good for me.” You don’t know how he does it, but in a quick move he lifts you to lay more heavily on top of him with his free arm, locking it around your waist to keep you still. He’s got two fingers pumping in and out of you with no reprieve, but he hazards a guess and slides them out to focus on your clit again. In an ideal situation you’d like both things at the same time—hell, in an ideal situation you’d be bouncing on his cock already—but at this point you want to come, and being played with like this will get you there. You're clutching both hands around his sides now, palming at his abs, and Sanji’s erection is pressed tight over your hip. He doesn’t complain, taking advantage of how his underwear is riding too low on his hips to grind against you and seek out some friction.

“Like this okay, darling?” he asks with a murmur in your ear. You nod fervently. “Fuck, I really can’t believe this. My whole hand is wet, you’re dripping. Next time—can I—I want to lick until you’re coming on my tongue, I need to know what you taste like.”

Your eyes fly open, all the muscles in your legs and abdomen tensing with pleasure at Sanji’s words, the rumble of his voice thick with desire, the mental image of his blond head buried between your legs. That almost does you in, but the promise of a next time brings a realization—now I can have him like this again and again and again—that makes you fall over the edge. You come with your cheek pressed on his solid chest, one of Sanji’s hands now closed around the back of your neck, your voice stuck in your throat. Wave after wave of shivers run down your spine, wracking your body even as you’re coming down from the high, because Sanji won’t stop rubbing wet circles over your clit. 

“Stop, stop, I need a breather,” you complain, trying to escape his touch—but not really. Even as you’re supposedly squirming away from him, between the stifling top of the sleeping bag, and your leg locked around his hips, it’s clear that you’re right where you want to be. 

Sanji relents, sliding his fingers out of your now-ruined underwear. “Sorry, my love, you just sound so good while lost in pleasure.” He squeezes you in a full hug, pressing a few kisses over the crown of your head. “I can’t believe you let me do that…”

“I didn’t let you do anything. And there’s nothing strange about a woman wanting you like this, Sanji.” You tilt your head up, trying to meet his eye. “You know that, right?”

Shily, he allows the eye contact. You wish it wasn’t so dark in here, but the stronger winds must have brought clouds to cover the moon, and the lanterns Sanji had lit outside had long since died. You can’t see the stunning blue of his irises. 

“If you say so, darling,” he says, much to your chagrin. You hate how often you have witnessed Sanji being rejected, and in hindsight, by virtue of dismissing his advances as unserious, you have contributed to it. But he must have had his fair share of sexual experiences if he can bring a woman to orgasm as easily as he just did with you. 

You hope to have the opportunity to ask him about it. The urge to get to know him better, to be closer in all meanings of the terms, is stronger than ever—but now is not the time. You’ve got something else to focus on. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to believe me. I can just show it to you.” You manage with some more wiggling to get your pants and underwear at least halfway down your thighs. “You thought I was going to leave you hanging, baby? We can’t, uh, go all the way…not right now, I don’t have protection—” you start to explain while trying to slide a bit further up his body.

Sanji starts shaking his head, eyes as wide as saucers. “Oh, no, you don’t have to do anything for me! I can’t possibly ask for more!”

You kiss his lips to silence him. Sanji whines like a wounded animal when you raise yourself just enough to hold his cock again—he has not gone soft despite the lack of stimulation, which doesn’t shock you. This is Sanji, after all. 

“I’ll come and stain your clothes and make a mess,” he says all in a rush, his fingers spasming around your hips. 

“Ssh, it’s okay. Don’t worry about anything, just let me take care of you.” You bring his cock between your legs, forcing them open despite the pant’s waistline pressing into your skin; when you’ve got the hard length pressed over your bare cunt you get your hand back on Sanji’s chest and squeeze your thighs.

You don’t know what feels best for him—clenching your legs as tight as you can, or to leave more space to swing your hips up and down—but whatever you try, Sanji vocally loves it. Despite how cold he had felt when he first got in the sleeping bag with you, he’s now burning up just like you, and you’re both starting to sweat under your clothes. You can feel him leak more precum when you raise up as far as you can and squeeze just the head of his cock between your thighs.

“Oh God, Miss,” he breathes out at that move. His hands slide down to grope your ass, and the feeling of him kneading the muscle there to his heart’s content makes your eyelids flutter. 

“Feels good, baby?” you ask. The question is redundant, but dammit, you want to hear him say it.

Sanji nods with a hum, lips parted and his cute little curled brow frowning in pleasure. “Yes! Yes, you feel perfect, you’re so soft. I would stay between your legs forever if you let me.”

Oh, this man. He doesn’t know how badly he drives you crazy, even when he’s just babbling the first thought he had. You lean down to dip your tongue in his mouth, your hands firmly planted over his pecs. He accepts the kiss easily, moaning each time you nibble his bottom lip or snap your hips down with more vigor. You pull back with a string of saliva still pulling between your mouths. “Next time you can fuck me like this,” you promise. Your mind is clouded with lust again, and you have half a mind to reach down and angle his cock so you can sink down on him for real, but you hold onto sanity enough to avoid that. “As soon as we’re back on the Sunny. You want that?”

“I’ve wanted that since the first time I saw you,” Sanji replies. He grips your ass more firmly, guiding you into moving faster. “I’m so close, please, just keep going.”

You don’t know if you can believe something like that said in the heat of the moment, but either way, he’s just so cute. In your imagination Sanji has been everything from the experienced lover that blows your mind to a playful partner that laughs with you in the middle of sex, and you’ve loved all those versions that existed in your head—but if the real one is this submissive and needy, you have no complaint. Reducing such a powerful and competent man to a moaning mess is nothing short of intoxicating. 

Gladly, you keep doing what you’ve been doing. Sanji begs for another kiss, and keeps you so busy with it that you realise he’s coming only when he gasps open-mouthed over your lips. Hot liquid drips over the back of your thighs—you spare him the overstimulation he inflicted on you earlier, out of the goodness of your bleeding heart, but it’ll be a while before you even consider unclenching your legs from around his cock.

Sanji takes in one last shuddering inhale, and all but melts into the thin mattress underneath him. One wet kiss pressed to his cheek, and you feel him smile as wide as when he serves you, Nami, and Robin some snacks and he gets to listen to all three of you compliment his cooking at the same time. 

“Mh, it’s too hot in here now,” you note with humour, “don’t you think?”

“It’s ‘cause I’m burning up for you, Mellorine,” Sanji replies. You huff a laugh when he attempts an exaggerated wink, which doesn’t work when one of his eyes is completely covered by ruffled hair. 

You slide a little to the side, keeping in mind the streaks of come splashed on your skin as you do so. Sanji lets out a saddened sigh when you’re not pressed skin-to-skin with him anymore, but you’re still so close, your heads only barely peeking out of the sleeping bag. 

“You were right, you did make a mess.” You’ll have to take off your pants off and use them to clean yourself and Sanji somehow—or maybe he’ll volunteer his boxers for the job, still pushed barely down his legs—as soon as you have the energy. 

“Ah, sorry…I usually have very good manners, I swear.” The apology seems genuine, but Sanji is just too giddy to sound contrite. “Hey, can I ask you something? But I don’t want to ruin the moment.”

You smile at him. Now that the adrenaline peak is fading away, your eyelids are once again heavy and ready to stay closed for a good six hours at least. “You can’t ruin it, Sanji.”

“You have a lot of faith in me, darling.”

“Just ask, dummy.”

He clears his throat, embarrassed by his own stalling. “I know that I-I said something about doing this again first, but then you said it, too, and I just—I don’t know if you meant it. Because I did. So, would you like to…?”

“Would I like to? Baby, I’m gonna wear you out.” You would sound much more convincing if you weren’t actively falling asleep. “I’ll ask Franky to build a secret bedroom, and no one will ever see us again,” you mumble before being interrupted by a yawn.

You feel the warmth of Sanji’s fingers caressing your cheekbone, the line of your jaw. You smile thinking of how this started, with Sanji’s poor hands cold as ice shoved under your shirts. 

“I’ll ask you a few hundred times more in the morning, sweetheart. You’re about to pass out, I’ll clean you up myself, okay?”

You think you nod, or maybe you just hum a vague affirmative sound. The last thing you remember, with the rumbling of the wind and the distant raging of the ocean lulling deeper into sleep, is Sanji pressing a kiss on your neck, warm and heavy with affection. 

Omfg. I've had this idea for a while and jumped at the chance to write it when I saw that it could work for my assignment in this exchange. Huge shoutout to @twoflowers for passing onto me the "Sanji calls women 'miss' intstead of using honourifics" demon, as you can all see I've used and abused that idea.

[cherry-coffees]

On Thin Ice

academic rival!Caitlyn x reader

cw: 4.1K words | academic rivals/college AU, rivals to lovers, elements of girly girl!reader, Jayce/Caitlyn sibling dynamic, reader doesn't know how to skate, Cait teaches her, insane amounts of fluff

Part 1 | Part 3

As quickly as the autumn leaves change into winter snow, your relationship with Caitlyn Kiramman changes right along with it. 

The wind grows colder and windowpanes frost over, but the coldness in your interactions lessens. Once academic rivals who couldn’t stand each other have become academic rivals who…kind of can?

It starts with the decline of insults at each other: the way her glares whenever you walk into a classroom turn into amicable glances, and how snippy comments turn into casual conversations. You still feel a sense of pride when you outscore her on a test, of course: the flare of competition still remains. Caitlyn’s pride, too, causes her to be just as smug when she outscores you in return. Both of you have worked too hard to let your motivation for the top grades dwindle. Though, while you once hated that about her, there seems to be some sort of mutual respect ever since the completion of your project together.

It’s never something either of you have acknowledged out loud. No. Not when you come into class one day, taking your usual seat beside her, and Caitlyn’s eyes flick to your bag. “I like your bag,” she comments, eyeing the puffy, white tote bag as you set it down next to your chair. 

“Oh, um-" you’re not quite used to her compliments. Which, speaking of, have been steadily increasing over the past few weeks. “Thank you.”

Caitlyn merely nods, tapping her perfectly manicured fingernails against her laptop. “It suits you,” is all she says before the professor calls everyone’s attention, and you’re forced to focus on the notes you’re supposed to be taking.

Most days go something like this now. You’re not complaining: having one less thing to worry about in your already stressful classes is more than welcome. Though, the way Caitlyn’s gaze has gone from filling you with annoyance to making your stomach dip just the slightest bit is more than a little concerning.

One day, after an especially difficult history test, you’re a little dazed when you pack up your things to leave class. You’re an amazing student, always acing your tests and quizzes after a copious amount of studying and note-taking. But the questions on this one had been so out of nowhere, so unfairly challenging, that you hadn’t seen them coming.

You’re still reeling from the test when you’re barely out the door before a hand touches your shoulder from behind. You turn, expecting to see one of your friends, but your eyes widen when you see a flash of dark hair and icy blue eyes and realize that it’s Caitlyn. 

“Hey,” Caitlyn hesitates, fidgeting with her own bag. “Uh, I know we never talk about tests, but…those questions were insane, right?”

You just blink at her for a moment. It’s true: the two of you never speak about tests unless it’s to gloat the higher score over the other. You’re academic rivals, after all: it’s not some friendly competition. Usually, neither of you can stand to admit you didn’t know something to the other.

But something about Caitlyn’s honesty — though unexpected —  compels you to do the same. “Yeah,” you scratch at the hallway floor with the toe of your shoe. “I didn’t expect any of that; it was nothing like the study guide that we got last week.”

Caitlyn nods, the tension in her muscles seeming to loosen at your agreement. “Gods, yes,” she exhales in her accent that just screams her wealth from the rooftops. “I’m hoping I pass at the very least, and you know I’d never say that about anything.”

“Yeah,” a small smile tugs at your lips as you glance up at her. “I know.”

Caitlyn feels a slight pang in her chest. Whether it’s from the realization that (despite your rivalry) you actually do know her, or it’s the way your features actually look cute relaxed when you’re not glaring at her, she doesn’t know. All she knows is that when you start down the hallway, she finds herself falling into step beside you. Strange. Caitlyn Kiramman doesn’t follow anyone — especially her rivals.

Little does she know, a similar thought occurs to you as Caitlyn continues to talk about the test and you find yourself walking together. That’s already a weird realization on its own, let alone the thought that you actually like it. You quickly dismiss it with a subtle shake of your head.

If Caitlyn Kiramman holds a good conversation, then sue you.

“Right, well,” Caitlyn clears her throat as the both of you exit the building. “I’m headed back to my parents’. Good luck with your score, I suppose.”

“You too,” you bite the inside of your cheek. A few weeks prior, you’d have made some snarky comment about how Caitlyn can’t stay away from the wealthy lifestyle of her family for too long. But now, all you do is adjust your bag on your shoulder and offer her a small wave. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“See you,” Caitlyn murmurs, barely audible as you turn to head in the direction of your dorm. She stands there for a few moments longer, taking in the sight of how the light reflects off your hair, and how the wind tousles it, and how you draw your coat more tightly around yourself to brace the cold weather, and oh-

Caitlyn is so, completely, inevitably screwed.

|------» ~~~ «------| 

“Okay,” Caitlyn huffs to herself, pacing back and forth across her luxurious bedroom at the Kiramman manor. “It’s not a big deal. She’s just my rival. I’ve talked to her so many times, what’s different about talking to her outside of school?”

She stops in front of her full-length mirror that stands against her wall. “Would you want to hang out sometime?” Caitlyn tries, facing her own reflection and speaking as if another person is actually standing there. Namely, you. “No, that’s too casual,” she shakes her head before trying again. 

“Would you maybe want to study together sometime?” She makes another attempt, continuing to stare at her reflection as if it’ll somehow morph into you and answer back to her. Another shake of her head. “No, she’ll never want to study with her competition. Gods, I need to get it together.”

“Get what together?”

Caitlyn spins around to see her bedroom door ajar, Jayce’s head peeking in to witness her failed practice of talking to you. She must not have heard it open, too absorbed in her own thoughts. “Gods, Jayce,” she rolls her eyes. “I asked you here for a specific reason, not to scare me half to death.”

“Sorry,” Jayce grins, unapologetic as he moves across the room to join her. “You’re on edge today. What’s going on?”

“Well,” Caitlyn huffs, crossing her arms. “I just need some advice. Some, input on how I should talk to someone, if you will.”

Jayce’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. This is about a girl.”

“It is not,” Caitlyn shoots back, almost indignant at his assumption. But when Jayce gives her a look as if to say be serious, she sighs in defeat. “Fine. It’s about a girl.”

“Well, it seems the Caitlyn Kiramman is in love.” Jayce’s smile is almost smug from having guessed correctly, but he softens slightly as Caitlyn’s eyebrows contort in frustration — mostly with herself. “What’s wrong, Cait? Why do you need my advice for some girl you like?”

“Because,” Caitlyn’s eyes flick to the floor, almost like a child embarrassed of a wrongdoing. “She’s my competitor. We were always fighting over our grades until a few weeks ago.”

“What changed?”

“Well, we were working on a project, and I realized she wasn’t nearly as insufferable as I made her out to be,” Caitlyn’s cheeks tinge with color. “That and she’s super pretty and smart, and she always calls me on my shit and—"

“She’s perfect, then?” Jayce comments with a flick of his hand, but it’s more of a question than a statement.

Caitlyn shifts uncomfortably, her usually confident tone is replaced with an unusually shy mumble of confession. “Basically.”

Jayce sighs, moving to stand behind her reflection in the mirror. “So, this girl’s your rival. If you want to ask her out, then why don’t you just challenge her to another competition?”

“Another competition,” Caitlyn repeats, her eyebrows furrowing in thought. “How is competing with her going to win her heart?”

Jayce places a hand on her shoulder: the epitome of the big brother figure he’s always been to the much younger Caitlyn. “You take things too seriously, Sprout. It’s not a competition you try to win; it’s something you use to get her interested, and then you just…have fun. Playful competition, you know what I mean?”

Caitlyn considers this, opting to plop down on her stool as she leans her chin on her palm in thought. “I suppose I could try it.”

Her thoughtful expression quickly changes into one of slight annoyance as Jayce ruffles her hair. “Less thinking, more doing.”

|------» ~~~ «------|

“A ninety?” You spit out the words with distaste, unable to help yourself from voicing them alone when you see the 90 at the top of your latest test. 

Caitlyn glances over at you from her seat beside you. She holds back her usual glee at topping your score, and instead bites her lip to keep her 93 from tumbling out of her lips. 

You don’t need her to, though. One look at her paper, and you’re already biting back a scowl. You cross your arms, leaning back in your seat and wearing an expression that Caitlyn can only describe as a pout.

Gods, did you have to be so impossibly cute?

“Listen,” Caitlyn clears her throat, shifting slightly in her seat to face you. You assume she’ll gloat over her superior quiz score as per usual, but her gaze flicks from your paper to your face. “We’re always competing over tests, and all we do is go back and forth. How about another competition?”

You narrow your eyes at her, wondering what she could possibly be plotting against you. “What are you suggesting?”

“Ice skating.”

You blink. You must not have heard her correctly. “…What?”

Caitlyn’s eyes widen, surprising even herself with how blunt that sounded. “Um, I mean,” she quickly tries to justify her idea, desperately putting the pieces together in her head as to not sound as lame as she feels. “You know, it’s winter, and there’s a rink not too far from campus. It’d be…convenient?”

“Okay.”

A moment passes, Caitlyn just staring at you in slight disbelief. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “Why not? I’d never back down from any challenge you throw at me. I hope you know that by now.”

“Oh, I— okay.” Caitlyn stumbles in her wording. She hadn’t been prepared for you to just agree like that. “Are you free Thursday night?”

You think about it for a moment, going over your schedule for the week in your mind. “Yeah, I should be. Meet at seven?”

“Sounds good. I’ll text you the address.” Caitlyn adjusts the strap of her bag on her shoulder as she stands to leave the classroom. She has your number from when you had worked on the project together, she remembers. 

“Okay,” you mumble, staring down at your hands resting on the desk in front of you.

Why do you have plans with your rival on Thursday night?

Scratch that.

Why do you have plans to compete with your rival in ice skating when you’ve never skated before?

|------» ~~~ «------| 

You arrive at the ice rink at seven exactly: right on time. You don’t have a plan for what you’re going to do, exactly, when Caitlyn finds out that you can’t skate. But you’re sort of trapped now, and your pride is far too high to call off any competition with your biggest rival. 

Fake it ‘till you make it, or some shit. 

Caitlyn’s already there, sitting casually on one of the benches outside the rink. Her dark hair is pulled into a ponytail that frames her face as she glances at her phone, and the thought briefly occurs to you that she looks so, distinctly pretty.

She hastily stands when you approach, clicking her phone off. “Hey-" Caitlyn starts, but the words die in her throat the second she lays eyes on you.

“Hi,” you give her a small smile. Caitlyn should respond, should usher you inside so she can go on about this competition that she secretly planned as a date, but she can’t. She can’t because you’re gorgeous.

You’re wearing a short, white skirt with a baby pink top and a white, fluffy coat. Your boots, leg warmers, and scarf are white to match, and gods you just look so soft. So soft, so cute, so bundled up and warm that Caitlyn wonders what it might be like to wrap you in her arms and—

She blinks as if to shake the thought out of her mind, awkwardly gesturing towards the entrance. “Should we go in?”

You nod, stepping forward to enter the rink. It’s outdoors, all pretty-looking with fairy lights strung up above the ice. Caitlyn holds the gate open for you, and you can’t help but note the height difference between you two. Gods, who had to make her 6’1”? 

Once you’ve both entered the rink, Caitlyn claps her hands. She’s ever the efficient, assured Kiramman heir. “Okay, we should rent our skates, and then we can go-"

You tune her out after her first sentence, staring wide-eyed at the ice. Shit. You underestimated your ability to be able to fake being good at ice skating when you’ve never even put on skates before. “Yeah, yeah,” you mumble, not really hearing her. “Sure.”

You walk over to the stand with Caitlyn, renting two pairs of skates. You open your wallet to pull out your card, but Caitlyn just shakes her head, pushing your hand away. “Let me,” she assures as she swipes her own card and takes both pairs of skates from the worker.

“You don’t have to-" You start. You know Caitlyn has more than enough money to have anything she could ever want, but you still feel obligated to pay for your own.

She cuts you off, her icy blue eyes meeting yours. “Let me,” she repeats, this time slightly firmer: a tone that you can’t help but listen to. The way she’s looking at you, her eyes almost imploring, fills you with nerves you can’t quite identify.

Caitlyn’s leading you over to one of the benches moments later, and you mimic her movements as she laces up her skates. Her movements are easy; she’s done this before. Oh, you’re so screwed.

That much is obvious when you stand, your arms immediately flying out as you try to steady yourself, holding onto the gate that leads to the ice. Caitlyn easily slips through it, gliding onto the ice like she’s some kind of professional. She turns to face you, tilting her head in curiosity. “You coming?”

Well, fuck.

“I can’t do this,” you blurt out. Gods, you hate the way those words fall from your lips so easily. You never admit to not knowing anything in front of Caitlyn — not in this world in which you’re constantly trying to one-up each other in absolutely everything. But all you know now is that you can’t go on that ice.

Caitlyn furrows her eyebrows, skating back towards the gate where you’re standing. “What do you mean? Why can’t you skate?”

“I— I literally can’t, Caitlyn,” your gaze drops to the floor beneath you as you prepare for her onslaught of teasing. She had suggested this to you as a competition, after all. This is her automatic win.

But to your total shock, she does’t. “Hey,” Caitlyn murmurs, her voice softer than you’ve ever heard it before. “It’s okay. If you can’t skate, I can just teach you.”

Now you look up to meet her eyes, shock evident in your features. “What? But this was supposed to be a competition.”

Whoops. Caitlyn had forgotten about that little excuse Jayce had suggested she make to get you to agree to hang out with her. She brings one hand up to scratch at the back of her neck, almost sheepish. “Right. Well, it doesn’t have to be. I can teach you, and we can just…have fun. Is that okay?”

Something about her unexpected sweetness is just a little endearing to you, and so you nod up at her. “…Okay.”

Caitlyn reaches out to take your hands in her own, her hold surprisingly gentle. “Here, keep your eyes on me,” she instructs. “Don’t look down.”

You don’t say anything in response, just focusing on doing as she says. You keep your eyes locked on hers, and she does so in return. Holding her gaze yet again just makes the nervous butterflies from earlier return, and it’s so distracting that you almost don’t notice how she slowly guides you onto the ice.

Almost.

Your grip on her hands tightens, desperately fighting against your instinct to squeeze your eyes shut in fear. “What if I fall?” You choke out, and your eyes are so rounded and your lips are tugged into a pout — Caitlyn internally swears that you’ll be the death of her if you keep looking at her like this.

“Then I’ll catch you,” her thumb strokes over the back of your hand, and fuck, two rivals really shouldn’t be behaving like this, but you’re in too deep to pull away now.

That, and you really can’t pull away. Or you’ll fall.

Caitlyn guides you around the rink a few times, only picking up the pace when you’re slightly more comfortable with her movements. Your grip on her loosens little by little, and by your third lap around, you’re actually enjoying yourself. Whether that’s because you’re actually learning how to ice skate or because Caitlyn’s the one teaching you, well, that’s for you to know.

“Alright, I’m going to let you try on your own now,” Caitlyn gently moves her hands away from yours, but murmurs soft words that almost sound like she’s cooing at you when your expression becomes one of panic. “It’s okay, I won’t let you fall.”

You believe her, you really do. For once in your life, you trust that your rival will be here to catch you instead of rejoicing in your failure. So you take a deep breath and let yourself stand on your own. Your skating isn’t perfect — not even close. Your legs shake a little, and you have to hold out your arms for balance more than a few times, but you’re still doing it. You’re actually ice skating.

“I’m doing it,” your expression contorts into pure delight, your smile bright enough that Caitlyn can feel a warmth that feels like sunbeams warming her skin in the summer. 

“You are,” she returns your smile, moving to skate alongside you. You stay like that for a while: her purposefully moving a bit more slowly to sync her pace with yours. It’s peaceful; almost bliss as you find yourself making conversation with her. You notice her accent more when she talks passionately about something, you realize.

After some time has passed, you’re getting a little tired of not being on your feet, so you attempt to slow yourself to a stop. Though, due to your inexperience, that doesn’t go very well. You’re not really sure how to stop yourself, so as Caitlyn comes to a stop in front of you, you just end up colliding with her. It’s not a hard collision since you’re not skating very quickly: more of a bump that knocks you straight against her chest.

“Um,” Caitlyn’s suddenly thankful that your head is below hers, and thus you can’t see her cheeks tinge with pink. She stumbles in her wording yet again, which she never does. Usually. Curse you for making her so flustered. 

“Sorry,” the half-smile you flash up at her as you pull away is slightly abashed. 

“It’s- it’s okay,” Caitlyn clears her throat, opening the gate and helping you off the ice. “You’re new to this, you know, it’s normal…” she trails off, scrambling for coherent thoughts. She doesn’t have any. The only thing her mind supplies her with was how warm and soft you felt against her, and it has her imagination wandering to how your body would feel snuggled into hers as you wake up together in her bed one morning.

Stop. Not helpful. She silently reprimands her own brain.

You wobble over to the bench you had previously sat on to lace up your skates — this time to unlace them. But before you can even lean down to start doing so, Caitlyn’s there in a flash, kneeling to tug at the laces. “Oh,” you start in surprise, eyes widening at her gesture.

“I’ve got it, don’t worry,” Caitlyn excuses, navy blue strands of hair falling from her ponytail and around her face as she works at undoing the laces. She’s done in a matter of moments, quick and efficient as per usual. You’d expect nothing less from Caitlyn Kiramman.

She undoes her own, but she still reaches out an arm to steady you as you stand on your own two feet again. “You feeling okay?” She asks as she moves to give the skates back to the renting kiosk. “Did you have fun? I didn’t push you too hard, did I?”

“No, no,” you reassure her, slipping your boots back on. “It was really fun, actually. I’m happy I learned how to skate.” And that you were the one who taught me, your mind supplies, but you don’t voice it aloud. None of these thoughts about your rival makes any sense. You’re supposed to hate her, compete with her — not get all flustered when she looks at you and imagine being wrapped in her arms and- 

Oh.

Oh, shit.

You like her.

Luckily, or unluckily, Caitlyn interrupts your train of thought as she follows you out of the ice rink. “Here, let me buy you a hot chocolate,” she insists, desperately trying to come up with any ideas to make the night last a little longer. That’s what Jayce would tell her to do, anyways, and he’s really the only person she goes to for romantic advice.

“Oh,” your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. She just keeps surprising you. “Okay, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“It’s none at all,” Caitlyn responds immediately, already making a beeline for the little stand right outside of the ice rink. Minutes later, she’s passing you a paper cup filled with the warm drink, a few marshmallows bobbing at the top. She takes her own as well, and the two of you start the walk back to campus. 

“You know, I’ve always wondered,” you voice after taking a sip from the cup in your hands. “Why do you have a dorm on campus? I mean, I feel like living in one of the biggest mansions in Piltover would be much nicer.”

“Ah, well, it’s easier to get to and from class-" Caitlyn starts, her usual excuse easily slipping out. But this time, she hesitates. Because it’s you, and even though you’ve been competing with each other for gods know how long, there’s been a shift ever since the project you worked on together. Scratch that: there’s been a shift tonight. The way you trusted her on the ice, admitted you couldn’t skate, let her guide and teach you because you trusted that she wouldn’t let you fall.

Something buried deep inside Caitlyn knows that she can be honest with you.

She exhales, her breath coming out as a visible puff in the cold, winter night. “It’s that. But it’s also…I need some space from my parents. My mother, especially. She wants me to follow in her footsteps, assume her seat in the council after she’s retired. I don’t want that; I don’t want some desk job. I want to be an enforcer to protect my city and its people.”

Caitlyn pauses, glancing sideways at you to meet your eyes. You’re listening attentively, actually hearing what she has to say without any teasing or judgement. “I don’t want power that’s handed to me. If I have power, I want to earn it, just like I want to earn the city’s trust that I can protect them. I want to build my own life, and I just couldn’t live at home while I’m trying to figure all this out. Not full time, at least.”

You’re quiet for a moment when she finishes. “Wow,” you mumble. “I never knew.”

“I never told you.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” you bite back a smile. “I guess I just never expected it. I teased you for wanting to be an enforcer, but I didn’t know you wanted it like this. I’m sorry.”

It’s the first genuine apology you’ve given to her for your biting remarks, and Caitlyn revels in it. Not for her own pride, but for what it signifies. Apologies mean doing things differently, mean moving forward in the relationship. Or, just maybe, moving forward into a different kind of relationship. “It’s alright,” she sighs. “I’ve teased you enough in return. I’m sorry for that as well.”

You wave her off, the cold air suddenly not bothering you so much compared to the warmth that’s spreading inside you. “Maybe it was good. It made me more motivated in my classes.”

“Yeah, me too,” Caitlyn laughs softly, and she avidly fights the urge to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. “You know, I didn’t tell you earlier, but you look really pretty tonight.”

“Oh,” you really hope she doesn’t notice the way your cheeks burn at the compliment. “Thank you.”

“No, like really,” her tone grows softer by the moment. “You’re really pretty.”

And it’s something about this. Something about this compliment feels like a subtle confession. All that Caitlyn’s done for you tonight: teaching you to skate, renting your skates, buying you hot chocolate, her compliments…it’s your turn, and you know it. So you do something.

You push away the anxieties flooding your mind, your hand reaching for hers. Caitlyn freezes at the touch, a slight jolt going through her body. Nevertheless, she responds in kind, her hold on your hand achingly gentle. Your fingers lace with hers.

Neither of you say anything for the next few minutes, content to walk with the physical contact. Your hands swing slightly between you as you walk, and it’s a little scary how happy that detail makes you when you notice it.

Unbeknownst to you, Caitlyn’s a little scared of how happy it makes her, too.

It’s almost disappointing when the campus buildings start to appear, and you’re in front of your dorm before you know it. Caitlyn lives just a few buildings over, but she stops in front of yours to say goodbye. Walking you to your dorm, ever the gentlewoman she strives to be.

“So, um, I’ll see you tomorrow?” She murmurs, turning to face you. It’s how the two of you usually say goodbye: with an acknowledgement that you’ll meet again in your shared class the next day.

But something about the way she’s looking at you: her eyes so blue and so kind, makes you hesitate. You’re lingering and you know it, trying to prolong this goodbye for fear of the spell between you breaking and everything going back to your normal academic rivalry in class tomorrow.

“Yeah,” you repeat her words. “Tomorrow.”

You can’t stop yourself before you’re stepping forward and wrapping your arms around her.

Caitlyn tenses just slightly before she completely melts into the contact, her arms coming up to encircle you. She hugs you close against her chest, and it just feels so right, like that’s where you’re meant to be. Maybe you are. She certainly wouldn’t mind it.

“Thank you for tonight,” your mumble, reluctantly stepping back to give her a shy smile. 

“Of— of course,” Caitlyn’s breath catches, and once again, she has no idea how to respond to you. You drive her crazy, make her mind go all haywire when she’s been taught for all her life to be composed and proper. None of that seems to matter around you.

“Goodnight, Caitlyn,” you walk backwards towards the entrance of your dorm building, entering after one last smile.

Caitlyn stares in your direction long after you’re gone, almost wistful, missing you already and wishing she had the guts to just confess already, to make you hers.

“Goodnight, princess.”

I think this is my best writing yet >///<

Inspired by my desire for an ice skating date but also having never been ice skating so I don't know how to do it.

ANYWAYS! My university finals are over yayyy! I can write again! Missed you guys smmm and I hope you're doing well <3

~Cherry 🍒

[jarofstyles]

Lights Out, Keep Warm

Hi lovelies! I’ve been waiting to give this one shot to you. Snowed in at the cabin is something I’ve always loved the idea of, and I hope this can make it something you dream of too.

Check out our Patreon for early access and 230+ exclusive writings and series.

WC- 4.6k

Warnings- loss of power, unprotected sex, creampie, slight size kink

It had seemed like a good idea, heading to the cabin for the weekend. It was supposed to snow a little, Harry had a stressful week at work and Y/N had no plans. The cabin in the mountains was one of their favorite weekend getaways, but it wasn’t lost on Harry that he needed to make some adjustments. They’d only gotten it 2 years prior and he knew he’d needed to do some work on it, but every time they went it was inevitable that they got distracted enough that he’d push it off to the ‘next time’. This time, however; he knew that he was not going to be able to do that. 

They’d noticed the first flicker when the winds started to pick up. He’d resolved himself to know they’d be snowed in this weekend, but he was starting to regret not getting the generator from their house the more gusts of wind started to make the lights flicker. It was only a matter of time. 

As they sat on the sofa waiting for the cookies to bake, he heard a snap from outside and it was over. The power at the cabin flickered one last time and died, plunging them into darkness. 

It was pointless to go out there and check. He could see from the windows how hard the snow was coming down. It was a tomorrow sort of problem… but he couldn’t deny that it was going to mean a far less comfortable night. Harry cursed under his breath, not liking the cold that was quickly settling in. He wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling her close as he sat down on the couch from his observation outside the window. "Fuck, it's cold." he grumbled, his teeth chattering slightly.

"Come ‘ere," he mumbled, burrowing his face into her neck and wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. "You're like a human heater." he complained, his breath warm against her skin. He nuzzled closer, trying to absorb her warmth like a cat. "Think we should jus’ stay like this until the power comes back on."

Y/N giggled softly, curling into his embrace as she felt his body pressing against hers in the darkness. "Well, aren't you resourceful?" she teased, running her fingers through his hair to soothe him. "Using me as your personal space heater now." His playful groan against her neck made her smile widen. "You were the genius who thought baking cookies in a cabin with questionable wiring was a good idea," she quipped, pulling the blanket over them.

"Sure, of course. Blame my brilliant mind for underestimating the cabin's electrical system and the winds it can withstand." he mumbled into her neck. "At least we can at least attempt to keep warm now," he purred, letting his lips brush over her collarbone. "And you smell like vanilla and whatever else you put in the cookies, which is making the this whole thing much more bearable." He shifted slightly, his leg throwing over hers to entwine them together. That wasn’t enough, though. 

As they huddled together on the couch, the room grew noticeably colder by the minute. His large hands splayed out on her stomach, his fingers splaying out to cover as much of her warmth as possible. "Damn it, why is it getting colder?" he complained, his breath washing over her throat. "I need more of your heat." he grumbled, his body shifting until she was practically sitting on top of his lap.

"Come on, closer," he insisted playfully, adjusting his position to make her more comfortable atop his lap, splaying the blanket over her shoulders to make a little cocoon for them, leaving their head and neck out. "This is like... the best worst situation ever.” He muttered against her skin, pressing small kisses along her neck to distract himself. "Being forced to hold you this close in the dark." His hands moved slowly up and down her back in comforting strokes. "Though I'm definitely not complaining about the cuddles." He nipped softly at her earlobe, making her shiver.

Y/N let out a soft sigh, squirming slightly in his lap as she felt his teeth on her. "You're such a flirt, even when you're cold and grumpy." she accused, tilting her head to give him better access. "And for the record, I'm not complaining either." Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at his nape. "This is kind of cozy, isn't it? Being stuck in here with you."

"Cozy is an understatement." he agreed, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her up against him. "I'm starting t’think the power going out was a blessing in disguise," he joked, his fingers splaying out on her lower back. "Who needs lights when I have you glowing like a little human heater in my arms?" He chuckled, the sound rumbling against her.

"You're...warm. Warmer than the fireplace I was counting on." Her laughter was soft, breathy as she sunk into the body head they shared. "You think our cookies are okay?" she asked, pressing a gentle kiss just below his jawline, making him shiver. "Or have they gone completely hard in the cold?" 

Her voice held a playful innuendo that made him smirk in the darkness. "Not as hard as I am right now..."

“Oh trust me, I can feel how hard you are.” It had taken her by surprise to feel him against her but she couldn’t say she didn’t like it. “Though I will say I much prefer your type of hard.”

Harry's breath hitched at her playful words, his body reacting instantly to the innuendo. "Fuck, you're gonna kill me." he grumbled. "Let's just say the cookies aren't the only thing getting hard in this cold, but at least mine can be useful.." He leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his pent-up desire and affection into it.

"I swear, if the power doesn't come back on soon, I might just have to warm you up in other ways," he murmured against her lips, his voice husky. His hands slid down to grip her thighs, squeezing gently as he pulled her core flush against him. "Though I have to admit, I'm kind of enjoying this forced intimacy too much." He nipped at her bottom lip, grinning in the darkness as she pouted against his mouth.

"Oh?" She questioned softly against his lips, her heart picking up. "And what exactly are these... other ways?" Her voice was breathy with anticipation, one hand sliding up his chest while the other remained wrapped around his neck. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her touch, matching her own rapid rhythm. The darkness seemed to fuel her courage, and she shifted slightly in his lap, making his breath hitch audibly. "Maybe I'd like to find out.” 

"Jesus Christ, you little minx." Harry whispered, his grip on her thighs tightening as he pulled her even closer. His lips moved to her neck, trailing hot kisses as he breathed against her skin, "You're playing with fire, love." The irony of that sentence was not lost on him. One hand moved up to cup her face while the other stayed firmly on her thigh, his thumb tracing small circles. "Are you sure you want me to show you?" His voice was hoarse with desire, his control hanging by a thread in the dark intensity of the moment. "Because once I start… m’not sure I'll be able to stop." he finished, his words a low rumble against her throat. He dragged his lips along her collarbone, the scrape of his stubble leaving tingling trails on her skin. His hand on her thigh inched upward, fingers slipping teasingly beneath the hem of her shirt. "S’that what you want, sweet girl?" he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "For me to touch you in the dark?"

Y/N arched into his touch, a breathless moan escaping her lips at the feel of his fingers slipping beneath her shirt. "Yes," She breathed out, the word barely audible in the charged air between them. "I want all of you, Harry. Every inch." Her nails raked lightly down his back as she clung to him, her body trembling not just from the cold, but from the overwhelming need coursing through her veins. "Show me, baby.” She challenged, her voice trembling ever so slightly with need. "Touch me."

He groaned, the sound vibrating against her as his hands finally pushed her shirt up to bunch around her waist. His fingers splayed out on her bare stomach, inching upward slowly. "You're asking for trouble." The man warned, her breath hitching as his hands reached the underside of her breasts before going down, fingers hooked into the waistband of her leggings, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her belly.

Y/N's back arched as his fingers slipped inside to brush against her lace underwear, her breath catching in her throat. She could feel herself growing wet, her cunt aching as she realized just how much she actually needed this. "I want it. Don’t care if it’s trouble." she whispered back, hands fisting in his hair as she pulled his mouth back to hers in a desperate, hungry kiss.

He swallowed her whimpers as his fingers finally hooked into the waistband of her leggings and slowly, slowly pulled them down. He broke the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses along her jaw as his hands worked to remove it. "Lift f’me." he whispered, his anticipation growing. "Please, baby." She took the direction well- just like she always did. His fingers curled around her thighs, helping to lift her legs as he slowly peeled her leggings and underwear off, leaving her bottom half bare in his arms. Pulling the blanket back over them, he placed another delicate kiss to her lips, letting them stick for a moment. “Need t’keep the shirt on. it’s too cold for you to be fully naked… what a shame.”

One hand cupped her over her pussy, his middle finger slowly sliding through her wet folds making her gasp loudly. "Fuck you're wet." he whispered in awe, his voice thick with desire as he began to stroke her gently. "Soaked through just from my touch... my girl wants it bad, doesn't she?" The cool air of the cabin contrasted sharply with the heat between her legs as his fingers explored her. “God, you're gorgeous like this, all hot n’ready for me, even in the freezing cold." He licked a his lips before capturing hers in another searing kiss, swallowing her moan as his fingers circled her clit deliberately. "I could keep you warm all night long, couldn't I?"

Y/N nodded, clutching onto his shoulders as her hips moved slightly. He could touch her the whole night and she’d happily preen and melt into him. Harry had the handbook to how to make her feel good, and she wasn’t going to deny him. She didn’t want to.

"Mmm, that's what you needed. Go ahead n’make yourself feel good.” he praised, his fingers moving in teasing circles over her clit as she rocked against him. "Use me, take what you need." His other hand slid under her shirt, cupping her breast as he took her mouth in deep kisses. He could feel her body trembling with need, her hips moving more urgently against his fingers.

Just being touched like this was making her hot. No power and snowstorm be damned, she knew at the end of this she was going to be a sweaty mess. She always was.

"Fuck, you're driving me crazy, baby. Jus’ like you always do." He sighed against her lips, his fingers picking up speed over her clit. Her wetness coated his digits, making the motion slick and addictive. "I can feel how badly you need me." He pinched her nipple through the fabric of her shirt, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her cunt. His cock throbbed insistently against her thigh, reminding her of his own desperate arousal. "Tell me what you want, Y/N."

"Want you inside me, Harry," the girl breathed out, her voice shaking slightly as he slipped a finger inside of her. "I need your cock, please. I need you to fuck me, fill me up, make me forget about the cold and the darkness." Her hips rocked against his hand again, seeking friction. She gasped as he pulled his finger out, her pussy clenching desperately around nothing.

"This what you want, Y/N?" He teased, his tip brushing against her through the thin sweatpants. "My thick, hard cock stretching you out, filling you up completely?" He paused, his voice a dark hum that warmed her bones. "Ask me again.”

"Please, baby…" she whimpered as she felt him pressing against her. "Fuck me. I need your cock to warm me up. Please just put it in me." Her hips rolled, trying to push herself onto his length. "M’so cold.”

He crooned, a low rumble in his chest. "Cold, huh? Let me see if I can heat you up." With a swift motion, he pulled his throbbing cock out of his sweats, letting it spring free. The head was already slick with precum, pulsing with need for her as he positioned himself at her entrance, rubbing the tip teasingly through her wet folds. "This better, sweetheart?" His voice was playful, but there was a desperate edge to it, mirroring his arousal.

"Mhm…" She sighed in relief, arms wrapping tightly around his neck as she needed him. She was needy, cold and horny now, her pussy clenching around nothing. He always managed to work her up from 0 to 100. "Just fuck me, Harry. I can take it." Her teeth grazed against his ear as she spoke, her body seeming him out. "Please?" She rocked her hips against him, trying to push his cock inside her aching cunt on her own.

He let out a hiss in pleasure as the tip of his cock caught on her entrance, the warmth and wetness enveloping just the head. "Fuck, tiny little cunt. Shouldn’t be able t’fit, but we’ll make it. Won’t we?" He cooed, his hips jerking forward slightly, pushing the tip inside her. His hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place as he began to slowly slide deeper. "So fucking tight and wet for me." He bottomed out with a satisfied grunt, his balls pressing against her ass.

"God, you’re always so incredible," he breathed out, his hands sliding around to grip her ass as they both adjusted to her pussy being fully sheathed inside her. "Taking me so deep like this... fuck, you're perfect." His voice was ragged with desire as he slowly pulled back before thrusting in again, establishing a steady rhythm. The darkness enhanced every sensation - the tightness of her pussy around his cock, the scent of her arousal, the way she clung to him for warmth.

He began to move inside her with slow, deep thrusts, his large hands holding her in place as he kept his cock buried inside her warm, wet cunt. Dripping just for him. It amazed him each and every time, how she was tailor made just for him. "Gonna keep you warm, baby," he muttered against her neck, his breath hot against her skin. "Gonna keep you wrapped up in my arms and my cock all night long." He picked up the pace slightly, his hips hitching forward to bury himself inside her with a soft grunt each time. "Fuck, you're so warm... so fucking warm. This is how you’re gonna keep me warm. With this perfect pussy.”

She whimpered and clung to him, her nails digging into his back as she felt every twitch of his cock as he kept himself deep inside her for a moment after every thrust. "Fuck I... Harry.” She bleated, her breath hitching as he filled her up completely. "You fuck me so good. More... more." she begged, her body starting to shake less from cold and more from the building heat between them. "S’working... you're warming me up." She nuzzled into his neck, the labored breaths washing over his skin.

"Mmm, that's right m’love." he groaned, feeling her tighten around him. "I'll keep you warm up all night long." His thrusts grew stronger, more urgent, his hips slapping against hers in the darkness. "God, I love how you squeeze me, baby..." He nipped at her earlobe, tongue tracing the shell. "Think I need t’keep my cock in you all night. What do you think?”

"Yes." she gasped, as he fucked up into her. "Keep it in me all night, please. Don't ever take it out." Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, holding him close as she rocked her hips to meet his thrusts. "I need it, Harry. I need your cock inside me all the time." She moaned loudly, her voice echoing in the silent cabin as he continued to fuck her hard and fast, his thick length stretching her open with every push.

As they moved together, the blanket gradually slipped lower, revealing her little sleep tee and the swells of her breasts beneath it. He could feel the cool air kissing their skin, making him groan. There was something about the contrasts of hot skin and cool air that drove him mad. "Blanket's falling," he murmured, his fingers curling around her shoulder to keep it in place. "Should I let it drop?" He punctuated his question with a deep, rolling thrust that made her whimper and cling to him tighter.

"Okay, my sweet girl. Let me see you then." he purred as she nodded eagerly beneath him. The blanket fell away completely, pooled around their waists as he continued to thrust into her. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her hardened nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt. "Keep grinding on me. Make sure t’keep my cock nice and warm for me, sweetheart." His breath was hot against the damp material, lips curling into a smirk as he felt a shudder run through her at the tease.

He latched onto one stiff peak through the cotton of her shirt, sucking hard as he continued to feel his cock sink her. She let out a high-pitched whine, her body bouncing shallowly on his lap as he ravished her sensitive nipples. The wet fabric clung to her skin,  going almost transparent to show the circles of her areolas. "So fucking hot," he mumbled against her breast, popping off to pay equal attention to its twin. His large hands gripped her hips, lifting her slightly to meet his thrusts.

She could feel his thick shaft throbbing inside her as she bounced on his lap, the sensation making her slightly dizzy. Her pussy clenched around him rhythmically, dripping onto his cock and balls with each movement. The wet, obscene sounds of their fucking filled the cabin, driving them both insane. It was filthy, it always was, but that’s what she liked about it. "Fuck, can you feel that?" He groaned, feeling her slick walls engulfing him. "Your pussy's leaking all over me, Y/N. So goddamn wet and messy."

His cock pulsed inside her dripping cunt, a groan rumbling deep in his chest. He loved how her cream coated him, making his thrusts slick and effortless. "That's it, baby, squeeze my cock." He encouraged through gritted teeth, his hips snapping up to meet her bounces. "Gonna fuck this perfect pussy all night long until you're soaked in cum and sweat." He leaned in, capturing her lips in a sloppy kiss, swallowing her moans as he pounded into her relentlessly.

She was a mess on his lap, her hair sticking to her sweat-slicked face, her shirt riding up to bunch up with its wet patches on her nipples, and her bare thighs trembling as she bounced on his fat cock. "Harry... Harry," she panted, her voice hoarse and broken as he continued to slam into her. "I can’t.”

He knew her well enough to hear the tone of her voice, notice her legs quaking and her bounces growing less enthusiastic. With a soft coo, he wrapped his arms around her and stood up, his cock still buried deep inside her. "Oh, my sweet baby. Legs giving out on me?" That was something he could easily take care of, laying her down on her back and settling between her spread thighs. "Don't worry, I'll do the work now. You just lay there n’let me keep you warm." 

Laying half on top of her, his arm wrapped around her to keep her tucked beneath him as he continued to fuck her. His chest pressed against her tits, his lips against her temple as he buried his face in her hair. The warmth of his body enveloped her, making her shiver with relief as he kept her covered and protected from the cold. His hips never slowed, his thick cock pounding into her relentlessly as he fucked her into the couch.

"There we are. That’s what m’girl needed, hm? Just needed me close, all the way inside you." he murmured against her temple as her legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper. The new angle let him hit her perfectly, making her gasp and claw at his back. "Let me get that spot. Know just what you need." His weight pressed down on her, trapping her beneath him as he fucked her. One hand slid under her ass, tilting her hips to change the angle and make each thrust maximize her pleasure.

She was lost in a haze of warmth and pleasure, her legs locked around Harry's hips as he fucked her into the couch. Her arms wrapped around his back, clinging to him as he pressed her into the cushions with each thrust. "Oh my god." she whimpered, her voice muffled against his shoulder as she buried her face in his neck. "You’re keeping me so warm... don't stop, please don't stop..." Her body was jostled with each impact, her pussy clenching rhythmically around his thick length.

She was close to the edge. He knew it so well. It was in everything he could feel her walls fluttering around his cock, her breath hitching in her throat, and her fingers digging into his back. "That's it, sweetheart," he encouraged. "You're so close, I can feel it. Cum f’me, let me feel you fall apart on my cock." His hips moved faster, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased her orgasm. "Squeeze me, Y/N. Milk my cock with that tight little cunt."

Her entire body tensed, her back arching off the couch as she teetered on the edge. Her heart raced, pounding in her ears as she fought to hold back the impending orgasm. Her pussy was a vice around his cock, clenching and unclenching rhythmically as she struggled to contain the building pressure. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, and her legs tightened around his hips, trying to keep him buried inside her as the climax threatened to consume her. It was too good- Y/N didn’t want it to end.

Harry knew all about it. "Let go for me, love... let go and feel me fill you up," he whispered urgent against her lips. "I wanna feel your sweet cunt milk every drop from my cock," he growled, his thrusts becoming more forceful. One hand slid between them to firmly press on her clit, pushing her over the edge. "Come on, baby... cum all over my cock," he encouraged hoarsely, his own release building in his balls. "Want to feel you dripping with my cum.” 

Her body never disobeyed him. He owned her in ways no one else ever had, and it was exactly why his permission had her falling over the edge, her vision blurring as the orgasm crashed over her. Her pussy spasmed around his cock, clamping down as she came hard. Wave after wave of pleasure washed through her, each contraction milking his dick and forcing him deeper. Harry grunted, his hips jerking as he struggled to hold back his own climax. He rubbed her clit firmly, prolonging her orgasm as he fucked her through it, getting every drop of her pleasure.

"Oh fuck, Harry... please fill me up." she begged, her voice cracking with desperation. High off her orgasm and the need to make sure he was pleasured to, she needed it to feel complete. The feel of him throbbing inside of her was all the confirmation he needed. "I need your cum inside me... I need to feel you leaking out of me all night." She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, using her heels to push him deeper. "Cum. Cum in me. I need to feel it."

"Fuck!" He hissed, finally losing control. She was pleasured, she was comfortable, and he knew he could give in to his need. His cock swelled and he began to cum, pumping his hot seed deep into her. Right where it belonged. "Take it all, baby... take every fucking drop- fuck, I love you." He grunted, his hips jerking as he filled her completely. Harry could feel his cum leaking out around his still-pulsating shaft, creating an sticky, wet mess between them- his favorite. "God, you look so gorgeous like this... full of me."

She lay there, her eyes closed in bliss, a soft smile on her lips as she basked in the satisfaction of being filled with him. Her body felt heavy and relaxed, her mind drifting in a haze of contentment. She felt a little dribble of his cum escaping her full pussy, trailing down her thigh as she lay there, surrounded by him but it didn’t bother her. Harry was everywhere. Inside her, around her, on top of her… everywhere she always wanted him to be.

He gently kissed over her face, his lips brushing against her forehead, cheeks, and mouth in a tender, loving caress. This was what she deserved. Everything he could offer.. Once he was satisfied she was calm and comfortable, he tugged the blanket back over them, wrapping her up in his arms and his warmth.

He gazed down at her with a playful smirk, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. Perhaps he’d gone overboard considering how she was now covered in a light sheen of sweat, but he loved the view. The feeling. Everything about her. "So, think I managed t’keep you warm enough?" His voice was soft, tinged with amusement. The blanket cocooned them, trapping their combined heat, wanting to ensure she wouldn't feel even the slightest chill. "Warmer than the cabin fire, surely?" He quirked an eyebrow, awaiting her response with an expectant grin.

He really could be a little shit sometimes.

She rolled her eyes playfully, snuggling deeper into his arms with a contented sigh. "Much warmer, you idiot. Almost too warm now.” She teased, fanning herself dramatically. "Guess we'll just have to endure being wrapped up in our sexy little blanket for the rest of the night." Her eyes tinged with trouble as she gazed up at him, her swollen lips curving into a sultry smirk. "Think you can handle keeping me this warm all night?" "Oh, I think I'm more than up for the challenge, gorgeous girl." he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to her mouth. “Think the storm isn’t going to end until the morning. We’ve got plenty of time to spend.”

[mihii-i]

hear me out..... mizu x fem reader, a oneshot, smut, they're already together, they are out in town as 'husband and wife' while they obtain information. The reader is a brat, Mizu literally fucks the ever living SHIT out of her. Teasing and mocking until the reader is blabbing out apologies that are barely even coherent. SHI ION KNOW WHEN STRAPS WERE MADE BUT IF YOU BUST THAT OUT I WOULD BE VERY GRATEFUL 🙏 and of course aftercare with lots of praise yk bc if ur gonna call me a slut at least kiss my face and call me ur pretty slut thank YEW

chimes of the shamisen.

Pairings: mizu x fem!reader

CW: nsfw, female reader, afab reader, wlw, let’s ignore the episode’s events and the shindo dojo shit because yay sex, freaky asf obv, but first angst bc im evil kitty, bratty ass reader, argument, mizu is lowkey at fault for it too tho, but reader is still a bitch, hardcore sesbian lex, little bit of soft stuff sprinkled because I cannot write mizu going full on rough and angy with her lover, it feels ooc she would be atleast a little sweet :(, strapon use/harigata, the strap legit came outta nowhere, horny shit god, i genuinely don’t know if this is classified as degradation but I hate degrading so hope not, crying, really fucking rough I don’t think I ever wrote something this insane, not proofread.

A/N: ugh this lowkey turned out bad cause my tea was bad but im loving the stream of mizu requests I am absolutely feral over this woman like I want to kiss and hug her in my arms while also wanting her to tear off my clothes it ain’t funny anymore I GENUINELY DONT KNOW HOW TO FEEL ABOUT WRITING EXTRA FREAKY MIZU BUT YER WELCOME. 🕯️

Blisteringly cold sweeps of wind swayed in the air in a near painful freeze as crystals of snowflakes sunk upon touching the bare skin of your hand, your tense shoulder pushed up against Mizu’s cloaked one in an attempt to seek a sliver of warmth against the stinging cold. It was currently nearing the end of the nullifying freeze of winter, spring approaching in supposedly a few weeks from now in hopes of thawing out the erected statures blanketed in a gentle white.

Both you and Mizu navigated your way through the dips and trails of each snow heaped pathway in the city, remaining side by side as you two shouldered past the hordes of people pouring in through Kyoto’s streets. Throughout your support for her during the perilous tread to find the remaining men she sought to kill, you had assumed the title of her supposed ‘wife,’ while Mizu, still under the guise of a man, displayed herself as your husband.

Honestly, it was quite difficult to fathom why you were trailing behind this bloodthirsty woman, who would snap apart the bones of any living creature she came across for the sake of her wretched revenge—pulsing through every vein in her body, like an unrest that compelled her stubborn soul to live on. You always questioned yourself as you trudged by her side, eyes frequently staring down at your own feet buried in the thick layers of snow to ponder why your heart raced for a demon presumed to have nothing but hatred oozing from any noticeable crevice of light within her.

You nudged your fingers against her palm, reaching over as your knuckles came into contact with the calloused ridges of her own. Almost in a seemingly desperate sense, your fingertips danced along her skin occasionally as if you were pleading to hold her hand, only to end up cupping your hand around nothing as she pulled away with each gesture of yours seeking her affection. Mizu subtly nodded her head toward you, tilting her chin up to meet your gaze through the orange tint of her glasses.

“Not now. Focus on getting more information regarding Heiji Shindo.”

It was getting tiring. Annoying even.

Mizu initially proposed the idea of cloaking yourselves under the cover of a husband and wife to seek information, to which you agreed. Considering the two of you had been together for quite some time, you believed that it wouldn’t hurt to cover yourself with an impenetrable front. Surely your false marriage wouldn’t get questioned considering how touchy and affectionate you were with Mizu, proudly believing that such a plan would remain the same as usual.

Unfortunately for you, it might have to be time to come to terms with the fact that her revenge mattered more than you.

All of her recent actions reflected a strict focus to the goal she had set, refusing to indulge in even the smallest of pleasures with her own ‘wife.’ You constantly strode alongside her through Kyoto’s crowded infrastructure, shielded by the overarching shadow of her kasa shrouding her face as she opened her mouth to inquire of the Shindo Dojo’s whereabouts left and right.

You couldn’t bear to see her disappointed expression whenever she was ignored or directed incorrectly, one of the residents even leading her to a pleasure house, much to her discomfort. However, nothing served to dilate the pit in your stomach more than Mizu brushing you off, rolling her shoulder past you whenever she was fixated on gathering information about some piece of shit connected to one of the white men hiding in Japan.

You knew she didn’t hate you. In fact, Mizu loved you like you were the most precious thing she had ever set her sights on. Held you and whispered in your ears that you were one of the only people that ever mattered to her, and how grateful she was to have you, all while you were hemmed in her overflowing grasp of affection. Yet, you were unable to help the twinge of discomposure swirling in your chest at how…comfortable she felt neglecting you like this.

Of course in retaliation, you began to bite back at her lack of feeling towards you ever since you reached Kyoto under the disguise, growing increasingly despondent to the words that left her mouth. The annoyance alone she was able to inflict on you in these past few days was more than enough to fuel a minuscule revenge of your own. You’d always snap back toward Mizu, words tinged with a short of sharp edge to them, & contrasting the usual gentle demeanor you often displayed for her.

Looking around the cramped lanes, you remained to Mizu’s side as her own eyes traced every inch of the vicinity, briefly tilting her glasses along the bridge of her nose to capture a clear view as darkness clouded the sky in a shrouding night. Rays of moonlight kissing the rippling bodies of water engulfing the bridge off at the end, accompanied by the muted lamps provided a faint expansion of light within such a late portion of day, some starting to die out into a smoky grey one by one.

A disappointed huff fell from Mizu’s lips at the sight of nightfall descending upon the two of you, striking a halt in the investigation that had been dragged out for the whole day. Although you’d never admit it to her, you wanted to breathe out a prolonged sigh of relief once your info gathering induction had ceased for the day, unsure of how much longer you could rasp out another word about the black market merchant.

“(Name). We’re done for today, let me know if you find a decent place to rest.”

“Shouldn’t you look for one yourself? It’s the husband’s job to provide obviously.” You muttered, loud enough for Mizu to hear as you rolled your eyes.

“This is a false front and you know it. Stop being so stuck up and just listen to me.”

“Or what? Fucking hell Mizu, is it stuck up to ask for a little attention from my girlfriend?”

The sudden announcement of your relationship’s actual title cause her eyes to shoot wide open, cocking an eyebrow in evident disrelish toward your lack of compliance.

“You know full well that we’re in the middle of something important, and you’re simply acting like an attention seeking child!” Mizu hissed under her breath, attempting to keep her voice subtle to avert any attention away from the two of you.

“I don’t care. You just brush me off like I don’t exist when you’re clearly supposed to act like my husband.”

“Quit acting so fucking bratty and maybe I’ll give you what you want after we’re done.”

“Forget it, Mizu. Can’t believe I’m in love with a demon like you.”

You could almost hear Mizu’s breath hitch in her throat, swallowing back a lump as her lips remained parted in a frown. Her eyes roamed over you in disdain, brows knitting together as her eyelids lowered into a contorted expression of annoyance and hurt.

Regret clawed at your mind as you took in Mizu’s expression, clearly not displaying a particular fixation on hurt alone, but definitely harboring a chagrin of sorts. You felt your heart ache, realizing the words you had just uttered to your lover, unable to reflect upon what you just said to the woman you supposedly loved as she turned her back to you. Was she leaving you? Right here?

You jolted up at the sight of her head tilted over her shoulder to glance back at you, a cold expression still carved onto her already wounded gaze.

“Are you coming or not?”

Clearing your throat, you managed a soundless nod in response, the crunch of your footsteps being the only thing breaking the silence fostered between the two of you. A surge of anxiety crept up within you, the bitter taste flat against your tongue from the sheer feeling along worse than raw bile. What the hell was the matter with you? You claim you love her yet you struck a blow at one of her deepest insecurities? You couldn’t even begin to comprehend how disgusted you were with yourself right now.

Your footsteps abruptly ceased their movements as soon as you noticed Mizu’s own feet, stationary and sunken in the snow as she eyed the large wooden building with a sign hammered along a plank off to its right in a messy fashion. She immediately pivoted in the direction of the paper door upfront, pressing her fingers to the wall to push it aside and make way as it disappeared the further it was slid.

Despite following suit, you had completely blanked out, mind fogged with nothing but a storm of plaguing thoughts and raw hatred for your earlier words lurching at your chest. In this very moment, you couldn’t even begin to describe the guilt gnawing at the back of your head over and over. Similarly to a demon whispering in your ear endlessly to send you spiraling into madness.

No. You don’t get to put the blame on a demon. You demeaned your beloved as an onryō despite claiming to love her. The only real demon here was you.

A swift tap dragged along your shoulder shook you out of your jaundiced trance, Mizu’s unfeeling eyes stabbing through yours as she stared you down.

“Come on. There’s a room available.”

You cocked your head in confusion, not following the series of events that followed while your mind was wandering off. A sigh pushed past her tongue as she looked over at you, an unamused look painted all over her face.

“The room. We’re staying at an inn for the night. Then we continue investigating tomorrow.”

“Oh. Okay..”

That was all you could whisper out. Even speaking to her reminded you of that pained expression etched onto her face, draining the affection thay once presided in her blue eyes.

As soon as the door to your room slid open, such a minute detail presenting itself before you twisted like a dagger to your heart, feeling it drop to your stomach like a heavy stone. The two futons situated on the floor, one each big enough to fit both you and Mizu on it, yet still having two seperate beds against the floor far apart from each other. Was this some higher power’s way of telling you that your relationship was done for?

Not wanting to be held back by spacing out again, you begrudgingly set your foot down within the confines of the room, stepping into it as you were drawn to the futon on the far left. Kneeling beside it, a somber tiredness masked your face as you stared down at the fabric, with a few slight wrinkles adorning its stretched edges. The futon was quite spacious as it was splayed out on the tatami mat, oddly comfortable as well as you ran a hand along the surface.

You paused for a moment, slowly turning a head behind your shoulder until you caught sight of Mizu in your periphery, intently transfixed on her grasping at the kasa in her hands before setting it down beside the end of her own futon, her tinted glasses following alongside her cloak in a small pile of discarded clothes—if you could even call such accessories that. The weights strapped to her arms and legs also loosened to the floor with a clank, joining the discard pile as she took in a deep breath.

Mizu almost immediately plopped herself atop the futon without so much as looking over at you, back facing you as she lay on her side with the weight of her head pressured atop her arm.

“Blow out the candle for me, will you?”

Averting your gaze from her back, you sluggishly padded over to the candle, each step you took burning your heels as you felt like you were carrying the deadweight of your own body. A quick rush of wind was expelled from your lungs as you puckered your lips to blow out the candle, the flame flickering momentarily before vanishing into a thin trail of smoke wavering in the air and stinging your nostrils.

The strong miasma of smoke you were close to began to swirl within your throat within the darkness of the room, breath hitching as your head fogged up from discomfort. Perhaps you should refrain from inhaling smoke, only idiots come close enough to purposefully take in the scent of an air that could beset your lungs.

Only idiots hurt the person they love, much less if that person has been hurt enough in their past.

Returning to your futon, you also proceeded to lay on your side facing away from Mizu, fighting back the urge to want to see her gorgeous face. You closed your eyes, albeit a bit hesitantly as you screwed them shut, wallowing the quiet, wordless atmosphere fostered in the darkness once dimly illuminated by a tiny flame.

Or rather, former silence.

Your eyes almost immediately shot open at the abrupt chime of a distant shamisen echoing miles away in the dead of night. The smooth strums continued to ring in your ears in a soothing, yet harsh melody. Strange. They often didn’t hold any kabuki theater plays this late at night. You remained perplexed at the endless melodic chimes of the shamisen, yet oddly relaxed. Unable to comprehend the reason behind such a noise drifting through the streets so late, yet enjoying the comfort it enveloped you in.

Such a shame your comfort tore away from you, this night possibly being the last night you could even lay eyes upon your lover. You were sure you’d shattered everything you had with one simple comment alone. In this moment, you were no better than the man who had betrayed her in the past.

No.

No. You could never be apart from Mizu.

She was everything to you. You were nothing but determined to repair what you had supposedly shattered, using all you had to get the pieces to snap back together as with every ounce of internal strength you could muster if that’s what it took.

You sat up in one fluid motion, weakly dragging yourself over to Mizu’s futon while swallowing back the urge to just head back and sleep, ignoring the notion that this wouldn’t make it any better. Her body rose and fell with each breath she took in her slumber, eyes shut with a weary expression even as she slept. Without hesitation, you adjusted yourself to curl up directly behind her in a spooning position of sorts, arms encircling her waist almost immediately as you pressed your nose against her nape.

Mizu only shot you a quizzical glare, blinking groggily at the sight of your arms tightly fastened around her waist.

“Your bed is over there, you know.”

“These futons are enough for two people. Besides, I want to sleep next to my husband.” You muttered against her skin, breath fluttering against her nape in a warm embrace. Her breath caught in her throat at the mention of the false title the two of you had to act on, muscles tensing up in your grasp.

“What if I kill you? I am a demon after all.” She reiterated, a bitter edge cutting a pang of anguish directly into the existing wound of guilt embedded within you. “I don’t care..” you choked out in a shaky voice, dragging your lower lip between your teeth to suppress the tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Mizu.”

…

The entire room fell silent once more, your heart threatening to burst out of your chest as soon as you felt the warm embrace of Mizu’s arms tightly curled around you, squeezing you to her chest as her face was buried within your hair.

“I shouldn’t have brushed you off like that either.”

You shook your head against her chest, a few tears rolling down your cheeks as Mizu’s expression relaxed, softening as she held you close to herself. Both of you remained in eachother’s embrace for a bit, relishing in the warmth of your wholehearted adoration. Despite the ridges that walled between you two at times, you would always come back to her. You know full well that she meant everything to you, while she reciprocated the same. She only hushed any more apologies spilling profusely from you, holding you tighter.

“Please..Mizu..let me do anything to make it up to you. Anything at all.”

You’ll never forget the sudden flare of hunger roused in her pupils as those words vibrated in her ears, bare hands outlining your body up to dig into your shoulders. Her voice came out in a quiet hum as she pursed her lips together, shaky hands fighting the ravenous desire to yank down the shoulders of your kimono right then and there.

“Anything?”

It didn't take long for you to catch onto her implication, your breath fanning in a series of shallow exhales as your torso pressed to hers with an urgent desire aflame within every drop of blood, every rushing fiber within your body screaming her name. Tilting your head up, you only rasped out a breathless plea as your lips ghosted over Mizu's, her heart pounding furiously against her chest to which you could quite literally feel from the clothed chest to chest proximity.

A palpable heat crept into the air as it fogged the atmosphere between you two, the tension fostered thick with a lustful infatuation hinted with the beauty of love itself. You couldn’t even pretend to hold yourself back, practically lunging yourself at Mizu as your lips smashed against her own, locking yourself in a passionate grasp accompanied by her hands wandering your body shamelessly as if she wanted to tear everything off without regard.

You gasped against her lips in response to her tightened hands bunching up fistfuls of your kimono silk, bundled up within her grasp as her tongue dragged along your lower lip, completely lost in the intense craving to devour you whole. Leaning back, you didn’t resist her hands tracing the darkened silhouette of your figure to slide down the shoulders of your clothing, urging her to undress you completely as you writhed in the unbearable heat your clothes trapped you in.

It didn’t take long for you to lay before her, flat against your back fully bare while your eyes lingered over Mizu’s now unclothed form as well, taking in every part of her nude body as you felt your face burn a deep crimson from the sheer beauty of the sight before your eyes. You couldn’t help but lose yourself in those gorgeous blue eyes, now heavy lidded and misted over with a covetous desire boring into your own.

Her lips found their way across your skin, kissing down your collarbone and tracing to your lower abdomen, hands snaked below your thighs as her gaze fixed on yours from below. You heard the subtle echo of your heartbeat thudding in the clearing as Mizu halted her movements for a second, seemingly having a thought interrupt her sensual touches along your body.

“Love..? Is something-“

“Hold on. I have something.” She interjected, reaching down into the discarded pile of clothing to scramble for a small—or rather large, rectangular box, fitted perfectly into her grasp as she lifted open the lid carefully. Breath hitching at the sight, your eyes flickered over to the phallic object firmly curled between her fingers, the length a nasty contrast to her earlier gentle kisses. You blinked in surprise at the fact that Mizu just- had a harigata on her, opening your mouth yet quickly snapping it shut as you didn’t exactly wanna question why she was carrying it around so casually.

You only responded to the sight with your heart throbbing in rapid beats, along in tandem with feeling a different kind of tingling fluttering between your thighs as you squeezed them shut upon seeing Mizu fasten the object around her waist.

—

“Fucking hell- you like that don’t you? You enjoy getting filled by a demon?”

Mizu hissed through her grit teeth as her hands squeezed at the flesh of your wrists, keeping them held down against the futon as her hips slammed forward into you to meet her skin against your with every fervent thrust. Your mouth hung open as your body jerked up everytime she bottomed out inside you, tear streaks coating your cheeks like a fashionable look to getting your insides wrecked by your lover.

Every wash of pleasure surged through your body as your walls accommodated to stretch out in response to the girth of her cock, clenching the velvety insides of your cunt to trap her inside, only to be met with her sliding the harigata out to drive back into you once more with a monstrous force. Eyes rolling back in bliss, you dragged your lower lip between your teeth in response to the rush of your blood igniting your body on fire, nails digging into Mizu’s back in response to the drag of her cock along your insides.

It was difficult to handle her rough movements ridging within the vice of your pussy, the tip of her faux cock circling that one spot inside you to drive you utterly insane. You were mad with lust as you clawed at Mizu for more whenever she paused, rolling your hips up with an aching need as a sinful ring of your slick, moist against the toy bounced off the walls of the room, only driving your girlfriend to drill you into the futon with a heightened arousal clouding her eyes.

Strings of incoherent cries and moans fell from your lips in a series of pathetic whimpers, wanton pants heaving your chest up and down as her cock lodged within you comfortably. Mizu grinded skin to skin with heightened desperation, using her strength to hold you down and reach that one spot that made you sob in ecstasy as she wrung you dry.

Her muscles tightened as her thrusts grew more rapid, face contorting in pleasure further on as if she was lost in it. She stared down at you as she fucked your into the futon harshly, grip tightening around your wrists and pushing you further without regard for anything but making you squirt all over the harigata. Strangely enough, her eyes shone with that same glint she harbored whenever she lusted for blood, brows furrowing as her pupils seemed transcendent and full hate, yet loving and burrowed in your pleasure.

“Say that you love it. Or are you so fucked out you can’t even let out a pathetic whimper?”

She gasped out a breathy laugh in response to your sobs, only jamming her hips further into you in a seemingly enraged manner.

“Oh? You can’t even talk? Such a shame. Here I thought you had a problem with demon bastards like me?”

She leaned her face in nose length with yours, meeting eye to eye with you as she continued rolling her hips harshly against yours.

“Say it. Say you’re sorry.”

Her girthy cock sunk into you at the command, only earning a cry ripped from your lips while you stared at the perverse sight of the dildo sheathing in and out of you sloppily, her hand moving to grasp your cheeks together and elicit a sharp cry. Mizu’s relentless thrusts spun your mind in a haze of euphoria, making you sputter out an apology despite being fucked into the mattress roughly without stopping for even a split second.

“I’m- m- mmh-!”

She rolled her eyes at the pitiful attempt, squeezing your face to look at her while she plowed into you with each powerful thrust nearly knocking the wind out of you.

“M’sorry! I’m sorry Mizu! I won’t ever- ah-! I won’t ever say that again please!”

You whined out, a smile crossing the woman’s features as she touched her forehead to yours, her thrusts keeping the same pace yet seeming far more controlled and gentle now. Mizu sighed against the crook of your neck, delicately peppering your skin to juxtapose her previously harsh and fervent movements against your poor, abused cunt. Her thumb darted down to circle your already swollen clit, hesitating momentarily before massaging the puffy bundle of nerves along with the gentle flurry of kisses along your collarbone.

It didn’t take long before Mizu’s hips plunged deep within you, her cock making one final movement before your juices ran down the dildo to dampen the futon, staining it in a darker color pooled between your trembling thighs. Unfasting the strap, she carefully withdrew herself from your pussy, setting aside the harigata as she pressed up to your limp body in an affectionate hold. Arms encompassing your heaving body, pressing kisses to the shell of your ear in acknowledgment that you did in fact do well for her, Mizu showered you with every action she could to possibly make you feel loved.

After your breathing subsided, Mizu thoughtfully rested her chin against your shoulder, humming to herself in satisfaction as you let out a shaky exhale.

“(Name)?”

“Mhm..?”

“I know we’re just putting on the whole husband and wife thing as an act but when we can…when I kill the remaining three..”

You tilted your head up, being met with a gentle kiss encompassing your body in a scorching flare of passion as she hemmed her arms around you tightly, like a promise to never let go.

“Marry me. Be my wife when everything is over. We can live away from everything. I’ll give you whatever you need- no..whatever you want.”

You were too spent to respond.

So with a smile, you manged a tender nod.



A/N: okay yall may like this but ima be fully honest…

I FUCKING HATE HOW THIS TURNED OUT SO MUCH ITS SO BAD.

IT DOESNT GIVE THE SAME VIBE AS MY USUAL MIZU FICS WHY DID I WRITE IT SO BAD FORGIVE ME

anyway my next mizu fic will actually be good trust sorry for making this ass anon 💔

[enderlovez]

Snow

Spencer Reid x Female Reader WORD COUNT: 719

Summary: To say he's worried when he wakes up alone in the middle of the night, only to see you laying in the snow outside, is an understatement.

Content Warning: mentions of hypothermia and being cold in general, mentions of people dying from hypothermia

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

It's not often that you and Spencer spend the night without one another. Either he's staying with you in your apartment, or you're sleeping with him in his apartment — the latter is, of course, the more common occurrence, as you prefer the calmer feel of his place.

Which is why, as Spencer groans tiredly and reaches his hand across to your side of the bed, he's surprised to find that the sheets there are cold, and you're most definitely not there.

At first, it's not much of a big deal — it's not the first time you've woken in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom or get a glass of water from the kitchen, and it's definitely not the first time he's woken up while you were gone. But as the minutes drag on and you still don't come back to bed, worry begins to prick at his mind.

Spencer pushes the blanket off himself and scuffs his feet on the floor as he makes his way out of the room, padding through the apartment in search of you. But it's as though you've vanished into thin air, because you are nowhere to be found.

At least, that's until he's back in his room with his phone in hand, seconds away from calling you to make sure you're alright, when he glances offhandedly out the window and sees a pile of clothes in the show — one that looks distinctly you shaped, horrifyingly enough.

Panic surges through his body as he rushes out of the apartment, not bothering to grab more than a coat and a pair of shoes on the way out, as he moves as fast as his feet will take him.

If you're out in the freezing cold, laying in the even colder snow, why should it matter if he's cold, anyway.

Except, by the time he himself is standing out in the bitter cold, eyes searching the snow-covered ground for you, you seem completely fine, bundled up in what must be all of your clothes and humming a little tune to yourself.

"An estimated two thousand people in the United States are diagnosed with hypothermia a year," he says as way of greeting, standing over your face and looking down disapprovingly, "and of which, there are approximately seven hundred deaths a year."

Your eyes glitter in the pale moonlight as you shift your gaze from the sky to your boyfriend. "You're supposed to be asleep in bed," you reply quietly, ignoring his very morbid greeting as your eyes skim over what he's wearing. "Or at the very least, dressed warmer! Oh darling, you must be freezing out here!"

You're already getting to your feet, throwing one last glance at the sky as you take his trembling hand in your own glove-covered ones and pull him back into the building. Neither of you say a word until you're both safely back in his apartment.

"Why'd you even come out?" you demand, shrugging all your clothes off until you're left in just a pair of plaid pajama pants and a black tank top. There's a small frown on your face as you take his ice-cold hands into yours, rubbing them to try and warm them up faster.

"Saw you outside when I woke up. Thought you were hurt," he replies in a quiet voice, leaning forward and down so he can rest his forehead on your shoulder, tired again now that the adrenaline is wearing off. "Why were you out there?"

"Woke up and couldn't go back to sleep," you whisper into his ear, pressing a kiss to the chilled skin of his neck and rubbing your hands up and down his back. "I tried reading one of your books, but got really bored after a few minutes."

He scoffs as if that's the most stupid thing you've ever said in your life. "Could've woken me up, so I could keep you company," he argues gently, and despite the lighthearted tone he's using, you know he's not joking. He would much rather be woken up than risk your health.

You shake your head against him, chuckling as he begins pulling you back to the bedroom, likely so you can both go back to sleep.

"And my books are, most definitely not boring."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

can you tell me the timeline of twisted wonderland I know the game timeline started in September or august now the timeline is january or febary

The timeline for the main story is as follows:

Prologue - Based on book 1’s timing, probably very late August or very early September.

Book 1 - Crewel states that start of the school year is in September; other students like Cater drop hints that the new students are still getting acclimated to the routine of school. The light novel is even more specific; the OB fight is stated to happen within the first week of school.

Book 2 - Crowley states that the interdorm spelldrive/magift tournament takes place in October.

Book 3 - Final exams of the fall semester are mentioned, so this is before winter break. Most likely occurs in November.

Book 4 - Begins on the last day of the fall semester and continues through winter break (late December) and into the new year (January). This is pretty explicitly stated in various characters’ dialogue (Jamil, Crowley, Ramshackle Ghosts, Lilia, Octavinelle, etc.) or by in-game omnipotent narration.

Book 5 - Begins in the new year (January) and factoring in ~1 months’ worth of training, we end book 5 in mid-February, when VDC/SDC takes place. Mid-February is explicitly mentioned by Crewel.

Book 6 - Takes place literally a few days after book 5, so presumably still in February. Idia states that 5 Overblots (not counting himself) occurred in less than 6 months.

Book 7 - Estimated to be in March due to a variety of factors. It must be spring because Yuu is surprised to see (Malleus’s magically produced) snow when wandering outside of Ramshackle + says “I thought it’s supposed to be spring.” The interscholastic spelldrive/magift tournament takes place in May, but presumably has not occurred yet + Silver states his birthday (May 15) is still “a little ways away”. Assuming NRC has a spring break in April or mid/late March, it must not have happened yet because 1) no students mention a break and 2) the third years would need to apply for their internships early in the semester to allow time for their paperwork to be processed and to do additional tests and interviews. Lilia does say at his farewell party that a full 6 months have passed since the start of the school year; he would have said 7 if it was April. UPDATE: book 7 ends on Silver's birthday, May 15.

I have added this information (or at least a link to it) in my pinned post, which already contains a FAQ section. I highly recommend to my readers to look at the FAQ first before sending in their question(s), as there is a good chance that your question may have already been answered there. Any questions that are repeats of the ones shown in the FAQ will go ignored/unanswered moving forward.

[moonlightwritingf1]

Snowed-In Together | LN4

❄️ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N and Lando’s road trip to a cabin turns into a bickering match, but after a heartfelt moment, they share a kiss. By the end of the storm, their rivalry has transformed into something more.

❄️ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❄️ word count ━━━━━━━ 1.3k

The drive up to the cabin was supposed to be relaxing. Christmas lights twinkled along the roadside, and the snow had been falling softly—at least until the storm rolled in. Y/N and Lando, stuck in the same car thanks to their mutual friends’ poor planning, were now bickering endlessly.

“This is your fault,” Y/N said, shooting him a glare as the wipers struggled against the heavy snow.

“My fault?” Lando retorted, his voice rising in indignation. “You’re the one who insisted on stopping for coffee. I said we should keep going before the weather got worse!”

“Right, because skipping caffeine is the key to safe driving,” she snapped.

Every shared moment seemed to turn into a battle of wills—one neither could ever admit enjoying, even though their friends joked about their "chemistry."

It wasn’t chemistry, Y/N thought as they pulled into the snowy driveway. It was just him being insufferable.

They’d barely made it to the cabin before the storm hit full force. Inside, their friends were already settled, fires lit, drinks poured, and the best rooms claimed. Y/N and Lando, arriving last, were left with the drafty, freezing room at the far end of the cabin.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Y/N muttered, eyeing the twin beds.

Lando, standing behind her with his bag slung over his shoulder, let out a sharp laugh. “This is going to be fun.”

“Define fun,” she shot back, dropping her bag onto one of the beds.

_________________________________________________

The storm was relentless, the wind howling against the windows as the snow piled higher outside. The cabin, warm and cozy in the main living area, felt like a refuge—unless you were Lando or Y/N.

They’d spent the evening snapping at each other over every little thing.

“Who chooses Die Hard over Love Actually during Christmas?” Y/N demanded, clutching the remote.

“People with taste,” Lando retorted, lounging on the couch like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Their friends exchanged knowing glances, clearly amused by the bickering.

“You two should probably just kiss and get it over with,” one of them teased.

Y/N spluttered, her cheeks flushing. “Excuse me? As if that would ever happen.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, his smirk infuriating. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

The next day, the storm had worsened, leaving them completely snowed in. The cabin was cut off from the outside world, and the power flickered ominously throughout the morning.

Wrapped in a blanket, Y/N sat by the window, sipping tea and trying to ignore Lando’s presence as he sprawled on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

“You’re surprisingly quiet,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Maybe because I’ve run out of ways to insult you,” she shot back, though there was no real bite in her tone.

He smirked, setting his phone down. “Impressive. I didn’t think that was possible.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile.

Later that afternoon, Y/N busied herself with unpacking some Christmas decorations their friends had brought. Lando, clearly bored, wandered over and started rummaging through the box.

“What are you doing?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Decorating,” she said shortly, not looking at him.

He wandered over, picking up a small, hand-painted ornament. “What’s this?”

“Don’t touch that!” she said, snatching it from his hands.

He blinked, surprised by her tone. “Relax, I wasn’t going to break it.”

“It’s fragile,” she said softly, her fingers brushing over the chipped paint.

“It’s just an ornament,” he teased, but his voice had lost some of its edge.

“It’s not just an ornament,” she replied, her tone sharp. “It’s... it belonged to my grandparents.”

Lando’s teasing smirk faded, replaced by something softer. “Oh.”

“They gave it to me when I was little,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “It’s the only thing I have left of them.”

The room fell quiet, and for a moment, Lando seemed at a loss for words. Then, in a voice softer than she’d ever heard from him, he said, “I didn’t mean to joke about it. I get it... holding on to things like that.”

Y/N looked up, startled by his sincerity. “You do?”

He nodded, his gaze distant. “Yeah. It’s not the same, but... Christmas isn’t really the same for me anymore. With racing, I’m always away from my family. It’s like I’ve lost that connection to it, you know?”

Her heart softened, the walls she’d built around him crumbling just a little. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

He shrugged, a small, self-deprecating smile on his lips. “You never asked.”

Something shifted between them in that moment, the usual sharpness of their banter replaced by an unfamiliar warmth.

That night, the power went out completely, plunging the cabin into darkness. The fireplace provided some warmth, but the room they shared was freezing. Y/N huddled under her blankets, shivering, until Lando spoke up.

“You’re going to freeze over there,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence.

“I’m fine,” she replied through chattering teeth.

“Stop being stubborn,” he said, his voice laced with irritation and concern. She heard him get up, and before she could protest, he was climbing into her bed, pulling his blanket over hers. “There. Better?”

She glared at him, though the warmth was undeniably welcome. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Yeah, well, you never do,” he said, his voice soft but laced with amusement and settling beside her. “Doesn’t mean you don’t need it.”

The bed was small, and the proximity was unnerving. She could feel the heat of his body, his scent—woodsy and faintly sweet—lingering in the air.

“You’re annoying,” she muttered, trying to ignore the way her heart was racing.

“And you’re stubborn,” he countered, his lips curving into a small smile.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the flickering firelight casting shadows across his face. Something in his expression softened, and Y/N felt her heart skip a beat.

“Why do we do this?” she asked quietly.

“Do what?”

“Argue. Fight. Act like we hate each other.”

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look at her. His gaze was intense, but not in the mocking way she was used to. “Maybe because it’s easier than admitting the truth.”

Her breath hitched. “What truth?”

“That you drive me absolutely mad,” he said, as he reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his voice low and unsteady. “And I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding. “Lando...”

Her lips parted in surprise, but before she could respond, he leaned in, his lips hovering just above hers. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured.

She didn’t.

When his lips met hers, it was soft at first, almost hesitant. But as the kiss deepened, months of tension and unspoken feelings spilled out between them. Her hands found their way into his hair, pulling him closer, and he responded with a quiet, desperate intensity that made her head spin.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together.

“Well,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his, “that escalated quickly.”

He chuckled, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Guess we were overdue.”

_________________________________________________

By the time the snowstorm passed, everything between them had changed. The biting remarks and sharp retorts were gone, replaced by teasing smiles and stolen touches. Their friends noticed, of course, but no one said anything—at least, not yet.

As they packed up to leave, Lando lingered by her car, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“So,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, “what happens now?”

She tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “What do you want to happen?”

His smile was slow, warm, and a little unsure. “I want... whatever this is. You and me.”

Her heart fluttered, but she managed to keep her voice steady. “Good. Because I want that too.”

He grinned, leaning in to kiss her again, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world.

As she drove away, her cheeks flushed and her lips tingling, she couldn’t help but smile. The storm had left them with something unexpected, something real—and she couldn’t wait to see where it led.

[onlybeeewrites]

Angel Eyes

Request: Hello I would like to request a Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader! I see that you also do starwars and it had me thinking. How would Coriolanus do if either your his tribute or a mentor or his wife? and a little kid came up to the reader and asked her if she was an Angel?

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: classism, mentions of malnutrition/malnourishment, Coryo’s manipulation, slight diversion from canon for fic sake

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The Capitol Zoo was unusually quiet that morning, as if the city itself was holding its breath in anticipation of the Games. The sky above was pale and washed-out, making the enclosures seem more like cages.

You walked slowly beside Coriolanus, your fingers brushing together before he finally gave in and laced his with yours. It was one of the few soft things about him—this quiet affection when no one was watching.

Well, when he thought no one was watching, at least.

His eyes were locked on the girl in the District 12 enclosure, her bright dress muted by the grim bars and stale air. Lucy Gray stood with her chin tilted high, a performer through and through, even in captivity.

You both watched her for a few moments—Coryo calculating, curious, captivated. You, quieter, unsure how to feel about the girl who smiled like she knew secrets.

“She’s different,” you murmured, your eyes trialing her up and down.

“She’s dangerous,” he replied. But there was something like admiration in his voice. Though you weren’t threatened by it.

After all, she was the one behind the bars; you weren’t.

You nodded once, then gently tugged his hand. “Come on. I want to see mine.”

Your tribute was a girl of only twelve, a slip of a thing with tangled hair and limbs too thin for her frame. She was tucked in a corner of the enclosure, knees pulled to her chest like she was trying to disappear.

You reached into the elegant satchel slung over your shoulder, the one your mother insisted matched your family’s station.

“A Tolston never leaves the house looking anything less than exceptional.” Was what your mother had always said to you.

The Tolstons were old money. Old, influential, and perpetually seated at the Capitol’s highest tables, with your father’s name on every infrastructure committee and your mother curating the Capitol’s most exclusive fashion exhibits.

You weren’t supposed to cry about the Games. You weren’t supposed to feel things for tributes. But it was different now that you were in charge of taking care of one, to try and help your tribute to win.

So here you were, with wrapped honeyed bread, pear slices and soft cheese tucked between embroidered linen napkins. A large fancy ‘T’ stitched into it.

“Hi,” you said gently. “This is for you.”

She blinked up at you, wide-eyed, hesitant. Then slowly, carefully, she stood and crept over, taking the bundle like it might vanish if she moved too quickly. Her fingers brushed yours, feather-light, and you smiled.

She stared at the food, then at you. And then she said, in a small, wonder-filled voice

The little girl stood on the other side of the bars, hay in her hair while she stood in the dirt. The food you had passed was clutched tight in her small hands like she was afraid someone would take it back.

“Are you an angel?” she asked, voice breathy, eyes too big for her thin face.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

She nodded seriously, stepping a little closer. “An angel. My mama used to talk about them all the time. She said they were the most beautiful creatures in the world. That they come when you’re really scared. When you’re about to give up.”

Your heart twisted. “Oh, sweetheart…” you crouched lower so you were more at her level. “No. I’m not an angel. I’m just…” You hesitated, glancing at the food in her hands. “I’m someone who thinks you shouldn’t be hungry. Just someone who is looking after you,”

She frowned thoughtfully, tilting her head like a curious bird. “You look like one. Your voice is soft. Like my mama’s was.”

Behind you, the soft buzz of a camera lens adjusted, zooming in. You could feel the eyes of the Capitol watching—Lucky Flickerman’s commentary somewhere off to the side, smooth as ever.

“Your name is Lina, right?” you asked gently.

“Lina,” she said with a nod, “Lina Grove,”

“Lina Grove,” you repeated, giving her a small smile. “That’s a beautiful name. Mine’s—”

“I know,” she interrupted, suddenly shy. “They said your name on the screen when we got here. You’re the pretty girl that walks with the white-haired boy.”

You choked on a surprised laugh. “The white-haired boy?”

Coriolanus, who’d remained behind you but close, let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a scoff. His fingers tightened around yours—possessive, protective. “Charming,” he muttered under his breath.

Lina giggled.

“You’re funny,” she said to you. “And you smell nice. Not like the rest of this place.”

You leaned in conspiratorially. “That’s because I carry soap in my bag. Want me to sneak you some tomorrow?”

Her eyes lit up like you’d promised her a crown or the most sparkly jewels on earth.

“Really?” she whispered. “Even just to smell it?”

“Promise.”

She hugged the food to her chest like it was a lifeline. “Do angels make promises?”

You hesitated, just for a second. “Only the good ones, I suppose,”

Lucky’s voice rang out from somewhere behind the camera. “And there you have it, folks—our mentors are shining this year! Capitol hearts everywhere are absolutely melting.”

You stood slowly, wiping your hands on your skirt. Lina backed up a step but kept her eyes on you, like she wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.

“Will you come back tomorrow?” she asked hopefully.

You gave her a nod. “Every day until the Games.”

She bit her lip. “Even after?”

Something in your chest fractured. And unfamiliar ache.

“I’ll try,” you whispered. “I’ll do everything I can, I promise,”

Coriolanus stepped closer, slipping his arm around your waist, his voice low beside your ear. “You’re going to make it very hard for them to forget her.”

You didn’t answer. Just watched as Lina sat back down with her food next to her district partner; an older boy maybe around 16. And, for the first time, looked like a child again.

And for a split moment you felt guilt. 

    · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The gravel path shimmered faintly beneath your shoes as you and Coriolanus walked away from the enclosure. The buzz of cameras had finally died down, Lucky Flickerman’s voice trailing off into some other scripted sentiment. 

The air felt heavier now, quieter. As if your lungs were remembering how to breathe again the further you got away from it all.

You glanced back once—just once—toward where Lina now slept in one part of the zoo’s enclosure.

“She’s so little,” you said, more to yourself than him. “Twelve. She still has baby teeth, Coryo.”

His hand tightened on yours. Just a bit. Just enough. Though you didn’t see it, there was a small shift in the boy you loved so much.

“She’s a tribute,” he said, like it was supposed to explain everything. So simple. How could it be that simple?

“I know,” you murmured. “It’s just—” You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. “She called me an angel.”

“She’s scared. They all are.” His voice was soft but sure, like velvet hiding steel. “And you gave her exactly what she needed in that moment. Comfort. That’s not a bad thing, my love,”

You nodded slowly, but something still stirred beneath your ribs. Not outrage—nothing so dramatic. Just a quiet ache. A tug of something soft and uncertain.

He stopped walking, gently pulling you to a halt beside him. You looked up at him, and the Capitol haze made his blond hair shine almost silver. Stunning. He was absolutely stunning.

“I know it’s hard,” he said, brushing your hair from your face with careful fingers. “But we don’t get to be soft right now. Not when everything we want is within reach.”

You blinked up at him, uncertain.

He leaned closer, voice dropping like it was a secret meant only for you.

“We’re doing this for a reason. You and me. The mentor who make it out of this with winning tributes—our lives change. We move forward. Higher. We don’t get stuck in the mud like the rest of them. The Games are there for a reason. To keep the districts in line. But now they’re also the one place we get to prove ourselves.”

You swallowed, your chest tightening. Your eyes never leaving his, not once.

He slid his hand to your cheek. “You want a future, don’t you? Not just for her. For us.”

Your throat bobbed. “I do. Of course, I do, Coryo,”

He smiled then—slow, warm, like sunlight cutting through clouds.

“Then we play the game, my angel,” he said softly. “And we win it.”

Something about the way he said we made your pulse flutter. As if your names were already written into the Capitol’s future. As if this moment, however sharp around the edges, was only the beginning.

Like everything was already promised, and all you needed to do was just grab it.

You exhaled slowly, letting the guilt drift back into the shadows. He was right. He always had a way of being right. And you were grateful he was there to bring you back to common sense.

“I hate when you talk like that,” you whispered, lips curving into a reluctant smile.

“Why?” he teased.

“Because you always make me believe it.”

His grin widened, all charm and quiet power. He kissed the back of your hand, elegant and practiced. “Good.”

The two of you then continued down the path—two golden children of the Capitol, walking the road toward something both of you could only hope for; while Coryo was determined to grab.

A life he deserved, with plenty of money, power, and the Angel of the Captial at his side.

[noobsydraws]

Part of my modern AU "sugar is not a condiment"

I had a lot in mind when I drew this but it was far too much to draw, so I wrote a little text to accompany it. Please be gentle if you read it, English is not my first language 🙏.

CW: Grief, Substance abuse mentioned

When Vander wakes up he is greeted with silence.

The bedroom is dark and the lack of noise from outside tells him that it's still night time. Silcos side of the bed is empty. When Vander puts his hand to the place where his partner is supposed to be, there is no trace of warmth left. This leaves only one conclusion.

Silco has taken to his post in the living room, the sixth night in a row.

He has told Vander he does this so he and Vi can sleep at least for a couple of hours, while Silco holds Felicias youngest child through her sobs and tears.

They've tried to let Powder sleep in their own bed instead but to no avail. Her sleep only comes in short periods, when the exhaustion becomes too much for her little body to take.

Vander knows his partner is not sleeping through the nights either anyway.

Often enough Vander finds a used Whiskey glass in the sink the next morning and thinks, at least he's still using a glass. But it can't go on like this. It mustn't go on like this.

He finds Silco in the arm chair, Powder resting her head against his chest, finally asleep.

Silco looks up, the seeing eye half lidded. He's distant, detached from himself. Vander has seen his friend deal with trauma in a few different ways over the years. But this behavior is new. Well, this thing is the worst they've been through thus far. First Vander has written it off as a side effect of the pain killers, but it is just a part of his partner now, it seems.

He looks so much older, Vander can see it even in the dim light of the living room. The only light source is a small night light in one of the outlets. It paints the room in a soft greenish light. They have those in every corner of the flat. Every corner that would be too dark for Powder at night.

Silcos wound looks more ghastly, more angry in a light like this. It still makes Vanders stomach churn.

Vander doesn't touch him, he is worried Silco's going to flinch again. Never has he flinched before but then, after the incident. And it had Vander fearing the worst- to come home one day to find Silcos things gone and a note on the counter.

They're just now moving towards each other again. The relationship is not broken, but cracked. Vander longs to hold him, but knows Silco needs time and, more importantly, space.

When they first started dating it had taken Silco a long time to even entertain the idea of moving in together. And now he has lost not only the woman who was a sister to him, but also part of his autonomy and thus personal freedom. Vander watches him day by day becoming more frustrated when he knocks things over that are on his blind side, bumps into stuff or misses objects, he wants to pick up, by an inch. Worst of all he's not allowed to drive. He has to ask for assistance constantly, which has to be the worst, especially for Silco.

Vander slowly approaches the armchair and stands beside it. To his surprise Silco removes his hand from Powders back, touches Vanders hand, entwines his fingers with his.

Warmth spreads through Vander, like a sip of hot tea, you drink after coming in from shoveling snow on the coldest morning of winter.

He holds his breath, not daring to speak, scared to tip Silco off.

"I've found a therapist", Silco says under his breath, his gaze turned away again.

They've put the girls into counseling a while ago and Vander goes to group meetings but Silco has refused to come. Being vulnerable in front of other people is not his strength, Vander knows that but hasn't pushed the matter, out of fear of his partner feeling cornered.

Silco leans the side of his head against Vanders stomach, who stands unmoving, aside from his thumb stroking over the back of Silcos cold hand.

It's the first time his partner iniciates closeness, since the accident.

"I feel myself slipping... I know you've seen it too. And that's not what this family deserves." Silco softly says then and his words become clipped, so he stops, befause crying is not in this mans repertoire. Not yet, not right now.

Powders breaths are calm and even and for a moment they seem to be the only noise in the room, aside from Vanders own thrumming heartbeat.

He finally dares to move now and lowers himself on one knee, next to the arm chair.

"I'm glad to hear you want to get help." he says and looks at Silco. He's beautiful and will always be beautiful, despite the hardship and scars.

His friend slowly turns his head towards him. Silcos gaze seems more alert for a moment.

There's no alcohol in his breath tonight and for the first time in weeks Silco leans in for more than a short peck on Vanders lips, but a soft and careful kiss.

Vander looses a shaky breath when they break it.

"We don't deserve to lose each other." Silco breathes against his mouth and Vander thinks he sees the right corner of Silcos mouth twitch up ever so slightly. It could have been a trick of the light, but he wants to believe it's not.