#they always do wait until you are on your own before they stop functioning in key ways

[hello-delicious-tea]

So, MrTea is on an (unavoidable) business trip to Montreal. Currently, I have two healing sprained ankles, incessant headaches due to the constant violent fronts sweeping through, and one (1) two year old getting his year two molars (the Worst Teeth) who, since MrTea left this morning, has also developed a fever and the sniffles.

I am Persevering. The humidifiers (hugely scuzzy, abandoned them half full and hadn’t managed to clean them in the week we’ve been home) are disinfecting, the Vicks Vapo Rub is ready to roll, the baby is in the bath, and the Tylenol and warm pajamas are prepared.

[miniimight]

❝ I LIKE YOU... / I KNOW. ❞ your confession doesn't shock 'em one bit

with mikey, ran, rindou + very nervous!reader (toman timeline)

notes just a wholesome confession scene lol mikey's just as much as a nervous idiot as you are, ran is ... ran, and rindou is also an idiot . also i promise im working on requests i have like seven to work through sobs

it's not like it was hard.

he always felt your eyes on him: passing you in a hallway, in class (which he barely attended, but found himself showing up just to watch you suffer), randomly bumping into each other while out with friends... at first, he didn't care. he had a lot of attention going for him and he thought of you as another drop in the bucket.

but then he found himself paying attention to you.

when you weren't not-so-secretly pining over him, you were looking out the classroom window, a peaceful expression on your face that told him that you were about to fall asleep. or maybe you were with your friends, smiling widely as you exchanged snacks. or maybe you were giggling, your face on fire as your friends helped you craft some kind of candygram.

whatever he caught you doing, he found it endearing. and he couldn't escape it. but for reputation's sake, he tried to hide his adoration and amusement underneath his tough guy exterior. that quickly broke when you finally approached him.

your friends peeking from the hallway behind you both, you gently tapped his arm and your heart almost stopped functioning from nerves.

he cast an uninterested look over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. it was you. "hm?" internally, he was intrigued; he never thought you'd actually come up to him.

"i, uh..." you bit your lip, trying to shock yourself into calming down, but your heart still echoed in your chest.

"did you need something?"

"i'm sorry!" you exclaim suddenly, squeezing your eyes shut as you thrust the snack into his hand. "i like you!"

MIKEY

mikey's heart skipped a beat. "i know."

"uhm..." you whined softly, your body on fire. this was so embarrassing. "okay, bye!" you quickly spun around, hoping that he'd forget it the moment you disappeared around the corridor. he knew?! he KNEW? the fuck did that mean?? WHY DID YOU LEAVE SO FAST?

"wait," mikey's hand gripped your wrist. you squeaked and tried to pull away, but that only caused you to drift closer to him. his own face was dusted pink. "thanks for the snack."

you cast your eyes to the ground. "yeah, i know you're always eating it, so..."

mikey smiled, his grip softening into a delicate hold. he would never dream of giving up a chance to be with the one he'd been yearning for ever since he noticed your starry eyes on him. "wanna ride around with me?"

your eyes lit up and you sent a excited look to your friends. turning back to him as you both walked to his bike, you nervously asked, "so, you said you knew?" you asked, dreading the answer.

mikey smirked, his eyes lidded as he teased you. "yeah, s'not like you were good at hiding it."

"ugh, seriously?" you cringed, hiding your face in your hands. mikey's chuckle brought your eyes to peek over your fingers.

"it's okay, it was... cute." his voice grew quieter, like he was a little embarrassed to admit it.

you blinked at him before you truly processed his words, your heart bursting. "what?!"

mikey looked everywhere except you. "you—you heard what i said! just—come on." he grabbed your hand and ran over to his bike. his hand gripped the top of your head and you were so confused until he pulled a helmet out and slotted it over you. he clasped the buckle under your chin.

he stared at you for a moment before smiling with adoration. your face felt warm as butterflies filled your stomach.

"heh." he giggled, holding the sides of the helmet so that you couldn't hide your face from him. "cute."

as time went on, mikey wasn't so bashful when expressing his love for you.

RAN

he grinned. "ohhhh, i know." he dragged out his triumphant proclamation. "i know."

your face burned and you didn't know what to say to that. so, you bailed. "uh... okay? see you around!" you quickly turned. he knew? why'd he have to say it like that?

it took a moment to realize he was following you.

"so, where are we going?" he asked, tossing the snack package up in the air and catching it. "s'okay if it's far, i got a ride."

you stopped dead in your tracks, bewildered. "what?"

he cocked his head to the side, a calm smile on his face. "aren't we going out?"

you nearly screamed at the suggestion, not expecting this from him at all. "i—no??" you shoved your face into your hands. "i don't know!"

he laughed, captivated by how flustered you were. ran was a guy who liked to sweet talk and see his effect on others, and your reactions were just too good. "come on, i know you've been wanting some time alone with me for a while. you're not so secretive."

you groan and shy away from him. peeking from behind your hands, you meekly asked "was it that obvious?"

he grinned. "yeah. but all the better for me, right?" he put an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side and leading you out the school. "knowing i got a pretty thing like you thinking about me all day."

you rolled your eyes, finally starting to come down from the high of your confession. "it wasn't all day."

ran smiled, so tempted to respond with well, that was the case for me, but he figured you'd probably faint. he'd save that for the next time.

RINDOU

"i know." he blurted out before he could think of something better to say. for all the bones he broke, rindou's resolve was weak. but he was good at faking it.

he could tell you were confused, not expecting his response.

you fidgeted with your fingers before you finally spoke up, your face burning. "uh... okay..?" how the hell is anyone supposed to respond to that.

rindou panicked internally, rubbing the back of his neck as he sighed. "are you free right now, or what?"

your eyes lit up as your downcast gaze snapped to look at him. "i am."

a smile cracked on rindou's face as he chuckled with amusement. "then, let me take you out."

"really?!" sure, it wasn't the most glamorous thing to say, but you couldn't help it. you were excited.

"yeah. i mean, you did buy me a snack, so." he held up the package proudly. "gotta return the favor, right? come on, i got a ride."

you tried to hide how triumphant you felt as you followed him diligently. he was awkward, not possessing the same level of finesse his older brother did. like, what does he say to you??

"so..." you started, taking the lead.

oh, thank god. he let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

"you said you knew?" you mumbled, making a point to avoid his stare. "was it obvious?"

he smirked. "yeah, it was very obvious." you winced, but he continued. "don't worry. it was interesting."

you twisted up your lips in a cringe. "interesting as in a good way, or...?"

rindou racked his brain. ran was always good at thinking on the spot—what would he say? his lips moved before he could stop them. "interesting as in i couldn't stop thinking about you."

you both stared at each other—rindou in absolute shock of what just left his lips and you, completely flustered. your heads whipped away from looking at each other, lips pressed in a tight line as a million different thoughts ran through them. rindou was sure he creeped you out, but then he heard you giggle.

he looked back at you, reading every inch of your expression. you smiled softly. "that was so cheesy."

you kept on laughing to yourself, somehow enamored by his stupid line and he knew he was flying off the deep end.

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You were high maintenance and Mattheo loved maintaining you; but only on one condition.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Mattheo Riddle is completely infatuated with you, his high-maintenance girlfriend who has him wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger. You live for pink, makeup, long nails, and every glamorous touch, and Mattheo? He adores it. The upkeep, the attention, the endless pampering—he loves treating you like the princess you are. He proudly carries your bags, ensures your makeup is perfectly stocked, and always knows exactly when it's time for a nail appointment.

But there's one rule. Mattheo's just as high maintenance in his own way, only in the form of your undivided attention and affection. The moment you stop pampering him—whether that’s running your fingers through his hair, spoiling him with sweet words, or letting him cling to you like a koala—he turns into the neediest boyfriend alive.

One morning, you’re sitting in front of your vanity, carefully applying lip gloss when Mattheo saunters in, his eyes immediately locking on you. His face falls slightly when you don’t greet him with your usual kiss.

“Why aren’t you paying attention to me?” he whines, crossing the room in two strides and resting his chin on your shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for my turn for ages.”

You laugh softly, twisting in your chair to face him. “Mattheo, I’m just doing my makeup. I’ll give you attention in a sec.”

But that doesn’t fly with him. Before you can finish, he’s scooping you up from the chair, plopping down on the bed with you tucked in his arms. He nuzzles his face into your neck, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips. “I don’t care about your makeup. I care about you.”

You grin, brushing a hand through his messy curls. “You’re being dramatic. And you act like I don’t give you enough attention, Matt."

"Because you don’t," he pouted dramatically. "You can’t just look this good and not let me have you all to myself. It's unfair."

You giggled and kissed his cheek, leaving a faint pink lipstick stain. "I’m almost done. What, you miss me already?"

"I always miss you," he mumbled.

“I need my pampering too,” he murmurs, holding you tighter. “I can’t function without it.”

You know his antics, but it’s still the cutest thing in the world. You lean down and place a soft kiss on his cheek. “Poor baby, did I neglect you?”

He nods, lips pouting in full force. “So much. I don’t know how I’m even surviving.”

You giggle, but comply immediately, peppering kisses across his face until he’s smiling lazily. “Better?”

“Almost,” he mumbles, pulling you even closer. “Don’t leave me.”

"I’m just going to meet up with some friends, Matt," you giggled, running your nails lightly through his hair. "I won’t be gone long."

He lifted his head, giving you a pout that was far too cute for someone who looked as dangerous as he did. "I don’t care. I’m coming with you."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny how much you loved his clinginess. He always wanted to be near you, touching you, even when you were doing something as simple as getting ready. It was endearing, the way he never wanted to be without you.

"Fine," you said, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "But only if you promise to behave."

"No promises," he grinned, holding you tighter. "But you’re stuck with me, princess."

And honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[mcuamerica]

Stranded | Part Two

Featuring : (future) Azriel x Fem!Reader, Eris x Reader (platonic), Rhys x Sister!Reader

Summary: Amarantha is dead and you finally get to go home. Requested by @sidthedollface2 here.

Warnings: 18+ only, description of ruined wings and skin scarring, canon level violence, not proofread (i'll do it later), let me know if anything was forgotten...

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

Part One

You felt your magic return to you the day Amarantha died. It was such an ordinary day.

You were in your cabin, that Eris had found for you the moment your wings were burned. You couldn't return to the Night Court without putting yourself in danger of Amarantha finding you, so you stayed in Autumn.

You were cooking when it washed over you, feeling as if you could finally breath again. You tested your abilities, seeing how much you could do. You were able to engulf the entire room in darkness when you were satisfied it returned.

You lost hope 10 years prior, when one of the local villagers said that all of Amarantha's court was bound to Under the Mountain. That meant you wouldn't be getting anymore visits from Eris, and even in the 40 years before that, those were few and far between. You were lucky Autumn Court was on her "good" side, because she never looked too deep into the woods. From what Eris told you, Rhys had taken her to bed.

You knew Rhys, and you could guess that he did it to keep her eyes from turning towards the Night Court. Towards you. Or Velaris.

So, you lived your simple life. The cabin Eris gave you came with a horse, that you would take to and from the local village. You were able to maintain a garden. And the best thing about living in Autumn was you never had to brace a bad winter or a sweltering summer. You missed the seasons dearly, you missed Solstices and Starfalls. Most of all, you missed your family.

It still haunted you that Rhys was taking on the burden of the Night Court by himself. You wished you could be there with him.

And, the rest of your family was running Velaris. Without you. You had to wonder if Azriel and Mor ended up together, being trapped in the beautiful, romantic city all these years. You wouldn't if Azriel regretted leaving you that night. Or if he was happy you were gone.

One thing you couldn't get over, even after all these years, was that he left you. Sure, you could handle yourself, but he left you. His best friend. Even when you were young, you always wanted to be around Azriel. Once Cassian and Rhys stopped tormenting him, you were allowed to be around him. He was always the first one to show you techniques with his sword, or new flying maneuvers. But then Mor came alone, slept with Cassian, and that was it. Azriel had been pining after her since then. You weren't resentful of it until he left you the night everything went to shit. When you lost your magic and your ability to fly.

Even know, when the wind was raging in the forest, you teared up. You wish there was some way to be able to fly again. But you grew up in the Illyrian war camp with your mother and brother. You knew what destroyed tendons looked like. There was no hope. Even after Eris and his healers did everything they could to heal them as best as they could. The membrane was in tact, albeit thinner than normal, and you had full function of stretching them in and out. But, the proper strength to fly would never be resorted.

At least you had your magic back. And you waited for Eris to come find you, to placate his father enough that he had time to tell you what happened. You assumed, knowing the depletion of magic was tied to Amarantha, that she died. You really hoped that was the case. You could go home. You could see your brother. You could ignore Azriel for the rest of your life. It never even occurred to you that you could probably winnow back home. You hadn't been able to do it for a long time.

Instead of Eris bursting through the door that afternoon, it was shadows, followed by a heaving Azriel trying to catch his breath.

"(Y/N)!" Azriel exclaimed, bounding over to you. Before you had a chance to step away, he wrapped you in an embrace. One you couldn't help but melt into. You might be mad at him, but after 50 years of being apart, you were happy to see him.

You pulled away, seeing tears in Azriel's eyes as he looked you over. His eyes landed on your wings. "What did they do to you?" He asked, searching your eyes.

"After you left me that night, three of Beron's sentinels burned my wings." You said, taking a deep breath.

"I need to write a note, and then you can take me home. Is Rhys there yet?" You asked.

"I don't know, I've spent all day having my shadows look for you. I was hoping you made it to Winter... I didn't think you would still be here." He said, pausing as you started to write.

You wrote to Eris, letting him know that you would be going back to the Night Court. You also told him that you would support him if he ever needed anything. You tucked the note into an envelop and left it on the counter.

"Okay... can you winnow us?" You asked, holding out your hand.

He gazed over you again, unsaid words clear in his eyes. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). For everything. For leaving you. For not coming to get you-"

"Azriel.. please.. take me home. And then we can talk about it." You said.

He nodded, staring at you for a few moments before he took you hand and darkness enveloped you both.

Rhys was pissed.

He may have been happy to see his family, and to tell Mor and you about how he found his mate (even if she was with Tamlin), but the instant he saw your wings, he knew something was wrong. Before even asking the rest of his family what happened, he pulled you into a room alone.

After recapping what happened Under the Mountain, and more tearful hellos, he asked you to sit down. "Tell me what happened." He said.

You looked down, taking a deep breath. "That night that Amarantha took your magic, and you closed the borders to Velaris, I got stuck in Autumn. Azriel had left to go help Mor with something. I couldn't even winnow to the Night Court borders." You told him what happened with the sentinels, how Eris found you, and then watched as Rhys settled into the quiet deathly rage.

"He did this to you?" He asked, barely above a whisper.

"No," you quickly corrected. "Eris helped me." There were tears in your eyes now. "He- Let me just tell you how it started..."

Eris brought you to a cabin on the outskirts of the Autumn borders, close to a village but far enough that no one would look for you here. He had his best healers come to help heal you, but with their lack ox experience repairing wings, they couldn't completely heal them. You back even still had scarring on it from how hot the sentinels burned through them.

When Eris couldn't stay because Amarantha sent for all High Lords and their heirs, he had a healer stay with you. Until you were back to your normal health. And then, he offered to help you get to the Night Court. Said he would personally take you to the Moonstone Palace. But he warned you how cruel Amarantha already was, and how she was taking more and more people prisoner (to be part of her "court") Under the Mountain. You chose to stay in the cabin. If you couldn't go back to Velaris, you didn't want to go to the Night Court. Not when your brother was actively trying to get Amarantha to avoid it. The return of the Lady of the Night Court would surely set her eyes towards you. And Rhys would pay the price.

Eris would visit you as often as he could. Since Autumn was on Amarantha's good side, she let Eris and his brothers out more. When he was able to step away from the Forest House, he would visit you. Bring you more supplied, new clothes, sometimes even new furniture or paint to refresh the cabin. All the while, he kept you up to date on what was happened. One day, you asked why he was helping you.

"Because I can... and it was my family's sentinels that harmed you. You had no one else around. If you were to die out here, what would I tell you brother? It would have caused an even worse relationship between us. And I'm hoping to have his support when I overthrow my father. If we can tackle Amarantha first... and.. I'm hoping one day you can counsel your brother to help me as well." He explained.

"So you're helping me for your own gain?" You asked.

"I'm helping you because it's the right thing to do... and I've grown fond of this little escape." He answered.

That's how it was until three courts tried to rebel, and Amarantha barred anyone from leaving Under the Mountain. Even Eris. You wondered why he hadn't shown up when you went into the village to grab some more food, when you overheard the rumors.

"He truly helped you? He never hurt you?" Rhys asked.

You shook your head. "No, he never hurt me. He never tried anything. He... was kind. And caring. And I owe him my life." You said, looking up at Rhys.

He nodded, thinking for a moment. He paused his pacing and looking at you dead in the eyes. "Azriel left you?" He asked, seeming to recall what you first told him.

"...Yes." You said after hesitating.

"I'm going to kill him." He growled.

Your heart skipped a beat, knowing Rhys might just well kill Azriel for putting you in harms way.

"Wait- no. Please.. go easy on him." You said.

He paused, taking a deep breath. Darkness was pooling around his ankles. You could tell he was trying to reel it in. "I'm going to beat him to a pulp."

Better than killing him, you thought. You relaxed for a moment before Rhys rushed out from the door. You chased after him to see the first blow to Azriel's face. Then to his gut. Then to his legs to knock him on the floor. All while Rhys growled out in between each punch,"You. Left. My. Sister. In. Autumn?!"

Azriel didn't even fight back.

Part Three

A/N: Another tough one... I think this will have 1 or 2 more parts... which I probably won't get to writing until Sunday or Monday night (I know, i'm sorry!) Thank you all so much for your support!

Tagging: @feiwelinchen @circe143 @sidthedollface2 @crazylokonugget @i-am-infinite @thestartitaness @buttermilktea11 @tele86 @yearninglustfully @bunnyredgirl

Main Masterlist

[yurozo]

slow dancing in a burning room (leon kennedy one-shot)

synopsis: leon's new to this, new to relationships, new to expecting someone at home waiting for him. after a mission, he's determined to have a moment of peace with you. (general audiences)

a/n: this is purely self-indulgent. i just want to wrap leon in a big blanket and give him a smooch on the head.

in retrospect, a normal life for him was always out of the question. the moment he decided to drown in his own sorrows the night before the incident, as he's so aptly named it, that was it. there was no more backing out for him-- forced to live and relive the same routine over and over until his heart rattled in his chest. every moment in the firefight blurs at the edges, stretched and stringed together in a half-hearted attempt at putting himself back together again, but repairing things was never his forte. not his modus operandi, as it were.

in this war, there's no better way to reconcile than a couple quick swigs until his throat burned.

all this considered, it made the fact that it only took you two years to make leon back into a mostly functioning human being all the more impressive. you had come into his life like a tidal wave—  sweeping him up in your storm and laying him gently on the shore, fixed-up and patched together.

again, mostly.

after three days of trucking through another monster-infested city, leon stepped into the threshold of your shared home with what felt like a death rattle in his chest. he showered after the helicopter ride, had all of his mission gear tucked away at dso headquarters, and for all intents and purposes should feel normal again. but it's only after seeing you, sipping on a glass of water in the dim light of the kitchen that makes the ache in his heart finally quell.

a slow thump this time, rather than a crackling, wet noise.

"can't sleep?" leon chooses to break the silence first, leaning his hip against the opposite counter. you jolt a little, leon always had the quietest walk known to man, but shake your head in response anyway. of course, leaving the not until you're home again left unsaid. he knew you worried. you knew that he knew you worried. it was written in your blood, just as protecting was in his.

"everything went okay?" you ask, turning around to appraise him. that was your routine every time he came home, inspect leon like a bug under a microscope and ever so carefully stitch the parts back on. he looks clean, and save for a few noticeable scrapes and overgrown stubble, he's in considerably better shape than he normally is.

he hums affirmatively in response. "better than most."

"we should sleep." you try and tug him towards the bedroom but he quickly stops you, instead wrapping his arms around your waist and tucking his head into the crook of your neck.

"stay," he mumbles against your skin, lips just barely grazing it in a barely-there kiss. "just for a bit."

a soft sigh leaves you, chest heaving against his. in lieu of an answer, you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers curling in the hair long overdue for a trim.

it's then that leon has an, admittedly, stupid idea. one that sowed when he was forced to watch some terrible romance movie with you, and only blossomed the longer that he was away. his arm moves awkwardly between you until his fingers fumble for the phone in his back pocket, holding it between you as he scrolls for something with a sly grin only reserved for you.

a song you don't recognize starts playing, and leon places the phone on the kitchen counter with a questioning glance in your direction.

you respond in turn with a raised brow. "i didn't know you danced."

"i don't," he chuckles, pointedly not saying that he might only be willing to do it for you. in truth, he's willing to indulge in a very long list of stupid things to make you happy.

he hesitates for a moment before the tips of his fingers gently graze your hips, tugging you forwards. in a somewhat reluctant, but no less sincere way, he continues, "but i've been known to make exceptions."

you step forward at his insistence, letting leon tug you by the hip. a soft smile can't be helped at the knock of his temple against yours. "you're not going to step on my toes, are you?"

"don't get too excited," he grumbles, hands already clutching at your waist while trying to still keep a respectable distance from your body. he's tired enough as it is, and he's not trying to start something later than he can't finish, as tempting as it may be. with his guidance you both start swaying to the melody, a somewhat awkward attempt to emulate every romantic cliche. "i'm probably going to be terrible."

he is. not that you would say that to his face.

leon's stiff, uncoordinated in a way that could not be more dissimilar to graceful way he moves in combat. you've seen him fight plenty of times, seen how every attack and dodge feels like a choreographed routine, and this could not be more different than that leon. his steps are jerky, his hands keep shifting awkwardly against the flat expanse of your back, and he can't seem to hold eye contact with you for more than a few seconds in lieu of making sure his feet are moving correctly.

it's endearing, in an adorable, hopelessly shy sort of way. so completely out of his element, and he knows it.

the longer the dance goes on, the more apparent it becomes just how aware leon is of himself. despite your best efforts at trying to guide him along the kitchen floor, leon almost seems to be self-sabotaging. every time you make a move to ease the tension in his shoulders with a gentle push on his chest or a soft caress with your thumb, his feet stumble into yours.

"relax," you tell him, only succeeds in giving him the inexplicable urge to throw himself out the nearest window.

"i am relaxed," he lies through his teeth.

"stop thinking, then." you try again, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.

"i can't."

you've known leon too long to miss what that means. almost every time he gets back from a mission, it's like getting the empty husk of your boyfriend haunting the corridors until he can get himself back to routine. at its worst, it takes a few meals and gentle caresses for him to even look at you in the eyes. like a dog with its ears flat and a ripped up shoe in its mouth.

"as romantic as this is," you smile, trailing your hand up his neck until it lands at home on his cheek. the gesture is sweet, truly. but leon already looks like he's falling apart, and this time it's time for you to protect. "maybe we really should get some sleep."

the song comes to an end then, the last final notes trickling through the air before surrendering to a complete, all-encompassing silence. leon only gives you a slow nod, before following your figure to the bedroom. easy, quiet as a lamb.

finally, there's no more burning. all that's left is the quiet.

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

HELLO I moved last week and I have no WiFi or service in my flat (posting from a coffee shop) so I apologise for the lack of posting.

However, this was meant to be for today's wolfstarmicrofic prompt Basilisk, but it's officially much too long because I've missed writing to post lmao, so it's not a microfic.

(Ravenclaw Remus AU.)

"Lupin, you're patrolling with..." Moody flicks quickly through his notes, "Black."

"Oh, er... Alright," he says with a shrug, trying to pass himself off as calm.

Internally? Every single alarm is going off in his head.

Remus never exactly... spoke to Sirius Black, or his friends. Ravenclaws and Gryffindors aren't really destined to interact, and Remus would have chosen death over joining the Quidditch team. That didn't stop him from being one of far too many people in the school that had a major minor crush on Sirius.

Sure, he knew that Sirius had grown up rich and pampered. He always held himself in this way that made him seem ten times more important than everyone else. That wasn't exactly helped by the fact that he was a Gryffindor. Lily, Mary and Marlene were the only Gryffindors Remus has ever really tolerated. The rest are all pretentious as fuck. Everyone knows that.

Still, for some reason, his brain would short circuit whenever he was so much in the same room as Sirius. He still lays awake at night, humiliated about the time he accidentally caught Sirius' eyes and tripped over the bench in the Great Hall.

Joining the Order wasn't even a question for him. Anything to help them win the war. He hadn't exactly expected Sirius to do the same, but it just makes him feel like he's back in school. Frustratingly enough for him, Sirius has only gotten more attractive in the year since they've left school. It hasn't really mattered until now, though. He's been pretty successful in avoiding him. It's probably helped by the fact that he isn't even on Sirius' radar, but this? He's going to set the strangest first impression on the planet.

There's nothing he can do about it, though.

That's how Remus finds himself waiting outside the Order house, fidgeting with an unlit cigarette.

"Hey, Remus!"

There he is.

Remus looks up, shoving the cigarette back into the carton. Sirius has stopped in front of him, running a hand through his hair and grinning at Remus.

Leather jackets look weird on literally everyone other than him.

Remus has to jostle his brain into functioning. He blinks once, before finally mustering a polite smile.

"Hi. Should we get going?"

"Yeah. Yeah, let's go."

They walk in silence for a while, moving from spot to spot and taking the odd note.

Until Sirius decides he's done with all of that.

"Y'know, I was hoping you'd join the Order."

"Sorry?" Remus practically stops in his tracks, turning to Sirius with wide eyes. Shock ripples through him.

Hoping?

"I mean, I had a feeling you would. I'm just... glad you did, I guess."

"I didn't even know you knew I existed," Remus confesses quickly.

Sirius actually does stop moving, grabbing Remus' forearm and stopping him too.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, really. You existed on this... separate plane. I mean, you were you. Everyone knew about you. Why would I be on your radar?"

"Remus," Sirius says slowly, eyes boring into Remus'. It sends a shiver down Remus' spine. "All I did was think about you."

"What?" Remus sputters, a strange mixture of confusion and shock overwhelming him.

"Oh, I had such a crush on you." He shrugs like it's nothing; like what he just said hasn't turned Remus' entire world on its axis. "I thought that was obvious, I mean... you're bloody brilliant. Ravenclaw prefect, running a study group-"

"I can't believe you've even given me a second thought," Remus says, a little breathless.

"Merlin, I did. I remember telling James that I'd fight a Basilisk for you." Sirius chuckles to himself, but Remus is losing control over his own responses scarily quickly. "I know you couldn't stand me, but-"

"Who said that?"

"Nobody had to." Sirius watches Remus, a little puzzled. "You're not the biggest fan of Gryffindors, right?"

Well, he's not wrong.

"Besides, you couldn't stay in the same room as me. You literally fell over yourself trying to get away from me before."

"Oh, God," Remus mutters under his breath, his face heating up uncomfortably. His one comfort has been that Sirius didn't notice him embarrassing himself every time he walked into the room.

"Sorry," Sirius says suddenly, releasing Remus' hand. "I didn't mean to- Christ, I've made things even more awkward, haven't I?"

Huh.

He's not as confident as Remus thought.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean- let's just forget I said that. Finish patrolling."

No.

Remus doesn't want to forget. He needs to do something, before Sirius never speaks to him again.

Hurriedly, he grabs Sirius' hand, pulling him into an alley nearby.

Well, he's committed to it now. No turning back.

"Remus, what-"

He pulls Sirius in by his stupidly perfect jacket and connects their lips before he has a chance to second guess himself.

Thankfully, Sirius wastes no time in falling into the kiss. His lips are soft against Remus', parting just enough for their tongues to meet.

The kiss is everything he could have imagined and more. Sirius is somehow both tentative and eager and he tastes like cinnamon and fuck, Remus may as well have died and gone to heaven. His hand involuntarily slides into Sirius' hair, and he's rewarded with a muffled gasp.

Okay, maybe Gryffindors aren't that bad.

[authorred]

Doctor's Orders | Part 2 | Li Shen/Zayne x fem!Reader | Love and Deepspace

Preface: With you hospitalized and in critical condition, Zayne has taken it upon himself to ensure you are nursed back to health. Under no circumstance are you allowed to do close to anything on your own.

Part 2 of my self indulgence because why not I love this man he's so sweet???????

Part 1 Part 3 (coming soon)

Warning(s): None

Your eyelids feel like lead when you try to open them. It takes a strenuous amount of effort to move them, and your body overall feels like it’s being weighed down by anchors. You can hear the steady beeping from next to you, just barely; white floods behind your eyes the more you rouse into consciousness. You can barely move your arms and legs, let alone your head, or even your eyes. It’s the beeping of the machine that keeps you awake enough. Soon, you force your eyes open, and you’re immediately blinded by the sterility of the room.

“What. . . ?” It comes off as a soft inquiry, unheard by everyone. You’re a little disoriented, and you don’t remember how you got to where you are. You feel something on your face, covering your nose. After thinking about it for a little, you figured it’s an oxygen supplier of some kind. Did you become that hypoxic that you need oxygen? You won’t know until you talk to a doctor.

A doctor.

Your doctor.

Oh god, your doctor. Zayne.

Zayne is going to kill you.

There’s no way he doesn’t know—and if he didn’t, there’s no way he hasn’t asked to take over as your attending physician during your stay. Even though you know he’s not in the room with you, the mere thought of it is enough to send your eyes flying open. You attempt to sit up—and your body quite literally burns like the fiery depths of hell. It hurts you, and you’re stiff and sore and covered in bandages, and you think there’s a hole in your chest, but you don’t care; you fight through it.

“Don’t sit up. You’ll tear open the stitches.”

You freeze at the low timbre of a familiar voice. It’s soft as it always is when speaking to you, but you can’t help but avoid looking at the owner of it.

“Lay back down. You’ll need more rest than usual.” A hand meets your shoulder and gently pushes you back down onto the mattress—and you follow it without a word.

Your eyes don’t meet his, “I didn’t—. . . okay. I won’t move.” For a moment it’s silent and you can feel him staring down at you. You know he’s frustrated, sad, angry even. Maybe all three. You know he wants to say something, perhaps scold and lecture you about overworking yourself. You’re waiting for the inevitable but it never comes. You nervously look up at him and he’s not looking at you either.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is hoarse from exhaustion, “I didn’t mean for this to happen. The Wanderer just appeared in my complex, and. . . I was the only Hunter there.”

Zayne looks at you, “I understand. I heard of what happened. You did what you had to do to protect the people there. There were minimal injured because of you.”

“That. . . I mean, I’m glad, but. . . I feel like you’re disappointed in me.”

Zayne stares at you for a moment before sighing softly, “I’m not disappointed in you. It wasn’t your fault that you were forced into that situation. I’m only glad you were admitted when you were.”

“Be honest: how close was I to dying?”

Zayne hesitates to answer ever so slightly, “. . . Too close. Your heart stopped. You were severely hypoxic and in respiratory failure, your tissues weren’t getting adequate oxygen, and you experienced severe blood loss due to a puncture wound to your chest that barely missed your aorta.”

You don’t visibly react when you hear his explanation. “I see. I don’t remember any of that. The last thing I remember was the Wanderer coming at me. After that, it’s nothing.”

“Your body and mind were under an exorbitant amount of stress. Especially your heart. You were only at thirty-seven percent function.”

“I’m assuming that means my heart was at a risk of stopping at any time.”

“That’s correct.”

“Great,” you snicker but there’s not a shred of joy behind it. “And now I’m stuck here for weeks and maybe months.”

"Correct."

You stare up at the ceiling and don't give a response. You couldn't even if you wanted to. What were you supposed to do until you were discharged and cleared? You can't stay still—your mind is always moving, constantly running. If you don't get that energy out somehow, you'll go mad. You can't stay cooped up in the hospital. Zayne knows that too, and you hate that.

"Don't think about sneaking out like you have in the past," he says. "You've been put down as a flight risk in your chart."

You roll your eyes, "That was only once, and I only had a wrist fracture."

"You fell from a twenty-storey building and landed on the roof of a car. You're lucky that a broken wrist is all you walked away with." His voice is calm but the way he delivers it gives off agitation. You've heard the tone before—he usually gives you it when he's worried or concerned.

"Maybe." You toy with the sheets pulled up to your waist, "I just. . . I don't know why I'm like this."

Zayne places his hands in his coat pockets and turns his body, so all his attention is on you.

"I can't sit still. I get unnerved. Like I'm meant to be doing something. That's why I keep going on missions. I can sleep, but all I dream about is fighting wanderers. Even on my days off I'm wondering when an attack is going to happen."

Zayne stays quiet, only adjusting his glasses. He understands what you're saying. In a way, he's the same. He can enjoy his off time too, as little as it comes, but sometimes he wonders how the hospital is without him on the clock. "I understand. It's difficult to regulate yourself when you're constantly working. Your mind has no idea what to do when it's quiet."

"It really doesn't. And it's pathetic, because then it ends up like this and I feel like a child who can't do anything for themself."

Without a word, Zayne sits down on the edge of the bed—gently, to not upset your wounds. He's conflicted as to whether he should look at you or not. Instead, he settles on your IV pole. "It's not a crime to be taken care of sometimes. If you're hurt, that's a doctor's job. That's my job."

"Of course it is, you're a doctor," you snort softly. "If you weren't. . ."

"Even if I wasn't, I'd still take care of you."

You look over at him in silent surprise. He's not looking at you but he's never one to be dishonest. For whatever reason, you believe him when he says that. You don't know how you feel about that—a part of you wants to lean into it, but another part of you want to push against it and him. He's already under so much stress ensuring his patients are alive and as healthy as they can be. How selfish would that make you if you wanted that from him too? "Even though I constantly do things to get myself hospitalized?"

He nods softly, "Yes."

"Even though I could randomly keel over and die someday because of my heart?"

His eyes move to look at yours, a somber look in them. "Yes. Even that."

"I see." You look back up to the ceiling. "How is. . . will this affect the amount of evol I'll be able to use?"

"I don't believe this is the most opportune time to discuss this. You should rest and gain more energy."

You sigh softly, "Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Zayne stands from the bed, "Please call a nurse if you need anything. I'll be back to check on you soon."

You nod, "I won't be going anywhere anytime soon."

Zayne's lips curl up ever so slightly—if you weren't so accustomed to how he is, you would've missed it. "I'm glad. It would cause a lot of trouble if you did."

[anonymous-dentist]

Part Eight of the Catboy in the Village AU

Part One | Part Seven

-

Cellbit misses his goggles. The ones he's "borrowed" from Niki are way too small for his head, and they pull at his hair something awful. His ears ache, and not in the usual way. They burn.

Roier says that Cellbit should try and let his ears breathe, and he gently pets Cellbit's hair and holds him as he does so, but. No. Absolutely not, not now that they're both being held captive by her.

The queen's ears are as white as the rest of her hair. They're pierced, which Cellbit didn't even know you can do. They sit neatly on the top of her head, framed perfectly by her crown, and they're perfect. No tears. No chunks taken out of them. No burns. Pure white.

Every time she looks at Cellbit, she's either angry, or she's sad. That's fine, fuck her.

But every time she sees Cellbit's ears, her eyes just fill with pity, and Cellbit. Can't.

His goggles are still on the floor of his shop back home. He doubts he'll be getting them back any time soon. He misses them, anyway; he had the family's tailors customize them so they were soft, yet sturdy, enough to be both functional as alchemical goggles and as an accessory perfect for pinning his stupid fucking ears down with.

His goggles hurt, but they don't hurt. The leather is soft and worn. The lenses are big enough to hide his ears without pinching them too badly. Any pain he feels is from the action of pinning his ears down, not from the thing actually pinning them down.

Roier gets it. He doesn't like it, but he gets it. He's always encouraged Cellbit to keep his ears free, but he gets it. He used to have four arms, he knows all about hiding parts of you from the world. He smiles just so gently when Cellbit takes his goggles off to sleep every night (something relatively recent, Cellbit slept with them on until just before they got Pepito.) He pets Cellbit's hair, he helps massage the feeling back into his ears. He doesn't touch if Cellbit doesn't want him to.

But Niki's goggles hurt, and Cellbit guesses that that's on him for stealing goggles from someone so much smaller than him.

He needs his back. He needs to go home. The queen's ears are perfect. Her daughter's are adorable. He wants to go home.

But first: dinner, unwilling.

The queen won't stop staring.

Cellbit's ears are pinned. Of course they are. He isn't in his cell.

He eats his dinner. Roier made it, and it's perfection. It tastes almost just like the meals from back home, and it's almost enough to make Cellbit start purring.

Almost.

He'll show his appreciation later when they're back in their cell. Roier loves getting compliments, he's going to be purring himself by the end of the night.

But the queen won't stop staring.

Roier, still very much upset about his children, sulks into his enchiladas. His leg is pressed against Cellbit's under the table; it shakes slightly, nervous. Anxious. Angry.

Cellbit finished eating almost as soon as Roier set his plate in front of him. (Sue him, Roier's cooking is magical.) So he's just... sitting. Waiting. Avoiding the queen's look, muttering assurances to his husband.

"There would have been war a week ago if anything had happened," he whispers.

"They might not know," Roier murmurs, staring right down at his food. "Maybe no one's found the bodies yet."

"With how often Foolish is over there? No way. He'd be cutting her head off himself."

Roier cracks a smile at that.

The queen lets out an annoyed-sounding huff. "I can hear you, you know."

Her ear twitches. Right. Cat hybrid, great hearing.

Cellbit gives her a dirty look.

"We aren't talking to you," he says. "Mind your own business."

"Um, I think that you guys talking about my death is my business, actually."

Roier shrugs. "She's right."

"Don't encourage her," Cellbit grumbles.

He settles back in his seat, continuing to glare daggers at the queen.

The queen, however, is still staring.

"What?" he asks her. "Do I have something on my face?"

"No, I just..." Her eyes travel upwards towards- "Are those Niki's goggles?"

Cellbit's shoulders tense.

"No," he shortly replies. "They're mine. I found them."

She nods slowly. "Riiiight. In Niki's closet."

"No."

"You know, she told me that they went missing this morning."

"And I've had these for a couple of days now. So."

"So, I'd appreciate it if you would give them back to her. We don't steal in this castle."

Under his breath, Roier comments, "You steal people."

The queen just rolls her eyes.

Then, she sighs and leans forward, what has to be faux sympathy painting itself across her face as she lowers her eyes to meet Cellbit's.

"That isn't safe," she gently says. "You have to know that."

(Cellbit's ears feel like they're in seventeen different places at once. He can feel every tear in them growing minutely larger with every passing second. Hairs are being pulled. Muscles are crying out in pain.)

Very calmly, Cellbit responds- teeth grit, "I'm fine."

Roier eats his enchilada. He scoots his chair closer to Cellbit's. He has dark circles under his eyes, and his hair is a mess, and his clothes are rumpled and sloppy. And he bumps his knee against Cellbit's reassuringly.

The queen is only slightly undeterred.

She nods and goes back to her food.

"I have a special shampoo that I use," she says, mouth full, gross. She swallows and glances back up at Cellbit's goggles. "Mouse helped create it. It's super gentle."

"Okay...?" Cellbit questioningly says. "That's nice?"

He frowns slightly, eyebrows furrowing. What is she playing at now?

"I can ask her to give you some," the queen continues. Ah. "And- hold on, actually."

And then she fucking. Leaves the table. Just like that: placing her fork and knife down, taking one last sip from her goblet, adjusting her dress, and then leaving.

Cellbit stares at her empty seat. What?

"What?" Roier asks, reading Cellbit's mind. (As usual.)

Carefully, Cellbit looks to the side out of the corner of his eye at the guards stationed by the entrance to the dining hall. They look confused, too.

"She's weird," Cellbit declares, not for the first time since his kidnapping. "No wonder her only friends are her servants."

Roier rolls his eyes and gently nudges Cellbit's bicep with his elbow.

"Gatinho," he chides, "be nice."

Then:

"She might have kidnapped them, too."

Cellbit laughs, shocked and loud. He turns in his seat and leans his head forward until it's nestled firmly on Roier's shoulder.

Roier hums happily. He plops a hand onto Cellbit's thigh and squeezes.

"Cute," Roier comments.

Cellbit bites him. Roier moans. The guards shuffle uncomfortably.

And then the queen comes running back into the dining hall red-faced and out of breath. She has something in her hands, something small and brown and kind of ugly.

She flattens her skirts down, chugs her wine, and offers Cellbit a smile.

Cellbit sits up as she walks around to his side of the table.

"This," she says, "is for you. As an alternative."

She holds the object out, and... it's a hat. It's a brown cloth hat like Cellbit used to see Gato Kingdom medics wearing during the war. It has patches sewn on, and there's a clear indent where a pair of goggles would normally sit.

Cellbit looks at the hat. Next to him, Roier is laughing.

It's (presumably) the queen's. It's the color of literal shit. It smells like mint and sulfur.

Cellbit loves it.

"Our mother used to hide her ears, too," the queen explains. She looks down at the hat almost nostalgically. "During the war, I mean. She wanted to help the troops, so she went to the front lines to help the medical corps. She didn't want to be recognized, so she wore this hat to hide her ears."

The queen laughs a little. She's... sad. Of course she is, she's talking about her dead mother.

The Gato Kingdom's previous queen died shortly after the war's end, supposedly of a broken heart from the loss of her son.

Good riddance, Cellbit thinks. Royalty is royalty.

The queen's thumb strokes the brim of the hat reverently.

"She said that it was uncomfortable, but not painful," she continues. "It got the job done, but it never hurt her. So..." She looks back up at Cellbit with tears in her eyes and a soft little smile on her face. "If you want to use it to... hide your ears. Then. That's fine. You can have it."

Roier gasps. He's always been one for dramatics, but this gasp sounds legitimate.

Cellbit, on the other hand, feels... something. He isn't sure what, but he feels it so deep in his chest that he's sure it's his soul that's aching.

The queen said that the previous queen was their mother, but she wasn't Cellbit's mother. Cellbit doesn't have a mother. Whoever she was, she never went looking for him. Obviously, she didn't; if she had, she would have found him because how many children with cat ears are there? How many?

Cellbit swallows a lump in his throat. Why is his stomach hurting all of a sudden? Did he eat too quickly?

He shouldn't take the hat. It's probably... trapped. Or something. Mind control magic in the fabric. Or something. Lice in the elastic band. Or something.

But, for some reason, he feels himself reaching out for it, anyway. He tries to will the shake out of his hands, but he doesn't quite manage to do so. (Why are they shaking?)

He takes the hat. It's soft. It's been well taken care of, these past years since the previous queen's death.

Hesitantly, he pulls it to himself. To inspect it. For lice. Or magic.

The queen sniffles and turns her face away. After a moment, she's just fine and looking at Cellbit with a perfectly schooled expression.

"Take care of it," she orders.

Quietly, so quietly that Cellbit swears that only he's meant to hear it, she adds, "And yourself."

Cellbit doesn't meet her eyes.

Instead, he meets Roier's, and he sees his own face reflected in them. He's... sad. Why? Why does he look sad?

"You're going to look like a nerd," Roier fondly says. "Here, I got this."

His hands raise, and they brush against the strap of the goggles.

Cellbit instinctively hisses and flinches back, but then he lets out a lon breath. Closes his eyes. It's Roier. It's fine.

The goggles come off. Cellbit hears them clatter gently against the table, a sharp TINK! as they bump into Roier's plate.

Cellbit's ears pop up immediately, like they always do. (He pretends he doesn't hear the quiet gasp the queen lets out. It's none of her business.)

Taking the hat, Roier places it on Cellbit's head. His ears press down just a little, but not to a painful degree. Cellbit imagines that this is what it feels like when Roier wears a hat that rests on top of his ears: a small, unnoticeable pressure.

Complete coverage. And it's soft, too.

The smile is audible in Roier's voice as he coos, "Ayyyyy, que guapo. Nerd. Nerdbit."

Opening his eyes again, Cellbit gently smacks Roier's hands down, and then he holds them just because he can.

He loves Roier's smile. It's one of the many, many, many, many, many, many, many things he loves about Roier. Cellbit isn't much of a poet, but he would describe Roier's smile as something equivalent to the inherent beauty of a solar eclipse. It's out of this world.

Quietly, the queen scoops the goggles off of the table.

"I'll give these back to Niki," she says. "If you want something from now on, just ask. You're a prince, Cellbit. Act like it."

Cellbit briefly turns to stick his tongue out at her before looking back at Roier.

"I feel like a nerd," Cellbit admits.

Roier nods. "You look like one. But you're my nerd. Mwah!"

With an exaggerated noise, he leans forward and plants a big wet kiss to the tip of Cellbit's nose.

The queen doesn't say anything else. She just... smiles. And leaves them to themselves and their remaining food.

But, as she leaves, Cellbit swears he hears her whisper, "He looks just like her."

[wint3r-h3art]

Apotheosis | Miguel O'Hara

Apotheosis—the highest point in the development of something; culmination or climax.

Word count: 2.0k

Warnings: pwp. brain rotting smut with slight angst. Cunnilingus, fingering, vaginal sex. Some soft moment between Miguel & Reader. MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY

A/N: I finally caved in and wrote this 😩 no beta, so if there’s mistake, I apologize in advance. If you liked this please support by commenting/reblogging.

*** do not repost, copy or translate my works anywhere else. Reblog & comment is greatly appreciated. Banner by @cafekitsune

Sweat trickled down your temples as your back arched forward. Wordless panting passed through your parted lips as your mind singularly focused on his touches.

He was relentless in his assault–dragging the flat of his tongue across the seam of your drenching folds, lapping at your juices, and drinking you greedily as if you were the nectar of the gods. His thick fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs as he held you there with your knees to your chest, exposing every part of you to him.

His large body easily covered yours. Effortless in the way he moved–almost like a dance. He was a hulking presence of his own, dwarfing you so easily within the proximity.

Miguel’s face was buried into your pussy, unrelenting in his quest to unravel you bit by bit. His tongue parted the nether lips and pressed into your needy hole, pushing it into you slowly before withdrawing it again. Occasionally, you hear the lewd slurping sound pushed through the haze of your drunken desire for him. It was a slow torturous affair where he was taking his time, savoring you.

A Deep rumbling noise emitted from his chest and vibrated straight to your aching core, making your clit throb to your frantic heartbeat. The tip of his tongue pushed against your clit and swirled around the sensitive bud before he sucked on it, making every molecule in your body scream for him.

He eyed you as he was fucking you with his mouth, toying with your clit until your body shook and quivered at the mercy of his will, only then he would stop, giving you some time to breathe before he started his assault upon your senses all over again.

It felt like it was never-ending as your body was once more strung up and approaching the crescendo. Miguel was wordless as he concentrated on bringing you another mind-shattering orgasm. Of course, it wasn’t long. It never was. He was always so eager, so you came with a soft sob as your body strained and convulsed in his embrace. But still, he held onto you with a vice-like grip, pinning you down as his mouth was still attached to your core.

You have lost count of how many times you have come–hell, your mind was so delirious this time around that all you could do was laid there, waiting for him to be done.

A sly smirk etched at the corner of his perfect lips. His tongue darted out to lick the slick remnant of your release. His eyes had never left yours.

It all started with a simple touch–an innocent one almost. You accidentally nicked your finger with a knife while you were peeling fruits. The next thing you know, he was there, taking your hand into his and observing the cut. It wasn’t a bad one of course. All you needed was a bandage, but Miguel thought otherwise.

Your brain stopped functioning entirely when he suddenly placed your finger inside his mouth. His tongue slide over the shallow wound, and you could feel your pussy throb suddenly as heat rushed up to the tip of your ears. Your body felt like it was set ablaze as he averted his eyes to meet yours while he was still sucking on your finger. His expression was unhinged, yet there was something about the way his eyes bored into yours that made your pussy quiver.

“Push me away,” he told you once he release your finger, eyes still bored into yours with an unyielding gaze. You could see the way his muscles flexed and strained–the way his neck muscles would cord as if he was trying to refrain from giving in to his carnal desires. “Say that you hate me,” he said again, this time taking a step forward crowding your space as if he was trying to scare you.

It didn’t work of course.

“What?--I don’t hate you.”

“Well you should,” he said again, leaning his large, hulking form closer to you. “Everyone hates me.”

“That’s not true. I like yo—” You stopped yourself before blurting out the rest of the words as you stared up at him, mortified.

Panic began to set in, and felt like all the air in your lungs was getting sucked out. He wasn’t supposed to know. Nobody was supposed to know–yet here you were, casually confessing to a man that probably hate your gut.

Then he touched you, and all of the invasive thoughts melted away instantly.

There was something soft and gentle in the way his fingertips traced the side of your cheek that made your skin prick with goosebumps.

“Don’t say that…” His voice came out almost too soft. His eyes melted into a liquid crimson.

“Say what?”

At this point, you were as enticed by him as he was by you, but both of you wanted to be the first to admit the kind of effect you had on each other.

“That you like me…” The words came out like an admission—his way of surrendering to the lingering feeling he had been suspecting for the past months.

“Why not?”

“Because it gives me hope…” He sounded so sad that it made you ache.

His thumb stroked your cheek and you lost all of your ability to think. You realized you wanted those hands all over you. All over. Every inch of your skin. He was large and powerful. His shoulders were broad. His chest was wide and hard. He could easily snap you in half if he wished. Yet his touch was gentle like he was trying to be careful.

“W-what?”

It was like he was running out of patience at that moment.

“Just push me away before I do something stupid,” he said again. His nostrils flared as his liquid rubies glanced down to your lips.

“Like…”

“God, woman. If you don’t go now, I will kiss you!” He hissed frustratingly. Clearly, he was losing this battle.

“Kiss me then,” you bravely said though it came out weaker than you imagined inside your head. Heat bloomed across your face as you mustered up the courage to look up to him in the eyes. You noticed that Miguel’s mouth hung agape for a brief second as if the gears inside of his head were slowly clicking into place. “I won’t stop you,” you added meekly when you noticed that Miguel was still staring at you with his mouth open.

And like a snap of a finger, he inched closer until your lips were a mere millimeter away from one another. He paused there as if he was waiting for you to change your mind and run away from him, but you did the opposite.

You stood on your tip-toe and closed in the distance as your lips found his…which brought you here, lying beneath him as Miguel slowly loomed over your form as you lay there, trying to catch your breath from the God-knows-what number of orgasms he just gave you.

The tip of your breast brushed his warm, hard chest as he leaned forward and kissed you. His lips parted instantly. Greedy and hungry for the taste of you. His tongue danced with yours, flicking and sliding. Your taste lingered on his tongue as he greedily devoured you. His large palms cupping your facing prevented you from turning away from him. But how could you when he was the only thing that occupied your mind? Every breath you take, you were breathing him. It was almost scary how much a person has such a hold on you.

Yet you allowed it.

You tipped your head back, allowing him to kiss his way down to the column of your throat where he would nip and suck until you groaned beneath him. Your body shivered as you felt the head of his cock dragging across the plain of your stomach, filling you with nothing but a sense of anticipation of the promise of euphoric bliss. Your pussy was practically begging for him, clenching at the nothingness as his lips found your stiff peak, suckling on it until you moaned.

Miguel’s nose was buried in your skin, completely drowning himself with nothing but your scent. Your soft skin felt warm and inviting to him. His large hands roamed your body, relishing in the ample curve in his palms. He was feasting on your nipple, pulling one of them then the other into his mouth. His groaned reverberating into your chest when he felt your fingers buried in his hair and tugging it. His fingers easily slipped between your slippery folds. So hot and so ready for him.

Miguel tore himself from your breast as he fingered you slowly, eyes watching as pleasure crowded your sanity once more. The soft, squelching sound filled the room as his breathing become erratic. His cock was straining, practically begging to fill you with warm, inviting heat.

Once he had enough, he moved down to seat himself between your legs. His eyes never left yours as he palm his cock in his hand. You couldn’t help but stare at how hot and heavy he was for you. He settled himself at your entrance, probing the head of his cock along your folds first, coating the thick shaft with your juices before he pushed in.

You reacted with a jolt as he stretched you out. Your ass practically came off the mattress, legs hanging in the air as he thrust deep into you.

A deep groan rumbled like soft thunder rolling over the earth as he settled into a slow pace, inching forward bit by bit until you completely sheathed him to the base. You fought a whimper as you wrapped your legs around his taut waist, taking him deeper. You could feel every muscle in his body strained and corded from the effort alone.

Miguel grunted as his movement slowly became erratic. It seemed like whatever control he had left was slowly slipping. His hips surged with a powerful push, knocking all of the air right out of your lungs, while his grip on yours was relentless, guaranteeing to leave marks later.

He felt your wall flutter around him while your head thrashed from side to side. He knew you were close and the prospect of feeling the way your pussy spasm and squeezing his cock filled him with anticipation.

He thrust hard, jolting your body forward while letting his free hand roam to the space where you connected to find your sensitive bud. His dexterous fingers were rubbing and stroking, sending you reeling as your body reacted on instinct.

You came with a loud sob as your body pulsed and shuddered, your pussy rippling around his cock, squeezing him and milking him before Migule reluctantly pulled away and came all over your stomach.

None of you moved when it was over.

None of you wanted to move. Miguel stayed knelt between your legs, hunched over with one hand holding to his not soft cock, stroking until the last rament of his cum completely spent on you.

Silent filled the room when he moved to lay next to you, breathless and panting. Perspiration dampened his forehead as he tried to catch his breath. You were too exhausted and boneless from all of the earth-shattering orgasms he had given you that trying to find words to remedy the silence was far out of your mind.

In all honesty, there was no need to when he turned and draped his arm over you while his face was buried in your neck, mumbling sweet nothing into your skin before exhaustion overtook you both.

[meanbossart]

Just thinking thoughts about Orin and Drow lore, and idk if this has been asked already, but

If Orin had just disappeared for like a year, not even Sceleritas could find her, with how obsessive pre-tadpole Drow was how would he handle that? Aside from being prideful and murdery, I don’t remember in the pre-tadpole Drow lore about any instance (after he made it to the temple) of him expressing anything else. Did the two ever have a wholesome moment?

Hmmmm not wholesome, no. I'm sorry to disappoint people who might wanted to see a more explicitly vulnerable side to both of them at that stage in their lives, but that's just not... How I envision things. I don't think anyone born into the temple would have had much room to express themselves in the way average people do.

What they did have was an undeniable connection and mutual understanding. This lasted for about 7 years, so between ages 18-25 for DU drow. (Canonically he's currently 28, give or take). I think that, sometimes, they also silently understood among themselves that things weren't always fair or good.

This might sound like a whole load of nothing to some people, but based on the culture within the cult, Orin's story, and the behavior of everyone involved in it, it seems huge to me that two people who were essentially groomed to be the embodiment of murder would harbor any kind of care for one another, even if it was subtle. The fact that they could share a bed, talk shit about Sarevok, and seamlessly work together and share in the glory of their deeds as equals is what intimacy looked like for them - before DU drow's ego (and the very need of a more explicitly intimate connection with someone, to be fair) got to his head.

They killed together, they rolled around in blood together, they bickered and fought and one time Orin stabbed him in the gut and DU drow punched her jaw out of it's socket. Then they flopped down on the ground and cackled about it while Sceleritas rushed in to stop the bleeding. Is that wholesome? I think for deified bhaalspawn who know nothing but that life it's the closest it gets.

There had to have been quiet moments I'm sure. Like Orin waiting around while DU drow got ready to go somewhere, him adjusting her headpiece, Orin slicing her brother's long hair off when he first arrived and looked like some sort of sinewy wood's creature. At night, they probably laid in bed in silence and sometimes stared at each other until either fell asleep.

I am very interested in not inventing an obscured, soft side to Orin that we didn't get to see, you know? While she wasn't always the level of manic we see in-game, she was completely unfit to function normally due to her upbringing, and this reflects in her relationships. DU drow is also undeniably emotionally stunted, just in a slightly different way.

I got off rambling to no one's surprise LOL but to answer the first part of your question - I don't think he would have been quite as dramatic about Orin just up and vanishing, as there's no explicit suggestion of death in that. He would have been insufferable to be around for a while, but in that scenario I could see his duties keeping him busy.

Not to mention that, while through death, she would be leaving him unwillingly - disappearing with no trace implies the uncomfortable possibility that she truly, honestly, just didn't want to be around him. That allows room for contempt and bitterness to fester until you wrongly convince yourself there was never any love there at all, even if just to soothe your own conscience.

He would have just become a much, much worse person that way in the sense that he would have nothing to focus on besides for his lord's will - as horrific as his attitude towards Orin was, it is very much a human feature to desperately cling to connection. With Orin around, he had a little bit of fucked up tenderness and love in him - it was a personal desire completely separate from his "job", a vestige of free-will. Without her, he just has Bhaal and whatever Bhaal wants.

Orin has always unwittingly anchored him, and then, later freed him. And he never ever deserved any of it.

🤷

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Two: Undeath

Chapter WC: 3,306

A/N: Posting this chapter very early bc I just really like it. I'm going to start posting weekly on Fridays from here! There are two more chapters in this prelude, and then it's time for Rex. But first, drama.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Join the Taglist | Masterlist

Coruscant, 32 BBY

Grief is a strange thing.

It doesn't always hit you when you expect it to. Sometimes it's quiet, like a gentle wave, lapping at your feet. Other times, it's more like a tsunami, a torrent of emotions that sweeps you up and drags you down until you're drowning. 

Grief when you aren’t even supposed to be grieving, when no one around you believes anything to be wrong, feels like a betrayal, like a failure.

And when the ones you mourn are already gone without a trace, grief can feel like a punishment, like a knife in the heart, twisting and turning, making you bleed.

You'd always hated the saying, "time heals all wounds." The idea that time could erase pain, could fix things, was false, and cruel, and unfair. Pain wasn't fixed by time, and neither were the scars it left.

Time did not erase loss, or sorrow, or regret. It didn't lessen the ache in your chest, the empty hole where the one you'd loved, the one who'd shaped you into the person you were today, had once been.

That night after Qui-Gon’s funeral, you’d gone to bed hoping to find solace in sleep. But sleep wouldn't come, and as the hours passed, the pain in your chest had grown. The feeling was familiar, as familiar as the ache in your stomach and the burn of bile in the back of your throat. A thread wrapped tight around your lungs, squeezing until you felt like you couldn’t breathe, until the world started to blur and fade around you.

When you realized what was happening, it was too late to do anything. The thread snapped, the darkness rushed in, and the last thing you heard was the sound of your own voice, crying out in agony.

Yaddle was gone.

You’d felt it. The snuffing out of her life force, so inextricably tied to yours as every other Master and Padawan before you. The line of those you have connected with, those you have shared a part of yourself with, stretching back and back and back, had severed.

As you laid there on the hard stone floor of your bedchamber, it felt like someone had reached into your chest and torn out a piece of your very soul. It hurt. Force, it hurt. Every nerve was on fire, every muscle tensed, your teeth clenched so hard your jaw ached. It was like someone had taken the very thing that made you a Jedi and ripped it away.

You spent the next few hours trying desperately to rationalize what you were feeling. Yes, you were devastated Yaddle had left you behind, yes you had been unmoored by her decision to leave without a word to you, but she had not died. She couldn’t have. It was simply impossible.

Still, the pain wouldn't stop, and so you forced yourself to your feet, and stumbled to your datapad. The message you sent was brief, a simple question, and as the seconds ticked by, the dread in your stomach grew. Even though Yaddle hadn't responded, you held on to the faint hope that perhaps your datapad had failed to send the message and that you would hear from her soon.

But the days went by, and no response ever came.

By the time you were back on Coruscant, waiting outside of the Council chambers to hear the verdict on your permission to take the Trials, you could no longer deny what had happened.

Yaddle was dead, and the Force was a darker place for it.

The pain that followed was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. You didn’t want to feel it, didn’t want to feel anything, really. All you wanted was to feel numb, to be able to function without the grief consuming you. To be able to walk the halls of the Temple without looking over your shoulder, hoping to see a familiar figure, one with big, kind eyes, and a reassuring smile.

So you had tried to meditate, had tried to center yourself, to connect with the Force, and release your emotions, the way Yaddle and Yoda and Qui-Gon had taught you.

But nothing seemed to work.

And the more you tried, the more frustrated you became. You had been told you were ready, and yet here you were, unable to complete even the simplest of tasks, the tasks every other Jedi took for granted.

You didn't understand it, why you couldn't seem to clear your mind or connect with the Force, and it wasn't long before you became angry.

And when the anger faded, the grief returned.

Over and over, the cycle continued, and you wondered, not for the first time, if you would ever be able to put this behind you. But how could you? The morning after you felt Yaddle pass into the Force, you demanded an audience with the Council. They'd denied your request, of course. Not just the once, but many times over. Until finally, the day before your Trials, they had relented and granted your wish.

But it hadn’t been the answer you'd wanted.

The Council had been sympathetic, but their minds were made up. They had seen no signs of the Dark Side on Coruscant, they'd said. Yaddle had left of her own volition and was certainly not dead, as you had suggested. And if she had truly been taken, the Council had argued, the Dark Side would have revealed itself.

So they had told you to calm down and get some rest.

But the truth was, you didn't want to calm down. You didn't want to rest, and you didn't want to forget. You wanted someone, anyone, to believe you and help you. You wanted to know the truth, and the Council had refused.

So you'd stormed from the room and gone straight to your own, where you had shut the door and locked it behind you. You'd thrown yourself on the bed and cried until your body ached, and you couldn't breathe, and your head throbbed.

And then, when the tears had run out, and the ache in your chest was gone, you had pushed yourself up and set about doing the one thing the Council would never approve of.

The one thing that might just get you thrown out of the Order.

You'd gone digging for answers.

The Archives were the logical place to start, and yet, the more you'd read, the more questions you'd had. So you'd gone to the Holocron vaults and spent hours watching the projections, learning everything you could about the Sith, about their history, and their methods.

The Council knew the Sith were responsible, and yet, they weren’t doing anything about it. It was infuriating, and as the hours passed, the frustration you felt toward the Council began to grow, and the grief lessened. You stayed up all night, reading and researching, until your eyes were dry and sore, and your head was pounding.

You didn’t care. You couldn't sleep, anyway, not until you'd figured it out.

When the time came to begin your Trials, Obi-Wan was sent to fetch you, Anakin in tow. You had no idea why, and frankly, you didn't really care. Obi-Wan had looked concerned and asked if you were okay. When you'd replied that yes, you were fine, and that he shouldn't worry, he hadn't seemed convinced.

You couldn’t blame him. You had looked terrible. You felt even worse.

But when he asked what was going on, you didn’t tell him the truth. The only thing you'd told him was that you'd spent the night before meditating. That was the truth, sort of. You had been meditating, just not on the things the Council would have wanted. 

Obi-Wan hadn’t believed you either, when you told him of Yaddle's death and what you experienced that night. He'd tried to comfort you. He'd told you he was sorry, but there was no doubt in his mind that she had left on her own accord. And then, the last words he'd said to you, the ones that had stung the most.

"It's the grief talking, my friend. I'm sure the Council is right, and Master Yaddle is very much alive."

But they weren’t right, and she wasn’t alive. They were blinded by their own beliefs, and it was infuriating.

So, rather than argue with Obi-Wan, rather than try and convince him to join you, you'd let him go and focused on the task at hand. You'd taken a deep breath, and put on a brave face, and walked into the chamber.

The Trial itself was a blur. Your body was numb, and your thoughts were scattered. It was a miracle you'd even managed to complete the tasks assigned, let alone do so with any amount of grace or speed. By the time it was over, you were exhausted. All you could think about was the Council, and what they were going to do about the Sith.

They'd done nothing.

Nothing, and now Yaddle was gone, and you were all alone.

As you stood before the Council, their faces a mixture of pride and disappointment, and Yoda informed you of your passing, you barely heard a word. They waxed poetic about how you'd grown into a fine young woman, a good Jedi, a credit to your Master and the Order. But all you could think about was how, if Yaddle had lived, she would have been the one to speak the words, and her pride would have shown in her eyes.

As the others filed out, congratulating you on your success, you remained where you were, staring at the empty spot where Yaddle should have been, her green eyes filled with joy, her face lit up by a smile.

But she wasn't there. She would never be there again.

When Obi-Wan and Anakin came over, you barely noticed. The boy was excited, congratulating you, telling you he couldn't wait for his own trials. He grabbed your hand and squeezed, and you managed a smile, but when you met Obi-Wan's eyes and saw the look of concern on his face, the smile faded.

He'd asked again, what was wrong. This time, the lie came easily, and you'd told him you were fine. Just tired, just overwhelmed.

And, for the first time, he'd let it go.

Afterwards, you'd been given a few days of reprieve, a few days to enjoy being a Knight, and prepare for the ceremony, the celebration, the speeches.

You hated it.

Everything reminded you of Yaddle, and the emptiness she'd left behind.

So you had thrown yourself into your studies, and spent your days and nights in the Archives, looking for something, anything, that would give you answers. But there was nothing. No mention of the Sith beyond what you'd already discovered, and no mention of her, either.

It was almost like she'd never existed.

Finally, the day of your knighting ceremony arrived.

Obi-Wan was kind enough to help you get ready, and for that, you were grateful. But the closer it came to the ceremony, the more anxious you felt, and when the time came, the two of you were almost late.

As you sat beside him and watched the others file into the hall, Obi-Wan had leaned in and told you it would be okay. That, whatever you were feeling, it was normal. You bit the inside of your cheek so hard you drew blood, and you didn't say a word.

You were supposed to be proud. You were supposed to feel honored. Instead, all you felt was sick, and exhausted, and angry. 

You'd always dreamed of this moment. And yet, as Master Windu spoke, his voice ringing out in the silence, all you could think about was how this had been robbed from Yaddle. It was supposed to be her saber, not Master Windu's, and her words, not his, and her pride.

Mace was a good man and a great leader. You respected him immensely.

But he wasn't her.

You didn't remember much of the ceremony. All you knew was that it felt like a dream. A nightmare, really. When the room finally cleared, and you were alone, Obi-Wan approached. He asked, yet again, if you were alright.

This time, you're honest.

"I'm not," you tell him, shaking your head, your braid clutched firmly in your fist. "I'm not, Obi-Wan. I can't do this. I'm not ready."

Obi-Wan's eyes widen, and he takes a step back, shocked. You can see the hurt in his eyes, and the pity, and it makes your stomach turn.

"You're a Knight now," he replies, his voice filled with confusion. "The Council wouldn't have given you the title if they didn't think—"

"They were wrong."

He looks taken aback, his eyes searching yours. "You passed your Trials," he insists.

"It doesn't matter," you reply. The anger inside you starts to rise, and it feels like a fire, burning in the pit of your stomach. It's the same anger you've felt since the night Yaddle died. The anger that won't go away.

"What are you talking about?"

"None of this matters," you retort, sweeping your arm out, gesturing to the room. "Not if we're too blind to see what's going on, not if the Sith are right under our noses."

"You can't say that."

Your eyes narrow. "Why not?"

"Because it's treasonous," he snaps.

"I don't care."

"Well, you should."

You look down and take a shaky breath. It wouldn't do either of you any good to lose your temper.

"She's gone, Obi-Wan," you whisper. "She's gone, and the Council won't admit it, won't do anything about it, and it's not right. It's not fair. I...I can't just forget that."

Obi-Wan hesitates, and then, slowly, reaches out. You allow him to take your hands in his, and he gives yours a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I'm so sorry."

"I just want the truth," you admit, looking up and meeting his eyes. "That's all I want."

"I know." 

He lets go and steps back. You can feel the distance between you grow, as sure as if there were an actual, physical thing separating you, a wall that is rising up.

"Maybe...maybe the Council is right," he says quietly, his expression grim.

You recoil. A flash of anger, and then disbelief, and hurt, all cross your face, and your jaw clenches.

"Are you serious?"

"The Sith have not been seen in a millennia," he explains, and you can hear the regret in his voice. "If Master Yaddle had truly been taken, surely the Dark Side would have made itself known by now."

You scoff. "So you're saying you don't believe me?"

"No," he says, shaking his head, his brow furrowed. "I'm saying maybe you're jumping to conclusions. I'm saying maybe...maybe you're too close. You cared for her, more than most."

"And what's wrong with that? Are we not supposed to care, Obi-Wan?"

"Of course we are. But—"

"Then why are you—why are you saying these things?"

He hesitates, and then sighs.

"Because if there really are more Sith," he begins slowly, "and I do not believe there are, but if there are, we must remain focused. We can't afford to be distracted. To give into our emotions regarding our attachments.”

"Are you saying I'm not focused?" you ask, and the anger begins to rise again, the heat spreading through your body, making your face flush.

"No. But I am worried about you."

You turn away. "Well, don't be."

"You're not thinking clearly, my friend. You need rest. You've been going nonstop, ever since..."

You spin back, eyes narrowed. "Ever since she died, you mean?"

He winces, and his mouth tightens into a thin line. He doesn't meet your gaze, and instead looks down, his shoulders tense.

"I'm not giving up on her," you declare. "Not now, not ever. I'm going to find the people who did this, and I'm going to make them pay."

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes. He shakes his head, and you realize then just how angry you sound. How dangerous, how unstable. You hadn't meant for it to come out that way, but there it is. The truth, laid bare before you.

When he opens his eyes, the disappointment in his expression is clear.

"We have a duty," he says carefully. "A responsibility. To the galaxy, to the Order."

"A duty?" you snap. "To do what, exactly? Sit around and do nothing? To ignore what's happening, pretend that nothing is wrong?"

"Of course not."

"Then what?"

"Our duty is to the Republic," he replies. "And to the people, to keep them safe."

"And what if the Republic is corrupt?"

Obi-Wan takes a step back, and looks at you. Really looks, his gaze boring into you. You can see the hurt in his eyes, the confusion, the disbelief. He's searching for the answer, the solution, the right thing to say to talk you off the precipice you find yourself standing on, and you can't stand it. You don't want him to tell you it's okay, because it's not.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks, his voice low, his tone pleading. "Why are you pushing me away?"

"I'm not," you insist. "I'm just...I'm trying to do what's right. I'm trying to get to the bottom of this."

"By betraying the Order?"

"It's not a betrayal if I'm right," you retort.

"The Council has already spoken. They don't believe there's any merit to your accusations. Are you saying you disagree?"

"I'm saying I need to find out the truth for myself."

"How?"

You falter, and the anger ebbs, replaced by something else, a mixture of guilt and fear, and a little bit of shame.

"I—I'm not sure," you admit, and the words hang between you.

For a long moment, the two of you stand in silence, neither one moving, neither one wanting to break the stillness.

And then, Obi-Wan sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. "Well," he says quietly, "when you figure it out, let me know. Until then, I have my own responsibilities, and I can't afford to waste any more time."

"Obi-Wan," you reach for him, but he steps out of your reach, and turns toward the door.

"It's alright," he says, and despite the kindness in his voice, there is a hard edge to his words. "You've always been different, but the Council didn't take that into consideration. Perhaps they shouldn't have passed you, after all."

You flinch, and your mouth falls open, shocked. You're speechless, and as the words sink in, your heart sinks with them.

"That's not fair."

"Neither is the truth, evidently," he retorts, and turns away, walking briskly across the room.

Obi-Wan doesn't stop, and doesn't look back, and soon he's gone.

Alone, in the dimly lit room, with only the hum of the lights overhead and the faint sound of your trembling breaths, you feel a sense of loneliness like you've never felt before.

You are alone, and it is the Council's fault, and it is the Sith's fault, and it is Obi-Wan's fault, for not believing you, for not listening, for walking away.

Angry tears blur your vision, and you blink rapidly, willing them to disappear. But they won't, and before you know it, they're streaming down your cheeks. You wipe at them furiously, your cheeks burning, and your throat tight.

You have never felt more helpless in your entire life.

The darkness is creeping in, and you know that, soon, it will overwhelm you. You don't want to feel the pain, the grief, the betrayal, and the anger. You want to feel something else. Anything else.

You want to feel numb.

And there is only one place where you know you can do that.

So you pull your hood up, and step into the night.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear

@The_Great_Pipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @aynavaano

[alexiabae]

KIND¹; lia wälti x fem!reader

Summary: during a match between switzerland vs spain, lia was involved in y/n's injury.

Warnings: mention of blood, injury, hit on the head, fluff.

Note: English is not my first language.

not my gif.

"We can!" Irene shouts in the changing room before they all get out of it and go to the tunnel to wait.

This was the captain's job, but since the last encounter that it passed to other hands, even if she didn't wear the band. It doesn't matter anymore. The real captains would show it with it or without it, and Irene is the proof of it. Of course Irene gave them a speech after Ivana's, not despising the function that the coach gave her.

They all embrace one another and give some encouragement before they put a foot out from the changing room, leading it Ivana.

Y/N waited between Tere and Aitana. She brushed her braided hair, nervously biting her bottom lip.

"Stop it, you would mess it up." Aitana muttered, putting off Y/N's own hands from her hair.

Y/N turned to look at her. "It is our last chance." She confesses her worries.

Aitana smiled gently. "I know. And we give everything. You know that last game isn't all our fault. It's too from the coach side. So don't blame it on you, show them what you're capable of. Even if some of them know about it." Aitana winked, reassuring her friend and teammate. They are from the same age, they always played for the same team and they always played in the national team, youth and senior. Aitana knows everything about Y/N and Y/N knows everything about Aitana.

Y/N nodded, grabbing a hand with hers and turned to look in front again, meeting Tere's back. She saw how the other national team came out, concentration written on their faces. She gets scared when saw Ana's face, she knows that face. It was like if the blonde read her mind that when saw her, she gave her one of her soft smiles, raising a hand and waving it in the air. The midfielder does it too, but with a lipped smile.

Some of her teammates greet her too. Alexia and Jenni were the ones near her and started a little conversation, including a hug.

"Nos vamos para casa, Aitana." Y/N leaned briefly to Aitana and muttered only to her to hear.

"Cállate." The Catalan hissed, rolling her eyes. They still have their hands intertwined.

Y/N tried to focus on Aitana's hand and look away, avoiding the rival team. Some chats were heard between all of them, until the referee indicates that it was time to go outside. Y/N let out Aitana's hand and walked behind Tere. Once they are in the center of the pitch, they put themselves horizontally, waiting for the anthems to sound.

"You look pale, are you okay?" Alexia asked her while they waited for Ivana to do the captain's things.

Y/N nods, hugging her. "Sip. No need to worry." She lied to her, not wanting to disturb the concentration for her fault.

Alexia looked at her suspiciously, but remained quiet. She patted her shoulder and ran to her position, Y/N following behind, receiving a wink from Aitana since she is to her side.

She finds Ana's gaze again, who is right now in front of her. "Hey, you missed me?" Ana smirked.

It relaxes a little Y/N's nerves. "Right now no. Ask me another day." The blonde snorted by her comment.

They remained quiet and heard the count down, Spain put in movement the ball. Y/N received the ball and she passed it to Irene. The minutes passed and the possession was for Spain, like they always control the ball and Switzerland has two times the chance to score. It was a corner that almost changed the result, coming again from the Swiss part.

"You need to wake up, Y/N!" Aitana ran towards her and tried to make her concentrate. "Forget about your expectations and play. Play like you always do." The Catalan gave some encouragement to her friend.

Alexia keeps an eye near Y/N, wondering why she is playing like that, missing easy passes or distributing the ball wrong.

"You have right, Aiti. Sorry." Y/N nodded, running with more conviction towards her position, waiting for Misa to kick the ball.

The rest of the first half, Y/N changed her style. She passed to play badly to be the one who created more chances to score. They went half time with a draw.

"I don't know what Aitana told you. But keep that way." Alexia walked by her side, bringing her left arm around Y/N's shoulders.

Y/N smiled. "Sorry about the start... My insecurities get in the way." She confesses, blushing a little.

"Well... You changed your mood. If you want to talk about it, let me know." Her friend offered, smiling with affection.

"Vale. Thanks." Y/N said, leaning briefly her head on Alexia's.

They walked towards the changing room, the coach giving some tactics for the second part, letting them five minutes before to go again towards the pitch.

Irene grabbed Y/N's shoulder and stopped her until the defender was alongside and started to walk again.

"I know what happened before. I understand why you acted that way, our coach doesn't give us hope to win. But I'm giving you it." Irene started to say, the height difference is showing a little. The Basque look down to look at Y/N with firmness. "You can do whatever you want with the ball. You have that magic. You can't let ignorant people get to your head. Play like nothing matters, like if you are a little kid again and the time doesn't matter." Y/N bites her bottom lip to hold the tears from the words that her captain gave her. Because yes, she always considers Irene, Alexia and Jenni their captains.

"Thank you." Y/N muttered, nodding with her head.

"Any time." Irene smiled, squeezing her arm.

•••

The start of the second half was epic for Spain. They scored after five minutes to start it, thanks to Y/N that gave the assist to Salma Paralluelo. People would think that it was for a motivational speech from their coach, but the reality was very far away from that. It is thanks to the players that they scored. A new change came with the words that they exchanged between them.

It was the 70th minute when something changed again. Y/N was acting like a pivot, she is not used to playing in that position, but new changes came in the national team, so she needs to adapt. Well, it was in a counter attack from Spain, Y/N was the last player and she started running upside waiting for Ona to pass the ball to her. Y/N was in the center of the pitch when Ona passed it to her, when she was going to control the ball with her chest, there was a little hole on the pitch that made her lose some balance and make the rival player hit her on the face, with her feet.

Y/N felt and heard the sound the impact made on her left eye. She knew that it wasn't on the eye, but it hurt like it was. She let out a scream, falling to the ground while she covered her face with her hands.

For her teammates, it happened in slow motion. They saw how it was clearly on the eye, making them run towards her and towards the rival player, screaming.

Ana runs quickly to put herself in the middle. "Hey! She didn't do that on purpose." She tried to explain at them to understand, holding Alexia and Aitana. The blonde looked briefly to her friend, seeing how affected she is.

"I don't care!" Aitana roared. She was the first one to go to where Y/N was laying, pushing Lia aside aggressively when the Swiss tried to see how Y/N is.

Alexia was biting her lip so hard to retain what she was thinking that surely soon she made a cut. So she decided to go where Y/N is laying surrounded by her teammates.

Lia saw how the medic team from Spain came quickly and moved out all the players, seeing how they reincorporated Y/N up. A lot of blood was covered on her face.

"It's not her eye." Ana told her, letting out a relief sigh. She heard the medics saying to Spain's players that it wasn't her eye.

Lia thanked whatever it is to hear that. The brunette raised her hands towards her face and let tears roll for her cheeks, feeling really bad for her actions. Ana noticed how quiet her friend was and saw how she covered her face with her hands.

"It's not your fault, Lia. It's a bad coincidence." She muttered, hugging her by her shoulders, kissing her head.

"If something more happened I would never forgive myself, Ana." Lia muttered.

Ana sighed again. "But that thing didn't happen. So, please stop overthinking." She saw how Y/N stood up, holding with a hand whatever the medics gave her. The public started to clap, making Lia look at what happened and standing up she too, tried to go where Y/N is, but Ana grabbed her wrist, shaking with her head.

"Are you okay?" Aitana asked once she stood up, wiping something on Y/N's face with affection.

"It hurts, but I'm okay." Y/N said in a hoarse voice.

"I'm going to kill her." Aitana muttered by her side.

Y/N snorted. "Shut up. Me and you know that it wasn't true. Also, it is not her fault. There is a hole here." She pointed at the spot where it was, seeing how Aitana clenched her jaw.

The others approached her, relieved sighs and heard that it wasn't a big injury. Y/N walked slowly out of the pitch, until she saw the referee going to the player who made this to her and showed a red card, earning claps from the public and some of her teammates.

The medic team took her towards the tunnel, Y/N keeping an eye on the player that was walking behind them. The Swiss received some support from the staff team and teammates before the brunette walked towards inside.

"Hey." Y/N stopped walking, turning to look at the brunette player.

Lia stopped too, caught with the guard off. "Hey..."

Y/N smiled, grimacing a little when she felt the skin tense. "Do you want to accompany me? I pass it badly with this type of thing."

Lia nodded slowly, seeing the confusion on the medics faces. Y/N extended her hand with a smile, the Swiss took it and let it guide herself by the other three people. They approached Spain's changing room and Lia let the medics do their thing. She walked where Y/N was laying and held her hand, squeezing it when saw how scared Y/N looked.

"I don't like needles." Y/N let the other know, knowing how scared her face turned on.

Lia still didn't speak, she just squeezed her hand, caressing her palm with her thumb too. She saw how her left eyebrow was inflamed when they took off the ice pack, her eyes fully close and a bruise starting to form. The Swiss swallow, already feeling more guilty when she sees the state she lets her rival.

While the medics stitched her left eyebrow, at some point happy screams were heard, letting them know that someone scored. Right now it was the last thing that Lia cares about.

"Vale. He terminado." One of them said, cutting off the thread while the other put on a bandage.

Y/N sat up while talking about some things with them, clearly Lia can't understand it because it is in their language. They give her a water bottle, offering too one to Lia before they get out of the big room, letting the two alone.

"Sorry about Aitana's behaviour. She is very protective of me." Y/N muttered, giving her a lipped smile.

Lia copied her. "I understand. I should probably do the same thing." Lia talked for the first time.

Y/N liked her voice. "Your face sounds to me..." The Spanish player said, her eyebrows knitting, once again forgetting about her new injury and hissing from pain.

The Swiss thought that she looked adorable. "I'm Lia. I play for Arsenal, we face each other two seasons ago." She explained, caressing mindlessly Y/N's hand.

Soon, Y/N's eyes brighten. "You are Ana's friend! She told me stories about you two."

Lia blushes. "I guess it is me."

"What are you doing here?" Someone else came, interrupting their conversation.

The brunette lets Y/N's hand fall and stand up, ready to go.

"Shut up, Aitana. She is here because I asked her if she can accompany me while they stitch my eyebrow." Y/N said, standing up too.

The Catalan looked at Lia suspiciously, but remained quiet. Soon, another one came, making Aitana walk to where they are standing.

Alexia frowned. "¿Qué hace ella aquí?" She asked in Spanish. She knew it was rude, but wanted an answer without the Swiss finding out.

"Y/N tiene un crush." Aitana stated, her jaw clenching. Y/N blushed, hitting Aitana's arm. She hoped that Lia didn't understand but her name and crush is enough.

The brunette blushed too, maybe she didn't fully understand what the Catalan said, but something she caught.

Alexia leaned her head aside, walking to where they are. She extended her hand towards Lia, the Swiss accepting it shyly. "Next time be more careful, please." The midfielder said kindly, but with a firm tone, just like her gaze.

"Alexia!" Y/N whined. The mentioned shakes Lia's hand softly and hugged Y/N carefully, giving Aitana a smug smirk.

"I don't find it funny." Aitana growled, annoyed. She was standing beside Y/N, with her arms crossed about her chest. Alexia rolled her eyes, in part understanding her, but the other she just wanted to hit her.

More of them came to see how Y/N is, frowning and giving some dirty looks at Lia.

"Irene, Jenni! Let her alone, I ask her to be with me." Y/N grabbed Lia's hand when saw how the tall women walked towards the brunette with decision. She put herself between Lia and the two women.

Jenni looked at Alexia, who was there before them and wanted an explanation.

"Se nos ha enamorado." Alexia answered, shrugging with a playful smile.

Y/N turned towards her quickly, giving with an eye a bad look, while her cheeks turned red. It makes Alexia laugh.

Irene raised an eyebrow, looking at the Swiss inquisitive. "You are Ana's Lia." She pointed out, crossing her arms. She wanted to intimidate the woman, she heard too about Ana's stories and if the blonde was right, Lia can have all the approbation from the team. Barcelona team unless.

Lia swallows, nodding. In other circumstances, she doesn't get so intimidated by someone easily, but she kicked in the face of one of Ana's friends and she looked intimidating.

"Uh? Our Ana?" Jenni asked loudly, looking for Irene to confirm it. The defender nodded. "Es guapa." Jenni winked to Y/N, earning some protest from Aitana and others and the laugh from Alexia, who was finding it funny.

"Dejadla en paz." Y/N hissed, blushing more. She tried to move with Lia to the exit, but it was impossible.

"Lia? What are you doing here?" Ana asked, confused, entering inside and walking towards all of them. She raised an eyebrow when saw Y/N and Lia holding hands. "¿Qué me he perdido?" She inquired towards her teammates.

Y/N roll her eye. "Nada." She said quickly, letting out Lia's hand, even if she soon missed her contact.

Ana looked at her, a loving smile creeping on her face. "You are good. Nothing happened to your eye?" She asked, putting both hands on Y/N's cheeks, examining her close eye, seeing a purple bruise forming around it.

"Just stitches to my eyebrow." Y/N muttered, crossing her arms like a child. The blonde Swiss chuckled and kissed her forehead carefully.

"Le gusta tu amiga." Jenni hummed, making Y/N choke with her saliva. Ana turned to look at Jenni and then at Y/N, raising once again an eyebrow. She is still holding her face with her hands.

Some chuckled was heard around them, Lia a little confused but guessing that they are making fun of Y/N, for her reaction.

Y/N moves out from Ana's hold and walks to her cubby, throwing her empty bottle at Jenni. The forward grabs it easily, laughing.

"Lia?" Ona called her. The Swiss looked at the defender, who approached her and whispered. "They are making fun of her because they think that she has a crush on you." She felt bad for Y/N and wanted to help in a way, and if Lia can help you, it was okay by her.

Ana heard what the freckled girl said and smiled. Lia opened her eyes, surprised. Not waiting for it at all. Then, she walked slowly towards Y/N, not caring anymore what they could say.

"You know...? I heard some stories about you that Ana shared with me. From her perspective you look funny and adorable. I don't know... But, do you want to take some coffee later? Maybe we can share some embarrassing stories about Ana." She said, a kind smile on her lips.

Y/N looked at her, a little in awe. "I love to. I have a lot." She muttered, agreeing with the proposal.

Lia chuckled. "Good. I have a lot too." The Swiss said, grabbing Y/N's phone from her hands and writing her number phone on it. "Here you go. I texted myself to have your number, I hope you don't mind."

Ana looked offended. "I'm going to be the topic on their first date? I mean, if it was for another thing okay, but not for embarrassing stories." She muttered, making her teammates laugh.

"Look it for the good part, you create a new couple." Jenni said, laughing.

"I still don't agree with it." Aitana said stubbornly.

[whimsicalcotton]

Waiter waiter‼️ I'd like to order number 71 & 101 for the fic snippet prompt, amberpricefield 🙏

bon appetit! sorry for the wait

101: Anniversary

okay The Visual of this wouldn't leave my brain so i. tried scribbling it instead hfjdjhdgd i hope that's okay (and sorry for my janky handwriting)

--- --- ---

71: Spooning

“I don't know what you guys are talking about,” Rachel scoffs, hunched over her homework and unaware she looks about five seconds from face-planting into it. “I'm not tired.”

Chloe takes a breath to argue, but Max beats her to the punch with an unimpressed sigh of her own. “That's bullshit, Rachel.”

She knows she's in hot water if it's gotten to the point that Max is actively calling her out on her nonsense. Still, she follows perfection’s urge to deflect any and all concern. 

“I’m fine,” she insists, giving them both her most reassuring smile. “Really. I wouldn't lie to you guys about that, would I?”

A beat of silence passes, wherein Chloe and Max share a long, disbelieving look. 

“Uh, yeah you would,” says Chloe.

“Pretty much all the time,” says Max. 

“Practically every day since I met you.”

“You're literally lying about it as we speak.”

“Alright, alright,” Rachel stops them before they can go any further. “So maybe I'm not always entirely honest. But how can you be so sure I'm lying now?”

She expects them to have to think on it for a moment, to at least have a few second's struggle in dismantling her facade of a well rested and perfectly functional human being. Instead, they both come out swinging. 

“You look like you've been up all night,” Max offers, brows furrowed in concern. 

“And you sound like you ate your fucking cigarettes,” Chloe adds. 

“Plus, there's your shirt,” Max notes, moving a little closer. “It's done up all uneven. You only do that when you haven't slept well.”

Chloe leans over to look at the precarious stack of notebooks and worksheets in Rachel's lap. “Not to mention the only thing you have written down for this question is the number three. And it's a goddamn English assignment.” 

Rachel glances both down at the paper Chloe's pointing to, and at her shirt buttons, and realizes they're both right. Although instead of admitting to such unquestionably sleep-deprivation induced follies, Rachel chooses to double down on her deflection. 

“You guys really pay that much attention to me?” she asks, taking care not to let the elation sneak into her tone. “That's pretty fucking gay.” 

Chloe fires back an immediate, “You're pretty fucking gay,” while Max goes red and mumbles, “Maybe so.”

“Besides,” Rachel grins, getting perhaps a little too cocky perhaps a little too quickly now that she has them off balance. “What're you gonna do about it, make me take a nap? Hold me hostage and spoon me against my will?” 

Chloe and Max go quiet. They're giving each other another one of those looks too; the kind Rachel has come to learn can never mean anything good. That's about all she has the time to register before her stuff is snatched out of her hands and she's being unceremoniously hauled across the bed.

“Hey, hey, wait a damn second.”

Neither of them say a word. Chloe just keeps dragging her around, not content until they're all tangled up and close as close and be. Max gathers up Rachel's things in succinct and suspiciously squirrel-like fashion, moving to lay them in a semi-neat and equally precarious pile atop the girl's desk. 

“Guys, c'mon, I was just kidding.”

She tries to sit back up, or at least wriggle her way out of the Chloe-shaped bear trap she's found herself in, but she really must be tired because all she manages to do is mess her hair up and bury half her face in the pillow.

“This is so unfair,” Rachel announces as Max sits on her other side. She peers up through her wild hair to give Max the most piteous, dramatic look she can manage. “You're not gonna let her get away with bullying me like this, are you?” 

“Oh no,” Chloe says, looking more than pleased with her new position half wrestling, half snuggling up to Rachel. “Max, is she giving you the doe eyes? Don't fall for it, she's just being a drama queen.”

Max hesitates a moment more before slapping her floppy sleeves over her face. “There. Now I don't see any bullying or any pouting.” 

“Ignoring a girl in need?” Rachel huffs, giving up and fully burying her face in the pillows. “That's low of you, Caulfield.”

She's answered with a duet of laughter and the feeling of Max shuffling close and pressing up to her other side, joining Chloe in laying an arm over her waist. It's impossibly warm nestled in between them, and all those assignments are still taunting her from the desktop, and she really ought to get up again before Max and Chloe succeed in their little scheme and she winds up spending the afternoon lazing away with them instead of getting any work done.

“This is kidnapping,” she mutters, not moving an inch. She tries and fails to hold back a yawn. “This is harassment. You'll be hearing from my lawyers.”

“Sure, babe,” Chloe says, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Whatever you say,” Max hums in agreement, nuzzling closer.

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Between The Sheets

Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Summary:A lazy Sunday morning in bed with Steve leads to something more...

Warnings:Smut, 18+, Unprotected Sex (obviously), Spooning, Cock Warming, Cuddle-fucking, Breeding Kink, Daddy/Mommy kink (kind of??)

Word Count:990

Authour’s Note: OH WE MAKING BABIES I’ve written a few filthy fics before, but this one is truly honest-to-god filthy..so I’m sorry.. also sorry if there’s any mistakes!

It was no secret to you about how Steve wanted a family of his own. A family of his own with you. The memory of him sharing his fantasy of having ‘six little nuggets’ running around always lived in the back of your mind. 

It was also no secret to you that Steve loved being snuggled up to you. Spooning close to you, his chest pressed to your back whilst he peppered small kisses to your shoulders, neck and behind your ear.

His arm would always sling its way around your body, his large hands finding their place holding your breasts, fingers toying with your nipples, rolling them under his fingertips.

It was one of those lazy Sunday mornings where neither of you needed to be anywhere, and the warmth of your bed was more appealing than the cold outside world. Your naked bodies huddled together, his morning wood eagerly pressing against your bare pussy.

“Keep me warm for a bit, Honey?” He rasped out, his voice husky with sleep.

“As you wish” you smiled as you hoisted your leg up closer to your chest giving him access to your pussy.

Steve swipes himself through your folds a few times, coating himself in the wetness of your arousal, before guiding his increasingly hard and thick cock towards your core. He slowly sinks inside you inch by inch until he’s as close to you as he can be.   

Steve's size is always a stretch to you. He's just so thick that the press of him inside you is never anything short of a tight squeeze, and yet, you welcome the delicious burn that comes with him being inside you.

Everytime Steve pushes himself into your bare cunt, with nothing separating you from him, his mind betrays him and all he can think about is breeding your pretty pussy. Filling you up until you’re so absolutely full with him.  

You knew what Steve was thinking about, he was thinking about making a start on getting those six little nuggets that he so badly wanted. You knew he was thinking about it, because it’s what you were thinking about too.

“Want you so bad, honey” he purred against your ear “wanna give you my kids”

“Well what are you waiting for big boy, let’s do it” you say suggestively over your shoulder.

Steve swears that his brain stops functioning for a moment, images of you all big and swollen with his child flooding his mind. It didn’t take very long before his hips snapped into action, sliding almost all of the way out of your warm wet pussy, before his hips thrust back up to meet yours, filling you with his thick cock. 

He keeps fucking up into you whilst his large hands are holding the weight of your boobs, squeezing the soft flesh of them under his fingers. He’s always been obsessed with your boobs, and in this position he was able to take full advantage of the feel of the soft weight of your tits in his large hands.

“Think about how big your tits’ll be when they’re full of milk…fuck” he groans out continuing to toy with your peaked nipples.

His hand snakes down to splay over your stomach as he holds you close, whilst thrusting up into you with his thick cock.

“Can you feel me right here, Honey?” He says pressing his hand down on your stomach.  “I’m practically in your guts” his voice groans out.

Steve always managed to leave you breathless every time. The stretch of his cock filling you so completely. 

It wasn’t enough for Steve to be this close to you, he wanted to look at your face as he filled you. He pulled out of you briefly with a grunt before gently man-handling you until you were laying flat on your back. He moved himself so that he was hovering over you, caging you safe between strong arms.

“Wanted to see your pretty face, Princess. Wanted to look at you whilst I breed this pretty little cunt.” He says as he presses the red leaky head of his cock at your entrance, before rocking his hips to slide himself deep inside you once more.

 You reached your hand up to gently cup his face in your hand, stroking your thumb over his cheek. There was something about being under him like this that would send your heart racing. No matter what, he was always your Stevie.

“Making me feel so good, Stevie…Feel so full…” you whined out.

“Yeah…you’re so tight, honey…gonna fill you up so good.” he moaned out between grunts. 

“Gonna make me a Mommy, Stevie?”

“Fuck…” he drawled out. “Yeah Honey..Daddy’s gonna fill you up and make you a Mommy” His hips continued thrusting into you, whilst his hand dropped down to rub over your sensitive clit. 

It didn’t take very much more than a few more rolls of Steve’s hips and his fingers rubbing tight circles over your clit before you were coming. Squeezing his thick cock as your orgasm rushed over you.

The squeeze of your tight wet walls, hugging his length so deliciously was what sent Steve over the edge. Burying himself so deep inside, whilst he stilled above you, filling you with the hot spurts of his release.

He looks down at you through the mess of his hair that’s fallen over his eyes as he leans down to capture your lips in a deep kiss.

Pulling away from his lips, you reach your hand up once more to rake your fingers through his hair, moving it out of his eyes.

“So…Daddy, huh?” you lightly tease.

“You started it, Mommy”

“Do you think it worked?” you smile.

“Well I suppose there’s no harm in doing that again..you know just to make sure...I know I certainly would be up for round two if you are.” he chuckles.

“I’m ready when you are, Harrington.” You smirked.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - The Fight

I'm basically a Ruben Dias x Reader factory now 🤣

Summary - Reader and Ruben Dias have a fight before a party.

Enjoy!

"There's no surprise who you're bringing to the party. It's obviously Ruben. I on the other hand am planning on finding my own hubby at the function."

"Is that so?" You laughed. You had been on the phone with your friend Cherry ever since the two of you left work. Now you were at home, getting ready to take a shower and prepare yourself for the party tonight.

"Don't mock me for being excited to attend this V.I.P. party." Cherry chuckled. "Ruben probably brings you to one of these events every weekend."

"You'd be surprised." You said. "Ruben is a pretty quiet guy. He doesn't party like that, or at all for that matter."

"Well he will tonight. What are you wearing?"

"Oh I don't know? I have this cocktail dress that I haven't worn yet. But I warn you it's pretty skimpy."

"Great! I'll wear a skimpy cocktail dress to match you. Which time are you and Ruben arriving?"

"I dunno at ten maybe? Ruben won't be home until eight."

"Alright, I'll see you later then. "

"See you later Cherry."

You got off the phone and jumped right into the shower. There was no need to worry about dinner because there was plenty of leftovers in the fridge. Out of the shower you took your time doing your make up, pampering yourself with all the beauty products that you barley used. Despite liking the quiet lifestyle that you and Ruben had you remember that you hadn't always been like that. Enjoying a night out again would be fun, especially since it was your boss birthday, the chief editor of the magazine you worked at. And she had a habit going all out for parties. It would be fun.

"I'm home!"

"Ruben?"

You heard him calling from the living room. You had just tried out your dress and heels for the night and felt compelled to step out into living room in them. To Rubens surprise of course.

"Wow." He said, eyes darting widely at you. "You look..."

"You like it? It's not too skimpy?"

He shook his head. "Skimpy? Nah. I like skimpy."

"Ruben." You laughed. He dropped everything to get to you, basically ambushing your neck and shoulders with kisses.

"And you smell good too." He groaned. "Why the warm welcome?"

"What do you mean why?"

Ruben stopped kissing you and held you out in front of him. "Did we say we were going to dress up tonight?"

"Ruben I'm not playing dress up. This is my outfit for the party tonight. "

His eyebrows furrowed. "What party?"

You gasped. "My bosses birthday party? Did you forget that it's tonight?"

Ruben looked to come to the realization. "Oh that party." He let go of you and went back to pick up his gym bag from the floor. "Yes that party. I ironed a nice shirt for you to wear but you should probably wait to put it on until after dinner."

Ruben had you trailing his steps into your bedroom,  in a way ignoring what you just said.

"Ruben?"

"Yes baby?" He pocked his head out from the closet where he stood.

"Did you hear what I just said?" You frowned. He was leaving you hanging for some reason.

"Yes and about that party." Ruben stuffed his things in the closet before closing it and turning back to you. "I don't think I wanna go to that."

"You what? But you said you would."

"I know what I said, I just don't feel like it anymore. You know how it is."

"No I don't. Feel free to explain." You folded your arms.

Ruben sighed. "It's been a long day Y/N. I rather rest on the couch with you.  Put on a good movie or something? "

"But Ruben we do that every night. I was really excited to go to this party with you."

"Sorry." He shrugged and moved past you.

"Sorry? That's all you have to say for yourself?" You were quick to follow him into the living room, feeling your heart raise as you did."

"I'm very sorry?" He took a seat on the couch, stretching for the TV remote. However you stepped in front of the screen, blocking the signal.

"Y/N?" He frowned.

"Ruben, I let you drag me with you to all of your events. Can't you just attend this one with me? I mean my boss and all of my friends are going to be there."

"I never force you to come with me to any of my events. That's your choice." Ruben said his voice bit agitated.

"Yes, that's my choice as your girlfriend to come with you. Can't it be your choice as my boyfriend to come with me?"

"No." He said, without a second thought.

"Ruben?" Your hands fell to your side, a bit hurt by his remorseful response.

"I'm sorry baby, but I said I didn't want to go."

"You never want to go anywhere!" You shouted, stunning Ruben by the fact. "At least not anywhere I want to go."

"Y/N?" Ruben stood. He looked sorry to have upset you. "Let's not fight." He said, stretching for your arm. However you pulled away. Not wanting him to touch you.

"Y/N?"

You shook your head. "I'm going to that party. I promised Cherry I'd meet her there and when we make promises to each other we keep them."

"Y/N." Ryben sighed. "I didn't mean to..."

You took a step back as he took a step forward.

"Y/N, please." He seemed desperate to touch you but you kept moving away from him. The two of you ended up in the kitchen, where you grabbed your keys and purse from the counter.

"There's leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry." You muttered.

"Y/N." Ruben realized what was happening, that you were leaving him.

"I'll ask Cherry to take me home after the party, so don't wait up for me."

"Y/N, please don't go. I'm sorry, but please don't..."

"You know..." You said this with a hand to Rubens face, silencing his attempt to apologize to you. "...I understand your need to rest and recover and all, but I actually thought you would do this for me. I guess I was wrong."

"Baby?"

You turned your back on him, heading towards the door.

"Baby wait, I'm..."

You slammed the door in his face before he could manage to squeeze out yet another heartless apology. You were going to that party with or without him.

"I'm so sorry about Ruben" Cherry said, as the two of you met up for the party at the rooft bar of the fanciest hotel in Manchester. You told her about the fight you had with Ruben before you left. "Here, let me you buy you another drink." She said, snatching the empty glass from your hand.

Your attempt to enjoy the night had failed. You couldn't get the thought of Ruben out of your mind. You were still angry with him for not coming. But you were probably more upset by the way you left things. You and Ruben hardly argued with each other and when you did it simply left you heartbroken.

"Now tell me why a beautiful girl like you is sitting alone in a place like this?"

You were startled a little by the guy who suddenly approached you. He wore a blue suit with a red tie and his har was slick back with alot of gel, too much gel for your liking.

"I...I'm just waiting for a friend." You stuttured.

"A boyfriend?" He asked, raising a brow.

You shook your head. "Just my friend."

"Good." He said and sat down next you.

You looked towards the bar where Cherry went, unfortunately she was nowhere to be find at that moment. "Great." You thought.

"What's your name?" The guy asked. He was big and tall, but not nearly as big and tall as Ruben, who you really wish was here to save you right now.

"Y/N " You said in a manner of business.

"Nice to meet you Y/N. I'm Raul."

"Hi." You muttered, not really in the mood to chat with anybody right now.

"I'd like to buy you a drink if that's okay with you?" He said, eyes wandering freely across your chest.

"Actually my friend is getting me a drink as we speak." You pointed to the bar. Raul looked in the same direction but was unsure at whom you were referring to.

"Right, your friend." He said. "Does she bring you here often?" He said, referring to the rooftop bar.

"No, but my boyfriend does." You just had to mention that you had one for the guy not to get the wrong idea. His eyebrows rose in surprise.

"I see. But where is he now since you said you were here with your friend?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "At home, watching a movie or somethin?"

"And he left you to go out by yourself looking like that?" The man continued to eye your skimpy cocktail dress.

You chuckled. "I guess he kind of did."

"What a fool, no? If you were my girl I'd never leave you out of my sight not even for a minute. You can tell him I said that."

"Thanks but I don't think my boyfriend..."

"No need." A voice said behind you.

You turned around in suprise. There he stood.

"Ruben?"

He wore a pair of jeans and the beige sweater that you originally picked out for him to wear.

"What are you doing here?"

Ruben didn't answer you but kept his narrowed gaze at the guy occupying the stool next to you. That's when Cherry appeared behind Rubens shoulders with two flutes of champagne in her hands.

"Sorry that I took so long. Your boyfriend called me on my way to the bar, asking about the adress to the party. I had to text him the details so he could come here." She said.

You turned to Ruben. "You did? Why?"

His expression softened shifting away his gaze from the man sitting next to you.

"I'm sorry baby. It was stupid of me not to come with you in the first place."

"I'll say." The man beside you coughed.

"Can you...." Ruben curled his lip. That was Cherry's cue to help me get rid of the guy, offering him a drink at the bar.

It was just you and Ruben now. You still couldn't believe that he came.

"You shouldn't feel forced to do something that you don't want to do Ruben. I'm sorry if that's how I made you feel."

He shook his head and grabbed your hands. "No. I want it to be me you bring to these types of things. I'm mean I wouldn't want anybody else but you to be my date. And I should have understood that earlier."

"Oh Ruben." You clinged onto his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

He spoke against your lips. "If you want me to dance, I'll dance, even if I'm shit at it. I'd do anything for you Y/N. I made a mistake of making you think otherwise."

"Oh Ruben. You don't have to do anything for me."

He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting your heels from the ground, twirling you around a bit.

"But I do." He whispered. "Because I love you. "

"I love you too."

"Let's not ever fight again."

"I agree."

[residentfromnowhere]

| SOUP |

GiyuuTomiokaXHashira!Reader

TW: 18+ Themes, Masturbation, & Voyeurism Kink

Note: not proofread and I was half sleep when I made this so apologies for this mess of a Drabble -w-

“Yes, Y/N fuck me harder…ffffuuck-“

How did you get here? How did it get to this point and When did it get to this point? How did you get yourself into this mess of a situation to where your trapped in the door way of your friends home when all you were doing was delivering a bowl of soup. Soup for Christ sakes? And to someone who you thought was just a good friend no less? One second, you were walking down a path you have taken dozens of times to reach a fellow hashiras house and then the next thing you know, you open a door and hear not just anyone moaning, but him moaning. Loudly. See, it’s not the moaning that startles you and makes you stop in your tracks, it’s the fact that he’s moaning YOUR NAME out of all things and saying the most lewd and vulgar phrases afterwards that makes you freeze.

If anyone saw you now, they would think that you were a statue. Stuck between making a run for it or just standing there and waiting until after he’s done. There were many windows of opportunity to where you could have ran for the hills but each time, your body would cease to function, making you have to hear him call out to you and talk about you in such a way that you don’t know if you will ever recover from this. You were terrified to even breath in fear that he would notice but knew that if you didn’t leave soon, you would see something that will alter your perception of him forever

Giyuu Tomioka was a kind, quiet soul whose skill was nothing short of amazing and can easily be recognized as one of the demons corps best. He was the first to ever speak to you when you first arrived and always showed kindness and understanding towards you. So imagine how shocking it must be to see someone you look up to and call “friend” pleasuring them self to the thought of you. You respected him and saw him as more of a teacher than anything so why is it that you’re just now learning about his feelings for you And like this?

You snap out of your train of thought when you suddenly hear a low, breathless grunt. You finally get the courage to look through the cracked door and see a half naked Giyuu panting, chest rapidly moving up and down as he watched the remaining of his essence spurt out and god it was so much. He was covered in it and the thump from him laying down made you jump backward, having your head hit the wind chimes right above you. You both freeze, not knowing what to do and at that moment, you decided to drop the soup and run faster than you ever ran in your life and never thinking of turning back.

Ever since that day, you haven’t been able to look him in the eyes but he didn’t show that he minded it. At first, you weren’t sure if he saw you or guessed that you were there but after a few conversations, things seemingly went back to normal. Well, so you thought. What you didn’t know was that he sensed you and knew the entire time you were there and it just made him hornier. He was too far deep to stop now and he thought since his muse was there, he might as well put on a show.

He’s only keeping quiet for the sake of the friendship and for your own peace of mind but when I say that even after you left, he had another round because the very fact that you stayed made him horny and honestly couldn’t help himself, i mean he went harder than before. You could have sworn he mumbled something along the lines of “thank you for the soup” while walking away but wasn’t to sure. I guess we will never know, hmm?