#they insult you and then they make out about it after

[bunnis-monsters]

Becoming the Queen

Bee hybrids x Fem!Reader

warning: oviposition, orgy, breeding, oral

WK: 5k

A/N: I hope this is alright for a Valentine’s Day special… this is a commission, hehe. The lovely members on kofi got to see this 2 weeks early ><

It was early, the grass you trudged through to get to work still wet with the morning dew. You never truly enjoyed waking up before the sun rose, but you loved what you did and could never give it up.

You were a florist, owning the only flower shop in the county. People from all over would come to buy a bouquet, and you were up to your head in flower arrangements by the late afternoon.

Some customers were kind, tipping you well and making sure their flowers were well taken care of. Others got on your very last nerve, daring to say your flowers seemed old or wilted.

It took everything in you not to leap over the counters. You could take people insulting you, but no one could insinuate that your flowers weren’t perfect. You grew them yourself, preening and watering them to perfection.

As you neared your flower shop, you noticed there were more customers than usual waiting outside. Usually most of your sales happened after 10 am, not so early in the day.

But as you took out your keys and looked up, you realized that not all of them were there for flowers.

One of your windows was broken, shards of glass covering the floor and a bit of blood staining the windowsill. Something has smashed through the glass!

And from taking one look into your shop, you realized that they hadn’t just broken your window.

Bouquets lay strewn across the cool tiles, petals blowing in the wind as you opened the door. Someone or something had been in your shop and had ruined your carefully arranged bouquets.

A shard of one of your potted plants crunched under your foot as you took in all the damage that had been done. It would set you back several weeks.

“Damn it…”

Although it frustrated you to no end, you brushed off your skirt and set off to the back, grabbing a broom and getting to work.

After getting the mess up and opening up the shop, you tried your best not to think about what destroyed your inventory. You focused on your work instead. It was always easy to lose yourself in a good book while waiting on your next customer, but today your mind kept wandering back to potential culprits.

There were a group of teenagers that vandalized a restaurant a block away last week. At the local boba place, someone had been stealing the boba and straws. It wasn’t unthinkable that the other incidents may be related to what happened earlier that morning.

You closed the shop for the night, sighing as you zipped up your hoodie. It was way too cold, you’d have to bring your coat tomorrow if you planned on being out this late.

It couldn’t be helped, you had to stay after closing to contact clients and refer them to other florists that could get their arrangements done now that the ones you prepared were ruined.

Thankfully, most of your clients were kind enough to overlook it, but you received a few earfuls that you couldn’t complain about. At least they weren’t leaving a bad review…

The night air made you shiver. You rubbed your arms and continued on home, dreading tomorrow. There was so much work you’d have to redo, and money you would lose out on.

‘I hope there’s going to be enough money left over for me to pay my bills this month…’

You were stirred from your thoughts when you felt a chill go down your spine. For a moment you just assumed it was the frigid temperatures making you feel this way, but something was off.

The world around you was quiet. The way home had sparse light, and before that night you had never been afraid of the dark. It comforted you, in fact.

But as you froze in the middle of the path, your heart thumping against your chest, you realized that there was a sound that drowned out everything else. You hadn’t noticed it at first, and now it was almost unbearably loud.

A buzzing filled the air, and you quickly had to cover your ears as it only increased in volume.

You picked up something else, the smell of honey. Slowly, you opened your eyes.

It took a moment to fully comprehend what was before you. There were several humanoid silhouettes surrounding you, and their outlines were… fluffy?

“Is this really her?”

“Yes, I told you she was soft!”

“And she makes the flowers bloom?”

“Yes, yes!”

A hand reached out to tilt your chin up, and you were face to face with some kind of insect-like creature. It was taller than any man you had ever seen, with big black eyes and yellow… fluff? Fuzz? You weren’t sure, but these things didn’t have normal human skin.

“Ah, she’s just as pretty as you said.”

The other creatures let out a satisfied buzz, encircling you. They all seemed rather curious and excited, lifting up parts of your clothing and examining you.

“H-hey!”

When you yelped, they all backed off, seeming confused and a little hurt. “Wh… what the hell are you… things? Why are you following me!?”

The leader stepped forward again, a bit sheepish but understanding. “Sorry… we saw how upset you were about the mess we made and-“

“You all caused that mess!?”

They all let out whines and upset buzzes as you groaned. The entire day had been a nightmare you’d wake up from soon. It had to be.

“I’m going to bed…”

You moved past the group, but they followed after you, seeming concerned and nervous.

“But you’re coming with u-“

His mouth was covered by another’s hand. “We’re sorry for the mess. Please, we’ll help repay you tomorrow. So… don’t be too angry.”

It was hard to stay too angry with them, they sounded genuinely remorseful and a touch sad. “… alright, but you’ll need to be here early tomorrow.”

You went to bed, figuring that this would all be over once you had a good night of sleep. There were no strange bee-like creatures in your front yard, no difficult messes to deal with, just a bad dream.

Unfortunately you were very wrong.

Walking outside with your hot coffee and sporting your pajamas, you were met with several expectant faces.

“You’re awake!”

You stood there for a moment, blinking sluggishly before staring down at your coffee. After blinking a few times, you breathed in and out.

“So… you are real then.”

The creatures were bee hybrids, a species you heard about before. Hybrids weren’t exactly uncommon, but it was rare for insect based hybrids to leave their hives or nests to interact with humans.

They did keep their promise and help you prepare bouquets the entire day, pollinating your flowers and following after you baby ducklings with their mother.

Unbeknownst to you, the bees had been watching you for a while.

It started when they lost their queen.

For months she had been bedridden, and no eggs were laid. Of course, the bee hybrids were much more concerned about their beloved queen than eggs, but she was beside herself with worry.

“Who will take care of you when I’m gone?”

The queen knew she was well past her egg bearing years and was going to die soon. After all, what purpose did a queen have when she couldn’t expand the hive?

“Don’t say things like that, your majesty. You won’t leave us…”

They were stricken with grief after her passing, nearly a year went by before they even considered a new queen.

Their last one had been a bee hybrid born in that very hive. Wanting to keep the tradition of raising a new queen wasn’t possible since she had only ever birthed sons.

Not wanting to take the chance of foreign bee hives trying to spy on them by giving them a female, the bee hybrids looked elsewhere for their next queen.

You happened to be a perfect match.

Not only were you beautiful and plump as a good queen should be, your kind nature and gentle heart told them you would be an amazing mother to the little ones.

The only problem was getting you to the hive.

“She’s so pretty, I love her…” said one of the bee hybrids, his wings fluttering as he watched you remove the thorns from some roses.

“She is. I want to stuff her full of my e-“

The others turned red and buzzed at the horny bee. “H-hey, don’t talk about the queen like that!”

“But that’s what everyone’s thinking…”

The worker bees pouted, flying around you and offering pollen or honey. The guards watched from afar.

Most of the bee hybrids were not what you would call… intelligent. But there were some that ran the show and made all of the important decisions.

“We’ll take her soon. Our hive needs a queen, and if we don’t get one soon, everyone will go mad. We need a queen to mate and protect, it’s what keeps us calm,” said one of the guards, his stinger twitching and ready to attack.

“But she loves working with the flowers. What if we put a strain on her mind? If she is unwell, our hive will suffer with her.”

That was true, the bee hybrids’ productivity and mental well being depended on you. If you were depressed, they would be as well. Not only that, they’d be constantly trying to cheer you up and become worse if you remained in that state for too long.

“I think I know what we can do to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

~

You had never felt so tired in your entire life. The day hadn’t been so tough, but as you closed your eyes to go to bed, suddenly your body felt so heavy that you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to get up.

Sleep took you, and when you woke up everything seemed… different.

Your usually stiff bed felt incredibly soft, your body melting into the plush material.

“Ugh…”

The moment you let out a groan, you heard the sound of buzzing and frantic voices.

“The queen is awake!”

“Oh, my queen are you alright?”

“Hurry, prepare her breakfast and bring the towels for the bath!”

You rubbed your eyes as you listened to the bustling around you. When your vision was no longer blurry, you could hardly believe what you were seeing.

No longer were you in your small bedroom in your modest home by the forest. The walls of your room were shaped like a honeycomb… no, they were a honeycomb. You could even see the amber colored liquid pooling at the bottom as some bee hybrids scooped it up.

You were laid out on a king sized bed, with thick blankets and plush pillows surrounding you like some kind of nest.

Surrounding you was a swarm of bee hybrids. Some were teeming with excitement and giddy energy, while others peeked around their fellow hybrids with curiosity. The ones closest to you, though, seemed a mix of concerned and nervous, fretting over you.

“Oh, what if she isn’t feeling well? Should we give her some honey?”

“Breakfast first, she can have honey on toast or biscuits.”

“Humans really eat honey in that way?”

While you struggled to get your bearings, they continued to flit about the room doing various things to acclimate you.

“Where… am I?”

Every single one of the bee hybrids paused, their attention solely on you. Several whispered among themselves as their gaze stayed on your plump figure.

“You’re home, my queen.”

A taller, less fluffy bee hybrid walked forward, his expression neutral. He kneeled before you, taking your hand and raising it to his mouth for a kiss.

“Q-queen? What do you-“

All at once they all rushed forward to dote on you. Your body was covered in kisses, and you could feel their soft fluff almost everywhere.

“My queen, we’re so happy!”

“We promise you’ll have a good life here, no more stress or worry!”

Gentle nips and bites were pressed into your sensitive neck and thighs, hands moving to caress and grope all of your body.

You were still groggy, and immediately began to warm up when one hand found its way to your inner thigh. When you let out a startled moan, the bees on the bed began to buzz and focus on that spot.

“Our queen is sensitive!”

A few of them pried your thighs open, inspecting your bare cunt and giving it a few experimental touches and licks. Had they undressed you beforehand?

Their tongues were long and thin, delicate against your slowly hardening clit. You could tell they were all excited by the way their buzzing increased and their bodies shook.

Your scent filled the air, attracting more bee hybrids from the hall. The ones on the bed touched and fondled your sleepy body as the others watched from the sidelines.

Your face heated up when you realized they were stroking their cocks, their eyes glued on your body and the way it was being played with by their peers.

There was no chance to react or cry out in protest, you were being too overwhelmed by pleasure. One of their tongues entered your cunt, making your eyes widen and your fists clench the silk bed sheet underneath you.

“She likes that, don’t stop.”

You felt one of them latch onto your breasts, their long tongue swirling around your nipple. Their antennae tickled your face, and you felt completely overstimulated.

Every touch made you twist and buck your hips, it was hard to control yourself. Never before had you felt such intense pleasure, and it was making you see stars.

‘This has to be some sort of wet dream…’ you thought to yourself, squishing your plush thighs together. ‘Might as well enjoy it…’

“Is she ready yet?” one of them cooed, nuzzling their fluffy face against your neck.

“Not for eggs, but…”

The others backed off, and a smaller, more feminine looking bee hybrid climbed on top of you. He was still at least half a foot taller than you, but tiny compared to the others.

“H-hello, my queen…” he chirped shyly, giving your cheek an affectionate nuzzle. “I’ll be the one to mate with you first…”

He was even fluffier than the others, and his cock was already twitching against your thigh. It was more long than thick, and had a pinkish, orange color.

You reached out to touch it, your fingers wrapping around his length. This made the smaller bee hybrid gasp, his hips bucking wildly in surprise.

The other hybrids stepped closer, buzzing with both excitement and jealousy. Already, the single male was receiving all of your attention… they all wanted a turn!

Fortunately for you, they had been ordered to give you space. This would be your first time with a bee hybrid, and if they weren’t careful, they could end up hurting their precious queen.

Your health and well being meant more to them than anything else.

“M-my queen, ahh!”

His eyes glistened with flustered tears as you stroked his cock, honey colored precum seeping out of the tip. You couldn’t remember the last time you had pleasured yourself.

If this was a dream, you were going to have fun.

You laid on your back, pulling the hybrid in by his hips. It was clear out of the two of you, he was the one lacking experience.

“Oh, you’re so pretty my queen-“ he blubbered out, his hips rutting against yours as his cock settled between your pussy lips. You could feel his tip kissing your clit, and it was enough to have you both let out a shuddering moan.

“Mmph…”

You kissed him, letting his long tongue slip down your throat as you moved your hand to guide his cock towards your entrance.

The moan he let out in your mouth as he sunk into your fat cunt was sinful, and out of the corner of your eye you noticed several of the bees were fucking their fists to the sight of you being fucked by one of their own.

“T-too good! I’m gonna-“

His cum spurted into your womb, he was finishing before he could even properly thrust in and out of you. You were going to whine about it, but something caused you to pause your complaints.

While his cock twitched inside of you, it swelled up, and before you could question what was happening, eggs began to pool into your womb along with his cum.

The feeling of them being fucked into you, stretching your pussy out as the eggs were laid inside of you made your head spin.

Your pussy clenched around the eggs, and before you knew it you were cumming harder than you ever had before. You arched your back, tears running down your cheeks as you rode out your high.

By the end of it, you were a mess. Cum from both you and the bee hybrid pooled around your thighs, soaking into the expensive feeling sheets.

“This… isn’t a dream, is it?”

The hybrid gathered around you, some cooing over your spent, naked body while others were desperate to have their hands on you.

“It’s no dream, my queen!”

“We all love you!”

“Let’s get you to the bath, you deserve to relax!”

You let out a tired sigh as you were carried away. The tub was nearly as big as your bedroom back home, and several of the bees joined you in the warm, pleasantly scented water.

You could smell fresh flowers and honey, and you let out a sigh of relief when several pairs of hands went to work massaging your sore muscles. A pair of two slipped between your thighs, toying with your sensitive clit and feeling around to make sure all of the eggs were safe and sound inside of you.

“Is the water warm enough, my queen?”

Hands cupped your breasts, giving them a playful squeeze before rubbing honey scented soap into them. “Mmph, yes, it’s good…”

You glanced down at your belly, noticing it poked out slightly. The memory of how the eggs felt being pushed inside of you made your cheeks heat up.

This was all a lot to process. If this wasn’t a dream like you had originally assumed, then that meant you had been taken away to a bee hybrid hive and made into a queen.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions…” another bee said, giving you a sympathetic look. “But you don’t have to worry, we’ll cater to your every want and need. You’ll never want for anything.”

Deciding a fight wasn’t worth it, you sunk back into the warm water, letting yourself be pampered and taken care of for now.

“… I want to talk to whoever is in charge here.”

The two hybrid bathing you shared a look before speaking.

“That would be you, my queen.”

You placed a hand on your temple, rubbing it before replying. “I mean, who decided that I would be queen? Surely someone here has been making decisions regarding the hive while there was no queen.”

A silence fell over the room, the only sound being the water droplets falling from your skin.

“Well… I guess that would be the council. Are you requesting a meeting with the council, my queen?”

You nodded, and the two stood before getting you dried off and dressed. They were obedient, doing exactly as you asked. “Are you sure, my queen? You still need your breakfast and-“

“I’m sure, take me to the council.”

The walls of the hive were made of honeycomb, unsurprisingly. Each section contained a bee hybrid that was hard at work, making honey while chattering amongst themselves.

“Haven’t you heard, Bumble? There’s a new queen, and she’s a pretty one too!”

“Yeah, she’s already had her first batch of eggs too!”

“That’s not fair, I wanted to give the queen my eggs first!”

You avoided making eye contact with them, your cheeks hot with embarrassment again. It flustered you to know their words were causing your panties to grow wet.

Hiding was useless, though. The scent of your arousal caused the bee hybrids near you to react. Their antennas twitched while their cocks hardened the second your scent reached them. It was an immediate reaction that had you hiding within the safety of your guards as you were escorted to the council.

“My queen, what brings you here?”

You stood before the council, looking up at their pleasantly surprised faces. There were around 30 of them, all sitting in a half circle. Papers were piled next to each bee, and even while their full attention was on you, their hands still moved to work on the papers in front of them.

‘Busy and a bee’ was a phrase you heard a lot growing up, and as you watched them flit about the room, writing and shouting orders all while keeping their eyes on you, it finally dawned on you how accurate it was.

“I came here with questions. My first one is why am I here?”

They paused their work for a moment, and some shooed away any bees that weren’t in the council before shutting the doors.

“… as you may know, bee hybrid hives consist mainly of males,” one of the council members began, standing and walking towards you.

“Female bees are not born often, meaning that we cannot run a hive without… taking a female on as our queen,” another finished, setting aside a stack of finished papers.

“It’s also a great way to diversify the hive and prevent… inbreeding.”

You raised an eyebrow as the bee hybrid stood in front of you. He was nearly 10 feet tall, and crouched down in front of you, taking your hand before kissing the back of it.

When he looked into your eyes, they sparkled with devotion. “Our undercover agents have been watching you for months. You’re kind, and you love nature. You must know that without a queen, our hive will die out within a year.”

It was hard to look away from his dark orbs. The way he looked at you made your heart race.

“I know that we took you away without asking, but we cannot let you go. Please know that you will be treated with the utmost care, and you will be pampered beyond belief.”

For a moment you stayed quiet, your expression softening. “… what would be expected of me as queen?”

The entire council perked up, some leaping out of their seats in excitement without warning. They quickly returned to their work when the leader gave them a warning glance.

“You only have a handful of responsibilities each day. You greet the public, bond with the children, attend diplomatic meetings, and… breed with your loyal subjects to create your children.”

Your face heated up at the memory of your morning session with the pretty bee hybrid.

“And… I do these every day?”

They nodded. “Diplomatic meetings are less frequent, but everything else is daily.”

Daily… you’d get fucked like that daily?

‘Am I really going to abandon the life I’ve been living for the past few years just to get a good fuck and some pampering?’

Yes. Yes you were.

“Alright… I’m in. Not like I have much of a choice in the matter anyways…”

The bees surrounding you let out happy whines and buzzes. You were surrounded once again, being nuzzled and pulled into fluffy chests. They were all scenting you, obviously happy you were going to be their queen of your own free will.

“Then let’s get you some breakfast, my queen. You have much to do!”

Breakfast was filled with lots of chattering among your current attendants. They were fluffy, jealous things that lounged about in your quarters, burying their faces into your soft body and gossiping amongst themselves.

Once you were done eating, you were escorted to your first duty as queen.

“I hope your royal attendants behaved well. They are just excited to have a queen to dote on again. If you have any sexual needs or desires, they will perform them for you. And do not worry, they cannot produce eggs, so they exist purely for your pleasure and entertainment.”

It seemed strange, but your attendants seemed quite happy and spoiled, so you continued to follow the councilman in charge or guiding you.

“This is the nursery.”

The walls had the same honeycombs as the rest of the hive, but in each one was a crib and a sleeping babe. On the carpeted floor, toddlers waddled and crawled about, playing with toys as they got in their daily exercise.

Almost like a switch had been flipped, their tiny heads turned towards you. The closest baby bee tears up, their tiny, chubby legs struggling to carry them forward as they toddled their way over.

“M-mama!”

Every child within hearing range made their way over, clinging to your legs and fussing as they attempted to crawl up. They held onto your clothing, suckling on any bare skin they could find in an attempt to nurse.

“H-hey, I’m not your-“

The bee hybrid next to you sighed softly. “They won’t listen. You have the scent of their mother now, they want you to hold and feed them.”

Their little eyes were getting red and puffy from crying, they couldn’t understand why their mama wasn’t holding or feeding them.

It was really tugging at your heartstrings. They were just so little, you couldn’t imagine having a baby and how their innocent minds would try to process your death.

“Hey… it’s okay, mama is right here.”

You sat down, letting them climb into your lap and arms. A team of bee hybrids joined you, helping to bottle feed and soothe them.

“Once the eggs in you begin to grow, you’ll start lactating and will be able to feed hordes of the baby bees,” the councilman said, watching how the young ones bonded with you instantly.

“For now, though… you just need to give them your attention and care. They need it.”

As the little ones were laid down for a nap, you were able to sneak out and leave for your next appointment.

“The entire hive knows there is a new queen, gossip gets out fast,” the councilman said as you ate some lunch. Your attendants were playing with your clit, all cooing over how sensitive and hard it was getting under their touch.

There seemed to be no shame with them. You were sitting in the middle of the cafeteria and no one batted an eye as your fat pussy lips were pulled apart so they could lick and fuck your hole with their long tongues.

“However, you’ll still need to make an official appearance in front of the hive… that, and we’ll need to start the breeding ceremony.”

You were having trouble focusing, your fingers tugging on the hair of the bee between your legs. “C-ceremony?”

“Yes, my queen. It is customary for every bee hybrid to take a few days off of work to come and greet the queen. They all get their turns to mate and fill you with some of their own eggs.”

The ceremony began later in the evening. You were brought out before your loyal subjects, dressed in lacy lingerie and placed on a bed.

You felt less like a beloved ruler, and more like a breeding cow being brought out to be sold to the highest bidder.

Every bee bowed before you, dropping to one knee as they waited for you to speak.

“My loyal subjects…”

Just the sound of your voice sent a shiver of excitement through the crowd. You could see them shaking, few already hard and struggling to keep their hands off their pink, throbbing cocks.

“You have all been gathered here for the… breeding ceremony. As thanks for working as hard as you do, you all get a turn to…”

Again, your cheeks began to warm up. You couldn’t believe you were saying this. “… you all get a turn to breed me, your queen. I will take your eggs and incubate them, ensuring your bloodline will continue.”

With that, you laid down. The councilmen ushered forward a group of bee hybrids, and the breeding commenced.

They didn’t want to hurt you, that much was for sure.

Most of the bee hybrids were several feet taller than you, though some stopped at only a few inches above your head. No matter how much they towered over you, their touch was still gentle and hesitant.

None of them had ever touched a human before, much less mated with one. Your body was so sensitive, responding to every nudge and movement of their hands.

One of them sunk their fingers into your cunt, another offering you their cock. You took it into your mouth, causing them to buck their hips.

Your pussy gushed around their fingers.

“S-she’s getting all wet… my queen, is this good for you?”

“Yes, that means she’s excited! You can mate with her now!”

Each cock that entered you was different. Some were short and thick, others thin and long, but a few were both so girthy and long that you felt like you were being split in two.

At one point you were being fucked while jerking off two other bee hybrid and blowing another, trying to please as many as your subjects at once as possible.

The first creampie was almost soothing, the feeling of eggs filling your needy cunt was… mind blowing. You felt so fulfilled, you wanted to be fucked like this forever.

After the tenth bee hybrid though… you were so stuffed full you could barely think. Your tummy was stretched out, looking just about ready to burst.

“Oh, so pretty…” a bee chittered, rubbing your distended belly. “Our queen is doing so well…”

After another five bees had their way with you, the councilmen stepped forward. “That's enough for now, she needs her rest.”

Your attendants were quick to descend upon the bed, buzzing threateningly at every other hybrid that dared to even look at their exhausted queen.

“You truly did do well…” one of them cooed, kissing your temple after they bathed you then tucked you into bed.

“Sleep, you’ll need your rest. Tomorrow will bring even more eggs.”

As you laid down, curled up with a bee hybrid cuddle pile, you couldn’t help but look forward to tomorrow.

You were already becoming an amazing queen… and it had only been a day.

————————

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[danadiadea]

Harry also doesn't know about the story behind Snape and Marauders. He has a very strong positive prejudice with his dad and godfather, and a very strong negative prejudice with Severus. And still he immediately recognizes how fucked up all this is. Yes, he compares it to the bulling he suffered from Dudley and it helps his empathy a lot, but Lily who supposedly hates James (but insists on his version of events before she has a chance to hear her best friend out. i mean we know Snape wouldn't talk about that, but she doesn't yet, and has the audacity to tell him he's ungrateful) and supposedly is/was close to Severus should not encounter the empathy problem? She knows James is a bully even if she haven't seen much of how he treats Severus, because when you study with someone who finds it funny to hex people in the hallways randomly – you would notice that eventually. After all, she says that what makes Marauders different from wannabe Death Eaters is that they don't use Dark Magic; she does call James a bully directly too. I don't understand why Snape being disarmed and choked, on the wand of two bullies, surrounded by a bunch of laughing people, might've been seen as a "fight", regardless of Lily's knowlege about the Prank.

Nothing to add about Lily being just one person, not to mention a teenager with limited life expirence and her own problems, who didn't really want to keep this cracking friendship anymore, but that objectively was not very empathetic of her. I think the scene was written with an intent to not spoil "Snape and Harry's mother were BFFs once" plot twist. Lily only interacts with James, she doesn't even acknowledge Severus before Mudblood. Her protection feels a lot like charity, not really like backing up your friend and helping them to fight back or make it out of the situation; so Severus is dehumanised not only by his bullies, but by Lily too in a way. How she doesn't appear hurt or surprised or even angry after Mudblood, but just insults him impassionately and leaves immediately just adds to this vibe. Not a lot of people would think those two are friends looking at that individual scene, because they don't act like it at all.

Potentially unpopular opinion: Lily should’ve done more to help Severus during the events of Snape’s Worst Memory.

I don’t hate Lily for the choices she made, but had I been in her place, James Potter would have found himself hexed senseless. I’m generally not a violent person. I don’t enjoy conflict, but if you come after me, or someone I care about, you’re asking for a fight.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

The villain couldn’t help but stare at the hero.

They’d gotten thinner, the villain realized.

“Listen...” The villain brushed the hero’s chin with their fingers until they took it altogether. Slowly, they leaned forward, but the weary eyes didn't meet them. “Just let me help. Just let me say the words, let me do the evil monologue and join me.”

The hero brushed the villain’s wrist with their fingers.

“You’re fully aware that I cannot do that.”

“Come on.” The hero shot them a sharp look and for a second, the villain considered retreating. With a groan, the hero leaned against the wall. Ultimately, they sat down, clearly too tired to stand up. “This is eating you. This stupid job, this stupid costume. When was the last week all your bones were intact?”

“It’s not that simple,” the hero argued. They frowned and even that looked like it was draining. The villain tried to, but they didn't understand. They feared they would never be able to fully grasp what the hero was aiming for, nor why they were so adamant.

“It is that simple. Your obsession with justice is ludicrous," the villain said. "You know the law doesn't function as a guide for moral decisions."

"I can't just watch and let people die, can I?" the hero answered. Their fingertips against the villain's wrist were cold and very slowly, it dawned on the villain that they were shaking.

At first, the villain didn't say anything. They simply kneeled to be on the same eye level as their counterpart. Then, they took the hero's face into their hands.

"You also can't blame yourself every time someone dies." The villain leaned in, nearly instinctively, and lowered their voice. "Please, just come back to me."

Their lips brushed the hero's cheek and they closed their eyes, taking their time to concentrate on the proximity and calm down their racing heart. They didn't want to think about the past, they didn't want to think about the endless fights and the many tears. It was all gone now - right now, in this moment, resentment didn't linger.

All that remained was affection.

"Please," the villain begged again. By now, they were hugging their hero, holding them closer than ever before, taking in deep breaths and burying their face in the hero's shoulder. They could feel the hero's hand move; snaking up their back and eventually finding a place in the villain's hair.

It was unbelievably painful to hold the hero like this. It was unbelievably cruel as well. All the things they had thrown at each other before, all the insults and the schemes, all those plans and conflicts...still being able to hold so much love for a person felt specifically dreadful to the villain.

But then again, the hero wasn't simply a person. Once, they had been everything.

"Please come back to me," the villain begged again. "This is killing you. This job, it..."

They felt the tears.

God, they felt the tears. After months of pushing their feelings away and replacing them with rage. After months of suppressing their emotions, they could feel how heavy their heart truly was.

They pulled away, blinking tears out of their eyes, and stared at the hero who had already let their tears roll down their face. The villain brushed them away.

"It is so exhausting," the hero whispered. Their voice was shaking.

"I know."

"And it hurts so much."

"I know, darling."

"But I can't quit, I can't- I mean, there is so much pressure and so many people are counting on me and if I fall, I mean...I'm not a person anymore, I'm a symbol of hope and inspiration and if I...I can't, I just can't-" The hero took in a trembling breath and the villain hugged them again, softer this time.

"Take a break, please. I can't stand this anymore." The villain pressed a kiss to the hero's cheek and slowly, let their fingers intertwine. "I can kidnap you if that makes it easier."

"Yes," the hero said. "For a few days, okay? Just a few days."

Given the hero's physical state, a few days turned into two weeks.

[steviewashere]

I kinda feel like Steve wasn't as popular as he's made out to be. Like, maybe he's got a bit of a reputation that proceeds him—ladies man, The Hair, and Steeevveee Harrington. He takes care of himself, takes care of his dates. The guys around him oversell his personality a lot, how many people he can get in bed with him, the way he can instantly charm a person.

But then you meet him and it's just.

This is the guy you're talking about?

The guy who forgets how to use his tongue sometimes and just does one of those little finger waves? The guy who, if he thinks you're not paying attention to him, will just stand there and make a bunch of goofy faces, lost in thought, muttering song lyrics under his breath? The guy who keeps making the most dorky references to music and movie culture—he quoted something from Star Trek on one of his dates. And the guy who will run into walls when trying to make a swift exit?

Dude is awkward. He is clammy. He is stuttering over his words and trying to cover it up with his pretty smile—which, yeah could be charming, but in his own special streak of charming. Every romantic gesture he pulls is more outlandish, garish, and brash than the last; he is fumbling matches for candles, though, and he is sticking himself in the thumb with the thorns on roses, he is spilling popcorn all over himself on movie dates, and he is tripping on his own feet while trying to carry a girl to his bed upstairs.

Every time a girl kisses his cheek, he's immediately flushing head to toe, smiling all crooked, eyes all soft. He almost forgets to kiss them back.

When he dates Eddie, though? Oh my god.

Eddie flirts with him and Steve literally squeaks. Eddie watches him while Steve is playing basketball, he fumbles the ball and falls onto his knees on the court. Eddie tucks hair behind Steve's ear, Steve is blurting out his entire hair care regime—all because Eddie murmured about how soft it was. Eddie rubs his back while they're cuddled on the couch, Steve gets a boner so fast that he nearly blacks out. Eddie makes them dinner once, tells Steve to just sit down at the table while ushering him out of the kitchen, and Steve is in such a daze of love that he runs into the doorjamb face first and breaks his nose.

When Eddie tells him he loves him? Steve literally screams and has to take a lap before saying it back.

Every time Steve flirts, he has to back track five steps. Every time he compliments Eddie, he has to clarify that it's a compliment because they all come out so aggressively to the point they sound like insults. He tries to quote Shakespeare and, sure it's a love quote, but it's from some incest scene and Eddie laughs before telling him what it really means.

I don't know. Steve just embarrasses himself a lot. Like he definitely has the capacity to sweep somebody off their feet, romance 'em or whatever. But when he's really, really in love with somebody (whether it be after a few dates with a girl, the person he's in love with is Nancy, or even Eddie)? Steve is not chill whatsoever.

Everything that rumors said were just complete lies. You wanna know who started them?

Tommy.

It was Tommy trying to cover for his best friend. Because he saw Steve smile at a girl once, flirt with her, get a date with her. But he had a piece of broccoli stuck between his two front teeth. He couldn't save the interaction even if he tried, Steve was too enamored to quit. The only saving grace Tommy could think of was sell Steve as this handsome, charming, romantic guy—even though the Steve he knew was dorky, a major geek in private, awkward as hell, and funny half the time (his jokes were very hit or miss).

(Also, imagine gay Tommy just trying to reason with himself that his crush—his best friend—is actually not the awkward guy he really is. And maybe he still likes Steve. But Jesus. That piece of broccoli was huge! How did Steve not feel it?)

Anyway. Cringe fail Steve is something very important to me.

[vifilms]

FIND YOUR WINGS, VALENTINE

❝ VI!ONE SHOT ❞

pairing. roommate!vi x femcoded!reader x exsituationship!caitlyn

caitlyn kiramman, a woman who yearned to have her cake and eat it too. violet, a simple girl who has fallen for someone emotionally unavailable and you — trying to disperse between heartbreak and a new love.

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: 17k wc. bartender!reader, melvika cameos, lesbian sex, semi-public sex, mutual finger-off, anal play, shy!vi, caitlyn is a cunt (in this), unfaithful mentality, valentine's day aura?

rayray rambles, chat! we made it. truthfully, this fic got away from in so many ways and i'm proud of myself for reigning it in. this originally was going to be a new years eve fic but it got so impossibly long that i wanted some more time with it. but i hope you enjoy it, this is my latest baby and a lot of love was put into it. happy valentines ♡

— special thank you to my amazing proofreader reader, @meganegatari, plu, i love you dearly.

‪‪and to my love, @sinstear, thank you for always listening to me ramble. happy valentines bubba, ily. even though you've already read 85 percent of this bc i was so excited about it

You could still feel her.

Like it was just last night with her finger buried deep inside, pinning you against your front door with her slender fingers, the soft pad of her fingers stuffed inside your pants, making you see stars. A last ditch effort to keep you around. 

Caitlyn likes to chase but she becomes a bambi in headlights once she’s caught her prey. There was desperation for the last cry, a final effort to keep you around. You’d never seen such a progressive emotion from her. 

Before tonight, every moment; every word said seems transactional. 

The hauntingly blue windows of her soul look anywhere but you. You wonder if it's a tactic. Refusing to make eye contact when she’s most vulnerable. As if one glance at you would cost her the rest of her life, an outcome she can’t afford. 

These days, she’s afraid of her own shadow. Unable to look anyone in the eyes, her spirit crushed like she’s anywhere but here. When you try to pull her back to shore, she recedes even further. 

Nothing is good enough. 

Caitlyn makes it abundantly clear that you aren’t. Insults bite into your skin like a bullet, the blow never to your heart, the place you desperately want it to be. 

But for now, you lick your wounds and you let her have what she wants. Even if she’s fading from your grip, you can still hold her, you can still pretend she loves you the same way, and you can cry after she leaves. You wonder if she sees you for who you really are or if Caitlyn only sees what benefits her. 

It’s a cycle that keeps you here, entangled with a woman who doesn’t have the decency to let you go. If Caitlyn is half the woman you believe her to be, she would have mercifully kicked you out of her apartment. 

Then, there’s Vi.

Nothing with her is serious, not even physical, she just whines and dines you, she holds you like she loves you. Above everything else; Vi makes you forget. Even if it’s with a soft smile, a harmless joke that’s so stupid it makes you giggle — it’s a moment of peace. One you crave more than desolation. 

There’s a softness to her that Caitlyn doesn’t allow. You’re sure that’s why the two didn’t work out. Caitlyn is rough. Kind when she needs something, vengeful when you get in her way but when she seeks retribution for her sins, it’s entirely too late. 

Vi is everything Caitlyn isn’t, what she’s incapable of being — a simmering token of hope you keep close to your chest. 

The more you think about it, the more your stomach twists in knots over your neediness. Entertaining Violet so she can quench your emotional thirst. And keeping Caitlyn around in good faith, a blind faith you place in her, hoping that you’re not wrong. 

You can’t be wrong. 

Somehow she’ll change, right? 

“Why do you have to leave so soon?” Her accent bites into you like an icy river, devoid of emotion as she reveals what she really wants. A silky blue robe untied as her full breasts sit perfectly on her chest. 

Almost as if it’s muscle memory, your thumbs circle over her pink nipples, it buds under your touch and Caitlyn does what she does best. 

She grasps onto the reins of control, refusing to let go. 

With a firm hand, she applies pressure on the back of your neck, beckoning your mouth to find home on her perfect tits and they do. At the moment, you’re her favorite toy and she lets you play.

Plump lips latching on her nipple while your free hand squeezes the other, your tongue flicking over the sensitive nipple as your teeth graze over the sensitive skin, a gasp falling from Caitlyn’s lips. 

“Pretty girl just needs her mouth put to work. Give the other some attention, she’s feeling quite lonely.” 

Doing as you're told, your desperate drool collects on her chest as you bite the swell of her chest, before sucking on her other nipple as if she’s lactating. Then the idea of Caitlyn’s belly swollen makes you whimper, moaning into her skin as she runs a finger up her own slit, your eyes looking up at her as you suck, flick, and bite. 

As if your life depends on it. Maybe it did. 

“Come back to bed, babygirl. I need my perfect little slut. I can fuck you in the shower just the way you like.” 

The ammunition of her poisonous words might as well have penetrate your bloodstream. Displaced trust turns you into another toy for her to use. Trapped perpetually in a cycle you had a hand in enabling. Words full of steam leave a third-degree burn on your skin, not a single drop of blood to be found. 

But even if you want to pull back, you can’t. 

There’s no further arguments as you slip into the lion’s den. With soul-crushing desire, your bare chest presses against the fogged glass, Caitlyn using her favorite dildo as she fucks you into the wall of glass, a dignity you posses withers with each thrust. Perfectly manicured slim fingers pull at your hair as an arch to your back is forced. 

With each thrust she becomes more aggressive, her pace is punishing and it’s meant for you to fall in her hands. But you’re resisting, holding off the orgasm and the high that comes with it. The higher you fall, the harder you crash. You know Kirakiller won’t be there to catch you. 

You’ll burden the fall on your own. 

“Cait, please—” 

The slap of your stretched lips being thoroughly obliterated by her brutal cock can be heard throughout her apartment. She wants to make you come, that’s clear, but she also wants to break you. There’s nothing more a Kiramman loves, hearing you beg for mercy. To have the pathetic and whiny girl who blindly loves her, shattering at her grip. 

“That’s not my name. You fucking know it’s not. Good little sluts say it, don’t they?” 

Before you can even process it, she slaps your ass, three times, sending the orgasm raging through you. All Caitlyn does is fuck your pretty face into the glass as you take every inch of her. Then her pace halts as your heavy breath is heard over the shower. She turns the water off and you’re stuck there, unable to move.

Afraid. 

 Your heart would collapse right with you. 

Caitlyn moves swiftly, like a knight coming in the dead of knight to steal the princess. On all fours, she rummages through the cabinet before locating the precious wand. With a profound smirk, she grips the handle as if it’s an extension of her limb. 

“Looks like you’re getting punished today, babygirl. How do you wanna take it?”  

The lines blur together over the next few hours until you’re stumbling out of the apartment. Caitlyn not directly kicking you out of her home but your stay is only welcome for as long as the fucking window is open. It’s nearly three hours past midnight, tears in your eyes as you tread home with a gaping hole punctured with her sharpest end of her carefully placed blade. 

You wonder if she’s always been like this. Hot and hungry for power, ready to hurt anyone in order to get it. The angry flesh begs to be fed, and she gives in each time. Even when it means she sees the love depleted from your eyes, or when you refuse to make eye contact, or like tonight when she watches you hold in tears to escape out of her apartment. 

Some nights, you did want to be handled with a gentle hand but it’s not something Caitlyn gives. 

Anything more than a generous hand and greedy lips begging to lap at your cunt and Caitlyn comes up short. Living up to her name to the fullest. 

Kirakiller, they called her. 

There’s a dozen reasons for her name. How she slaughters everyone on the pitch,  academically she’ll make you feel inferior to her own privileged, private education prior to university. How she kills your spirit if you aren’t someone she sees as an exceptional academic student for Piltover University. 

All of it seems to be a game for her. With Cassandra Kiramman as the dean, the board members sit heavily in her overflowing pocket, she runs things as she sees fit. Her daughter being taken care of and on top of the world is her number one priority. There’s been a dozen to come after the Kiramman’s and none have been successful. Murmurs of corruption grace the hallowed halls but not a soul dares to challenge the wealth and power of the prestigious bloodline of the Kirammans.  

Caitlyn “Kirakiller” Kiramman associating with someone who was merely on scholarship wasn't in Cassandra’s plans. Even if you didn’t even know it yet, you were too low on the totem pole to be associated with the future of a daunting legacy. An entire life laid out for Cait before she even took her first breath. 

It was dumb to buzz her up to the apartment. Even more idiotic to respond to her texts in the first place but besides all her failed attempts, she still tries to worm her way through your heart to take what she believes is owed. Just like last week, you let her. 

She leaves when you pretend to fall asleep after, the two of you telling yourselves it’ll be the last time, but it won’t be. 

It’s a vicious cycle, one has your insides spinning, your stomach churning and your heart aching. But you’re too weak to end. It’s a tale as old as time. You want something more and Caitlyn can’t be bothered to be committed to the wrong type of girl. 

It’s all about appearances and you’re not good enough. 

Cassandra, the respectable dean and the mother who is the puppeteer of her daughter’s life, behind the scenes pulling the strings in order to maintain image, status. She holds it closer than her own blood; a need for her bloodline to prosper and Dean Kiramman will trample anyone’s heart to complete the task. 

Whether she wants to fight against her mother’s future or not? You didn’t know. 

Truly, you never know what she wants, besides getting herself off or getting you off, Caitlyn was stuck between a world she’s born for and one that’s decided for her. A child acting out but waiting until college to do so. 

Kirakiller. 

That’s what they called her. Ruthless in all of her conquests, never calling back, never fucking the same girl again, it wasn’t something Kirakiller did. She used, abused, and moved onto the next one. 

But for some reason, she’s incredibly stuck on you. 

The new year puts you at a distance when Cait refuses to bring you home for the holidays. Of course, the fight rages as soon as she’s done fucking you. 

“What do you think this is?” 

“You tell me.” 

There’s a look in your eyes, gleaming and sorrowful, the rejection crystal clear. That’s all any of this has been. A severe procrastination tactic to put off what you want, her. 

What makes it worse is Caitlyn knows it but she’s still here, trying, and who the hell knows why. 

Hope. A poor woman’s faith guts you, ripping your insides of love and prosperity. In your line of vision, you just see claws tearing at your skin, all flesh raw and bleeding as she begs for more. 

A wish that you hope for every time you see her. This time she’ll choose differently, she’ll be kind this time. I’ll be enough to love. This will be the moment. 

But when she doesn’t, the accent you love so much burns you at the stake, you’re screaming on deaf ears. Begging for her to hear just one, but she snuffs you out. Like the moonlight you bring, she pretends you don’t call to her like the moon pulls the tide. 

Instead, you’re met with Caitlyn’s greed. 

“Why do I think this is? I expect some basic level of human compassion but you’ve forgotten that too. I’ve always given you the benefit of the doubt. Even when everyone tells me you’re fucking other girls besides me, even when I see with my own eyes how you act when you think I’m not around. You clearly don’t respect me. Every time I’ve tried to have this conversation, you avoid me. Do you think I deserve that?” 

“There is nothing to even discuss. This is nothing.” Her accent is sharp, cutting right through your heart. A woman you love too deeply reaffirming how little she thinks of you. 

Dismissal. 

Absence. 

You are nothing, might as well have fallen from her lips. 

Her heart is ice cold,  her piercing eyes bite like the bitter wind of winter. A slim view of fire rattling within her dark blue eyes, pupils dilate so much they practically turn black. 

You feel your stomach tense, the pit in your stomach has once returned, denying you of what feels so real to you. 

It’s just a game for her. 

Always a game Caitlyn has to win. 

“Fine. Then leave. But don’t come back next time, don’t text me when you’re lonely or horny, don’t call me when everyone else won’t hear you out. Forgot about me and let’s be done with it, yeah? Go back to those girls you love to fuck so much. The ones that are bright, shiny, untouched by your venomous heart.” 

“I will. They sure will be a hell of a lot better lay than you, maybe they’ll let me fuck their ass.” 

You scoff but your expression is stone cold as you watch her struggle to pull her clothes on. There’s no sudden movements made. Certainly no apologies. 

Once Caitlyn fully dresses, she waits there as if you’ll change your mind. A wish she’s so desperately hanging onto as your eyes remain cold. A shiver is sent up her spine — you’d never been more ruthless — and for the first time her chest feels tight at the loss of you. 

“It’s what you want. A pretty rich thing your mother will accept and the control in the bedroom you need since the real Kiramman controls every aspect of your life, even your love life. Good luck, you’ll need it.” 

“You’ll come begging back, you always do.” 

You want to choke Caitlyn with the smirk she’s currently wearing. 

“We’ll see about that, Kirakiller. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out.” 

In an instant her face drops, her acute lips turning into a frown, cursing under her breath before she finally slams the door. It’s only then do you allow yourself to scream into your pillow, agony coursing through you, desperation, and most of all — a rage that wouldn’t be quenched. 

—

The fairy lights, softly winking at you each time the sequence goes off. Violet craved to put them up around Christmas but never bothered to take them down. Perfectly, they fit with your shared home. The small apartment stuck between the suburbs and the city, close enough to campus where it was only a short drive, the two of you carpooling or Vi moving her schedule around to drop you off. 

It happened to work out for the two of you. You didn’t think you’d get to be so lucky. Finding a decent roommate is a tall order, but now the two of you are inseparable and you couldn’t imagine your life any different. 

If not for her, you didn’t think you'd survive spending the holidays alone. 

Caitlyn made sure to isolate you but Violet holds you close.  

The memory of new years solidifies the budding infatuation growing within you; as much as it excites you, it sends a freezing shiver down your spine. Like a bitter winter to an evergreen bush, who knows if it’ll last the season without one moment to be basked in the sun. 

— 

New Years Eve, 2024. 

Sevika nursing an old fashioned. Trying to avoid the smell of cheap corona and budweiser intruding her relaxed nostrils as Mel sips on a glass of wine. Her smaller frame leans into Sevika’s arm looped through hers as their hips nearly become conjoined. They watch as Violet watches you. You’re standing there alone, fending off a few women who try to make a move on you. 

Whispers of your former fling, Caitlyn Kiramman make their way across campus, the colossal cunt raging her anger during practice. Just as you’ve been reminded by her teammates who blame you for her toddler tantrum. Violet’s heart sinks to her chest as she watches Caitlyn make a straight shot for you. 

The second she entered the room, Violet could feel the dread filling her body. Half because seeing her reminds her of all the horrors, everything she let Caitlyn do to her. Now, Caitlyn’s moved on to her next victim and she wonders if you’ll ever truly escape from her. 

“Do you think we should–” Vi speaks softly, a murmur she didn’t intend for anyone else to hear. “...interrupt?” 

“Calm down, casanova.” Sev interjects letting the whiskey soothe her throat. 

“Easy for you to say, coupled up love birds.” Vi rolls her eyes as she watches the scene unfold before her. 

The light in her eyes cracks, like a sparkler losing its flame. Each time Caitlyn attempts to worm back in your life, you’ve always let her. Even when she’s the last person who deserves even a moment of your time. It takes anything in her not to wince when you let Caitlyn touch your arm but after a moment you push her off. 

Well, that’s new. 

“You should go over there.” Mel chimes in, “Caitlyn would surely run for the hills then. She’s all bark but no bite.” 

“Go be her knight in shining armor.” Sev says it like it’s a bad thing, her sarcasm biting into the air. 

All Vi continues to scratch away at the label unraveling from the condensation, just as her heart rips each time Caitlyn gets closer to you. It’s a strange feeling. Her ex-girlfriend and the person she loves. Nearly spiteful her heart becomes, almost wanting to fling herself off a bridge. It’s more than Vi wishes to deal with and she tells herself she won’t. 

You’re not worth the trouble, she’s just making her feelings bigger than they actually are, right? 

Whatever Caitlyn says pisses you off enough to throw your drink in her face, coating her from hot to toe in the vodka cranberry Vi had made for you earlier in the night. 

“You’ll eat those actions, babygirl. Next time, it’ll be you who is soaked and we both know it.” 

Caitlyn screams for all to hear as she checks you with her shoulder before heading upstairs. 

It’s five minutes before midnight and Violet watches as you crumble, running outside, needing to catch some air. You need something to make you feel less suffocated. Even with a drink thrown in her face, Caitlyn still finds a way to get an upper hand. 

“Vi, would you be a dear and check on her? Sev and I will be there in a sec.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Violet sees you in the corner of her eye, trying not to break down, but she notices the tears threatening to spill. 

“Don’t look so glum princess or you’re going to make me cry and nobody wants to see that.”  The lightness of her tone makes you chuckle. Vi’s trying to make you laugh and she succeeds. 

Everyone pours outside as the clock strikes closer to midnight, Mel and Sevika come out but they keep their distance. Vi kneels at your feet, gently wiping the tears away you finally let fall. The small hiccups leaving your chest as you feel inadequate, wondering if anyone would miss you if you just melted away — not a single trace of you to be found. 

“She makes me feel so small, even when I leave, she wants more of me. I have nothing left to give.” You sob, hands shaking as you make fists trying to stabilize yourself. “No one understands how…how fucking awful and addicting she is.” 

“I do.” 

“Of course you, Violet. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. She’s just…” 

“Frustrating?” You nod, trying to laugh off the heartbreak but the familiar glee doesn’t reach your eyes. 

“And now I’m alone, on new years.” You say, cursing at the premature fireworks illuminating the sky. “While she goes to shag whoever wants to clean the vodka cranberry with their tongue.” 

I want to taste the cranberry on yours. 

Violet doesn’t speak those words. It’s just a dream — one that only drips in her mind until her thoughts pull at her like a pomegranate as it sheds from the skin. 

“She’s an idiot for letting you go. Anyone here knows that.” 

“Really? Funny ‘cause I’m here single. Caitlyn just wants me to crawl back to her with me on all fours just so she can say, i told you so, in that insufferable English accent. God, I wanna rip it from her throat.” 

“Then don’t give her the satisfaction.” 

“Easier said than done.” You say as everyone counts down from ten, “At least we still have each other.” 

Vi smiles, her powder-blue eyes sweet on you. There’s nothing more she wants than to kiss you. But Vi will screw the both of you if she moves too quickly. 

3…2…1! 

The buzz of the party reaches an all-time high and you’ve never felt so close to hell. Watching as everyone kisses the person they love, the gleeful-holiday making them smile as they wrap in the warmth of their partner. Vi sees how sad you are, how close you are to breaking, so she does something stupid. An action that will only get her heart in all kinds of trouble. 

Nearly almost planting her lips on yours, but saves herself with a peck to the apple of your cheeks. 

She blushes and you smile. 

She considers it to be a win when she gets a positive reaction from you. That’s all she really wants, to hear you laugh and you do. 

Again. 

The both of you speak nothing of it, the heartache too heavy and the love in Violet’s eyes too bright. You rest your head against her shoulder as the both of you watch the fireworks shining the midnight sky — it feels awfully like a fresh start. 

God knows you could use one. 

— 

The last thing you want is to miss her but you do. 

Longing instilled the moment she infected your blood; making each beat of your heart consistently flow for her. You couldn’t admit it, not her or yourself. It’s what she counts on. For you to slip, to venture back into the lion’s just so she can gut you from root to stem. 

With your finger hovering over her number for the past few weeks, each time, nearly a moment from giving back into her needs. Not once had she called, texted, or even looked at your way. Not even when she sat across from you in the library last Monday. Before her tongue found home in the girl who threw herself in Caitlyn’s lap. Promptly deciding that was enough studying for the day. 

The nights are the worst, you stay secluded in your room, tired of thinking about her and everything that’s transpired. How much you miss her, how much you love her — wondering if you ever should have — and how much you clung to this version of her that maybe just never existed. 

It isn’t until Vi tries to get you out of the house that you realize how heartbroken you actually feel. How unbearable it would be to do anything but the bare minimum that’s expected for you to survive. 

“C’mon, it won’t be bad.” Vi throws herself in bed with you, “You’re with me you’ll have a fantastic time.” 

Vi cheekily smiles, “Plus, I can’t go without you. Those are the rules.” 

“Oh really?” She nods, the sincerity reaching her eyes so blindingly, it makes the swell in your chest ache. 

“Basically the law, so if you don’t want me to handcuff you, you’ll listen.” 

Raising an eyebrow at the question, you watch her as your roommate goes into the closet and comes out with three dresses back in hand. 

“You always look, um u-uh, really pretty in these.” 

Violet’s always been like this. Unsure, a little bit flirty, and with a heart so gentle you would be too afraid to hold it in the palm of your hand. All it took was one introduction from Sevika and the two of you instantly clicked. 

You cooked at the housewarming party for Mel and Sevika, in the middle of having a breakdown when you didn’t have crucial ingredients you thought you did have. It’s when Violet came to your rescue. Already in the kitchen watching you nearly have a panic attack over not being better prepared, she instantly grabbed the keys to her truck, off to assist. 

With your former roommate flaking out after the second semester in your apartment off campus, and Violet coming off a messy breakup, the two of you helped each other out. 

“Which one is your favorite?” It’s an innocent question. 

It really is. 

Then you remember the last time you wore it, Violet unable to keep her eyes off you when she thought you weren’t looking or how she would meet your eyes when you caught her staring. Dramatically clearing her throat as she scratches the nape of her neck, bashfully blushing. 

“The black one. You always look beautiful, any of them really. That one is just my favorite.” 

Feeling the fabric of the silk dress, the neckline is plunging and the back is open until it reaches your lower back and you don't dare bend down to pick up anything in this little number. 

“Someone’s being sweet tonight.” You smile softly, kissing her cheek before you disappear into the bathroom. It’s long before you come out, but when you’re ready Vi nearly has to do a double take. 

Visibly, she gulps. 

Fuck, she forgot how amazing you look in that dress. 

“Where’s it at this time?” 

“You remember Natalie?” 

“Oh?” 

“It’s not—” 

“I didn’t say it was.” But you’re smirking and Vi has no other option but to groan into her hands. 

“You were thinking about it.” Harmlessly, you shrug. 

“Regardless, it’s some new girl who’s gonna be on the team this season. It’s kind of a get together before the season starts.” 

“You’re taking me to the kick-off banquet?” Vi winces as your voice shrieks, slightly piercing her eardrum in the process. 

“Uh,” Vi runs a hand through her vibrant, messy head of hair. “Uh, yeah. It’s really not a big deal.” 

“So, why not Natalie?” 

“Does it matter?” Vi counters. She becomes uncomfortable about how she would have to answer the question. There wasn’t a way for her to answer without fully exposing herself so she pulls at her cuticles until she’s slightly bleeding before she stuffs them inside her pockets. 

She doesn't want to have the conversation, and honestly, neither do you. 

“The she-devil won’t be there. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? One night for yourself, there’s a little dancing, we can have a couple of drinks—” 

“Y-You’ll dance with me…in front of everyone?” You sound more unsure of yourself than you ever have. The words are foreign on your tongue as if you’re speaking another language. 

“Is that a statement or a question?” Vi chuckles before she stands up from your bed, “Give me ten minutes and we’ll head out. We can stop and get some burgers. The food they cater is ass anyways. All that money from the snobby rich parents and Piltover University can’t even splurge on anything decent.” 

It doesn’t take long before she’s emerging into the living room, her white button up has the top three buttons undone, the tattoos creeping on the outside of her neck visible as does her name she has on her cheek. The one you chastise her for consistently. 

“You ready?” Violet stuffs her essentials in her deep pockets before taking you in. 

“Yeah, I think so, I was just waiting for you.” 

She seriously has to assume your exes are severely ill for ever letting you out of their sight. Violet despises how rapid the beat of her heart is, how shaky her hands become when she offers a hand to help you off the couch. Only two nights ago, it was the two of you cuddled up, Vi shrieking in fear from your favorite horror film. 

The terror in her powder-blue eyes made you laugh. Violet sees it as a big enough consolation for her downright distress. 

You’re too gorgeous for your own good. 

She may be pushing her luck tonight. Even pulling you out of bed makes her feel slightly accomplished. Between work and class, your mattress has been your chosen place to nurse your heartache. A few of your friends had been in and out, trying to get you to grab a fresh breath of air, or find the bottom of a bottle of tequila but all had failed. 

“You look….” You bite your lip, watching as your eyes drag over her frame, overwhelmed by just how well she cleans up. 

“That bad, huh?” Violet smirks as she makes her way over to you, and with your heels, she can’t help but admire your height. She supposes she does have a type. Who can blame her? 

“Something like that.” Your face is burning, the world doesn’t seem so bleak when she locks the door with one hand, her left warm-calloused hand holding yours in a firm grip. 

“How do I look?” You do a twirl, there’s a smile you try to contain when her eyes drag over you, taking all the time in the world as open the door to her truck, guiding you inside. 

“You look beautiful but that’s no surprise, princess.” 

The drive is quiet. Violet itches to place the palm of her hand on your thigh but she resists. With a quiet mind, she listens as you ramble about a new album you listened to earlier and she hands you her phone so you can play it. Immediately, you’re bewildered at the trust. 

Caitlyn wouldn’t even let you use her phone when yours died. Ordering the uber herself as she left you on the curb as she took her sports car and faded into the intersecting street. 

It’s only a twenty minute drive to the diner and the red neon sign greets you, the outside wall painted in a pastel-yellow, it’s gaudy and nearly unpleasant to the eye but there’s the charm about it. Zaun outlasted the gentrification of the corporate pollution, still one of the only places to remain standing and family owned. 

You’re led to a booth where you both take a seat, glancing over the menu as you decide what you want, trying to make a decision in your mind is something that drowns you like a misty fog at the crack of dawn. 

Finally you settle on a burger and so Violet. The conversation is easy with her. Everything seems to flow with a simpleness you find yourself reaching for. Like the last copy of your favorite book at the library, you crave to wrap your fingers around the crispy edges, sinking your smell into the spine of a new novel. Where the beginning feels like a first kiss — blissful notions of someone new — when the thought of love doesn’t seem so jarring. 

Before you’re terrified of getting your heart shattered into a million pieces. Before love morphs into something violent, you turn to Violet and you wonder if she’s ever been scared to love. Does it come easy for her? Would she let herself go for the right person? You feel too broken to ever let yourself fall that freely again. 

But she has blue eyes, a scar on her upper lip making her more charming, and tattoos adorning her back that only attribute to the surface level of her allure.  

Shortly after you sink into your thoughts, ones you don’t believe you should even have, you're ravaging your burger when Violet notices the attention you're getting. It’s obvious. To everyone. But you just talk to her about anything but the elephant in the room, you’re so chatty tonight she might even think you’re nervous. 

But it’s Vi. There’s nothing to ever be nervous about. 

Nothing at all. 

“God, this was such a good call. Who knew I needed to bury my sorrows in a pound of grease.” 

“Carbs. They are a beautiful thing.” Vi winks, you chunk a fry at her but she catches it in her mouth. 

You finish your food in silence, Vi smiling as she takes another sip from the cane-sugar coca cola. The sweetness of the syrup  coats the back of her throat as she watches you watch her. She wants to say something but the timing is wrong. She wonders if you see a future or a rebound, maybe even just a friend, only time can tell and Vi fears she would wait a lifetime waiting for you to figure it out. 

It’s how she loves. Free, without restrictions, even if she still mourns the love she once had burned to flames — you make her forget it all. Renewed in holy water, she basks in a touch that hasn’t scorned her, freely washing her of past sins.  

“What happened to Natalie? I thought things were good.” 

“For a time, yeah.” Violet says something without saying much. 

“Vi, are you being coy?” 

The blush coats her cheeks as she tries to shy away from the conversation. She feels the heat from your attention, the way her heart beats a million times per second as you have her cornered. Different in a way she would typically imagine when you came to mind. Even if she does try to stop herself, Vi can’t help but wonder about you and if you would feel the same way she does. 

If you do and just aren’t allowing yourself to let go of the wall you have up in the horrendous shape of Caitlyn Kiramman.  

The way you pry, your bold eyes slightly squinting at her as if you’re already figuring out the self-righteousness of the sinner. Secrets she hides under lock and key but even on a good day, the confession bubbles on her tongue as she catches herself choking on her own spit. You’re always so careful of the questions you leave hanging in the air. 

In a moment of frustration, Violet thinks of how Caitlyn’s manipulative patterns may have sinked into your brain. She knows that much — the blue-haired witch has done the same to her. Making you question everyone’s motives, wondering if anyone could ever be truthful. 

But others can. 

Caitlyn can’t. 

Vi distracts herself, avoids the question even if it is just a second to recollect her thoughts, a minute to buy time and divert from this conversation. It’s a truth she doesn't want unraveled. 

“What’s the saying? Don’t kiss and tell.” She grumbles as she stuffs her face with another bite of the beefy patty. “But we just didn’t work out s’all. Plus, I’m not looking for anything serious I guess. She was.” 

Another lie but Vi keeps her lips tight. She doesn’t need you to know why her latest attempt at a relationship blew up in her face, catastrophically. 

“Maybe you and Kirakiller should date again.” You tease. 

“Take that back. She’s the devil’s spawn and I’m still sorry you learned the difficult way. Just like me.” 

“Well, she definitely lives up to the name.” 

“I wish she would have changed her ways. You didn’t deserve to get hurt at all and especially by her.” Violet reaches across the table, soothing the back of your hand, rubbing circles into your skin. The action is sweet, lighting your skin ablaze with goosebumps as you watch her show affection, especially where other people can see. 

At the moment, you want to be claimed by her. Marked as Violet’s girl and you would be proud to be. You close the thought from your mind as soon as it opens. This isn’t a date. Just because Violet flirts doesn’t mean she’s interested. The two of you are roommates. 

Pull yourself together. 

Jesus Christ. 

She knows how much everyone can’t stop looking at you. The diner, outside the gas station even when Vi told you to stay in the car, and then the banquet. But you latched onto her, practically glued to her side as new sponsors came to speak with the new head captain. Vi’s nursing a beer when the music hits and she grins. 

“Are you ready for this?” 

What is she talking about? 

Vi latches her hand with yours as she pulls you to the open floor, only a few couples begin to lightly sway to the classical being played. It’s different from what she was used to but she was nothing if not resourceful. 

“I don’t bluff, princess, and I certainly don’t lie.” Vi tugs you close as you make no arguments, she leads as you find shining faith in her eyes. 

It’s a new feeling, unfamiliar as it courses through your body. Vi isn't ashamed of you, as a friend, as a roommate; she’s full of warmth when she glances at you. Sending a sense of belonging through your skin, a home you want to throw yourself in before the foundation has even been laid. 

Violet’s too good at this. You secretly love it but you pretend like you hate it. As if getting attention from someone as kind and hot as her is a bad thing. It’s nearly too much, almost making you sick with how much you’re enjoying being held by someone who actually wants to hold you. 

She’s not playing chess and using you as a pawn. 

It’s a recurring thought you have to remind yourself of, she’s not Caitlyn. 

Violet doesn’t make promises she doesn’t keep, she doesn’t say careless compliments to only have sex with you. With a firm palm on your back, calluses kissing your spine, she’s looking at you — so much so it feels as if she’s looking right through you. 

 “You don’t have to—” She twirls you around before you can protest, guiding you back into her gentle care. 

Vi shrugs, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me princess but I’d never go back on my word.” 

The other couples start to move on the dance floor as each song blends into the next. 

“That’s refreshing.” 

Violet hand placed on your exposed back feels so warm it nearly burns her skin. Leaning in, leaning her head against yours. You smell of vanilla and something else entirely too sweet, maybe jasmine or fresh lilies. The delicate breath kissing your neck feels tempting. You would never consider yourself to be a siren, but with each promise laced up in your tongue, you wish to serenade her into a future with you. 

“So are you, sweetheart.” Violet pulls away just enough to look at you, her temple presses against yours. 

You can hear the shake in her breath, her grip around her back tightening like she’s trying to restrain herself. But she doesn’t restrain, she leans in, the tip of her pierced nose kissing yours. If either of you moved an inch forward, your lips could taste hers. 

Is her chapstick cherry, strawberry, or maybe even blueberry? They look irresistible as the glisten, you need to crave the ache deriving from your bones. Violet has itched herself into every part of your life and she’s the only one to make you feel a sliver of joy again. 

“We should…” The dazed woman doesn’t even know what she’s pleading for. This is all she’s been wanting but somehow her heart is pulling away, terrified to be crushed under the unforgiving weight of rejection. 

“Yeah.” You say. Somehow understanding what she wishes for, silently you’re able to see her exposed skin, raw to the notion of a love dying to bloom in the beginning of spring. 

Violet kisses your cheek again and somehow you feel the warmth of the fresh season. In the February rain, there is still sunshine spilling over the clouds — washing you in hope again. 

— 

The rest of your life fell back in place as if she never existed, except the ache in your heart that wouldn’t stop. You did your best to ignore it. Word got around Caitlyn went back to fiercely fucking. Apparently instead of sleeping just once a week while she was with you, she went back to her ever-growing appetite, nearly every night. It isn’t too difficult for her; not when there’s a line of women waiting to be at her beck and call. 

You threw yourself into your studies, picking more shifts at the bar and hoping she doesn’t pull any of her usual stunts, showing up drunk and begging to fuck. 

One more time, baby. This could be good for the both of us. 

Caitlyn uprooted the past semester of uni and she didn’t even have the decency to apologize. All your friends with a knowing look of — I told you so — without actually dispersing the words from their tongue. It feels too much like a blurry dream but Sevika is good at making you smile. Even if you wanna throw yourself against a wall until the memory of Kirakiller fades for good. 

The night had been busier than expected but nothing you and Sevika couldn’t handle. Even if there’s an ache in your knees, the muscles in your shoulders strained, it feels nice to just work. Everything flees your mind, all the insecurities bubbling inside you escaping to get out. The emotions you’re attempting to keep at bay and failing. 

“You good, kid?” 

“Yeah, life’s just a shit fire. Nothing new.” 

Continuing to wipe the bar down for new customers, you clean off some glasses in front of you, as you dry your hands on a clean towel before tending to the other side of the bar. 

The rest of the night comes to you in a blur. You’re flirty enough with the men to ensure a nice tip but when one tries to get too handsy, you tell them to fuck off or Sevika will throw them out. They eye up her frame as she makes her way over, height hitting at over six feet, her muscles visible through the fitted black tank she chose tonight. If you didn’t know any better, she would terrify you. 

“Got a problem here?” 

“I’m not sure, what about you boys? Do you think there’s an issue?” 

With a quick shake to their heads, they take a nervous sip of their beer and the rest of the night goes along swimmingly. It’s last call when you spot the familiar pink-haired roommate, nursing her second bottle of beer it seems. 

“How long has she been here?” 

“Came during the rush for you, but didn’t wanna bother you. She’s been waiting for a few hours.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your tone goes high and squirrelly, murderous eyes finding her glimmering, silver eyes. 

“Well, it's only Vi, right?” Sevika smirks. 

That itself was a loaded question. If you’d been asked six months ago, it would have been a flat friend but now Vi had somehow turned into a friend. The almost-kiss you’ve been having dreams about. How she would kiss you — would it be tender — or would she be depraved about it in a way that would have you bruising your knees at the speed of lighting. 

“Stop that. Vi is as harmless as a puppy.” 

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” 

“Wasn’t Kirakiller here last month waiting for you and you didn’t bat an eye? Plus, the only thing she seems to be jealous of is Vi. The diva had a meltdown when she saw Vi picking you up after the end of your shift last week, or that’s just what I heard.” 

“Mel needs to stop telling you so much.” 

“Pillow talk. It’s a beautiful thing. Isn’t it?” 

Rolling your eyes, you throw your apron at her, collecting your tips for the night. Vi still looks innocent as ever, Gert making friendly conversation with her as you just watch her. Her thick, wool beanie matches her hair and you can’t help but think of how cute she looks. Her fingerless gloves you always chastise her about, doing very little to keep her warm. 

You knew she had a date tonight. Hell, it makes you nervous why she’s even here. Racking your brain with some excuse to get you out of this. What’s so important she couldn’t wait until you got home? She waits up for you every night. Doesn’t let herself fall asleep until she hears the familiar jingle of your keys outside the door. Pretending to read the book in her hands like she’s casually perched on the couch at three in the morning for any other reason. 

“Well, she’s one of the good ones and I’m not.” 

You’re frustrated as you split the tips, handing Sevika her half. Things with Vi had been more than complicated. You weren’t sure if you were over Caitlyn but you also knew things with Vi were getting closer to an edge you couldn’t come back from.

The flashbacks of the banquet you attended as her plus one just a few weeks ago haunt you. Her lips so close to yours, the hitch in her breath and whimper you let out that stopped it all. 

You would be an idiot to ruin the best friend you’ve ever had. A deep secret buried in your mind tells you how much of a bigger idiot you would be if you let her slip right through your fingers. 

“Doesn’t matter if you are or not. She sees something in you. Count yourself lucky. Oh, and before you head off Mel wants to invite you over for Valentine’s. Some big party she’s throwing. You know how she is. Be there or she’ll come and find you if you resist.” 

The wink Sevika sends you is insufferable. Similar to her attitude this entire night. 

“Yeah yeah, tell Mel I’ll be there.” 

“Now that’s the loving spirit, lovergirl.” 

You make your way over and Gert’s hand is touching Vi’s forearm, a look in your eyes that sends an annoying pit to your stomach. Gert’s eyes flutter and her smirk is evident but Vi only gulps when you make your way over. 

Gert may just take your attitude for tiredness but Vi knows better. Your two seconds from blowing up the way your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding as you fight to act like a complete and utter cunt. Vi’s a very pretty girl. Women flirt with her all the time. It’s not anything you didn’t know but to see it up and close was new for you. 

As was the jealousy practically sprouting out of you. 

“Well call me, yeah?” Gert’s eyes sparkle, dodging you entirely as she walks away and into the back. 

Violet gulps as it’s just the two of you. 

“Why are you here?” You snip, arms crossed over your chest, unknowingly making your cleavage even more apparent. “Sev says you’ve been here for hours.” 

“I came to see you but you looked busy.” 

“Mhm, yeah. Busy. You look awfully busy.” 

“Don’t do that.” 

But you ignore her. 

You rolled your eyes, the irritation raging within you. Fucking Gert. You drunkenly told her about your confusing feelings for Vi and she took that as Vi's single. It’s slim pickings out there but fuck, did Vi have to entertain it right in front you? 

But you didn’t like to think about how she did. You weren’t dating, you weren’t fucking, you essentially were just roommates who cuddled sometimes, or went on these almost dates with and almost kissed. 

Vi hasn't been dating since Natalie but she’s free to do as she pleases. It’s a colossal hit to your pride but you can’t be mad. You are, but you can’t be. 

You really cannot be doing this. 

Vi is just a friend. Only a friend. That’s it.  

“I’m going but Gert will be off soon. Goodnight, Vi.” 

It’s short and not so sweet. Swiftly turning around as you are practically running out the door. The chill of February hits you first and then you hear Vi and her voice calling after you but you just keep walking. Hoping she’ll give up and go back. You’re a lost cause, anyone with eyes can see it. 

“Would you stop running away?” You turn around and Vi is so close that she runs into you, her arms wrapping around your waist to stop you from falling. “Jesus, are you insane? It’s fucking freezing out here. I don’t care if you’re mad right now, I’m driving us home.” 

“Violet, let me—” 

“No. You’re not getting sick. It’s past midnight. It’s not safe. We are not arguing about this.” You pout as she holds your hand and practically drags you back to her black truck. Opening the door for you as you get in, shutting the door once you’re situated before she gets in on the other side. 

Igniting the engine, it revs on and while the car warms up Vi sighs, rather loudly. She’s always good about waiting until she calms down to speak. Letting the anger roll off her, the frustration you’re sure was caused by you. She slides the beanie off her head as the car reaches a normal temperature and runs her fingers through beautiful pink strands being kissed by the light of the moon. 

The natural fluff to the strands is restored, no longer inflated by the beanie you had embroidered her full name on. You can’t keep your eyes off of her. She must feel it because Vi catches your gaze and instantly her eyes go soft. It’s too much so you turn your eyes away; focusing on the snow falling on the windshield. 

“What’s going on? I’ve been patient for weeks but something changed and you’re not telling me.” 

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.” 

“The truth would be a good place to start.” 

Vi sighs, again, when you’re silent. No smartass rebuttal, no snide remark, not even an exasperated curse underneath your breath. Complete and utter silence.

But you feel trapped.

You’re terrified. Vi is too warm, loving, and painfully-pure. She might not know it, but she’s the girl you come back for. The one who you bring home to meet the family, the one who will bring you breakfast in bed when you feel under the weather and the one who will make sure you feel loved every single day. 

When other people figure that out, if Gert does, it’s over for you. Because maybe it was foolish, pathetic, and possibly tragic but you were just trying to sort yourself out long enough to see if you want those things with her. Now, it’s only a matter of time before she dotes on someone else who can give her everything she deserves. 

You should let her have this, it’s far better than her pleading eyes begging for something you’re not sure you can give. Caitlyn broke pieces you're not sure are repairable, parts of yourself that can’t be put back together. You didn’t even realize you had been crying until Vi’s wiping away your tears. 

The pad of her thumb is careful as she wipes all the tears away. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, princess. It’s just you and me.” 

“I-I can’t. It’s too…I just can’t.” You confess, sniffling as you try and calm yourself down. 

Vi guides you into the crook of neck as she does her best to hold you over the middle console of her truck. “It’s okay, princess. Shh, I’m right here.” It’s then that your sobs wrack your body and Vi decides she needs you as close as possible. Using her strength, she brings you into her lap, wrapping her tight arms around you as you sob into her neck. Salty tears stain Vi’s neck but she really doesn’t care. 

All she cares about is you. 

“It’s about Kiramman, isn't it?” 

Vi can’t hide her disdain for the woman. That much is clear as day. Whatever happened with the two of them burned deep. 

“Maybe murder isn’t such a bad thing.” 

“Vi.” You chuckle half heartedly. 

“There’s that smile..” You lift your head from the safety of her warmth, pressing your forehead against hers. Your breath is heavy on her lips, staring at the beautiful scar, the plumpness to her lips practically staring right at you. Close enough to see the constellations of freckles littered across her full cheeks. 

Your timing is awful but your heart gives into Violet’s gaze, lips falling closer together to hers. 

“Don’t make it like this.” Vi whispers, her powder-blue eyes gleaming at you. 

“What?” 

“Don’t kiss me for the first time because you’re sad about her. I can’t be her runner up. I’ve been playing that for too long.” 

“I won’t kiss you, not if you don’t want me to.” 

The tears are still fresh, but this need churning within you isn’t. Since the moment you met Vi, you’ve been fighting it. Fighting this. 

“Fuck, I do but,” Vi stalls when you unzip her leather jacket, revealing her wrapped chest, abs on display. “Shit, princess.” 

Fingers playing with the button of her trousers, waiting for her to push you away but she doesn’t. She does nothing of the sort. Vi’s breath is heavier than you’ve ever heard it. Looking down at your hands, waiting for you to pull the trigger on all of this. It’s then you realize Vi is letting you have all the control. If this is going to happen, she wants you to take it. It’s different from what you’re used to. 

A choice. 

It’s more than you could have expected. Vi isn’t pushing you away, isn’t telling you to stop. Not when you unbutton her pants and not when you suck on your fingers before slipping them beneath her boxers, feeling the soft curls and wondering if they match the drapes, before your fingers get perfectly acquainted with her. 

“Oh fuck—” Vi curses as she grabs onto your ass, lifting the short skirt you’ve been wearing all night, rucking it up to your hips as she sinks her nails into the skin. 

When you slip inside her, she clenches around your fingers, fucking her hips into your pace and Vi struggles to contain the whimpers. They flow out of her like a tidal wave. She’s been thinking about this moment with you for so long, just you and her — it’s the only thing Vi wants. 

When Vi saw you tonight she thought it was absolutely ridiculous for you to wear this strapless top, only because your nipples poked through the small fabric, but now she’s grateful you did. It’s easy to slip as she sucks a pierced nipple into her mouth. Her tongue plays with the barbell, causing you to groan as she pinches and delicately pulls at the other. As Vi kitten licks your nipple, she finds home on your ass again, before ripping your panties off. 

Her mouth is eager, hot, as she won’t stop giving attention to your chest. You’ve never wanted to kiss her more. 

“Can you take two, princess?” 

Eagerly you nod, a yearning yes falls from your lips. Vi doesn’t waste a beat. 

You try to fuck Vi harder, but she doubles down on her efforts, her fingers so deep and you feel so full. Trying to chase the high, you ride her fingers, almost as if you were riding her, your ass unable to stop humping against her. It’s just the two of you, a silent competition to get the other one off first and you can feel Vi winning. Then she’s extending her thumb, rubbing circles on your clit, and you know you’ve lost. 

“That’s it, just like that princess.” 

“Vi, Vi, baby, oh my godddddd—” 

Vi’s purely evil with every thrust of her fingers but she’s so full of light, an angel sent to you in your darkest hour. Batting her long eyelashes at you while she suckles on your bouncing tits, knuckle deep inside you as she gives you everything to just take. She’s too beautiful to look away from. With her pupils dilated, her blue eyes darker than you’ve ever seen them. Letting off your perfect tits with an obnoxious pop, she kisses up your sternum as she marks you with her lips everywhere but the place you actually want. 

But then her words revere in your mind once again. 

Don’t make it like this. 

“Look at me.” 

Eyes drifting back to her as she curls her fingers inside you, your grip on her hair iron tight, unwillingly to let go of you. 

“Such a beautiful girl, so special, so pretty when you form a sentence. The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. There’s no need to be jealous, babygirl, don’t need anyone else but you. Mhm, just you, alright? Yeah? Keep looking at me, yeah baby, just like this.” 

You nod, close to the brink, her compliments send a rush through your head and your throbbing clit feels it. 

The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. 

“Baby, I, shitttt Violettttt—” 

The name of her full name, the first time she’s ever heard it fall from your lips since the first time you met. Vi’s too close and hearing you scream her name isn’t helping. 

“C’mon, princess. Show me how pretty you can be.” Vi commands and you come undone around her fingers. 

Arching your back against the steering wheel, and the horn blows. 

You giggle and so does she but the soft moment is short lived as your body twitches, selfishly basking in the way you irrevocably coated her fingers in your cum. 

Bringing Violet with you as you pull at her hair, her face planting on on your chest as your breasts smother her moans as she jumps off the cliff with you. Sucking at the flesh, marking what she craves as you fuck yourself on her fingers, her pace even more brutal as Vi coaxes you through your blindingly, hot orgasm. 

“Just like that princess, pussy just can’t stop drenching for me, yeah? My pretty girl can paint my face next time. Do you want that? My face covered in your cum, dribbling down my chin, on my tits…you’ll clean me up though. A good girl like you will. So fuckin’ pretty.” 

One slap to your ass has you trembling, body shaking and that’s when Vi lays off, her fingers slipping out of you and you feel so empty without her. 

As if you didn’t need any more torture, you watch as she lavishes at her fingers, covered in your cum, her high cheekbones suctioning as she sucks every last drop. Vi smirks as you drool a little bit before you wipe the saliva off. Sweet as always, she doesn’t say a word. Saving you the embarrassment from a crude joke. 

One Caitlyn would definitely make. 

“Um, sorry, I think I got carried away.” 

“We both did, it’s okay, Vi.” 

There’s a soft silence, it would almost become cumbersome if it wasn’t so peaceful. The only thing you can hear is her exhale of breath as Vi tries to regain some composure. All of it feels complicated, the severed tie to Caitlyn doesn’t seem so entirely severed when her ex-girlfriend makes you come in the driver’s seat of her truck. 

If anyone found out about this, about the two of you, it would be the talk of the town. Caitlyn’s exes making a victory lap in Kirakiller’s grave. The victory is so triumphant even the goddess on top of the mountain gets scorched. It’s your worst nightmare. Your wish is to coddle this as long as you can. Savor the feeling, keeping Vi under lock and key. 

You just want to have this one thing for yourself. 

Even if you are far from her reach, she has a way of making sure any good thing gets ripped from you, torn from your hands before you even have a second to enjoy. As much as you enjoyed her company, this complicates. 

But it doesn’t stop your heart from thumping loudly. A shiver runs up your spine as Vi pulls down your skirt. There’s a tenderness to her touch as she fixes your top, covering your chest once again. You nearly lock your lips with hers when she rubs your full cheeks with the pad of her thumb, smoothing along her jaw as she leans in to kiss the tip of your nose.  Unable to snuffle it, you smile. 

It’s genuine when the light reaches your eyes. Vi says nothing, anything would be too heavy, something neither of you are ready for. A silent agreement to enjoy this moment for what it is. 

“Are you doing anything for Valentines? Mel and Sevika are having this party and I thought you might wanna go together.” The panic surges through her powder-blue eyes the moment she asks the question. 

Is that why she came tonight? Did she want to ask you? 

Reminding you of the first night you met, a party and Sevika and Mel’s but you find yourself to be in an entirely different position. The idea of a date without the pressure, you’d be surrounded by your friends. But you tremor with the thought of Violet wanting to spend Valentine’s day with you. 

“But it’s, um, perfectly fine if you already have plans. It's just I don’t want to spend it alone. Powder is off spending it with Ekko this year, Vander is doing god knows what and Silco well, that would just be pathetic if I asked him what his plans are. I really just—” 

“Violet.” 

Violet.

Violet. 

Violet. 

The second it rolls off your tongue, a crimson hue forms on her freckled cheeks, even spreading across the bridge of her nose before it coats the tips of her ears. A soft pink unlike her vibrant locks of messy hair, partially due to your tugging and pulling. 

“Sorry, Vi. It just slipped.” 

“No. I mean not no. I wasn’t trying to be rude. You can call me, Violet, if you want to.” 

I like hearing you say my name, it sounds even more beautiful than when you whispered it falling apart on my fingers. 

But Vi couldn’t say that. 

“Well then, Violet, I would love to go with you. Count me in.” 

She didn’t need to know you already had plans on going. This was much better. 

— 

Mel decides to take you up on the offer of studying at the library tonight. With your future hanging on by the thread that is your scholarship, you have to keep your grades airtight. Not to mention the downfall of your situation with Caitlyn only puts a bullseye on your back. 

The first couple of hours have been silent for the two of you, the accountability keeping you in check to stay focused. Then the third hour approaches and the two of you start to quietly converse in the nearly vacant library. 

“Did Sev tell you who came into Leagues last night?” 

Shutting your book, your eyes squint in confusion. 

“Kiramman.” 

“I thought the ship had sailed away during that fight. God, it nearly made me want to strangle her and we all know violence is more of Sev’s choice of resolution.” 

“It has. She likes checking in on her so-called…wounded. She’s never been one for grace. I wish she would make it less obvious, Leagues isn’t even her scene. Her pompous ass would never be caught dead in there when we were, well, whatever the fuck you would call us. But she’s been quite the regular ever since I cut things off. 

It’s surprising she would come to you, but on the other hand, she didn’t know where you lived. It was the only straw for her to grasp on. It’s probably killing her to know she’s been blocked on everything, no contact, a complete ghost town. Almost as if none of you even existed together, just a memory faded, one you hope to burn into ash. 

“Well, Vi was there hanging out with Gert and—” 

“She was?” 

Mel suddenly felt like she said something she shouldn’t have. 

“Appearances can be deceiving, they did talk for a bit, yes, but how does that have any level of importance?” Mel can’t hide her lips upturning. 

“Nothing.” 

“Hey kid, lighten up. I think you’re two seconds away from snapping that pencil in half.” The rasp of Sevika’s voice pulls you back to earth, but it’s too late for the pencil as the infrastructure snaps. You feel like a child, caught in doing something they shouldn’t do. 

“Oh, so this is a thing? Vi?” Mel almost speaks a little too loudly, her voice reaching endless limits as the object of your affection is named in the very silent library. “I just thought you wanted to make Kirakiller jealous. Not actually…” 

You bury your head in your notebook, wanting to strangle Sevika as you hear her chuckle, taunting you as your traitorous heart fails you in your time of need. Maliciously giving you up as your tragic negligence exposes you truly. 

Even if it’s silly, needy, or a little bit selfish — you wanted this one part of your life to be concealed from beady eyes. 

“Finally coming to your senses.” Sevika taunts. 

“Enough. I’m not…Violet and aren’t…that’s not what this is.” 

Mel gives you a knowing look, arching her perfectly arched eyebrow, hazel eyes with a ring of gold surrounding them piercing so deeply into your soul. It almost has you stuttering out how you let her fuck you in Violet’s truck, driving you back home with her warm, soft hand on your exposed thigh. Absentmindedly drawing circles into your skin. 

“Violet?” Sevika and Mel say in unison. 

“Did I say something wrong?” 

“Vi doesn’t let anyone call her that. The only one who's ever called her that is well, her family. She yelled at Kirakiller for calling her that whenever they fought. Vi looked like she could rip her tongue out.” 

The information makes your head spin, there is only so much you can take. 

“It’s just a name. Seems like Vi is preoccupied anyways. This is just so…” 

“Hey Vi!” 

You turn around, hearing her greet someone she was friendly with. In her athletic shorts and cleats, it’s clear practice had started again, her gym bag in tote. The sweat and grime layered over her face, the sleeves of her jersey rolled into her shoulders. With each movement, her muscles rippled in the dim lighting of the library. 

The navy blue jersey complimented her vibrant strands of pink, she laughs at whoever she’s talking to and she looks so happy and at peace, it makes your heart soar. Rugby always made her the happiest. Vander and Vi used to play when she was just a girl, even Powder joined as they got older but when Violet got stronger, she restricted for playing seriously with classmates her own size and not old men whose knees could give out in any second. 

She still doesn’t see you and you want to keep it that way so you turn around, minding your own even if your two closest friends in the world just watched you gawk over Violet. 

“It’s just going to get worse. Living together. It’s only a matter of time until one of you…” Sevika gestures to the pencil lying broken on the table. 

“Well, try not to act too disheartened at the party. Vi said she’s bringing someone. I’m sure it won’t work out between them. Ever since she’s gotten here she hasn’t been able to—” 

Sevika places her hand on Mel, to cue her to silence herself as Vi walks up to the table, grabbing the chair closest to you and discreetly pushes it even closer to you when she takes her seat. 

Immediately, you chastise yourself for loving how turned on you are by her sweaty body, her muscles clearly acquiring the pump from her practice, those stupid strong calves brushing against yours. You admire the scar against her top lip. Tattoos on display, making your head feel dizzy, and she leans over and asks if she can have a couple of your orange slices. Before falling right back in conversation with Sevika. 

Violet does anything to be close to you. Mel and you are engrossed in a conversation, when she shows you the video you were discussing, Vi has to lean over to see. Her arm hanging off your shoulder, her neck craning to see but when she sits back, she keeps her arm around the back of your chair. 

“How did practice go today?” You ask. 

“Fine.” But the grass stains on her shirt tell you differently, so does the burn on her exposed shin. 

“Who the fuck did you let kick your ass?” Sevika interjects before you have the chance to. 

“Can’t kick Kirakiller’s ass. Dean Kiramman might throw me out faster than I can blink. I’m already on thin ice and Kirakiller just made it worse. She doesn’t like losing.” 

Violet glances at you, her expression unreadable as she turns her attention back to Sevika. 

“Got outvoted for Team Captain and she can’t fucking stand it. You know the pompous Kirammans don't believe in democracy. One for all and all for none. Some bullshit Kirakiller says while she’s trying to out-bench me in the weight room. Not my fucking problem. Hasn’t been for a while. She went in for some cheap blows during drills. It is what it is.” 

Sevika nods her head, “Seems like you did a real number on her. She shouldn’t have fumbled half of this table.” 

“Sev.” You shoot a glaring warning. 

Violet visibly tenses but she doesn’t remove her arm, Mel elbowing Sev in the gut softly before she coughs up a quiet apology. The tension could be cut with a knife, but Violet just plays with the material of your cotton shirt, soothing herself as she tries to forget. 

“Right, yep.” An awkward silence disperses before Mel and Sevika excuse themselves leaving you and Violet alone. 

“Violet, I can talk to her. She shouldn’t be taking this out on you. This is all my fault.” 

“It’s not you, alright? Not directly. Caitlyn likes to hurt when she’s hurt. I can handle her.” 

Vi chew on her lip, breaking through skin as blood comes to the surface, the iron taste coating her tongue. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You question Violet. 

“She knows she can’t lash out at the one thing she wants.” 

The one thing we both want, Vi thinks to herself. 

She takes the brunt of Caitlyn’s anger and she doesn’t even know why. Maybe an understanding but doesn’t know the full picture. You’re too much of a coward to let it slip. If everything goes south, the woman you adored could truly hate you and that’s the last thing you wanted. It’s silly to even hide a secret. Especially when you feel as if she sees right through your heart when her curious blue eyes look at you. 

“Trust me, I’m playing against what I want but she’s not as done as you think she is. She’ll come back for you, princess. You’re someone anyone would come back for. I’m the low totem pole trash found underneath her designer sole, there’s never been a place for me in her life.” 

“Don’t do that.” 

“It’s the truth.” 

“No, it isn’t. You’re more than how she treated you. Don’t talk about yourself like that. It’s the furthest thing from the truth.” 

Vi nods, tries to offer a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“What really happened? You look banged up and it looks more than just a rough practice. You know you can tell me anything. I’m all ears for you.” 

Vi struggles for a moment, and contemplates on telling you the truth. You deserve to know the truth and she knows that but she also can’t stand for Caitlyn to hurt another piece of you. This entire time apart from Caitlyn, you’ve done your best to separate and get over her. She can’t be the person to make you feel any worse about the situation. 

Caitlyn can’t get more in the way, she won’t allow it. 

“Kiramman just being a cunt, okay? It’s nothing I can’t handle.” 

“Okay but I’m cleaning that cut on your arm when we get home.” You nudge your shoulder against hers. Talking solace as she places her head in the crook of your neck. 

“Whatever you want, princess.” 

Then the question nags in the back of your mind, I saw her with Gert. But you’re putting her with Caitlyn. You think she’s cheating on you but there’s isn’t anything to cheat on. You’ve never spoken about that night in her pick-up truck but still dream of it. 

Luscious, greedy cunt taking her fingers in ease as you fucked her to completion. The whines she made, how harmonious they were with your own. The image stays imprinted on your mind, scorching the deepest depths of your mind for all eternity to see. 

But it’s not everyone taking a look. 

It’s just you. Keeping a lid on it has been more than you bargained for. Vi is the person who has been there to help you. When you’ve felt like the cards are stacked against you, it’s her that pulls you out. Every day after the breakup, if you could even call it that, you evidently were just a warm body to fuck for Caitlyn, Violet was there to make sure you were okay. 

The daily check-ins, making sure you were staying hydrated through all the tears, cooking dinner for the both of you when she knows you skipped lunch. It’s the little things you’re beating yourself up over and it makes you wonder what was really going on. 

If Caitlyn had taught you anything, it was people did fuck you because that’s the only thing they want. But you wanted Violet to be different. More than you ever had than Caitlyn, you need her to be more than what you’ve always been. 

“Are you alright, princess? Lost you there for a second.” 

You hope she never does. And you never want to lose her. You swallow your jealousy, you decide to trust, despite your best efforts; your heart remains unprotected. You chose blind trust, even if you know better, you lean into the faith. 

“Yeah, I’m here with you. Promise.” 

—

There’s red, pink, and white — everywhere. Mel is passionate about Valentine's day. In weeks of build up, this party is all she spoke of. Dragging you along to shop when buying decorations, but you didn’t mind. Sevika covering you at the bar means one less shift this week. After last night’s events, you could use the breather. 

If Sev wasn’t there, putting the men in place, the status of your safety would severely be in question. Vi came after you called, just complaining about it on your break, and thirty minutes later she sat on your section of the bar with one of her favorite books in hand. 

“You didn’t have to come. See? Still in one piece.” 

“Mhm and that’s how I want you to stay. Sorry princess, I’m not going anywhere.” 

It’s not like you needed any more reason to enjoy her company. You have too many. And they come to your mind as needy as a bee to honey. It’s why you bail on coming as a pair, you had a valid excuse, but you also knew if Mel knew why you were helping decorate their home she would literally kick you back to be with Violet. 

Hanging the banner in the entry was the last of your duties and before you knew it everyone was shuffling in one by one. The party is in full swing by the time Violet walks in the front door and you nearly collapse from just how damn good she looks. A bouquet of flowers, an assortment of pink and yellow roses with a few lilies meticulously placed in the arrangement. 

“I hope it’s not too much but I wanted to do something nice for you.” 

“They are beautiful, Violet. You really didn’t have to.” 

She smiles as she leans in to kiss your temple, “Of course I did.” 

The rest of the night goes off without a hitch, the games Mel has planned are fun. Everyone engages with each other and it is surprisingly pleasant. The only unsettling feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach is the ginger in the corner who has been eyeing you all night but the shirley temples you’ve been drinking all night has you dazed, sitting on Violet’s lap with her arms wrapped around your waist. 

Vi’s a bit inebriated as she plays with the hem of your dress, whispering how beautiful you look in your ear. You fidget in her hold, grinding against her even when you’re really not even meaning to. 

Astoundingly, the door slams, her arrival being announced. 

Uninvited and as prompt as ever. 

“Oh, so this—“ Caitlyn gestures to Vi as if she’s the sticky gum on the bottom of her overpriced sneaker, “my leftovers is why you chose to end things?” 

She’s charging as the ginger gets up from her seat, trying to hold Caitlyn back but she fails but in an instant, Vi stands up. Every protective bone in her body goes hyperactive, proving herself as a blockade between you and the devil herself. The smirk Vi wears makes Caitlyn violently scowl. She may be taller, but she’s smaller, thinner, not packing nearly as much muscle in her punch. 

There was nothing she would love more than to punch that stupid, coy fucking smile off her face. 

“What are you gonna do, cupcake?” She says the once endearing nickname, crathing to slither underneath her skin, she wants to piss her off to no end. Make Caitlyn regret ever fucking with either of you. It’s all this ever was, a game. Kiramman’s are always desperate to win, to annihilate your opponent. Any future moves made would be contingent in how she made you feel. 

“Get out of my way, Violet.” 

“Call me that again and I’ll knock your teeth out. And what are you going to do about it? Everyone may be afraid of you outside of the field, but in case you have forgotten, this isn't on campus where things are done the Kiramman way. If you wanna take a cheap shot at me, better make it count.” 

With a careful gaze, Caitlyn’s eyes beam down to the hand clinging to Vi’s bicep, how you’re looking at Vi and touching her skin and how dreadful you look to her. 

She directs her voice to you, “What? You’re gonna pick her over me? Like we mean nothing?” 

Bitterly, you laugh, but it isn’t funny. Not one bit. 

“It’s painful, isn’t it? Being on the other side of it.” Taking a step forward, leaning against Violet’s shoulder, intertwining your fingers together. “Those were your words exactly, Kiramman. This is nothing.” 

“I–” For the first time, right before your eyes, she’s stunned. For the first time since she’s met you, she’s speechless. 

“Caitlyn, we should just–” 

“Maddie, enough.” 

The both of you have done more than just rattle her, you’ve surprised her and Violet would be smiling so damn wide if Caitlyn still wasn’t in front of her. 

“Baby, can we talk about this? Just a minute of your time and we can sort this out.” Violet won’t stand for the desperate pleas for a moment longer. She takes a step forward, getting in Kiramman’s face, “I think you and your little orange muppet should get the fuck out before I throw you out myself.” 

“This isn’t any of your business, Vi.” 

“When you’re talking to my girl like that, it really fucking is.” 

My girl. 

Violet seems to be two seconds away from physically throwing her out when Mel finally interjects. “Caitlyn, you are unwelcome, uninvited, and you’re trespassing. I ask that you please leave before other extreme measures need to be taken.” 

A venomous scoff leaves her lips as Maddie drags her away, slamming the door on her way out. 

You're rattled, but not from Caitlyn, but from the assertiveness you didn’t know Vi possessed. The implications of this would serve consequences to not just Vi but to you but you couldn’t focus on that right now. She had called you her girl. 

Vi’s girl. 

“Well now that’s out of the way…” Mel jokes, lightening the mood as the party jumps back in full swing. But all you hear is Vi’s voice calling you hers and it’s like she knows what you’re thinking of when she spares a glance. 

“I’m sorry it just slipped but I couldn’t stand her looking at you like that. Like you were some piece of meat she can have whenever she wants.” Violet apologizes. Rubbing the back of your hand with your thumb, tracing her name into your skin. 

“It’s okay, um, it was actually really hot…” Immediately, she takes a step forward in an effort to be closer to you. “I-I’ve never really seen you be so uh–” 

“What princess?” Mischievously, she girls her head, biting her lip right before she licks them, her tongue piercing teasing you. 

“I dunno…it was just really hot seeing you like that…calling me that.” 

“My girl?” Vi smiles. It’s so genuine, making you swoon with a sincerity only she can give. 

“Yeah, something like that, maybe.” 

“I can call you a lot more things if you want. Wanna take a bet if they actually locked their bathroom?” 

Neither of you have ever moved so quickly in your life. Clothes get thrown on the tile the minute the two of you are alone, pressing your frame against the door as she decorates your neck in sovereign possession. She never wants anyone to question, you’re her girl. 

“Vi, do you,  fuccckkkk, really think this is a good idea?” She only grunts in reply as you're nearly fully exposed, your weeping cunt grinding against the muscular thigh she offers so graciously. Your friendship with her hangs in the balance, and you don’t want to think about that right now but you can’t help but have your doubts. 

“We can stop if you want to. Whatever you want.” Vi moves to remove her thigh until you whimper, tugging her closer by her pink hair towards you. 

“I didn’t say that. Please, don’t stop.” 

“Mhm, okay princess but only because you asked so nicely.” 

Vi pushes her against your pussy, your hips falling more erratic as Violet gets lost in your neck. Lips marking whatever inch of skin they can find as your folds get the needed friction from her trousers. Blindly sucking on the sweet spot behind your ear, making you putty in her hands. 

With a tight grip, you pull at her vibrant hair, her roots grounding you as the build in the pit of your stomach increases. But she pulls away just when you’re getting close. If your hands didn’t have the edge of the sink to hold onto, you’re not sure your legs would have supported you. 

“Did you want to stop?” 

“No.” Vi smirks. 

“Then why the hell did you?” 

She says nothing, infuriating you further. It almost pisses you off to the point where it’s painful. Vi keeps smirking at god knows what. Maybe she finds you just as pathetic as Caitlyn does. It may have been a distant future, when Caitlyn had actually been decent in her freshman year, her and Vi were the talk of the town until it all abruptly ended and no one knew why. You’ve never asked. 

Vi’s friendly with you but not to the point where she’s an open book. She’s hardly an open book with anyone, she’s careful when she hooks up with others. Especially with the who, she doesn’t want someone who's going to go off and tell the rest of campus how many fingers she used while she makes them come. 

But now, you like her. Really fucking badly. 

The way she snapped on her, protecting you, nearly connecting her fist with Caitlyn’s sharp jawline. It’s one of the reasons you’re in here with her. But still, not knowing the reason makes you feel slightly unsettled. 

There's been different rumors over the past few years surrounding Vi the sweetest girl around and Kirakiller. All of them painting Caitlyn in a god awful light. 

Kirakiller cheated on Vi. 

Vi left because Kirakiller didn’t want to make things official. 

Kirakiller‘s tenacious appetite for the bedroom couldn’t be satisfied by Vi. 

Kirakiller said Vi couldn’t make her come. 

The list goes on and on, and on. Neither of them were seen to be around each other again, not until Caitlyn seemed to catch you in her web. It was the sin of the century. Vi’s roommate seeing her ex-girlfriend. It was messy to say the least. A few long weeks and you cooking Vi her favorite meal, buying her favorite sour candy in bulk, along with some new gadget for her computer she’d been wanting. 

It’s all it took to forgive you. Her only request was to keep Caitlyn out of the apartment while she was here. She never spoke about her again and you never pressed the wound. If Vi didn’t ever want to talk about it but why they broke up gnawed at you. 

But Violet doesn’t seem to give a shit about that right now. 

“Get on your knees, princess.” 

You obliged as Vi took off the sweater, revealing a grey fitted tank-top, showing off just how fit she stayed in the crisp of winter. 

“Good girl. Now, take off my belt, yeah?” 

You released the belt from the latch, pulling it through the loop and handing it to Vi. Her firm grip grabs the belt, as she kneels behind you, bounding your wrists together by the smooth, cold leather. It’s black with a silver clasp, it feels nice against your wrists as she tightens it. As far as you can tell, it’s new and it makes you wonder if she bought it for just an occasion like this. 

Wrists bound behind your back, Vi slaps the fat of your ass before soothing over with delicate fingers, the calloused pads of her fingers playing with your puckered hole as she thumbs it gently. 

Pulling it back for a moment, collecting saliva in her warm mouth before drooling over your ass. Smothering her own spit, a place you’d never let anyone touch. You've convinced yourself all this time it’s because of your boundaries but when Vi did it, you didn’t have a problem with it. Then you realize you have trust with Vi, one you hadn’t had with anyone else. 

It was just a spur of the moment, two horny girls lonely and single, needing someone else but you also know Vi wasn’t one to sleep with half the campus. She’s a one-woman kind of girl. Maybe you need that trust. 

You’re hesitant, still but you can’t bring yourself to say no. She’s attentive, making sure you’re alright with each moment. Not wanting to push you past a limit both of you can’t come back from. 

“Is this alright?” Vi whispers into your ear as if she can read your mind. 

“Yeah, it’s good.” You take a beat before moaning as you lean into her chest, “A little too good.” 

Vi chuckles into your ear, the vibrations tingle throughout your body. Suddenly your mind is wondering how a simple giggle can make you feel so soaked. With a gentle hand, her thumb keeps on playing with your ass as she maneuvers you into her lap and that’s when you feel it. 

A faux cock. 

“Is that a—” You want to ask but for the first time in your life, you feel shy. 

“A cock?” 

“Someone’s cocky.” 

You both giggle at your innuendo. 

Lightly, with soaked fingers she pulls out of your lips, she rims your puckered hole, a coveted limit in your body but with her, you so freely wish to give it. 

The eye contact feels awfully intimate but you can’t bring yourself to tear yourself away. It’s entirely new to you. Caitlyn never liked to look you in the eyes when she fucked you. Always something to hide, how she truly feels about you is privy to anyone else but her. 

You didn’t have the right to know. 

With Vi, everything becomes so clear. 

It’s crystal clear when she asks if she can slide a finger inside your ass, it’s overly intimate when you tell her yes as your eyes never leave hers. Her eyes are as hooded as you’ve ever seen them but she won’t break eye contact. Not for a second. You’re questioning if she’s even blinking. 

With each passing second, her pink hair surrounds you as her forehead pressed against yours, blue eyes open as she asks again if you’re okay with it. You give her another yes before her middle finger slides in your mouth, your tongue circling the digit before sucking on it dramatically. Letting off with a pop, Vi teases your forbidden hole one more time before she gently coaxes you open for her. 

“Shit, Shit, that’s—” You squint your eyes shut. The new sensation is a little too much for your brain to process much less the fluttering pressure in the pit of your stomach. 

“Look at me, princess. Keep your eyes on me, alright?” Vi lightly commands, her tone as sweet as you’ve ever heard it. 

With the sweet words thrown your way, your eyes flutter open, long eyelashes kissing your brow bone. Vi smiles softly, her top lip lifting as she sees the way you’re looking at her. 

Kirakiller is so fucking stupid, Vi thinks to herself be she keeps the words to herself. 

Vi stretches you more as her entire finger sits within you, waiting for you to be ready for more and when you are, she nearly comes herself. You’re louder than anyone she’s ever been with. She’s thankful for the loud music Mel insisted on, some shitty pop tune drowning out the two of you. Violet’s never been so thankful. 

Those shitty pop tunes are drowning the especially deafening screams of Vi’s name until your vocal chords are shot. With a strong wrist and the flick of her wrist, she can tell you’re already close. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before.” Shining eyes are glossy as ever as you struggle to keep them open and focused on her. “Never felt this, shiiiittttt, Vi, please. I’m so close.” 

“What do you mean? Has no one ever fucked your ass? You’ve been sleeping with Kiramman. How have you not—” 

“Never let her.” That sends Vi’s clit throbbing viciously. 

“Kirakiller’s an ass lover, everyone knows that.” 

“Are we gonna sit her talking about her the entire time or are you gonna make me come?” Agitating you roll your eyes but Vi licks her lips slowly as a distraction, pulling your attention to her pierced tongue and then you feel another finger stretch at your ass. 

“What did you say, princess? Something about coming?” Vi uses another finger, her long digits spreading the slit in your lower lips, making a mess as she spreads the pre-cum spilling out of you. “Be a good girl won’t you?” Vi pinches your clit and just like that your eyes shut again, a completely shattering orgasm washed over you. 

Body twitching as Vi keeps you in her hold with a strong grip, your body riding against her fingers but she isn’t too pleased for a moment as she tuts. 

“What did I say princess? Eyes open, now.” You struggle, again, but you’re able to meet her demand. There’s an urge to look away, to hide in Vi’s pink hair, her tattooed neck, but you do none of it. Dangerous eyes look at yours as she fucks you through it. You wanted to tug at her hair, pull her closer to you, but hands are bound so all you can do is take it, with loud moans being released, ones you’re trying to control but utterly fail to do so. 

“So pretty like this, yeah? God, those gorgeous eyes of yours are gonna get me in trouble. Crying for me like that, makes me wanna take you back to our home and fuck you on my bed, baby. You’re such a beautiful girl and deserve to be treated like one, my sweet girl.” 

Vi isn’t sure if you’re crying from the intimacy or from the orgasm, probably both. It’s not a secret since the start of the semester you’d been with Kiramman but Vi knew first hand what that meant. There’s no eye contact, no cuddling, no reassurances, it’s just sex. When Vi was going through it herself, she could see the toll it even took on Caitlyn but she didn't break. Her resolve is rock solid and Vi had learned it the hard way, just as she supposed you did. 

It was an endless cycle and it seems Kiramman continued it again with you. It’s evil the way she pulls you apart, makes each part of you feel special, like you’re her entire world and there’s no one else but there always is someone else. Always. Kiramman will lie through her perfectly aligned teeth but there is always someone she keeps for a backup. 

Vi wipes away your tears as she soothes you with soft whispers and delicate hands running up and down your back. It feels like the easiest thing she’s done, soothing you into serenity. With gentle care, she takes the belt off of your wrists, rubbing soft circles over the sensitive skin as you come back to yourself. The alcohol feels like a memory. Her kindness makes your head spin and your heart flutter. 

Now, you understand why the two of them never worked. 

Vi is everything Caitlyn struggles to be. 

It’s like looking in a mirror of everything you want to be but knowing you’ll never be her. The imperfection of Caitlyn’s kindness and the overabundance of Vi’s is probably too much of a bruise to her ego. One could see how much it would eat her alive. Vi helps you relocate your clothes that are scattered across the bathroom floor. Shamelessly, she watches as you dress yourself again, not one to look away from the woman she had screaming her name not even five minutes prior. 

“You’re so beautiful, can’t keep my eyes off you.” 

“C’mon Violet. We live together, I’m the same ole’ me. Now, you’ve just fucked my ass.” You try to brush off the compliment. You feel more similar to Caitlyn then you’d like to admit. Vi’s wholeheartedness is overwhelming, leaving a sting of longing every time she looks at you with a light in her curious eyes. 

You slip on your dress and Vi is quick to zip you up but not without kissing the nape of your neck. 

Tonight’s actions suddenly feel very sobering. 

Vi isn’t done with you as she lifts you up on the countertop, finding her sweatshirt before she covers her toned figure again. You’re wondering what she’s playing at. What she’s thinking about. Vi finds your heels, the versace platform heels Caitlyn had gifted you for your birthday a week after the fact. A pity gift. Similar to herself, you couldn’t say no, it was just too pretty. 

They’re too expensive to come from a broke college student. Vi knows where they came from but she exercises that tight lip of hers. 

With a gentle tap, she taps your calf lightly a couple times and you offer your leg to her as she slaps the heel back onto your feet, clasping the strap around your ankle before she does the same for the other. The both of you stare at the lingering hands on your thighs, rubbing soft circles into the skin, the bluntness of her fingernail causes goosebumps to spread across the skin. 

Caitlyn is terrified of this, something so soft and fragile, her grip would be too tight; she’d break you in the process. She’s a chapter you want to close. All you want now is the woman in front of you. 

Vi has only ever been just a friend and she treats you like this. An imaginative mind, one of your own making, starts to wonder…if Vi was in love with Caitlyn, was she even sweeter to her? If her golden heart wasn’t enough for Caitlyn, whose would it be? 

The question makes you lost on the idea. Maybe it’s the post-nut clarity of being fucked like you just were, but you see Vi an entirely new light. One that feels as blinding as the sun but she’s smothering you with a perfect amount of warmth. 

“So…that happened.” Lightly, Vi laughs trying to brush off the seriousness of the moment. 

“Yeah and it seems you came packing.” 

Mel has been talking her up all week, telling her she wasn’t just seeing things, all she had to do was give you space and you would come to her slowly. It seems like Mel hadn’t been totally wrong. You are clearly attracted to her but the more protective side of her mind wonders if this is all that it extends to — sex. 

The flashback of Caitlyn and all her little twisted games comes to mind while your curious eyes inspect her intensely. 

“It’s just a stroke of optimism.” Vi tries to control her breathing when you close your legs around her waist, crossing your legs over the other as you lock her into a secure position. 

The tight dress you’re wearing bunches up again, almost resting on your hips. 

“I think you were wanting to stroke something else.” 

“Uh. No. I was, definitely…okay…maybe I was. A little bit.” Vi admits as you continue to play with her hair, your heel lightly grazing her bum as you tease her for just a little bit longer. 

“It’s cute. I like it when you’re confident. You packed a cock in your pants because you wanted to fucked me tonight. Be proud about it. Yeah, maybe you didn’t get to use it but you sure did fuck me.” 

“How do you do that?” 

“Do what?” 

“You’re so brave. Nothing stands in your way, when you want something you go after it. I could never do that.” 

“Well, you kinda did. Unless, um—” But the words die in your throat. Suddenly they seem too real and if you tell her, this whole charade will be over, reality will set in and this magical night will only be reduced to primal, drunken needs. 

For all you know, Vi didn’t mean any of this. Maybe you just wanted to get your pussy wet, wanted to fuck a pretty girl, needed to see some tits to get her through this lonely holiday. The one that patronizes the single. 

Maybe that’s all this is. You’re just a nice piece of ass to fuck. It makes you feel dirty, the air feels thinner, and before you know it Vi’s whispering in your ear to take deep breaths. 

“Princess, I’m right here, alright. Just breathe and tell me. It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

“I-I just thought because you know, well, after the last month I thought I was more than just…” 

“A girl I wanna fuck?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, you are. Would that be such a bad thing? I know with Caitlyn you had something casual, and maybe you liked things that way, but I want something more serious. I don't want to play with your feelings and I don’t want you to play mine. If this is what you want then I think it’d be worth a shot but if not, we can just be friends, alright? There’s no pressure.” 

“But Natalie…you said she wanted something serious and you didn’t.” 

“I lied to you and I’m sorry for that. But I wanted something serious, just not with her.” 

“You know what you want.” You stated it more like a question, puzzled and perplexed about a woman, for the first time, saying exactly what she’s looking for. 

“Well…yeah? I respect you enough not to waste your time.” Her eyes gleam, expectant and waiting for you to answer. 

“I’ve never had someone so honest with me. I kinda don’t know what to do with it.” 

The most sincere eyes look into yours, as she leans into your fingers that play with her vibrant, violet hair. It’s all so fast but Vi nurtures everything once broken within you until you’re healthy once again, restoring the strength you once felt before your heart stopped listening to your head. 

It’s a warm, comforting feeling you want to sink into. She’s the closest you’ve had to a semblance of hope. You wondered how anyone could ever let go of her. It wasn’t that she had just given you the best orgasm of your life, it was more than that. Vi made you feel more in thirty minutes than Caitlyn had in your entire time together. 

There wasn’t a worry in the back of your mind if this mattered, if you mattered. Her eyes were so open, letting you into the love dripped like honey, full of sweetness, every empty jar of yours waiting to be filled. 

“Don’t do anything right now then. For now,” Vi leaned forward, her lips ghosting yours. Close enough where her breath could be felt on yours. “I don’t know where you’re at but I’ve never felt like this, about anyone, and if you wanna start slow we can. Although, we have twice now so I don’t know how slow we can actually go, or we could even go on real date and then you can decide but—”

“Violet?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You talk too much.” 

You lean in and Vi doesn’t waste the opportunity, capturing your top lip between hers, wanting nothing more than to get lost in every inch of you. Holding you like a delicate flower she’s afraid to crumple in her hands, Vi lets herself get lost in this. 

For once she doesn’t think of the consequences, if this is moving too fast, wondering what Caitlyn would do if she knew and who she would actually be jealous of. It’s a slippery slope, you messing with her, Vi messing with you. 

But she desperately wants it to be more than your roommate, more than a friend — more than secret meeting where Vi fucks you senseless. She can’t get into this and for it to mean nothing and she’s terrified Caitlyn already has her claws dung in deep to you. Then there’s a moan of Vi’s name being said, and her greedy tongue slips in your mouth as she aches for more of you. 

Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling your frame impossibly close to her, commanding your mouth with her pierced tongue as if she was born for it, the coolness of the stainless steel ball tangled with your tongue is a high you want to chase. With every touch, a shiver runs up her spine, like there’s a live wire exposed within you and only her touch can spark it alive. 

Vi knows where you want to be touched before you say a word, like she has a connection to your mechanisms, every craving designed for her to carry out as if she’s the one who put them there in the first place. Violet’s pelvis presses against yours, as she gives you the kiss of your life, it leaves you breathless as you chase her lips, your grip pulling at her roots as if it’s your sole purpose in life. 

The rest of the world melts away and it’s just the two of you. The lingering shadow of your ex fades into the background and all you see is Violet. Right under your nose this entire time and only now do you realize just how wonderfully perfect she is. 

Violet ravishes in how good it feels to be chosen and it’s by you. 

The angel who can fly all on her own now; wings no longer clipped by the devil herself. 

Fin. 

[revelboo]

Cannot believe that knockout has a HUMAN side piece and that breakdown is jealous of them smh 😔

(I love your writing sm btw I'm binging everything)

I can see Breakdown being the more attentive, affectionate of the two in a relationship once he gets over the fear of reader stealing Knockout. Any unpleasantness with the human just gets pawned off on him by Knockout, though. You’re sick? Ew. No, that’s Breakdown’s problem now.

My Favorite Accident Pt 10

TFP Knockout x Reader x Breakdown

• Heart racing as the car puts itself into gear and starts rolling, wheel turning, you dig your fingers into your thighs. There’s something seriously wrong with you for being relieved that you’re being grabbed by one of them, someone who knows Knockout and not some random, human druggie. “We race together,” you say, putting your hands in your lap remembering how weird Knockout was about you touching things inside him. “Are you his friend?” Because you really wish you’d asked Knockout more questions about his people. He’s gossiped enough though to remember names he’s dropped. And one he’d mentioned more than any other. “You’re Breakdown, right?”

• Engine stuttering for a klik at the fact that Knockout had told you about him, he growls. What exactly had the medic told you? “That’s right.” And okay, that voice of yours is soothing. Is that the fascination? Knockout just liking how you sound? Knows Knockout can be a bit funny about things he finds pretty, but aside from that soft voice, you’re just another organic flesh bag. Nothing special. Why reveal himself? “He talks to you about me often?”

• Enough to know this is his bestie and maybe something a bit more. Do alien robots do romance? Because when he’d mentioned this guy, he’d sounded almost wistful for all of five seconds before catching himself and swapping back to arrogant condescension. “He said you look after the,” you begin and hesitate as you scrabble for the word he’d used, “Vehicons. Make sure they have what they need.” Even if Knockout had sounded torn between almost admiration and annoyed bemusement by that. Like Breakdown was wasting his time.

• Engine rumbling as you fidget in his passenger seat, he vents. “Someone has to,” he mutters. It had been an insult when they’d put him over the cloned soldiers, but really, they’re Cybertronians, too. They have sparks. And he’d just shrugged it off, doing his assignment to the best of his ability. Trying to lobby for better conditions, a bit more rations for them. “Those energon mines are death traps even when we’re not at war.”

• “I think that’s what Knockout admires about you. That you care,” you say, because staying on this guy’s good side seems prudent. And you have no idea where he’s taking you, but you’re starting to get worried. “You’re not driving me out in the desert to dump my body, are you?” Because he’d left the outskirts of your little town miles ago. And he laughs, but also doesn’t answer your question. “Cause Knockout may be a little put out at losing the only real competition he has in the races.” No response. Alright then. You grab his gear shift and shove it into park catching him by surprise as he shudders and snarls, hear his startled alien swearing as you claw at the little nob to unlock the door, breaking a nail before throwing open the door and running flat out.

Previous

[fawnfemmes]

Sevika x chubby reader where the reader is a councilor. They make eyes during meetings where Sevika looks the reader up and down. Sevika flirts with reader right after until they have to leave. This keeps happening for a few meetings until reader shows up in a more showy outfit just to show off for Sevika. She resists ending the meeting early just to get to reader sooner. After, a different (male?) councilor gets to reader first, he attempts flirting with the reader and Sevika ofc pushes aside the guy and probably insults him for speaking to reader lmao and I was picturing this ending with Sevika and reader waiting until everyone leaves (or sevika telling everyone to get out) and having ✨intimacy✨ in the councilor room. But you can end it differently ofc. This is just a dabble tbh, just an idea that came to mind once I saw your post about it. Hope this sparks some inspiration!

୨so… what now?୧

councillor!sevika X f!councillor!reader

🏷️: lesbian sex, porn with a side of plot, fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), semi-public sex, reader is chubby, pet names used, stone top sevika, no beta we die like men

🦌:tysm for this angel.. I was half asleep when i wrote this so it might not be very good. Idk. i hope it’s okay & I’m sorry it took so long to answer!! it’s short but that’s cause i scrapped it a few times. i left it how it was for posting cause i didn’t wanna force myself to write and then have it be awful 😔

when sevika became a councillor, she’d expected to spend all her time with selfish rich people who aren’t concerned for anything but their own causes. what she hadn’t expected was you.

sure, you were a filthy rich piltie, but you used that money for things other than yourself. you lived luxuriously but you spent the money you didn’t use to help people. and you were the only councillor, apart from her, to argue that zaun deserves equal attention to piltover.

immediately she was enamoured with you. it also helped that you were utterly breathtaking— soft and feminine, yet tantalisingly sexy. and after your first conversation, in which she almost went insane after you fawned over her prosthetic arm, she noticed you tended to float towards her a whole lot more.

you made eyes at her constantly, which she more than gladly returned, and most of your post-meeting conversations were simply the two of you flirting back and forth until somebody called you away for whatever the reason.

another thing she noticed was that your clothing changed. you’d always been feminine. but she noticed that since your first conversation you gradually wore.. less clothing? of course, you weren’t crossing the boundary of indecent exposure, but the slits in your dresses gradually crawled up your thighs day by day, and the necklines creeped lower. on occasion, sevika would notice you leaning forward in your seat diagonally from hers, just enough to give her a glimpse of your décolletage.

and naturally, it wasn’t only sevika that noticed this. there was another councillor who’d taken a liking to you. and being the lovely person you were, you’d laughed politely at his attempts to flirt with you and had returned the same energy— only your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes like it did with sevika, your voice never had the same airy tone. it did stroke her ego a little, but that didn’t mean the situation didn’t piss her off.

after a particularly stressful meeting, sevika was already on edge. when she saw you and aforementioned councillor talking. except he had you much closer this time, and you didn’t seem particularly thrilled. so, she intervened.

after a swift argument and sevika having to resist the urge to punch things, the two of you had been left alone.

it hadn’t been difficult, getting her this riled up. the second that councillor had left she’d burst into this spiel about how you make her feel, how unbearable she finds it having to look at you in those damn clothes and not be able to fuck the living daylights out of you all the time. and all you could do was laugh at her, pulling her in to kiss her gently, pulling her hand to your waist.

which is how you found yourself in this situation. sevika on her knees in front of you, her beautifully carved nose bumping against your clit while she murmurs sweet words into your cunt. her hands gripping at the fat of your thighs, steel eyes meeting yours as your eyelids flutter.

“sevika- at least give me a break- fuck!,” you grip at her hair gently, hips moving against her face as she looks up at you, steel eyes glittering as she looks at your plum red face. she grins cockily at you before continuing, somehow even faster.

it’s impressive to you, how long she’s been doing this. you think it might be crossing the half hour mark, and you’ve already cum twice. you had offered to return the favour but she declined plainly, and you weren’t about to complain.

she stays buried between the fat of your thighs for long enough that you think the bones in your legs are melting, and when she finally comes up for air she seems immensely proud of herself.

after promptly cleaning you up and escorting you back to your place, sevika pauses outside your door and rests a hand on the small of your back. she looks so reluctant to leave that you just laugh, pulling her into your house and immediately wrapping your arms around her neck. she laughs, voice shaky when she speaks.

“so, uhm… what now?”

long story short, you end the night sweaty and bare in your bed, talking about your lives and pasts after the realisation that you don’t really know each other— well, didn’t. you do now, and you think you might love sevika now you do.

[absurdthirst]

Stupid Cupid {Javier Peña x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.2k

Warnings: FWB, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, hair pulling, hurt feelings, insults, canon-typical violence, mentions of prostitution, jealousy, embarrassment, Javi groveling, angry words, confessions, oral sex (female receiving), lingerie.

Comments: Valentine's Day turns into a disaster for Javi when he asks a dumb question like why would he take you out for the lover's holiday.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Javier Peña MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, holding tight just like you’ve discovered he enjoys. The kiss passed between you including little nips of teeth, especially by him that makes you moan every time. The room is hot, sticky from the way your bodies move together. Javi’s grunts are music to your ears as he thrusts into you, holding firm to your waist as if he’s scared you’re going anywhere. “Fuck, Javi.” You pant, tilting your head back as he kisses down your throat. You both need this, need the stress relief from the hectic and sometimes overwhelming job of hunting down Pablo Escobar.

He grinds deep into your cunt like it's his haven from the shit show constantly happening outside the four walls of your apartment. It's his sanctuary and he worships you as you let him take what he wants. He leaves indentations on your skin in places that can be concealed by your clothes but he nips whatever inch of skin he has access to. You moan when he adjusts the angle, hitting something that solidifies his identity to your neighbors - as if they don't hear the same cry nearly every night - and you tilt your head back, eyes squeezed shut. "There. Fuck. Right there baby." You plead breathlessly, needing him to keep that angle.

Javi grunts, teeth grinding as he concentrates on keeping that angle. He’s so fucking close to cumming but he wants you to cum with him. You two are so in sync, so tuned to each other. He knows your body as well as he knows his own. Your hand slides from his hair and to his shoulder, wrapping around the firm muscles on the broad length of them. “So close, baby, I’m gonna-“ your breath catches right before you cry out. Body stiffening underneath his and the walls of your cunt clamp down around him, soaking him in your pleasure.

He grunts at the way you squeeze him, his mind going blank to the pleasure of being inside you. Javier pants, his grip tightening as he rocks you on his cock while he clenches his jaw. "Hermosa. Fuck. Feel so goddamn good." He groans, thrusting a few more times until he can't take it anymore. He pushes deep, a low groan of your name echoing in the room while his cock pulses, painting your walls with his hot cum. You sigh, caressing his back as he leans forward to rest his sweaty forehead on your chest. 

“Perfect.” You giggle slightly, basking in the luxurious bliss after an orgasm. Soon you will get up and clean up and light a cigarette, but right now, all you can hear is your mingled panting breaths and the way your heart beats wildly in your chest.

He playfully shifts to bite your chin and you caress his cheek. He looks up at you and leans in to softly kiss you. After a moment, he pulls out of you and shifts to lay down, pulling you into his chest. He kisses your forehead and you curl around him, making him itch for a smoke since he’s so relaxed.

“Three times.” You huff, sliding your hand up his chest and down over the slightly soft pooch of his belly. He grumbles about needing to lay off the whiskey sometimes but you think that he is just perfect. “I don’t know how you are going to top that tomorrow.”

Javier snorts, closing his eyes to just enjoy the relaxation seeping into his bones, “I think I’ll manage. Know exactly what to press to make you fall apart for me.” He smirks, squeezing your ass as you curl around him. His other arm behind his head, and he opens his eyes to look down at you. “I think I’ll manage it.”

You smirk slightly, kissing his chest and humming. “After dinner?” You arch a brow. “I think I deserve more than whiskey for dinner for Valentine’s Day.” You’ve been sleeping together for nearly eight months, and it’s clear that you’ve fallen for your often curt partner, but he has moments where you swear that he adores you. You just want to do something like a normal couple for once, since you can’t openly date.

Javier can’t help it. He freezes under your touch, and he feels like he just swallowed a golf ball. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. He completely forgot about it. He hasn’t gotten a woman flowers or celebrated the holiday since Lorraine practically held a gun to his head and demanded he get her flowers. “Why would I take you to dinner?” He asks, confused and panicking a little that this isn’t just sex for you like he thought it was.

You had been expecting some smartass comment, a joke about buying you a sandwich or something. Not panic and….what sounded like disgust. You stiffen and pull away, finding abject horror in his eyes when you look at him. “Obviously you wouldn’t.” You huff, twisting around to climb out of the bed so you can flee into the bathroom.

He frowns, watching you march into the bathroom, and he takes that as his cue. He reaches for his pants from the floor, pulling the denim up his legs and he zips them up before he searches for his shirt. His heart pounds and he doesn’t know what to say when you come out of the bathroom minutes later to find him putting on his shoes.

You tighten the belt of your robe, not wanting to feel completely exposed. Instead of him waiting to explain for being an asshole, he’s getting ready to leave. You had wondered if you were being too pushy or maybe overreacting to everything until you saw him dressed. Your heart twists and feels like it’s breaking, but you just walk over to your dresser and pick up your pack of cigarettes. Pulling one out and lighting up, taking a long drag before you exhale. “You know where the door is.”

He stares at you, unsure of what he wants. Maybe he wanted you to scream at him, tell him he’s an asshole for not taking you to dinner after he’s fucked you nearly every night for months. He nods, reaching into his back pocket for his cigarettes and he places one in his mouth, patting his shirt for his lighter but he daren’t ask you for a light when you’re looking at him like you want to set him on fire. He leaves without another work, making his way back to his apartment to wonder what the fuck went wrong tonight.

“Fucking asshole.” You ignore the tears that are sliding down your cheeks as you smoke your cigarette, closing your eyes when you hear the door close with a soft click. Tomorrow is going to be miserable.

****

The next day, Javier arrives at the embassy and all he sees are fucking roses and chocolates and cards. Is he the only one who forgot Valentine’s Day? He grunts as he walks down the hall until he enters his office to find Steve fumbling through giving delivery instructions to a driver for a florist. He rolls his eyes and takes the phone, helping to give the man directions to their building and that’s when you walk in. His heart thumps in his chest and you don’t even look at him as you pull your office chair out.

“Morning Steve.” You offer when Murphy leans back in his chair and shoots you a good morning. “You look cheerful.” You tease. “Big plans with the wife?” The blonde man grins even wider and winks. “Hell yeah, I’m going to romance her tonight and make sure that I get laid.” It’s sweet how much the couple loves each other, even with all the shit you are dealing with. “What about Olivia?” You ask, knowing that dealing with the little girl they’ve adopted has been a big change for the young family. “I’ve got a neighbor we trust to watch her.”

“That’s good.” You smile as Steve looks proud of himself. Things have been rocky lately, but he’s hoping tonight will put them back on steady ground. “What about you?” He asks, glancing over at Javier but his question is towards you. He’s not stupid, he knows you two are sleeping together. Javi comes in smelling like your perfume way too often to not know. You are looking down at your paperwork, so you don’t see the look and you hum. “I’ve got a date with Thomas Moore tonight.” You announce. “First date.”

Javier nearly drops the cigarette he’s smoking on his shirt, his eyebrows immediately raised. “From the CIA?” Steve asks, his brow furrowed in confusion. Surely Javier would be taking you for dinner after he’s fucked you for God knows how long. “Yep.” You pop the ‘p’ and Javier huffs as he snubs out his smoke. “Really? When did he ask you out?” Javier asks through slightly clenched teeth.

You shrug slightly. “He’s been asking me out for two months.” You admit. “But he called with some information that he thought I might be able to use last night, and asked again.” You know Javi cares more about the intel you might have gotten than anything else, so you shuffle through your reports. “I said yes.”

Javier taps his fingers on the table, curious why you’d never mentioned that Moore was asking you out. “What’s the intel?” He grunts, trying to show he’s not bothered even when his stomach is twisting in annoyance and jealousy.

You hum as you look through the papers, knowing that Javi is impatient for the information so you don’t rush. Wanting to make sure that it’s a solid lead. When you find the CentraSpy report you grin as you wave it towards Steve, ignoring Javi. “Blackie is making a drop off today. One of the safe houses we stopped surveilling.” You tell him, pushing out of your chair and grabbing your jacket. “Let’s hope he’s on time because I’m leaving early today.”

Steve nods, excitement on his face to finally get a lead after chasing tail for so goddamn long. Javier is more apprehensive. “You’re telling us you basically sold yourself for some intel.” Javier scoffs, crossing his arms after scratching his jaw. He didn’t have time to shave this morning since he barely slept, thinking about you. He doesn’t get up right away, watching Steve shrug on his jacket and he sighs, grabbing his pack of cigarettes as he stands.

You frown at his accusation, but you turn away and start walking out of the office so he doesn’t see you. There’s a sharp retort on your tongue about his own methods, but you won’t let him know that you are bothered by his comment. Thomas Moore is coming down the hall, smiling happily as you come towards him. “Hey, are we still on for tonight?” He asks and you nod. “Seven okay?” You ask, stopping and smiling flirtatiously. “I want to make sure I’ve got time to get ready.”

Javi clenches his jaw, unable to help himself, and Steve smirks, aware of the situation. Thomas nods, winking at you, “I’ll see you then.” You grin and continue walking down the hall. Javier glares at Thomas who frowns, confused about the DEA agent’s annoyance at him. “You seriously want to go out with that prick?” Javier scoffs, “can’t even tell you a damn time.”

“Don’t worry about what I do, Peña.” You huff as the three of you walk out of the building towards your Jeep. Javi normally wants to drive, but you’ll be damned if you let him be in charge today. “It’s none of your business who I date or who I take home with me.” You open the door and ignore his frown of annoyance at not taking his vehicle. “He wants to take me out for Valentine’s Day. Big deal.”

Javier rolls his eyes, “yeah. And get laid.” He scoffs and Steve snorts under his breath at this show you’re both putting on. You unlock your Jeep and Javier - who usually always sits in the front - sulks in the back seat as you drive to the lookout point. Your situation ship began on a lookout. Steve was sick so it was just the two of you. You listened to music, smoked, and then you began to talk…which turned into making out…which turned into you riding him in the backseat of his Jeep. Since that night, you had an unspoken agreement that this was colleagues with benefits. At least that’s what Javi thought.

You don’t look in the rear view mirror as you drive, getting a prime parking spot about a hundred yards away from the safe house front door. You park and turn off the engine, settling back into your seat and checking your watch. “Maybe we will finally get lucky.” You murmur to Steve. “And don’t forget I’ve got some crackers in the glovebox.” You tell him, knowing how much he enjoys snacking during stakeout.

Steve nods, “fuck yes.” He leans his elbow on the window and watches Javier in the wing mirror who has a pout on his face at the turn of events. Clearly the man thought you’d pine forever but you’ve decided to take action and Steve can’t disagree with it. Peña can’t drag you along without putting a label on what you’ve been doing. “The intel was bullshit.” Javier scoffs after a few minutes of waiting. “Clearly that jackass just wanted an excuse to get in your pants tonight so he made some shit up.”

You snort and shake your head, reaching for your cigarettes. It’s apparently going to be a day of thinly veiled insults and attitude. “Doubtful.” You say with the cigarette between your lips and you cup your free hand around the lighter since the window is down. “Better chance of getting in my pants if the lead is good.”

Javier rolls his eyes, “didn’t know it was that easy.” He quips, knowing he’s being an asshole but he is hurt that you’ve already moved on so quickly because he didn’t plan a fucking Valentine’s Day dinner. Like this entire situation isn’t life or death. In Laredo, he could relax and take you for a steak dinner, buy you roses, and make you feel special, but this isn’t home. Any moment, Escobar could find you and hurt you. He can’t take the risk.

Your jaw tightens and your eyes flicker to the rear view mirror, finding him looking at you in challenge. His eyes dark and for a split second you swear you see hurt flash through their depths. “Yeah, well, you should see some of the losers I’ve fucked.” You shoot back coolly, taking another puff of your cigarette. “Thoughtless assholes.”

Javier scoffs, shaking his head, and he knows that he won’t win this argument. He’s trying to keep you safe and if you can’t see that, then you aren’t aware of the dangers Escobar poses. He rubs his forehead, checking his watch, and he swears Steve is trying to piss him off as he crunches on stupid fucking crackers.

You don’t say anything else, just keep watch on the slightly rundown house that has newspapers covering the windows. Ever so often, you glance in the mirror at Javi, starting to feel guilty and hurt, and feeling guilty about being hurt. You haven’t had a conversation about what was happening between the two of you, pretending that it would somehow magically define itself. Javier isn’t one to date, that’s obvious and it’s better that you just get over him now before you do something stupid like confess how you feel.

Time seems to drag and Javier taps his fingers on the window sill, watching and waiting for Blackie to appear. Just when he thought Moore really is full of shit, the sicario appears and Javier sits up straight. “Well I’ll be damned.” Steve comments with a mouth full of crackers.

“Damn right.” You sit up and reach for the camera. Wanting to take photos before you move in for the arrest. Knowing that the documentation will be invaluable. “Finish your crackers, Murphy.” You tell him as you look through the lenses and click photo after photo.

Steve crunches enough to make Javier clench his jaw in annoyance and the blonde man knows that. He smirks and takes a sip of his coffee before you set the camera down. “Let’s get this over with.” Javier demands, opening the back door to get out and he pulls out his sunglasses to put them on.

“Well, I guess we are arresting him now.” You huff, setting the camera down and scrambling after Javier out of the truck. Steve is getting out on the other side and you reach behind you to pull your gun out of the holster at the base of your spine. The three of you spread out, knowing that Blackie will either run or start shooting. It’s only a question of which one he chooses.

Javier rolls his eyes at your tone and he pulls his gun from his back, keeping it low as he strides forward to follow Blackie down the alley. The sicario doesn’t see the three of you for several moments until he spins, gun in hand, and he fires it. The bullet whizzes past Javier and he clenches his jaw, taking off after the sicario while shouting at Steve to cut him off on the other side.

“Fuck!” While you know it’s not Javi’s fault, you can’t help but be annoyed at his impatience. It would have been easier to box him in when he was in the house. You take off another route, knowing that the alleyways connect the neighborhood and you don’t want him to slip away.

Javier pants as he chases after Blackie and it happens so fast. His heart beats then stops as Blackie runs down an alley and you are standing there with your gun aimed at the sicario. You fire your weapon, hitting the sicario in the shoulder and he wastes no time firing his gun back at you. By some miracle, the bullet imbeds itself in the wall beside you, and Javier rushes forward, firing his gun but the sicario runs fast, shoving you to the ground, and he turns the corner. Javier doesn't even think as he kneels down to pull you into his arms. "Fuck! Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He rushes out, desperate to hear that you are okay.

You are breathless, both from the near miss that you had and the way you had fallen when Blackie had pushed you down. It takes you a second to be able to talk and you feel Javi’s hand running all over your body, desperately checking for injuries. For a moment, you melt, feeling his worry but then you remember how he had been so cold last night and this morning. You shove him away and push to your knees. “I’m fine.” You hiss, slapping his hand when he reaches for you again. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

He recoils from you and the way you tell him not to touch you. His stomach twists and he shuffles back, holding his hands up. “Fine. Get the fuck up.” He demands now that he knows you’re not hurt. Steve runs towards you, chest heaving, and he shakes his head. “He got away.” Javier hisses, pissed off at the missed opportunity. He smacks his hand on the wall as you stand up and Steve frowns in worry, his blue eyes flicking between you. “Fuck.” He growls, “we lost him.”

You groan and bend down to pick up your gun, dropped when you had been knocked down. “I hit the fucker though.” You report grimly, tucking your gun back into its holster and sighing as you look around to get your bearings. “He’s not going to go back to the safe house.” It pisses you off that once again the sicarios that you’ve been chasing have slipped away. You know you should apologize for being so hateful to Javi, but you don’t. He wouldn’t. Turning around, you start walking back towards your Jeep.

Javier inhales shakily, his heart pounding in his chest, and he takes a second until he follows you. Steve watches him, slapping him on the back, “we will get the fucker.” He promises and Javi nods, trying to think about what went wrong. He could’ve shot the fucker but the thought of missing and shooting you…he couldn’t do it. He approaches your Jeep and Steve is in the driver’s seat. He gets in the back seat, shutting the door. “Can you drop me off at the girls?” Javier asks, knowing that Steve will know what he means.

You hate how your entire body tenses up and your heart aches when he asks that. You snort in disbelief, mostly at yourself and sink down into your passenger seat. Not looking in the mirrors at Javi and counting down the seconds before you can get away from him. Apparently sooner than you had expected.

Everyone is silent as Steve drives through the streets. You had all hoped this would amount to success. Finally some movement but that didn’t happen. Blackie got away. When Steve pulls up outside the unsuspecting home, Javier opens the door and gets out. “Thanks.” He grunts, looking back at you sitting in the front of the car, and when you turn your head, his heart aches. With a nod, he turns on his heel and makes his way into the brothel.

You bite your lip, facing forward and refusing to watch as he knocks on the brothel door and is let inside. Steve sighs but you cross your arms and try to pretend that it doesn’t hurt. “More time for me to get ready for my date.” You manage to say, but it sounds hollow.

****

Thomas guides you into the restaurant, his hand on your lower back, and he’s already told you three times that you look beautiful. It’s sweet but it doesn’t make you shiver like when Javier has murmured it when he’s inside you. Thomas pulls the chair out for you, letting you sit down, and he rushes around the table to take his seat. “I heard that this is the best restaurant in Bogotá.” Thomas says, clearly nervous, and you offer him a smile, “it’s great.” He beams but his smile falters when his eyes widen. You frown, turning your head to see what’s caught his eye and your jaw drops slightly. It’s Javier and he’s brought a date. Javier has his hand on Gabby’s lower back, guiding her over to the table next to you, and he can’t help but smirk at his luck.

Goddamnit. Your heart lurches and your stomach twists. Gabby is lovely, beautiful and kind, but it’s a punch to the gut that he would be insulted at the idea of taking you out to dinner but would bring the woman he pays to have sex with. Forcing yourself to nod to Gabby politely, you don’t acknowledge Javier. You swallow harshly and your eyes snap back towards Thomas. “I need a drink.” You pant, hating how you are hurt and jealous all at the same time.

Thomas nods, unsure of why you look nauseous, and he gestures for the waiter to come over just as Javier sits down on the table next to him, facing you. The waiter comes over and Thomas grins, proudly ordering a bottle of champagne. Javier snorts at the display, and he  knows you’d want a gin and tonic.

You don’t correct him, instead you smile at the gesture and keep your eyes glued to Thomas, almost afraid to look over at Javi. He had apparently found time between rounds with Gabby to change and he looks good. Your cunt clenches and you hate how your body betrays you, knowing that he’s going to go back to the brothel tonight and not be in your bed. “Your tip was good.” You tell Thomas, smiling at him. “I’m going to need you to keep feeding me those tips.” You tease.

The CIA agent smirks, “of course. We got more where that came from. I have plenty of intel…as long as you keep giving me those pretty smiles.” He winks and you giggle. Javier rolls his eyes and Gabby nudges him with her foot, leaning over to take his hand in hers. The waiter brings the bottle of champagne over, popping it, and you soon have a bubbly glass in front of you. “To new partners.” Thomas toasts and lifts his glass.

“To new partners.” You echo, taking a sip of the champagne and hating how sweet it is. Still, you drink half the glass before you set it down, needing the alcohol. “Thank you.” You murmur, watching Javi out of the corner of your eye. You see his and Gabby’s hands intertwined so you reach out and take Thomas’s hand. “This is a very lovely place and the company is even better.” You coo.

The waiter comes over to Javier and Gabby. Your partner orders a whiskey and Gabby gets a vodka soda, squeezing Javier’s hand after she winks at him, knowing that he sees you holding Thomas’s hand. “Thanks for helping me relax earlier.” Javier tells Gabby, picking her hand up to press a kiss to the back of it.

You squeeze the CIA agent’s hand and he frowns slightly. “Everything alright?” He asks, concern lacing his tone. You swallow and smile, ignoring the way your stomach twists since you know exactly how Javier likes to relax. “Just a little sore from earlier.” You admit. “Might need you to help me loosen up.” You give him a suggestive smile.

Javier clenches his jaw and Gabby notices, biting her lip. The waiter sets their drinks down, and Javier immediately picks up his whiskey to take a gulp. Thomas doesn’t notice and smirks, “let’s see how good dinner is and maybe we can get dessert.” He teases and Javier snorts at the lame response. If it was him, he’d be charming you, telling you how he would help you loosen up.

You giggle and slap at Thomas’s hand playfully. “Such a gentleman.” You coo, trying to play it up. “Dessert will be the best part of the night, I promise.” You had made sure your dress was sexy and your make-up alluring. You lean forward slightly to give him a better look at your tits. Opening your menu so you can look at the choices and let him gawk.

His eyes drop down and he swallows harshly. Javier also drops his gaze to your tits and he narrows his eyes. You look fucking gorgeous and he knows it could’ve been him sitting opposite you if he only had the balls to do what he should’ve done. Now he’s sitting opposite Gabby who agreed to help him in his ridiculous plan. “What do you want to eat, Javi?” Gabby asks him, “or should we just skip straight to dessert?” She asks, smirking as she leans closer to him. Her tits pushed together and Thomas’s gaze drifts over to her chest.

“Oooooh, should we have some oysters?” You ask, looking up as Thomas immediately looks back at you, his cheeks flushed at being caught looking at another woman. You don’t say anything, just slide your foot out of your shoe and reach out under the table to rub it against his ankle. Wanting his attention on you. “You know what they say about oysters.” You giggle.

Javier wants to roll his eyes but he doesn’t. He knows when you are genuinely attracted to someone, and he knows you’re forcing the flirting. “Uh, oysters. Yeah.” Thomas nods lamely, making Javier chuckle under his breath at the boring response.

You hear the laugh and your eyes snap over to Javier. Your jaw tight as you glare at him, “what was that, Peña?” You hiss, annoyed that he’s here. He’s distracting you and clouding your thoughts when you should be trying to get over his stupid mustache and the way his cologne smells.

Javier shrugs, “nothing. Just think you shouldn’t be on a date if you need an aphrodisiac to get the blood flowing.” He quips, smirking at Gabby, “oysters ain’t doing anything for me to get it up.”

“You prick.” You hiss, twisting in your chair to glare at Javi. The smug asshole just flicks his eyes over to you in amusement, happy he’s riled you up. “Why the fuck are you even here?” You demand. “It’s Valentine’s Day. Why would you take anyone to dinner on Valentine’s Day?” Your words are dripping with sarcasm as you completely forget about your own date.

Thomas frowns, confused by your annoyance. He thought that you and Javier were just partners…work colleagues. “Gabby is important to me.” Javier counters, “I’ve known her a long time. As for being here…well, I heard this was the best restaurant in Bogotá.”

His jab hits its intended mark and you inhale sharply. “Asshole.” Gabby was important to him, special enough to want to spend time outside of a bedroom. But you were just a convenient fuck. You know that he has to be paying her to take her to dinner and it hurts worse than you expected to learn that he would rather pay for companionship than to do more than fuck you. You turn back towards Thomas, a little desperate. “Do you want to get out of here?” You ask.

Thomas sees how upset you are and he isn’t stupid. He connects the dots. You’re fucking Javier and this date is to make him jealous. He shakes his head, standing up and he pulls his wallet from his pants. “That’s for the champagne. I don’t know what’s going on now but I’m not going to be in the middle of whatever the fuck this is.” He scoffs and tosses some cash down. He looks at Javier, “I don’t know what she sees in you.” He says and strides from the table, shaking his head. Javier scoffs, unable to believe he left like that but he’s also secretly pleased.

You sit there for a moment, staring at the money he had thrown down. Embarrassed and ashamed of how this night has turned out. Your cheeks feel like they are on fire and worse you can feel the tears starting to build in your eyes. “Shit.” You leap up and rush towards the bathroom, unwilling to let Javi see you cry.

Javier watches you rush off and his eyes flick back to Gabby. “Go after her.” She urges and he nods, shifting to stand up. He follows you to the bathroom, knocking on the door. “Hermosa.” He  calls after clearly his throat. He says your name, wanting you to know he’s serious about talking to you.

“Go away, Javi.” You beg, closing your eyes as you try to stop yourself from crying. Of course he doesn’t listen to you and you hear the door open. You press your eyes together harder as you bend over at the sink. “Please just go away.”

He sees you bent over the sink and his heart clenches. “Not until you tell me why you accepted going on a date with that CIA prick. He’s never going to be what you need. Why’d you put yourself through that when you know he could never make you feel like I do. That limp prick couldn’t make you cum like I do.”

That pisses you off and pushes the tears away for a second. You whirl around and glare at him. “The great Javier Peña.” You hiss, poking him in the chest with your finger. “God’s gift to women’s orgasms.” You snort and step away from him. “Sometimes a woman wants more than just a fucking orgasm.” You inform him. “Unless she’s getting paid to fake them.” You smirk coldly. “Enjoy your night with Gabby.” You turn around and walk out of the women’s bathroom, ready to go the fuck home and pretend tonight didn’t happen.

Javier huffs, rubbing his chest, and he knows he’s fucked up. He lets you go, knowing you’ll be okay to get home, and he makes his way outside to Gabby. He follows Thomas’s lead and he tosses some cash down onto the table. “I’m taking you home.” He says and she nods, grabbing her purse. When Javier is driving her back to her place, she turns to look at him. “I wondered why you haven’t been fucking me for a while. Only coming to pay me for intel. It was her. She clearly loves you. Why the hell didn’t you take her to dinner tonight?” Gabby asks and Javier adjusts his hands on the steering wheel. “It’s complicated. I- I’m too fucking complicated for her.” He admits his deepest thoughts.

Gabby snorts and shakes her head. “Men.” She scoffs. “You don’t think she’s complicated? She’s a female DEA agent in Colombia. Tracking down the same dangerous men that you say make you too complicated.” He sighs and she doesn’t cut him any slack. “What do you think they would do to her if they caught her? You don’t think she knows that? She lives with that everyday and the man she loves would rather push her away than risk it?” She reaches over and touches his hand. “Don’t do that to her. Don’t do that to both of you.”

Javier clenches his jaw, imagining too many times what could happen to you if one of Escobar’s men got hold of you. He shudders slightly and Gabby notices but doesn’t say anything. “I’ve fucked up. She hates me now. I took you to dinner after telling her what we had was just sex. She’ll never forgive me.” He murmurs and Gabby scoffs, “she loves you. Get some damn roses and get your ass over to her place to apologize. Grovel.” She adds, “all women like a man who begs.” She smirks and Javier nods, knowing it’s going to be impossible to find roses this time of night but he’s going to try. He drops Gabby off at her place, thanking her, and she refuses the money until he shoves it in her hand. She kisses his cheek and soon he’s speeding to find a florist. There’s one still open and when he strides in, he asks for roses at the same time another man asks for them. “I was here first.” The man argues and Javier tilts his head, reaching for his wallet, “I’ll pay more.” The shop owner glances between the men. “What if you both take six?” She suggests and Javier knows it’s not the grand gesture he was after but it will have to do. He nods and pays, rushing back to his Jeep and soon, he’s standing on your doorstep. His heart pounds as he waits for you to answer the door.

You’ve kicked off your shoes and are spoon deep in a pint of rocky road, trying to bury yourself in ice cream to make yourself feel better. Wallowing in misery, you know tomorrow will be horrible. Thomas is hurt by your selfishness. Using him to get over Javi and he didn’t deserve that. He was a good guy, for being CIA. You fucked up and what’s worse is that you know Javi will be enjoying his night with Gabby, not even giving you a second thought. Dipping the spoon into the carton, you sniffle slightly and then freeze when you hear a knock on your door. You sigh, wondering who the fuck it is and contemplate ignoring it before you get up. Setting the ice cream down, you reach for your gun as you peek through the hole and see Javi.

When you open the door, Javier winces, knowing that you are pissed at him...rightly so...and he holds the flowers up for you to see. "Please don't shut the door." He pleads and you huff, pulling the door back after you try to slam it on him. Your eyes drift down to the roses and you scoff, "couldn't get a dozen?" You ask, wanting to act like a bitch, and Javier chuckles dryly, "yeah. Could only find one florist open and the flowers were split between me and another stupid bastard."

“Stupid is right.” You snort, hating that you are  already softening and opening the door wider so he can come in. “What are you doing here, Peña?” You demand. “Shouldn’t you be showing Gabby how you don’t need oysters to get it up?”

He walks into your apartment before you can tell him to get the fuck out and he sighs, “I was trying to make you jealous. I…I was jealous that you were out with Moore. I was jealous as fuck and I figured - it was fucking stupid. I wanted to make you jealous and I realized this entire situation is my fault because I should’ve asked you to dinner before all of this happened but I was a coward. I’m terrified to - to make this real because if something happens to you, I won’t forgive myself and I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it. I think I’d kill every sicario in Colombia with my bare hands if anything happened to you and that scares the shit out of me. To know that you are the person I love the most…to lose you. It would kill me. I thought if I acted like you didn’t mean anything to me that you’d get sick of my shit and move on and when that happened - I couldn’t handle it.” He rambles more than you’ve ever heard since you met him and he inhales deeply when he’s done.

You inhale sharply, eyes wide at his confession. “You love me?” You whisper and he nods, shifting nervously as he still holds the six roses in his hand like a lifeline. Reaching out, you slap at his chest. “You love me?” You hiss, although it’s more out of frustration than anger. “You love me and you let me think that I meant nothing to you? Just an easy fuck you didn’t have to pay for and you love me?”

Javier shakes his head, "I was trying to protect you. Jesus Christ, I thought - I thought I was protecting you from my bullshit. I didn't want to hurt you but I did anyway and I - I am sorry." He promises, "hermosa...I want you. I love you, but if you want me to go. I'll go."

“I don’t want you to go.” You slap his chest again and your hand rests there as you look into your eyes. “But I don’t want to be your second choice.” You admit softly. “You’ve already been with Gabby today. I don’t-“ you break off, unsure how to explain you didn’t want to have sloppy seconds.

"I didn't fuck her. I haven't...not since before we started having sex." He promises, "I wouldn't do that to you. Especially since we haven't used a condom. I am many things but I am not that big of an asshole." He shrugs one shoulder, shuffling the roses in his hand.

“You didn’t?” You frown in confusion. “You said that she had helped you relax.” You remind him. “Only fucking time I’ve ever seen you relaxed is right after you’ve cum.”

Javier can't help but blush a little, ducking his chin, "I didn't - she just let me talk about anything and everything. She didn't even hug me. I vented and asked if she would go to dinner with me." He confesses, "I wanted to make you jealous." He sighs, "and I was being a prick."

You wilt at his embarrassed confession. He had just tried to make you jealous. “It worked.” You admit. “I was furious, and jealous. I wanted to claw Gabby’s eyes out, and I like Gabby.” You’ve talked to the prostitute many times, double checking on intel Javi’s received or just checking on her woman to woman. You know she’s in a rough line of work.

Javier’s heart jerks at the news that you were jealous of Gabby. “She’s one of the best.” He agrees, “and she told me it was a stupid idea. It was stupid. I love you, baby. I should’ve told you that long ago and I should’ve taken you to dinner tonight. Can you give me another chance? Dinner tomorrow?”

You bite your lip, watching his eyes. They are dark and worried that you might say no. “I had honestly expected you to say something like you would buy me a hot dog.” You admit with a small laugh. It’s something of an inside joke because every time you worked late at Steve’s apartment, Connie would make you hot dogs. It was an innocent joke and some levity that you all sorely needed. “I don’t need anything fancy.”

Javier chuckles and shakes his head, "you're worth more than a hot dog." He promises, "you are everything. I want to show you that." He steps closer, unsure if you want him to touch you or if you need some space.

“Then show me.” You challenge him, biting back a smirk. You reach out and take his hand. “I love you, Javier.” You murmur softly.

Javier sets the flowers down on your table and pulls you into him. He smiles as he leans in to softly kiss you. "I love you, hermosa." He promises, pressing his lips to yours again to deepen the kiss.

You wind your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you as you let him take control. Moaning softly when he licks into your mouth, the previous anger and upset forgotten as his mouth fuses to yours.

Javier groans as his tongue slides against yours. His hands are greedy as they squeeze your ass and he missed you. As ridiculous as it sounds, he’s missed you during the time you were fighting. He guides you backwards through your apartment to your bedroom and his hands immediately find the zipper of your dress, pulling it down. You let it drop to the floor without hesitation and Javier pulls back to look at you. “Lingerie? Was this for that prick?”

“It was for myself.” You shrug, knowing that it’s not necessary to worry about it now. “But if I felt like I could have gone through with it….” You honestly don’t know if you would have been able to sleep with Thomas, but now you are able to stand in front of the man you had envisioned when putting it on.

Javier growls, jealousy making his heart clench, "well, he ain't gonna see this. Only I get to see you looking this fucking sexy." He commands, grabbing your ass to lift you onto the bed.

Your squeal of surprise turns into a giggle as he drops you on the bed. “Is that right?” You prop up on your elbows and smirk at him. “You think I look sexy like this, baby?”

He chuckles, nodding at you, and he fingers the lace of your bra. "Goddamn mouthwatering." He promises, "not that you aren't always the sexiest woman in the damn city but you look like a fucking dessert right now." He murmurs, bending down to take your nipple into his mouth through the lace.

You whimper at the wet heat of his mouth on you. Moaning softly when he runs his tongue over the entire area to wet it more. “Javi- fuck.” You run your fingers through his hair and sigh blissfully when he climbs on top of you and you feel the weight of him on top of you again. “Want you naked.”

He chuckles against your breast, sucking on your nipple, and you whine. Your protest makes him lean back on his haunches and he unbuttons his shirt, exposing his chest for your hungry eyes. He shrugs it off and shuffles off the bed so he can kick off his shoes and unbutton his pants. His half hard cock exposed when he shoves them down and kicks them aside.

“I love that you never wear underwear.” You eye his cock greedily. He’s impressive even when he’s not fully hard, just overall beautiful in your opinion. And now you know that he is all yours.

Javier kneels on the bed again, leaning down to kiss your stomach, and his hands caress your thighs. He wants to taste you. Be wants to hear you cry his name. He kisses down to your mound, nuzzling his nose against the lace covering it, and he shifts lower, pushing your thighs apart so he can press a soft kiss to your clit through the material.

“Javi.” It’s not like you haven’t had oral. Javi hasn’t been selfish when you’ve been together. It’s more than fucking has taken priority over oral. He’s the type of man who would rather be inside your pussy than in your mouth. “You don’t have to.”

He smirks as he looks up at you while he hooks his fingers into the crotch so he can pull them aside. “I know.” He promises before he leans in to slide his tongue through your folds. The tip of his tongue flicks over your clit and he loves the way you cry out and your fingers tangle in his hair.

Shivers race through your body as he dives into you. Javier never does things by half and he feels like he is trying to devour you, pussy first. His tongue alternates between running along your folds and flicking over your clit with teasing, playful motions. It makes you moan as you grind your hips down on his face.

He loves the way you grind onto his face and he moans when you tug on his hair to push his face deeper into your pussy. He sucks your clit into his mouth, loving the way you squeal, and his cock aches as he grinds slowly into the mattress.

He’s obviously trying to kill you. You pant softly as he works his tongue deeper inside you after finally letting your clit go. “Fuck, Javi.” You moan. “So good baby, you make me feel so good.”

Your moan goes straight to his cock and he hisses into your pussy, making your hips jerk. His hands squeeze your thighs, pushing them further apart, and he loves the way you moan his name. He wants to push you over the edge.

All you can hear is Javi lapping at your cunt and your answering moans. Everything outside is muted, forgotten. Even Pablo Escobar and your hunt for him is pushed aside for the way every flick of his tongue makes you want to weep in bliss. “So close, baby, I’m gonna cum.” You babble through the sounds of praise, rocking desperately against his tongue. “Gonna cum!”

You cry out moments later, your thighs squeezing his head, and he groans as he eagerly laps up your slick. His cock now throbbing into the sheets and he works you through until you’re pushing his head away. He kisses your mound, hooking his fingers in the lace panties to drag them down your legs.

“I need you to fuck me.” You are reaching for him, lunging up and pressing your lips to his. Not caring that he tastes like you, that his lips are still wet with your juices. Your hand wraps around his cock and you groan into his mouth when you feel the precum that has beaded up. “I need you right now baby. More than I need air.” 

He feels like he’s gonna explode if he doesn’t fuck you. He groans when you squeeze his cock and shuffles closer. “Fuck, hermosa. I’m here. I’m here.” He promises, letting you guide his cock to your entrance and he slowly starts to push into you. “Goddamn.” He hisses, shifting to his forearms and he ducks his head down to kiss you.

It’s perfect. He’s perfect. Your nails are shorter than you’d want, but they still dig into the meat of his shoulders as he presses into you. Filling you up with a steady determination that has you letting out a curse. “Fuuuuuuuck.” You whine. “No one ever filled me up like you do. So fucking thick.” You praise breathlessly. “Feels like you’re in my fucking guts when you are pounding away.”

Javier twitches inside you at your breathless praise and he loves it. "Baby. Shit. Baby." He pants, starting to move and he kisses along your neck, "so goddamn tight and - and so fucking perfect." He grunts, knowing he's not usually one for talking during sex but you always have him rambling.

You hold him close, letting him set the pace. The sex is still perfect. Maybe more so since you know there is love behind every kiss and roll of Javi’s hips. “You are perfect.” You moan. “Even when you piss me off, I want you.”

He chuckles, kissing your jaw, "that's a good thing because I know it happens a lot." You smirk and he bites your lip, dragging it as he thrusts harder, making you whine. He releases your lip and kisses you, "you are everything. Gotta keep you safe. I'll burn this entire fucking place down to find Escobar if anything happens to you." He vows, "but that ain't gonna happen because I won't let it." He promises against your lips.

“It won’t happen.” You promise breathlessly, rocking your hips up to meet his pace. You can’t guarantee it, but you do everything you can to come home every day. “I love you, Javi.”

"Love you too." He murmurs, shifting to bury his face in your neck. He breathes in your perfume, rocking his hips, and he shifts to his knees and you cry out at the change in angle. He groans at the way you clench around him so he focuses on that angle, wanting to feel you cum for him.

It doesn’t take long for that knot to coil in your stomach. So close to cumming that your thighs tighten around him, afraid he might pull away. “Baby-“ his next thrust pushes you over the edge and you clamp down around his lengths, crying out wordlessly.

When you cum, he groans into your skin, working you through it, and he rocks into you until you stop shaking beneath him. He slides his hands under your ass, lifting you as he shuffles onto his haunches, and he sinks deeper into your pussy. "Shit, hermosa." He pants, starting to rock you on top of his cock.

You whine in agreement. He feels so good inside you. You lean up on your elbows and watch as he fucks you. “Sometime I wonder how you fit.” You moan, clenching down around him and making him hiss in pleasure. “So fucking thick.”

“You take every inch. Like you’re made for me.” He promises, watching his cock disappear inside your dripping cunt. He grunts, getting lost in the sensation, and his eyes flick up to yours. “You’re perfect.” He promises, slowing his pace. He wants you to cum again for him. “How do you want it?” He asks, wanting you to decide how you cum next.

Your brow furrows for a moment, unsure of what he means until it dawns on you. “Hands and knees.” You beg. “I want you to wreck me. Make me realize that I’m still alive. I could have died today.”

How can he deny you when you remind him of what he nearly lost. He nods, pulling out of you, and you shuffle onto your hands and knees. He groans, squeezing your ass and spreading your cheeks. He can’t help it, he leans down to spit onto your puckered hole, watching it slide between your cheeks until it pools at your cunt. “Amor.” He murmurs, gripping his cock and shuffling closer until he’s pushing into you again .

Your gasp is needy, already rocking your hips back when he fills you. You need this, desperate to feel alive and like you are not alone. That you have him. Your fingers dig into the sheets and you moan his name. “Javi.”

Javier grips your hips, dragging you back onto his cock as he thrusts deep. Your cry makes him chuckle and he smacks your ass, watching it jiggle. "Fuck. You're here." He promises, "and I am yours. You're mine. This pussy is mine."

“Yours, baby.” You echo, eyes rolling back as he drives into you. “All yours, just yours.” You are his, despite trying to get over him. You’ll never get over Javier Peña. “Fuck, baby, mooooore.”

He grunts, wrapping his arm around your waist, and he drags you up and back into his chest. He kisses your shoulder, nipping the skin as he thrusts into you in a new angle.

You turn your head and kiss along his jaw, holding on as he makes your tits shake as he fucks you. “Kiss me.” You beg, wanting his lips on yours. “Javi, kiss me.”

Javier groans your name before he kisses you. He thrusts deep and hard, wanting you to feel every inch of him, to make sure you feel alive. His tongue slides against yours and it's sloppy but he twitches inside you at how good it feels.

Your hands grab at his, holding you tight and he curls his fingers through yours. Holding your hand as both of you try to race towards the finish line as quickly as you can with every thrust.

Javier groans into your mouth, no longer kissing just exchanging air, and he breathes you in like a man needing oxygen. You are his lifeline. He squeezes your hand over your breast, grunts escaping through his gritted teeth as he works you higher. He needs you to cum for him now.

Your eyes close and every push of his hips rockets you closer. Spearing up into your soaking walls with devastating accuracy until you are stiffening in his arms. “Oh fuck, oh fuck Javi!” You cry out. “Jaaaaaaviiiiiiii!”

Javi groans when you clamp down onto his cock and practically scream his name, making him hiss. He pants, wrapping his other arm around you to keep you close and he pushes up into you, pace sloppy and fast as he seeks his orgasm. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He growls and finally he lets out a low groan as he pulses inside you. He paints your walls, eyes squeezed shut as his orgasm surges through him.

Javi lets you collapse forward, following you and pressing you down to the bed. Both of you are panting and trying to catch your breath. “I love you.” You murmur softly, smiling to yourself as his spent cock twitches inside you. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Javier.”

Javier smiles, “I promise to take you out for an actual dinner tomorrow. And every night from now on, I’ll show you how much I love you, hermosa.” He vows, leaning in to kiss your neck after he shifts you both to your side.

“As long as we are together, I don’t care what we do.” You promise, reaching out and caressing his cheek. “Stay the night?” You ask softly, knowing that he might still want to go home and sleep on his own bed. He normally did after fucking you.

He nods, curling around you after his cock falls from your soaked cunt. “I’ll stay the night.” He promises, “and I gotta put the roses in water.” He teases, making you giggle. “Happy Valentine’s Day, hermosa.” He murmurs between kisses on your shoulder. “One to remember.” You hum and he hums against your skin. He’s made many mistakes since he arrived in Colombia but he’s not going to lose you. Not again.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

Zae!!!!! (you know me, this is going to be long lmaooo)

That was so incredibly hot I'm not even kidding. I have so many things to say and it still won't do justice to how incredible reading Evanescence was.

First of all, I want to say just how funny that cut was between the woman from Doyle's Tavern insulting him and asking for money in exchange for information to Arthur walking out with said info, all his money and a ban from the Tavern?? Idk it just made me laugh out loud for real 😂. Alright, now more serioulsy—

"Instinct lured him to the debauched inn, and your name frothed from his muzzle in more of a growl than speech. Like a rabid dog, he snapped and barked orders at the women unlucky enough to be trapped with the beast on the arena floor."

Looove that section and the paragraph after. Fellow figurative lovers, we are spoiled. And Jesus am I completely insane for finding the whole thing even hotter with a bestial, animalistic Arthur like this? Perfect comparison.

And the whole ring part! Their entire relationship is SO well written and so well balanced. You had shared your doubts with me about how to write an LH, but my GOD, this was absolutely perfect. GIVE YOURSELF MORE CREDIT I'M BEGGING YOU!!

His intrinsic violence, his possessiveness that dominates him in spite of himself is so in character, and YET, we love it, we love him, just as always.

I so love all the nuances you described in both him and the Reader. She's aware of the problems in their relationship and wants to fight him; she refuses to make things easy for him and give him what he wants. She loves him and hates him so much at the same time... And Arthur, all his impulsiveness, his brutality make us think he's looking for control at all costs; in the end, it's just the only way he can react to the fact that it's him who's completely in love with her and under her thumb. Brilliant. The dialogue in this part is really perfect, with Arthur repeating the “Yours” more and more surely. *sighs*

“You don’t own me, Arthur Morgan!” But the shouting was no use. He closed in on you again, and you reached out, clenching your fists in his shirt to stop his advance. If he noticed, he didn’t let on, talking with a tight jaw. “No, dammit, cause you own me.”

And the wild kiss right after! The whole prey and predator game, so so good. You know I'm suuuuch a sucker for these kinds of comparisons. And the way they're fighting each other but getting closer at the same time... So, so erotic.

And EXCUSEEEE ME, Reader insulting him as they succomb to it? I am so into this. God it made my body feel all sorts of ways 🥵🔥

He knew you were dancing dangerously close to the cliff’s overhang by the way you were keeping him in place, right where you wanted him. But the brute stopped and locked eyes with you, lips curved downward. That slight glimpse of vulnerability you thought you’d seen earlier was now on full display. “Say you won’t go,” he choked out.  Down on his knees, looking up at you with genuine sincerity was the closest he’d ever get to prayer or penance. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat but didn’t answer him.

Oh. My. Lord. I could DIE from this simple vision. This is just incredibly hot and so good to read; I wasn't expecting him to actually be the dominated one here. (Big boys just want to be taken care of, don't they?🤭😉)

And Jesus, how do you achieve that Zae? Because the part after was even better!!! Honestly, I was already choking here, and then that:

“No good, thieving, murderous bastard.”  “I know.” He drew out, tightly clutching the sheets. With a firm nudge, you urged him onto his back.  “You don’t deserve me. Never did,” you continued. His hips jutted in time with your wrist, his climax sitting low in his balls.   “I–dammit–I–kn–know.” The muscles of his stomach constricted as he fought for breath, damn near suffocating under your touch.  “I’ll change.” He gasped, eyes closed, and brow furrowed. “I’ll change. But–ahh–I ain’t ever gonna be good enough for you, woman–nghh–no matter how much changin’ I do.”

I AM DEAD!!!! I loved this part so much I think I read it four times already!!! I mean come on guys, the dialogue, every word sounds so fcking good, perfectly transcribing his voice, making him spit out he's indeed too bad for her, and her stroking him like this, him babbling that he'll change? I'm getting all excited again just talking about it 🫠 This is definitely one of my favorite fic moments, ever.

And of course, as always, the grandiose climax, with once again the predator comparison but with HER as a lioness???? ZAE MARRY ME. This was absolute perfection. And even better, the second echo with him finishing inside, while she asserts "Yours". I just can't with that level of perfection, of masterfulness. This is mind-blowing, Zae. You really made me lose my mind with this one.

The last words also struck me; they are so relevantly bitter-sweet. An ideal ending for this nuanced relationship. You're forever inspiring me.

To conclude, one of my new favorites of yours (yes I knoooow every new one is becoming one of my favorites of yours, but hell I'm just a girl and you're still so incredibly talented!). I'm left in awe of your talent, every time, and here especially with such a subtle LH Arthur. Please, be proud, because you really did him justice. Bravo, bravo, bravo.

Love u! -Your loyal Piney 💞

Evanesce

Summary: You try to runway. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 3,673 Tags: angst, smut, mid-low honor Arthur, handjob, unprotected p in v, oral, breeding kink, tb? Don’t know her. Warnings: 18+ MDNI, toxic relationship

An: I feel like I ran a never ending marathon with this one. Drafted it a month ago, but I never really vibed with it. Challenged myself to just get it done and make sure I was proud of it. Once again, I'm trying to step out of my comfort zone. Shout out to @googoolies for the note idea! As always, I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

Tagging @hihomeghere because you asked ❤️

Evanesce: to dissipate like vapor

Worn floorboards of Shady Bell wailed under Arthur’s weight as songbirds began their morning melodies. The gunslinger scoped the eerily empty, quiet camp for traces of you, but all he found was a folded letter on his pillow.

Echoes of your last conversation flashed in his mind as he tramped across the narrow room to retrieve the note. Two nights ago, The Old Guard overlooked their kingdom from the second-floor balcony as they discussed their plans to wage war against Angelo Bronte. Bile stung the back of your throat as two-thirds of the trio outruled the other. Hosea’s final words to Dutch and Arthur, “You’ll damn us all,” filled you with dread and the overwhelming feeling of impending doom.

Arthur avoided your shadowed eyes as he reloaded his weapons and ignored your outcry against Dutch’s plan. Your desperation had turned swiftly to indignation, and an argument commenced, your voices clashing like swords. You begged him not to go, pleading with the enforcer to listen to reason for once, to listen to you. But he pushed back with the shield of obstinance he had long forged for survival. 

“I don’t take orders from you, woman, and keep your goddamn voice down.”

Thousands of tiny needles pricked at the backs of your eyes at the harsh directive, but you held firm. 

“Arthur, if you go I’ll–” 

“Don’t,” he warned dismissively, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and ambling to the door. He didn’t even bother saying goodbye as he twisted the knob. Your last words fell on ears deafened from years of gunfire. 

“If you leave, I won’t be here when you come back.”

Two days later, Arthur masked his guilt with anger as he skimmed over the last piece of you left in the room. Four words in the polite loops of your handwriting taunted him: Saint Denis. Train. Running. 

After a quick check of the cinch, he found himself begrudgingly engulfed in the city of smog and greed he’d come to hate so much. Riding through the maze of cobblestone, brick, and vermin was like laying under a guillotine, staring up at the blade and waiting for it to drop. Law on every corner, people jammed together, and now, Bronte’s men out for revenge–none of it felt right.��

Taking in a breath that didn’t reach deep enough, he started his search for you in this hornets’ nest of a city. Most of the hotels and saloons served him with nothing but a heavy dose of adrenaline and dead ends. As he approached Doyle’s Tavern, his last stop, he dug his nails into his trembling palm, savoring the sting of apathy that came with the pain.

Arthur made a beeline to Gabe Doyle, reciting his rehearsed description of you. A woman standing beside him, whose garments had seen cleaner days, tapped him on the shoulder. The outlaw didn’t even look at her, didn’t give her time to speak before he rejected her with razor-edge disdain. When Arthur finished, Gabe only shrugged his shoulders, but the woman, still standing close by, let out a derisive giggle.

“He won’t be of no help, mista’. Coulda’ told ya’ for free, but it’ll cost ya’ now.”

Ire made his ears ring, drowning out all the other sounds in the slum’s saloon. He drummed his fingers hard on the worn wooden bar, the taste of pride sour on his tongue. 

“How much?” 

Cleavage spilled over her top as she leaned towards him and twiddled brazenly with the collar of his shirt. 

“Well, for clients that play nice, seven dollars, but for you, rotten dirty bastard––times it by ten.” 

A minute later, he exited Doyle’s Tavern not a cent lighter, heavy with an indefinite ban, but finally, a real lead on you. Four new mocking words overshadowed ones from the letter: Whore house; Courtenay Street. 

A brothel—a goddamn brothel. 

Instinct lured him to the debauched inn, and your name frothed from his muzzle in more of a growl than speech. Like a rabid dog, he snapped and barked orders at the women unlucky enough to be trapped with the beast on the arena floor.

They tried futilely to stop his march down the hall, tried to keep him from getting to you, but the chaos drew you into the colosseum and into the lion’s direct line of sight. You yanked the man-turned-animal by the sleeve and sealed yourselves away before he could do any more damage. 

More tame now, sea storm orbs surveyed you in a quick but covert once over, then he spun on his heel, searching for anything else to focus on.

“Christ, been looking for you all day, woman,” he bit out through clenched teeth. 

The lone wolf prowled the new territory for a threat but was only met with a vacant cave and the empty feeling of shame. Deflecting, he found your luggage, lifting the bags with the practiced ease of carrying buckets of water to and fro. His biceps flexed with the weight of your whole life in one bag, but he nodded at you, matter of fact. 

“C’mon. M’taking you home.”

Home. You could’ve laughed if it didn’t hurt so much. None of these places had ever been home.

“I ain’t going nowhere with you,” you fired back, grabbing for the suitcase in his hand. A brief game of tug-of-war ensued, your grip relentless, Arthur’s unwavering, until he finally let you pull one of the bags free. He dropped the other and exhaled with the sharpness of a saber but stayed silent at the conclusion of your weaponless duel. He’d fallen in love with that gnawing defiance, but now it was tearing him to pieces, bit by bit until it exposed the marrow of pure anger.

“Runnin’ off is one thing.” His nostrils flared, and the timbre of his voice deepened as he carried on, “But running off t’here–– selling yourself?” He shook his head and blew air through his teeth, “Yer crazier than I thought.”

You whirled away from him, swatting your hand like he was as insignificant as a fly.

“And you’re a bigger idiot than I thought. Ain’t selling myself, you damn fool! And I’ll do whatever the hell I please. Right now, I want to get far away from this shit city and you.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, dragging out the words. “I know you just as well as you think you know me. If you wanted away–really wanted away–you wouldn’t’ve left this pretty little letter, and sure as hell wouldn’t’ve told me where to find ya’.” He retrieved the letter from his satchel, held it up just long enough for you to see, and crushed it in his fist before discarding it on the floor.

“That’s what I think of your pretty little letter.” 

You had started a slow involuntary backtrack during his monologue, the flight response pushing back against the fight. He followed, sandwiching you between himself and the door.

“Screw you.” Scorn was hot on your breath.   

Just as you thought to turn the knob, to free yourself from the prison of flesh and wood, the iron teeth of a bear trap, his fingers, clamped around your wrist, bringing your hand to eye level. 

“And you still got something of mine.”

Both pairs of eyes landed on a small round sparkling opal set in a gold band on your left ring finger.

You’d never forget finding it on your pillow along with a letter from Arthur that just said, “One day…”

He had made promises he didn’t keep. First, you just had to wait for the Ferry Job. Next, you needed to survive Colter. Then you had to get far away from the Pinkertons, and most recently, all you needed to do was help case the Lemoyne National Bank. One last job, he’d told you. It was the same thing he said before leaving for that boat in Blackwater.

Contempt flowed through your veins as you tried to wrench free. God, you hated him right now, but you hated yourself more for letting him fool you.

“Let go.” You hissed, seething. 

Your hand throbbed as he gave your wrist another squeeze.

“You first.” Then he nodded towards the stone on your finger. “My ring,” he demanded.

Your knuckles collided with the wood of the door with a hard knock as you freed your hand. You flattened your palm against the wood behind your back, guarding the ring from the career thief’s piercing gaze.

“No,” you shot back, sinking into yourself. “It’s mine.” 

Your finger throbbed around the ring you’d seldom taken off. It had become part of you, melded to your skin like a vine coiled around a tree in a beautiful and deadly embrace. 

“Yours?” he huffed incredulously, shaking his head, trying to form your words into something he could understand. For a short beat, the heavy huff and puff of his breath was the only thing you could register. 

You had mined forever to find something other than cold coals of anger within him. You thought you’d found it—thought you’d finally struck gold when he confessed his feelings for you somewhere out west all that time ago. Now, you were left wondering if it was only fool’s gold you had stumbled upon. The cowardly knight was far too proud and far too afraid of getting stabbed to lay down his armor. But you were having a silent conversation with those sad eyes, reading words he’d never speak or ask aloud. What does that make me, then? 

“Yours.” He answered his inner thoughts without hesitation.

Mine. You thought back but only stared at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of cracking under his scrutiny. 

“Yours.” He repeated assuredly, final. 

It was your turn to shake your head now; you could hear his vocal cords vibrating, generating sounds you were supposed to understand, but he may as well have been speaking another language because what the hell did he know about being anybody else’s? You repeated your thoughts bluntly.

For a moment, he looked stunned, but then his hand shot out, cupping your jaw and tilting your face toward his. He was so close, you could smell him now. The scents of liquor on his breath and leather in his hat permeated your whole being.

“You don’t think–” His voice was low and trembling with fury. “I been yours since the goddamn day I laid eyes on you, and you know it.”

Fight, flight, freeze, and now fawn all warred for dominance. Twin mirrors of blue cosmos peered into your soul, but you didn’t look back, knowing that black holes of destruction ruled in the center and could swallow you in the blink of an eye.

“You have to go, Arthur.”

You tried to reach for the knob again, but Arthur imposed on you further, his chest brushing against yours. 

“No,” he said. “I ain’t going nowhere without you, and you ain’t going nowhere without me. M’done talking about it.”

It’s like he couldn’t listen, couldn’t hear you, couldn’t respect what you wanted. He only ever responded to shouting and violence. So you dipped down to his level, anything to get him to understand. Your open hand pushed full force against his chest, knocking the wind from him and making him stumble backward.

“You don’t own me, Arthur Morgan!”  

But the shouting was no use. He closed in on you again, and you reached out, clenching your fists in his shirt to stop his advance. If he noticed, he didn’t let on, talking with a tight jaw.

“No, dammit, cause you own me.” 

You balled your fists around cotton fabric and pulled him down into you, inhaling like you were bracing for the worst. This game, Predator and Prey, had become second nature to you. You would always be his fawn, thrashing and wailing, yet never escaping the salivating jaws of the coyote. And it always ended the same: a clash of heavy breathing and snarls before you surrendered.

Tobacco and whiskey never tasted so good, and they were just as addictive as him. Your teeth clashed together, and his left hand fell to your hip while his right twisted the lock on the knob. 

He was never gentle, but now, he was almost crazed. Rough hands that were trembling only an hour ago were all over you, gripping your jaw, sliding under your blouse, pushing and pulling you to his whim.

“Falling in love with you was the dumbest thing I ever did,” you confessed as he removed his hat and set it aside; he had better access to you without it. Heat surged through you as his hands bit into your hips, pinning you in place against the locked door. 

You mumble under your breath, “Bastard.”  

So far, he was ignoring your attempts to rouse him; you were his pretty little doe, caught in his chops, and a few barbs wouldn’t keep him from utterly devouring you. Dipping his head into your neck, he fixated on that pulsing artery, taking no time to roll the flesh between his teeth.

“Goddamn asshole,” you huffed but cradled his head as he claimed you.

He brushed over the ruptured blood vessels with his knuckles, and the bastard was smiling, eyes glazed over with lust and self-indulgence. Electricity sparked down your legs as he looped his fingers in the waistband of your skirt. 

You swore to yourself two nights ago that it was all over, that you wouldn’t let him slither back, yet here you were, Eve, being tempted by the serpent. Teeth sank into the forbidden fruit with the lift of your hips off the door, giving him permission to snatch both your skirt and bloomers down in a swift pull. Arthur didn’t need much persuasion to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil; a man like him could have never lived for eternity in The Garden of Eden. 

The pair of you wore pride like heraldry, but neither of you was as honorable as you’d led the other to believe. You, provoking him with the threat of leaving, knowing you’d let this happen as you always did, and him never changing and never stopping the cycle of broken promises. 

Your scent was intoxicating, but he held off from relishing it, studying your face like he’d done many times before. Something was different this time, though. Only for a heartbeat, you saw something in his eye, a minuscule hint of vulnerability. You blinked, and it was gone like it was never there, replaced by an unabashed smirk. You kept the insults flying. 

“Jerk.”

Hearing the laugh rumble in his chest made your skin prick up the same way it did when a thunderstorm was brewing on the horizon. The cowboy braced his hands against your thighs and peeked up at you, his lips still curved in the corners.

He lifted his eyebrow in question, “You done?”

“Shut up,” you responded, tangling your fingers in his hair and guiding him, not so gracefully, to the heat between your legs. 

Obeying, he flicked his tongue out to lap at you, drawing you closer in a hug, his palms resting on the curve of your ass cheeks. Steadying yourself against the door, you tugged on his hair like reins, but fuck, you didn’t want him to stop. You grunted and cursed under your breath as that gluttonous, greedy grifter feasted on you. 

Blasphemous sounds rose up from your chest as you rocked your hips feverishly with every swipe of his warm wet tongue against your clit. Every tug of his locs and bump of your mound into his nose sent blood pulsing full speed to the bulge in his pants. He knew you were dancing dangerously close to the cliff’s overhang by the way you were keeping him in place, right where you wanted him. But the brute stopped and locked eyes with you, lips curved downward. That slight glimpse of vulnerability you thought you’d seen earlier was now on full display.

“Say you won’t go,” he choked out. 

Down on his knees, looking up at you with genuine sincerity was the closest he’d ever get to prayer or penance. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat but didn’t answer him.

Instead, you ushered him back to his feet and crashed your lips into his again, tangling your tongue with his.

In a swift motion, you popped his suspenders loose while you walked him backward. The backs of his knees hit the bed, and he shimmied off his multiple layers just as quick as you unfastened the buttons on your blouse. You stood before him, a goddess, determining his eternal fate. And he waited, fixated on you, languidly stroking his engorged cock while you decided.

You replaced his fisted grip with yours, bending to meet his eye. The almost frown on his face made you wonder what he was seeing staring back at him. You imagined your pupils blown out, your lips swollen, and your hair disheveled. Arthur was the only man in the world who could turn you into a vixen. 

“You’re a fool, Arthur Morgan.” Your noses were almost touching as you tightened your grip and stroked him painfully slowly. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded, his face downright solemn. 

“Mhm,” you went on, rubbing circles atop his hot, leaking pink tip. Your pace quickened as your cheek grazed his. A shiver ran through him as the vibrations of your voice tickled his ear.

“No good, thieving, murderous bastard.” 

“I know.” He drew out, tightly clutching the sheets. With a firm nudge, you urged him onto his back. 

“You don’t deserve me. Never did,” you continued. His hips jutted in time with your wrist, his climax sitting low in his balls.  

“I–dammit–I–kn–know.”

The muscles of his stomach constricted as he fought for breath, damn near suffocating under your touch. 

“I’ll change.” He gasped, eyes closed, and brow furrowed. “I’ll change. But–ahh–I ain’t ever gonna be good enough for you, woman–nghh–no matter how much changin’ I do.”

Air finally flowed back through with the halt of your pumping. The mattress sunk with your added weight as you slung your legs on either side of him. Neither party stalled. You gave him a quick nod before he could even ask, and he sank his length into your warm, wet pussy. There were no hushing kisses, no waiting for you to adjust, no cajoling, just the smacking of skin and the aroma of sex in the room as he molded you to his girth. Bashfulness had never even crossed your mind. You rode him tirelessly, whimpering, gasping, and filling the air with his name. 

The roles reversed; you were the animal now, a lioness pursuing a buck. Chasing the high, you galloped hard and fast and grinding your hips against his to relieve the throbbing ache in your clit. You massaged the sensitive nub between your thighs, indulging in the pleasure you were giving yourself and receiving from him. The tip of his cock bumped that sweet spot inside of you, the one that made you tense and cry out over and over again. 

You didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want him to know what he was doing to you or how he was making you feel–how he always made you feel when he was burrowed deep inside of you. You couldn’t hide from him, though. He knew you–knew the faces and sounds you made, knew the way you tightened around him, knew how you stiffened, knew how your breathing shallowed when you were on the edge. He knew the control he’d have over you forever.

“You ain’t going nowhere.” He grunted as he pounded up into you, the knot in his stomach tightening with his own upcoming release. 

“Fucker,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, and you love it.” 

You couldn’t deny it.

He took your hand in his and felt for the ring on your finger, stroking it, all while keeping eye contact and hammering relentlessly into your velvety walls. Four more thrusts and your eyes rolled back as the lightbulb of tension burst.

“That’s right, let it go, there it is.” Muttering, his upward ruts got sloppier as you rode out your body-spasming orgasm. Then he started babbling, lost in your sweet heat,

“Shit, I’m–bout t–m’close.”

The cowboy tried to lift you up, tried not to spill inside of you, but you buried your head in the crook of his neck and lowered yourself back down, taking him balls deep.

“Goddamnit,” he growled, hugging you to his chest, “the hell you doing, t’me, woman?” He panted and stared up at the ceiling like a man condemned. 

“Ain’t going nowhere,” you echoed breathlessly, still bouncing, before adding, “Yours.” 

In a few more strokes, he filled you up, grunting through his teeth and cursing up a storm that’d make even the most seasoned sailors look on timidly.

Outside noises of the establishment and the streets of Saint Denis droned back in as both of you came back to your senses. An ocean of things was left unsaid as you redressed and let Arthur lead you out of the room and to a proper hotel for the night. The next morning, you took Arthur up on his offer to get away for a few days. As the train you had boarded for your trip chugged on, something in the distance piqued your interest, a small homestead. You could vaguely make out a woman sitting on the porch and a man, presumably her husband, tending to a horse nearby. Of course, you didn’t know their life or their struggles, but if you could write your own happily ever after, it would be that. Arthur nudged you with his elbow, interrupting your daydream.  

“M’sorry...about everything,” he said, low, barely audible. The perpetual ache in your chest had almost gone numb after so long. Almost. 

“I know.” You replied and turned back to the window. The house was out of sight now, and you had a feeling your fairy tale ending had vanished with it.

[little-jana]

"Fractured Edges"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: angst

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: raised voices, emotional distress, fighting, case-talk, self-doubt, unresolved conflict, no comfort, mentions of Maeve

Summary: Spencer’s anger and fear explode after you put yourself in danger without telling him.

You had never seen Spencer Reid this angry before.

Not when cases went sideways. Not when he was on the receiving end of ridicule. Not even when his own life was at risk.

But now? Now, as he stood in front of you, his hands clenched into fists, his chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths—you realized there was an entirely different side of Spencer you had never seen before. One that wasn’t built from logic and facts, but from raw, unfiltered emotion.

And it terrified you.

"You lied to me," he snapped, his voice like glass breaking against concrete.

Your stomach twisted. "Spencer, I didn’t—"

"Don't." He shook his head, his jaw tight, his entire body rigid with barely restrained fury. "Don't insult me by pretending like it wasn’t a lie."

You swallowed hard, the weight of the situation settling deep in your chest. "I didn't tell you because I knew how you'd react."

His laugh was hollow, bitter. "Oh, so you knew I’d be upset? That makes it better?" He took a step forward, his eyes burning into yours. "What else have you kept from me?"

The question hit you harder than it should have.

"It wasn’t about you, Spencer," you said, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "I made a choice, and I stand by it."

"A choice?" His voice wavered, disbelief coloring every syllable. "You put yourself in danger, you took risks that could’ve—" He cut himself off, running a shaking hand through his hair.

You knew he was struggling to keep his composure. To hold back the fear that had transformed into anger.

And somehow, that hurt more than the words themselves.

"I did what I had to do," you said softly, but the words felt weak.

Spencer let out a sharp exhale, pacing now, hands gripping his hair in frustration. "God, you sound just like—" He stopped himself.

Your stomach dropped. "Like who?"

He didn’t answer. But he didn’t have to.

Maeve.

The name sat between you like an open wound, fresh and bleeding.

You sucked in a breath. "Spencer..."

"Don’t," he said again, but this time it wasn’t sharp—it was broken.

You wanted to reach for him, to tell him that this wasn’t the same, that he wasn’t losing you, that you weren’t her.

But the look in his eyes told you it didn’t matter.

He felt like he was losing you. And maybe, in a way, he already had.

“Tell me why you did it.”

The demand was quiet, but it didn’t lack force. Spencer had stopped pacing, his gaze pinning you to the spot.

You hesitated. He deserved an answer. You owed him that much.

But how could you explain it to him?

How could you put into words the way your stomach had twisted when you realized the danger—how it wasn’t a reckless decision but a necessary one? How could you explain that if you hadn’t done what you did, people would have died?

That he could have died?

You forced yourself to meet his gaze. “Because it was the only option.”

“That’s bullshit,” Spencer snapped. His voice was sharper now, cutting through the tension like a blade. “There are always options. You just didn’t trust me enough to find another one.”

Your throat tightened. “That’s not true—”

“Isn’t it?” He let out a bitter laugh, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t name. “You didn’t tell me. You didn’t talk to me. You just—just decided without even thinking about what it would mean for the rest of us.”

For me.

The words weren’t spoken, but you heard them anyway.

You took a step forward. “Spencer, I wasn’t trying to shut you out.”

“But you did.” His voice wavered. “You did, and now you’re standing here, acting like I’m the one being unreasonable for being angry about it.”

You flinched. “I don’t think you’re being unreasonable.”

“No?” His arms crossed tightly over his chest, his entire posture defensive, bracing. “Then why do you keep acting like this is something we can just move past?

Because you had to.

Because if you didn’t, if you stayed in this place of hurt and anger, you weren’t sure you’d ever come back from it.

But looking at Spencer now, at the way his hands were shaking, at the way his breath hitched when he tried to speak—you realized that maybe he wasn’t sure if he could come back from this either.

“I was scared,” you admitted. The words felt foreign, raw. “I knew what I was doing was dangerous, but it wasn’t about shutting you out, Spencer. It wasn’t about you.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s the problem, though, isn’t it?”

You frowned. “What?”

His voice was quieter now, but the anger hadn’t faded—it had only settled, simmering beneath the surface.

“I wasn’t part of the equation,” he said. “You didn’t think about what this would do to me. To the team. You just decided that you’d handle it alone.”

The words stung.

You wanted to argue. To tell him that he was wrong, that you had thought about him—about all of them.

But had you?

Had you really stopped, for even a second, to think about what it would feel like for them to watch you put yourself in danger without so much as a word of warning?

Your silence must have given you away because Spencer exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “That’s what I thought.”

“Spence, I—”

“You keep saying it wasn’t about me.” His voice cracked, and that was what finally shattered you. “But don’t you get it? It is about me. About all of us. About what happens when we lose someone else because they thought they could do it alone.”

He didn’t have to say her name.

The ghost of Maeve lingered between you, unspoken but deeply felt.

And now, you had wedged yourself into the same space—another person he cared about, another person who made a choice without him, another person who could have been taken away just as easily.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, and suddenly, it wasn’t anger in his eyes anymore. It was fear.

A deep, bone-deep kind of fear that made your chest ache.

You took a shaky breath. “You won’t.”

His lips pressed together in a thin line. “How can you be so sure?”

Because you weren’t.

And neither was he.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and fragile, like a thread pulled too tight.

Finally, Spencer inhaled sharply and took a step back. It was small, barely noticeable, but it felt like a chasm opening between you.

“I need time,” he said.

Your heart clenched. “Spencer—”

“I need time,” he repeated, and this time, his voice was steady. Firm.

Final.

And then he turned, walking away before you could stop him.

You didn’t chase after him.

You didn’t call out his name.

Because for the first time since you had known him, you weren’t sure if he wanted to be caught.

And that?

That hurt more than anything else.

[sansaaaaaagirl]

BE MY LOVER

I have to make a warning, no part of this fanfic is insulting or hateful towards Charles' current girlfriend. Let's be clear

There is no further warning.

(actually yes, I'm not a professional at writing fanfics, sorry)

###

The hours slipped away, minutes ticking down like grains of sand in an hourglass. Every second mattered as you sat in front of your computer, sifting through Ferrari’s sales reports, sponsorship deals, and revenue projections—anything and everything related to business.

You played a crucial role here, and you knew it. But you also understood the importance of pacing yourself.

After hours of staring at the screen, nursing every sip of coffee as if it were fuel keeping you alive, exhaustion crept in. Needing a break, you stepped out into the paddock’s open-air courtyard, hoping the crisp evening air would clear your head.

It had been a grueling week in Monza. A race like no other, one that required seizing every moment, every opportunity to boost the drivers’ popularity.

Or rather, his popularity.

Charles Leclerc wasn’t the type to engage much. Reserved, quiet—he rarely spoke unless it was to his brother or his mother. You respected that. After all, he wasn’t obligated to chatter mindlessly through life. But still, communication with him was essential for your job.

And damn, was it necessary.

You had worked tirelessly to keep his brand alive, to maintain his impact, to ensure his image never dulled. But it was difficult.

Difficult when the rumors kept swirling, relentless, whispering about his life—about what he did and didn’t do.

The worst part? Those rumors often involved you.

Speculation ran rampant. People claimed you interacted too much, that you looked like a couple. But in reality, this was just work. Nothing more. Occasionally, you had leaned on each other—shared burdens, vented frustrations—but it had never been about love or attraction. Right?

"Nice evening."

His voice broke through your thoughts. Green eyes watched you with amusement.

"You think so?" You leaned against the railing, exhaling. "I’d say it would be a nicer evening if you didn’t give me so much work."

"Oh?" He smirked, feigning offense. "You handle that. I’m the one risking my life at over 200 km/h, and you don’t hear me complaining."

"That’s different, Leclerc. What’s unfair is being dragged into things that don’t concern me." Your voice hardened, making your frustration clear.

"That’s just people talking," he said nonchalantly, pointing at you.

"Yes, but I don’t want to be called a homewrecker. Or hear people saying you’re a womanizer."

"So… you care about me?" His smirk widened.

"I care about your image, idiot." You shot back, irritation lacing your words.

"You know what?" He stepped closer, the air between you charged. "Forget it. Have dinner with me."

You laughed outright. The idea was ridiculous. Impossible.

He had a girlfriend.

"Don’t laugh, I wasn’t finished," he said, his teasing tone fading into something more serious."It’s a work dinner. You know, business."

"Just the two of us?" You arched a brow. "The marketing assistant and the Ferrari driver, alone in a restaurant? What do you think people will say?"

"Relax, you’re not that special." He rolled his eyes, grinning. "It’s not just you. I invited other staff members too."

"Are you sure?"

"Do I look like a liar?"

And though you wanted to say yes, you held back, keeping the conversation light. A dinner, likely a lavish one—how could you refuse?

"My girlfriend will be there," he added casually. "So no one will say a thing."

"Fine."

-

The restaurant was buzzing with quiet chatter, forks clinking against plates, glasses being refilled. The scent of truffle pasta and aged wine lingered in the air. You adjusted the pearl necklace resting against your collarbone, a subconscious gesture as you stole a glance at your reflection in the mirrored reception. The dress you wore was understated—black, fitted just enough to be elegant, yet casual enough to avoid raising eyebrows.

You weren’t here for a date. You reminded yourself that as you turned back toward the small group from Ferrari’s social media team, their laughter blending into the background noise.

Then the room shifted.

The energy changed the moment Charles walked in.

He wasn’t alone.

She was with him—his girlfriend, perfectly poised, her hand curled around his arm, as if staking a claim. She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, her expression faltering for just a second when she noticed you.

It was subtle, but you caught it.

“Oh,” her eyes seemed to say. *You invited her.*

The irony almost made you laugh. It wasn’t as if you wanted to be here. Charles had extended the invitation with an air of indifference, claiming it was just a work dinner, something the team did every now and then to keep morale high. Nothing personal.

And yet, it felt personal.

He made his way through the room, greeting colleagues, shaking hands, exchanging pleasantries. She stood beside him, playing her role—the supportive girlfriend, the picture of effortless charm. Except, when her gaze flickered back to you, the warmth in her expression dimmed just a little more.

You refused to let it get to you.

“Enjoying yourself?”

The voice was familiar, low and teasing. You turned just as Charles stopped beside you, his head tilting slightly as he studied your face.

You rolled your eyes. “I was. Until now.”

He smirked. “Good to know I have that effect on you.”

Before you could respond, she stepped in, seamlessly inserting herself between you two.

“Darling,” she said, fingers curling around his wrist, her voice smooth, almost too sweet. “They’re waiting for us at the table.”

Charles barely reacted, just glanced at you for half a second longer before letting himself be pulled away.

You exhaled slowly, fixing your posture.

It was going to be a long night.

---

The seating arrangement was strategic—probably unintentional, but still ironic. You were directly across from Charles, his girlfriend seated beside him, your colleagues spread around the table in casual conversation. Wine was poured, plates were passed, discussions drifted between race strategies and upcoming PR campaigns.

But there was an undercurrent beneath it all.

Charles was a master at subtlety when he wanted to be. His fingers traced the rim of his glass lazily, his attention seemingly elsewhere, yet every so often, his gaze found you. A brief flicker of something unreadable.

You ignored it.

Or at least, you tried to.

“You’ve been working closely with Charles lately, haven’t you?”

The question came from one of the PR managers, but it was his girlfriend who reacted first. Her grip on her fork tightened just slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

You smiled politely. “It’s my job.”

“She’s good at it too,” Charles added, his voice casual but deliberate. “Though, she does like to boss me around.”

A few chuckles rippled through the table. You shot him a look. “Someone has to make sure you don’t ruin your own career.”

He smirked. “And here I thought you just liked giving me a hard time.”

His girlfriend’s posture stiffened.

You took a slow sip of your wine. If she wanted to pretend she wasn’t watching your every move, that was her problem.

The rest of dinner continued in that same unspoken game. The conversations around you became white noise, blurred by the tension that neither of you wanted to acknowledge. But it was there, simmering beneath the surface, hidden behind carefully chosen words and fleeting glances.

When the meal was over and people began saying their goodbyes, you felt a presence at your side before you even turned.

Charles.

His voice was low enough that only you could hear. “Are you coming to the afterparty?”

You glanced at him, then at her. She was watching—of course she was.

You exhaled a quiet laugh. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

He tilted his head, as if considering it. Then, with a smirk, he murmured, “Since when do we care about what’s a good idea?”

And just like that, the game continued

It was already 4 a.m. The vodka you had grabbed a while ago had long since been forgotten, yet you ignored all the signs telling you it was a bad idea, mainly because you wanted to take this as a break, not as a punishment.

You danced and danced, feeling carefree. At no point did you cross paths with Charles and his girlfriend, but you figured it was because she probably didn't want you there, so you simply ignored it.

From the dance floor, you made your way to the bar for another drink. The effects of the alcohol, the flashing lights, the heat, the sweat, the music—all a mixture of sensations telling you one thing:

You were drunk.

The dizziness made you stumble, causing a chuckle to rise inside you. You reached for your glass, about to grab it, when a large hand landed on your wrist, yanking the drink from your grasp.

"I think you've had enough, don't you?" he said, looking at you.

"Do you?" you shot back. "Give me the glass."

"I guess now I'll be the one to make sure you don't get yourself into trouble," he teased, mocking your state.

"Pfft," you laughed, amused. "In your dreams, Charles."

In your dreams.

He simply watched, taking you in. You were disheveled, but not enough to look a mess. Your makeup was a bit smudged, but the lipstick had completely faded. Your face was relaxed, flushed.

"I’ll take you to the hotel," he said, his tone determined.

"The party’s not over," you protested like a child.

"Sweetheart, the party's over for you."

And like a gentleman, he took your arm and led you, practically like a couple, to his sleek car. He opened the door, guiding you inside with ease.

He slid in beside you, letting out a sigh before looking at you. His lip curled into a smirk.

"And your girlfriend?" you teased. "She'll be mad if she sees this."

"And the media? I thought you cared about that more," he challenged.

"Don't you care about your girlfriend?"

"And why would you want to know if I care or not?" he asked. "Is this an interview?"

"Go to hell, Leclerc," you snapped.

"We're on our way there," he mocked.

The window was down, letting the wind blow against your face, making you feel sleepy and relaxed, a sense of peace washing over you, unlike anything else.

Lost in the calm, you didn’t even realize you had reached the hotel. But since you were so relaxed, Charles didn’t make any move to get you out. Instead, he just stared at you for a long moment.

Admiring you.

"Sleeping beauty," he teased. "We’re here."

You shifted slightly at the sound of his voice, your eyes barely open, enough to catch the way he was looking at you. His usual arrogance was still there, but something else lingered—something unreadable, something intense. You blinked, trying to shake off the fog of alcohol and exhaustion, but the weight of his gaze kept you frozen in place.

"Stop staring at me," you murmured, your voice husky.

Charles just smiled. "You looked too peaceful. I thought it would be a crime to wake you."

Rolling your eyes, you tried to sit up, but the sudden movement caused a wave of dizziness to wash over you. You staggered, and before you could react, his hand was on your thigh, steadying you. The warmth of his palm, even through the fabric of your dress, was enough to make you acutely aware of how close he was.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice quieter now.

You swallowed hard, breath catching in your throat. The space between you had closed dangerously, and neither of you made any move to pull away. His eyes lingered on your lips, and instinctively, your tongue darted out to wet them. It was a simple movement, but it made him grip you tighter, as if he were holding himself back.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" you joked, trying to regain some control.

Charles chuckled quietly, shaking his head slightly. "You think too highly of yourself."

"Do I?" You tilted your head and studied him. "Then why haven’t you moved?"

His smirk faltered for a split second, and in that moment, you knew. The tension that had been building for months, buried under sarcastic remarks and fleeting glances, had reached its breaking point.

"Maybe," he said, his voice softer now, almost hesitant, "because I don't want to."

Your breath caught in your throat. It was the closest either of you had come to admitting there was something, something neither of you was willing to name, something far more complicated than either of you had been willing to admit.

And then he moved.

Slowly, deliberately, his hand slid from your thigh to your waist, his fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of your dress. He leaned in, his warm breath grazing your skin, giving you every chance to stop him, to push him away.

You didn’t.

Instead, you closed the distance, and your lips met his in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. It was deep, slow, and consuming, the kind that made your whole body melt into his. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss, as though he’d been waiting for this just as much as you.

And maybe he had.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting together. His fingers still lingered on your skin, as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

"Tell me this is just the vodka," he whispered.

You knew it wasn’t.

But you weren’t ready to say it aloud. Not yet.

"I don’t know," you said. "Testing it would make you quite the man."

He looked at you for a moment longer, and without wasting another second, he kissed you again.

"It’s a shame we can’t do this outside the hotel," he said, pretending to sound disappointed.

"I have a bed for two," you replied.

[froegis]

but it’s not funny. why would wishing rape on anyone ever be okay? no matter who they are or what you think they believe? in what circumstance is that ever a valid wish? because you think pro-life people are actively forcing women to give birth, and each one of us is a malicious man who hates women and is okay with rape? have you ever talked in depth to someone who is pro-life, asked them what they think and believe, without getting your information from a biased source catered to your viewpoint, without immediately deciding they are evil because they have a different point of view, without deciding what you think they believe?

to clear things up, talk about abortions that occur because of inconvenience, which is the majority of abortions (which is what we try to talk about most of the time, but pro-choice people often choose to clump all types of abortions into one big category, equating abortions of rape with abortions of convenience.) so abortions not of rape, not of incest, not to save the mother, all of which you conveniently focus on in this conversation without addressing the reason 90% of abortions occur.

abortion is used massively as birth control when people have sex, get pregnant, and decide they don’t want to face the consequence of that action. deciding to “prevent a clump of cells from becoming a baby”, as you so delicately put it, is killing a baby for your own convenience, after choosing to have sex and choosing to face the risk of getting pregnant. that’s what that is. preventing a clump of cells designed to BE a baby is killing a baby. “preventing something from living” is the same thing as killing.

i am a woman, so you cannot possibly throw out that prolifers have no empathy for women when there are prolife people who are women. how does that not click?? you are literally just saying words to say words and incite negative emotions in the reader. there are so many women who have been through hell yet still believe that clump of cells you think is nothing is actually a growing human being with a future. i have met a girl who went through the craziest shit imaginable done to her by her immediate family, and she had a kid. it’s absolutely tragic, and yet she still told me how much she loves her little girl, and that she doesn’t understand how someone could think of ending the life an innocent human before they even get the chance to breathe. i know that’s just a case of one person and i don’t intend to use that as a catch-all argument by any means. i only want to call attention to the women like her, and i want to make it clear that they exist and you erase their survival and insult their dignity when you throw such accusations around.

still don’t understand how wishing rape on someone could be excused, yet here you are, excusing it with a premise that is entirely false and not at all the reality of prolife people or our beliefs.

and im pretty sure wishing rape on anyone is evil. no matter what. that should be pretty clear, out of anything. there is nothing that could ever excuse that. the hatred you speak of, which you claim we push onto women having abortions, is coming suspiciously from your own mouth.

i’m truly curious about how you would treat a woman who had sex and got an abortion as birth control versus a woman who was raped and decided to keep the baby because she believed it would be wrong for her to get an abortion. if she decided to speak up about it, would you support her as a survivor? would you hear her out or listen to a word she says? or in your eyes, is she a woman-killer and a forced-birther because she identifies as prolife and advocates for something she believes (which by the way, is no different from what you do)?

what is the difference between these two hypothetical women? i am genuinely curious what you think, because i have seen people who are pro choice praise the woman who got an abortion for exercising her right to bodily autonomy, then turn right around and wish the other woman more rape and death for keeping the child and for advocating for something she believes to be true with her whole heart (which, again, is no different from the other woman). and i truly cannot understand the logic behind that.

there is no excuse. wishing rape on anyone, regardless of their beliefs, is no less evil than the prolife person in your brain who is actively “forcing” women to give birth.

I think all pro-lifers should be raped, forced to have the baby (no exceptions), and become forced to raise it for 18-20 years just to see how it feels

[aventurineswife]

About Valentine's Week Special

Can you do Ratio x reader who messes up their confession to him?

Ratio found a note in his desk that says “get out of my school” and it was actually reader who wanted to ask him to go on a date with him after school but got too shy to ask and intended to write “go out with me after school” but wrote the above instead

Say It Wrong, Make It Right

Summary: In a humorous and heartwarming Valentine's Week special, you try to confess your feelings to Ratio. However, your nerves get the best of you, and your note intended to ask him out instead says, “Get out of my school.” Ratio, initially confused and offended, eventually uncovers the truth behind your accidental blunder. With a rare smile and a touch of intellectual humor, he forgives you, leading to an unexpected yet sweet first date.

Tags: Ratio x Reader, Fluff, Crack Fic, Valentine's Week Special, Humor, Confession Gone Wrong, Romance, Awkward Situations, Lighthearted.

Warnings: Mild embarrassment, Miscommunication (note mishap).

The crisp sound of a note sliding across a desk broke the silence in the grand, book-filled lecture hall of the Intelligentsia Guild. Dr. Ratio, resplendent in his signature violet hair and gilded academic attire, arched a sharp eyebrow. A folded piece of paper had been tucked neatly among his meticulously arranged lecture materials.

It wasn’t unusual for students or colleagues to slip him notes—requests for feedback, invitations to debates, or even philosophical challenges. But this one was…different. The words scrawled across the page struck him like an unsolved paradox.

"Get out of my school."

For a moment, his brilliant mind short-circuited. He read the message again, tilting the note as if a different angle might offer clarity. Ratio frowned, a rare crack in his ever-confident façade. Was this…a declaration of rivalry? A disgruntled student's rebellion? A threat to his very presence in the academic world?

“Impossible,” he muttered, crumpling the note with an uncharacteristically indignant flourish. “Who would dare suggest such an intellectually void sentiment?”

Little did he know, hidden behind a bookshelf nearby, you—his most dedicated (and nervous) admirer—were suppressing a panic attack.

You hadn’t meant to insult the man you admired most in the universe. Quite the opposite, in fact. Your original intention had been to ask Ratio—genius extraordinaire, passionate educator, and your longtime crush—on a date.

But writing the note was harder than expected. You’d rewritten it at least twenty times, the final draft intended to read:

"Go out with me after school?"

But in your anxiety-fueled haste, you’d swapped the words. Now your awkward attempt at romance looked like a straight-up expulsion notice. And Ratio? He was thoroughly unimpressed.

You peeked around the corner just in time to see him march out of the lecture hall, his alabaster headpiece under one arm, and the offending note in his other hand. His muttering grew fainter as he strode away, but you caught snippets: “Ignorant…crude…unworthy of my intellect…”

You sank to the floor, face buried in your hands. “What have I done?”

The rest of the day passed in a haze of guilt and dread. By the time the final bell rang, you’d resolved to find Ratio and explain the misunderstanding. You tracked him down in his private study—a grand, duck-adorned sanctuary filled with intricate charts and shelves overflowing with books.

He was seated at his desk, his posture immaculate, the crumpled note smoothed out before him. His eyes bore into it as if trying to extract its hidden meaning. When you entered, his gaze snapped to you.

“Ah, the instigator of this…” he gestured dramatically to the note, “intellectual atrocity. Care to explain yourself?”

You winced. “I—I didn’t mean it! I swear!”

Ratio leaned back, crossing his arms with a mixture of suspicion and intrigue. “Then what, pray tell, was the intent behind this baffling message?”

Your face turned crimson as you fumbled for words. “I, um… I was trying to ask if…if you’d go out with me after school…”

Ratio blinked, his formidable intellect apparently momentarily unable to process your words. “…Go out? With me?”

You nodded frantically, every fiber of your being screaming for the floor to swallow you whole. “Yes! I wanted to ask you on a date, but I—I panicked, and I messed up the note…”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, to your utter disbelief, Ratio threw back his head and laughed. It wasn’t a mocking laugh but rather a genuine, amused chuckle that softened the sharp edges of his usual demeanor.

“By the Aeons,” he said, still smiling, “you managed to turn a simple confession into what I assumed was an eviction notice. Fascinating. Truly, you may be the only person alive capable of such…creative phrasing.”

You stared at him, mortified. “I’m so sorry. I understand if you think I’m ridiculous—”

Ratio stood abruptly, his imposing presence suddenly a little less intimidating. “Ridiculous? Hardly. Your error was unique, if nothing else. And as someone who values ingenuity…” He offered you a small, rare smile. “I suppose I can forgive it.”

Your heart soared. “Does that mean…you’ll go out with me?”

He studied you for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. But only under one condition.”

“What is it?”

He leaned in slightly, his eyes gleaming with intellectual mischief. “You must promise never to write me another note unsupervised.”

You burst out laughing, relief washing over you. “Deal.”

As the two of you left his study together, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, your disastrous confession had been the start of something extraordinary.

[mortuary-maggots]

Mean

This is my first time writing smut so please be kind as I figure things out!

synopsis- Toby and reader do not get along in the slightest. What happens when they're forced to share a bed coming home from a mission?

TW: smut, mentions of blood, name calling (both sexual and non), mentions of murder, biting, reader is kind of a brat, reader is afab

Let me know if I've missed any warnings.

Thick silence clung to the air of the car, mixing with the stale smell of cigarette smoke and greasy fast food bags. Tim had one hand gripped firmly on the wheel, so tightly you would be shocked if he didn't leave behind imprints in the leather. His other hand rested outside the rolled down window, cigarette nestled between two fingers; his fourth one in the last hour. You knew the mission had gone poorly even if it had been completed, but his chain smoking in silence cemented that fact all the more. He was always the first to chastise the group when things went south, armed with harsh words and insults that you knew were out of a need to better you all. Silence from him when it came to matters of work was unsettling, it was only a matter of time before he exploded. 

Brian sat passenger, equally silent. That wasn't out of the ordinary, he was often a man of little words, even more so when he was sleep deprived. You all were at this point. Cleaning up loose ends for the Operator would often consist of many day missions, in which rest was a luxury. You all savored the ability to relax when you came back, even Tim, who never really slept much to begin with. Brian fiddled with the screen of his camcorder, opening and closing it in a repetitive motion, head focused on the road in front of him. Normally, he'd be hounding Tim to slow down on the cigarettes by his second one, not wanting to deal with the acrid fumes in such close proximity, but you knew even he felt the tension that seeped from the man in the driver's seat. 

Toby sat next to you in the back, eyes trained outside. His elbow rested on the armrest of the door, his cheek nestled into his gloved hand. You could tell he was still fuming from your earlier fight, the fight that had almost cost you the entire mission. You couldn't even remember the full context to why you had started fighting in the first place, you probably killed someone he had his sights trained on or something of the sort. It didn't matter what it was about either way, you both always found something to argue over. Drinking the rest of the milk in the cabin, him dumping your wet laundry on the floor to replace it with his, who sat shotgun when Brian wasn't in the car, just about any interaction you had with him ended in a screaming match that had to be broken up by Tim or Brian, sometimes both if it got too out of hand.

It's not like you tried to start something with him, it just kind of happened. He was disagreeable and snappy and you could tell there was something about you just existing in his general vicinity that pissed him off. You weren't quite sure what you had done to land yourself on his perpetual shit-list, but you also hadn't really asked. You craved the excitement that came with the explosion of vitriol you casted at each other, it was a much needed stress relief. He was an outlet to blow off steam. However, there was also a small part of you that enjoyed the attention from him, even if it was mostly negative.

When you had first become a proxy, you had mentally latched onto him, developing a little proximity crush in the process. Falling for someone was something you were sure would never happen to you, especially after all the trauma that led you to where you were now. Yet, here he was, infectious laugh and messy curls making you feel smitten. Back then, you’d be able to have a conversation without it devolving, his energetic ramblings about things he loved were endearing, but somewhere along the way that had rapidly changed to a demeaning attitude. It wasn't gradual, it came overnight, like a switch had been flipped. You didn't reciprocate his jabs at first, but the longer it went on the more it lit a fire in you. The crush hadn't really gone away either, instead twisting into an unhealthy obsession with how easy you got under his skin, how much you lived rent free in his head even if he was dousing his mind version of you in gasoline and striking a match. There was something so enticing about pushing his buttons until he lost control.

The most recent fight had almost resulted in a survivor escaping, both of you far too enthralled in verbally ripping each other apart to notice someone trying to slip away. Brian had finished her off while Tim forcefully led you and Toby back to the car, hands gripped on the backs of your necks. It was like breaking up a dogfight by separating them by their scruff, though it didn't stop you two from continuing the tirade back and forth until Tim threatened to leave you both to walk. You had shut up instantly, but you knew it wasn't the end; you always seemed to pick up right where you left off.

“You two need to get your shit together.” Tim's gruff voice pierced through the smog that had yet to escape through his open window. “You're going to get yourselves fucking killed because you can't get along for longer than five minutes.” 

“I'll do that w-when she stops being a cunt.” Toby mumbled under his breath, kicking at one of the discarded food bags that had consisted of tonight's dinner.

It didn't stop Tim from hearing it clearly, letting out a disgruntled sigh that told you he was trying his best to not stop the car completely and chew you both out. 

“You're right, I'm sorry Tim.” You ignored Toby's nasty comment in favor of keeping your head attached to your body. Toby's anger was easy enough to deal with, you had been for a while, but Tim's anger was a whole other beast you didn't want to be on the other end of. Even if you desperately wanted to say something snarky to piss off Toby further. 

Toby just scoffed at your apology, obviously expecting one pointed towards him as well. Tim only shook his head, letting another sigh fall from his lips, though this one sounded decidedly more exhausted. It was still hours back to the cabin and you knew you needed to stop at a motel before he crashed the car from sleep deprivation. Normally on missions Brian drove, but he had relinquished the keys to Tim, not trusting himself to stay awake on the long drive back. An insomniac in the driver's seat had seemed like a good idea at the time, but the longer the drive went on, the more it became harder for him not to nod off as well. 

Thankfully, Brian seemed to be on the same wavelength as you. “We should find somewhere to stay for the night before you fall asleep at the wheel.” 

“I want to g-go home.” Toby sat up, more alert. His hazy brown eyes glanced toward you for a moment and you felt a tug at your heart strings. You almost resented the feelings for him that refused to go away, almost hated the giddiness that flipped in your stomach when he spoke to you. Almost.

“Kid, we need sleep. Everyone is tired and cranky and I'm sick of listening to you two go at it.” Tim agreed with Brian's sentiment. Brian snorted at the end of Tim's sentence, delighted at the accidental innuendo.

Toby didn't seem to notice Brian's implications, and if he did he didn't say anything about it. “You're just g-going to make me share a room with her.” 

“You both are going to have to learn how to get along at some point.” Brain responded. 

Tim's eyes flicked up to the rear view mirror to look at you both in the backseat. “He's right, we can't afford a failed mission.” 

Toby didn't respond, instead opting to dramatically slump back in his seat, arms crossed like a child who just got told he can't get a toy at the store. It was amusing to see a grown man act like this because of you, but you knew Brian and Tim were right, even though you had a feeling if you tried genuinely being open with Toby, it wouldn't go the way you intended. You wished you could pry open his brunette head and peer inside his skull to see what went on in that confusing brain of his. If you actually could see thoughts that way, it would be decidedly easier than trying to get him to calmly talk to you on his own. You ran over ways to approach him about, at the very least, pretending to get along on missions the entire way to the seedy motel Tim had chosen. You were no closer to having a good idea though. 

“Alright wait here.” Tim stretched with a groan as soon as he got out of the driver's side, a cacophony of cracking joints sounding as he did. Man needed to see a chiropractor or get a stretching rack before his bones disintegrated or something. The car was practically vibrating from the intensity that settled over the remaining inhabitants. You could feel Toby's gaze burn holes into your head, but you refused to meet his gaze, hoping to save whatever storm was brewing for when you were both in your room for the night. It didn't take long for Tim to return, two keycards in hand and another cigarette in the other. He stopped in front of the car and waved the keycards in the air, a silent signal for them all to get out. 

Brian made a beeline for the trunk to retrieve your duffle bags as Tim handed Toby the card for your room. “They only have two, one bed rooms left, so I just got those.” 

“Are you f-fucking kidding m-me.” Toby's twitches got closer together in length as he spat out his shock. You could feel the anxiety fall off him in waves, his full eyebrows furrowed in rage. You tried your best to keep a poker face, but you still felt a blush dust across your cheeks because you didn't necessarily mind sharing a bed with him, it was just an excuse to be closer. It was not lost on you how pathetic that made you sound but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Tim only grunted a simple, “you'll live,” in response and stamped the cigarette butt out on the ground with his foot. He shoved one of the key cards into Toby’s hand, ignoring the death glare he received in return. 

Despite yourself you couldn't help but poke the bear. “It's just a bed.”

“That I have to s-share with a dumb slut.” He growled. “W-what if she bites me in my sleep and I get rabies.” 

“Can you two just fuck already.” Brian came to stand next to Tim, tossing the duffle bags on the ground in the middle of the group. 

Toby let out an exasperated noise and wordlessly snatched his dark green bag from off the pavement before stomping off in the perceived direction of your room. You were quick to follow, knowing fully if you didn't, he'd leave you to find your own way there, maybe even lock you out of the room. Tim and Brian were a few paces behind, walking leisurely and chatting about breakfast plans for the morning. The small motel looked to be on the verge of condemnation, run down and empty save for the few cars that dotted the parking lot. You had a sneaking suspicion that Tim was lying about the room situation to get you and Toby to finally talk things out. You knew that if this didn't work, Tim and Brian would stop at nothing to remedy the problem, maybe even going as far as to get you both one giant sweater with the words “this is our get along shirt” printed across the front. You hoped it wouldn't have to come to that. 

Your rooms were right next to each other, the doors around it proudly boasting closed for cleaning. It was usually the case for you all to get rooms far away from the general public when you had to stay somewhere for the night, none of you really wanted to get caught by the police. Toby tore through the door after unlocking it, the sheer force of the swing causing it to slam into the wall inside. The compact room had very little furniture, only a bed that barely fit two, two nightstands on either side, and a dresser, and the bathroom was equally as small, narrowly fitting all of its amenities. You closed the door softly behind you after calling goodnight to the other two. The clock that sat on one of the bedside tables read the witching hour and yet there was a frenetic energy coming from Toby as he ripped open his bag on the bed. 

“You can have the bed, I'll sleep on the floor.” You had decided to wait to talk to him until morning, desperately trying to avoid another argument for Tim and Brian's sake. You were hoping he'd be a little more agreeable with a full rest.

He had other plans, however. “W-why? So you can complain to them about h-how I made you sleep on the floor?” 

“Fine, then you sleep on the floor.” You could feel the familiar venom bubble to the surface, you needed to redirect this fast before you lost it yourself. 

“Oh that's real nice, make me s-sleep on the floor.” 

“There's no fucking winning with you, is there?” You spat. “Do whatever the hell you want.”

He pulled his clothes from his bag and stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. It was going to be a long night. You quickly changed into your own pajamas while he was locked in there, it becoming abundantly clear that he had no interest in even trying to head Tim and Brian’s word. You tried to think back to before it all started, micro-analyzing every single thing you had done or said to him that could make him hate you as much as he did, but you couldn't come up with a single answer. You hadn't done a damn thing except treat him with kindness and it was driving you up the wall that this is how he chose to repay it. Toby stormed out not long after you had finished changing and ignored you completely as you swapped places to do your night routine, which was done hastily in favor of getting to bed faster. 

The room was dark when you returned, Toby already under the covers and staring at the ceiling. You mirrored him, your bodies almost touching from how small the bed was, and you made sure to scoot as close to the edge as possible to stave off a complaint from him. 

That effort was in vain. “Turn towards the wall, I don't want y-your face to be the first thing I s-see when I wake up.” 

That was it. You felt something snap in you as you raised your voice at him. “What is your fucking damage? Why do you always have to have an attitude.”

“Take a look in the m-mirror.” His voice raised in response to yours. “Maybe you'll figure it out.”

“Real mature. I busted my ass to get along with you when I first joined, went out of my way to get to know you. Why do you have such a problem with me? I-”

He cut you off. “Because I fucking like you okay?” Your eyes widened and you whipped your head to look at him. The concern etched onto his face told you he was just as surprised as you were that it came out of his mouth. You could only stare at him, face hot, your own mouth agape as your brain ran a mile a minute and your heart matched its pace.

He made a move to leave the bed, but you wouldn’t let him run away from his confession. “Toby, wait, why didn't you just tell me?” Your voice was soft and shaky, wanting to diffuse the situation, astonished he reciprocated your feelings. 

“So what? I’ll get rejected, l-laughed at?” His voice wavered, unsure of everything that was unfolding between you. 

“How do you know I’d do that?” You couldn’t believe what you were saying, couldn’t believe this was even happening. “I don’t understand why you felt the need to push me away, instead of being a dick, you could have just said something.”

He furrowed his brows, taking a minute to respond. You could almost see the gears in his head turning, tired eyes scanning the ceiling for some kind of answer to his problems. “Y-you kind of deserved it.” 

You let out a discontented noise, moving to get out of the bed. You had to get some air. “What the fuck ever Toby, I give up.” 

Before you could get up fully, his hands were on you, pulling you back into the bed until you were on your back under him, wrists pinned. “I’m f-fucking right, you come in here with those stupid d-doe eyes and pretty smile and act so sickeningly nice to me. It pisses me off, I thought I could f-fix it by starting fights but that just made it s-so much fucking worse because now I’m just thinking about putting you in y-your place.”

All you can do is stare at him, astonished at his confessions. He was inches from your face, breathing labored and eyes unblinking, hands in a vice grip around your poor wrists. It was a struggle to form coherent thoughts, let alone words. “Toby, I-”

You don’t get much out before he interrupted you. “S-shut the fuck up, stop talking. I don’t want to hear it.”

It felt like your brain short circuited a moment, realizing he’s set you up perfectly to push back. “Then make me.” 

He just stared in confusion a moment before it finally clicked. He threw caution into the wind, slamming his lips onto yours in a frenzy. It was sloppy and rushed, like he’d been dreaming of this moment for a while and he couldn’t wait to finally claim you. He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on the thin skin until it started to bubble with blood, the metallic taste filling your mouth. The pain caused you to inhale sharply, only rewarding you with his knee moving to separate your thighs, a low groan erupting from his throat as he slid his tongue across the bleeding lip. Your mind is clouded and your clit tingled with excitement as he moved to leave messy kisses down your neck, biting down when he found the spot that caused the biggest reaction. He abused the skin, sucking and biting until a bruise blossomed, causing pitiful whimpers to fall from your mouth. 

“L-look at you.” He breathed, pulling back to admire your disheveled form. Your eyes were half-lidded, lips parted as you struggled to catch your breath from the whirlwind of his rapidly shifting attitude. “So much fight in you before, but I was right wasn’t I? Y-you are a slut.” 

“I am not!” You protested, though your words quickly turned into a gasp when he shoved his knee further up your thighs, rubbing against the fabric of your pajama shorts. 

“O-oh good, you still have some fight left.” Toby shifted, letting go of your wrists and pushing your legs open enough that he could kneel between them. “I’m looking forward to b-breaking you.” 

He moved his hands down the curves of your body, obviously intent on taking off your shirt. You let a coy smile fall across your face, he wanted a fight and historically, you were glad to give that to him. You grabbed at his wrists, stopping him from getting what he wanted, making him growl in frustration and rip the thin material in half. 

“What the fuck.” You ignored the cool air that hit your bare chest in favor of riling him up further. 

His gaze was predatory as he took in the sight of your breasts, exposed just for him. He spoke with a wolfish grin. “If you’re going to act like a brat, I’m g-going to treat you like one.” He dipped to leave marks all over the expanse of skin, relishing in the way it made you buck under him. Pressing down on your clit with his clothed erection, he ground into you roughly, sending chills down your spine. Once he was satisfied with the bruising, he latched onto one of your nipples, nipping at it every so often. His fingers pinched roughly at the other, the dichotomy of pain and pleasure leaving you reeling.

“I think I like you better when you’re using your mouth for this.” You said between pants, ignoring how your voice wavered.

He pulled away from your nipple with an obnoxious pop. “A-and I think I like you b-better when you’re a d-desperate mess.” Hands tugged your pajama shorts down, discarding them somewhere off the bed, leaving you in just your panties.

“Fuck you.” You spat.

“P-planning on it.” He ran a finger up your clothed folds, pressing a little harder when he ghosted over your clit. You could tell he was admiring the green lace of the garment, admiring how soaked you were from his actions. “All t-this for me?” 

Instinctively, you pressed your legs together, giving him the perfect opportunity to pull the underwear off and stuff it into the pocket of his pajama pants. Before you could protest, Toby’s hands gripped harshly into your thighs, prying them apart. You tried to stifle a gasp, though you were unsuccessful as you watched him lick his lips. Wordlessly, he dove to lick a stripe up the slick folds, swirling his tongue around the clit when he reached it. His hands still held firm on your thighs, his fingers were gripping so tightly you knew they wouldn’t escape unmarked. Your back arched off the bed, moans tumbling from your lips in a hushed tone, your own hands grasping the thin bed sheets. 

He pulled back after a moment and clicked his tongue. “Oh c-come on, I know you c-can be louder than that, you run your mouth too much to be q-quiet now.” 

You opened your mouth to protest with furrowed brows, but he quickly returned his tongue to your clit, this time sucking it roughly into his mouth. You let the moans and whimpers spill, unashamed of whoever may hear it, your hands coming to find purchase in his brown curls. Your light tugging urged him to slip two long fingers into your sopping entrance. The surprise caused you to squeak, hips bucking as he curled them into the spot that made your walls contract around him. His pace sped up, each harsh suck of your clit building pressure in you until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your head was thrown back, eyes screwed shut as the coil snapped, your walls threatening to keep his fingers from escaping with how much they squeezed. 

He didn’t stop until your breathing calmed and you pitifully pushed his head away, babbling about how you were sensitive. Slowly, teasingly, he pulled his fingers out, maintaining perfect eye contact, and put them in his mouth, licking them clean. He swiftly took off his clothes and swiped the tip of his hard cock against your folds, collecting your cum on his head before lining it up with your hole. He was big, not too wide but definitely made up for it in length. You had a feeling it would take a minute to get used to, but judging by the impatient lust swirling in Toby’s eyes, you wouldn’t get much time to adjust. 

“Look at you.” He breathed. “S-so high and mighty before and now here you are, l-learning what you’re good for.”

“I d-” You were cut off by your own gasp when he pressed into you, burying the head in your plush walls. 

“Sorry, w-what was that?” His voice was mocking and snide as he moved your legs to rest your calves on his shoulders. He lowered his body, manhandling you into a mating press so he could hover above your face. 

“You’re an asshole.” Each word was punctuated by heavy breathing and was rewarded with him swiftly bottoming out inside you. A strangled noise of shock came from you, hands flying to push back on his shoulders.

He lowered his head to your ear to deliver a dangerous whisper. “I don’t think you’re in a position to t-talk back to me.” He pulled out, agonizingly slow before slamming back into you, forming a quick and painful pace. You felt so full, like you would split in half, unable to form anything but piteous cries with every hit to your gspot. Eventually, the pain began to subside as you grew accustomed to his length and the brutal pace he set, every roll of his hips a shot of electricity straight to your core. He brought one hand down to play with your clit, the other snaking to grip roughly around your throat, cutting off your air supply. His thumb pressed into one of the spots he left on your neck, causing a dull ache to greet you. Your head spun, dizzily clenching around him with every deep thrust and every labored pant that he let out into your ear. 

You felt your second orgasm start to build from his relentless actions, clit throbbing from his abuse. It was like he could sense you were close, somehow speeding up his thrusting until you saw stars, vision growing hazy from air loss. Your hand pulled weakly on his wrist, lungs begging for relief but he refused to let up. It only seemed to make the pressure in your core burn more, only made the pleasure of his cock more intense, only made his sultry growls more arousing. You felt like you could explode. Your nails dug into the skin of his wrist as you threatened to do just that, eyes rolling back in your head. 

“Toby, I’m gonna-” You struggled out the best you could with him still depriving you of oxygen. 

“Cum for me slut, cum around my cock.” Was all he said, and much to your dismay you obeyed. You let your orgasm wash over you, milking his cock. He fucked you through it, letting off your clit and neck to rest his hands on either side of your head. You heaved, thankful to finally be able to breathe properly again. He kept pounding you over and over, until without warning, he buried himself to the base, spilling his own release into you as deep as he could and pressing a surprisingly soft and loving kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, you both stayed there a moment, foreheads pressed together, your legs shaking. 

“I’m s-sorry,” He mumbled. “F-for being so rude to you lately.” 

You could only smile as he slowly pulled out of you, gently lowering your legs back onto the bed. “You can make it up to me by not pushing me away anymore. I really like you Toby, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t.” You watched him admire the way his cum slipped out of you and onto the mattress.

He returned your smile after a moment and pressed another gentle kiss to your lips. “C-can you stand?” He asked, getting off the bed.

You struggled to push yourself up, swinging your wobbly legs over the side and almost crumbling to the ground as soon as your feet hit the floor. Almost like he was expecting it, he caught you and threw your arm over his shoulder to hoist you up. 

“Let's get you cleaned up.” He said, leading you into the little bathroom, triumph coating his voice. Tim and Brian would never let either of you hear the end of this.

Support this story on AO3! username- rosesandropeburns

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63019126

[chrisevansredbelt]

Playing Dangerous

pairing: dbf!frank castle x reader

warnings: not really any! this is kind of a backstory intro. death, funeral, smoking, drinking, drugs, and the sheer thought of jon bernthal.

summary: after your fathers death, you find yourself familiarising yourself with his best friend. his hot, dilfy, big thighed best friend.

multiple parts planned! all inspired by lana del rey songs

a/n: me when im back bc i missed writing... anyway this is a somewhat different universe to my og dbf!frank story but also not because it follows the same concept of lana del rey songs.

ALSO even though it is frank castle... im using characters from the bear... sorry i guess i really am only using frank because of the name i just didnt feel right writing jon or michael SORRY

and i am also using sex and the city characters too okay im sorry if nothing makes sense now but ENJOY

playing dangerous by lana

.・。.・゜.☘︎ ݁˖ ・.・𝄞・゜・。.

Pulling up beside the familiar cars parked in front of the church, Frank swiftly gets out of his truck, shutting the car door behind him. His brother Carmen, and cousin Richie, stand by their cars, gathering however once Frank approaches them.

"Thought we weren't gonna see another one of these until it was one of our own and when we're 80." Richie notes, hands on hips as the three of them observe the crowd of black disappearing through the church doors.

Frank scoffs, "Yeah, well, Brock loved stupid games." He marvels at the amount of people who showed up. Brock always made note of how many enemies he had, he must have forgot to mention how many friends he had too.

Brock was Franks best friend. Ever since being enlisted together, they were pretty inseparable. They then went on to work with each other, shady business that subsequently cost Brock his life.

Brock was on the run from police... corrupt police who would do anything for $20 and a donut. Brock had a hit out on him ever since fucking over an old acquaintance by insulting his wife.

As cops chased him down one night, he was cornered. Brock ended up shooting and killing the cop he hated but was subsequently shot and killed by another.

Some good did end up coming about Brock's passing though, as an investigation was launched into the dead officer and the bribe's he took. Which ended up revealing an international bribe ring of some sort that landed Brock's enemy in jail with a hefty sentence.

Frank wished he had been with him that night, wondering if Brock's life could have been spared in any way. But on the flip side, Frank knew that Brock would have died happy killing the officer he hated so much and recalled the many nights Brock had confessed his disdain against the lifestyle he landed himself in.

"At least he's with his wife now." Carm then adds, earning a nod from the others.

As the last of the guests enter the building, Frank decides it's probably time to follow suit.

As painful as it would be to see his best friend no longer living, they all had a few words to say in the session and there was no backing out now.

Though everyone was still finding their seats, when the three men had entered, they had all still managed to give them pitiful looks. Eyes reading 'Sorry for your loss'.

The three of them make their way to the front row of seats, joining the few others that had clearly arrived earlier.

"Hey," Their sister, Natalie, smiles up at them, scooching over on the pew as they take their seats next to her. They offer greeting smiles back. Frank gazes around the church, admiring the many eyes of religious figures that stare back at him. "Hey, did you see his daughter turned up?" Natalie adds in a quiet whisper, making the three of them shoot their heads around in the direction of her gaze.

There, in the front row beside them sat you. Brock's only child and daughter. Everyone kind of just knew of you and your existence, but never actually saw you.

Though Brock always bragged and boasted about you, how beautiful you were, how proud of you he was, the truth was that he rarely saw you. A few years after he had left you, he occasionally made the effort to at least see you on birthdays and Christmas. But his visits slowly died off.

The relationship was still there, you texted and he sent you letters and money, but you lived with your friend and her family for most of your teen years.

Richie nudged Carmen, wiggling his brows, whilst Frank just takes you in. The men can’t help but ogle at you. You were almost like a fable or myth, and seeing you now for the first time ever was strange.

"Poor kid." Natalie purses her lips, brows furrowed in concern.

Frank knew he had to speak to you. Maybe it was the fact that you were his life long best friend’s daughter. Or maybe it was the funny feeling in his stomach as his eyes scanned your figure.

-

You watch as people leave in their expensive cars down the gravel road, sighing in relief at the lack of attention you were now getting.

Your father was laid to rest in the cemetery beside the church, in a space next to your mother.

Though few people still linger around their cars parked on the other side of the church, you keep your head down and make your way back up the church steps, pushing your way through the big, wooden doors.

You were glad no one else was here. Your social battery was drained for the month after today and you didn’t think you could take another ‘I’m so sorry for your loss’, ‘Your dad was a great man’, ‘I’m sure he’s happy to be reunited with your mother’, 'I didn't know he had a daughter'.

You made your way to a random row and knelt on both knees, clasping your hands in front of you and bowing your head.

You weren't entirely religious, nor did you really know what you were praying for. All you knew was that if someone saw you, they would at least respect the gesture and leave you alone.

Wrong.

You hear the church doors open behind you and you close your eyes, quietly sighing. Whoever it is, they do not speak, but you can feel their eyes burning a hole through your back.

Out of curiosity, you lift up your head and turn to the back of the church.

Oh?

"Hi," The man greets sheepishly, "I'm sorry if I’m interrupting.” A small, reassuring smile on his face. You stay silent but shake your head softly, allowing him to continue. He takes a few steps closer, "I'm Frank."

You blink up at him a few times until you connect the dots on who this Frank person really was (and stop ogling at his god-like face) "Oh." You let out accidentally, before clearing your throat and correcting yourself, "Yeah, I’m familiar with the name." You choke out, standing from your kneeling position out of respect... though you wouldn't entirely mind staying down there- God, you mentally slap yourself and remind yourself that you're in a church. And on top of that, you knew of Frank to be your dad’s friend... his best friend. You never saw him or heard anything else about him other than him being your dad’s best friend, but it was nice to finally put a pretty face to the name, “I’m Y/N.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He smiles warmly now, extending a hand out for you to shake which you do so quite timidly, "Listen, if you need anything… I know you've probably heard that a lot today, but I'm probably the only one who really means it." He jokes and you can't help but let out a small smile.

“Thank you.” You nod. He was right though. Out of all of them, Franks did seem the most genuine. "Thanks for taking the time to check up on me."

He nods in response before reaching into his back pocket, pulling out a wallet and from that wallet, a small card, "Here, take my number." You take the small business card from him, "If you really ever need anything, reach out… If I had knew your dad would pass so soon, I’m sure I would’ve promised him to look out for you.”

You weren’t annoyed by Frank’s social interaction, unlike everybody else who talked to you today. Everyone else just seemed so full of shit. And Frank at least knew who you were.

-

You watch as another car passes by before sighing. The heat was starting to get to you a little and as the sun began to set, it landed opposite you, blinding your eyes.

After the funeral, you made the decision to walk to the closest bus stop and make your way back home that way. Though you caught an Uber to the church, you couldn’t bare any more questions or painfully awkward small talk about your day. So you opted for the bus.

The area was nice in any case, a small neighbourhood 20 minutes from Manhattan where you used to live as a child.

It was nice to experience the silence as well. You were so used to the loud of the city that you’d almost forgotten what it was like to just sit with nothing but the birds, the bugs and the leaves. And to actually see the sun without being blocked by some high rise building.

As you zoned out, staring at the ground, you hear the bus finally arrive. Only, you thought it was the bus. You look up and you’re met with a black pick up truck coming to a stop right in front of you and now your heart races.

The window rolls down and a familiar face slightly judges you, "You seriously taking the bus?"

You stand from your seat, small kitten heels clanking against the concrete as you step closer to Franks truck.

You're kind of loss for words. You had made sure to linger in the church for a while and only left when you believed everyone else to have already left. Frank must have stalled in the cemetery or something?

“I..." You start, "I thought it would be relaxing.” You explain vaguely, shrugging your shoulders. Frank quirks a brow and you sigh in defeat, “I didn’t feel like talking to nosy Uber drivers.”

Frank cracks a smile, shaking his head and reaches over to the passenger door, unlocking it for you, "Get in."

You're unsure what it is that makes you give in to getting into his car. Perhaps that Frank was probably the closest thing to your father that you were ever going to get in your life and you automatically felt safe with him. Whatever it was, it felt right.

Jumping into his car, you get comfortable, admiring the interior of it. You couldn’t help but notice, however, the faint smell of either cigar or weed lingering in the car, mixed with the efforts of the Black Ice air freshener dangling from his rear view.

Not only this, but you see his packet of cigarettes in his cup holder.

You’d been dying for a cigarette ever since the funeral started, but couldn’t bring yourself to whip one out as you walked to the bus stop- more concerned about your heels and feet surviving the journey rather than your urge for nicotine. And you refrained from doing so at the bus stop in case it pulled up any second.

“May I?” You ask after rummaging through your purse and holding up the small box of sticks.

“Go ahead.” Frank shrugs with a soft smile, “Where do you live?”

You blow out your plume of smoke out the previously opened window, offering it to him, “West 84th.”

“Upper West side.” He notes with an impressed nod, taking your cigarette from you gratefully.

You raise your brows a little, you could not believe it either that you lived there now, "Inheritance came in handy."

The drive to the city with Frank was nice. It wasn’t awkward and you were able to keep a steady conversation. You could definitely see why Frank was a life long friend.

"Which one is it?" Frank asks, cutting your thoughts short as he pulls into your street.

"This white one here." You point and Frank's lucky that there's a vacant spot out front. He seems impressed by your house as he leans over his wheel to get a look at it while he parks.

To be truthfully honest, you were a little bummed once you had come to a stop.

"Do you wanna come in?" You don't even realise what you're asking until it's already out and Frank's looking at you dumbly. Fuck. “I-I just got so much of his stuff, m-maybe you can help me figure out what to do with it?” You try to cover up.

You internally cringe however as you wait for his answer. Why the hell did you just invite this man into your home without hesitation?

You really didn't expect the words to come out of your mouth. But what was even more surprising was Frank's answer, "Sure."

You take Frank up the small stairs to your house, unlocking the door, “Sorry, it’s a bit messy.” You apologise as he walks in after you. You watch as he takes in your apartment and feel a little insecure for some reason. God, what did it matter what this man thought of your brand new apartment?

“No, it's nice.” He nods and you feel yourself relax. He makes his way into your living room and stares at the piles of boxes and plastic covered furniture. The last of your furniture had arrived yesterday and you had no time, or energy (or frankly manpower for that matter) to sort it out.

"It's a work in progress." You sigh, "I always imagined this to be something my dad would have helped me with." You admit and again, cringe at yourself for being so depressing.

"I can always lend a hand?" Frank offers.

You open and close your mouth like a fish. You didn't mean for Frank to get to that conclusion but at the same time, Frank seemed like he was already going to offer. But you were too humble to say yes, even if you were too cheap to get movers (even though you now had money, old habits never die) and you were convinced you could do it on your own.

But now that Franks offering, you’d be stupid to decline.

The one thing that needed to be put together was your bed, but aside from that your furniture was old, vintage pieces. They were also light so it’s not like it would be entirely arduous labour for Frank, but it would just mean a lot less chain smoking and broken nails for you.

You ended up ordering pizza for the both of you and fuelled Frank with beer as he got to work on setting up your furniture. You helped him out with the light work, but you mostly just smoked and chatted away.

Frank had no issue with it though.

Frank told you many stories about your dad. You realised Franks memories with him definitely outnumbered your own, which was humbling to say the least.

You found the both of you now seated on the hardwood floor of your home, taking a break as you take the time to really talk and eat.

"Can I ask..." Frank starts carefully, and you're mindless to what he's about to ask, "Did you resent your dad?" His question makes you put down your drink, " It's just- you seem to be taking his passing quite well and you were actually at the funeral... Most people I know in a situation like yours wouldn't do such a thing."

You dart your eyes around the room, running the question through your head. You, too, had realised that your own fathers passing hadn't made you a hysterical wreck, like it would have made most people. You also questioned why.

When you got the news that your dad died, you cried but only sparingly and never again after that day. But you went to class the next day, drinks with the girls the next. What the hell was wrong with you?

"I know the shady shit he did killed my Mom." You tell Frank, "I did actually resent him for a while for leaving, then I accused him of killing her and didn't talk to him for a few years." You admit shamefully, "But as I got older, I understood him leaving was keeping me safe and I couldn't argue with that... As for the day he died..." You begin, but take a second to find the words, "I don't know... I guess... it's like he's not really gone." You say, but watch as Frank tilts his head a little in confusion, "Well, he is gone... but it's felt like that for a long time now... Maybe I'm used to it." You feel as though you've just solved the mystery. You feel hot all of a sudden, looking up at Frank and seeing his eyes staring right back at yours. You clear your throat, "Um- What about you? H-How did you handle it?"

"Oh, man." He starts, shaking his head, "It was one of the worst days of my life... I was a wreck." He admits. This might be unfair to say, but you didn't expect a man like Frank to be so open about his emotions, "But your father was all about seeing the good and I just thought, he would kick my ass if he saw me like this instead of celebrating the life we had together and the man he was."

It was silent after that, but you must note that it was a comfortable silence. You let each other sit with the feelings from the conversation had and it felt nice.

Frank is the first to break the silence, by nudging your foot with his, “But what's up with you, girl? Are you in college?”

You smile at him and his effort to lighten the mood a little, “I graduated last year in journalism.” You sigh. It wasn’t anything groundbreaking, certainly not for New York. But it was the only thing that really interested you- having spent most of your formative years journaling your each and every thought, experience and emotion. Writing just came natural to you, “What about you? Are you married?”

Fuck, was that too forward?

“I am not married, no.” Frank answers anyway, with a laugh even.

You would be lying if you said you didn't search for a ring when he first introduced himself to you. What could you say, he was a gentlemen. And plus, you wanted to ask in case you just so happened to be keeping him from her by having pizza and beer at your house while he helps you build your furniture.

Yep, that's the only reason.

Frank only stayed for about an hour longer after that. It had gotten pretty late anyway and you were both tired from the day you had.

You walked Frank to the door, giving him a new case of beer as a means of thanks. Seriously, with Frank's help, all you really have left to do is unpack your boxes and decorate the house.

“Thanks for all your help, Frank.” You say, unable to even recall how many times you've expressed your thanks today.

“And I mean it when I said to call me if you need anything.” He reminds, pointing at you and you roll your eyes.

If you were dying or in jail, maybe. But you didn't have many plans to bother Frank. You wish you could-

“Where do you live?” You ask, simply out of curiosity... or desire to be in his presence longer.

“Engelwood.”

You widen your eyes, but then furrow your brows, “You drove me all the way here even though you lived like 5 minutes away from the church?” You ask in disbelief. He just laughs as an answer, meanwhile you're rummaging to the side through your foyer drawers and handing him a bunch of crumpled President Jacksons, “Here.”

He laughs down at the money, pushing it back to you, “Sweetheart, I’m not taking your money.”

You look at the money shoved into your chest in defeat. But you know he's not going home without something, “Fine.” You mutter before digging through your purse on the same table.

You pull out your metal cigarette case and hand him a pre-roll that you planned to smoke after the funeral.

Frank looks at it longingly, averting his gaze back and forth before slowly bringing a hand up to take it, “Fan of the Blazy Susan’s I see.” He notes, eyeing the pink paper and you roll your eyes.

“Oh, is it too girly for you?” You mock, leaning against your door, contempt now that you've paid your dues.

He tucks the joint behind his ear in response, “Whoever you're buying from, tell 'em you've found someone new."

You're not surprised Frank grows and sells, but you scoff at his persistent concern about you, "I'm sure my weed isn't laced." You assure him.

He shrugs, "Maybe not, but at least mines free."

He had you there. Weed was an expensive habit and you'd considered stopping for a while now, but could never bring yourself to do it. And now that is free and most definitely safe, you wonder if you'll ever stop.

You bid Frank a final farewell and safe drive as he takes the steps down to his car. You wait and watch as he drives down the road and only retreat back inside once he's around the corner.

You can't help but miss his company now that the house is quiet, but lingers his smell.

And as Frank drives through the quiet streets of the city, he can't help but wonder... as do you as you flop into bed...

'Why do I feel this way?' Shortly accompanied with, 'Would it really be that bad?'

.・。.・゜.☘︎ ݁˖ ・.・𝄞・゜・。.

MANY PARTS TO COME

i hope ive hooked you in, im excited for this series

thanks for reading okey byeeee

[ac1dmeow]

can you write a meet cute with au!powder??

powder x female reader

cw: fluff, non-established relationship, wlw content

the sun was shining, the air was warm, and you couldn’t have felt more content while walking down the bustling street of chatting townies. with your box of new supplies in your arms that you’ve been so excited to acquire, your day couldn’t be bothered even if someone tried.

POOM!

suddenly you’re on your butt on the cement. books and gadgets lay around you haphazardly, a few cogs rolling in random directions. then you’re hearing a raspy feminine voice panic above you,

“oh! i am so sorry! please, let me help you!”

a girl seemingly you’re age bends down to your level, and you’re met with a rather pretty view. all lanky limbs and blue hair tied up into two buns on her head, and choppy bangs lining her forehead that are oddly endearing.

you’re gaping for a moment before you realize, and shake your head. “nah, it’s nothing.” you bite your lip nervously while you help the stranger gather your stuff back into your flimsy cardboard box.

before you can even grab it yourself, the girl is hoisting the box into her arms as she stands. you immediately follow after, not sure what to say.

“you got an interesting lot, here. do you attend the academy?” she asks you curiously. then she seems to remember that she’s still holding your stuff and hands it back over to you. your arms suddenly feel like they’re made of jello.

“uh-huh.” you say.

“well that’s a fun coincidence. so do i!” the blue haired girl chirps. “the name’s powder.”

she’s holding out her hand for you to shake. and you just stare at it for a few seconds.

“oh no way!” you finally manage to respond. you almost fumble your box when you reach out to grab her hand. it feels warm and inviting—it makes you wonder how it would feel to have her arms around you. gosh, chill out.

“cute name. i’m y/n.” you nearly surprise yourself with the sly flirt. and it could be wishful thinking but you swear you see powder’s cheeks darken, and it makes you automatically smile.

“uhh haha, thanks!” she chuckles. a beat of silence passes where you watch her fix a strand of blue hair out of place. and that’s when you notice the streak of pink. how much more intriguing can this girl get?!

“where were you off to?”

powder’s question makes your heart leap. you swear your whole body lights up and you have to stop yourself from bouncing on your toes excitedly.

“to my dorm actually. i have a project i have to set up…” you realize it sounds like you’re turning down a possible invitation to hangout with powder. but then you realize she hadn’t actually asked for anything of the sort and she could actually just be curious about what the hell you were doing with a box of random scraps and books.

powder’s mouth opens to speak when suddenly a gruff voice from beside you makes both of your heads whip around.

“OI! get out of the middle of the road, wouldja!? folks got places to be ya know.”

both of you step to the side away from a mean looking old man like he’s the plague, unkept and frail leaning on a cane as he mumbles profanities and insults under her breath as he wobbles past.

“would you wanna exchange dorm numbers? maybe one of us can stop by and we can hangout sometime.” powder suggests calmly as if that didn’t happen.

you whip your head back around to face her. it takes you a moment to fully grasp what she said.

oh. my. god. a pretty girl just asked to hangout. she’s actually interested in you romantically. is this really happening!? oh-em-gee, oh-em-gee, oh-em-gee—

“yeah for sure! i’m 606 on the sixth floor!” your words are rushed and adrenaline-filled and you hope to whatever is out there that this girl can’t tell how ecstatic you feel right now. you hug the box tighter to your chest.

“oh hey, i’m just on the other end of the hall!” powder exclaims. “i’m in 624. gee, no wonder i haven’t seen you around yet. although, i’m also kinda surprised.” she snorts.

your head tilts. “so am i…”

another beat passes.

powder smirks and stands up straight. “i’ll let you go now. don’t wanna hold you up for too long—gotta get a head start on that project, amirite!?”

she begins to walk the opposite way you were heading, and your gaze follows her as she too seems to keep looking at you.

“you better show me that project once it’s finished! i have plans of seeing it.”

you giggle. your box nearly falls out of your arms again when a random bumps into you but you can barely pay any mind.

“i’ll make sure of it!” you shout. and then both of you are lost amongst the crowd once more.

-

a/n: sooo.. happy valentine’s day ? 😀