#this one is very different in tone though

[aleskie-hischier]

Best Friend | Lando Norris x Reader Summary: This is what it feels like to be in love with your best friend

Warnings: None :)) Just fluffy moments in your relationship with Lando!

“You promised not to laugh,” Lando said, pouting as you tried—and failed—to hide your grin behind your hand. The corners of your mouth betrayed you, threatening to give way to the laugh you were desperately holding back.

“I’m not laughing,” you managed to choke out, though your eyes told a very different story.

“You’re being mean,” he all but whines.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you said, standing up from the bed and reaching to ruffle his curls, “It’s really not that bad.”

It was that bad. 

His haircut was…well, let’s just say the barber had done him no favors. The fade was patchy and uneven, and the length was so short it bordered on tragic. But despite the mess, he looked undeniably cute—though you weren’t about to let him off the hook without teasing him first.

“Now you’re just lying,” he muttered, his lips pursing as he entwined his fingers with yours.

“I’m not,” you insisted, cupping his face with your free hand, thumb brushing gently over his cheek. “Look, it’s easy to cover with a cap, and your helmet does all the work during races anyway. No one will even notice.”

“You noticed.”

“I live with you,” you said, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I see you every day.” Another kiss, this time on the other cheek. “I notice everything about you.”

A soft, breathy chuckle escaped him as he let his head rest on your shoulder. “Do you think I still look pretty?”

“You always look pretty,” you assured him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He pulled you closer, his embrace warm and comforting. “No barber could ever ruin that.”

A beat passed, then you added with a teasing smile, “But, for the record, your hair does look like shit, bubba.”

He laughed, the sound filling the room and lighting up your heart. You had a feeling his favorite cap was going to get a lot of mileage in the days ahead—or at least until he decided his hair was back to normal.

You were typing away on your laptop, racing against deadlines before the upcoming race weekend. Clearing your workload now meant you could fully enjoy cheering on your boyfriend as he gave it his all on home turf. Normally, staying focused was easy—especially with the promise of a weekend spent as his biggest cheerleader, a role you thoroughly loved.

But today? Today, your boyfriend was making it very difficult to get anything done.

“Lando,” you warned, your tone a mix of exasperation and amusement, “I swear, if you don’t let go, you’ll be at Silverstone alone.”

Lando was currently bent over, arms wrapped snugly around you as you worked at the dining table. Every so often, he would hum some random tune and sway side to side, forcing you to sway along with him.

“I thought you liked my hugs,” he teased, placing a kiss on the top of your head. You could practically feel the mischievous smile on his lips—he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I do like your hugs,” you said, shooting him a pout, “But only when they don’t mess with me while I’m working.”

He chuckled, planting another kiss to your hair, clearly pleased with his antics, before finally releasing you and plopping down in the chair next to yours.

“Oh! I’m free!” you exclaimed dramatically, throwing your arms up in mock surprise before sticking your tongue out at him. Without missing a beat, you turned back to your laptop, ready to dive back into work.

For a while, the room was peaceful. He sat quietly, scrolling through his phone, the occasional TikTok audio or soft giggle breaking the silence. It was nice—a balance between shared space and focus.

And then he got bored. 

You could feel it before you saw it. The subtle shift in his energy, the way his chair creaked as he stood, the deliberate slowness of his steps. You didn’t look up, hoping he’d wander off to his game room or find something else to occupy himself.

But, of course, that wasn’t what was going to happen.

He stopped behind you, standing there silently as if planning his next move. You kept typing, pretending not to notice, but your fingers hesitated when he suddenly dragged your chair back from the table.

“Lando, wha—!” You gasped, only for him to scoop you up, lifting you into his arms.

“Hey!” you protested, half-laughing, as he carried you bridal style to the couch. He plopped you down gently before settling himself on top of you, his head resting right over your heart.

With his weight anchoring you and his arms snug around your waist, your laptop—and your deadlines—were officially forgotten.

 You let out a soft sigh, your hands instinctively beginning to draw lazy circles on his back. “You’re so lucky I tolerate you,” you teased, your tone light but affectionate.

“You love me, actually,” he countered, his voice muffled against your shirt. You could feel his lips curve into a smug smile.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you replied, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see.

Undeterred, he nuzzled deeper into you, his curls tickling your chin. “You do,” he insisted, his words vibrating through your chest.

You chuckled, the warmth of his presence making it impossible to argue. “I do. I really do.”

“We’ve seen that movie a million times. We need to watch something else,” Lando groaned, leaning back against the couch cushions.

“But, Lando! It’s Mean Girls! You can never get enough Mean Girls!” you shot back, clutching the remote dramatically.

“You can,” he insisted, his eyes narrowing at you with a mix of exasperation and fondness. “Especially when we’ve watched it like a million times. Every single movie night, love. Every. Single. One. For the last two months.”

“It’s a great movie,” you mumbled, pouting.

Lando rolled his eyes, though the smile tugging at his lips gave him away. He slid closer from his side of the couch, his hand brushing yours. “It is a good movie,” he admitted, leaning in to place a quick kiss on your cheek. “But I swear, I can recite it line by line at this point.”

His lips found yours for a brief, teasing kiss before he added, “Besides, we need to watch new films. Preferably ones that don’t inspire you to cut holes in my tank tops so I, quote, ‘look like Regina George.’”

You pouted, pursing your lips dramatically. “They’re a timeless fashion statement.”

“Timeless, my ass,” he laughed, shaking his head as his hand lingered on yours, “But fine. One last time, okay? After this, we’re expanding your movie taste.”

“Deal,” you said with a grin, snuggling into his side as the opening credits rolled.

The two of you fell into an easy silence, the flickering glow of the TV casting soft shadows across the room. As the movie played, Lando’s hand traced absentminded shapes along your arm, and your head rested comfortably on his shoulder.

Midway through, his voice broke the quiet. “When we’re old and gray,” he murmured, his tone soft, “And we’re still arguing about what to watch, you better have more suggestions than just Mean Girls.”

You chuckled, cuddling closer to him. But the movie wasn’t holding your attention anymore. Instead, your thoughts wandered to the idea of growing old together.

You imagined those future arguments, the two of you bickering playfully in the living room of a house that had become a home. He’d probably still let you win, just like he always did, and you’d end up asleep together on the couch halfway through whatever you’d picked. 

You pictured racing each other down the stairs, canes in hand, laughter filling halls lined with photos of your children and grandchildren. You saw the teasing, the banter, the moments when he’d drive you up the wall—only to have you laughing seconds later. And no matter what, you’d always go to bed holding each other’s hand.

“I’m glad I fell in love with you,” you murmured as the ending credits rolled. Lando stretched, shifting to shake off the stiffness of sitting on the couch for so long.

“Oh yeah?” He glanced down at you with a playful smirk. “What makes you say that?”

You leaned closer, resting your head against his chest. His warmth and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat felt like home. “Life would be so boring without you,” you said softly.

He chuckled, his arms lazily draping around you. “Well, I am pretty fun.”

“But also…” Your gaze flicked up to his face, taking a moment to admire the myriad of colors in his eyes. “You’re my best friend.”

His lips twitched into a grin. “Don’t let Max hear you say that, love. He might have a lot to say about you claiming his title.”

You scoffed, pulling away with mock indignation as he laughed. “Never mind. I take it all back,” you teased, standing to make your way to the kitchen for a snack.

But before you could take a step, Lando caught your wrist and tugged you back. You landed with a soft laugh in his lap, his arms wrapping securely around you from behind. He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck, the warmth of his lips sending a gentle shiver down your spine, before resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I don’t think I could’ve fallen this hard for anyone else,” he said, his voice low and filled with sincerity, “There’s no one else I’d rather love than you.”

You could feel his smile against your skin, and it made your heart swell.

“You’re my best friend, too,” he added, his words wrapping around you like a soft blanket.

You turned slightly to look at him, your smirk returning. “Don’t tell Fewtrell that. He might get sad.”

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine, filling the quiet of your apartment. The dim glow of the apartment lights cast long shadows, but neither of you paid them any mind. All that mattered was the comfort of being together, blanketed in a world that was just yours.

Silently, as you laid in his arms, you wished that things would never change.

[r-1-der]

warnings: i love her boobs, banter, a little dirty talk, cum eating, ab riding. might re-visit this later.

you nuzzled your face against her stomach, holding onto her sides, your tongue peeking out to lick over her toned midsection.

her hand found its way to your hair, using it to pull you up, but you swatted her away.

"quit that, let me admire you."

"i dont come to you to be 'admired'." she pulls you harsher, forcing you up. with a huff and a wince you straddle her stomach instead, underwear separating the two of you.

"i dont care what you come to me for," you say placing your hands down on her tits to squeeze them while you lioked down on her. her hair astray, long out of her old weak hairtie, her cheeks healthily flushed, and that dark lipstick smeared across her mouth and jaw.

"fuck... look at you, pretty."

sevika rolled her eyes at the name, not one for sweet-talk, though her warm hand pushed up against your stomach, gliding towards your chest, not an ounce of shame in her as she ogled you.

you smirked to yourself and pushed her hand away, earning yourself a raised eyebrow.

"really?"

"really. no touching."

"why do i bother coming here? remind me."

"your wallet is running dry, thats why. your girls at babettes might be pretty, but so are the pennies theyre worth."

she only closed her eyes as you continued playing with her chest, leaning down to lick and suck across her dark nipples, truly believing you were enjoying the sensation more than she was, even with her breathy sounds.

scratching your nails down her stomach you ground your hips down against her strong abdomen, letting her nipple go, leaving it wet and cold for sevika to, probably, grimace at.

you bit your lip as you looked down at her, even with her endless complaining she did look very content every time she landed herself in your old bed.

"...what are you doing?" she asks with furrowed brows.

"enjoying you," you say, your hips moving back and forth with languid movements over her muscles, sighing as your shoulders slump at the feeling.

"thats enjoyable to you?" she moved her hands again to drag them up your working thighs.

"its hot."

"it is?" they settled onto your hips with her question, her voice low as she spoke. she pushed and pulled against your motions, drawing you down tighter onto her abs, causing your mouth to fall open. "you going to cum like that?"

"mhm... yeah, mh, it was the plan," you say grinding against her stomach, eyes closed in concentration over the new sensation. it was different than her thigh, or her hand, or her face, or most importantly, her pussy. but still her and impossibly good as your hands gripped onto her.

"yeah? take your panties off." sevika tells you, slipping her fingers under the waistband. you didnt even brother to get off her to work them down your legs, the maneuvering was awkward at best, and you pretending you didnt notice it when you kicked her. eagerly you settled down against her again with a moan.

"good girl... so desperate to cum on me," she guided your movements.

"hah.. you want to talk about 'good girl'? always so eager to take my cum. just love to be covered in it, dont you?" you taunted with your ragged voice, it was too easy to get off with this woman, on this woman.

"its charity." a slap landed on your ass where she harshly grabbing it to pull you down harder onto her stupidly sculpted body, her tight stomach.

"oh fuck..."

you tipped your head back with a moan. it didnt take much work to have you cumming across the planes of her stomach, trembling on top of her as her already wet skin soaked in your cum.

she pulled you down to kiss across your cheek and down to your jaw, smearing her lipstick further onto you too. you slowly caught your breath laying on her as she kissed and sucked lightly onto your neck and jaw. it was an oddly intimate moment.

"you made a mess," she murmurs below your ear.

"you liked it," you murmur back.

"lick it up, since you want to hump me like a dog."

you bit your lip at her low command being delivered straight into your ear. the way down wasnt long by any means, though you took your time kissing a trail down her form. you faced the wet pool on her abs, smelling yourself.

"good..." she mumbles to the feeling of your warm tongue lapping up your own cum, knowing youd have your fill of hers later.

[ashkabbom]

Temporary stresses - Mouthwashing

A/n: I disappeared but I'm back. I finished school and I'm officially on vacation 😋. I had another idea initially, but then I gave up writing to Curly with that one.🎀 Tell me if I wrote something wrong, English is not my first language and I use a translator a lot.

I wanted a story with a happy ending, although it wasn't supposed to end 100% like that 😭

Versão em português no wattpad: Livro de One Shots - Mouthwashing (Conta: ashkabbom)

•Captain Curly x Fem!Reader

Summary/Synopsis: You hate being emotionally raw and your husband has been acting strange lately.

Notes: I wrote this with a happy ending, but in situations like this stress can actually be very dangerous, so be careful if you are going to do this to someone or if you are the person to receive this one day.

You were uncomfortable, to say the least.

It had been seconds, minutes, HOURS, since he had answered you, he avoided you whenever he could! The worst part is that you don't know the reason for all this, even though you told him to tell you when something was bothering him.

He's been acting kind of strange since yesterday. It seemed like you were the only one who was out of touch with all that nervousness and discomfort.

You had been a bit paranoid for some time now, because of these attitudes you didn't know if you had done something and it was eating you alive.

Searching through all your memories and finding nothing you realize you did wrong. Maybe he just got tired?

"I did everything like I always did..." You were rambling on to yourself. Maybe you said something wrong? You know very well that words, no matter how simple they are sometimes, can hurt.

This was all giving you a huge headache and leaving you a mess of emotions. You were just too exhausted.

You were out of the house now, on your lunch break from work, messing around on your phone for a few minutes, more specifically texting your husband, hoping he would answer you like he always did.

He didn't answer you properly, the messages were short and seemed more direct than ever, your husband didn't write and talk to you like that. God, you just wanted to go home.

"You've got that look on your face again." You hear your co-worker, Linda, say and let out a sigh. "What happened now?"

"This is the fourth time we've seen you with that sad, sullen puppy face in the space of 15 minutes," her other friend, Charlotte, says..

"Do you think I'm old?" You ask suddenly.

"What happened to 'Hi friend, I missed you too'? It doesn't exist anymore?" The first woman says.

"Exactly, calm down. You're not old, you're perfect for your age. And old age comes to everyone! It's inevitable." The second friend explains with a raised eyebrow.

"But now it's so different... When we met I was different, my hair, my body... My age..."

"Girl, seriously, what happened? You haven't had these low self-esteem spikes in months, you were so happy" Charlotte says with a sad tone, sitting down next to you.

"That's the problem, I don't know what happened... Since yesterday Curly has been acting a bit strange, avoiding me and being vague at times, but at the same time he's been very short and direct." You think about what your morning had been like that day.

"Oh my, don't be like that, men are a mess all by themselves. I'm not going to put ideas in your head, but let us know if you need help with that." Linda says, running her hand over your back.

"You're still as beautiful as the day you met, so don't worry. If he's going blind and can't see it, take the trash out of your house before it starts stinking up the whole house" Charlotte says, making it clear what she originally meant.

"I just don't know if something happened and he didn't tell me, if I did something and he was uncomfortable..." You love your husband with all your heart, otherwise you wouldn't have married him.

"Girl, put your cards on the table and that man against the wall, if something is going on he will tell you, he is not a lying man" Charlotte advises you in a lighter way now.

"She's right, you have to talk to him, but really talk to him. Just starting a conversation with him won't make him tell you anything... Ask what's going on and if everything is okay." Linda hugs you affectionately. Honestly, maybe this stress is just in your head? You don't know.

"Okay okay, but I'll do it after work, there's still a few more hours until it's time to leave." Grumbling you and your friends get up, heading towards the door while talking about anything now.

You don't know what you would do without them.

Hours had passed since that conversation, it was already getting dark and you were driving home almost completely peacefully.

Being with your friends relieved you a lot, but you still had a little bit of a nagging feeling, not to mention that you also knew that life is not a strawberry and anything can happen.

You were together for 11 years, dating for 4 years and married for 7 years. There was no reason for it all to go down the drain. At least you told yourself that.

You had texted him earlier, saying you were going home now... He hadn't even seen the message, but that's okay! Sometimes he's just busy with... Anything, you think.

Parking the car, you sigh, You hated feeling as tired as you had been feeling lately, you wish you could enjoy some of your time at home instead of just passing out in bed. On the bright side, you were on vacation from your job in 2 days. Just two more days.

Today you would confront him! You would know what was going on with him lately and everything would be okay! Everything has to be okay.

You open the door to the living room and notice the loud silence, seeping through your entire house. You didn't have a good feeling about this..

"Curly? Love?" You call out as you walk through the door and into the room, feeling a little anxious.

You turn to the kitchen and then–

"SURPRISE!" Some voices say/scream at the same time, scaring you at first, but then you notice the cake on the table, balloons, birthday hats, coxinha and other things on the table.

A wave of relief washes over you.

It was your birthday today.

"Happy birthday my love, you don't know how much- Wow, hey, hey! What happened? Why are you crying?" Your husband's cheerful tone soon fades, quickly replaced by a tone of concern.

You hadn't even realized that the wave of relief had brought you to tears, you were crying.

Did something happen? Is she okay?" Anya, Curly's work friend and maid of honor at your wedding a few years ago, asks worriedly, approaching.

"Honey, is something hurting?! Do you need anything? Anything at all? Do you need to go to the hospital?" He was quick to come closer, putting his arms around you as he checked your body with his tender and concerned gaze. God, this was all you wanted.

You try to explain, through your tears, that you're okay, that everything is okay now.

"I thought-" You stop to sniff a few times "I thought you were mad at me. Acting different and distant."

"I told you you sounded thick, but it's amazing how your head doesn't work sometimes." You hear Swansea's voice and let out a laugh through your tears.

"I'm so happy that everything is okay and that you're not mad at me." You explain as you wipe away your tears, soon feeling Curly's hand on your cheek while the other rests on your waist.

"I'm sorry my love, I would never be mad or upset with you, a thousand apologies darling" He says as he peppers your face with kisses, apologizing several times. "Please, I'm so sorry"

"We told him to hide it and not tell you or give you any hints about your surprise party and such, since last time he ended up telling you... But I think asking him to disguise himself wasn't... the best idea" Daisuke says as he analyzes the situation with a disappointed face.

You laugh a little and soon they join you, then a small silence arises, but it is quickly broken.

"So?" Swansea begins

""Is everything okay in there?" Anya asks, looking at you calmly and with a little concern. "Are you feeling any pain?"

"How are you and she?" Daisuke asks in the most direct way.

You sniff one last time and look down, running your hand over your belly.

"I will never make you cry like that again." He finishes with a peck on the lips and runs his hand over your belly. "I will never worry the two girls in my life again. I promise"

You look at him fondly. "We're fine, we just went through a hurricane today and yesterday." You laugh lightly. "Now let's eat this cake, I'm hungry for two."

The others laugh at your answer and soon everyone gathers around the table to celebrate your birthday.

You really hope you never have to go through that worry again, not even Curly would do it again.

You have the most caring husband and your daughter would have the best dad.

[supercap2319]

So I just saw wicked and I desperately need something with Fiyero having his sights set not on Glinda but Glinda’s brother y/n

Y/N Upland always knew that he was different. From a young age, he realized that he didn't fit in with the rest of his family, and not just because he was attracted more to boys than girls. When he was born, Y/N was given the rare gift of ice and snow, bringing great promise to the Upland name.

His mother and father tried to turn his talent into something that would make Y/N think he was better than the rest of the people of Oz, but Y/N didn't want that. He just wanted to be normal. That's why he made himself scarce as much as possible. He dressed in normal clothing and he preferred to be alone, instead of playing with other children his age. Then came Galinda, the pride and joy of the Uplands. Galinda was beautiful and had a certain way of getting whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. The biggest difference between Y/N and his sister… he chose books. She chose looks, and it was certainly working out better for Galinda than Y/N.

She was beloved by all in Gillikin Country. The one everyone thought would succeed, whereas Y/N, would be the first ever person to disgrace his family as the ‘Upland Freak of Nature.’ And maybe they were right. To an extent. The cost of powers always came with a price, and even though Y/N was powerful, he was very bad at controlling them. It was one of the main—if not the most important -- reason to attend Shiz University to gain a better understanding of his powers, and how to properly control them. Unsurprisingly, Galinda was also majoring in sorcery.

That's how he and Galinda arrived on a pink boat to Shiz University, Galinda practically bouncing with excitement. Her pink outfit was pressed and crisp as her nails. “Oh, Y/N! I simply can't wait to attend Madame Morrible's sorcery seminar. I just know I'm going to ace it.” She flashed pretty white teeth that hurt Y/N’s eyes. He pulled his sparkly blue cape over his shoulders. “I'm sure you will, and maybe, just maybe, you'll be able to help me with this.” He made a small snowflake dance on the palm of his hand before closing it.

“Of course, brosicle.” Galinda laughed.

Once they were close enough to the school, Galinda stood on the back of the boat and sat down on her luggage, looking like a queen on her throne. A few students in blue and brown uniforms waved to them as Galinda waved back. Y/N looked down at the water until they were docked. Stepping off the boat, Galinda and her ten thousand pieces of luggage were greeted by their mother and father at the docks.

“Oh, we're so proud of you!” Their father said, as he and their mother gave Galinda kisses. “Thank you. I love you. Just remember, it's not goodbye. It's farewell.” Galinda told them.

“We love you.” Their mother said, finally taking notice of Y/N. “Oh, and you too, sweetie. You'll be good. Probably not as good as your sister, but good enough.” She said.

“Wow. Thank you, mother. Your words of reassurance melt my heart.” Y/N said, tone sarcastic.

Arduenna Upland looks at his son. “You make sure to look after Galinda, Y/N. See to it that she's comfortable, and well taken care of.”

“Of course, father. I wouldn't dream of disappointing you and mother again for the what? Sixtieth time?” He said.

“Just don't do anything to make trouble.” Arudeena said. He looks at Galinda and smiles with happiness and pride. “Have all your kisses? And you will write?”

“Yes. I love you. Sad time. Miss you already.” Galinda said.

“Popsicle board the boat.” Y/N said.

“They are going to miss me so much.”

“Us.”

“Right. That's what I said. Us.” Galinda said.

…

“Attention, students! It is my honor to announce that Fiyero Tigelaar of Winkie country will be filling out our student body. Having transferred from the Royal Winkie Academy. Please help him feel welcome. Without making direct eye contact.”

That's how Y/N and all of the student body at Shiz found themselves in the courtyard by the fountain, waiting for some spoiled Prince from Winkie country. Y/N to suppress the urge to roll his eyes as the Prince rode in on a horse. A blue horse. How original. Lines of male and female suitors were watching as the Fiyero walked passed, his black boots echoing against the ground. Some winked at him, while others twirled their hair in hopes of catching the Prince’s attention. He seemed unbothered.

Fiyero had light brown hair with blonde streaks on it. He wore a tailored navy blue suit with golden trimmings. He headed towards the bulletin board and asked a gawking male student to move as a faculty member checked out his ass. Y/N rolled his eyes from his position across from where Fiyero was. He has been studying with Madame Morrible and another student named Elphaba. He was currently reading a book about the history of ice magic in Oz as he watched Galinda swipe a book from a nearby student, and tried to pretend to be uninterested.

“Are you looking for something?” Galinda asked. She flips her blonde hair dramatically. “Or…someone?”

“No, I was…” Fiyero starts, but stops when his eyes look past Galinda and looked at Y/N.

Y/N frowns. Why was Prince McDimples looking at him like that?

“Sorry…what was I doing?” Fiyero asked.

“How would I know?” Galinda shrugged.

“Maybe it was that young man over there.” Fiyero smiles in Y/N’s direction. Galinda follows his gaze and frowns. “That's Y/N. My brother.”

“Brother you say? Well, I fancy I should meet him as well, don't you agree?”

“I guess.” Galinda pouted as Fiyero had eyes for Y/N, but her.

[creamflix]

hi!!! Can I have a fireplace+toji (naughty) hohoho 🎄

you’ve received a gift! ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ want to check out other gifts? ・:〃➜ click here! 

TOJI wasn’t the type to go for frivolous spending, so when he mentioned getting a fireplace installed, you thought it was one of his rare jokes. 

but here you were, nestled in front of a crackling fire in your cozy living room, the warm, woodsy scent of burning logs filling the space. the heaters had always done their job, but this? this was a different kind of warmth, one that seeped into your bones and made everything feel soft and intimate.

except for your very distracting husband, who was parading around like a damn lumberjack with those logs of wood.

“toji, you sure you don’t want me to help?” you asked from the sofa, knowing full well he wouldn’t let you.

he turned his head just enough to flash you that sly grin. “nah, i got it. wouldn’t want ya chippin' a nail or somethin'.”

you rolled your eyes, though your gaze lingered as he bent down to grab another log. his shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, the muscles in his arms flexing as he moved.

goddamn. was it the fire making the room this hot?

he tossed a log into the fireplace with a grunt that shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was, then straightened up, dusting his hands on his pants as he smirked at you.

"enjoying the view?" he asked, his tone casual but dripping with mischief.

you crossed your arms, trying to play it cool despite the heat pooling low in your stomach. "don’t flatter yourself."

“too late,” he said, grabbing another log with exaggerated ease. “you’re practically drooling over there.”

your cheeks burned, and not from the fire. 

this man. he was doing it on purpose now, flexing unnecessarily and tossing you smug glances.

“alright, that’s enough,” you said, standing abruptly and marching over to him.

“what, can’t handle it?” he teased, his grin widening as you grabbed his wrist and tugged him toward the sofa. 

“where’re you taking me?”

“to remind you who’s the boss around here,” you shot back, pushing him down onto the cushions.

toji didn’t resist — he never did when it came to you — but his smirk never wavered. “oh yeah? you’re the boss now, huh?”

you climbed onto his lap, straddling him as you gripped the front of his shirt. “damn right, i am.”

his hands found your hips immediately, fingers digging into your skin through the fabric of your clothes. “bossy looks good on you,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

“yeah?” you leaned in, your lips hovering over his as your fingers trailed down his chest. “then stop flexing those muscles like a show-off.”

“what can i say?” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “i like watching you squirm.”

you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response, pressing your mouth to his in a kiss that was all teeth and heat, swallowing the smug chuckle that rumbled in his chest.

and as the fire crackled behind you, you reminded toji exactly who was in charge. or at least, that’s what you’d keep telling yourself — because with the way his hands roamed your body, you weren’t sure how long you’d stay on top.

produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡

[drewizz]

THIRD TIME - 02. peripheral

pairing ☆ rafe cameron x reader

WARNINGS: none. (except that the yearning starts..)

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

TAGLIST: open! comment or send in an ask

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peripheral. (adj) related to the key issue but not of central importance

The soft chime of the coffee shop door was as familiar to you every morning, likewise your bitter espresso you ordered. It wasn’t just a part of your routine – it was your peaceful oasis. It was your moment of solitude and silence before the day demanded too much from you. With a content smile and a sigh, you stepped in the shop.

The comforting, aromatic smell of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries wrapped around you, quite a stark contrast to the beachy smell right outside the other side of the door. It was early enough that only a handful of customers lingered, their quiet murmurs of all different conversations blending with the low hiss of the espresso machine and orders being yelled out.

You had already ordered your usual, picking it up from the counter. But then a sharp laugh cut through the hum of the coffee shop.

It was him.

Rafe Cameron.

Of all the places and all the mornings, he had to be here. Leaning casually against the counter, his phone in one hand, looking all effortlessly polished and annoyingly at ease.

Your first instinct was to leave. No coffee was worth this. But then you caught yourself. Why should you let him ruin your morning? This was your place, your time.

You turned your attention back to the pickup counter, as if you were searching for your order. (There was only one drink on the counter.) Maybe, if you stayed quiet and kept your head down, he wouldn’t notice you.

But it’s Rafe, and Rafe always notices.

“Well,” his voice carried across the shop, loud enough to attract a few people’s attention. His smirk followed shortly after, all sharp and cocky. “We meet again. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You ignored him, busily shoving napkins inside your bag.

“Not even a hello?” he teased, stepping closer.

Your jaw tightened, but you didn’t look at him. “I didn’t realize we were on ‘hello’ terms.”

He let out a soft chuckle, more amused than offended. “Fair enough. But you’re not very good at pretending I’m not here, you know.”

You turned then, fixing him with a glare. “What do you want?”

He leaned away from the counter, standing up, tilting his head as if your question genuinely amused him. “What do I want? I guess a conversation. Isn’t that what normal people do?”

You scoffed. “Normal people don’t start conversations by picking fights.”

His grin widened. “I wasn’t picking a fight. Just saying hi.”

“Right,” you said flatly, crossing your arms. “Because you’re so friendly.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You’ve got a lot of fire for someone who barely knows me.”

“And you’ve got a lot of nerve for someone who barely knows me,” you countered back.

Rafe laughed again, the sound surprisingly genuine, though it did nothing to soften the edge of his presence. “I think I know enough.”

“Oh, really?” You challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

He stepped closer, closing the distance between them just enough to make your pulse quicken. “You’re stubborn,” he said, his tone low but teasing. “Quick to snap. And you're getting haughty for no reason.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And you’re arrogant, condescending, and way too full of yourself.”

He held your gaze, his smirk never wavering. “You’re not wrong.”

The audacity of his admission left you momentarily speechless.

“You don’t make conversation. You make trouble,” you muttered, carefully picking up your coffee.

“Trouble?” he repeated, mock-offended. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” you said flatly.

He laughed again, a low sound that grated on your nerves and sent an unexpected flutter through your chest. “So, is this you're way of proving that you’ve got me all figured out already, huh?”

“I don’t need to,” you replied, your voice sharp. “You make it easy.”

For a moment, his smirk faltered, just a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. Then it was gone, replaced by his usual smug expression. “And here I thought you were full of surprises.”

With a roll of your eyes, you were heading straight for the door. However, you didn’t get too far.

“Hey, wait,” Rafe said, his voice stopping you in your tracks.

You turned halfway, one hand on the door, your patience wearing thin. “What now?”

His expression was oddly casual. “What’s your name?”

“You don’t know my name?” Your eyebrows shot up. Huh. You never realized that your name was never mentioned between each other.

“Not yet,” he admitted, the hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “But I figured I’d ask.”

Your pulse quickened – whether from irritation or something else, you couldn’t tell. “Why do you care?”

“Curiosity,” Rafe said simply, his gaze steady.

“Curiosity kills the cat,” you replied, your tone clipped.

His grin widened, and he leaned in closer, slightly dropping his voice. “Good thing I’m not a cat.”

You stared at him, torn between annoyance and the undeniable attraction of his presence. There was something irritatingly pleasant about the way he looked at you, like he was slowly peeling your layers as if you were an orange, trying to reveal a secret deep inside you.

“You don’t need to know my name,” you said finally, forcing your voice to stay steady.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. For a moment, the cocky grin slipped, replaced by something almost close to genuinity. “Fair enough,” he said quietly, surprising you.

But the moment passed quickly. His smirk returned, all sharp and confident. “But you know this isn’t the last time we’ll see each other, right?”

Your fingers tightened around your coffee cup. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Neither,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Just the truth.”

Your stomach twisted in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge. Teeth gritting, you answered. “If you’re done wasting my time, I’ve got places to be.”

He didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. “Hm. See you around then, mystery girl,” he replied with another cheeky smirk – the words somehow seeming to be more promising than needed.

You turned without another word, pushing the door open and stepping into the crisp morning air.

The street outside felt cooler than earlier, a sharp contrast to the heat that Rafe’s presence always seemed to stir. You walked briskly, your coffee in hand, trying to shake the strange sensation away.

But as you walked down the street, his words stayed with you, echoing in your mind.

This isn’t the last time we’ll see each other.

It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t a threat. It was just a fact.

And the worst part? You weren't entirely sure you hated the idea.

Back at the shop, Rafe watched you leave, the door swinging shut behind you with a faint chime. He turned back to the counter, his drink now ready, but he didn’t care about that for now.

He didn’t know why he was so intrigued. You didn’t seem like the other girls he usually spent time with – those who laughed too easily at his jokes and stuck around despite knowing better. Or the ones who listened too easily to what he asked them to do.

You were different.

Maybe it was the fire in your eyes or the way you never backed down even when he pushed. Or maybe it was something else entirely, something he couldn’t quite put into words.

Whatever it was, he knew one thing: this wasn’t going to be the last time he’d see you. All for some reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he didn’t want it to be. 

And he liked it.

NOTES. second day and chapter teww!!!! ngl i was not expecting much interactions but i am already sososo thankful for all the love it's been getting!! very very excited to share the constant yearning and tension (unresolved...??) between rafe and reader.. stay tuuuned

TAGS. @urbrunettebombshell @rafesfavouritegirl

[playboysaleen]

Through Ash and Iron (5)

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape.Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here)This is also a slight AU.(She/her)

Word Count: 6.6k

A/n: Gonna give yall two chaps today cause im cool like that- mind you this a very long fic and just hang on for the ride lol. Enjoy<3

________________________________

The dimly lit underground space smelled of sweat and leather, the rhythmic sound of fists hitting the heavy bag the only thing that filled the silence. Vi’s movements were sharp, precise, every punch an expression of her frustration and focus. Her usual intensity was replaced with something different today—something unresolved. She grunted as her knuckles hit the bag, sweat dripping down her brow. But then the door to the training room creaked open, and Jinx stepped inside with Isha at her side.

Vi paused, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Her eyes fell on Jinx first, noting the tension in her stance, how her usually wild energy seemed subdued, tightly wound up. Isha stood quietly beside her, confusion and concern written all over the girl’s small face.

“Jinx,” Vi said, her voice low, though her eyes were focused on the two. “What’s going on?”

Jinx didn’t answer right away. She walked toward Vi, and as soon as she opened her mouth to speak, Isha’s hand brushed her arm—silent, but a comforting touch. Jinx glanced down at the child, and then, with a heavy sigh, she spoke.

“Caitlyn shot her,” she muttered under her breath, her words dripping with raw emotion. “She tried to kill her… and I—”

The words caught in her throat. The rage she felt toward Caitlyn bubbled under the surface, threatening to overwhelm her. Her breathing grew shallow as she gripped the nearest surface, trying to steady herself.

Vi’s face contorted with confusion. “Caitlyn did what?”

“She shot her, Vi. I… I couldn’t stop it in time,” Jinx’s voice cracked, and the vulnerability in her tone took Vi by surprise. She wasn’t used to seeing Jinx like this—so raw, so exposed.

Isha, simply stared, her eyes flicking between Vi and Jinx, her face scrunched in confusion. She had heard bits of the conversation, but there was so much she didn’t understand. Why was Caitlyn shooting at someone she cared about? And why was Jinx so shaken?

Vi let out a long breath, trying to process what Jinx had just said. “That doesn’t make sense,” she muttered. “Why would Caitlyn shoot someone she… she cares about?”

The words that followed slipped out of Vi’s mouth before she could stop them. “She’s in love with them, isn’t she?” The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy and unexpected.

Jinx’s breath hitched, and Isha’s eyes widened, her hands curling in confusion.

“You’re telling me Caitlyn is in love with her?” Jinx’s voice trembled, though there was a fire burning in her chest now. It was as if everything was unraveling before her eyes, but she couldn’t piece it together.

Vi froze, her mind suddenly catching up to her words. She looked up at Jinx, realizing the weight of what she had just said. “Wait, I—what I meant was, you know, she’s always… you know, been protective of her. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The way she—” Vi stammered, suddenly realizing she had just opened a door that was better left closed.

Jinx stood there, her body rigid, her gaze fixed on Vi, her thoughts racing. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to release the anger she had buried deep inside, but instead, her fists clenched at her sides. Caitlyn’s in love with you? Her mind couldn’t wrap around it. It didn’t make sense. Not with everything that had happened.

Why didn’t you tell me, then? Jinx thought, the question gnawing at her. She felt a wave of confusion and betrayal surge inside her—betrayal from herself and from Caitlyn.

Isha, still standing silently, seemed to pick up on Jinx’s turmoil, her hands reaching up to gently tug at her sleeve. It was as though Isha was trying to anchor Jinx, to bring her back down from the storm swirling in her mind.

Jinx couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Her chest tightened as she began to speak again, her voice raw with emotion. “She—Caitlyn—could’ve killed her, Vi. And for what? Because she’s in love with her? Or is it because she was willing to do whatever it took to keep me away from her? How could she do that to someone she loves?” The words seemed to burn in Jinx’s throat, every sentence an accusation, every breath filled with fury.

Jinx’s mind was a hurricane now, swirling with conflicting emotions. Love, betrayal, fear—all of it was tangled together, and she couldn’t untangle it. Her heart pounded in her chest as the pieces began to fall into place, each one slipping deeper into a pit of confusion. How could you do this to someone you love, Caitlyn?

Vi, seeing the storm in Jinx’s eyes, tried to calm her down. “Look, we’re going to figure this out. Caitlyn’s going to come by later tonight. She wanted to talk—”

Jinx’s eyes narrowed, and before Vi could finish, she shook her head, cutting her off. “I don’t care about what she wants to say, Vi,” she snapped. “I need to find her, and I need to find her now.”

Her words were heavy with urgency, with a primal rage that burned through her. She needed answers. She needed to confront Caitlyn, to demand an explanation. But she wasn’t sure what kind of explanation she wanted—or how she’d react to it.

Vi stood there, stunned by Jinx’s outburst. She hadn’t seen this side of her before, not in such an intense way. It was more than anger—it was the raw vulnerability of someone who had been hurt, who had been betrayed by the person they trusted.

Jinx’s chest heaved as she tried to control her breathing, the emotional storm still churning within her. She didn’t want to feel this way—didn’t want to be vulnerable. But everything had changed. And now, standing here, with the truth slamming into her all at once, she couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“I need to find her,” Jinx repeated, her voice softer now, but the edge was still there. She was scared—scared of what she might do, scared of the confrontation, scared of what it all meant. But more than that, she was afraid of the one thing she could never have: the truth about you, Caitlyn, and herself.

“I’ll go with you,” Vi said, placing a hand on Jinx’s shoulder, her tone serious but understanding.

Jinx nodded, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, though she wouldn’t let herself fully break. Not now. Not until she had answers.

Isha’s small, silent presence remained at Jinx’s side as they prepared to leave. And though she couldn’t speak, Jinx could feel the weight of her support, her silent reassurance. But it didn’t stop the storm inside Jinx from raging.

𓇢𓆸

The air was thick and oppressive in the interrogation room, a suffocating silence that hung heavy in the grim, windowless space. The harsh lights overhead buzzed like they were hungry for something—or someone. You had no idea how long it had been since they’d brought you here, or how long you’d been enduring the blows. The only thing you were sure of was the pain, throbbing in every part of your body, and the blood that coated your skin, sticky and warm.

The last time you’d lifted your head, you’d found yourself met with Rictus’s massive fist, the world spinning as your skull cracked against the cold concrete. Your body barely reacted anymore to the pain—it had become numb to it.

The questions were simple at first, each one cutting through the haze of exhaustion and confusion. “How long have you worked on the weapon to blow up Piltover’s tower?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you gasped, breath shallow, heart pounding. You weren’t lying. You had no idea what they were accusing you of.

Another punch. Another wave of pain.

“How long have you worked with Jinx?” Rictus’s voice was like gravel, sharp and rough as he leaned closer, his breath foul as it hit your bruised skin.

“I’ve never worked with Jinx on anything like that!” you shouted, your voice barely audible, but it didn’t matter. The truth didn’t matter. Each denial only seemed to fuel his rage. Each “I don’t know” earned you another strike, another bruise, until you were sure your face was unrecognizable. Your lips were swollen, your eyes almost swollen shut, and blood ran down your neck, pooling on the floor beneath you. But you kept fighting it, kept holding onto the truth.

More hours passed—or was it days? Time didn’t seem real anymore. It was just you, the unrelenting blows, and the questions that wouldn’t stop. But then, a door creaked open, and you heard footsteps approaching. Your head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, but somehow, you managed to lift it, squinting your eyes through the pain.

Caitlyn stepped into the room, her expression as cold as the stone walls. The silence between you was thick, suffocating. You saw the anger in her eyes before she even said anything—cold, betrayed. And there was something else… something that felt like it could break both of you.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” Caitlyn asked, her voice eerily calm, though you could feel the undercurrent of something darker beneath it. “Do you understand the betrayal you’ve caused? After everything… everything I did for you.”

Her words sliced through you, deep, cutting. Betrayal. The word felt like a jagged rock lodged in your chest.

“I didn’t… I didn’t do anything!” you croaked, your voice hoarse and weak. “You have to believe me, Caitlyn. I don’t know what’s going on, I—”

She cut you off with a sneer, taking a step closer, her eyes narrowed in pure contempt. “You played me, didn’t you? All this time… You were playing me. I trusted you. I cared for you. I loved you, and this is how you repay me?”

The word love hung in the air between you like an accusation. Caitlyn’s face twisted in pain, her emotions raw, but she still wouldn’t let go of her anger, not yet.

Your bloodied face turned toward her as much as you could, and with the little strength you had left, you looked up at her through swollen eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t do this… Please, Caitlyn, you have to believe me.”

The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. It felt like the weight of the world was bearing down on both of you, suffocating the air in the room.

And then, the violence returned. Caitlyn’s anger flared, and with a fury that made your insides twist, she lashed out. Punch after punch, each one landing with more force, her hands shaking with the force of her betrayal. The blows were relentless, each one pushing you further into the abyss. You were wheezing now, gasping for air, your vision blurring from the pain.

But then, it stopped.

You could feel her presence lingering, but the blows had ceased. Your head rolled back, your consciousness fading in and out as you struggled to stay awake.

Caitlyn was looking at you now—her blue eyes softening as they met yours, catching something she hadn’t seen before. Her gaze lingered on you, and in that brief moment, something in her shifted. She saw you. And it broke her.

Her hands trembled, and the air around you grew thick with her conflict. She stumbled backward, unable to hold it together. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. She turned on her heel, walking out of the room without another word, leaving you there, battered, confused, and alone.

The door slammed behind her, and you let out a shaky breath, trying to hold onto some shred of awareness.

But that was when you heard the voices. From outside the room, muffled voices.

“She’ll make a fine leader,” Ambessa’s voice was low, calculating. “This will only make her stronger.”

Rictus’s voice answered, gravelly as ever. “She’ll do whatever it takes. We’ve given her the papers she needs, the lies we’ve fed her… Caitlyn is already on her way to being the perfect weapon for Piltover.”

“She won’t see it at first,” Ambessa replied with a smirk that was audible in her voice, “But soon enough, she’ll understand. You just wait.”

You could feel your body going numb, slipping in and out of consciousness, but what echoed in your mind wasn’t just pain anymore—it was a sinking feeling of betrayal.

This wasn’t over. It couldn’t be. You refused to believe this was your end. But Caitlyn… Caitlyn had seen you, seen your truth, and it hadn’t been enough.

𓇢𓆸

The cool metal of the interrogation room felt like a distant memory as you were dragged through the back of the building, your limbs weak and your body a mess of pain. You had no idea how much longer you could hang onto consciousness. Every breath felt like it was being ripped from you, and your vision was fading in and out. The cold air hit your face as you were roughly thrown into the alleyway behind the building.

An enforcer stood nearby, holding a rifle, his eyes cold as he stared down at you.

“Ambessa said to dispose of her,” the enforcer muttered, a cruel smile on his face as he looked at you, barely more than a broken body lying on the concrete. “You’re nothing but a liability now.”

The cold, emotionless words sent a chill down your spine, but you had no strength left to fight. It was over.

But just as they were about to end it all, a shadow moved swiftly across the alley, and then you heard a voice, dripping with sarcasm.

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to be impressed?”

Before you could react, Sevika swooped in, her powerful form effortlessly dispatching the enforcer in a blur of movement. The harsh laughter that followed made your broken body feel like it was being carried by pure instinct. She was pulling you up, holding you steady in her strong arms.

“Good to see you’re still breathing. Can’t say the same for the guy who was just about to get you killed, though,” Sevika muttered, her voice tinged with something resembling care, though it was buried beneath layers of sarcasm.

She carried you swiftly through the shadows, and with a sharp, decisive motion, she slipped into the hidden pathways that led to Sevikas hideout. Her heavy boots echoed off the walls as she moved, but you barely had the strength to stay conscious. Your head lolled, your body numb.

“Jinx’s gonna love this,” Sevika grumbled under her breath, as if speaking to herself. She didn’t stop moving, and before you knew it, you were placed gently—if you could call it that—onto the worn couch in the corner of the rundown place.

You managed to force your eyes open just enough to catch a glimpse of her. Your voice, hoarse and barely a whisper, escaped your cracked lips. “Are… are Jinx… and Isha… okay?”

Sevika paused, her expression unreadable as she looked at you. “They’re fine. You’re the one who’s a mess.” But there was a flicker of something in her eyes, something soft. “You should rest. You’ve had a hell of a day.”

And with that, your body finally gave in, and darkness claimed you.

𓇢𓆸

The tension in the room was electric, Caitlyn’s voice trembling as she poured out her anger. “She’s the reason my mother is dead, Vi. She helped make the weapon that destroyed the tower. She betrayed us, betrayed me!” Her pacing stopped abruptly, and she spun to face Vi, her blue eyes blazing with pain. “You knew her, didn’t you? You must have seen it—how could you not?”

Vi’s brow furrowed, her voice calm but tinged with confusion. “Cait, you’re not making sense. Y/n? She’s not the person you’re making her out to be.”

Caitlyn’s hands clenched into fists, her anger bubbling to the surface. “She fooled me, Vi! I cared about her, trusted her, and she betrayed me. I thought she was different.” Her voice broke as she added in a bitter whisper, “I loved her.”

The weight of those words seemed to hang in the air, startling even Vi. From her vantage point in the shadows, Jinx’s fists tightened, her nails digging into her palms as her anger simmered. Her heart ached at Caitlyn’s confession, but it was drowned out by her fury at the accusations.

“She made me believe in her, Vi,” Caitlyn continued, her tone sharper now. “And she helped make the weapon that took everything from me. She deserves to pay for what she’s done. Death is the only way—”

Jinx lunged from the shadows, her voice a feral roar as she tackled Caitlyn to the ground. “You don’t know a damn thing about her!” she yelled, her fists colliding with Caitlyn’s arm as the enforcer tried to shield herself. “You don’t get to say you loved her! Not after what you’ve done!”

“Jinx, stop!” Vi shouted, grabbing Jinx by the waist and attempting to pull her back.

Caitlyn, struggling beneath Jinx, spat back, “And you’re one to talk? You’re the one who turned her into this! You’re the reason she’s like this—broken, twisted, yours!”

The words struck a nerve. Jinx stilled for a brief moment before snarling, “You don’t get it! She was never part of your tower bombing! I didn’t even know her back then, and she sure as hell didn’t know me.”

Caitlyn froze at that, her breathing heavy. “What?”

Vi stepped in quickly, placing herself between them. “Jinx is telling the truth, Cait. Y/n wasn’t a part of that. She’s been with us for months now, but she wasn’t anywhere near you or the tower back then.”

Caitlyn’s brow furrowed as her mind raced to make sense of what she was hearing. “But Ambessa… She told me Y/n was involved. She gave me the reports. She told me—”

Vi’s voice was firm as she cut her off. “And you trusted her?” She took a step closer, her eyes narrowing. “Think about it, Cait. Ambessa’s not exactly known for being trustworthy, especially when it comes to Zaun. You’ve been fed false information. She wasn’t involved in any of it.”

The room went silent as Caitlyn stood there, stunned, her world unraveling. “False information?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Jinx wiped at the blood on her lip and glared at Caitlyn. “Yeah. All lies. You shot her, tortured her, all because you believed what they told you. And you almost killed her for something she didn’t do.”

Caitlyn’s knees felt weak as the weight of her actions crashed over her. “No… that can’t be… I didn’t—”

“You did,” Vi said gently, but firmly. “You’ve been played, Cait. And now you have to make it right.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched, tears welling in her eyes as she grappled with the truth. “What have I done?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Jinx stepped back, her rage simmering into bitter silence. She turned to leave, her mind racing with thoughts of you. Meanwhile, Vi stayed by Caitlyn’s side, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s not too late,” Vi said softly. “But you need to face what you’ve done—and figure out how to fix it.”

Caitlyn nodded faintly, but her heart felt hollow. The realization of what she had done to someone she claimed to care for would haunt her for a long time.

The knock at the door came sharp and urgent, cutting through the heavy silence in Vi’s apartment. Caitlyn, still reeling from the earlier confrontation, stepped outside to meet the enforcer. The man saluted her briefly before leaning in to speak in a low voice.

“Commander, we’ve got a situation,” he said, his tone grim. “A group of our enforcers was found unconscious near the termination bins in the industrial district. We believe it’s connected to Y/n.”

Caitlyn’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching. “And? Did they—” She hesitated, unwilling to finish the question. “Did they go through with it?”

The enforcer shifted uncomfortably. “We… don’t know. When we arrived, there was no sign of her. The enforcers on-site were too disoriented to confirm anything. As far as we can tell, She wasn’t there anymore, dead or alive.”

Caitlyn’s heart sank as a cold wave of guilt and dread washed over her. The thought of you being terminated—it was unbearable. Yet a flicker of hope sparked in her chest. Could she have escaped?

“She’s not… anywhere?” Caitlyn asked, her voice wavering slightly despite her effort to sound composed.

The enforcer shook his head. “No, Commander. We’ve launched a perimeter search, but there’s no trace of her.”

Caitlyn clenched her fists at her sides, a whirlwind of emotions coursing through her—guilt, relief, and uncertainty. She dismissed the enforcer with a curt nod and turned back toward Vi’s home, her mind racing. She knew in her gut you were alive. You had to be. But how? And where?

From the corner of the room, Jinx had been listening, her body stiff and tense as the conversation played out. When she heard the words no trace, it hit her like a freight train. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor, clutching her arms around herself.

“No, no, no,” Jinx murmured under her breath, her voice trembling as her mind spiraled. The fear clawed at her chest, suffocating her. “They… they took her. She’s gone. I should’ve—”

Vi was at her side in an instant, crouching down and gripping her shoulders. “Jinx. Look at me.”

Jinx didn’t respond, rocking slightly as she hugged herself tighter. Tears pricked her eyes, and her breathing grew uneven.

“She’s alive,” Vi said firmly, shaking her slightly to break through the haze. “You hear me? Y/n’s alive. I know she is. You know how tough she is.”

“She’s not tough enough to survive this,” Jinx whispered harshly, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face. “I wasn’t there. I should’ve been there for her.”

Vi pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly as Jinx broke down in her arms. “This isn’t on you,” Vi said quietly. “We’ll find her. But right now, you’ve gotta hold it together. For her. For Isha.”

At the mention of Isha, Jinx’s grip on Vi tightened, and she slowly nodded against her sister’s shoulder. But the tears didn’t stop, her mind replaying every worst-case scenario. Deep down, she knew Vi was right. If there was even a chance you were still out there, Jinx wasn’t going to stop until she found you.

And when she did, she’d never let anyone take you from her again.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

The weeks passed slowly in exile. Sevika had taken you to an abandoned outpost far from the reaches of Piltover and the Undercity, a place quiet enough to let you heal but restless enough to remind you of what you’d left behind. She tended to your wounds with surprising care, though her sarcastic jabs never waned.

“You’re lucky I’ve got a soft spot for strays,” she’d muttered one night as she rewrapped the bandages on your ribs. “But don’t get used to this. I’m no nurse.”

Still, there was something unspoken in her actions—a tenderness she wasn’t willing to put into words.

Two weeks later, with your body still aching but functional, Sevika finally deemed you ready to move.

“Piltover’s ruled you dead,” she said as the two of you boarded a rickety transport bound for the Undercity. “Most of Zaun thinks the same. Guess that makes you a ghost now, huh?”

Her tone was teasing, but her eyes carried weight. She wasn’t the only one who believed you were gone—Jinx did too.

“Ghost or not,” you muttered, adjusting the hood over your head, “I can’t hide forever.”

Sevika chuckled dryly, lighting a cigar as she leaned back. “Not with that stubborn streak of yours. But hey, your ‘death’ did something. Piltover and Zaun are at each other’s throats again, and Jinx? She’s not the same.”

You looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”

“She’s got the whole damn Undercity behind her now,” Sevika said, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Murals of you are everywhere—walls, streets, even the rooftops. You’re some kind of martyr to them. And Jinx? She’s their voice. Every raid, every speech, it’s in your name.”

The idea made your chest tighten. “That’s not what I wanted.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sevika said bluntly. “That’s what you got. Your death hit her hard. Hell, it hit me hard.”

You turned to her, surprised by the rare vulnerability in her voice. She didn’t meet your gaze, focusing instead on the glowing tip of her cigar.

“You remind me of someone I used to know,” she admitted quietly. “Someone I—” She stopped herself, shaking her head as if dismissing the thought. “Point is, don’t get yourself killed for real. I’d hate to have to paint your mural next.”

You offered a faint smile, though the weight of her words lingered.

When the two of you arrived at Jinx’s lair, the air was thick with tension. The familiar hum of her gadgets and the faint scent of gunpowder filled your lungs. Sevika turned to you before you parted ways.

“Look, I’m not one for speeches,” she said, crossing her arms. “But if you’ve got something to say to her, don’t wait. People like us don’t get second chances often.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you adjusted the straps on your gear.

“Thanks, Sevika,” you said, pausing before you entered. “For everything.”

She smirked, her usual bravado returning. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Leaving Sevika behind, you climbed the rusted beams of the lair to reach the old storage room. The shadows were familiar, comforting even, as you positioned yourself to watch the main floor below.

Jinx was pacing, her chaotic energy unmistakable even now. Isha sat nearby, quietly doodling on the floor, her small form a contrast to the tension in the air.

You inhaled deeply, steeling yourself for what came next. This wasn’t going to be easy. But you’d faced death, betrayal, and exile. Surely, you could face her too.

As you watched her from above, the world seemed to slow, the weight of your return pressing heavily on your chest. It was time to step out of the shadows.

Sevika stood at the edge of Jinx’s lair, leaning against the wall as she lit a cigar. She was about to speak, but Jinx’s glare cut through her like a knife.

“Where the hell were you?” Jinx growled, pacing like a caged animal. Her wild blue hair swayed with each furious step.

“Jinx, I—” Sevika started, but Jinx cut her off with a shout.

“No! Don’t you dare give me excuses!” Jinx’s voice cracked, the usual manic energy replaced by raw pain. “You left me. You left us.” She gestured toward Isha, who was watching from her spot near the corner, her quiet presence a stark contrast to the chaos.

“I had to keep my head low,” Sevika said firmly, though there was a hint of guilt in her tone. “You don’t think I wanted to be here? I couldn’t exactly waltz back into Piltover or Zaun with every damn enforcer looking for me.”

“That’s not good enough!” Jinx’s voice trembled as tears welled up in her eyes. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like without her? Without—” Her voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands, trembling.

Sevika’s expression softened. “Jinx…” she said gently, taking a step forward.

Jinx dropped her hands, her face flushed and tear-streaked. “I—I’ve been losing my mind,” she whispered, her voice almost a whimper. “Every time I close my eyes, I see her. I hear her. And then I remember she’s gone. That it’s my fault. I should’ve stopped her, or—”

Her words dissolved into sobs, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself fall apart.

Sevika hesitated, unsure if Jinx would let her get close. “You loved her,” Sevika said softly, more a statement than a question.

Jinx nodded, choking on a bitter laugh. “More than I even knew. And now she’s gone, and I—” She crumpled to her knees, clutching at her chest as if it would ease the ache. “I can’t breathe without her.”

Sevika knelt beside her, reaching out to place a hand on Jinx’s shoulder. “You’re not alone,” she said. “I know it feels like you are, but—”

Isha, who had been quietly observing, stood and stepped forward, her wide eyes catching something in the shadows. She froze, her gaze fixed on the spot where your grey eyes glimmered faintly before disappearing into the darkness.

Her hand twitched toward you, her quiet confusion etched across her face. But before she could take a step, you were gone.

Outside, shouting broke through the stillness. You climbed to the rooftop, your boots quiet against the metal as you surveyed the scene below. A group of enforcers had invaded a small square, their harsh voices clashing with the somber gathering of Zaunites.

The mural at the center of the square caught your attention immediately. It was breathtaking, painted with bold strokes of color and light. You were depicted standing tall and defiant, your gray eyes vivid and piercing. Beside you was Jinx, her wild energy perfectly captured in vibrant blues and pinks. The two of you stood back to back, symbols of hope and rebellion intertwined. Candles and flowers surrounded the mural, their soft light flickering like stars.

Your chest tightened at the sight, but the peaceful moment shattered as enforcers began shoving the crowd back. Below, Jinx and Sevika were already there, trying to stop the chaos.

Jinx was in her element, her taunts sharp and biting as she darted around the enforcers. But her recklessness caught up with her when one of them struck her in the head with the butt of a rifle. She stumbled, dazed, and they quickly handcuffed her.

“Let her go!” Sevika roared, lunging forward, but another enforcer held her back.

You paced back and forth on the rooftop, your heart pounding. Every instinct told you to stay hidden, to keep your cover. But when the enforcer grabbed Jinx by the arm and hissed your name with disdain, something inside you snapped.

Jinx, handcuffed and bloodied, tried to lunge at him despite her restraints. “Don’t you dare say her name!” she screamed, only for the enforcer to hit her again, sending her to her knees.

Your hands clenched into fists. For a moment, you turned away, ready to retreat into the shadows. But then Jinx’s name echoed in your mind, her laughter, her tears, her voice begging you to stay.

Before you could think twice, you sprinted toward the edge of the roof and leaped, landing in a crouch between Jinx and the enforcer.

The sudden appearance made everyone freeze. Your hooded cloak concealed most of your face, but when you straightened and your gray eyes met the enforcer’s, his expression twisted with fear.

“You—” he started, but he didn’t get a chance to finish.

You moved swiftly, disarming him with a calculated strike before turning to the others. One by one, you incapacitated them, your movements precise and unrelenting. The enforcers never stood a chance.

When the last one hit the ground, you straightened and turned toward the mural. The crowd behind you murmured in awe, their whispers growing louder.

“Could it be…?”

“Is it really her?”

You stopped in front of the mural, staring at the image of yourself and Jinx. Slowly, you reached up and pulled back your hood.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as you turned, your face fully revealed.

“It’s her…” someone whispered.

Jinx, still kneeling on the ground, stared up at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. Tears spilled down her cheeks as her lips parted, but no words came out.

You stepped toward her, the world around you fading into silence. It was just you and her now.

The square was eerily quiet after the chaos. You turned to Jinx, her wild blue hair disheveled, her face streaked with dirt and blood. Kneeling in front of her, you gently reached for the cuffs around her wrists. Your hands worked quickly, the click of the lock releasing breaking the silence between you.

As soon as the cuffs fell to the ground, Jinx lunged forward, wrapping her arms around you so tightly it was as if she feared you’d disappear if she let go. Her body trembled against yours, her breaths shaky and uneven.

You froze for a moment, surprised by the force of her embrace. Then your arms came around her, pulling her close as if trying to make up for all the time lost. She buried her face in your shoulder, her tears soaking into the fabric of your cloak.

“I thought I lost you,” she choked out, her voice muffled against you. “I thought—” Her words faltered, replaced by quiet sobs.

You closed your eyes, resting your chin against her head. The weight of her grief, her relief, was almost overwhelming. “I missed you, Jinx,” you whispered softly, your voice warm and steady. “Every second I was away from you, all I could think about was getting back to you.”

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. Her violet eyes were wide and glassy, searching your face for any sign this wasn’t real. Her hands came up to touch your cheeks, as if she needed to feel you to believe it. “You’re real, right?” she whispered. “You have to be real.”

A smile tugged at your lips, faint but genuine. “I’m real,” you said. Then, with a playful glint in your eye, you added teasingly, “But if you need proof, I could always show you.”

Before she could respond, you leaned in and captured her lips with your own. The kiss was sudden, fierce, and full of all the longing and emotion you’d both been holding back. Jinx froze for a split second, her breath hitching, before she melted into you, kissing you back just as passionately.

The world around you seemed to dissolve. There was no chaos, no danger—only her. Your hands slid up to cup her face, your thumbs brushing away the tears on her cheeks as her fingers clung to your cloak like a lifeline.

But then, the square erupted into cheers and applause. The sound hit you like a wave, pulling you both out of your moment. You pulled back just enough to rest your forehead against hers, both of you catching your breath as laughter bubbled up from the crowd.

Jinx blinked at the noise, her cheeks flushed as she glanced around. “Well,” she muttered, her lips quirking into a half-smile, “I guess we put on a show.”

You laughed softly, about to respond when you caught sight of a small figure sprinting toward you.

“Isha!” you called, opening your arms as she reached you.

She crashed into you with such force that it nearly knocked you over. Her arms wrapped tightly around your waist as her small frame shook with sobs.

“I’m here, Isha,” you said softly, scooping her up into your arms. You held her close, your hand cradling the back of her head as she buried her face in your shoulder. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Her tears soaked into your cloak, and you felt her little hands clutch at you as though she feared you’d slip away again.

Jinx stood beside you, her hand reaching out to touch Isha’s back in silent reassurance. Her gaze returned to you, her eyes soft and full of a fragile kind of hope.

For the first time in weeks, you all felt whole again.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Caitlyn’s office was a shadow of its former self. Once immaculately organized, it was now a chaotic mess. Papers were strewn across the floor, half-empty mugs of stale tea cluttered every available surface, and the scent of ink and exhaustion clung to the air. The curtains were drawn, casting the room in a perpetual gloom lit only by the dim glow of her desk lamp.

In the corner, Caitlyn sat hunched over a pile of paperwork, her hair disheveled and her uniform crumpled. Her once-crisp blue jacket hung loosely from her shoulders, the brass buttons dulled. Her eyes, ringed with shadows, scanned the documents in front of her with a mechanical focus, a mask for the turmoil beneath.

The sound of hurried boots on the wooden floor snapped her attention toward the door. An enforcer stumbled in, his mask cracked and barely clinging to his face. His breathing was ragged, his shoulders heaving as if he had sprinted the entire way.

“Commander Kiramman,” he gasped, gripping the edge of the doorframe to steady himself.

Caitlyn straightened, setting down her pen with a clatter. Her brows furrowed at the state of him. “What is it?” she asked, her voice sharp, clipped—more out of reflex than true energy.

The enforcer stood tall despite his battered appearance, his words tumbling out in a rush. “At the square near the Undercity border. The mural… it was attacked by enforcers, but…” He hesitated, his breath catching.

“But what?” Caitlyn pressed, her eyes narrowing.

“Y/n,” he said, the name hanging in the air like a thunderclap. “She’s alive, Commander. She—she fought the enforcers and… she revealed herself.”

For a moment, Caitlyn stared at him, her expression unreadable. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her desk until her knuckles turned white. “What did you say?” Her voice was low, trembling with barely contained emotion.

“Y/n,” the enforcer repeated, his voice steadying. “She’s alive. She fought them off single-handedly and disappeared before we could track her.”

Caitlyn’s heart pounded in her chest, a storm of emotions threatening to overtake her. Relief, disbelief, anger, and something deeper—something she wasn’t ready to name—all churned within her.

She shot up from her chair, sending it rolling backward. “Alive,” she muttered under her breath, pacing to the window as if she could catch a glimpse of you out there in the night. She pressed a trembling hand to her temple, her mind racing.

The thought of you—breathing, fighting, alive—stirred something deep within her. But with it came a rush of cold fury. You had humiliated her, made her question everything she thought she knew. The betrayal still burned like an open wound.

She turned sharply back to the enforcer. “Get me every available squad. I want checkpoints at every exit of the Undercity and Piltover. Leave no stone unturned.”

The enforcer nodded but hesitated. “Commander, with respect… do we capture or eliminate?”

Caitlyn froze, her jaw tightening. The words hung in the air, the weight of the decision pressing on her like a vice.

“Capture,” she said finally, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “I want her alive.”

The enforcer saluted and turned on his heel to carry out her orders, leaving Caitlyn alone once more.

She stared at the scattered papers on her desk, but her focus was gone. Her chest heaved with each breath as she leaned heavily against the edge of the desk. “Alive,” she whispered to herself, the word laced with longing and wrath.

Her hand slowly reached for the rifle mounted on the wall, her grip tightening around it as she pulled it down. If you were truly alive, she would find you. And when she did… she wasn’t sure whether she would embrace you or destroy you.

__________________________

Hey lol, thank you guys for reading! it means alot and if you read this little A/n then youll get a better understanding of this fic. So it is long, there are actually two points in this fic. TWO big like main ( i cant find the words- like the main plot) things. The moral of the book is you choosing between Zuan and piltover (the women running it...wink wink) so stay for the ride cause boy does it get stupid crazy. I'm talking about clutching the phone and having to side eye the screen like 'oh?...ohhhhhhhh' so! hehe enjoy!

[dayas]

8 + elphaba & fiyero?

8 ⧽. giving them unabashed heart eyes when they do something cute and getting caught

AHHH MY FIRST FIYERABA PROMPT I AM SO EXCITED!!! I’ve been wanting to write for them since I got out of Wicked last week. Hopefully this is okay!

—

Fiyero Tigelaar isn’t exactly known for thinking. In fact, all he’s ever projected to his fellow students is that he doesn’t think, that he simply dances through life and refuses to invite further stresses and woes in with further consideration. And yet. He hasn’t been able to keep her out of his mind. Elphaba Thropp, the spirited, stunning witch he’d nearly trampled on accident in the forest. She’s the very reason he finds himself in the library of all places, a location he actively avoids. Books are mirrors just as much as they are windows into different worlds, and the last thing he wants to do is risk seeing himself reflected within the pages of some myth or legend.

She’s sitting at her favorite table, her head bent, her braids pulled back away from her face. Her finger traces a singular line a few times over before it moves on, winding itself around the ends of a few of her braids. She’s reading (no surprise there), but what catches his eye isn’t what she’s doing. It’s that she’s smiling. Fiyero doesn’t think he has ever seen Elphaba smile, not like the one she wears now. Something soft and secret, wholly hers, belonging to no one else. Unbeknownst to him, his own face mirrors her expression, a soft smile settled upon his lips. He watches her because he can’t help himself, because he’s still intrigued by her even when she’s silent.

“I can see you, you know.”

Elphaba’s eyes flicker up, catching his gaze and holding it hostage. Fiyero doesn’t flinch, only shrugs.

“I wasn’t certain you could. You’re missing your glasses today. I’m glad to know you’re so attuned to my presence, though.” Her eyes roll quickly, and that same fondness appears in his.

“Maybe in your dreams, Tigelaar.”

“So you dream about me, Thropp?”

She shakes her head, and he flashes a charming grin at her.

“What exactly happens in these dreams?”

“What do you want? You were staring rather intensely, so you must want something.”

Fiyero moves closer to her, settling a few steps away from where she is seated.

“Can’t a man admire beauty from afar?”

Elphaba frowns immediately.

“You don’t have to lie.”

He shocks himself by lowering his voice, the softness of his tone matched evenly by its authenticity.

“I’m not lying.”

Something flashes behind Elphaba’s eyes. He can’t tell what it is — she tears her gaze away from his before he is able to determine it.

When she speaks, it is barely audible.

“Why were you looking at me like that?”

Her eyes, so wide, a beautifully deep green, return to seek his out. The prince’s words are barely above a whisper, the blue of his own eyes holding hers steadily.

“You know why.”

Elphaba takes a sharp breath, biting down on her lip. She takes her book and stands abruptly, nearly running into him in her rush to leave.

“Elphaba — ” Fiyero says, confused, laying a gentle hand on her wrist to stop her. He’s thankful she does, and he uses his other hand to brush his fingers beneath her chin, turning her head so he can see her face. He’s shocked to find tears welling up in her eyes.

“You are a lot of things, Fiyero,” she whispers, her voice shaking, “but I never thought you were cruel. Not like this.”

“You don’t have to believe me.”

His own whisper is an impassioned blurt.

“You don’t have to believe me, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. That what I feel for you isn’t real.”

“It can’t be real.”

“It is.”

They are locked in a stalemate he never expected, but one he refuses to leave first. He feels it, when she begins to break down. He takes a step closer, cupping her cheek in his hand, his other holding hers.

“Tell me you don’t feel it too.”

He will leave her alone, he will, if she doesn’t. She’s close enough to him that their chests brush together with every breath they take.

“I can’t.”

The sound of heels clicking cuts through their moment.

“Meet me tonight,” Fiyero murmurs into her ear, “the woods. Eight o’clock.” Elphaba nods, and he takes off then, nearly crashing into Galinda as she puts herself in his path.

“There you are!” she chirps, as bright and bubbly as ever, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, dearest.”

Fiyero lets her steer him away from the outside of the library and chatter on. He doesn’t hear a word she says; he’s too busy thinking of what will come when the sun sets and he can finally see the woman’s who’s forced him into thinking again.

[adioringhamzah]

love off duty

when a famous model and hamzah fall in love, but they have to keep it hidden from their fans (sfw)

a.n : y/n is basically what i crave to be so a skinny model but it doesn't really impact the story (i imagine her with candice swanepoel's body basically)

you stand there absolutely still in your black skinny jeans and tight tank top while some random people are staring at you from all sides. you feel vulnerable, feeling all eyes on your body while they say comments here and there.

thankfully, it's finally done, and you get the good news you hoped for : you're the new gucci model, you contain yourself from jumping of excitement.

you thank them graciously, trying to keep your composure and head out, a little sad seeing all the other models that you know won't be scouted.

you open the building's door, feeling the fresh air on your bare face, and there you see him.

your boyfriend hamzah.

you laugh a little, seeing him dressed in his fake gucci ensemble and jump in his arms. you love how supportive he is, the chances you got casted were as slim as your waist, but he still took the time to wait for you.

it feels nice to be able to kiss him all you want in public, none of you really wanted to make your relationship known to the public : you're too busy with all your modeling gigs and hamzah is scared he'll get hate. not because of your looks, obviously : he thinks you're the prettiest girl ever. but because of his fanbase, that was a little too used to bachelor hamzah.

you stopped kissing him, and he drove you home. you love your shared house. when you first moved in, you were a little taken aback by all the ai photos of him but very happily surprised when you saw the custom collage hamzah had made of you. it was filled with pictures from you on the runway and from different magazines.

as soon as you enter, you rush to take your clothes off and change into the cutest burgundy flowy dress. putting on makeup, you see hamzah in the mirror, putting on a classy shirt and pants. you basically drool over how yummy he looks, but contain yourself.

he doesn't, though, and starts kissing you all over your neck, the kisses becoming more and more intense, soon resulting in a hickey. you get a little annoyed, but you kinda loved how he was marking you.

not bothering yourself any more you both left and drove all the way to a fancy restaurant where hamzah made a reservation.

as soon as you step out of the car to give it to the valet you spot a few cameras down the street, "shit" you thought to yourself, you tell hamzah to go in first and you'll join him in just a few minutes just so you don't make an entrance together.

you stand there alone, checking your insta notifications, 99+ new ones, you check to see your story about getting scouted for gucci got 100k likes. you smile to yourself, and just as you thought, you see 5 paparazzis approaching you, "y/n, y/n, are you happy to become a gucci model??" they basically scream, and you nod.

you hurriedly make your way to the entrance, waving to the cameras and spotting your boyfriend at a table. you make your way there and sit down while telling him about all the paparazzis.

he smiles.

you know he loves having a model girlfriend. he's obsessed with your long legs (especially when they're choking him) and your perky boobs. he adores looking up photos of you from the runway or from some red carpets you get invited to, he even has a pinterest board of you, which you find endearing.

sadly, you know he sometimes feels a little self-conscious next to you, but you're quick to reassure him that you find him beautiful. you really do. when you first saw him on youtube, you had the biggest crush on him, and you were ecstatic when he dmed you telling you how pretty you are.

"i love having a trophy girlfriend" he says in an amused tone. you chuckle, your cheeks turning pink from the compliment.

the restaurant was amazing, you don't really go to public places together but this was such a good experience and thankfully no one photographed you together.

you come home both absolutely exhausted and jump into bed, falling asleep in seconds.

you're awoken by the smell of pancakes and matcha. you join your boyfriend in the kitchen while he pours the juice into two glasses.

you check your phone as usual but get a little shocked by your number of notifs, a little higher than usual. and there you see it, a picture of you, your face zoomed in, the light shining on your fresh hickey.

all the comments are speculating about a potential boyfriend, and you get a little panicked.

hamzah asks you why you look this shocked and you show him the photo. he sighs, but you see his lips resisting the urge to smile, probably a little happy about pictures of you all over instagram with his hickey on you.

tell me what u thought and if u want a part 2!!

[rini-rushed]

english kinda sucks.

☆ rin x reader! (gender not mentioned)

★ crack? idk im smokin /j | reader might be illiterate (LIKE ME IN JP) | already in relastionhip B)

notes: (rin might be ooc D:) i go to a jp/en bilingual school as an english strong student so idk i thought i'd have fun + this is inspired by the infamous EN additional time :P

sypnosis -> learning english after the age of six kinda sucks, having to actually learn the grammar.. but you know what's almost as bad as english grammar?

発音 (PRONOUNCIATION.)

your eyebrows bunched together, your pouty lips now just frowning in distaste at the english letter written out for you by your boyfriend.

meanwhile he's sitting beside you with his legs crossed together, looking at your fidgeting pen and confused look on your face, rin had already gone through this before, since he was going to be at the top of the soccer world of course.

after another minute of you butchering the pronunciation of "th", rin takes the pencil from your fingers and points the lead at the words he had written, turning to look at you, you catch eye contact with him.

he looks at the three words, pointing at each one, in the order he wrote it, rin proceeds to carefully pronounce to you, and you drunk in his slightly accented voice. what a cutie.

"through"

"though"

"thought"

...

maybe his voice wasn't as cute when he pronounced these words and despite looking VERY similar, sounded very different and even meanr very different things...

and what does he mean one's a prepozishun, another is a naon, and that last one is a conjuhkushon...??? whatever those are supposed to be..

"ehhh... threuw?"

you felt like an infant, trying your hardest to try and annunciate these confusing and annoying words.

the little accent in your voice that bled through your voice as you put in so much effort into trying to say these words correctly, it was really amusing to rin.

to him, these words were easy to say, easy to spot, easy to use. but seeing you put in so much effort was adorable to say the least.

"through" he echoes your words with more certainty and accuracy.

you scrunched up your face at the correction, and just went to the next word.

"..dough.."

"though" rin reads, you shoot him a small side glance at how close you were.

you were bit more happy that you got this one a lot better than the last, barely off, you were motivated to try again.

...

"...though."

you turned your head towards rin with an expectant look, the look in your eyes screamed "tell me i'm right".

though his facial expression didn't beam with gladness at you finally getting it correct, it's still rin itoshi afterall, but you could see a small glimmer of pride that dotted itself into the teal sea of ethereality that swam in scleras of your boyfriend's features.

"good job. took you long enough." he complimented, but deep rooted in that bored sounding tone, you knew he was happy to see you overcome.

rin then narrow his eyes slightly, moving his pencil over, making your eyes follow with his movements.

ruining your nice moment, "now this one." he speaks in english, you frown.

rin only watches as you struggle to differentiate 'though' and 'through', it's entertaining to watch, but next to him you were merely being sulky.

all with a single thought going through your head, though you agreed with yourself completely, you like spending time with your boyfriend.

'man, english kinda sucks.'

~ rini writes ~

#whatthefuckdidijustwrite

#anotherbadendingsobsob

#thistookmeeversincenov17becauseikeptabandoningit

tags: @mininji @tofumiarchives @atlas-atlantic @wabatle @biggestcharleskinnie

@rinitoshiplzdateme @fishii-writes @reapkusho @tired-xyra-urstruly

IM SORRY FOR TAGGING YOU GUYS AGAIN AND AGIANAINS...

tried to keep it to rin fans but fumi/atlas

[marril96]

Safe Haven

Chapter 3: Cold as Revenge

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: After months of no contact, Agatha shows up at your door badly injured, and it’s up to you to help her.

Previous chapter.

"Can we go to bed now? I'm dead tired." Agatha asked. There was a pause, and then she added, "No pun intended."

Very funny. "Don't you wanna eat something?"

She shook her head. "I just want to get some sleep. It's a bit hard to rest when your hands are tied behind your back and someone's kicking you in the ribs the entire time."

A pang of rage burst within you. You weren't just going to watch her kill them. You would kill them yourself. "Sweetheart—"

"Save the pity party. Just get me to bed," Agatha said.

So you did. You walked her to the bedroom, and helped her remove her dirty clothes and change into a clean pair of pajamas. It took everything, all the strength you could muster, for you to not break into sobs as your eyes fell upon her naked body. There was barely an inch of her left untarnished. Bruises in various shapes lined her arms and legs.

Her abdomen and back bore the worst of it. Her skin, naturally creamy and fair, was painted purple.

This wasn't the purple that suited her.

This wasn't her purple.

"Want something for the pain?" you asked. You didn't have any hard stuff, but, given her condition, even an Ibuprofen could make a difference.

Agatha shook her head, nestling under the covers. "I'm fine. I just need to sleep it off."

Would she be able to sleep at all?

You doubted you would be able to sleep, and you weren't even the one who was injured.

"I'll run you a bath in the morning," you said.

She beamed at the prospect. "Will you join me?"

"Of course." That was the reason the two of you had chosen a large bath. "Now, rest up. I'll be with you shortly."

She looked at you with wide, sad puppy eyes. "You're leaving?"

"Just to take a shower," you assured her.

"Stay," she said in a small voice. Fragile. Broken.

It just about broke your heart. "I have to—"

"Please."

She knew you could never tell her no when she pleaded in that tone of voice.

Others could — and did, every time — but never you. They didn't know what it took for her to beg. They didn't know how vulnerable, how desperate she had to be in order to do it. Or if they did, they didn't care.

You did. You cared too much.

Agatha knew that, and, though manipulation came to her as easily as breathing, she never took advantage of it.

When she would look at you like that and say please in that small, sad voice, you knew it was genuine. You knew she needed you.

"Okay," you relented. "But only until you fall asleep."

Her lip quivered.

Those hunters were still out there, no doubt looking everywhere for her. Even if they couldn't enter this house, they were a danger; not just to her, but to you, as well. They could burn this house down. Blow it up. Shoot through the walls.

Neither one of you was safe.

Agatha's fear was justified. She was a target for as long as they were among the living.

"I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you again," you told her, squeezing her hand. "I promise."

You laid down beside her. Instantly, with a pained hiss, Agatha shifted towards you, resting her head on your chest.

"Are you sure about this? It's not the most comfortable position," you said.

"I'll live," she said. "Hold me."

So, you did.

You cradled her to you, careful not to hurt her. Your fingers caressed her hair, played with the locks, twisted and twined them. Her heart beat close to your chest, a steady, even rhythm in line with her breathing.

She was comfortable.

She felt safe.

You stayed that way for over two hours, long after Agatha had drifted off to sleep. You didn't have the heart to leave her yet, even temporarily.

Maybe you could stay in tonight. Maybe you could postpone your plan for the morning.

No.

It had to be done tonight.

The sooner it was dealt with, the better.

There was no way of knowing when the potion Agatha was injected with would wear off. It could be tomorrow. It could be in a week, a month, hell, maybe even a year. The people who'd captured her — who'd tortured her, broken her — wouldn't give up until they got their hands on her again.

If they were to corner you, you could fight them off. She couldn't. She had no way to defend herself.

Letting them live was too much of a risk.

As carefully as you could, you wiggled out from under Agatha and got up from the bed. I'm doing this for you, you thought as you fixed the covers and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

There was nothing you wouldn't do for her.

Even if she hated you for it.

Eventually, she would come to understand why you did it. Why you had to do it.

She'd forgiven you once. She would do so again.

***

It was well after sunset when you returned home. You hoped Agatha was still asleep, that you would have some time to lie down with her after you cleaned yourself up. You could use some cuddles after the night you'd had, and you were certain she could use a few, herself.

No such luck, though; your eyes fell upon her as you emerged from the basement, seated on the couch with a mug of coffee in hand, brows furrowed, lips tight, like a parent catching their teenage child sneaking back in after a night of hard partying.

You were ready to chastise her, to tell her she should be in bed and rest, when the scene before you set in and your mind caught up with what you were seeing. Her hair hung down her shoulders in thick, loose curls. Her fingers, wrapped around the mug, were black. She was clad in her witch outfit, the purples and blues clinging to her body, contrasting the creaminess of her skin.

Her face was flawless, no traces of the bruises that used to paint it mere hours ago. The cracks and tears on her lips were gone. She was sitting upright, her breathing normal, unbothered.

Her power was back.

She was back.

"You're awake," you said in awe, unsure of what to comment on first. So many emotions were coursing through you; excitement, relief, joy. She was okay. She could protect herself now.

She was back to her old self.

"I sure am. Where were you? I was cold," she said with a whiny pout. It looked oddly in conflict with the way she was dressed.

"You poor baby," you teased. You sized her up, took in every inch of her. God, she was delectable. "You don't look cold now."

Agatha smirked. "You dig it?"

She knew you did.

"This a show for me?" you asked.

"Don't flatter yourself, honey. Fashion shows are beneath me." She shrugged dramatically. "I'm just enjoying having my power back."

Right. Sure. "It looks good on you."

"Everything looks good on me."

True.

"I'm glad you're okay," you said.

She beckoned you with a finger, and, as if under a spell, you went to her. You removed the coffee from her hands, putting it down on the coffee table, and leaned down to kiss her.

Her lips were warm. Inviting. Ravenous. She drank you in, pulled you closer. Devoured you like she devoured the power, the lifeline of all those witches.

Unlike them, you welcomed it. A willing victim. You craved it. Ached for it. Begged for more.

And more she gave.

Lowering yourself to her lap, you let her deepen the kiss. God, you missed this. Missed her.

These past few months were hell, and not just because of the guilt that was eating you alive. Not being around Agatha was killing you. Not feeling her touch, not having her mouth on yours, not smelling her hair or feeling the static of her magic on your skin…

You might as well have died.

And now you came back to life.

"So good to have you back," you said as you parted for air.

"So good to be back," Agatha said confidently. "Speaking of, what were you doing in the basement for so long?"

So much for the surprise. And here you thought you were being careful. "Did I wake you when I came back in?"

"No. I was already looking for you when I heard all the… whatever the hell that was."

Yeah. That. You were hoping she hadn't heard that little blunder.

"It was supposed to be a surprise."

Agatha raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"For when you wake up. A little get-well present. You need your purple to really enjoy it. I thought it'd be nice if you had something to look forward to while you heal."

A wide smile bloomed on her mouth. "Is that why you're covered in blood?"

Your shirt was all but soaked in it, the rusty color having taken over. You'd planned on trashing it and taking a shower before seeing Agatha, but, as always, plans were one thing, and reality was another.

"It's not mine," you clarified.

"I can see that," she said, a tad amused. "Whose is it?"

Though, by the look on her face, you could tell she already had a pretty good idea.

Another surprise spoiled.

"Those hunters aren't gonna be a problem for you anymore," you said.

Their screams still echoed in your head. Pleas for mercy, for forgiveness. Where was their mercy when they were torturing Agatha because she wouldn't betray you? Where was their mercy when they were kicking her, punching her, breaking her? Where was their mercy when she was begging for it?

Payback was a bitch, and so were you.

"Is that so?" Agatha asked.

A part of you expected her to be mad at you for taking the opportunity of revenge away from her, but she was taking it in stride. If anything, she seemed proud. Satisfied.

She approved.

Your heart warmed with relief.

"No one hurts my girl and gets away with it," you said, looking her straight in the eyes to drive the point clear. If it came to it, you would tear the world apart for her. Would set it on fire and watch it burn.

Agatha preened. She loved your protective side. "You took quite a risk," she chided, though it was all for show. She knew you could handle yourself. Your power was nowhere near her level, but you were far from a defenseless kitten.

"I sneaked up on them." That was the only way you could think of for them to have successfully injected her with the magic-blocking potion. So, why not return the favor? "Isn't that what they did to you?"

"Indeed, it is," she confirmed. "They're cowards."

"Now they're dead cowards."

Agatha grinned, then glared as you took a sip of her coffee. You ignored it, instead taking a few more sips, eyes never leaving hers.

As if she would ever do anything to hurt you. Someone else may lose their head — or hand, or mouth — for an infraction like this, but not you. You had the privilege of testing her limits and living to tell the tale.

If anything, you were doing it for the glare itself. It was adorable. She was adorable. Like a hissing kitten attempting to look tough, imposing, not realizing the act only made it cuter.

"Wanna see what I got you?"

Agatha's eyes lit up. You didn't even have to ask.

Taking hold of her hand, you led her to the basement. Your heart thumped loudly as you descended into the dark, dimly lit room, anticipating building, welling up like a geyser about to burst.

It's been a while since you treated the woman you loved to something nice.

She deserved a pick-me-up.

A form laid on the cold ground before you. The woman's hair was light; it used to be perfectly straight, but now it resembled a bird's nest, messy and unkempt. Courtesy of you. Bitchfights were, well, a bitch. Her clothes were tattered. A piece of fabric was wrapped tightly around her mouth; a makeshift gag you'd had to make out of a random shirt you'd found when you'd accosted her.

For a witch, she'd done lousy work on protecting her home. You'd blown through the door and walked straight in without a single obstacle.

She was more powerful than you, you could feel it, but you were on a revenge mission. She never stood a chance.

Apparently, she hated Agatha — and, by association, you — more than she hated witch hunters. "Something had to be done about that witch killer and her girl-toy," she'd spat like it was poison. That had earned her a punch to the face and a blast through the wall.

It wasn't like she was gonna get to go back to that house, anyway.

Her fate was sealed the moment she'd decided to help the hunters.

It was an enemy-of-my-enemy sort of deal. They would look the other way if they'd happened to spot her in exchange for her serving them the worst of the worst on a silver platter. They'd even get a two-for-the-price-of-one discount, with you thrown in as a bonus. Agatha's willing plaything, or so the witch bitch had described you as.

Look how that had turned out for them all.

You'd offered one of the hunters the same kind of deal: the witch's identity in exchange for his life.

And had promptly slit his throat as soon as the name had left his mouth.

You weren't in the business of making deals with people who'd brought harm to your beloved.

You'd ended up having to tie the witch up with bindings embedded with runes. The fighting was getting exhausting, and you were kinda in a rush; Agatha needed you home. So you'd pulled out your secret weapon that you'd brought along for this explicit purpose.

It was cheating of the worst kind, but this was war, and nothing was fair. If she'd wanted a fair fight, she wouldn't have banded together with a group that had been persecuting your kind for centuries in hopes that they would do her dirty work.

All things considered, things were going well.

There was a small hitch when you'd brought her home and had tried to get to the basement. She'd made a run for it, knocking down a vase that you'd never liked, anyway, which had made a loud noise that you were sure would wake Agatha, but you'd had the situation back under control rather quickly.

You'd drawn a circle around her, a barrier that ensured that she couldn't get away. Even if she were to break out of the runic bindings, her power wouldn't get her anywhere. It wouldn't do a single thing.

As long as she remained within the circle, she was yours — Agatha's, actually — to do with as you pleased.

The witch rose up to her knees as you and Agatha came into view. She stared up at you, defiant.

You knew she wouldn't stay that way for too long.

"She's all yours," you said.

Agatha was in awe, licking her lips as if she'd just smelled her favorite food, fresh and steaming on the platter in front of her. Cooling off just got her.

"You've outdone yourself, my love," she said, squeezing your hand to emphasize that she meant it. Every single word.

The praise was music to your ears. Your heart skipped a beat. "I'll leave you to it."

"You're not staying for the show?"

Was that disappointment in her tone?

"I had my fun with the hunters," you said. "Now it's your turn."

Fair was fair.

Agatha pouted, but gave a nod. "Why don't you prepare that bath you promised me? I'll have my fun, and then we can both relax."

The prospect was more than appealing. You could already imagine her naked body against yours, bursting with new magic, the static making you shiver and quiver in all the right places.

"Don't you want some more time with her?" you asked.

"Trust me, honey, it'll be more than enough," she said, lips curling into a wicked smirk. Her eyes flashed purple; a threat, a warning of unsavory things to come.

The witch flinched, terrified.

Good.

Now she knew how Agatha felt. Now she knew how you felt when the woman you loved more than life itself had shown up at your door, battered and broken.

Karma was a bitch.

You pecked Agatha on the cheek. "Have fun, sweetheart."

"Oh, I will," she purred in that delicious way that promised trouble, that promised mischief and mayhem.

She was going to enjoy this. More than she already was.

Throwing one final glance at the doomed witch, you went up the stairs, making sure to close the door behind you.

These weren't the kind of screams you were in the mood to listen to.

Even if Agatha was the one to cause them.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange

[cotl-flower-crown]

Wip showcase

I most likely won't be finishing any of these WIPs, but I figured that I might as well show them off already

This might be a bit long

Obligatory Bishop doodle

They turned out a bit boring tho. I wanted to redraw them properly, both with their bishop forms and follower forms, but I don't think that's happening any time soon.

The Lamb before the execution, aka Kora

That is Angel, before they became the Leader. They were born in the Lands of the Old Faith right before the Sheep Genocide begun. Them and their parents were fated to live a life on the run. It wasn't always bad, but it wasn't easy. Their parents sacrificed a lot to raise them. As you can see one of the sketches is unfinished.

Cotltober "You are what you eat" prompt

Gave up halfway into this drawing, but I think it would be a waste not to show it off. Like to think that the Lamb actually devours the hearts of the bishops to get upgrades

Cotl Red District (gang au) oc

A red panda that Grinder used to know very well in his high school years

Angel's harem

Yes, Angel was supposed to have a harem. Funnily enough, most of them are women. Even funnier, only one of them is not jealous of the other spouses. I wouldn't be surprised if Angel thought for the longest of times that they were a lesbian. First one is Nana, the first follower of the Lamb, second is Ruri, third Sylvia (my OC) and at the last is Narinder, the latest addition to the team. The wives tend to exclude him though, due to the clear favorism from Lamb's side. Well, mostly Nana does, the other two understand Lamb's infatuation.

I wanted to make more doodles of them interracting with each other and a relationship chart, but I've been putting it off for a long time already and I doubt I'll ever get to it

And lastly there is a series of VERY rough sketches for Red District AU lore Those were supposed be Lambert's Isaac's (yes, I changed his name) family photos to depict the family dynamic in his life before he met Grinder

The first one is a wedding photo of his parents. They married young, Isaac's father is beaming, while his mother has more of a toned kind of happiness on her face. She's posing, which is going to be a pattern in these photos.

Second depicts the parents holding their first son, Isaac's older brother. They both look very happy, as they pose for the picture in embrace. A nice heartfelt photo.

Third one is where the tone shifts. It was taken some time after Isaac was born. His father, looking noticably more tired, holds newborn Isaac, while the mother happily clings to her first born son. Shouldn't it be the other way around though? Notably, there is also a bit of a space between the parents, they no longer as much as touch each other.

Fourth one is taken after the birth of Isaac's younger sister. There's notable variety of expressions here. Most of them are clearly forcing themselves to strike a nice pose for the photo. Couldn't hide father's judging look as he observes his wife holding a child that looks vastly more different than any of them, nor could it hide the mother feeling said look like sins crawling on her back. It kinda looks like the parents just finished an argument. Why did they decide to keep it?

Fifth picture is a graduation day for Isaac's brother. The mother is leaning on her unimpressed first son proudly, while holding her daughter closely. Meanwhile Isaac and his dad stand around as if they're not supposed to be there, tired, but still smiling for the picture. Isaac is notably thinner and than anyone else in the photo.

Sixth sketch is about Isaac's graduation. The older brother is not in the picture anymore, off in the college, arguably couldn't bother. Isaac is flusterred by the attention he's getting from his dad, who's clearly doing his best to make up for the lack of attention from his mother. She's just there to strike a pose and look pretty, holding her lovely daughter as if trying to shield her from Isaac.

Seventh picture is of Isaac's sister and her graduation. For one reason or the other, Isaac and his older brother are not in the view. Her mother haven't been this happy since the birthday of her first son, while the sister herself looks more like she's trying her best not to cry. At that point the young girl looks vastly more different than how she looked when she was a child, and clearly she's not happy. Meanwhile the father looks too tired to even acknowledge her hidden despair.

Eighth picture is a complete family photo with the parents and their grown up children. The eldest doesn't seem to care at all, the youngest looks clearly uncomfortable with the presence of either of her older brothers, and Isaac is trying his best to ignore his mother's killer stare with a cute pose. She's clearly not happy with his presence there. The father tries to pleadingly look at his wife, but she doesn't even acknowledge him.

Nineth picture... Welp It is chaos. While Isaac is strangling his mother on the dinner table, the sister is cowering in the corner as their father is rushing in to help in panic. The eldest brother, who's haven't been off his phone the entire time is taking the photo among many.

The dialogue in the 10th picture goes as follow, in case my writing is too hard to read. It was written before I decided to change Isaac's name: Grinder: "Lambert, this is a proof of crime. I think you should get rid of it." Lambert/Isaac: "Aww, that's my favourite one tho!"

Thanks for reading!

[httpvomitello]

Hello! Can I request TMNT 2012 with Fem! Reader as Mitsuri Kanroji from Demon Slayer? Like how they are going to react to her unusual hair color, strength, appetite and her... Unusual taste of clothes?

If it wouldn't be too much can you also write how they are giving her the high socks like Obanai did with Mitsuri?

I am sorry if this request sound rude and if it's to much for you, you are free to ignore my request!!!! Have a good day/night

Hello, hello! No need to apologize for this request that ended up making me very happy to write. However, I didn't want to put all four in one part, so I decided to do it separately. And I have to admit, it's been a while since I've seen anything from Demon Slayer, but I hope you like it! ♡♡♡♡

Pretty Girls Fight Like This! *⁠.⁠✧

It was late one evening when Leonardo first met you, and needless to say, your presence caught him off guard.

You had come into their lives through April, who insisted that you’d be an asset to their team. At first, Leo didn’t understand what she meant. Then, he saw you take down a handful of Kraang droids with strength that rivaled Raph’s, all while laughing like it was a game.

You were... different. Not just because of your insane strength, but also because of your look. Your long hair was streaked with vibrant shades that seemed almost unnatural, your appetite could rival Mikey’s, and your outfit choices? Let’s just say they weren’t exactly “ninja stealth material.”

Leo first noticed your unusual strength during a sparring match in the lair. He had approached the fight like any other, underestimating you just slightly—not in a mean way, but because he wasn’t used to seeing someone as strong as Raph who didn’t have a temper to match.

But then you disarmed him with a single flick of your wrist and sent him sprawling to the ground.

“Oops! Sorry, Leo!” you said, crouching down to help him up, your cheerful smile shining brightly.

Leo stared up at you, dumbfounded. “How... how did you do that?”

You shrugged. “I guess I’ve always been strong. My family says it’s a blessing or something.”

From that moment on, Leo couldn’t help but be fascinated by you.

Then there was your appetite.

It was movie night, and Mikey had insisted on ordering enough pizza for an army. You happily joined in, grabbing slice after slice, keeping pace with Mikey without breaking a sweat.

Raph raised an eyebrow as you polished off your fourth slice. “You sure you’re not part turtle? 'Cause you’re puttin’ Mikey to shame.”

You laughed, wiping your mouth with a napkin. “I just love food! Besides, Mikey’s still the champ. I’m just warming up.”

Leo watched you with a small smile, amused by how effortlessly you fit in with his brothers.

What really threw Leo off, though, was your taste in clothes.

You often wore vibrant, eye-catching outfits that seemed more suited for a festival than sneaking around the shadows of New York. Today’s choice was no exception: a bright, pastel-colored ensemble that clashed hilariously with the lair’s dim lighting.

“Isn’t that outfit a little... Too much?” Leo asked, his tone carefully neutral.

You tilted your head, your hair falling over your shoulder like a ribbon. “I guess so,” you admitted, “but I like feeling cute, even when I’m fighting bad guys. It makes me happy!”

Leo didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nodded, silently wondering how someone could be so unapologetically themselves.

It wasn’t long before Leo found himself going out of his way to do small things for you.

Like when he noticed you always tugging at your socks during training because they kept slipping. At first, he didn’t think much of it, but then he overheard you complaining about it to April one day.

“They’re always falling down! It’s so annoying,” you said, huffing. “But I can’t find any that stay up!”

The next time Leo went topside, he kept an eye out for anything that might help. Eventually, he found a pair of long, durable socks in a shop window. They reminded him of something a samurai might wear—simple but sturdy—and he couldn’t help but think of you.

When he handed them to you a few days later, you were surprised, to say the least.

“Socks?” you said, holding them up.

“They’re supposed to stay up during activity,” Leo explained, rubbing the back of his neck. “I noticed yours kept slipping, so... I thought you might like these.”

Your eyes lit up, and you tackled him in a hug before he could react. “Leo, you’re the best!”

He froze for a moment, then slowly patted your back, his face heating up. “It’s... nothing. Really.”

But to you, it wasn’t nothing. It was thoughtful, and it made your feelings for him grow even more.

As time went on, Leo found himself admiring all the little things that made you... Well, you.

Your strength, your appetite, your eccentric clothes—all of it was part of the charm that made you stand out. And the more he got to know you, the more he realized that you weren’t just a colorful whirlwind in his life—you were a light he didn’t know he needed.

And for you, Leo’s quiet acts of kindness only made you fall for him harder. Whether it was a pair of socks or a word of encouragement during training, he always seemed to know just what you needed.

It wasn’t long before the two of you became inseparable, your bond growing stronger with each passing day. And as Leo watched you laugh with his brothers, bright and unapologetically yourself, he couldn’t help but feel grateful to have you by his side.

[drenosa]

A changing of the season later...

Doctor: So... back again.

Jaune: *Looking drained, again, also in a wheelchair* Uh-huh...

Doctor: *Looking to the side where Blake and Yang are holding eachother's hand and with bellies that have only recently started to swell* With different... companions this time?

Jaune: On their, and my wives' collective insistence.

Doctor: I see...

Blake: Honestly speaking, I couldn't tell who of the three was the greatest influence here.

Yang: Yeah, but seeing Ruby shake Loverboy to "get babymaking already" was a bit weird to say the least.

Blake: As was Weiss having a whole instruction manual ready.

Yang: And Pyrrha actually being the one to tell them to tone it all done a few notches.

Jaune: I get it! I get it. Just get it over with already, Doc.

Doctor: Very well. *Pulls out a pair of binders for Jaune to peruse* Although I must say, it's for the better you are already seated.

Jaune: Oh joy. *Opens the two binders at the same time* ... *Starts laughing maniacally before passing out*

Outside a familiar office...

Raven: So why the fu- *Feels the glare of way too many mothers holding their children* -uuuunction? Why am I here for this... function?

Kali: Because your daughter will soon exit that door, bearing news about your grandchildren. *Smiling sweetly* Ones you will help take care of. *Grinning maliciously* Otherwise I might clip some wings.

Raven: *Blinking at the sudden tonal shift* Maybe, I guess. Maybe if they're str- *Gets grabbed by the shoulder* Aghk?!

Kali: *Holding Raven's shoulder in a crushing grip* No maybe's. You. Will help. Take care of them.

Raven: *Feeling the fear of Gods being put into her* I'm a fucking Maiden?! Whatthefuck?!Whatthefuck?! Okay! OKAY!

Off to the side with Pyrrha, Ruby, Weiss and their 9 daughters, and Pyrrha, Weiss and Jaune's mothers...

Pyrrha: *Heavily pregnant, surrounded by her children* So... Miss Belladonna's kinda scary.

Weiss: *Very pregnant, surrounded by her children* I should invite her to a board meeting at the SDC. The executives would actually take decisions with her around.

Ruby: *Very pregnant, surrounded by her children* I think Salem would get second thoughts when dealing with her.

Mama Nikos: A fierce and proud woman. Such a rare occurance.

Mama Arc: Perfect grandmother material. *Gushing dreamily* Oh, those babies are going to be spoiled to bits!

Willow: Jaune will need a vacation after today, though.

The office door opens...

Yang: *Grinning from ear-to-ear as she pushes a catatonic Jaune out in his wheelchair* Hello mothers and children! Guess what?!

Blake: *Following close behind* More triplets.

Yang: Aw... Blakey. They had to guess!

Blake: He's already *Looking at the heavily pregnant mothers* six out of six on the triplets making. The guessing would've been superfluous.

Jaune: *Giggling like a "mildly" broken man* Eight triplets... eight triplets... eight times three... eight times three... twenty four... twenty four daughters... *Giggles some more before passing out again*

Yang: *Looks from Jaune to Weiss* So... could you spot us some cash, oh Weiss woman of motherhood. We might need to renovate a little bit.

Weiss: *Rolls her eyes at the pun and sighs as she pulls out her Scroll* I will make some arrangements for you to move in with us. The manor is undergoing expansion anyways.

Yang: Baller.

Among all the grandmothers, with some coercion on Raven's part, much rejoicing occurred. All the expecting mothers came together in sisterhood. A sisterhood of the Arc's Arc.

Meanwhile though, slightly away from this wholesome tapestry of Arc familial expansionism...

Nora: *Holding ReNora kid #1 under her arm like a sack of grain* Can't believe I'm saying this, but I think Mothermaker Jaune could use one of those "healthy" smoothies of yours.

Ren: *With ReNora kid #2 in a chest sling, standing taller like a dad* My time has come. *Opens one of the many pockets on his cargo shorts to pull out a 1L canister filled with his smoothie*

Pyrrha: Shout out to the man that made me realize I was bi....

Ruby and Weiss each being held under the crook of her arms...

Pyrrha: AND into polyamory! 💕💕

Ruby: Eh?

Weiss: Huh?

Vanishes into JNPR's dorm room with them...

Pyrrha: 💕💕 Jaune honey! I found our WAIFUs!!! 💕💕

[gatitties]

Heyo! How would Platonic! Straw Hats and Heart Pirates react to their New Crew member Being Deaf/Having Hearing Aids? (I don't know if a hearing aids don't exist in the one piece world, maybe regular snail hearing aids do existed just like bluetooth snail transport, which Nami used from One Piece Live Action)

Cause I am deaf and hearing aids, I am very quiet. I can read people's lips but when I wasn't good at hearing people's speech with my hearing aids, I would pretend to be hearing whatever they say but I got distracted by everything especially there's a puppy or baby around or I only asked my friends or family what they said.

─Strawhats & Heart Pirates x Deaf!reader (platonic)

─Summary: You are unable to hear, but aware of the world around you, lips are your best ally.

─Warnings: none

─ You really have to keep an eye on your hearing device if you don't want Luffy to lose it, he's just curious because he doesn't know exactly how it works, but he'll get distracted and lose it if you ever let him see it.

─ It's not usually a big deal, Franky along with Usopp can make you more at any time, but it's preferable that they don't have to, it takes a lot to set it up for the specific hearing parameters for you.

─ Robin is the one who will catch you up if you get lost when someone is talking, she always notices how your eyes wander to something else that's distracting you, if you ask her she'll answer anything you want to know that you haven't picked up.

─ Sanji always has a small notebook and pen in his suit in case your devices ever fail or get lost during a fight, even if you can read lips, it never hurts to take some precautions.

─ Chopper spends a lot of his time researching if there is a solution for your deafness, even though there doesn't seem to be any progress at the moment, that doesn't mean he's going to stop to give you better hearing.

─ Brook is so sad if you can't listen to his music at some point, and just like Sanji he'll always carry paper and pen, it's hard for you to interpret his words because he's a skeleton and you can't see the movement of his lips.

─ Nami and Jinbe speak much slower or put great emphasis on certain syllables so you can read their gestures better, they tend to be very expressive when communicating if you're close, making it easier for you to understand.

─ Unlike Zoro, he rants uncontrollably and won't modulate shit, he doesn't do it out of spite, really, but he thinks it's good that you try to read lips quickly or get used to different types of modulation, an enemy won't stop to speak slowly just because of your condition.

─ Law has already tried to heal you in many ways, but since that fails, he just settles for you using your hearing device, he trusts that you can read lips perfectly and helps you with that, trying different words, tones or ways of speaking.

─ Bepo is your translator if your thoughts seem much more entertaining than a random person's speech, he will gladly give you a summary of what has been said.

─ At the same time, he is the one who you find it more difficult to read lips because he is a bear and his snout is obviously not a human mouth, although you have quickly learned to understand him, your reading is still not as good with those of his species.

─ Ikkaku, Jean Bart and you have appropriated a few small gestures to communicate in complete silence, a minimal lip movement has a great meaning for you and no one else understands it apart from you, so it doesn't matter if an enemy sees you moving your lips in a strange way, they will never guess what it means.

─ Shachi and Penguin have a little game with you, you disconnect your device and they start making sounds of animals or objects, while you have to guess what it is by the mimicry and their actions.

─ Most of the team carries a small notebook in case of emergencies, if your device breaks or gets lost it won't be that easy to repair it or find a new one since they are usually inside the Polar Tang under the sea.

─ Law keeps some spare components in case this happens, but he is usually careful and will scold you if you ever lose it or something.

[rei-ismyname]

Let's talk R-LDS

R-LDS or Resurrection-Linked Degenerative Sickness was alluded to in X-Men #4 and the Infinity Comics before being named in X-Men #7. We're told that Magneto has it and it's directly caused by Krakoan resurrection/The Five, kinda.

Here's Beast doing some alluding.

In the panels above, we learn that Hank McCoy is the only one working on the problem - the problem being Magneto's loss of his powers and his body breaking down rapidly - his very chromosomes unraveling. He seems quite sure that it could happen to 'any of us' though the lack of quarantine suggests it's not contagious.

The next bit of information we receive is from Magneto and Scott in conversation, reflecting on The Iron Night. They took down a wild sentinel that was attacking the town and Mags lost control over his powers immediately after, requiring Scott to knock him out for safety's sake. Scott is no scientist, and while Magneto is a genius polymath autodidact (with plenty of experience in genetics) it's not a character trait that's seen focus lately. Thus, I'm assuming they're discussing it as amateurs and as patient zero in Magneto's case.

Magneto confidently names the condition for the first time as well as using an acronym for it, suggesting it's confirmed to exist, he's had a positive diagnosis, and they're using the term enough to require shorthand. He even spells out the subtext for us - it was a hidden flaw in Krakoan resurrection. I'll come back to that notion. Scott says 'we don't know that for sure,' implying that R-LDS is just a theory or speculation, which Mags doesn't directly refute. Instead he lays out the worst case scenario. They can't both be right here, so what's the deal? Magneto's symptoms are obviously confirmed, but how did they get from there to here?

If Magneto is the first and only person affected by his condition, why are he and Beast so sure about its providence and everyone being in danger? How could they possibly link it to Krakoan resurrection? I'm no scientist but I do know that there's only so much you can conclude from a single data point. Magneto was indeed only resurrected by the Five once, but he died again after that on Arakko (X-Men Red #7). The body he's in came out of a portal from Overspace in Adam Brashear's underwater base (Resurrection of Magneto #3.) His body suffering a condition borne of something that happened to a different body doesn't make sense. Considering he's the only person to return to life that way AND the only one allegedly with R-LDS, that would be the place to start for Beast's sciencing.

There he is, good as new.

Word of God

In a recent AIPT interview, Tom Brevoort removed any ambiguity and just straight up confirmed it. With the caveat that his recent X-history knowledge seems pretty poor, he is the de jure ultimate authority on the matter. I don't agree with that, and not just because I don't respect him as a creator. This habit of on-panel ambiguity and editorialising in interviews is vexing.

It's especially vexing when he contradicts himself. He counterpoints his own information with some of what I just pointed out, but the fact that they've made a list of who was and wasn't resurrected suggests R-LDS is a plot point they're committed to. I have to wonder why he bothered giving a detailed answer to this question if it's 'yes,' then 'maybe', then 'it will definitely be a thing you'll see as we progress.' Saying all of that and then ending with 'we know very little so far' really makes me wonder what he's thinking. Tom Brevoort could have given his usual cagey answer about not wanting to spoil anything, but he didn't here. I'm saving most of my Brevoort-specific criticism for a separate piece, but this glib and irreverent tone is typical of his commentary - even managing a light jab at Jordan D White.

Frankly, I think it's a graceless and cynical development. There are so many character beats, mistakes, and conflicts to use from the First Krakoan Age that choosing to create R-LDS feels like a shot at the core of hopefulness and creativity that blew our socks off in 2019.

HoxPoX

House of X/Powers of X was hopeful and magical. After a decade plus of endless misery and genocides, dull stories and bizarre characterisation, for once mutants got a W. The ability to use mutants working together to right the horrendous wrongs they'd suffered was central to that - the power of community and cooperation. What they built wasn't perfect but The Five was something they got right.

What would possess someone to take the cornerstone of the greatest X-Men story of all time (don't @ me) and try to tear it down? Remember, when the dust settled we ended up in Moira X life 10E. In 10A, the original Krakoan experiment, the mutants won! They thrived and protected what was theirs against Dominions. It took a literal apex AI God existing outside of space and time directly opposing them to fail. Enigma, on the back foot, sent Omega Sentinel through time to start ORCHIS years early and ensure Krakoa's collapse. Am I to believe 'no, sorry. That was a dead end?'

Haven't we been here before?

We've had mutants suffer from the Legacy Virus and M-Pox already, and I might even be missing other examples of nebulous diseases that threatened to wipe out all mutants. Obviously it's the prerogative of the X-Office to use whatever plot points they want, but do we really have to do this again? There are plenty of ways to sideline Magneto as a combatant that don't require repackaging old storylines. We've even had Hank McCoy decades behind the curve desperately trying to catch up before - in All-New All-Different X-Men.

Small World

Defenders-era Hank McCoy might be the worst possible 616 scientist to tackle this problem. He's literally decades behind the science curve and doesn't have the experience in dealing with anything like this. He's not the same guy that worked on M-Pox or the Legacy Virus. He never set foot on Krakoa and has never met any of the Five. We don't know how much data was recorded or kept from The Five but Beast may not have access to it.

Why isn't he talking to Cecilia Reyes, Forge, Jean Grey, Reed Richards, Doctor Strange, Adam Brashear, Healer, Doctor Nemesis? Even doctor dickhead that extorted Storm has the ability to instantly diagnose anyone. It makes the world feel tiny, and when you're following an era of interconnectedness that's just so disappointing. Portraying him as supremely concerned about 'all of us being ticking time bombs' rings hollow if he's working on it solo. Hank McCoy has always had a sense of arrogance where his scientific ability is concerned but not to this degree. Look at the guy! He's hating the stress he's under.

Sins of Sinister and the White Hot Room

I have to wonder if the implications of linking Magneto's illness to The Five's resurrection have been fully considered. The Sins of Sinister timeline ran for a millennium with the Five resurrecting on an industrial scale. Rasputin IV would have noticed, or the Quiet Council. The mutants left behind in the White Hot Room in RotPox spent 15 years bringing back ALL the dead mutants. That's 16 million, minimum. 15 years is less than a thousand but it's still longer than the First Krakoan Age, several times over. Nobody noticed anything? Elixir, member of the Five and Omega biokinetic, with his unlimited mastery of DNA didn't notice anything? Destiny didn't see mutants falling apart? Sounds dubious as hell to me.

Towards the end of the era many humans were resurrected too. 5% of the Five's work was set aside for bringing back poor children etc through the Phoenix Foundation. Steve Rogers was resurrected into his current body on Judgement Day. I am extremely skeptical that this has been considered, and in Steve's case whether the X-Office can even use him.

Conclusion

Magneto's physical degradation has been swift. Here he is in Uncanny X-Men #700, implied to be at most 6 months before X-Men #1. I think I've demonstrated that the concept is nonsensical and to reiterate, I think it's a terrible narrative choice. If I'm being generous, it'll be interesting to see if they can explain R-LDS in a way that makes sense - if they can do something new and interesting with a tired concept. There's only been one issue since it was introduced, so perhaps I'm jumping the gun on breaking it down. Let's check back in 6 months.

What do you think of R-LDS? Do you think my reasoning is sound? As always, I'd love to hear what other fans think.