#to try and get more shine into the drawing for her

[bluiela]

What is your favorite Gwynriel headcanon?

I actually don't have many headcanons (and I feel a little apprehensive sharing something made up in my mind😭😂) so here's a canon gwynriel scene, one of my favorite

Her head ducked, as if remembering it too. That he'd been the one who'd found her that day at Sangravah. "Happy Solstice," she said, as much a dismissal as it was a holiday blessing.

He snorted. "Are you kicking me out?"

Gwyn's teal eyes flashed with alarm. "No! I mean, I don't mind sharing the ring. I just... I know you like to be alone." Her mouth quirked to the side, crinkling the freckles on her nose. "Is that why you came up here?"

Sort of. "I forgot something," he reminded her.

"At two in the morning?"

Pure amusement glittered in her stare. Better than the pain and grief he'd spied a moment before. So he offered her a crooked smile. "I can't sleep without my favorite dagger."

"A comfort to every growing child."

Azriel's lips twitched. He refrained from mentioning that he did indeed sleep with a dagger. Many daggers. Including one under his pillow, How was the party?" Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music.

"Fine," he said, and realized a heartbeat later that it wasn't a socially acceptable answer. "It was nice."

Not much better. So he asked, "Did you and the priestesses have a celebration?"

"Yes, though the service was the main highlight."

"I see."

She angled her head, hair shining like molten metal. "Do you sing?"

He blinked. It wasn't every day that people took him by surprise, but..."Why do you ask?"

"They call you shadowsinger. Is it because you sing?"

"I am a shadowsinger-it's not a title that someone just made up."

She shrugged again, irreverently. Az narrowed his eyes, studying her. "Do you, though?" she pressed. "Sing?"

Azriel couldn't help his soft chuckle. "Yes."

She opened her mouth to ask more, but he didn't feel like explaining.

Or demonstrating, since that was surely what she'd ask next. So Az jerked his chin to the sword dangling from her hand. "Try cutting the ribbon again."ala

"What with you watching?"

He nodded.

She considered, and he wondered if she'd say no, but Gwyn blew out a breath, steadied her feet and balance, and sliced. A beautiful, precise blow, but it didn't sever the ribbon.

"Again," he ordered, rubbing his hands against the cold, grateful for its bracing bite and the distraction of this impromptu lesson.

Gwyn sliced again, but the ribbon remained unyielding.

"You're turning the blade a fraction as it comes parallel to the ground," Azriel explained, drawing his Illyrian blade from down his back. "Watch." He slowly demonstrated, rotating his wrist where she did. "You see how you open up right here?" He corrected his position. "Keep your wrist like that. The blade is an extension of your arm."

Gwyn tried the movement as slowly as he had, and he watched her self-correct, fighting against the urge to open up her wrist and rotate the blade. She did it three times before she stopped falling into the bad habit. "I blame Cassian for this. He's too busy making eyes at Nesta to notice such mistakes these days."

Azriel laughed. "I'll give you that."

Gwyn smiled broadly. "Thank you."

Azriel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow, something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch.

But sleep. He needed to at least attempt to get some.

"Happy Solstice," Azriel said before aiming for the archway into the House. "Don't stay out too much longer. You'll freeze."

Gwyn nodded her farewell, again facing the ribbon. A warrior sizing up an opponent, all traces of that charming irreverence gone.

Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer.

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (46)

***

Despite the uncertainty and the threat of violence hanging over their heads, life goes on. Everyone still works and eats and sleeps, and gets up the next morning to do it again. There are more enforcers in the morning, dark uniforms and helmets, reflective goggles and heavy masks, and few hands lifted to volunteer each day, but the coal still needs to be dug up. People get quicker at shaking off the hushed worry of the courtyard, until the background chatter and noise in level one almost feels like normal.

The mess hall remains loud at night, friends telling stories and drinking away their worries. The only time it goes quiet is when one of the engineers or enforcers step inside, but they don't stay long. They order and take their food out, and conversations continue as soon as the door closes behind them.

One of the kitchenhands takes a shine to Felicia, boldly flirting with her, and Connol spends the night pretending to ignore both of them. Benzo rolls his eyes at the whole thing but Vander feels obligated to try to help him out. "If you like her, you've got to tell her."

Connol reaches for his ale. "I'm not taking advice from someone who gets shot down as often as you."

"Eventually it worked," Silco says, hilariously dry.

Vander laughs but Connol glares at them both in turn. "Is that what you'd do? Really?"

Silco tilts his head to the side, swirling the juice in his glass. He refuses to pay for the whisky in the mess now that they have a bottle of Noxian whisky locked away in the safe at home. (When Vander points out that he almost never drinks it, Silco claims that's not the point.)

"No," Silco says, drawing the words out as he thinks. "I wouldn't. I'd find out what interests were and help her achieve it. That worked on me."

"Yeah, but not everybody's–" Connol stops when he sees the warning look on Vander's face. "I don't even know what she'd want."

It's funny to see Silco look at someone else like they're an idiot. Vander's pretty sure the same expression is on his own face. "You don't?"

"What?" Connol looks around the table, but even Benzo is eyeing him judgmentally. "What?"

"How many times has Felicia complained about wanting to dance?" Benzo asks. "Said there should be music in the mine?"

"Huh."

***

Vander's pretty sure the half-rusted jukebox doesn't come into Silco's hands by fluke. Silco shrugs it off, says it was excess cargo, that the captain just wanted the space back on his ship since it didn't work anymore, but Vander doesn't believe him. Benzo doesn't either, not from the way he snorts when Silco asks him and Vander to move it, but he offers to help Connol work on it once they get it back to the market.

It's definitely a building now. No windows to let in the low murky gloom of daytime but good solid walls to keep out the Grey. They built shelves along the back wall, using staggered boxes to create a staircase. There's one wall built upstairs, a space to lock away goods and tools and building materials, a door that can be locked from the outside and barred from the inside. It's plain, the wood and metal of construction showing through, but it's the first thing built on their land.

The only drawback is that the crevasse is so deep that it holds the Grey until mid-morning. Walking through it, even with gas masks, doesn't sound like a smart idea so Silco and Vander keep sleeping in their little shack in the mines. It doesn't work as a market, either. As Silco points out, if they tell the other miners about it, what's to stop them stealing everything left there while the five of them are working? To keep it safe, you'd need someone guarding it during shifts.

"Told you so," Benzo mutters to Vander, but not loud enough for Silco to overhear.

"You might be glad to have somewhere to run to if things get bad," Vander replies. This morning, there were only six volunteers for twelve positions. It's only a matter of time before something breaks.

***

It happens the next morning, in the most unexpected way. While the miners are shifting their weight on their feet, avoiding each other's eyes, a whole crowd of Pilties walk into the courtyard. Half of them are dressed in some sort of uniform, blue and red with a fancy little vest. The other half are big and burly, wearing good, thick workers clothes and solid boots. They ignore the huddle of miners in the courtyard and walk straight over to the engineers, and follow them into the mine.

"What was that?" Vander wonders quietly and Benzo shrugs.

Silco's still watching them. "It's not enough people to replace us in the mine." He sounds just as confused as the rest of them.

The supervisors announce everyone's working on level one today but they don't say what's going on, what the dozens of topsiders are building in the mine. They try asking Connol but he doesn't know much more than the rest of them. The Pilties are moving the steel down to level two but they're not using the greasers to fix it together.

"Any idea what they're building?"

Connol scratches his neck, just beneath his hard hat. "They got another delivery of steel. It had blades."

Silco's face scrunches up in confusion. "Knives?"

"No, like a fan. Only place I've seen that uses fans that big is the power station," Connol says and then he sees Silco's still confused expression. "They burn the coal, the steam moves the fans and turns into electricity for Piltover. But they couldn't do that in the mine. They lose control if a seam caught on fire."

"They'd need a big, clear space?" Vander asks and Connol nods. "They might already have one. We found it when we got trapped in that cave in."

"The old cavern?" Felicia asks. "With the statue of Janna?"

"If it's as big as you said," Connol allows with a see-saw of his hand. "But even if they could do it, what would they do with that power?"

The dorms and the mess hall run on small, coal-powered generators. Everywhere else in the mine uses lanterns. Riverside uses fireplaces and lanterns and candles from large sea creature fat. There wouldn't be enough demand for electricity to make topsiders invest in a whole power station for the undercity.

"Maybe they want to build factories here," Silco says. "I've heard the factories in Piltover are full of machines that do the heavy work. They'd need power for that."

***

Two weeks in and they still don't know what the company is building. The topsiders keep showing up and working on it but they don't talk to the miners, so no one really knows what's going on. They just know that everyone's stuck working on level one until they get told otherwise.

It's becoming more challenging to meet quota – slower to get access to a cart, harder to get everything marked off – so the four of them have taken to working together, digging up a pile of rock and then submitting all the carts under one name to reach quota. Working through each of their names means at least two of them hit quota, and they just start with the next person the next day.

It doesn't sit well with Silco, probably because they all know he lacks the same physical strength as Felicia, Benzo and Vander. They're good with pickaxes and better with gauntlets, pounding the bedrock until it gives. The one time Silco attempted to use gauntlets, he ended the day with a ring of nasty purple bruises around his arms and swollen, bruised knuckles.

Vander had pressed his lips to each of those abused knuckles. "Avoid the gauntlets in future? Please?"

"Yes, we proved that was not effective."

"We proved that you have no sense of self-preservation," Vander replied, fetching cold, damp rags to take down the swelling. "You must have felt that. You should have stopped."

"At some point, your friends will grow tired of carrying me. It's obvious I'm not contributing as much as the rest of you."

"You were the one who came up with the idea of pooling our efforts. Meeting quota person by person, so we're not risking none of us getting paid. No one's complaining."

Maybe Benzo's complained, but it's not about sharing the work. Benzo complains about Silco's manners, his "high handed" attitude to taking charge. It's not like he's wrong. Vander knows Silco can be sharp-tongued and bossy, taking charge of a situation as if he's the only one who knows anything, but Vander doesn't actually mind it. Silco's usually right and for all his organising, Silco will work himself twice as hard as anyone else.

What he really likes to see is Silco negotiating, getting to be clever and cunning, bargaining without a single flinch. Babette's great at it too, which makes watching the pair of them haggle over rolls of fabric highly entertaining.

Vander doesn't know the difference between silk and satin, but Babette talks about cut and quality, and Silco repeats the captain's words about thread source and dye origin. The pair of them stand over the kitchen table and haggle, volleying prices back and forth until it feels like watching some kind of sport.

It takes half an hour for them to come to an accord they're both pleased with, and then Silco pulls up a bag of cosmetics. This is the one of the reasons Vander enjoys selling to Babette: her workers have no trouble asking for what they want and they'll willingly pay for it. It's always a profitable night.

Plus, there's usually a chance Kane or one of the others will want to test a new purchase and talk Silco into letting them paint his face, lining his eyes with dark smudges of colour, darkening the thin curve of his lips, drawing attention to the sweep of his cheekbones. They make silco look delicate and gorgeous, far too precious for Vander’s clumsy hands.

(Not that Silco cares. He'll just roll his eyes when they get home and tell Vander to wait until he's undressed – he doesn't want to add any more stains to his shirt. Silco is a sight to behold on those nights: all long pale limbs and glittering dark eyes, climbing onto Vander's lap and leaving lipstick marks across his chest.)

"One more thing," Babette says as Silco starts opening his notebook, checking for orders. "I have a job for you. Maybe not one you'd be interested in, but I think you'd be good at it."

Vander takes a step forward, mind already rushing through what kind of jobs Babette offers. He wants to wrap an arm around Silco's shoulder, to protect his claim, but Silco looks over at him and gives an unimpressed shake of his head.

"What's the job?"

"We have a Piltover customer who's been getting aggressive with some of the workers." Babette ashes her long cigarette, weighing her words carefully. "I'm not one to judge, everyone enjoys what they enjoy, but something should be agreed first."

It doesn't make Vander feel better about the potential job.

"I've warned him and he did it again," Babette says, "so I think he needs a good fright. I think a mugging from a few undercity thugs, rough him up. Make him scared to come back across the river."

"You have a few topsider clients," Silco says slowly. "Won't this put them off?"

"Not if it's done on the street and out of sight. He isn't well liked." Babette puffs out a smoke ring that floats in the air. "My other clients are more discreet."

"Vander? What do you think?"

Vander shrugs. "As long as we cover up so he can't recognise us."

"Do we get to keep what we steal from him?" Silco asks and Babette nods. "Okay, we're in."

***

[loopstagirl]

Initiation

For @febuwhump day 8: Bleeding Out

TW: Violence

-x-

“Thunderbird Five to Mobile Control.” 

“Go ahead, John.” Scott glanced up from the readouts he’d been pouring over so he could give his brother his full attention. 

“I’ve got a life sign over to the east.” 

Scott glanced that way, as if hoping to see their latest victim standing waving at him. It was just more rubble and abandoned buildings though. What else did he expect from an area that had been devastated by an earthquake? 

“The boys are still over to the west,” Scott mused. Virgil, Gordon and Alan were shifting rubble and extracting families from collapsed buildings. Scott had spent an annoyingly large amount of time coordinating local rescues. He could always tell in a glance these days which areas had no money: the fallout was always so much worse. 

“I can call one of them back?” John offered. 

“No. I’ll take it.” He turned his back on the officials that he had been liaising with. “I’m gonna punch someone if they don’t stop asking stupid questions. I need a break.” 

He knew the importance of his role. But on rescues like this, when he felt chained to Mobile Control, he itched to be out in the centre of things. 

“I can track-” 

“No,” Scott said quickly. “Stay with the fellas. I need you to be my eyes, John, I was directing them to where the ground was most stable. Take over.” 

“Scott-,” 

“Don’t monitor me, Thunderbird Five. That’s an order.” He dropped his voice. “I need you to watch over the others. I’ll get this guy out and be back before you know it.” 

“F.A.B.” 

John cut the line. Scott understood his brother’s uncertainty. But they’d already cleared to the east. This was someone wandering in to where they shouldn’t be. He (or she) shouldn’t be buried, shouldn’t be injured, unless stupidity was a recognised injury. 

Securing Mobile Control, he grabbed his helmet and set off in that direction. If it wasn’t for the devastation surrounding him, it would’ve been a beautiful day. The skies were clear and the sun was shining. It was no comfort to those who’d had their lives destroyed, but it made a rescue a lot easier compared to doing it in the torrential rain. 

He had to climb over a lot of debris to reach the signal that John had indicated. 

“Hello? International Rescue. Can anyone hear me?” 

“Down here.” 

Scott blinked. It was a woman. For some reason, he’d just assumed only a man would be stupid enough to walk into a danger zone. Maybe that was having four brothers and actively rushing to danger zones themselves. 

He scrambled over a few larger pieces of rock, and found her. 

She was in a hollow that looked like it had once been the foundation of a building. 

“You shouldn’t be here, miss,” Scott said. “Can you reach my hand?”  

He lowered himself until he was flat on the ground, and stretched down to her. He was starting to rethink his ideas on stupidity now that he realised he hadn’t brought any equipment with him. 

She stretched up, and her fingertips just brushed his. Scott wriggled forward, and managed to grasp her wrist.  

“I’m going to need you to climb,” he told her. “I’ll draw you up, but you’ll have to help me. Okay?” 

She nodded. As he pulled, she scrambled up the side, loose stones slipping away underfoot. It was one of the most straightforward rescues that Scott had ever done, even easier than the one time he’d had to get a cat out of a tree. This woman at least understood he was trying to help and didn’t have claws! 

He steadied her as she found her footing.  

“You alright?” He did a quick visual scan but couldn’t see any injuries. The fact she’d managed to climb out as well suggested she was okay. If nothing else, she could get herself help given she was mobile and conscious. 

Speaking of which... He really should get back to Mobile Control. His team needed him. 

She smiled at him, but there was something cold and calculating about it. 

“Yes. Thank you.” She offered out a hand. Ever the gentleman, Scott shook it. 

But she tightened her grip, bringing his arm into her, forcing the limb out straight. Thrown off balance, Scott could only let out a soft ‘oof’ as she punched him suddenly in the gut. 

No. 

Not punched. 

There was a burning pain as the concealed knife sunk into his abdomen. Her smile curled unpleasantly and she gave a savage twist of the blade that dropped Scott to his knees. 

She followed him down as he slowly sank to his side, hands sticky with blood as he tried to do something. Opening his mouth to speak, he could only cry out as she twisted it again. 

“I’m sorry about this,” she told him. “Usually, we’d meet in a bar, I’d get you drunk, invite you back, and only kill you after the greatest night of my life. But what can I say? You can’t get more high-profile than a member of International Rescue. Now...” 

She drew the knife out, wiping the blade on his uniform. He flinched as she shifted her grip on the hilt. 

“Relax. I just need a trophy.” With a few deft slashes, she cut away swatches of his uniform. Anything that had their logo on it. 

“Thanks, pal. You just got me into a, well, let’s say exclusive club. Nothing personal. Have a nice life. What’s left of it, anyway.” 

Without a backwards glance, she walked away. 

Scott knew he had to act fast. He was losing far too much blood: the twisting of the knife had forced the wound far larger than the original stab. He had to pack the wound, call for help, control the bleeding... 

All of which would’ve been far easier if uncontrollable shivers weren’t wracking his body. His hands were slippery with blood; he couldn’t get a grip on anything. He fumbled for his watch, but his vision dipped in and out. He couldn’t even find the buttons, let alone press the right ones that would call for help. 

He was too far out of the way over here. No one was going to just stumble across him. Why had he ordered John to stay focused on their brothers? Had he made contact? Had he managed to hit a button? 

Scott had no idea. A bloodied hand gripped a rock, some shattered piece of what was once someone’s home. He tried to drag himself forward, shifting inch by painful inch across the uneven ground.  

He didn’t make it more than a few paces before the darkness swallowed him whole. 

-x-

“C’mon, John, now where?” Virgil grumbled. He drummed his fingers on the steering column of the Excavator. He envied Gordon and Alan right now. They might be out there in the dust, but at least they could proceed without having to check if the ground was stable enough to take their weight. 

“John? Thunderbird Five, I’m waiting.” 

“Hang on!” John’s snap was out of character and Virgil’s fingers stopped drumming. 

He gave John a minute. That tone of voice gave away he was looking at something else. Usually, Virgil would say that John was the king of multitasking but that tone meant it was something serious. 

“Turn around!” 

Virgil startled, then collected himself. “We’ve cleared behind, John. I know there’s still debris, but no one-,” 

“Get to these coordinates.”  

A light flashed on the control panel in front of him. Virgil frowned as he squinted at it.  

“There’s nothing out there, John. Scott cleared it when he got here.” 

“It’s Scott,” John said. His tone was harried and more stressed than Virgil had heard in a long time.  

“His signal went haywire and now I can’t get him to pick up and-,” John took a deep breath. “Virg, his vitals are crashing.” 

Questions weren’t important. Answers even less so. Virgil slammed the vehicle into reverse and executed a three-point-turn he didn’t know he was capable of and would no doubt make Alan proud. 

The Excavator wasn’t fast, but it was quicker than going on foot. He didn’t try and skirt around the debris in his path, he just steamrolled straight over it. He was almost there when the ground became too treacherous to risk it. 

Snatching up the medkit, Virgil leapt out and started running, letting John guide him.  

He didn’t find Scott as much as he fell over him. 

Virgil stumbled, turned, and swore when he saw the face-down sprawled form of his eldest brother. He dropped to his knees, fighting the instinct to instantly roll Scott over and instead grabbed the med-scanner. He had to know what he was dealing with... 

He swore again when the red lights indicated the trauma. But there was no sign of a neck or back injury and Virgil made short work of rolling his brother onto his back. 

For a moment, he focused his attention on Scott’s face. He was deathly pale, eyes closed, even his lips colourless as his head lolled to one side. 

Then Virgil’s gaze travelled down his brother and he forgot how to breathe. 

Scott’s uniform was torn and it looked as if there were pieces missing from it. But what remained was stained red, blood still oozing from a deep wound in his stomach. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no,” Virgil muttered. He grabbed the kit, hauling it closer. Half the items went flying as he snatched up all the gauze he had, pressing it tightly over the wound. 

“Thunderbird Two, report.” John sounded more in control than before and his professionalism helped cut through the fog descending on Virgil. 

“Deep wound in his abdomen. He’s lost... John, he’s lost so much blood! I think – I think someone stabbed him!” 

It was the only thing he could think of for a wound like this. 

There was silence for a beat. 

“i’ve alerted the authorities,” John said. “And Gordon and Alan are on their way.” 

“They can’t see him like this!” 

“Right. You’ve got a stretcher, have you? An IV bag? You can move him by yourself?” 

As usual, John’s logical mind calmed Virgil down. He wasn’t fooled though: he could hear the slight tremor that gave away how John was really feeling and his fingers were no doubt flying as he multi-tasked to find out what was happening. 

Virgil continued packing the wound the best he could, desperate to try and bring the bleeding under control. Scott’s pulse was weak. Virgil kept having to swallow hard, as if he could push down the rising panic. Every sluggish beat of Scott’s heart stained Virgil’s hands a little more. 

He ran out of gauze before his brothers arrived. All he could do was keep pressure on the wound. The medkit had the basics, but it wasn’t designed for anything more than patching someone up and getting them to safety. 

“Virgil!” 

“Over here.”  

He was surprised by how steady his voice was as his two brothers charged into view. Alan instantly went pale, but Gordon dropped to his knees.  

“We’ve got the stretcher. John’s contacted the local hospital, they’re on standby to receive us and security measures are already being put in place. And I’m ready.” 

“For what?” Virgil stared at him blankly. He hadn’t moved when they arrived, remaining kneeling by Scott, hands pressed to the wound. 

“Donation. We’re the same blood group, remember?” 

Virgil managed a weak smile. It was moments like this that reminded him Gordon had seen active duty. While Virgil was used to dealing with injuries caused by nature throwing a tantrum, Gordon had seen his fair share of what men could do to one another. 

His brother being so calm helped him pull it together. 

“Set the stretcher down next to him. Then help take his weight so I can get a bandage wrapped around him.”  

Something needed to maintain the pressure while they moved him. They worked quickly to secure Scott as much as possible, then shifted him onto the hover stretcher. Virgil activated it until it was floating at waist height. 

“I need one of you to shut down Mobile Control and secure One. The other to fly Two.” 

Neither of them made the usual comments about letting someone else fly his ‘bird. They both knew the gravity of the situation and right now, Virgil needed to be with Scott. 

He started heading towards Two, ignoring the whispered conversation going on behind him. By the time he had Scott secured, Gordon had joined him, Virgil raised an eyebrow. 

“Same blood group, remember? Makes more sense for me to be on hand. Alan will join us as soon as he can.” 

“F.A.B. Go and start pre-flight checks, Gords, we need to get him there asap.” 

Gordon nodded and hurried up to the flight deck. Virgil busied himself attaching monitors to Scott. He didn’t want to start a transfusion until the doctors had seen Scott. While he may have just been trying to convince himself, Virgil was certain the bleeding had slowed. 

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” he told his brother. “Just hang on.” 

“Virgil?” 

John’s voice made him jump but he also wasn’t surprised he’d stayed on the line this entire time. 

“Go ahead?” 

“Hospital is prepped and ready. And I’ve-,” John audibly swallowed. “I’ve spoken to Dad. He’s on his way and he’s sending in the agents to ensure security.” 

Virgil nodded. John knew him well enough that he didn’t need to see the action to know what he was doing. He braced himself as Thunderbird Two lifted into the air. Not as smooth as he would’ve done it, but he also couldn’t complain. Not when he wasn’t prepared to leave Scott’s side. 

Afterwards, he didn’t remember much of the flight. He tried to keep Scott stable, fighting against his slowing heart-beat but managing to keep it clinging on. As soon as they landed, Gordon lowered the hatch and medical staff were swarming around his brother. Virgil stepped back to let them work, but was surprised by the hand gripping his arm as he made to follow them. 

“They won’t let you in,” Gordon said in a soft voice. “You know this.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“Virg. Get changed.”  

Virgil followed Gordon’s pointed gaze and saw that his uniform was covered in blood. The med-bay around him suddenly lurched as he fully accepted it was his big brother’s blood. Gordon’s hand stopped restraining him and instead guided him to the edge of the bed, encouraging him to sit down. 

A few moments of careful breathing brought Two back into focus. Gordon made sure he wasn’t about to pass out, then gave him some privacy so he could change. He switched into civvies and headed out. 

Gordon was waiting for him just outside.  

“I’m gonna go park up,” he said, “meet you inside?” 

Virgil nodded. It was one of the strangest experiences of his life watching Thunderbird Two take off without him in it. But Gordon would stash her somewhere secure and their agents would set a perimeter to make sure she stayed safe. Alan would be doing the same with One right now. Then they could enter the hospital as civilians. The hospital staff knew Scott was International Rescue, but they didn’t need to broadcast it to everyone. 

Gordon had been right about the doctors not letting him anywhere near. By the time Gordon and Alan appeared, also in casual clothes, the only thing Virgil knew was that Scott had been rushed into surgery. No one knew anything else to tell them. 

Tracy One was a fast jet, but it showed how long they’d been stuck waiting as their father arrived before news did. He looked haggard but his sons had no new information to give him. John had already told him everything they knew as Virgil had deliberately kept the line open to ensure their space-bound brother wasn’t left out of the loop. 

Eventually, Virgil could sit no longer. His brother, his best friend, was fighting for his life, and the only thing Virgil could think was that he should’ve got to Scott’s side sooner. If Scott had bled out in that rubble because Virgil had taken too long, he’d never forgive himself. 

He paced, and no one said anything. They couldn’t. Not when Gordon’s leg was jiggling up and down and Alan was picking at the edge of his thumb. Only their father was still, as if someone had carved him from stone. 

It was hours later when a doctor finally arrived. He was still in scrubs. Alan had fallen asleep on Gordon’s shoulder, his brother’s arm looped around him. But Gordon shook him awake and all four Tracys got to their feet. 

“Well?” Their dad said. 

“The knife nicked an intestine,” the surgeon reported. “And you already know he lost a lot of blood. But we’ve managed to repair the damage and his BP has stabilised. He’ll need bed rest, and a lot of it, for a few weeks, but he should make a full recovery.” 

For the second time that day, Virgil’s world spun around him. Gordon and Alan were cheering, but their voices sounded far away as he groped blindly for the chair he was certain should be right behind him. It was his dad’s hand on his back that guided him back into it. 

“Thank you,” his father said earnestly. “Thank you so much.” 

The world came back into focus as the surgeon left, promising he’d send someone as soon as they could see Scott. His dad’s hand was still on his shoulder and Virgil looked up at him. 

“He’s - he’s really going to be okay?” 

“Yes, son. He’s going to be just fine.” 

“Not so sure about that,” Gordon said, grinning. “Who wants to be the one to tell Scott he has to stay in bed?” 

Four answering groans met his question, as even John tried to duck out of that from all the way up on Thunderbird Five. 

[sysig]

Red Eyes and Evil Time, practically the same thing right (Patreon)

[sugarverse]

Hiii! I was wondering if I could request either long or short fic about Tenya Iida. Likes it can be set in a modern setting where's he's a senior college student who's majoring in business and he has to take one more class to get his degree. It just so happened that the class is in the art building, and it is figure drawing (aka nude drawing) . Since he's just now hearing of the extra class he has to take, he's suddenly shocked when the model is an old friend of his from back home, whom he had a childhood crush on. Not only does his feelings for her come back, but he also has to have 1 on 1 section with the model for educational purposes. I kinda want it to be smut and fluff or however you see it fit. Anyway, I hope it's enough+

hi babe! omg I love this idea I kinda went a lil crazy and made it way too long. I hope u enjoy :)!!

𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

word count: 3.5k

mentions of: This is really just the fluff portion of it, kinda suggestive bc he pops a boner and leads to sex in part two. I think I’m going to make a third part simply so the two of you can go on a genuine date andsotheresmoreiidaxblackreaderouthere.

a/n: hells yeah that’s enough, hopefully I did what ya asked and so sorry I went overboard I have serious problems. here’s the smut part bc a 6.7k fic is doing too damn much but i can’t stfu my fault gang

moodboard here!

Tenya Iida.

4th year, Senior in college majoring in International Business and minoring in Spanish at Angelwood College of Arts and Sciences.

The visual arts building had only been a few minutes away from the business side of campus, which he gladly enjoyed the walk. This spring all he needed to finish was two gen ed classes, the rest revolved around his major and minor. His counselor helped set up his ‘missing’ classes before winter break considering he had to fly back to Japan to see his family for the holidays. He was ecstatic to learn all he needed was an art class with lab and a communications class. 

When he asked what the class entailed, all he was met with was “beginner artists learning anatomy.” It didn’t sound difficult, just draw what you see. It would be nice to try something new anyway. He was not much of an artist but like all things Tenya does, he planned to give this class his all. The first week had been pretty easy, learning how to draw what you see with the use of models, shapes, and lines. Nothing too hard to follow. He would practice drawing his friends on the sketchpad he bought specifically for the class as a form of studying in the free time he had.

He neverminded it for the most part, excelling his knowledge in different countries in his free time to get better at his major. Sure they could teach you the technical way to do things, but in the end, everyone is still human. It would be inconsiderate to do business with a country and know little to nothing about their culture! It took almost two weeks for him to finally be able to even start the art project anyway.

As time went on and the January snow grew less and less, it was time to start their first real project of the semester. One on One figure drawing. The class needed to fill out a form explaining their free hours due to the limited art space and everyone's different schedules. Tenya happily filled it out when it was posted, continuing to work on class work from the library so that the lecture room could also be used for said project.

Their professor had explained that in-person class would remain on Mondays and Thursdays. It just worked out better for the models and students to have so much space.

He made the small walk over to the arts building for his last class of the day, a small shine in his glasses as he entered the white light of the room. The walls were anything but bare, artwork and unfinished projects sat in every corner of the room. Paint racks, canvases big and small, even stacks of unused clay. There was a stool sitting on a small platform in the middle of the room, assuming where the model will sit. 

He stood next to the stool for a moment, looking up at the grey February sky through the skylight. The natural lighting was great, almost like a spotlight. He adjusted the lights in the room a moment, dimming them slightly so the white light hadn’t been so harsh on his eyes. He headed over to a more organized table, setting out the art supplies how he liked. He knew he was early, but he wanted to make a good first impression. What’s better than being on time?

He pulled out his laptop, checking that the few assignments for today were done and submitted. A small frown tugged at his lips as he realized he hadn’t finished something completely, typing in the last few answers. He always double checked, technology was reliable.. When it wanted to be. He couldn’t hear the shuffle of slippers against the floor over his typing and frankly, loud thinking. 

He could see someone walk past in a teal robe representing the university's colors. Glancing up from the computer to give the model a proper hello, Tenya opens his mouth to speak but pauses. 

“Y/n?” He asked, almost in a whisper in case he was wrong. A small look of confusion caused him to tilt his head to the side slightly. He hadn’t been able to see you for awhile with such busy schedules, but he knew your silhouette by heart. 

You turn at the sound of your name, mid sliding off the slippers and fumbling with the gold silk of the belt. “Tenya?” You smile, asking as you turn to slide your shoes back on and quickly shuffle your way over to him. He felt his face burn red, frozen in place for a moment with his jaw slack. He stood as if needing to detach from the seat, smiling at your happy demeanor and your quickness to wrap your arms around him. 

“It is you! I know those shoulders from anywhere!” You beamed, feeling his hovering hands slowly place themselves on your back to return the hug. He was very hesitant, simply because you were only in a robe. You pull away, hands resting on your hips and giving him a big smile. “Now what are you doin’ taking a figure drawing class, Mister businessman?”

He let out a sheepish chuckle, “I needed an art credit, W-What are u doing here?” He never had any classes with you at Angelwood, A few honors classes and gym in highschool but other than that, nada. Throughout the course of growing up, your interests drove you to different classes. 

However, classes don't matter when your families are as close as yours and the Iida family. Shared Holidays, playdates, game nights.. It wasn’t like you were some stranger. You both always made time to hang out a few times during the year to catch up without the family just to give a real check on each other. It was his favorite, almost like a mini holiday to talk to you.

He loved spending time with you. You were smart, articulated and incredibly creative. You never took slack from anyone.. Even in middle school he can remember you being the one to stand up and say something when things weren’t right. You were headstrong and determined in anything that you did.. Art majors always get a lot of grief but you never let that deter you. And that was admirable in itself! ..And he had always thought you were so pretty. 

He felt like a kid again, heart feeling as if it’d beat out of his chest at the mere sight of you. It had been around Halloween the last time he saw you, and here it was. Almost Valentine's day.. Still as pretty and bright as he remembered. Your next hangout wasn't for another month or so, so it was nice to see you sooner than that.

“I'm your model, silly!” You head over to the stool, continuing to speak. “The art department asked if I’d help in modeling and I said yes! People were too scared to sign up for the most part. I’m surprised this is the class you picked. Did you want to learn how to draw people?” You slide your slippers off once more, untying the cute bow on your hip that held your robe shut. 

Suddenly the room was very hot and he couldn't breathe. Now his heart really WAS beating out of his chest. He quickly did a 180, shielding his eyes and removing his glasses for extra measure. “WHY– do yoU have.. nothing on underrrrneath?” He croaked, voice cracking as his tone raised slightly.

You tilt your head at such a question, the gears clicking a little later than they should have. “Figure drawing is um.. Nude drawing, Tenya. You didn't know that?” You slide the robe back on, giggling at the flustered man across from you. You could see his shoulders tense, shaking his head slowly.

Now how the fuck could he have missed that.

“I um.. No, I didn't. I thought that it was.. I don't know what I thought. My counselor picked it for me and I.. Most models we've used so far have.. had skin colored undergarments… On.” He let out a nervous laugh, keeping his glasses off. He turns around, cleaning them with the end of his shirt but refusing to look up at you. He needed to mentally prepare his brain to be professional in a situation like this. Not that he minded the glance, he just never thought this would be how..

You prop your feet onto the edge of the stool, interrupting his thought. You held your knees up to your chest so he couldn’t see anything but your bare legs. “Oh Ten, I’m sorry! I can ask someone else to-”

“No! I am perfectly.. capable. It's professional and I can be.. professional..” He put his glasses back on, hand refusing to be steady as he did so. He let out a shaky sigh, smiling at you and finally looking at you once more.

You let out a small laugh at the blush on his cheeks. He was so handsome, but to see him so flustered over little ol’ you? It made your week. “We can start slow, that might help.” you slide the robe down your shoulders, slowly putting your legs back down so he could see your robed torso once more. You stopped at the top of your breasts, letting your collarbone show. “Do you have any specific poses..?” You ask quietly, trying to hold back your amusement.

He sits down, red faced and completely flushed. A nude model.. jeez. From sleepovers to recess, studying together to graduating, and now almost graduating for the final time together. That's something you don’t get to have in every lifetime. But why do these thoughts keep coming back to him now? 

There was no way he could still have romantic feelings for you. He’d never put your friendship at risk like that!

..right?

“I um.. yeah, small.” He cleared his throat, “Could you um.. Could you stand slightly off of the um.. Almost like getting up?” He fumbled over his words, staring at the empty paper as if he could burn the quick image in his brain onto the page to get the embarrassment over with. He sighed once more, trying to focus as he began sketching circles and lines as a starter sketch of the pose he wanted.

“When you need to draw a certain part I'll move it, Sound fair?” You ask, resting one foot onto the stool and one onto the ground. Your hand gripped the seat as your butt sat on the edge, similar to when people do that supposedly hot thing where they throw their head back and pull some weird rope to have water get poured on them. 

It was second nature at this point for people to see you. Of course some of them were flustered and it was pretty awkward at first, but normally not to the point of stuttering and stammering. It wasn’t often that you saw Tenya fall apart, but this was way different. Especially considering you flashed him without warning. He was one of the most endearing people you had ever met, there was no way you would have done that without proper context.

He could only nod in response, not wanting to further make a fool of himself. Lightly tapping the pencil against the table, He looks up at you. “You can um.. re.. remove the top part, y/n..” It was hard to simply draw your arms and collarbone without including the robe, so you might as well rip the band-aid off and start with the top. 

You nod, dropping it happily and letting the robe pull around your hips and between your legs. You close your eyes, facing up toward the skylight in an attempt to make him less nervous. “Sorry for flashing you at first, I would have explained but I assumed you had already known..?” You laugh quietly to yourself at your own mistake. Why would someone like him even take this class if he knew what it actually entailed?

And God, did he feel like a pervert staring at your chest like this. The boner poking his thigh almost immediately didn't help, making it even harder to concentrate. Way to keep composure. He pressed his lips together for a moment before speaking. “I had no idea, I’m sorry for my r..reaction.” He answered, stopping the pencil tapping to actually begin sketching more than just circles and lines. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he felt like he was close to passing out. 

“I think it was a pretty valid one.” You send a reassuring smile his way, seeing him send you one right back. Trying to ease the mood, you look back up at the ceiling and close your eyes to avoid staring at the ugly overcast sky above you. “How was winter break? You get to go home and see your family? How are they?” 

His smile grew wider at your question, scooting under the desk a bit more so that you hopefully wouldn’t notice his body reacting. “They’re great, Tensei is getting married soon,” He sounded excited at the thought alone, incredibly proud of his brother. 

“And my mother has started a hobby making soap, if you can believe it. She sent me some to bring back one that smells like lavender and another that smells like oranges mixed with I believe she said papaya.? She made a coconut smelling one for you– I was going to give it to you the next time we saw each other,” 

The sound of his sketching stopped and started as he spoke, giving your body small glances as he tried to study each part of your upper torso. The way your stomach creased, The way your shoulder was slightly lifted causing your collarbone to be more prominent, the curve of your breasts.. “How was your Holiday, y/n?”

“No way, Tensei is getting married?!” You accidentally stop posing, fully facing him in genuine shock. The robe was still covering your lower half, you had tied the belt to avoid accidentally flashing him again but here we are. You watch his face become even more red, eyes very obviously not meeting yours but still like a deer in headlights. 

You quickly get back to posing how you were, “Sorry Ten, That's amazing!! I hope everything goes smoothly for him and his soon to be wife.. And tell your mommy I said thank you for thinking of me. I can't wait to try it!”

A smile stayed on your lips as you thought about the times you’ve spent in the Iida household. His mother always had the best candles and incense burning, you were positive the soap would be the same. “My family is up to the same old shit, you know them..” You let out a small groan, the holidays weren’t an absolute disaster, but after not being home so long makes you remember why you aren’t going to school anywhere near home. 

“I did get some cool stuff for Christmas though! I got some new clothes and they got me a few art kits. You know, where it teaches you how to crochet? I also have a new diamond painting kit, I haven't opened either yet because it's just been so busy.” You replied, tapping your fingers on the side of the stool where your hand sat. 

You look up once more, this time because the skylight was beginning to be covered in snow. You watched as it fell, thinking back to old times when you and Tenya would spend the last three major holidays with each other. You’d always make sure to trick or treat together, your families have been sharing Thanksgiving for as long as you can remember, and spending the night in your basement on Christmas eve to wait for Santa until you were both too old. Then instead of waiting for Santa, you’d all eat at least one meal together on Christmas day. Sometimes homemade breakfast, other times a small trip to IHOP or Waffle House.

“God damn it.. It’s snowing again..” You let out a small laugh, looking over at him over your shoulder, fingers still tapping away at the base of the stool. “Hey Ten, Do you remember when we used to have those big snowball fights? The one near Red Fern?” 

“Of course I do! You refused to wear any kind of gloves and my mother would make you at least put socks on your hands so you didn’t get frostbite!” The two of you shared a small laugh at the memories of being young and dumb.

“Gloves always made my hands too itchy! They still do– But I kicked your ass in snowball fights with gloves or not.” You retort, a smirk appearing on your face. “Ice queen y/n of everything.” You could remember the insane snowball fights the neighborhood kids would have every. time. It snowed. If there was enough to make a few snowballs, there was enough to start a war. Tenya was always on your team, but it never stopped you from throwing a few his way. The ‘winner’ was King or Queen of the hill and first to sled down, which often enough was you.

“Remember when you almost broke my glasses throwing one right at my face?” He snickered, watching your smirk turn into a small pouty frown. He knew you didn’t mean to, that same day you helped your mom make cookies for him and his family as an apology, even though he wasn’t upset to begin with. But you knew it could have broken his glasses and you would be devastated if you were the reason for it. You were a real sweetheart, even if you had a weird way of showing sometimes.

“Hey! You know that wasn’t on purpose, I felt really bad after! I even let you get me back!” Which was true, but he never aimed for your face. Always a spot on your fluffy coat, never your legs because you hated your pants being wet… and a face shot just felt wrong to him. 

“Yeah, Yeah. I remember that part too,” He smiled to himself. “Those were really good times.. I remember Tensei always bringing us hot chocolate and we’d sit on your porch and draw things in the snow..”

“Oh! And when we’d come back all wet and mom already had spare clothes in her hands because she didn’t want it on the carpet. We’d put on too big clothes just to sit and watch Christmas movies..” You missed those times. But they never really had to stop, you two could have a huge snowball fight after this if you wanted to and the snow stuck. Was he too grown for that? Would it even sound fun to him?

“Do you still watch A Year Without Santa Clause every year?” He asks, breaking your train of thought. You nodded quickly at his question, grinning like a maniac. “Of course I do! And I watch Charlie Brown’s Christmas, Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer.. And sometimes Spongebob's Christmas Special. Do you still watch old Christmas cartoons?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t wanna ruin tradition.” He answered, pressing his lips together slightly as he stared down at the paper. You can tell he freezes a bit, the sound of his scribbling coming to a stop. He set the pencil down, rubbing the sweat of his hands onto his thighs.

 “You can um.. remOove-..” He quickly cleared his throat, “The rest.” He let out a disappointed sigh at his inability to keep composure. This wouldn't be half the problem it was if it was someone else modeling. But this is you we're talking about. 

“You sure? If you need a minute we can take a break, honey.” You gave him a sympathetic look, still smiling but this time more.. warm. The kind of smile someone gives to another when they genuinely care for them. Or love them for that matter. He adored it, it was the same smile you'd give him when saying he needs to take a break, the same smile you give him when the two of you out to get coffee and catch up. The same smile he's fallen for many, many times. 

But to tell you the truth? It’s driving him crazy. All of this. Was driving him crazy. No matter how hard he tried to be professional, he could stop his wandering mind. You were a goddess. What else was there to do besides take a break and hopefully release some steam in the bathroom or something. Completely inappropriate, but the pain from being hard for so long was starting to cloud the best judgment. 

He looks down at the sketch so far, then back to you as he rubbed his hand upward against his face. It pushed his glasses up, causing them to be crooked when going back down. “I um.. I think I do.. need a minute.” His voice died out as he watched you slide the robe back on, words failing him because couldn’t think completely straight.

© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot and helps me out. Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!

thank you @thecutestgrotto for the banners and thank you @fizzintine for coloring the top pic!

have a good day/night/whatever!

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; fem!reader

satoru loves it when you intertwine your fingers with his as he eats you out. it's romantic. he's making out with your cunt while his eyes are still glued to your fucked out face; eyebrows scrunched and lip between your teeth, threatening to draw blood – you're gorgeous.

every once in a while he pulls back just to press kisses to your thighs and smiles to himself when he feels you squeeze his hands. you squirm and wriggle, desperate for him to kiss her again but he's taking his sweet, sweet time. he just wants to taste you, to have you. to love you. this is intimacy at its peak for him – lips on lips, he will eat you like he's starving (he is), like you're his last meal. he won't let you go until you can feel his adoration run up and through your whole body.

pre-cum stains his lower abdomen as he humps against the mattress below him but he doesn't care – his own pleasure is secondary at this moment. his cock aches and his balls twitch but it just doesn't fucking matter. he will gladly make a mess of the sheets underneath if that means he gets to devour you like this.

a mixture of his spit and your own slick dribbles down from your messy cunt as he laps at your heat like a starving dog. he can't get enough, he needs more and more and more. he sucks on your clit and he tongues at your hole, grinning into you when you give his hands another squeeze. when you sob out his name with tears brimming in your eyes, he gives you a knowing hum – the vibrations make your body burn and it only takes him another 30 seconds to have you gushing on his tongue.

thrashing and twitching, you throw your head back into the pillow. satoru doesn't let go of your hands, no matter how much you try to pull away; he watches your chest rise and fall, he watches the sweat shine on your neck and he cannot help but smile again. his lover – under him, completely overwhelmed by pleasure and affection, there's literally nothing else he could ever possibly want<333

[kirammanswifey]

arcane characters when they're jealous x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i really loveddd writing this, just imaginating each scenario was so satisfying, silco's and viktor's were my favorites. i loooove viktor so much i could write about that man each day of my life and never be get tired of it. btw request are open! ;)

Viktor

The lab was especially lively that afternoon, with new ideas flowing among the team. You were conversing with a new colleague, a young enthusiast who seemed to have a knack for understanding complex concepts. His questions and comments kept you engaged, and you couldn't help but smile at his contagious energy.

From his desk, Viktor occasionally glanced up, observing the interaction. At first, he seemed focused on his own calculations, but every time your laughter echoed through the space, his hands paused over the paper, and his gaze slightly hardened.

After a while, he stood up with his careful stride and approached you and your colleague, placing a hand on the edge of the table where you were working.

"Excuse me, could you come with me for a moment? There's something we need to review together," Viktor said, his tone polite but with a firmness that didn't go unnoticed.

"Of course, Viktor, give me a second," you replied, finishing explaining one last detail before turning to him.

Viktor waited for you to stand up and guided you back to his desk. When you both were seated, he leaned slightly toward you, his eyes searching yours.

"It seemed like you were quite involved in your conversation," he commented, trying to maintain a casual tone but failing to hide the hint of jealousy in his gaze.

"I was just explaining some of the previous projects," you said, gently touching his hand to calm him. "Nothing I can't share with you."

Viktor nodded, relaxing slightly at your touch, but he didn't let the subject drop so easily.

"I'm glad to hear that. Sometimes, it's easy to forget that there are things only we share, isn't it?"

His voice was soft, but the intensity of his words made your heart beat a little faster. You knew Viktor rarely showed his emotions so openly, and seeing that protective side of him was something you couldn't ignore.

"Viktor," you said, smiling and intertwining your fingers with his. "You know you're always the first person I think of when something excites me. No one can replace you."

The shadow of jealousy that had been haunting him slowly faded, replaced by a slight smile that barely curved his lips. Viktor leaned in a bit more, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek, a caress that spoke of the trust he had in you.

"I know," he whispered. "I just needed to remind myself."

Jinx

The air in the Undercity was thick with smoke and raucous laughter as you made your way into an underground club with Jinx. The vibrant music filled the space, and the crowd moved like a wild tide. You had come with Jinx to get distracted, but soon found yourself caught up in a conversation with an old acquaintance. His words were lively, but your attention was divided between him and the flashes of blue in the background, where Jinx was watching.

Jinx stayed in the shadows, her bright blue eyes shining intensely as she watched you laugh and chat with someone else. Her jaw was tense, and her fingers nervously played with a grenade she had pulled from her belt. Jealousy boiled inside her, mixed with a latent fear that she might lose you.

When the man placed a hand on your arm to emphasize his point, Jinx could no longer hold herself back. She cut through the crowd with the agility of a predator, her presence drawing attention as she advanced toward you.

"Hey! How about you get lost before things get ugly?" Jinx interrupted the conversation with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, her voice laden with a barely concealed threat.

The man quickly stepped away, recognizing the danger in Jinx's tone. He had barely disappeared into the crowd when Jinx grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward a less crowded corner of the club.

"What the hell was that?" you asked, surprised by her abruptness.

Jinx stared at you, her eyes reflecting a storm of emotions. "I didn’t like how he looked at you. I didn’t like how he touched you. You’re mine, understand? Only mine."

The intensity in her voice took your breath away. It was as if her whole world revolved around you, and the idea of sharing you with someone else drove her mad.

"Jinx..." you began, trying to calm her, but she was already moving closer, her hands on your hips, pressing you against the wall.

"I don’t care if I’m too much. I don’t care if you think I’m crazy. I can’t stand the idea of someone else trying to have what’s mine," she whispered, her lips inches from yours.

"Jinx," you said softly, cupping her face in your hands. "I understand how you feel, but you can't act like this or treat people that way. You have to trust me. I’ll never leave you, but you have to believe in us. You have to believe in me."

Her eyes softened for a moment, and she nodded slightly, her breathing still heavy but beginning to calm.

Her words were a whirlwind of passion and possessiveness, and before you could respond, her lips found yours in a fierce kiss, filled with need and latent desperation. Her body trembled against yours, and you felt the chaos of her emotions spilling into every movement.

When she finally pulled away, her eyes searched yours, pleading and vulnerable. "Promise me you'll always stay with me. That you’ll never let anyone come between us."

"Jinx, I could never want anyone else," you said, stroking her cheek gently. "I’m here, and I always will be."

Jinx closed her eyes, resting her forehead against yours as her breathing steadied. "I love you... too much."

Vi

The atmosphere in the alley was charged with electricity. The crowd gathered around the makeshift fight ring, silently placing bets as they watched the imminent confrontation. You knew what Vi did, what she had done her entire life. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and anticipation wrapped around her like a shadow. But this time, something was different.

Beside you, Vi was ready, her gloves tightened, muscles tense beneath her shirt. The fierce look she shot at the man in front of her was nothing new; they had seen it dozens of times. But this time, something shifted in the air. Maybe it was the way she glanced at you, as if trying to make sure you were okay before the fight began. But you knew the man facing her wasn’t just another opponent. He was a guy with bad intentions and an overly confident smirk.

"Hey there, pretty," the man approached you with a smooth tone, his gaze far too bold as he caught you off guard. "Surely, you’ve got more to offer than just standing here watching your girl fight, right? Why don’t you come with me after this? I can make you forget all this chaos."

You didn’t expect that attitude, and your discomfort was evident, though you didn’t want to make a scene. You tried to keep calm, but the weight of the situation crept over you. However, before you could respond, the man gave your arm a touch, seeking your attention, breaking your personal space.

Vi didn’t think for another second.

With a low growl, like a caged beast, she approached him. Her eyes gleamed with fury, her body tense, ready to strike, but before she could, the man sneered.

"What’s the matter, sweetheart? Bothered by a little distraction?" the man taunted, his tone more provoking than sympathetic, as if testing how far Vi’s patience could stretch.

"I suggest you walk away," Vi snarled, the rage bubbling in her voice, as she stepped closer, her muscles marking a clear threat that she wouldn’t let anyone touch what was hers. But the man didn’t give her the chance to do anything. With a provoking smile, he tried to step closer to you, completely ignoring Vi.

Before he could get any nearer, Vi shoved him back with a sharp punch that echoed through the place. "I’m the only one who touches her!" Vi’s voice boomed with such intensity that the air seemed to freeze.

The crowd shuddered, expectant. The guy, who thought his attitude could intimidate, now found himself cornered by Vi’s fierce rivalry, his previously confident eyes now filled with a mix of surprise and fear.

"I told you to walk away," Vi repeated, her tone so grave that the man had no choice but to retreat.

The fight began.

The crowd dispersed as the bets continued, but Vi saw nothing beyond her target. Every punch she threw at her opponent was filled with fury. She wasn’t just fighting for money or respect; she was fighting for you. The idea of someone daring to look at you, touch you, think they could make you theirs, drove her to lose control in a dangerous way.

The man tried to fight back, but Vi, with her agility and strength, knocked him down once again, this time with a punch so powerful that the sound of the impact echoed in everyone’s ears. In seconds, he was already on the ground, defeated, and Vi stared down at him before turning toward you.

Your heart pounded as you watched the scene. Vi was drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, but her gaze was solely on you.

Vi walked toward you with the swagger of someone who had just won, her smile full of pride.

"Did you enjoy the show?" she asked, her tone softer but still carrying a hint of challenge.

"You really love putting on a show, don’t you?" you responded sarcastically, a playful smirk forming as you wrapped your arms around her.

Vi leaned in, her eyes darkening with intensity. "It’s not about the show," she murmured, her voice low and fierce. "I can’t stand anyone touching you or even thinking they can get close to you."

A grin tugged at your lips. "I love it when you get possessive," you whispered, your gaze locked with hers.

Vi’s expression shifted to one of amused delight before she pulled you into a wild, passionate kiss. "You’re mine," she growled against your lips, the ferocity of her claim sending a shiver down your spine.

You kissed her back just as fiercely, your hands tangling in her hair. "And you’re mine," you declared, your voice firm with equal possessiveness. The world around you faded into irrelevance, leaving only the two of you, caught in a storm of desire and fierce loyalty.

Caitlyn

The elegant gala in Piltover had unfolded without incident, as expected from an event of such magnitude. The city's high society was enjoying the evening, and you, as a special guest, were no exception. Caitlyn, always poised and reserved, had invited you to accompany her, and in her role as hostess, she was the center of many conversations. However, your presence hadn’t gone unnoticed by a few.

The soft murmur of conversation turned into something more charged when a man you hadn’t seen before approached with a calculated smile. Clearly part of the elite, he had an impeccable demeanor and the gaze of someone who knew how to get what he wanted.

"Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice how stunning you look tonight," the man said, smiling with a tone as smooth as it was dangerous. "I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you, but I believe I’d like to. Would you care to join me for a quieter drink? Perhaps we could find a more secluded spot to chat."

You quickly noticed his tone was more than a simple invitation, bordering on an insinuation that made you uncomfortable. You tried to smile politely, but before you could respond, you felt Caitlyn’s presence next to you.

Caitlyn’s response was cold as ice, but instead of speaking, she closed the distance between you and her with a grace that turned every head in the room. She placed a gentle yet firm hand on your waist, pulling you close, and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. The simple act silenced the murmurs around you, establishing her claim without a single word.

Turning to the man, Caitlyn’s voice was soft but carried a steely edge. "My partner isn’t interested in your offer," she said with a calm, unwavering gaze that could cut glass.

The man’s smile faltered but quickly returned, broader and more calculated. "Surely, she can speak for herself. Maybe she’s just being polite."

Caitlyn’s expression didn’t waver, but there was a glint of sharp amusement in her eyes. "I won’t repeat myself. The invitation is declined," she said, her voice like silk wrapped around steel. She took a step closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she continued, "And I’ve heard whispers about certain irregularities in your financial dealings. I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to take a closer look, would you?"

The man's face paled as the words settled in, his bravado crumbling under the weight of Caitlyn’s veiled threat. Without another word, he mumbled an apology and quickly melted back into the crowd.

Once he was out of sight, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly. "You can be a bit extreme sometimes, you know that?"

Caitlyn turned to you, her eyes softening as a small smile curved her lips. "When it comes to you, I’ll do anything. I would go to any lengths for you."

Caitlyn’s words hung in the air, and without another thought, she gently pressed her forehead against yours, closing her eyes in a quiet, tender moment. The world around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you in the stillness. It was a gesture of love, of connection, so intimate that nothing else mattered. Slowly, she whispered, "I love you."

"I love you too," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you held her close, both of you savoring the shared warmth and affection.

After a beat, you pulled back slightly, your eyes glinting with mischief. "But the event must go on, right? You can’t let one old, pretentious, corrupt man ruin your mood."

Caitlyn chuckled softly, the faintest blush rising on her cheeks as she glanced away, clearly embarrassed by the playful suggestion. "You really know how to make me laugh," she said, a genuine smile pulling at her lips as her usual composure returned.

"You have to show them how well Caitlyn Kiramman performs as a host," you teased, your voice playful. "A night like this is your stage, and that man doesn’t deserve to ruin the performance. Besides, you can’t let anyone think they can just mess with you."

Her laughter filled the air, and Caitlyn couldn’t help but shake her head at your teasing, the blush still present on her cheeks. Taking your arm with an elegant, almost theatrical gesture, she smiled at you. "Alright, let’s show them how it’s done," she said, the regal composure she always exuded returning in full force.

As you both walked away, side by side, the night unfolded once more, but it was clear—nothing, not even the interruption of a rude guest, could take away from the quiet, unspoken bond between the two of you.

Jayce

The night stretched on, filled with bright lights, laughter, and glasses of wine being raised in what seemed to be an exclusive gala of Piltover's high society. The crowd, elegant and wealthy, flowed through the hallways, engaging in lively conversations about scientific and political advancements, but you couldn’t help feeling out of place amidst so much luxury.

Jayce, always by your side, looked every bit the perfect gentleman in his perfectly tailored suit, smiling, but with a slight shadow of concentration that betrayed the way he observed the surroundings. As if he were seeing beyond the faces, detecting every detail. His fingers rested gently on your lower back as he guided you through the crowd, protecting you from any uncomfortable glance or word.

“Come on, it’s fine,” he said, smiling at you tenderly. “Just a little more patience, then we’ll leave.”

Before you could respond, a man, someone who clearly wasn’t unfamiliar to you due to his overly flashy style and even more obvious intentions, arrogantly approached, interrupting your conversation with Jayce.

“What a pleasure to see you here. The beauty of Piltover doesn’t stop at inventions, does it?” the man said in an excessively flattering tone, his eyes clearly evaluating you in an uncomfortable way. The way he approached wasn’t that of a friend or acquaintance, but rather of someone who was clearly interested in something more. He came too close, not to greet you in a friendly manner, but as if he were recruiting you for something you didn’t want.

You felt the growing discomfort in your chest. But before you could say anything, you felt Jayce’s presence beside you. Somehow, without the man saying another word, the space between him and you seemed to shrink. Jayce didn’t show aggression, but the aura of power that emanated from him was enough to make anyone think twice before continuing.

“Well, who would have thought tonight’s gala would be so… interesting?” Jayce said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, observing the man as if evaluating him from head to toe. “I wonder if your compliments are as easy to come by as they seem, or if it’s simply an innate talent of yours.”

The man stood silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Jayce wasn’t looking at him with disdain, but with a smile that was almost kind, though it left no room for doubt: he wasn’t welcome.

“You know,” Jayce continued in a soft voice, but with a hint of mischief that only he knew how to wield, “I think my lady here, doesn’t need any more empty compliments from someone who’s only interested in the surface. She’s here for her intelligence, for what she brings to the city. And I think that… is far more attractive than any cheap remark you could make.”

The man, caught by Jayce’s passive-aggressive tone, hurried to apologize and walked away, unsure of how to defend himself against the elegant subtlety with which Jayce had disarmed him.

Once the politician had gone, Jayce turned to you with a warmer smile, his eyes softening when he saw that you had remained silent, a little tense from the exchange.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently, caressing your arm delicately. “I don’t like it when you’re bothered, but you know I won’t let someone so… bland… get close to you like that.”

You smiled, relieved by his intervention but also a little overwhelmed by how perceptive he had been. “Thank you, Jayce. I didn’t know how… to handle the situation.”

He smiled tenderly, his eyes shining with confidence, as always. “You don’t have to,” he said as he got closer, gently cupping your face. He looked at you intently, and without warning, placed a soft kiss on your cheek, the gesture so full of affection that it made your heart skip a beat.

“But if you ever need help getting someone to leave you alone, you know I’ll always be here,” he said, his voice filled with sweetness and protection.

And as you continued walking through the gala, with the gentleness of his touch and his firm presence, you felt that, despite the challenges you sometimes faced, you had someone who knew how to handle any situation without losing his class or his affection.

Ekko

You're walking through the streets of the Undercity, a place known both for its decadent beauty and constant danger. Today seems to be one of those days when the city has a somewhat more chaotic air, but somehow, you feel more at peace than ever with him by your side. Ekko, as always, accompanies you with his relaxed attitude and that confident smile that rarely disappears from his face.

Suddenly, an unknown man appears out of nowhere, interrupting your conversation with Ekko. He gives you a blatant, shameless look, approaching you with the obvious intention of grabbing your attention. He’s the type who clearly believes he can have you with just a few words.

“Well, what do we have here?” he says, with a smug smile. “A beauty like you around here? I can’t imagine why someone so special is wasting their time with a guy like him.” He looks at Ekko, then shifts his gaze back to you. “I’m sure you and I could do great things together. What do you say? I could show you what it really means to live.”

Before you can respond, you notice Ekko, apparently unfazed by the situation. He stops, lets out a light laugh, and approaches, observing the guy with an expression that clearly shows he’s taking the situation as a joke.

“Seriously?” Ekko says in a playful tone, as if he were watching some kind of comedy show. “So, you’re offering my girl ‘what it really means to live’? Let me tell you something, buddy: if she really looked at you, you’d know you’re not even close to being ‘a big deal.’”

The stranger stands there a bit stunned, clearly not expecting such a direct response. Ekko continues, not wasting a second. “You know what? Don’t worry, I won’t waste your time. I’m sure you and your ‘great proposals’ have an audience somewhere else, but… seriously, I recommend you stop wasting your breath here.”

The guy seems confused, and seeing that Ekko isn’t remotely jealous or concerned, he tries to change his tactic. “Come on, don’t be like that, I was just being nice. I’m sure you don’t mind a little competition, right?”

Ekko looks at him with a wide grin, but it’s clear he’s taking nothing seriously. “Competition? Was that a threat or a joke? Because, seriously, if you thought I’d be worried, I think you’ve misunderstood everything. I don’t know if you’re used to dealing with people who don’t know what they want, but let me clarify something: don’t waste my time, buddy.”

The guy seems to finally understand that he’s not going to get anywhere and, somewhat embarrassed, walks away quickly, mumbling something incomprehensible as he retreats.

Ekko, seeing him leave, turns to you with a mocking smile. “See? He didn’t even bother to keep going. Like someone like him had a chance.”

You laugh at his carefree attitude and move a little closer to him, gently touching his arm. “Doesn’t it really bother you when someone approaches me like that?”

Ekko places a hand on his chest, acting as if he’s deeply hurt. “Bother me? No, not at all. I’m so sure of myself and what we have that those things don’t affect me.” Then, he smiles knowingly. “Besides, you know there’s nothing that guy could do to win me over. If you cared about anything else, you’d already know.”

You look into his eyes and, with a playful gesture, touch his cheek. “I don’t know if it’s confidence or arrogance, but I like it.”

Ekko laughs softly before leaning in a little closer to you. “What you like, girl, is that I’m the only one who can make you laugh even in the most ridiculous situations. And if that’s not what matters, I don’t know what does.”

Suddenly, he leans in and gives you a soft kiss on the cheek, as if it’s as natural as breathing. “Come on, let’s not waste any more time with guys like him. Let’s do something better. But before…” He stops for a moment, his playful gaze fixed on you. “Tell me, when did I learn to become this irresistible?”

The situation lightens with his relaxed attitude, and the confidence he has in what you two share makes you smile. With Ekko, there’s no room for doubt or worry. He knows what he has and how to handle anything that comes his way.

Silco

The meeting room is thick with the heavy atmosphere of a business that has no place in the light of day. The men around you are shadowed figures, accustomed to the illegality that runs like poison through the veins of the Undercity. Silco sits at the head of the table, his presence a shadow that dominates the space, and you’re beside him, as always. No one dares to look beyond his presence, and everyone knows that it’s not just his partner who must be respected, but you as well.

You’re his, that’s what everyone thinks. No one dares to say it out loud, but it’s clear in the air. The way he treats you, how he keeps you close to him at all times, how his gaze never leaves you. Silco doesn’t speak of what is obvious, but everyone knows. You are his in a way that no one dares question.

The meeting is tense, filled with discussions about contracts and dirty deals, but the tone shifts quickly when Finn, one of Silco’s oldest and most dangerous partners, leans back in his chair with a cocky grin. This guy’s been in the business for years and isn’t intimidated by the threat Silco represents. But this time, he’s gone too far.

“You know, Silco,” Finn begins, twirling a cigarette between his fingers, a mocking smirk on his face. “I think it’s a waste to have this beauty always by your side and not put her to work properly.” His laugh is bitter, full of malice, and his eyes fix on you with an unsettling intensity. “How about you let me borrow her for a day? Or better yet... how much would I have to pay to spend a night with her? You must be making a good amount from such a treasure, right?”

The air freezes instantly. The room falls silent, and even the toughest men know that a very fine line has just been crossed. Silco doesn’t speak for a moment; there’s something about his calmness that’s terrifying, a calm that always precedes a storm.

Silco slowly raises his head, his dark eyes fixed on Finn, his gaze as cold as steel. His face remains unchanged, but the atmosphere around him grows thick, dangerous.

The silence is absolute, and all eyes are on Finn, who is now visibly uncomfortable. However, Silco doesn’t budge. At that precise moment, his gaze shifts toward Sevika, his right-hand woman, who stands by the wall. Sevika’s imposing figure doesn’t need words to understand her boss’s intention. Silco gives her an imperceptible nod, and in an instant, Sevika moves with lethal speed.

In the blink of an eye, Finn is at the table, a loud thud fills the room as Sevika slams him against the surface, his face now smashed against it. Everyone watches in silence, as if the very air has stopped, knowing that Silco’s simple gesture has activated the kind of violence that should always be avoided in his presence.

“I’d suggest you think very carefully before you speak, Finn,” Silco says calmly, his gaze fixed on the humiliated man. “Because I don’t like anyone questioning what belongs to me, and certainly not disrespecting it like that.”

Finn staggers, slowly getting up, embarrassed and frightened. However, it’s not enough. Silco looks at him as though he’s observing a pest, and his tone is all Finn needs to understand this is his final warning.

“Now, apologize to her,” Silco orders, his voice almost a whisper of pure threat. “And do it in a way that reminds you how low you’ve fallen, because I’m not willing to tolerate such disrespect in my territory.”

The room is in absolute silence. The tension could be cut with a knife, and all present, even the toughest men, don’t dare make a single move. Finn, trembling, has no choice but to give in. He turns toward you, his face conflicted but clearly defeated, and his voice, full of humiliation, rises in the air. You almost felt sorry for him.

“I… I’m sorry,” he murmurs, shame and fear evident on his face. “I shouldn’t have spoken like that. I apologize.”

Silco doesn’t say anything, but his expression says it all. It’s a clear message: never again.

After a few seconds, the situation lightens slightly. Silco returns to his seat, and the room resumes its usual rhythm, though the fear still lingers in the air. No one will dare challenge him again.

When the tension finally dissipates, Silco turns toward you, and his gaze softens when he sees that you’re unharmed, calm. There’s an intensity in his look, a protective possessiveness that never fades. He takes your hand firmly, guiding you toward the exit of the room without saying another word.

Silco is not a man who needs to explain his gestures. His presence, his actions, speak for him. In his world, no one touches what belongs to him, and anyone who does will learn, like Finn, what it truly means to cross the line.

Mel

The council meeting is at its most tense, with politicians and businesspeople discussing agreements, but something in the air changes when a man, one of the most influential businessmen, dares to flirt with you. He leans toward you with an arrogant smile, throwing out bold comments.

"I’ve always wondered how someone as... attractive as you ends up next to a woman as cold as Mel," he says with a smile. "How about we grab a coffee later? I’m sure we could talk about things much more interesting than this boring meeting."

Silence spreads across the room. Everyone watches the situation, but Mel doesn’t change her posture. She stays silent, but the tension in her body is palpable. Something in the air tells you this is not a game she’s willing to tolerate.

"Do you dare talk about her like that?" Mel finally speaks, her tone soft but laced with threat. "Last time I checked, this meeting wasn’t a place for cheap advances."

The man, who had been confident, now looks visibly uncomfortable. "If you speak like that again, I assure you, it won’t be coffee you’ll be having, but a much... bitterer deal."

The threat is clear. All eyes focus on the man, who now seems small and uncomfortable. Mel doesn’t need to raise her voice for everyone to feel the weight of her authority.

"My apologies," he murmurs, embarrassed, not daring to look at them.

Mel responds with a cold smile. "I suggest you remember who’s really in control here."

The man nods quickly, speechless. Mel turns toward you, her calculating gaze fixed on you.

"Are you okay?" she asks, and though the question is soft, you know it’s a reminder that no one, not even him, will dare approach you in that way again.

You nod, feeling the security that only Mel can provide. No one will touch what’s hers.

"Let’s go," Mel says, rising gracefully. "We’ve got work to do."

The dynamic has shifted, and the room remains silent, but everyone knows Mel has made it clear who holds the power. You, being hers, are not only protected by her power but by her cunning and absolute control.

As you both leave the room, Mel stops at the threshold, looking at you with an almost evaluative expression.

"And don’t forget," she says quietly, "this is not just for you. It’s for everything you represent." She gives you a look that seems to assess your reaction, as if making sure you understand what’s at stake. "This is just the beginning."

The hallway is silent, but when you both take another step, Mel turns to you with a smile that, although subtle, carries a hint of satisfaction. "Never let anyone underestimate you, especially when they have no idea what they could lose."

She looks at you for a moment, and you realize that, beneath her power and control, there’s something else... something tender.

"I care for you because you’re mine," she whispers, but not possessively—more like a promise, as if she’s telling you that in this world of chaos, she will always be your refuge.

Before you can respond, Mel leans slightly toward you, capturing your lips in a soft kiss, but one full of intensity that leaves you breathless. It’s a short kiss, but enough to convey everything that can’t be said in words. The contact is warm, protective, and for the first time in a long time, you feel completely safe in her arms.

When she pulls away, her eyes seek yours with the unwavering confidence she’s always had, but now with something more. "Don’t forget this," she says, lightly touching your face. "No matter what happens, you’ll always be mine."

With a smile, she takes your hand, and without saying another word, you both continue walking.

Sevika

The hustle and bustle of the streets of Zaun echoes in the distance, but inside the tavern, the atmosphere is dense, heavy. The man approaches the table with that confident look, not as subtle as he thinks, and his words slide out like sweet poison.

"Well, who are you?" he says, smiling as his eyes boldly scan your figure. "A woman so brilliant, so... stunning, in a place like this."

Sevika doesn’t flinch, but you can see the tension ripple through her body, as if something dangerous is about to explode. Her eyes, cold as steel, follow the man while he continues talking, completely unaware of the danger he’s creating.

"I’m sure there’s more behind that facade," he says, getting closer, his voice too near your ear. "A beauty so rare, so unique, can’t just be a pretty face."

The discomfort grows inside you, but it’s Sevika who feels it first. Her expression shifts from calm to contained fury. She looks at you for a moment, as if asking for permission to act, and when your eyes meet, you know the situation is about to turn dangerous.

The man persists, but Sevika won’t tolerate it anymore. She stands up, her boots echoing on the floor with a firmness that makes everyone fall silent. Her words come out as a whisper, but they are loaded with a threat that everyone feels.

"If you don’t leave right now, I’ll make you wish you were never born," she says, her voice low, but her deadly tone unmistakable.

The man steps back, and his eyes finally show fear. Sevika gives him no space to react, her presence crushes him, forcing him to step back, and without saying another word, the man turns and disappears into the crowd, his ego shattered by Sevika's imposing figure.

She returns to her seat, the calm returning to her face, though the intensity of her gaze doesn’t fade. She looks at you, and for the first time, her lips curve into a smile that’s anything but kind. It’s pure possessiveness, a warning without words.

"Does it bother you when someone gets that close to you?" she asks, her tone almost playful, as if testing your limits.

You look at her, feeling the heat in your chest. There’s no fear, only confidence, because you know you’ll always have your strong, powerful woman by your side to protect you, to defend you from anything that tries to break the bubble you’ve built with her. You move closer slowly, her eyes never leaving yours.

"I feel fine," you reply with a seductive smile, letting your words linger between the two of you. "I know I’ll always have you—my strong, fierce, and captivating woman, who will always protect me." You flirt as you settle comfortably in her lap.

Sevika raises an eyebrow, a playful yet dangerous smile curling on her lips. Her hot breath brushes against your neck. "Good that you know," she whispers, her voice low and raspy, laden with a desire only you can understand. "Because as long as I’m by your side, no one will touch you. And the best part... is that you don’t even have to ask. I’ll take care of them in an instant."

"You’re so extra," you smile, biting her muscled arm playfully.

"Do you always have to do that?" she asks, not annoyed but intrigued, her hand gently petting your head.

"What can I say?" you reply with a teasing glint in your eyes. "It turns me on seeing you so jealous and possessive over me."

She growls softly, then grabs her beer, finishing it in one swift motion. Her gaze sharpens as she takes your hand.

"I think it’s time to head home," she says, her voice dripping with intent. "I plan to make the most of this behavior of yours while I can."

Sevika intertwines her fingers with yours, a silent promise that no one and nothing will dare cross that line. As the noise of the tavern continues, you and Sevika are momentarily isolated in your own world of protection, passion, and control—where only she holds the power to keep you safe.

[poobit]

i have many thoughts on how Mouthwashing handles the themes of abuse and the symbolism around it especially as a survivor ... im not gnna hold back so -

first of all i think since its clear the point Jimmy is dismissive of Anya´s personhood and his perception is warped towards what he does as a Captain rather than what he does as a man, it makes sense she doesnt get her own labyrinth or such , i cant argue around that because its realistic he´s so male focused he cant even bother to truly think about what he did to her, i would love it if Wrong Organ decides to do a side story vignette of her own perspective and view in the future if the game proves its successful enough for side content like that.

Assault is something usually not handled with subtlety in games, i think what struck me the most was how real the dialogue of her coping and suicidal ideations and how Curly responded to it felt , the dancing around the subject, the deflection, the "whats next" of the ever impending consequence of pregnancy, how Anya pleads for help from the person she trusts but nonetheless a man unequipped and too emotionally attached to the abuser to be able to confront him, its so real, Curly´s lack of initiative is something Jimmy fully takes advantage of the moment things dont go his way, he turns everyone against him even as a helpless body on a bed because he needed to be in control of the situation, thats what abusers do.

A more sensationalistic game would have easily played Anya´s helplessness and assault for shock for sure, because it would be easy, she is the archetypical victim trope, shes modeled in Wendy Torrance likeness from The Shining, shes meek and unsure of herself and Jimmy shoots her down from the very beginning to make her feel unqualified and cornered, but the furthest the games goes is making Jimmy terror towards the pregnancy and the baby as a boogeyman that crawls and tramples over him. No sights of bleeding legs or her crying or screaming and much less present objectification of her body (which is something that i always think the horror genre has such a struggle not grabbing onto, sexuality is mostly always played up in assault stories especially if the victim is an adult woman), she remains a fully clothed figure and maintains the agency to her own demise, away from Jimmy and beside Curly, which is tragic and obviously still a symptom of horror´s proclivity to back female characters into corners of self inflicted punishment, but the alternative would have been that sooner or later, Jimmy would have killed her.

Its clear to me that the game used Curly´s state as a way to put a barrier between Jimmy and Anya, we dont objectify Anya, but we objectify Curly, Anya doesnt just feel pained and unable to handle Curly´s medication because shes in a sensitive state, her comments about his noises and such draws a line between her trauma and her perception of things as Her fault, she cant handle hearing his struggles and cries trying to swallow a pill because it reminds her of her own helplessness, so she leaves the task to Jimmy, someone who has no qualms in forcing someone down, the emphasis of every treatment as a repetitive process and the sound design is all very poignant and for me, a great way to handle assault as a metaphor, Curly did not consent to being in this position, it is very much still Jimmy´s fault and the fact that Jimmy is basically keeping him alive against his will even to the last moment of the game says everything, Jimmy doesnt love Curly the same way he doesnt love Anya.

The horses are not lost on me, i think horses as animals are often seen as "viril" symbols, strong and often volatile, they can be often hard to mount but when one does the rider and animal are seen as this one all powerful entity, like centaurs, which also carry symbolism of assaulters mind you, so while maybe not intentional on the dev´s part i think it still points to the Horse as a symbol still important in the game, the only spoken audio lines of dialog come from the Pony Express mascot Polle itself, and they are the first to actually confront Jimmy´s self centered line of thought and over-focusing on Curly, if the Tulpar is akin to a beast of a burden then Jimmy beat the dead horse way long ago.

All in this to say that Mouthwashing was a really good experience and i really hope the dev team is interested on expanding a bit more on it because i trust their vision.

[yamujiburo]

Why I Love Hanamusa

I get this question very frequently but have never given a really in depth, definitive answer. All just kinda implied through my comics and spread out asks. So here's this I guess! Long post ahead:

First, as a Pokémon fan in her mid 20s, I love seeing a ship where the characters are both in their mid/late 20s. Already, they’re much more relatable to me and my current experiences. Most Pokémon ships are between preteens, which can be cute but ultimately don’t interest me as much as they used to when I was a kid myself. Not enough to get super invested in and draw a lot of fanart for anyways haha.

I’ll also start by saying that canon doesn’t always influence whether or not I’ll ship something. I’m much more drawn to potential. Could the characters work together? Do their personalities work together in a nice way? I feel like this so much of fanon is anyways. Especially with queer relationships because they’re rarely depicted in the first place. A lot of the context for these ships is usually up to the fans to piece together or make up in general. And that’s the fun part to me!

Jessie and Delia have only met in the anime a handful of times. Any interaction they’ve had has either been pleasant, or just a typical Team Rocket interaction, with Delia dismissing them/not seeing them as a threat. Already a great jumping off point for me since, truly, they don’t have any actual beef or true, ill feelings towards each other. It’s not TOO out of the realm of possibility for them to potentially fall for each other. “But Jessie chased Delia’s son around trying to steal his Pokémon!” That’s where that dismissive and aloof attitude that Delia has comes into play. I’ll go more into Delia’s whole deal a bit later but I do think this aspect of her personality is a large reason why this ship can work. It’s not that she doesn’t care that Jessie has a bad past, but she can tell that, on the inside, Jessie’s a good person. And, in a scenario where Jessie is trying to become a better person, is forgiving enough to give her a shot. I feel like this is such a solid foundation for a ship. A character who has done wrong but is trying to be better and another character who is willing to help them be better. A classic dynamic!

It’s not just one-sided though; where Jessie is the only one benefitting and learning from the relationship. I believe Delia could get a lot out of being with someone like Jessie. To understand why, I think it’s important to know these characters’ respective backstories.

Jessie is an orphan/foster child who grew up in poverty. Her mother Miyamoto (from The Birth of Mewtwo) was a Team Rocket operative herself, who went on a mission to find Mew. In order to do this, she had to leave Jessie when she was just a toddler. Unfortunately, Miyamoto went MIA on her mission leaving Jessie to more or less fend for herself. Jessie went through life with zero stability, evident by her MANY different careers and constant moving around. It’s implied in the show that she went from foster home to foster home, and later in life tried being an idol, weather girl, florist, wine connoisseur, actress, most notably a nurse and finally a Team Rocket field agent. And even while in Team Rocket, she, James and Meowth were always doing odd jobs to get by. We see that Jessie used to be a sweet kid, and even adult, but the world and her circumstances repeatedly did her dirty, leading her to become the character we know today. Hot tempered, mean, selfish, etc. But despite this, her soft side does still shine through for the people and Pokémon she cares about. She is incredibly loyal.

Delia, unbeknownst to a lot of fans, also had a rough past (see Pocket Monsters: The Animation). Like Jessie, she had a lot of dreams and aspirations like wanting to be a model and even a trainer. But when she was 10, her mother didn’t let her, telling her that she had to stay home and learn to run the family restaurant (she’s an only child). Delia’s father left her and her mother to be a trainer, and never returned. When she was 18, she married Ash’s father and became pregnant shortly after. But right after Ash was born, he also set off to be a Pokémon trainer. And soon after that, her mother passed away, leaving Delia with just the restaurant and baby Ash. This gives so much context to Delia’s attitude in the show. We see that Delia is pained whenever Ash leaves on a journey, but she never shows that pain to anyone. ESPECIALLY Ash. She’s very quick to shoo him off when he shows any sign of wanting to go on another journey and even when he returns home, she acts more excited to see Pikachu than him almost every time. Without all this backstory, it’s easy to just read this as a funny gag, BUT with context, I think it really shows how quickly Delia shuts down and detaches in order to not confront her own feelings. She’s afraid of losing people and getting hurt again.

All that said, I think Jessie and Delia provide each other with EXACTLY what the other needs. 

Aside from becoming rich and famous, Jessie’s biggest aspiration is to get married. In my opinion, this is more so an underlying want for love and stability. There is no one more stable in the show than Delia. Delia’s lived in Pallet her whole life, she’s worked at the same restaurant since she was young and she is always there when Ash comes back home. She has all the love, patience and stability Jessie needs and craves. While forgiving, Delia’s not stupid and can keep Jessie in check. Delia’s also just an angel, which I feel, would make Jessie want to be better. And on top of all this, on more of a surface level, Delia’s a chef and excellent cook. She shows love through cooking and Jessie, who grew up poor, regularly starving and eating snow, happily receives that love. Jessie’s able to live a happy and healthy life with someone like Delia.

Delia, as stated, is very stable. Likely pretty monotonous and solitary, especially living in such a small town like Pallet. This isn’t a bad thing but it’s a little sad when you consider that Delia also had dreams of traveling, being a model and a trainer. She had to give up so many dreams in order to fulfill her duties as a restaurant owner and mother. And even now, when Ash is off on his journey, she feels the need to always be home and be that stable pillar, leaving behind any ambitions she had, thinking it’s too late for her (she’s only 29 btw). But then along comes Jessie, dangerous, passionate, an absolute firecracker. Someone who’s whole life has been about chasing dreams and either, never giving up on them or finding a new dream to chase. Upon learning about Delia’s past aspirations, I could see Jessie pushing her towards them, letting her know that life’s too short and she has nothing to lose from trying. On top of this, Jessie’s also loyal. She, James and Meowth are depicted as doing anything for anyone who gives them food or shows them kindness. Delia does both so there’s no way Jessie would leave her. This fulfills an essential need for Delia, who is afraid of the people in her life leaving her.

There’s so much potential for mutual growth and learning between these two and I adore that. They compliment each other, they help each other and they bring out the best qualities in one another.

I’m not really sure how to end this and I could truly talk about them even more but I don’t want this to be tooooo long haha. OH I could end it with maybe the most funny aspect of this ship that I've brushed over and also what drew me to it in the first place. Jessie. As Ash’s stepmom. THE END.

[phamapple]

LOVE IN THE SPOTLIGHT

When Y/N, a shy and talented student, catches the eye of schools celebrity Karina, she's swept into a whirlwind romance. But as they navigate the challenges of fame and relationships, they must confront their own feelings and doubts. Will their love shine bright, or will it fade under the spotlight?

Warnings; fluff, angst, fem!reader, kissing, ups and downs, Karina is lowk down bad, freader is mean at first, mentions of bullying and past trauma, lmk if I missed anything cuz I think there’s a lot that I missed :P 8.7k WC

Karina was the kind of girl who commanded attention without even trying. Her stunning looks, athletic build, and charming personality made her the campus crush. Everyone knew her name, and everyone wanted to be her friend – or more.

As she walked down the hallway, her long legs striding confidently, she flashed a bright smile at her admirers. She was used to being the center of attention, and she lapped it up like a cat in cream.

But amidst all the chaos, there was one person who remained oblivious to Karina's charms. Y/N, the quiet girl who always kept to herself, didn't even glance up as Karina passed by. She was too busy scribbling notes in her journal, her dark hair falling around her face like a curtain.

Karina's eyes flicked to Y/N, a familiar pang of curiosity sparking within her. Why did this girl remain so immune to her charms? What was it about her that made Karina want to try harder?

As Karina continued down the hallway, she couldn't shake off the feeling that she was missing out on something special. And she was determined to find out what that was.

—

The crowd was electric, cheering and chanting Karina's name as she took to the court. She was a force to be reckoned with, her movements fluid and confident as she dribbled the ball down the court.

But amidst all the chaos, Karina's eyes scanned the crowd, searching for one person in particular. And then, she spotted her – Y/N, sitting at the back, her head down as she scribbled in her notebook.

Karina's heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of Y/N's dark hair, her slender fingers moving deftly across the page. She felt a surge of determination – she was going to make Y/N notice her, no matter what.

As the game began, Karina put on a show, sinking shots and making impossible passes. The crowd went wild, cheering and whistling, but Y/N didn't even flinch. She just kept drawing, her eyes fixed on the page.

Karina tried everything – she spun the ball on her finger, she did a behind-the-back dribble, she even attempted a slam dunk. But no matter what she did, Y/N didn't spare her a glance.

It was as if Karina was invisible, and it was driving her crazy. She began to wonder if she was just a ghost, floating around unnoticed by the one person she wanted to impress.

But then, Karina caught a glimpse of Y/N's profile, her eyes flashing with annoyance as she gave a side glare to the people sitting next to her. They were being too loud, and Y/N's patience was wearing thin.

Karina's heart skipped a beat as she realized that Y/N wasn't as oblivious as she seemed. She was just... selective. And Karina was determined to be the one she selected.

As the match drew to a close, Karina noticed Y/N getting up from her seat, an annoyed look on her face. Karina's eyes lingered on Y/N for a moment before she turned her attention back to her teammates, who were gathering for a group photo.

As soon as the photo was taken, the coach dismissed them to take showers. Karina quickly rushed out of the gym, her eyes scanning the hallway for any sign of Y/N. Her "fans" cheered and followed her, but she managed to lose them in the crowd.

Finally, she spotted Y/N in the hallway, packing up her bags. Karina's heart skipped a beat as she approached Y/N, a playful smirk spreading across her face.

"Look whose in a hurry," Karina said, leaning against her locker.

But Y/N didn't even glance up. She just kept packing, ignoring Karina completely.

Karina's eyes never left Y/N's back as she walked away, her smirk faltering for a moment. She was taken aback by Y/N's complete disregard for her. No one ignored Karina like that. Ever.

For a moment, Karina just stood there, frozen in surprise. Her fans, who had finally caught up to her, looked on in confusion, wondering why Karina wasn't reacting to Y/N's brush-off.

But then, Karina's expression changed. Her eyes narrowed, and a determined glint sparked within them. She pushed off from the locker and started walking, her long strides eating up the distance between her and Y/N.

"You know, I'm not used to being ignored," Karina said, her voice low and smooth, as she fell into step beside Y/N.

Y/N didn't even flinch, just kept walking with her eyes fixed on the floor ahead.

Karina's smile grew wider, her competitive streak kicking in. She was intrigued by Y/N's indifference, and she was determined to get a reaction out of her.

"Hey, are you okay? You seem a little... distracted," Karina said, trying to sound concerned.

But Y/N just kept walking, her silence a palpable force that Karina couldn't seem to penetrate.

Karina's eyes locked onto Y/N's, her heart racing with anticipation. She had expected Y/N to be beautiful, but nothing had prepared her for the intensity of Y/N's gaze. Those dark features seemed to draw Karina in, making her feel like she was drowning in their depths.

Y/N's words, however, were like a splash of cold water. "You know, you're quite talkative," she said, her voice flat and emotionless.

Karina's face fell, her excitement deflating like a punctured balloon. She had been expecting... something more. A spark of connection, maybe, or a glimmer of interest. But Y/N's words were like a slap in the face, leaving Karina feeling silly and exposed.

"Hey, someone's got to fill the silence," Karina said, trying to sound casual despite the sting of Y/N's words. She leaned against the locker, her eyes never leaving Y/N's face.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her expression still unreadable. "Is that what you're doing?" she asked, her voice dripping with skepticism.

Karina's heart skipped a beat as she realized that Y/N was actually engaging with her. It might not be the most enthusiastic conversation, but it was a start. And Karina was determined to see it through.

Karina continued walking side to side with Y/N, her eyes still locked on Y/N's face. "So, what's your favorite subject?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. "Why do you care?" she asked, her voice flat.

Karina felt a flutter in her chest as she met Y/N's gaze. There was something about Y/N's reserve that drew her in, made her want to chip away at that tough exterior. "I care because I'm interested," Karina said, her voice a little softer.

Y/N's eyes narrowed, her gaze piercing. For a moment, Karina felt like she was being stripped bare, her motivations laid out for Y/N to see. But then, Y/N's expression softened, just a fraction.

"Math," Y/N said, her voice a little less flat.

Karina's heart skipped a beat as she smiled, feeling a spark of connection. "Really? I'm more of a language person myself."

As they talked, Karina found herself becoming more and more attracted to Y/N. There was something about Y/N's quiet confidence, her sharp intellect, that drew Karina in.

But Y/N's past seemed to be shrouded in mystery, and Karina couldn't help but wonder what had made Y/N so reserved, so wary of connection.

As they talked, Karina couldn't help but notice the vast differences between them. Y/N was quiet and reserved, while Karina was outgoing and confident. Y/N was a math whiz, while Karina struggled with numbers. Y/N was content with solitude, while Karina thrived on social interaction.

Despite these differences, Karina found herself drawn to Y/N. She loved the way Y/N's eyes sparkled when she talked about math, the way her hair fell in soft waves down her back. Karina was captivated by Y/N's intelligence, her wit, and her quiet strength.

As they stood there, locked in conversation, Karina felt a sense of connection she couldn't ignore. She took a step closer to Y/N, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Hey, can I get your number?" Karina asked, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies in her stomach.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flickering across her face. For a moment, Karina worried that she had misread the situation entirely.

But then, Y/N's expression softened. She smiled, just a little, and reached into her bag for her phone.

"Sure," Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Karina's heart skipped a beat as Y/N's fingers brushed against hers, sending shivers down her spine. She felt like she was melting into Y/N's eyes, losing herself in their depths.

Just as Y/N was about to hand over her phone, a loud voice boomed down the hallway.

"Karina, we need to talk!"

Karina's head jerked up, her eyes scanning the hallway until they landed on her best friend, Rachel, striding towards her with a determined look on her face.

"Rachel, what's up?" Karina asked, trying to sound nonchalant despite the disappointment coursing through her veins.

Rachel glanced at Y/N, her eyes narrowing slightly. "We need to discuss the party tonight," she said, her voice firm.

Karina sighed, feeling a pang of frustration. She didn't want to leave Y/N's side, not when things were finally starting to heat up.

But Rachel's expression was unyielding, and Karina knew she had no choice but to follow her friend.

"Sorry, I'll catch you later," Karina said, smiling apologetically at Y/N.

Y/N nodded, her expression unreadable. "Later," she repeated, her voice soft.

As Karina turned to follow Rachel, she felt a pang of disappointment. She had been so close to getting Y/N's number, to making a real connection with her.

But as she glanced back over her shoulder, she caught Y/N's eye, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them crackling like electricity.

Karina's heart skipped a beat as she realized that this wasn't the end of their conversation. Not by a long shot.

Karina tried to focus on the party, laughing and chatting with Rachel and the other guests. But her mind kept wandering back to Y/N, wondering what she was doing right now, whether she was thinking about her too.

Rachel noticed Karina's distraction and raised an eyebrow. "Hey, what's going on?" she asked, her voice low.

Karina hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. But Rachel was her best friend, and she knew she could trust her.

"I met someone today," Karina said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rachel's eyes widened with interest. "Who?" she asked, her voice eager.

Karina smiled, feeling a flutter in her chest. "Her name is Y/N. I met her at school today."

Rachel's expression turned thoughtful. "I think I know who you might be talking about," she said. " oh the quiet girl that her hair always covers her face?"

Karina nodded, her heart racing with excitement. "That's her."

Rachel grinned mischievously. "I can help you track her down," she said. "I'm sure I can find her socials or something."

Karina's eyes lit up with hope. "Really?" she asked, her voice eager.

Rachel nodded. "Yeah, I'll do some digging. But you have to promise me one thing."

Karina raised an eyebrow, curious. "What's that?" she asked.

Rachel's expression turned serious. "You have to be careful, Karina. We don't know much about Y/N, and I don't want you getting hurt."

Karina nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude towards Rachel. "I'll be careful," she promised.

And with that, Rachel set off to track down Y/N's socials, leaving Karina to wonder what the future might hold for her and the mysterious Y/N.

—

Karina's heart skipped a beat as she spotted Y/N on the rooftop, her sketchbook open on her lap. She felt a rush of excitement, remembering the way Y/N's eyes had sparkled when they talked about art.

As she approached Y/N, Karina noticed that the other girl was completely absorbed in her drawings, her pencil moving swiftly across the paper. Karina smiled, feeling a sense of wonder at Y/N's talent.

She sat down beside Y/N, trying not to startle her. Y/N looked up, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Karina's presence.

"Hey," Karina said, trying to sound casual.

Y/N nodded, her eyes dropping back down to her sketchbook. "Hey."

The silence between them was comfortable, but Karina couldn't shake the feeling that Y/N was still wary of her. She glanced over at Y/N's sketchbook, her eyes widening as she took in the beautiful drawings.

"You're really talented," Karina said, her voice sincere.

Y/N's pencil paused, her eyes flicking up to meet Karina's. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them crackling like electricity.

Then, Y/N's gaze dropped back down to her sketchbook, her pencil beginning to move once more. "Thanks," she muttered, her voice barely audible.

Karina smiled, feeling a sense of triumph. It was a small step, but at least Y/N was talking to her again. And as she sat there beside Y/N, watching her draw, Karina felt a sense of peace wash over her.

As they sat there, Karina noticed that Y/N's drawings seemed to be getting more and more intricate. She leaned in closer, her eyes scanning the paper.

"What are you drawing?" Karina asked, her voice soft.

Y/N's pencil paused, her eyes flicking up to meet Karina's. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them building.

Then, Y/N's gaze dropped back down to her sketchbook, a small smile playing on her lips. "You," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Karina's face flushed with surprise and delight as she took in Y/N's words. No one had ever drawn her before, let alone as a gift.

As she took the piece of paper from Y/N, Karina's hands trembled slightly. She stared down at the drawing, her eyes widening in amazement.

It was her, all right. Y/N had captured her likeness perfectly, from the shape of her eyes to the curve of her smile. But it was more than just a physical likeness - Y/N had somehow managed to capture her spirit, her essence.

Karina's eyes stung with tears as she looked up at Y/N. "It's beautiful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N smiled, looking pleased with herself. "I'm glad you like it," she said.

Karina's gaze dropped back down to the drawing, her heart swelling with emotion. This was more than just a gift - it was a connection, a bond between her and Y/N.

As she looked at the drawing, Karina felt like she was seeing herself through Y/N's eyes. And what she saw was a person who was worthy of love and acceptance, quiet personality and all.

Karina's eyes met Y/N's, and she smiled, feeling a sense of gratitude and affection. "Thank you," she said, her voice sincere.

Y/N smiled back, looking happy and relieved. "You're welcome," she said.

As they sat there, the drawing between them, Karina felt like she was on the verge of something new, something special. She didn't know what the future held, but she knew that she wanted to explore it with Y/N by her side.

—

Karina's mind was racing as she walked home from school. She couldn't stop thinking about Y/N's beautiful drawing, and she felt a surge of gratitude towards the quiet artist.

As she entered her house, Karina was greeted by her assistant, who handed her a stack of fan mail and scheduling commitments. But Karina's attention was elsewhere. She walked over to her desk, where she kept her own art supplies, and began to rummage through them.

She pulled out a set of paints, a canvas, and a few brushes. As she started to work on a new piece, Karina felt a sense of calm wash over her. This was her way of relaxing, of expressing herself.

As she painted, Karina's thoughts turned to Y/N. She wanted to create something special for her, something that would show her how much she appreciated the drawing.

Hours passed, and Karina lost herself in her art. Finally, she stepped back to admire her work. It was a beautiful portrait of Y/N, captured in a moment of quiet contemplation.

Karina smiled, feeling proud of herself. This was the perfect gift for Y/N. She carefully wrapped the canvas in paper, eager to present it to Y/N the next day.

The next morning, Karina arrived at school early, her gift in hand. She spotted Y/N sitting on the rooftop, her sketchbook open on her lap. Karina's heart skipped a beat as she approached Y/N, her gift at the ready.

"Hey," Karina said, trying to sound casual.

Y/N looked up, a hint of surprise in her eyes. "Hey."

Karina smiled, holding out her gift. "I made something for you."

Y/N's eyes widened as she took in the wrapped canvas. "What is it?" she asked, her voice curious.

Karina grinned mischievously. "Open it and see."

Y/N's fingers trembled slightly as she unwrapped the paper. And when she saw the portrait, her eyes went wide with wonder.

"It's beautiful," Y/N breathed.

Karina beamed with pride. "I'm glad you like it."

Y/N's gaze met Karina's, and for a moment, they just stared at each other. The air was charged with emotion, and Karina felt like she was drowning in Y/N's eyes.

As Karina and Y/N grew closer, Karina's fans began to take notice. At first, it was just a few curious glances, but soon, Y/N found herself surrounded by paparazzi and screaming fans.

Y/N was overwhelmed. She had always valued her anonymity, and the sudden attention was suffocating her. She tried to avoid Karina at school, but it was impossible.

Karina noticed Y/N's withdrawal and felt a pang of guilt. She knew that her celebrity status was the reason for Y/N's distress, and she didn't know how to fix it.

One day, as they sat together on the rooftop, Karina turned to Y/N with a concerned expression. "Hey, is everything okay? You've been avoiding me lately."

Y/N sighed, looking down at her feet. "It's just...I don't like all the attention. I like being invisible."

Karina nodded understandingly. "I get it. But I don't want to lose you because of my fans. Can't we find a way to make this work?"

Y/N looked up, her eyes searching Karina's face. "I don't know...I just feel like I'm losing myself in all of this."

Karina's heart went out to Y/N. She knew that she had to find a way to protect Y/N's anonymity, or risk losing her altogether.

As Y/N walked down the empty hallway, she couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. She had been trying to avoid Karina's fans all day, but it seemed like they were everywhere.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. She turned around, and her heart sank as she saw the mean popular girl, Victoria, and her minions approaching her.

Victoria's eyes narrowed as she looked at Y/N. "So, you're the one who's been getting all the attention from Karina," she sneered.

Y/N tried to stand her ground, but she could feel her legs trembling. "What do you want, Victoria?" she asked, trying to sound brave.

Victoria sneered. "I want you to stay away from Karina. She's way out of your league."

Y/N felt a surge of anger, but before she could respond, Victoria's minions closed in on her. They pushed her against the wall, and Y/N felt a wave of fear wash over her.

Victoria's eyes gleamed with malice as she leaned in close to Y/N. "You're just a nobody," she hissed. "And nobody gets to steal Karina's attention from me."

Y/N tried to defend herself, but Victoria's minions were too strong. They pushed her to the ground, and Y/N felt a wave of hopelessness wash over her.

As she lay there, helpless and alone, Y/N couldn't help but think that she was right back where she started. The trauma of her past was repeating itself, and she felt like she was all alone in the world.

—

As Karina walked into the infirmary, her eyes scanned the room until they landed on Y/N. She was sitting on a bed, her eyes fixed on the floor, and her face pale. Karina's heart skipped a beat as she took in the sight of Y/N's bruises.

She rushed over to Y/N's bedside, her concern and worry evident on her face. "I heard what happened to you, and I'm truly sorry about that," Karina said, her voice filled with empathy.

As she sat down on the edge of the bed, Karina reached out to take Y/N's hand, but Y/N just gave her a cold gaze. Her normal expression and personality seemed to be back in place, and Karina felt a pang of heartbreak.

Karina looked at Y/N, trying to understand why she was pushing her away. "Y/N, I...I just wanted to make sure you're okay," Karina said, her voice barely above a whisper.

But Y/N just kept staring at her, her eyes empty of emotion. Karina felt a lump form in her throat as she realized that Y/N didn't want to see her.

"I'll leave," Karina said, trying to sound calm. "It seems like you don't want to see me right now."

As Karina stood up to leave, Y/N's gaze never wavered. Karina felt a stinging sensation in her eyes as she turned and walked away, feeling heartbroken and hurt.

It was all her fault, Karina thought, as she walked out of the infirmary. Y/N had told her that she wanted to remain anonymous, but Karina's celebrity status had blown her cover.

Karina's feelings of guilt and regret quickly turned to anger as she realized who was responsible for Y/N's pain. Victoria. That mean, popular girl who thought she could bully Y/N just because she was getting attention from Karina.

Karina's eyes narrowed as she made a mental note to confront Victoria. She was going to make sure that Victoria paid for what she had done to Y/N.

Karina stormed out of the infirmary, determined to find Victoria and give her a piece of her mind. She marched through the hallways, her eyes scanning the crowds of students until she finally spotted Victoria and her minions hanging out by the lockers.

Karina's anger boiled over as she approached Victoria. "You're the one who hurt Y/N, aren't you?" Karina accused, her voice loud and clear.

Victoria looked up, a sneer on her face. "What's it to you, Karina?" she asked, her voice dripping with malice.

Karina's eyes flashed with anger. "You're going to regret what you did to Y/N," she said, her voice low and menacing.

Victoria just laughed, but Karina could see the faintest glimmer of fear in her eyes. Karina smiled, satisfied. She was going to make sure that Victoria paid for what she had done.

Karina's eyes narrowed as she confronted Victoria. "You're going to apologize to Y/N," she said, her voice firm and commanding.

Victoria sneered, her eyes flashing with defiance. "Why should I?" she asked, her voice dripping with malice.

Karina's face darkened. "Because you bullied her, and now you're going to make amends."

Victoria's ego wouldn't budge. "I'm not apologizing to anyone," she said, her voice rising.

Karina's anger boiled over. She took a step closer to Victoria, her eyes blazing. "You're going to regret saying that," she said, her voice low and menacing.

And with that, Karina began to bully Victoria. She mocked her, belittled her, and made her feel small and insignificant. Victoria tried to fight back, but Karina was relentless.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Victoria broke down. She collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

Karina's expression softened slightly. "Apologize to Y/N," she said, her voice firm but not unkind.

Victoria scrambled to her feet, her eyes red and puffy. She stumbled over to Y/N, who was watching the scene with a mixture of confusion and concern.

"I'm sorry," Victoria sobbed, throwing herself at Y/N's feet. "I was wrong to bully you. Please forgive me."

Y/N's eyes widened in shock. "What happened to you?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Victoria just sobbed, unable to speak.

Y/N's gaze turned to Karina, who was watching the scene with a mixture of satisfaction and guilt. "Karina, what did you do?" Y/N asked, her voice firm but curious.

Karina's expression was enigmatic. "I just made sure Victoria understood the importance of apologizing," she said, her voice neutral.

Y/N's eyes narrowed. "There's more to it than that," she said, her voice firm. "Tell me what really happened."

Karina sighed, knowing she couldn't keep the truth from Y/N. "I may have bullied Victoria a bit," she admitted, her voice sheepish.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "You bullied her?" she repeated, her voice incredulous.

Karina nodded, looking guilty. "I just wanted to make sure she apologized to you," she said, her voice defensive.

Y/N's expression was thoughtful. "I appreciate what you did, Karina," she said, her voice sincere. "But next time, can you just talk to me about it instead of taking matters into your own hands?"

Karina smiled, feeling relieved. "I promise," she said, her voice filled with conviction.

And with that, the two girls shared a warm smile, their bond stronger than ever.

—

Rachel had always been Karina's closest confidante, but lately, she'd noticed a change in Karina's behavior. Karina seemed distant, preoccupied, and Rachel couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with Y/N.

As she watched Karina and Y/N interact, Rachel's suspicions grew. She saw the way Karina looked at Y/N, the way she smiled at her, and the way she seemed to light up in her presence.

Rachel's instincts told her that Karina had developed feelings for Y/N, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it. On one hand, she was happy to see Karina happy, but on the other hand, she was worried about the potential consequences.

What if Y/N didn't feel the same way? What if their relationship became public and damaged Karina's reputation?

Rachel decided to meddle, to try and protect Karina from potentially getting hurt. She started by casually mentioning Y/N's name in conversation, trying to gauge Karina's reaction.

"Hey, Karina, how's Y/N doing?" Rachel asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Karina's eyes flickered, and she seemed to pause for a moment before responding. "She's doing okay, I guess," Karina said, her voice neutral.

Rachel's eyes narrowed. She knew Karina well enough to recognize the signs of evasion. "What's going on between you two?" Rachel asked, her voice probing.

Karina's expression turned guarded. "Nothing's going on, Rach. We're just friends."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. She didn't believe Karina for a second. "Save it, Karina," Rachel said, her voice dry. "I know you too well."

Karina's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Rachel, drop it, okay?"

But Rachel just smiled sweetly. "I'm just looking out for you, Karina. You know that."

Karina's expression turned skeptical, and Rachel knew she'd planted a seed of doubt in Karina's mind. But as she watched Karina walk away, Rachel couldn't help but wonder if she'd just made things worse.

Rachel was determined to prove that Y/N was using Karina for her fame. She started by snooping around Y/N's social media accounts, looking for any clues that might suggest Y/N was taking advantage of Karina's celebrity status.

As she scrolled through Y/N's posts, Rachel's eyes narrowed. She noticed that Y/N had been posting more frequently since she'd started hanging out with Karina, and that many of her posts seemed to be subtly referencing Karina's favorite music or movies.

Rachel's suspicions were aroused. She decided to do some more digging, and started by asking around to see if anyone else had noticed anything suspicious about Y/N's behavior.

She approached some of Karina's other friends, trying to casually bring up the topic of Y/N. But no matter how hard she tried, Rachel couldn't seem to get anyone to agree with her. They all seemed to think that Y/N was a great person, and that she and Karina made a wonderful couple.

Rachel was frustrated. She knew that she was right, and that Y/N was just using Karina for her fame. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't seem to prove it.

Just as Rachel was about to give up, she stumbled upon a cryptic message on Y/N's social media account. It was a post that seemed to be referencing Karina's latest basketball match, and Rachel's eyes narrowed as she read the words.

"Seems like someone is trying to ride the coattails of fame," Rachel muttered to herself, her mind racing with possibilities.

Meanwhile, Karina had been oblivious to Rachel's meddling. But when she stumbled upon Rachel snooping through Y/N's social media accounts, she was furious.

"Rachel, what are you doing?" Karina demanded, her voice low and angry.

Rachel looked up, startled. "I'm just trying to protect you, Karina," she said, her voice defensive.

"Protect me from what?" Karina asked, her eyes flashing with anger.

Rachel hesitated. "From Y/N. I think she's using you for your fame."

Karina's face darkened. "That's not true," she said, her voice firm. "Y/N is my friend, and I trust her."

The two friends argued back and forth, their voices growing louder and more heated. They stood in the hallway, attracting the attention of passing students.

"You're just blinded by your feelings for her," Rachel accused, her voice venomous.

"I'm not blinded," Karina shot back. "I know exactly what I'm doing. And I know that Y/N would never use me for my fame."

Rachel scoffed. "You're so naive, Karina. You think everyone is as nice and genuine as you are."

Karina's eyes flashed with anger. "I'm not naive," she said, her voice cold. "I just choose to see the best in people."

The argument continued, with neither side willing to back down. Finally, Karina stormed off, leaving Rachel looking upset and worried.

Y/N, who was sitting in the library studying, couldn't help but notice the tension between Karina and Rachel. She wondered what was going on, and felt a pang of concern.

Is everything okay between Karina and Rachel? Y/N wondered.

As she watched, Rachel got up and walked out of the hallway, looking upset. Y/N's curiosity was piqued. She decided to go and talk to Karina, to see if everything was okay.

Y/N got up and walked out of the library, looking for Karina. She finally found her sitting in the courtyard, looking upset.

"Hey," Y/N said, sitting down beside Karina. "What's going on?"

Karina looked up, her eyes flashing with anger. "It's just Rachel," she said, her voice cold. "She's being ridiculous."

Y/N's eyes narrowed. "What's going on with Rachel?" she asked, her voice concerned.

Karina sighed. "She thinks you're using me for my fame," she said, her voice bitter.

Y/N's eyes widened in shock. "What? That's not true," she said, her voice firm.

Karina smiled, her eyes softening. "I know it's not true," she said, her voice gentle. "I trust you, Y/N."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at Karina's words. She felt a rush of emotion, and suddenly realized that she had developed strong feelings for Karina.

—

As Y/N stepped into the school, she was immediately bombarded by whispers and giggles. She tried to ignore it, thinking it was just the usual morning chatter, but as she walked down the hallway, she couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off.

She noticed students glancing at her, smiling and nodding in her direction. Y/N's confusion deepened. What was going on?

Finally, she mustered up the courage to approach a student who was standing by her locker. "Hey, can I ask you something?" Y/N said, trying to sound casual.

The student turned to her, a bright smile on her face. "Of course, Y/N! Congratulations, by the way."

Y/N's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Congratulations for what?" she asked, her voice hesitant.

The student's smile grew wider. "For you and Karina, of course! I'm so happy for you both. You make a great couple."

Y/N's eyes widened in shock. Couple? What was she talking about?

And then it hit her. The rumors. The whispers. The giggles. It all made sense now.

Y/N felt a wave of panic wash over her. She didn't want to be involved in any dating rumors. She didn't want to be the subject of gossip and speculation.

She quickly excused herself and made her way to Karina's locker. Karina was standing there, chatting with her friends, but when she saw Y/N approaching, she smiled and walked over to her.

"Hey, what's up?" Karina asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Y/N took a deep breath. "Karina, can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked, trying to sound calm.

Karina nodded, and Y/N pulled her aside. "I need to ask you something," Y/N said, her voice low. "Can you please shut down the rumors about us?"

Karina's expression turned confused. "What rumors?" she asked, her voice innocent.

Y/N sighed. "The rumors about us dating. I don't want to be involved in any of that."

Karina's face fell, and for a moment, Y/N thought she saw a flash of hurt in her eyes. But then Karina nodded, a small smile on her face.

"Of course, Y/N. I'll take care of it."

Y/N nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. But as she turned to walk away, Karina called out to her.

"Y/N, wait."

Y/N turned back to Karina, who was looking at her with a concerned expression.

"Is everything okay?" Karina asked, her voice soft. "You seem a little distant."

Y/N hesitated. She didn't want to hurt Karina's feelings, but she needed some space to think about her own feelings.

"I'm fine, Karina," Y/N said, trying to sound casual. "I just need some time to myself, okay?"

Karina nodded, looking a little sad. "Okay, Y/N. If you need me, I'll be here."

As Y/N walked away, she could feel Karina's eyes on her. She knew Karina was sad, but she needed this time to herself.

Over the next few days, Y/N kept her distance from Karina. She stopped sitting with her at lunch, and she avoided her in the hallways.

Karina noticed, and she was sad about it. She missed Y/N's bright smile and her infectious laugh.

But Karina respected Y/N's boundaries. She gave her the space she needed, hoping that eventually, Y/N would come back to her.

As the days turned into weeks, Karina couldn't help but wonder what was going on in Y/N's mind. Was she okay? Was she still thinking about their conversation?

Karina's heart ached with longing. She missed Y/N, and she couldn't wait to see her again.

But for now, she would wait. She would give Y/N the space she needed, and hope that eventually, they could go back to the way things were before.

—

Karina and Y/N were both surprised when their teacher, Mrs. Johnson, assigned them to work together on a project. They had been avoiding each other for weeks, and the thought of spending time together again was daunting.

But Mrs. Johnson was insistent. "I think you two will make a great team," she said, smiling at them. "You both have unique skills and perspectives that will complement each other well."

Karina and Y/N exchanged a skeptical glance, but they knew they had no choice. They reluctantly agreed to work together, and Mrs. Johnson handed them a folder with the project details.

As they left the classroom, Karina turned to Y/N and asked, "So, where do you want to start?"

Y/N shrugged. "I don't know. What did Mrs. Johnson say the project was about again?"

Karina pulled out the folder and flipped through the pages. "It's a multimedia presentation about the impact of social media on society," she said, scanning the assignment sheet.

Y/N's eyes widened. "That sounds like a lot of work."

Karina nodded. "I know. But we can do it. We just need to divide up the tasks and work together."

Y/N hesitated, clearly unsure about working with Karina again. But Karina could see the faintest glimmer of interest in her eyes, and she knew that Y/N was intrigued by the project.

"Come on," Karina said, smiling at Y/N. "It'll be fun. We can work at my house, and I'll order some pizza."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly tempted by the offer. "Okay, fine," she said finally. "But just for the project."

Karina grinned, feeling a surge of excitement. "I'll pick you up at 3 pm tomorrow."

As they parted ways, Karina couldn't help but feel a sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this project would be the start of something new between her and Y/N.

The next day, Karina pulled up to Y/N's house in her sleek black car. Y/N was waiting outside, looking adorable in a pair of ripped jeans and a faded t-shirt.

"Hey," Y/N said, sliding into the passenger seat.

Karina smiled, feeling a flutter in her chest. "Hey."

As they drove to Karina's house, the tension between them was palpable. But Karina was determined to keep things light and friendly, at least for now.

When they arrived at Karina's house, they settled in at the kitchen table, surrounded by laptops, notebooks, and snacks. Karina ordered some pizza, and they spent the next few hours brainstorming ideas and working on their presentation.

As the sun began to set, Karina realized that she was having more fun than she'd had in weeks. Y/N was laughing and joking with her, and for a moment, it felt like old times.

But as the night wore on, Karina couldn't shake the feeling that Y/N was still holding back. She seemed hesitant to meet Karina's eye, and her smiles were fleeting.

Karina wondered what was going on in Y/N's mind. Was she still unsure about her feelings? Was she afraid of getting hurt again?

As they packed up their things and prepared to part ways, Karina felt a pang of disappointment. She didn't want the night to end, didn't want to lose the connection they'd reestablished.

"Thanks for tonight," Y/N said, smiling at Karina.

Karina smiled back, feeling a sense of hope. "No problem. I'll pick you up tomorrow at 3 pm again."

Y/N nodded, and Karina walked her to the door. As they said their goodbyes, Karina felt a spark of electricity as their hands touched.

It was a small moment, but it gave Karina the courage to keep trying. She knew that she still had a long way to go to win Y/N back, but she was willing to do whatever it took.

As she watched Y/N walk away, Karina felt a sense of determination. She was going to make this project count, and she was going to win Y/N's heart back, no matter what it took.

As they finished their project, Karina and Y/N felt a sense of pride and accomplishment. They had worked tirelessly to create a stunning multimedia presentation, and it had paid off.

"I'm so glad we got to work together on this," Y/N said, smiling at Karina.

Karina's heart skipped a beat as she met Y/N's gaze. She had been wanting to tell Y/N how she felt for weeks, but she had been too afraid.

"I'm glad too," Karina said, trying to sound casual. "We make a great team."

Y/N nodded, and they both sat back to admire their handiwork. The presentation was impressive, with sleek graphics and smooth transitions.

As they sat there, Karina couldn't help but steal glances at Y/N. She was beautiful, with her long hair and bright smile. And she was smart and talented, too.

Karina felt her heart fluttering in her chest. She knew she had to tell Y/N how she felt, but she was scared. What if Y/N didn't feel the same way?

As they packed up their things and prepared to leave, Karina realized that she couldn't let the moment slip away. She had to tell Y/N how she felt, no matter how scared she was.

"Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute?" Karina asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N looked at her curiously, but she nodded. "Of course, Karina. What's up?"

Karina took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, but she knew she had to be brave.

"Y/N, from the moment I met you, I knew that you were someone special," Karina said, her voice trembling with emotion. "I was drawn to your kindness, your intelligence, and your beauty. And as we worked together on this project, I realized that my feelings for you went far beyond friendship."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, and she looked at Karina with a mixture of shock and curiosity.

"I know that I may have scared you off before," Karina continued, her voice filled with regret. "But I want you to know that my feelings for you are real. And I was wondering if maybe, just maybe, you feel the same way."

The room was silent, the only sound the quiet hum of the computers. Y/N's eyes were fixed on Karina's, and for a moment, Karina thought she saw a glimmer of reciprocation.

But then Y/N looked away, her face flushing with embarrassment. "Karina, I...I don't know what to say," she stammered.

Karina's heart sank, but she refused to give up. She took a step closer to Y/N, her eyes locked on hers.

"You don't have to say anything, Y/N," Karina said, her voice soft. "Just know that my feelings for you are real. And I'll be here, waiting for you, whenever you're ready."

Y/N looked up at Karina, her eyes searching hers. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them palpable.

Then Y/N looked away, her face still flushed with embarrassment. "I need some time to think, Karina," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Karina nodded, feeling a sense of disappointment. But she also felt a sense of hope. Y/N hadn't rejected her outright, and that was all that mattered.

"I understand, Y/N," Karina said, her voice soft. "Take all the time you need. I'll be here, waiting for you."

As they parted ways, Karina couldn't help but feel a sense of uncertainty. Would Y/N ever feel the same way? Or would Karina be left waiting forever?

But one thing was for sure: Karina had confessed her feelings, and now all she could do was wait and see how Y/N would respond.

—

Y/N's eyes searched Karina's face, looking for any sign of insincerity. She had been hurt before, and she wasn't about to let her guard down again without being sure.

"Karina, I need to ask you something," Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Karina's eyes locked onto hers, filled with a deep sincerity. "Anything, Y/N. What is it?"

Y/N took a deep breath. "Is this...is this just a publicity stunt? Are you just doing this to get attention or boost your image?"

Karina's face fell, and for a moment, Y/N thought she saw a flash of hurt in her eyes. But then Karina's expression softened, and she reached out to take Y/N's hand.

"Y/N, I promise you, this has nothing to do with publicity or image," Karina said, her voice filled with conviction. "My feelings for you are real. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and I wouldn't dare cheapen them by using them for publicity."

Y/N's eyes searched Karina's face, looking for any sign of deception. But all she saw was sincerity and honesty.

"Okay," Y/N said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "I believe you."

Karina's face lit up with a radiant smile, and she leaned in close to Y/N. "Thank you, Y/N," she whispered, her breath tickling Y/N's ear. "Thank you for believing me."

As they stood there, Y/N felt a spark of electricity run through her body. She knew that she was taking a risk, but she couldn't help the way she felt.

Karina's eyes locked onto hers, filled with a deep longing. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as Karina leaned in closer, her lips brushing against Y/N's in a soft, tender kiss.

The world around them melted away, leaving only the two of them, lost in the magic of their first kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of promises and possibilities, of hopes and dreams.

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, Y/N knew that she had made the right decision. She had taken a chance on Karina, and it had paid off in the most wonderful way.

Their kiss deepened, becoming more passionate and intense. Y/N felt like she was melting into Karina's arms, becoming one with her.

As they finally pulled away from each other, gasping for air, Y/N smiled up at Karina. "I'm so glad I took a chance on you," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

Karina's eyes sparkled with happiness, and she leaned in to kiss Y/N again. "I'm glad too," she whispered, her lips brushing against Y/N's. "I'm glad too."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, Y/N knew that this was just the beginning of their love story. And she couldn't wait to see what the future held for them.

—

Y/N was determined to teach Karina how to bake cookies. She had been baking for years, and she loved the way the sweet aroma filled the kitchen.

Karina, on the other hand, was a disaster waiting to happen. She was clumsy and accident-prone, and Y/N had visions of flour covering every inch of the kitchen.

But Y/N was determined to make it work. She gathered all the ingredients and equipment, and stood patiently as Karina measured out the flour.

As soon as Karina started mixing the dough, Y/N knew they were in trouble. Karina was using a stand mixer, but she had no idea how to control it. The mixer started to spin out of control, covering Karina in a cloud of flour.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "Karina, stop! You're going to cover the entire kitchen in flour!" she exclaimed.

Karina looked up, her face covered in a fine layer of powder. "I'm sorry! I don't know what's happening!" she cried, laughing.

Y/N rushed over to help Karina, and together they managed to wrestle the mixer to the ground. The kitchen was a disaster, but they had managed to salvage the dough.

As they slid the cookies into the oven, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Despite the chaos, they had managed to make something beautiful.

Twenty minutes later, the cookies were done. Y/N and Karina pulled them out of the oven, and the aroma of freshly baked cookies filled the air.

They sat down at the kitchen table, surrounded by the chaos of their baking disaster. But as they took their first bites of the cookies, all was forgiven.

The cookies were perfect - chewy on the inside and crispy on the outside. Y/N and Karina sat there, munching on cookies and laughing together.

As they ate, they started to get sleepy. The warmth of the kitchen, combined with the comfort of each other's company, was too much to resist.

Before long, they were both leaning on each other, their heads nodding forward. The cookies were forgotten, left to cool on the kitchen counter.

As they drifted off to sleep, Y/N felt a sense of peace wash over her. She was exactly where she was meant to be - surrounded by the chaos of the kitchen, and the love of her life.

The next thing Y/N knew, she was waking up to the sound of Karina's gentle snores. They were still sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by the remnants of their baking disaster.

Y/N smiled, feeling a sense of happiness wash over her. She leaned over and gently kissed Karina's forehead, trying not to wake her.

As she pulled back, Karina's eyes flickered open. She looked up at Y/N, a sleepy smile on her face.

"Hey," Karina whispered, her voice husky with sleep.

Y/N smiled back, feeling her heart skip a beat. "Hey," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

They sat there for a moment, just looking at each other. The kitchen was still a mess, but they didn't care. They were happy, and that's all that mattered.

[beautifulpaprika]

A Beast and a Bracelet (m)

pairing: fem!reader x beast!jk

warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, in the forest!

summary: You tried saving someone ... again. However, this group is large and bloodthirsty, and trying to lose them in a forest isn't working. Yet, when you find a cave, it seems to be your saving grace. Not because of what's in it, but who's in it.

word count: 8.7k

Branch after branch hits me in the face- my hair getting caught in the branches more than once as I run from the group of men after me. 

“Stay out of the business of men, Y/N,” my father always told me. Of course, when I spotted the ready-to-beat-a-man in front of his children, I couldn’t sit back and chug a pint. I had nothing better to do. I didn’t think through the part where there were three of them and one of me. 

The plan was running into the forest where the monster stories came from- stories of missing people and blood trails - in hopes they would be too afraid, but by the footfalls following close behind, I can safely determine they are not as fearful as I am of the forest. 

I have no navigation in the pitch black and wood. My lungs feel ready to give up on me, and the noises I hear on my left sound a lot like something ready to pounce on me. But I keep running. 

“Come on, brave one! You wanna jump in to our business? We can do this right now!” One of the men calls from behind me. I’m astounded they have the air to be able to catch up and yell at the same time. 

I attempt a look behind me, my eyes glancing at a small light catching up. Panic rises in me and boils over, tears welling in my eyes, making finding safety even more difficult. 

There’s a dark mass ahead- a cave surrounded by weeds and vines. Pictures of monsters with sharp teeth and blood dribbling down their chin appear in my mind. 

“Get her!” one man calls out. They’re on my tail and I have to make a decision. 

One foot in front of the other until it’s pitch black in the cave. My footsteps echo off of the cave wall and I almost slip in the mud. The sound of splashing water urges me to turn back. Something is in here, and it’s not a bunny. 

I stick close to the wall, unmoving.

Unfortunately for me, a light shines in the cave. 

“There you are,” the one in front says. They all have a hungry look in their eyes that tells me everything I need to know about their intentions.

My eyes sting from the tears welling. I should’ve listened to my father. I should’ve kept to myself. 

The frontman grabs my arm, but I scream when his touch is gone as soon as it’s there. 

Growling mixing with agonizing screams draws my attention. The light is suddenly gone -it’s pitch black and I hear the nervous panting of the other two men. 

The screaming stops and my breath catches, not wanting the creature to hear me. It’s not a second longer when the screams start up and the crunching of bones and ripping and tearing of skin join it. 

The gurgle from the second man doesn’t stop before the third one follows. The screams and noises last for a few moments longer. When it stops, I close my eyes. I’m preparing for the death that is to come, asking any forces out there to grant a quick death and for my father to never have to find me. 

A huff in front of my face pushes my hair from my face. 

I hate the pathetic whimper I give to the creature. 

Its breathing is heavy and similar to that of a dog. 

“I’m sorry I intruded,” I whine, “I didn’t know where else to go,” I whisper. It feels useless to ask for mercy from a creature that most likely can’t understand me. 

However, it doesn’t seem as impossible as I thought when the huffing retreats from me. The hot air is gone, and I’m out of breath when I hear a splashing again- just like the one I heard when I came in.

I squint my eyes, trying to see rather than hear. 

There’s a new panting sound coupled with coughing and spitting, but it sounds human. Nothing like the creature growling deep while it tore men to pieces. 

Feet slap the wet floor, and I continue to hold my breath, not wanting to make any sudden movements. 

“I know you’re there,” a voice calls. It doesn’t sound menacing or annoyed- more matter-of-fact than anything. Rustling sounds move from my right side to across from me. 

A light appears, causing me to cover my eyes with my arm to adjust to the sudden brightness. 

“A ‘thank you’ would have been nice,” the same voice is right in front of me now. I slowly lower my arm, not wanting to be bombarded by light again. 

My eyes glide up to be met with a man’s curious gaze. The light shows off his raised eyebrows and glistening chest. His dark hair sticks to the sides of his face. He must have been the one who was making all the water sounds. I come back down, looking past his legs to the three bodies behind him. I gasp at their state. Torn limbs, popping eyes, frozen faces of shock. 

“Oh, that,” he grimaces. “That is quite the mess I’ll have to clean,” he mumbles. 

“Who are you?” I look back at him. “Did you do that? How-“

”None of these words sound like appreciation,” he crouches down, his head tilting. “Should I have let them have their way with you?” He asks. I look past him again, a rage boiling inside men from the thought of those torn-up hands being on me instead. I shake my head. 

“I’m grateful,” my voice is low. 

“Good enough for now,” he gets up again, moving back to the space across from me. “You can go,” he announces and I’m caught off guard by it. 

That’s it? 

He sets the light down as I stare in amazement. He’s already heaving one body over his shoulder without a struggle.

I slap myself for gawking at his back muscles and the marred skin as he takes one body and starts to carry it out. 

The half-naked man stops in his tracks and slowly turns to me. 

“You can leave at any time, bunny.” I have to stop myself from flinching at the pet name. 

My mind becomes dizzy at the choices of staying or going. This man is new, a mystery, and I can’t help but be curious. He’s the one who saved me and I’m supposed to walk out as if nothing happened? 

“I’d like to help,” before he can reject my offer, I’m picking up a ripped-off arm and a toe tossed away. Nausea rises in my body up to my throat, but I hold it back before I make even more of a mess. 

I’m ready to follow the man out, but his body is fully turned to me now, the body still on his shoulder. I try avoiding his stare by walking past him, but he blocks me. 

His eyes scan me from top to bottom. I shiver under his wandering eyes. 

“What are you doing?”

”It’s the least I could do for intruding your. . . space,” I refer to the cave. “And it’s obvious you saved me from imminent death . . . And worse,” I gulp, and his eyes follow the movement in my throat. 

I wait for him to say anything or reject my offer, but he doesn’t. He turns, the dead expression of the man on his shoulders flinging towards me. I gag at the wounds down his face. 

“If you’re going to do that the whole way, I suggest you go home instead,” he tells me. 

I shake my head, despite the fact that he can’t see me. 

We trek out into the forest, carrying our bodies (and body parts). The lamp attached to his pants lights the way, but I can’t help looking at the way it drags his pants down his hips a tad. His skin is dry now and I notice the scars down his back more easily. 

“You’ll need to clean up afterward,” he says before throwing the body in an empty spot between some trees. “Going home from this forest will have questions thrown at you enough, but coming back with blood? You won’t survive,” he explains. 

I throw the hand and toe on the spot. 

“You sound like you speak from experience,” it’s as if I have a death wish making such a suggestion, but he laughs it off. Maybe I’m not incorrect. After all, there’s a reason he lives in the cave. 

He doesn’t say another word but turns to return to the cave. 

“How long have you been out here?” I try to break the silence. He gives me a look. “You have a made bed and some supplies in that cave of yours, your hair is-” he gives me another look and I stop talking. The hair must be a sensitive topic.

“It's been a few years. . .” 

The shock in my body slows my walking down. Years? 

“Did you run away from home?” 

“Something like that,” he shrugs. 

I don't ask any more questions for fear of seeming more intrusive than I already am.

“Where is your pond of water?” I ask, trying to fling some of the blood on my fingers. 

He freezes at the question. 

“You have one. I heard it,” I walk further into the darkness, hoping to find the small body of water. 

I notice something glistening and take a step towards it. 

But then my feet lose their balance and my back is against the wall. Air leaves my lungs when the man’s face crowds mine, his hands caging me on both sides. 

“Don’t. Touch. That. Water,” he’s panting and I can only see the left side of his face. The anger and anxiety cinching every feature.

I notice the splotch of blood sitting on his eyebrow and lick my finger to rub it off.

He flinches when my finger touches him, but his eyebrow doesn’t relax. 

“I won’t touch it,” I promise. “I apologize,” I plea that he accepts the apology- my life being at risk and whatnot. 

“You don’t owe me anything. Go home,” he breaks away from me turning to gather the next body. 

“How do I know they won’t come for you? That you’ll be okay?” He freezes on the spot again. “I want to help!” I confess. I don’t want to prove my father right. Not about not being able to defend myself and not about being useless to this world. 

He doesn't say a word but looks back at the body left torn on the ground. It's enough to answer my question. 

“I think I'll be alright,” he says. He makes his way out of the cave and I follow after him. 

“There are more guys then where that came from, I can promise you that! They’ll come looking,” I try. I try to convince him tha t we need each other. My hope is that he says yes and lets me figure out the mystery that he is. 

“I handled three and I’ll handle more,” he grunts as he throws the body into the spot. 

“How do you know people won’t find this?” I gesture to the pile of limbs. 

“It’s still night. The monsters will take care of it. Monsters worse than me,” he says with a  low voice, staring directly at me. The words do as he intended. With a shiver running down my spine, I’m officially afraid. 

“I’ll go home,” I tell him, turning away ready to follow the tracks home. 

“You do that,” he makes his way back to the cave. 

“I‘ll be back tomorrow!” I call. 

“No, you won’t!” He calls back before disappearing into the dark. 

***

I keep my promise to return. This time I bring bread and treats with me, hoping something sweet is enough to tame the beast. I’m not sure what kind of beast he really is, but what does it matter if he doesn’t hurt me?

It’s clear I haven’t learned my lesson last night by getting into “men’s business”. This man is only half man, so it counts. I suppose. 

A leaf crunches behind me, and I swivel to confront whoever’s following me, but Im only met with the sight of a misty forest wind moving through grass and dirt. 

“Y-yeah! You better not fuck with me!” I cringe at my voice wavering on the swear word. 

“You really spooked them away, bunny,” a deep chuckle sounds behind me. 

I swirl to look at the scarred man, a smirk spreading across his face. He approaches me casually, like any man on the street would- except he has no shirt, and his hair is still tousled, and his pants are ripped in different areas. 

“Your anxiety is palpable,” he says, tilting his head at me, while tapping a finger top my chin. 

“I’m not scared of anything,” I lie. 

“I know your idea here is to be brave, but you can’t be brave if you have nothing to fear,” his hand taps the sack hanging in my hand. “What’s this?” he asks. 

I hold the bag to him, the smell of fresh bread and cake wafting around us. 

“For you,” I push it towards him as his eyebrow lifts. “I don’t have any money, but my father and I can bake pretty well,” I shove it towards him again, but he continue s to stare at me. “Yes. It’s a bribe, but I’d like to show you that this team,” I point to him and myself, “can work out pretty well.”

“And why do you want to be a team?” he asks, his arms crossing over his chest, his biceps protruding. I gulp at them, then catch myself looking back at the man. The smirk tells me he noticed me checking him out. 

“I’d like to do more in town, but with the risk of being killed, I can’t do it as much as I’d like. I want your help. For protection,” I propose. I realize the more I talk, the more my body caves in. I quickly adjust to lift my chin and he chuckles at me. 

His eyes narrow, then surprise. I try to process the shock on his face.

“You-” his arms uncross and I wait for his words. 

“What?” I ask. His eyes cut deep into mine and I suddenly feel awkward in my spot. 

He relaxes again, back to his normal composure. “You’ve got a deal,” he announces. Before I can ask him what that was, he’s already turning away and heading in the opposite direction. I try to make out some of the shapes in his back.

I quickly avert my eyes when he looks back at me and start to follow him.

“I brought some other things as well,” I show the bag in my other hand. “Another peace offering, but also . . . basic hygiene,” I shake the bag in excitement. The girls in town never let me braid their hair, but it’s alright. There’s someone who needs my services more anyway. 

He doesn’t say much, only continues to walk and even cleans sticks and rocks from the ground. 

“It’s a bit useless to clean the forest isn’t it?” I ask. 

“It’s meant to be a path, so that you can easily find your way back and forth,” his words catch me off guard. It’s a small gesture, but it’s nice to know he’s keeping me in mind when he does. 

I gawk at him for a few moments longer until the noise of running water breaks me out of the trance. We come up on a small creek dug into the ground. This is no cave. 

“I didn’t see this last night,” I whisper. 

“We didn’t come here last night,” he points out. I give him a questioning look, for him to answer in a shrug, “You said you have a few things for hygiene and a couple of treats - let’s have a picnic, bunny,” I shake my head at the nickname. 

“Why do you call me that?”

“I’m big. You're small. I thought that was obvious,” he raises a branch for me and I pass through. 

“It wasn’t that obvi-”

“Where did you say you came from?” he suddenly asks from behind me. 

“I come from the town just outside of here,” I tell him, turning to face him. He hums in answer. “Have you ever been there? It’s right outside of this forest,” his face scrunches, contemplating. 

“I’m from the cave, that’s it. Now that we’ve gotten introductions out of the way-” he pulls the torn-up pants down his legs and I gasp at the muscles on him. He could crush a man’s head with those thighs. “Let’s get to that wash,” he says, a hint of excitement touching his tone. 

He steps down, slowly, into the water.  

I put a fingertip in the water. I hiss at the cold, but he seems entirely unphased. He seems to enjoy it if anything. 

I admire the way he’s able to bask in the cold water. 

“Alright, what’s next, bunny? Where’s the soap at?” he calls. 

“How do you know about soap?” I had assumed he never joined society. I gather my bag, bringing out soap, sponge, a hairbrush, and a pair of nail clippers. I grab the hairbrush first, waving him over.

“I haven’t always been out here,” he explains, slowly making his way towards me. His back faces me, and despite him being taller than me, I still can’t reach him at a comfortable position. 

“Can you just . . . come a little closer?” I reach again, only able to reach so far without falling into the water. 

He leans backwards, not able to step back without slipping on the tilted creek floor. I reach for his hair, and I’m able to brush it, but the angle is uncomfortable. I try to brush the strands lower, by his neck, but my arms quickly tire. 

“Hold on- Just-” I say, trying to fix my posture. 

His head turns to give me a side-eye, and I watch him roll his eyes. 

“I know something that might help,” he gestures to me to lean over just a bit more. I try my best to have my body hover over the water without falling in. 

The man leans over to grab me underneath my arms - my scream muffled by the water rushing into my mouth. My feet are able to reach the ground and thrust me to the surface. 

My ears fill with the sound of his laughter once they clear out. I turn to him slowly, the cold water causing my eyes to twitch and my body to shiver . . . Or is that the anger? 

“What is wrong with you!” I swear the birds get spooked at my yelling. “I am trying to help.”

“You're trying to butter me up. I already said I would do what you asked, there’s no need to cater to me any more,” his arms reach up to brush his hair back, but his fingers catch easily in the knots. “I brush with my fingers,” he says, proudly. 

Despite my anger, I draw closer to him, his breathing slowing as he looks down at me. 

“While brushing with fingers could work . . .” I start. I grab his arm and pull him to where his back is facing me again. I try not to stare at the obvious scars in different sizes and shapes running down his back. “It’s not going to do all the work. Trust me, the brush will make you feel lighter.” The weight of my clothing drags me down a smidge but I ignore it. I start at the bottom of his long, dark strands. I expect to hear a ‘hiss’ or feel a flinch on some of the knots, but he doesn’t. He actually seems relaxed. His head leans back and a hum occasionally sounds from him. 

I pour more water on his head, following the line down his spine until it meets the water at his waist. I admire hsi figure, dragging a finger down the same path as the water, sometimes detouring to some of the scars. 

I kick myself out of the trance, and when I look back up to focus on the hair again, his head is already slightly turned to look at me. 

“Um, I’m sorry. I got curious,” I admit. 

“About?”

“What your skin would feel like. I don’t think I’ve seen so many scars,” I say. His eyebrows pinch. “I don’t mean that as a bad thing. It’s new. And intriguing. And you should tell me about them,” I add a smile, hoping it’s enough to convince him. 

“You ask for a lot. I’ve saved your life, isn’t that enough from me? If anything I should be asking you for more,” his arms cross. I snort at how pouty it makes him look. 

“Well, I’m brushing your hair aren’t I? You know how many other men’s hair I’ve brushed?” 

He turns in genuine interest. 

“No one. No other man’s hair! And!” I reach for the bag sitting on the edge of the creek, ready to fall in. I dig through the bag, revealing another gift - a bar of lavender soap. “How many people have I given soap to? Zero,” I push it towards him, the bar leaving white residue on my fingers. 

He reluctantly takes it, eyeing it, then me, then it. 

“I’m not sure this is the compliment you-”

“Ungratefulness is not very becoming of you,” I interrupt. 

His eyes peer up at me from under his eyelashes. “I’m still a bit sore, you know, from saving your life,” he says. I nod in understanding. “I’ll need help using this,” he hands me the bar. 

I freeze my hands from playing with the water. I scan his face for any sign of joking, but he continues to hold it to me. 

I take it, and he steps closer immediately, his body towering over mine. My attempt at not appearing nervous doesn’t work. 

“I’ll do it if you can answer one question,” I tell him. He rolls his eyes but agrees. “Why is the water in the cave off-limits but the creek isn’t?” He’s initially annoyed by the question, but I watch him relax.

“It changes me. It’s the reason I was able to become the monster that helped you,” he flinches when I start to lather him in soap. Creek water isn’t the cleanest, but it’s all I have to make the soap softer. “The reason I couldn’t let you go in it is because it’s not something you easily come out of,”he explains. My hand trails over his abdomen and up his sides, he inhales sharply, but recovers quickly. 

“What exactly do you turn into?” 

“Half human, half dog, half beast. There are too many ways to describe it. It doesn’t help that at first you aren’t aware that you’re something else. It takes a couple of tries to not lose your mind. Some have succumbed to the madness, and others take it, go into town, cause chaos, and get themselves killed.” His eyes are distant as he talks. There’s something that tells me he is talking from experience. “It doesn’t help that when I take that form of the beast, it drains my energy. My human energy isn’t meant for a big body with that strength. It’s draining.” 

“Are you the only one now, besides me, who knows about it?” I reach his neck, noticing a big difference in cleanliness. 

He nods in answer. 

“You haven’t lost your mind, though. Why are you different?” he shrugs at my question. 

“I had a good mentor, at first,” his eyes turn down, “I also had a lot of motivation, I guess,” he holds his arms forward for me to wash. 

“What was your motivation?” 

He waits - the crickets nearby and the trees still. 

“You’ve asked much more than one question now. The focus should be on getting this dirt off of me,” he wades over to the edge. “You should get my legs too,” he lifts one onto the wall and I screw my eyes shut, squealing- the sound of his laughter a massage to my brain.

***

The next day it’s raining. I cover myself with the sack that I brought for Jungkook (a name I learned while I was soaping his legs - truly a heartwarming moment.) This time it has a few shirts I stole from my father. 

Jungkook told me I shouldn’t come back again at the risk of someone catching onto the fact that I was going into the forest too often. Judging by the trees surrounding me, I didn’t listen. I’ve checked my surroundings a million times before coming in. 

A noise behind me makes me jump, but I start humming to soothe the nerves. I brought Jungkook a small cupcake with a bunny iced on the top. It’s a bit wet now from the rain, but I’m almost certain he’ll still like it. 

After our day at the creek yesterday, I feel like he knows me better than anyone. The only thing I haven’t figured out is why he decides to stay out here instead of joining the rest of society. Well, when I truly think about it, I guess I can understand why he wouldn’t want to. 

I release a breath when I arrive at the cave, grateful that I didn’t forget where it is. 

“Jungkook?” I call as I walk in. My lantern is able to light up the slick walls. There’s running and shuffling until I approach him. He’s sitting criss-cross on the ground on a sheet, wide-eyed and open mouthed. “Jungkook? What are you doing?” I slowly approach him. 

“Nothing. Sitting here,” he says it too quickly to believe him. 

“What do you have behind you?”

“What’s that in your hand?” he nods to the cupcake I’m holding- the picture of the bunny looks a bit sad now. I don’t miss the way he decided to change the subject, but I can’t be bothered to bring it back up. He’ll have to move eventually. 

“It was a cupcake,” I step closer and sit in front of him, he tenses a bit, “but the rain kind of . . .” I show it to him. He looks at it and I think I see a smile spreading across his face. I have to check twice that it’s not a teasing smile, but what I thought was true. He’s looking at it fondly.

He reaches for it, releasing whatever’s behind him. 

“Thanks, Bunny,” he says. He doesn’t eat it but sets it beside him instead. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s behind you now?” I ask. He’s right back to being tense. His mouth opens and closes, resembling a fish, and before he can say anything else, a voice yells out. We freeze and look out the mouth of the cave. 

“Where the fuck did she go?” a man yells out again. Even with the rain, I can hear him clearly, meaning he’s too close. “Keep going! That bitch definitely had something to do with their disappearance!” he announces. 

They know. They must be friends of those men’s whose bodies we dumped - and they followed me here. 

Shit. How many times do I have to tell myself that I should have listened?

“Jungkook . . .” I whisper, but he’s already standing when I turn. 

“Stay here. I’ll take care of it,” he demands. The gentle Jungkook who accepted my soggy cupcake is gone - replaced with a Jungkook who looks ready to drown someone in the very creek water we swam in. 

“I’ll come with you,” I get ready to stand.

“Y/N . . . I appreciate it, but please don’t. It was always me who was supposed to take care of it. I’d feel a lot better if you stayed here,” with that, he jumps in the water. Meanwhile, I’m still caught up in how he knew my name. Jungkook may have fessed up his own, but I never did the same. 

His beast rushes out of the water and I have no time to take a glance at him. His gray skin is the only thing I spot paired with a panting noise as he runs out. 

Waiting in the cave for a mere three seconds is already torture. The waiting is agony especially when I can’t hear anything and not knowing how many followed me into the forest. 

I occupy myself by looking around the cave, not that there’s much to look at. I spot the thing Jungkook was holding behind his back. It looks like a bracelet but made with flowers and grass. I smile at it. Jungkook hiding his soft side makes the bracelet all the more special. 

A roar yanks my attention away. Yelling and screams rise above the rain from multiple people- more than three. I can’t just sit here. I can’t. 

The rain drops are cool against my skin and I pick up a long stick as I run in the direction of the chaos. 

My confidence in being able to help is not high, but my motivation is. There’s a pained whimper this time from Jungkook. My feet move faster now. It doesn’t matter if they can hear me coming to them as long as I’m able to get there- as long as he isn’t alone. 

A choked sound comes from below me. One of the men Jungkook dealt with reaches out with the one arm he has left. His mouth forms the words “Help me,” but I look away before he can say anything else.

Leaves crunching and sounds of a struggle lead me to a clearing. Bodies are scattered in every part of the clearing, unmoving. There are a few bodies beyond the trees as well. This was much more than the three men Jungkook dealt with in the cave. 

The beast himself sits in the middle. His skin is gray and slimy with hair in very few places. This form is indeed much bigger than the Jungkook I know.

 I quickly approach without saying a word and examine his condition. He’s lying on his side, his breathing shallow. There are a few scratches on his sides and a gash down his face. He’s exhausted and I think back to when he said the beast form is not meant for him to stay in for a long time. His body exhausts easily and if he used a majority of it on fighting these men- 

Damn it. I should’ve asked what happens when that energy is spent. Of all the times I have been nosy in my life and I couldn’t do it in such a crucial moment. 

Jungkook’s beast eye peers up at me and huffs. I ignore the scolding and focus on how I’m going to help him. The pond is too big to be brought to him, so I’m going to have to bring him to it. I don’t let the thought of “How?” linger in my mind too long before I’m picking up his legs and dragging him with as much force as I can bear. 

His groan is quiet behind me. 

“Don’t speak! Don’t do anything!” I yell. I avoid one or two bodies. I haven’t made it far and my arms and back are aching. 

“Use your legs, or you’ll do some damage to your back,” Father’s words echo in my mind. He’s told me so many wise things and yet I can never listen. It’s how I’m in this predicament in the first place. It’s the reason Jungkook is dying. 

My throat closes as tears well up in my eyes. 

“I’m not letting you die.” 

***

Jungkook is practically on the brink of death when I dump him in the pool of water. The lantern lights the red stringing through the water and I cross my fingers that he doesn’t drown. 

“Please, please, please,” I whisper, screwing my eyes shut, a tear falling as a result. “You’re my only friend, Jungkook. . .” I whisper. “Don’t leave.” 

As soon as the words escape me, a head surfaces above the water. I’m on my knees in an instance reaching for him. He’s still very heavy when I pull him in, but nothing compared to when he was the beast. 

“You’re okay!” I wrap my arm around his neck and pull him in. He hugs me back for only a second before I feel his body limp and fall. “Jungkook? Jungkook!” I call for him, but his breathing is weak. I pull him to where his sheet is, laying him gently. His eyes close and he enters sleep. I notice a bit of blood dripping down his face and sides from the battle.

I make sure his breathing is okay then leave him to rush back into town on a mission to take anything that could save him.

***

It’s the second day since Jungkook was attacked and it’s raining again. He’s woken up a few times for water, but nothing else. The bandages on his waist glare at me as I sit on the opposite side of the cave, humming a song, playing with the bracelet he has yet to finish. 

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” his voice pipes up. I rush to him, a cup of water in hand from the creek. “I’d thought at least by now-” I put a finger to his lips- the rasp of his voice anxiety inducing. 

“You need to save your energy. We can talk when you’re back to being normal,” I tip the cup into his mouth, and he takes it. When I’m done, he sits up despite my protests. 

“I thought you liked the fact I wasn’t normal,” he whispers, his eyes off in the distance. I ignore the words seeing as that’s not my priority. “And I’m not talking about now. I’m talking about back then,” he meets my eyes now, then glides down to the bracelet I’m wearing. I’m ready to question what he means when I look at the bracelet. 

It’s like a key now. A key to a memory I put away a long time ago. 

***

11 years ago

“Keep crying. ‘S not like there’s anyone who’s gonna help you,” the blonde kid, nicknamed Jester, hits the boy again and I flinch behind the wall. “Where’s your parents?” Kicks him again and gestures for his friend to join in - and he does. 

I can’t watch this anymore. 

“Stop fucking with me-” before Jester can kick him again, I jump in, putting my body in front of the one who’s on the ground. 

“What is wrong with you two!” I yell out. 

“Mind your business, Y/N!” he tries to push me but I won’t budge. Finally, my height does something other than be the butt of every joke in town. Father always said I was an early bloomer and that my height could be an advantage. I didn’t see that until now. 

“Fuck you!” I spit at him, surprised at my own cursing. If he was angry before, he’s enraged now. His fist reels back, and I see it coming, but the boy behind me rushes him, tackling Jester. His friend looks to me. Before he can make any moves, I rush up to him and swing my leg up to his middle, hitting my target right between the legs. 

“Run!” I yell. With one down we should be okay. 

The boy gets off of the blonde and runs to me, taking my hand and leading me into the forest. I don't know where he's taking me, but if I saved him that means he won't hurt me, right?

We slow to a cave entrance. He turns to me, but doesn’t say anything. 

“Are you okay?” I ask him, noticing the cut under his eye. He nods, still not saying a word. “Those boys are assholes,” I cover my mouth at the bad word. “Sorry, but it’s true,” he laughs at me. I can’t believe he’s laughing at me after I saved his life. Then, I find myself laughing with him and it’s strange. 

He gestures for me to follow him deeper in the forest. 

We find a spot where he finally kneels on the ground and I follow.

“Do they usually pick on you?” I ask. He nods slowly and moves his sleeve to show scars and fresh cuts on his shoulder. I make the note in my mind that next time I’ll bring something to help heal those. 

His hands work and kneed in the grass and  grabs a few flowers that are scattered in different places. I see a bug on the trunk of the tree, my eyes trailing up the tree trunk that it travels. Where is it going to go?

A tap on my shoulder takes my attention away. I look down at the boy holding a small bracelet in his hands. He holds it to me, and I take it, trying not to break it. The little flowers spread throughout it tickle my hand. 

“For me?” I ask and he nods his head. 

“It’s to say ‘Thank You’,”  my heart is surprised when I finally hear his voice. 

“Hey. You wanna be my friend? I don’t have any,” I say.

His head moves so fast up and down. Finally! I found someone who likes me!

***

“You. . .” I whisper to him, his heavy eyelids covering his eyes staring back at me. 

“Me,” he looks at the bracelet sitting in the palm of his hand. I’m grateful he’s distracted while I process the new revelations. 

I push up from the ground and head for the exit, quickly stepping out into the rain.

“Y/N? Y/N!” he calls from behind me. I ignore him and try to keep my tears at bay. “Stop!” he yells. I hate that I do as he says, as if I’m his dog. He steps in front of me, and I turn away. “What’s wrong? Did I say something?” He tries to make eye contact with me and when I refuse, he uses a finger on my chin, the touch heating my face. 

“You can try to remind me of the good memories, Jungkook, but don’t forget those good times lasted for a week and you left,” I try to tame the way my voice is breaking. “You were my first friend and then you disappeared. I thought I was cursed for months!” a tear rolls down my cheek. He blinks. Once. Twice. “I get it. That was a long time ago and maybe it didn’t matter to you, but it does to me,” he shakes his head.

“Of course it matters, Y/N. You were my only friend and-”

“Then why did you leave me? Why didn’t you say anything? I risked so much going into the woods to find you.” Scenes of 10 year-old me play out in my head - screaming for Jungkook to come back until my throat itched, poisoning and rashes running down my legs. 

“It was going to be my first time in the pool,” his voice is low, “I wasn’t ready, but my mother was dying. Your very precious town was sending search parties to hunt us down. She couldn’t protect herself or me anymore, so I had to do it. I didn’t want to scare you,” his hand lowers back to his side and he takes a deep breath. “I was going through weeks of training myself and when my mom died and I got a hold of it, I went to try and find you, but I wasn’t finding you and it was too risky,” he explains. 

My heart cracks at the mention of his mother. I know what it’s like to lose a parent, but he only had her.  

“You should have told me. . .” 

“I wanted to. Trust me, Y/N. I did. But I wanted to figure out everything first before I jumped into it with you. I was also a kid at the time too. I didn’t have someone to guide me. Everyone hated me without being a beast. Could you imagine my fear of what would happen if they found out I am one? Especially with all the rumors and stories going around?” he argues. It’s a solid explanation. This was a long time ago and we were children. “When I saw you again and recognized that it was you, something I wanted more than anything, is for you not to be afraid of me. Your opinion, after a week, was the most important to me.”

Tears start to well up again. 

“Just like your opinion is most important to me now,” he whispers, stepping closer. I swallow the lump in my throat. His hair sticks to the sides of his head, some strands covering his eyes that are looking down at me. Goosebumps spread up and down my arms as heat bubbles in my stomach. 

“If you’re lying-”

“Don’t even think that,” he takes another step closer. I gasp when his hand wraps around my waist and pulls me to him, our chests touching and my hands resting on his arms. My thoughts are a jumbled mess and all I can ask is how this escalated so quickly. “Don’t go this time. I know I always tell you to leave, but I’m telling you to stay now.” 

My eyes blink and I’d like to blame it on the raindrops falling into my eyes, but I’m afraid to admit it’s because of how flustered I am at the stare he’s giving me. 

“And where do you get off on telling me what to do?”

“Can I be honest?”

“I’d like it if you were.”

“I think you like it when I tell you what to do.” It’s not the words I was expecting, but I don’t dislike it either. It’s also not false. “Do you want me, Y/N?” he whispers on my lips. “Tell me.” 

“Yes,” I say it a bit too quickly. 

Just when I think he’s going to plant his lips on mine, he instead asks, “Why?” The question is not hard to answer, but it is one that is difficult to say. 

“You’re the only person who makes me feel wanted in return,” I tell him. It’s honest and a much better answer than ‘You’re really hot’. “I don’t want to lose you, Jungkook,” I admit. “So, if you’re going to leave again you might as well-” 

His soft lips interrupt me - finally! 

A list of things I could be doing right now scrolls through my mind, yet none of them seem as important or as enticing as this is. If I could describe what this kiss is like, I don’t think that I could. No one has kissed me like this in the past. Nothing in the world can compare to the way that he holds me tightly against him, massaging the skin on my waist, while our mouths move in sync and rainwater mixes in with our saliva. 

His hands place pressure on hips and I respond by moving backward until I hit a tree. Now that I have back support, his lips push into me harder and I whimper into his mouth. He responds with a moan that runs straight to my core. 

We separate, breathing into each other. 

“It’s raining,” I say, my clothing completely stuck to me by now. 

“It’s not gonna stop me, but tell me if it’s going to stop you,” he brushes a hair away from my face and that’s when I can’t wait anymore. I want him too much to stop now, so I shake my head in answer. 

“I don’t want anything else to stop us,” I hook my fingers into his loose pants and bring him closer. The corner of his lips tilt up and his fingers crawl on the side of my neck before pulling me closer to him. 

The only thing I can pray for is that there are no more men who have decided to take on Jungkook and are still lurking in the forest, but that seems to be the last thing on his mind when he grinds into me. I moan into his mouth and he swallows it before leaning down to kiss my neck. I arch into him as he gets lower at the same time tickling the skin under my shirt as he lifts it up and over my head.

The rain is cold on me, but it’s worth it when his eyes stay on my perky nipples. 

“I-” he gulps. Not so mouthy now. 

“You can touch me, if you want,” I hate the way I sound so eager. I thought I would be able to play it cool, similar to the time I first lost my virginity (with a complete douchebag), but Jungkook makes me too nervous to ‘play it cool’. The way his eyes darken when he scans every inch of me, and the way he looks ready to devour me does the opposite of calming me down. 

I can only pray to any force out there that I make him feel the way he makes me feel. 

“I’ll do more than touch,” the palm of his hand skims the side of my breast, and he leans in. “I’ll do anything to show you you’re mine,” he whispers into my ear. The adrenaline is almost too much - I’m aching for him. 

“Then show me what it’s like to be yours,” I whisper back. 

He doesn’t look at me, his eyes stay on my lips for a few moments, then he moves down, taking one tit into his mouth leaving me breathless. His fingers tweak the other one, occasionally switching. 

“Jungkook- ah!” I gasp. He presses and gropes, then instant repeats. His skin is touching mine in every spot while his tongue continues its ministrations on my chest. I grab onto his hair in case I faint and lean my head onto the tree. The worry of getting bugs on me disappears when he nibbles on my skin. 

“I can’t wait much longer,” he sighs when coming back up. His fingers slide into my pants, and push into the space between my legs. I don’t expect it and cry into his mouth. “I don’t want to rush, bunny, but I can tell you’re as desperate as I am.”

I want to argue that I’m not, but it would be a lie. And it’s hard to argue with his fingers pumping in and out of me. He starts to kiss on my neck while his thumb joins in rubbing my clit. I feel a tension building in my stomach, then the knot unties and I release onto his hand. 

I’m still on my high when his fingers slip out and he licks them clean. I watch him and I’m prepared to do anything for this man. He already looks fucked out and I haven’t done anything to him. His hair is a mess but it’s a result of the rain mixed with my fingers moving it every which way. 

“Now I know you’re ready,” he pants. His pants fall to the ground, revealing the hard-on standing up. It isn’t fair that even his cock is perfect too. 

His eyes fall to my pants. 

“Can I. . . ?” he asks. I nod, slow. 

His hands are gentle as he peels my pants down my legs. I’m suddenly self-conscious when they come down, afraid of him spotting any hair or any marks but if he notices them, he doesn’t bring them up. 

“I’ve been thinking about this the past few days. How I’ll make you mine, how I’ll make you scream for me, how I’ll take care of you every day after. . .” He rambles before putting his lips on me again, the kiss frantic and wild, our tongues mixing all while pulling me closer, his hands move to my bare ass. “Jump,” he whispers, and I follow his instruction. 

My back hits the tree and our centers touch, bare skin to bare skin. It’s almost overwhelming. I feel as if I’m going to fall, but he makes it look so easy holding me. My heart grows ten times. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He draws me out of my head with a curious glance. I shrug, not really knowing how to explain it, but he still doesn’t move, waiting. “Are you regretting this?”

I hit him on the shoulder. “How could you say that when I’m still here and fully naked mind you!” 

“Then what was that look?” 

“I just . . .” I pause. It’s nerve-wracking to be vulnerable in front of him. I’m already naked physically, but to be emotionally naked is different. “I keep thinking about how perfect you are.” There’s a surprise written all over his face. “Don’t think for a second I would regret this, even if we are in the middle of a downpour,” I instruct. 

A small smile appears on his face. 

“You’re perfect for me,” he plants a kiss on my lips before he turns his attention down to adjust himself. He slides into me slowly and a whimper leaves my throat. His hand soothes me, massaging the skin on my butt. 

His head falls onto my shoulder, and we stay like that for a few moments as he inches in. 

When he starts to move, I already feel the tree scratching my bare back, but I don’t mind the pain with pleasure. 

Every part of the front of me slides against him and the rest of my body feels sticky from the humidity. It’s messy, but I can’t imagine this any other way. 

His breathing grows heavy as he thrusts into me. His jaw is clenched as he lifts me up and down. 

“You’re beautiful. I wish you could see what I’m seeing,” he breathes. “Y/N, oh God, Y/N,” he groans. His words set off a spark in me bigger than before. It’s good to know that even when I’m naked, sticky, messy, he can still see me as beautiful. “I should’ve kept those guys alive and let them watch,” his tone is different now. “I should have let them watch what they couldn’t have.” 

“Jungkook, pelase -” 

He balances me on one arm, using the other to hold the side of my head while he kisses me. 

“I’m almost- oh gosh,” I cry, but before I can jump over the edge he slides out of me. “Jungkook? What are you-?”

I hold onto him when he moves and puts me onto the wet dirt. It’s cold and slushy at first, then warms up at the same time Jungkook hovers over me. 

“This is how I always dreamt about you with me,” he says, and slides into me again, my heels locking around his waist and on his back. His body weight rests on me as he moves again and his head falls into my neck. 

It doesn’t take long to get me right back to the edge, and from the way his thrusts are getting messier, he’s going to meet me there. 

“Jungkook!” I cry as I spill onto him and he does the same. 

I notice it’s not raining anymore when all the noise and movement stops.We lay there for a few moments in the quiet after he slides out of me, however, his weight is still resting on me. 

“Is your penis gone when you turn into a beast?” I ask, killing the silence. He laughs into my shoulder then lifts his head. 

“Why? Do you wanna fuck him too?” he suggests. I smack his shoulder. “Thank you, by the way. I know dragging a beast the same weight of a tree was not the easiest. You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I had to,” I argue. “You’ve saved me more than once now. The least I could do was try one time.”

“You helped me twice, actually,” he says. I’m back to when we were kids. 

“And there might be many more times after this,” I put a hand on his cheek. 

“And I’ll save you each,” he plants a kiss on my lips, “and every,” another kiss, “time,” a more passionate one. We stay naked on that floor for hours, looking up into the trees, wondering what life or death situation we’ll have to save each other from tomorrow. 

[nezuscribe]

there was this one time you and slytherin!gojo were walking back from the library after it closed, something the two of you did more frequently ever since you had gotten closer since working on that tedious transfiguration essay.

you’re talking about something, not noting the way slytherin!gojo could barely take his eyes off of you, and you’re too busy to notice the other pair of voices that’s about the round the corner.

your eyes shot up at the familiar sounds of other slytherins from your ear, your stare darting over to gojo, knowing he’d be caught dead before he’d be seen in public with you (he wouldn’t, but you didn’t know about the internal turmoil he was going through)

so instead, in your fit of anxiety, you just find your way into the nearest broom closet, expecting him to just leave, but he follows closely behind you in confusion.

“what are you doing?” he’d asked hushed, clearly not caring as your face of confusion mirrors his.

“i heard tillys voice,” you say as if it was obvious, but his white brows just furrow even more.

“…so?” he draws out, leaning closer to the wooden door to hear it for himself.

“what do you mean so?” you ask hushed, “isn’t she one of your closest friends?”

but he either chooses not to answer or just doesn’t hear you over the fact that he tries to open the door but to no avail, rattling the handle, his lips pursing as if refused to budge.

“how’d you manage to do that?” you ask, looking over his shoulder as he gives you a look of annoyance, his eyes rolling as he fidgets with the lock.

“i didn’t do anything, you’re the one who shoved us in here,” he mutters, brining out his wand as he tries to fix it.

“you followed me in!” you reply with a shocked laugh, dragging your hand over your exhausted face as you come to terms with the fact that you might be stuck in this stuffy room longer than you expected.

gojo tries a couple of spells but nothing works. he looks over his shoulder, shooting you a look.

“what?” you snap, exhausted and annoyed that he was putting the blame on you when you were the one trying to spare his stupid reputation.

“nothing,” he answers, shrugging as he leans back on the door, “was just trying to find the best place of the floor to sleep on.”

you groan, pushing him aside as you try to open it yourself.

you’ve gotten close enough to him over the past couple of weeks were this is normal, where this sort of banter isn’t out of the norm. it’s almost like you see friends interact with each other.

you feel heat rise in your cheeks at your close proximity, feeling his eyes bore into the side of your face as you try casting your own spells. you’re rarely so close to him that you can smells his lingering cologne, or hear the little puffs of air that escape his nose. his lanky and structured frame almost lean over you, but you try to ignore that.

“why’d you care about tilly?” he asks suddenly, his voice hushed, blue eyes shining as yours snap over to his.

you shake your head, nose wrinkling as you look away, trying to distract yourself with fixing the lock.

“why don’t you care about tilly?” you shoot back, your brow raises, stare still focused on the brass handle.

“because she’s dull,” gojo says instantly, the two of you so close together where you can feel his heat on your skin, “she can barely think on her own accord, she follows me around everywhere and…” a part of him wants to say she’s not like you, but it seems like lately he’s been wanting to say that about all of the people he’s considered his friends, “she’s spoiled.”

you ignore the beat of your heart against your rib cage, swallowing thickly as trying to focus on your spells gets increasingly harder.

“you’re spoiled,” you say, not knowing what else to comment as you hear him snort.

“so you avoid her because she’s spoiled?” he mutters teasingly, his eyes taking in your features; the curve of your lisps the little crease between your brows as your focus the slope of your nose.

you cast a glance at him, watching as he shrugs.

“i avoid her because she once stole my coin purse last month and used it to buy scarves.” the door clicks open, the light from the hall seeping in. but the two of you don’t make a move to leave.

his face falls, and you catch it.

“but i guess she’s a little dull too,” you mutter indifferently, feeling like you couldn’t blink with the way he was looking at you.

you’re the first that leaves, grabbing your bag as you make your way to the dorms.

little did you expect that a couple days later tilly would bashfully make her way to your room, giving you the money back that she had taken a couple weeks earlier, her head hanging low as you look around wildly in confusion.

and little did you know that gojo was well aware of how to fix a broken lock. he just didn’t really seem to care that much to fix it that night.

[ikeuki]

and the world kept spinning ! / 니키

( pairing ) nishimura riki x fem!reader ✶ grumpy x sunshine ; fluff/crack, light cursing + one mention of a dealer/"product" — ( wordcount ) 1.3k

ᯓ★ ikeuki’s note. mr. nonchalant is not so nonchalant now…HE’S SELLING !!!

synopsis. after getting detention on picture day, riki swears he hates you—his actions do not follow his words however.

“i'm gonna dip at lunch.” jake decided and laid back.

“same i have a bio test during fifth that i'm not trying to do,” heeseung added and leaned on the classroom’s wall.

it was routine for the older boys to accompany riki in his class before the bell rang since they all had class without him. riki’s classmates refused to even look to the back of the room where the delinquents were sprawled out.

jake was trying to paper football with sunghoon, having his legs on some poor kid’s desk and flicking a triangle “football,” made out of that same kid’s notebook paper.

sunghoon was half-playing with jake and half-on his phone. his additions to the conversation were the occasional “mhm” and “yeah i'm down.”

jay was sitting in front of riki, turned around with his arms resting on the chair. he continued speaking to heeseung, who was by the window, about their plans to ditch.

“um since when do you take bio?” jake asked, repositioning his little football before flicking it across the desk, through sunghoon’s goal.

“since forever—just haven’t been to actual class yet,” heeseung answered with a laugh.

“so riki, you gonna ditch with us?” jay asked the younger boy who was carving random drawings on his desk with an overly sharpened pencil.

“uh i don't know...my mom's been on my ass since i ditched on monday, she got a call from the school or something,” riki mumbled, keeping his eyes on the smudged lead in front of him.

he was still upset at how the school dean reported riki leaving the school premises during picture day. everyone else was doing it and he just happened to be the only one who got caught. maybe if he wasn't so distracted that day...

“you’re joking—they still do that?” jake asked.

“apparently.” he recalled that day, when he was waiting in line to get his picture taken so he could slip out unnoticed. unfortunately, his long last name prevented him from leaving in the morning like the rest of his friends and was stuck in the stuffy gym for more than three hours.

he thought it was pretty unproductive. on the school’s part. the students would all line up then go to class once done. but since they can’t monitor each student leaving, they’re giving everyone a one way ticket out of class!

moments before his impatience was going to kill him, he was distracted by a vanilla-scented girl who would click her heels nonstop.

aka, you.

after your little interaction, riki swiftly exited the gym, but not before turning to watch you take your picture through the door's window. you smiled softly, teeth showing naturally with your lip gloss shining under the reflective screen.

you easily listened to his advice, his scoff turning into more of a subtle smile. his eyes followed your figure hop off the black stool and pick up your freshly printed student id.

"hey!" a voice called from down the hall.

riki whipped his head towards the sound to see a man walking towards him, "why aren't you in class!" oh shit, it was the dean.

thus, he got detention and the dean called his mom to tattletale his "ditching." he blamed it on you. if you hadn't clicked your stupid little heels, he would have never talked to you and then would have never stood there outside the gym, out in the open for any hall monitors (or deans...) to come and catch him.

now he had to bail on his friends and was in deep shit at home. all because of you and your stupid heels. and stupid curls. and stupid vanilla-scented perfume. whatever!

jay continued talking about their afterschool activities and heeseung shared that his dealer just shipped new product. uninterested in the conversation, riki turned his head to the window. his eyes drifted outside where students were rushing to class.

he skimmed through the various students he never cared to look twice at. until a familiar figure emerged from the hurried crowd.

wait—soft and shiny hair, little black heels, and the freshly pressed school uniform that never looked this good on any other student. riki knew that girl anywhere.

you were chatting away with your friends, too immersed in whatever you were saying to notice the steps by the front of the building. your mouth was moving at the same speed as your legs. failing to see the four steps ahead of you, your little black heels tripped on the first one.

riki instantly stood up. pushing back his chair and desk and watching as you fell forward. the loud movement from his desk attracted the attention of everyone in the class, turning to watch their silent, mysterious classmate become the star of the spotlight. riki didn’t even notice though, his eyes glued to your clumsy figure.

“dude—!” jake exclaimed at the sudden movement.

“what the fu—” jay moved back.

luckily (not for riki), class president and top student, yang jungwon managed to step forward just in time to catch you. the scene played out like one from a kdrama, him swiftly turning you on your back and making you lock eyes with your savior.

riki watched from across the courtyard, three stories above, and through the window as you two smiled at each other before you awkwardly got to your feet. he watched as you patted his shoulder and rambled an apology.

your cheeks were flushed, a little embarrassed and maybe a little blushing. riki hoped it was only the first.

hold up.

why would he care if you were blushing. blushing for that goody-two shoes yang jungwon—who all the teachers and students adored. whatever. you should’ve fallen on your face, riki would’ve liked that better…yeah he totally would’ve.

“what the hell man!” heeseung asked, gripping onto his shoulder to question his outburst.

snapping out of his trance, riki turned to his friend and finally realized that everyone was staring at him. he wasn’t used to such attention.

“o-oh..uhh it’s nothing—i thought—nothing nevermind.” riki stammered, embarrassed. he quickly took his seat again and kept his head down to avoid any awkward glances. the class slowly returned to their conversations, ignoring the boy’s questionable actions.

“what do you mean nothing...” sunghoon spoke up, furrowing his eyebrows.

before his friends could continue hounding him for an answer, the front door slid open with a loud slam! everyone turned their heads to the teacher walking into the class. upon spotting the four misplaced boys, his demeanor immediately turned sour.

“yah! you four—get to class!” the teacher shouted from the door, pointing to the obviously out-of-place seniors in a junior class.

startled but unmoved, the boys casually got to their feet and walked to the back door.

“im so sorry teach, we just love our riki so much!” jake fake apologized and bowed a whole ninety-degrees.

the other three began putting their hands together and bowing too, sarcastically muttering apologies to the teacher and the other students.

“GET OUT!”

“have fun learning algebra!” heeseung shouted with only his head peeking in from the back door. riki only laughed at his annoyingly loud friends as they ran out into the hallway.

as the teacher began class, he looked back out the window to see you long gone. instantly, he internally slapped his own face.

‘stop looking at the window, riki.’

‘why are you looking for her, riki.’

‘she likes jungwon, riki.’

‘STOP THINKING ABOUT HER, RIKI!’

riki kept his eyes shut and tried to calm his own crazy thoughts. he put his head down on his desk, ignoring whatever the teacher started blabbering about.

with the inviting warmth of the sunlight radiating through the window, he was slowly drifting to sleep when suddenly he heard the door open.

click. clack. click.

[penvisions]

stages of devotion {holiday hustle}

Pairing: Holiday Impaired! Joel Miller x Expert Holiday Baker! Reader

Summary: The holidays came fast this year, but with it comes a father and daughter pair you didn't ever expect to see again.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: holiday triggers, holiday stress, baking stress, food industry triggers, family issues, minor off screen family dynamics, super soft yearning, mutual pining, sexual tension, smut, p in v, creampie, joel's dirty talk deserves its own warning, lemme know if i missed any!

A/N: so its a few days after the holiday that i announced this on. so so sorry for the tease, y'all. finally made it to my "weekend" only to get sick :c trying to make the most of the days though (within reason). love y'all and hope you enjoy this!

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

The holiday season sucks.

That’s about all you’re confident in as you twirl the piping bag in your hand for what feels like the thousandth time that morning. There’s an entire rack of pies beside you, tray after tray that needs to be garnished with cremieux and a little chocolate coin that has the first letter of your bakery branded on it in gold. Behind it are three more of the same pie. Behind that are four more of apple.

Apple and pumpkin. The only flavors you offered for the season. One hundred each, plenty enough to keep you afloat for the next month or so if you sell out. Especially if you sell out the display case as well.

Your bakery is small, just you and your friend Colbie. Something to be passed in the blink of an eye on the busy downtown street. But it was born of passion and creativity, a space you carved out in the big scary world all for yourself. You’re none the wiser of how your day will turn out as you continue to pipe the faintly black spotted vanilla over the remaining pies, moving onto fetching things out of the oven as timers begin to go off and garnish the ones already chilled from an earlier bake.

Just down the street, Joel and Sarah are strolling down the sidewalk from where they parked the car at the end of the block.

“Don’t see why the crew needs more food, baby girl.”

“Because we need to show our appreciation for them, dad. They’re working the morning of thanksgiving, for crying out loud.”

“This isn’t exactly a tax write off…”

“Dad!” The exasperated teenager nudges at his side with her shoulder, catching his ribs lightly. But he doesn’t stumble nor do his steps falter, he lets her win a lot of the time but this? He still loves how she tries to roughhouse with him only to realize that he’s always gonna have the upper hand unless he gives into her. Her pout and huff draws a laugh from deep in his chest.

“It’s true! I gotta pay for it all outta my account, not the business. We already picked up breakfast for everyone and half the men are gonna store it in their coolers for a later time.” He pivots her toward the doorway just past a large window display, squares of glass allowing for a glimpse inside a local bakery.

“Don’t you put the catering on the business card?”

“Well yeah, but their overtime for today is coming out of it too.”

“Maybe if we ask the owner, they can discount us or something?” Sarah is suddenly stopping just inside the threshold, watching with wide eyes as her father walks in behind her. The scent of fresh baked bread and flaky pastries welcomes them despite the empty lobby. “Is there a reason you’re so hesitant to use the company card? I thought the business was doing good?”

Joel heaves a heavy sigh, placing both his hands gently on her shoulders to hold her attention and give her all of his.

“Everything is fine, Sarah.” His brown eyes take in the way her own multifaceted ones gleam in the bright sunlight shining in the muted green space the lobby has been painted. Plants alive and well, live wood bar top against the window for people to sit at. “Money is my worry, but there ain’t nothing to worry about okay?”

“We can still ask after a discount, it doesn’t hurt, right?” Suddenly shy, her eyes break contact with his and turn down to her scuffed shoes. “I know that it’s new, but the therapy sessions aren’t exactly cheap or covered by the insurance.”

“Hey now, don’t go worrying about all that either.” Joel’s voice is so soft, floating through the air and sneaking into the kitchen through the siding of the swinging door. You pause in the rosette you were piping atop a cake, just little personal ones with autumnal flowers for the season. “I’m the dad, and that’s a dad thing, okay? You want to keep goin’ and that’s all that matters. Just want you to be okay, that’s all I ever want ‘cause I love you so damn much, okay?”

She nods once, still not bringing her eyes back up but she huffs out a giggle when he leans down and kisses her cheek, deliberately nuzzling the scruff on his cheek against her own.

“Besides, I don’t wanna bother them, baby girl, it’s such a small place.” With that settled they both turn back to the display cause and counter, just in time to see you approach through the window in the door.

“Joel?” There’s no hiding the smile that breaks out across your face as you push through the swinging door that leads separates the kitchen and public area. Even despite the inner turmoil you had endured after first meeting him. The will he won’t he of leaving your number for him…

“Camp lady! Dad, look, it’s her!” The excited teenager hops up and down on her long legs, arms hanging onto one of Joel’s and she jostles him. The slight melancholy of her previous words and worries forgotten with the aid of Joel’s soothing ones and your appearance. “You work here? That’s so cool!”

“Yes, Sarah, honey, I see her.” He rolls his eyes for you to see as she skips forward up to the counter. He looks good, if a little tired. His scruff is longer, body a little leaner than when you had seen him last…two months ago now. You had been so sure he would call or text, reach out in whatever way was easiest for him. And when he hadn’t…you had thrown yourself into work and prep for the holiday season. Reveling in the night you shared and taking it for what it was, not letting the lack of communication taint what had been an electric connection. His eyes are glued to you, ignoring the twirling and excitement of his daughter as she flits in front of the display case.

As you round the corner of the counter and display case, it’s obvious how busy you’ve been in the morning hours as stains darken the fabric. Reaching with a flour dusted hand, you go to shake the man’s hand but he surprises you and pulls you into a tight hug. The smell of his spicy cologne and wood shavings spurs butterflies to life in your belly and heat rise to your cheeks.

“It’s good to see ya, darlin’.” He whispers in your ear, voice all baritone gravel. He releases you just as Colbie enters back in through the front door. You see the way her eyes widen at the show of affection, she knows you better than anyone and casual touch is not something you’re a fan of. But you can tell that she immediately knows who Joel and his daughter are if the sparkle in her eye and the smirk she flashes at you says anything.

“I’m so sorry, I thought I locked the door behind me. Want me to keep it unlocked, we’ve got about fifteen minutes until we’re open.”

“Leaving it open will be fine, do you mind-“ The timer pinned to your apron tie goes off and a second later the one for the oven blares from the kitchen.

“Got it!” And she’s rushing behind the counter to slip back through the sliding door.

Joel looks like he’s about to apologize for barging in, Sarah leading him in the early hour. Coffee thermos left on the counter in the rush and his brain is working overtime without it. The pickup order she had placed with a breakfast place too busy for him to grab something there. You wave him off with a soft smile, not minding the intrusion one bit.

“My dad would not shut up about you on the way home, especially since we still have that air mattress you leant us! Thank you again so much for that, I didn’t want my dad to have to sleep on the ground with his bad back.”

“Hey now, you’re a little too forward with the embarrassing details.” Joel’s bashful words are bathed in an even tone, trying to parent his daughter but still treat her like the independent person that she is.

“So what can I do for you?” You try to fight the slight awkwardness of randomly happening across them as customers in your shop and you swear you see Joel duck his head as he roughs a hand across the back of his neck. Your causal tone and polite smile dousing the hope that had flared in his own chest when you walked out from the kitchen. “I’ve got plenty of pastries, the pies aren’t quite done yet but if you need one or two, I can add the finishing touches real quick?”

“Dad, we should get them pie! Like one each, you think? There’s five on the crew and then the secretaries too, they should get one since they’ll be waiting for us in the office. We can put the bonus checks on top with some pretty stickers! Oooh, dad we gotta stop at the art store now!”

“Sarah, honey, take a breath.” Joel claps hand over her shoulder and she beams up at him. “We only got half an hour to get to the office.”

“Oh, that’s okay! We can still do the pie each thing, right?”

“Whatever you wanna do,” He presses a kiss to the top of her head, her kinky curls flattening as he does so and earns him a grumbled ‘spent so much time on it this morning, old man’.

“So that was seven pies then?” You ask, trying to keep up with the both of them, they’ve got such an easy-going way that they communicate. Their bond obvious and their love pure as you had witnessed back at that campsite, he wants for her to have everything he can give her. It’s admirable, a good man, a good parent.

“Uh, make it ten, please.” Joel steps up to the counter, taking out his wallet from a back pocket. “Half pumpkin, half apple. So folks can pick whichever one they want.”

“Ten, got it. It’s gonna take me a few minutes to finish up, do you want a coffee while you wait?” And you swear his gaze hardens as he looks up to see the price displayed on the screen, card ready to press against the pad after you finished punching in his order on your own side of the register. The same way they had just before he had kissed you, angled toward you in front of that fire, the determination set his face in such an endearing way.

“Would be wonderful, darlin’. Just a black drip, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Hey, just so you know, ‘m sorry I didn’t call.” Joel shuffles on his feet, watching as Sarah starts up the truck and begins to dance to the loud beats he can make out through the cracked window. You had walked out with the pair to help load the bags into the extended cab of the gleaming gray truck. “I wanted to, but-“

“Life is hectic sometimes, it’s okay. I’m not gonna say I wasn’t disappointed, but I do understand.” You know he’s got a lot more going on in his life, with a child he’s raising on his own. The bakery keeps you busy, hours not quite the same as everyone. You never want to feel like you’re holding expectations for a life that just doesn’t fit into your schedule sometimes. And that included Joel, his own busy schedule not allowing for personal indulgences either. It’s hard not to feel like it’s a cruel twist of fate, that you two met only to realize the puzzle pieces of your life don’t quite match up.

“The paper, I had it. Put it in my pocket but my brother snatched the flannel instead of his own at the work site and washed the damn thing.”

“Little brother?” You tilt your head to the side, all too familiar with the chaos of sheer unpredictability one could bring.

“Yep, meddling, clueless little brother.” He’s fascinating, every little detail you learn about him draws you in closer, a pull toward the man you’ve only gotten glimpses of as of yet.

“Mine is pretty clueless too, god love him.”

“But- uh…oddly enough,” A large hand rubs at the back of his neck, the muscles of his arm straining against his flannel sleeve and catching your eye. “Mine is having a small dinner tonight, just us two, Sarah and his wife. Their twins. I know you got work today and don’t really know me at all, but I was wondering if-“

“Apple or pumpkin?” Lips pulling into a wide smile, you swear your heart is about to beat out of your chest, thudding wildly the second you realized where he was going with his explanation of his own holiday plans.

“Huh?”

“Do you want me to bring an apple or pumpkin pie?” You look up at him through your lashes, heat blooming in your chest at the insinuation he wanted you there, at the invitation you hadn’t been extended in years. Everyone always wanted the good you baked, the bread, the skills you had for the kitchen. But they never particularly wanted you around for the holidays. The family disappointment, for not being married, for not having kids, for not finishing school, for being too different.

“Darlin’ you don’t have to bring anything, just want you to come and be my date.”

And he couldn’t have said anything more perfect as you feel your throat constrict and tears well up in your eyes.

“Hey now, I mean it.” He’s shifting, hands reaching for you and you feel a little sorry for the ‘oof’ he lets out when you crash into his open arms. “Wanna get to know you, but only if you want that too. If we can carve out some time for each other.”

“Of course, Joel. That would…that would make me happy.”

“’m droppin’ Sarah off now, gotta head to the site for a few hours but I can pick you up here once I’m done. That sound okay to you?” He looks so hopefully, so happy that he can ask you in person, can ask to see you again now that he’s found you and it melts your heart. You’re sure the smile you give him is just as dopey at the one he’s beaming down at you.

“Yes, that sounds perfect. Here.” You pull away from him just enough to reach into your back pocket and brandish a business card at him. The thick cardstock is embossed in gold lettering, your name and number displayed on it proudly. “This is a little more permanent than a flimsy piece of paper.”

He pulls one of his own business cards out from his wallet as he securely puts yours away.

You continue to feel the warmth of his fingers passing it to you even hours later as you hold piping bags filled with cooled frosting, as you add frills and garnishes to pastries set in the cooler after leaving the oven a nice golden brown. And even as you feel your face heat up at the confrontation Colbie sneaks in throughout the day about your ‘gentleman caller’.

Around noon, Joel’s truck parks out front of the bakery. He’s showered, it looks like it as you see the shine to dark curls. He’s taken a shaver to his scruff as well, it’s not as long as it had been this morning.

“Please tell me you’re closed tomorrow.” Joel taps the hours displayed on the door as he steps through it, the gold lettering telling him that you were in fact not. But open at seven am sharp. Looking up from where you’re closing down the register, you hold up one finger up to indicate you need a moment.

As you continue, you can sense his gaze as it takes in the space you poured your blood, sweat and tears into. Devoted hours to manifesting and making it a reality. The case is completely empty, parchment paper adorned with errant crumbs all that he sees inside through the shiny glass.

When you step out from behind the counter, bag and keys in hand, you clock the second Joel realizes you’ve taken a moment to change as well. No longer in your dirty apron or black athleisure, but in a skirt that flows to about midthigh, tights underneath and a thin sweater. Your hair is down too, now, no longer pulled back into low pigtails and covered with a beanie for safety reasons around the kitchen.

“Darlin’, you look-“ He swallows, tongue watering as he takes in the sight of you all dolled up for him, for a date with him. “You look amazin’.”

“Just some spare clothes I had in my office. Didn’t wanna roll up to your brother’s house covered in flour and chocolate.” He’s shushing you as he ambles up, pressing his lips to your forehead as he cradles your face.

“He wouldn’t have cared and neither would I. Today is about family, no matter their shape or mess, got it? Miller households are safe places, you hear me?”

The drive over to his brother’s is short, the two of them in the same neighborhood but different blocks something that tickles you to know end. Watchful big brother, independent little brother who didn’t want to stray too far. It’s endearing, so different from you own family. Parents live upstate, brother is still in university, opting to live in the dorms instead of with you. Younger sister god knows where now, she pops up every year with a crazy tale of where she ended up for most of the time she had disappeared.

His brother doesn’t seem surprised in the least when Joel shows up on his doorstep with you at his side, his greeting a wide smile and bright eyes. His wife, Maria is just as easy going, just as welcoming. Praising you for bringing dessert and that she had totally blanked on it for after the meal in the hectic planning of the day.

The atmosphere is cozy, holiday cheer abundant despite the temperate Texas weather that plagues the state year round. Sarah is particularly excited to be helping out this year, the first she’s old enough to. A set of twins half her age run around with shrieking laughter as Joel and Tommy chase them around and keep them busy while you help out in the kitchen as well, not wanting to just show up and sit around waiting for everything to be done.

It's so different from your usual meal alone, normally just leftovers from the day before on a tray as you settle in bed and binge watch something once the bakery closes up.

It warms your heart and makes you feel full in a way that being with your family never has. From the easy going conversation with Maria, the light teasing and focus of following instructions from Sarah, stolen glances with Joel, the wide brimming smile of his brother as he realizes that the scene is a little more complete with you there now.

“Tell me I can kiss you, please.” Joe’s lips brush the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver at the vibrations that caress the sensitive skin. He’s been angling closer all afternoon, the couch cushions flattening and sloping. Pooling you closer to where his thick thighs rest, to the intoxicating warmth of his body and the heady smell of his spiced cologne. The movie credits are playing softly on the screen, everyone well fed and just now recovering to tend to things such as packing up leftovers and beginning to organize what was left.

The second you two were alone, Joel had used the arm he had slung up on the back of the couch around your shoulders to tug you in close. Tucking you into him, he used his other hand to pivot your legs into his lap. He’s kneading the skin there, over your tights. Thick fingers daring to trace higher and higher as he pulls back to look into your eyes.

“You’re so goddamn pretty, baby, can’t believe my streak of bad luck.” And at the flash of guilt in the depths of warm brown eyes, you surge forward and kiss him with a ferocity that startles him. The small ‘humph!’ and the tightening of his hand around your thigh curls desire low in your middle as his tongue eagerly meets yours as you part your lips.

“Bad luck, good luck. Doesn’t matter.” You manage between deep kisses, hands threading through the thick locks of chocolate curls atop his head. “We’re here now, I’m here with you.”

“Good.” He’s swallowing the moan that bubbles up from how he presses into you, how he pulls you flush with him.

“Joel! We got a house full of impressionable kids and you’re just makin’ out on the couch with the baker?”

The deep rumble of his chuckle does nothing but make your stomach jolt as heat lances through your core. The sound hitting deep and making you bury your face in the man’s neck as he parts only his lips from yours.

“Gotta embarrass me always, huh?” He’s holding you tight still, hands gripping and knuckles straining with the effort it’s taking to stop his ministrations.

“Just keep it in your pants, we’ve got everything packed up for y’all to take home. Sarah’s tucked into the spare room, helping out this year really took it outta her.”

“That where she snuck off to?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. We can watch her for the night. She don’t go back to school until next week right? Just come get ‘er tomorrow. And you,” Tommy aims twin finger guns at you. “Are welcome back anytime, Maria really appreciated the help in the kitchen but mostly I think she just loved having another woman around to chat with. Seriously, she’s gonna offer to come by the bakery and grab lunch one day soon.”

With that, Tommy saunters back into the kitchen with a snicker of his own and some words you can’t quite make out to the woman in question.

“Well, what do ya think?” Joel moves to whisper in your ear again. “Wanna come back to mine? Or I could take you home? Whichever you want, sweetheart.”

The sudden image of you and Joel tangled up on top of your bed has you kissing him full on the mouth one last time.

“Take me home and then take me to bed.”

Giddy anticipation fills the cab of his truck, the engine ticking as he shuts it off and just sits back for a moment. His eyes find yours and you can’t help the giggle that bursts from your chest, hands tangled and fingers twisting around each other in your lap. His hand reaches and takes one of your own, engulfing it with the sheer size difference. His beautiful hands that craft houses and woodwork, his beautiful hands that raised his amazing, rambunctious but sweet daughter, his beautiful hands that held his young nephew and niece with such care. His beautiful hands that you’ve felt explore your body twice now, the urge for him to do so again so strong it makes you feel dizzy.

“I can leave if you’re nervous, darlin’. No pressure, no hard feelings.” Joel Miller, the man that he is, knew just what to say to ease your worries.

“No, no. I just…”

“Thank you, for today.” You whisper, emotions getting the better of you. “I really thought that…this year I’d be alone again. My family only ever asks after desserts, always schedules the meal late and too far away for me to make the drive. I…I really liked spending time with you and your family today, they made me feel so welcome and included. It- it was really nice, Joel.”

The trembling of your lower lip is embarrassing but you can’t fight it off as you bare your heart to the man beside you.

“Hey now, it’s okay. I got ya,” He’s shuffling closer, the console pushed up to allow him to slide across the bench seat. “They loved you, ‘m sure they wouldn’t mind seein’ you more.”

And it’s easy, the way he soothes the turmoil in your mind, begins to help heal the trauma that bubbles up this time of year.

It’s easy how he kisses you and makes you feel like the most important person in the world.

It’s easy how he let’s you guide him into your home with clasped hands and a shy smile.

It’s easy the next morning when you wake up beside him, his naked body like a furnace under the sheets as it wraps around your own. The hours posted on your bakery door correct except for the day that follows any holiday. His breath little puffs against the back of your neck as you both share a pillow, while your exhalation becomes needy as you feel an ache between your legs. Little whimpers thrown into the air with no regard to how desperate they sound.

Heat sparks through you as you recall the desire in his hooded eyes the night before as you straddled him, taking your time with lowering yourself onto his hard cock, already dribbling when he had shucked his pants off for you to see all of him for the first time. The sight of him sprawled across your bed, head thrown on the pillows and bronze skin gleaming in the low lights strung up over your bed had all but turned you possessive. The memories were too much, kindling desire and pleasure in you in such a way that should be a warning in itself that you were fucked.

You were gone on him and you could only hope he felt the same way.

Soon enough, the shifting of your thighs to relieve pleasure that tingles there rouses him.

“Woke up needy, huh darlin’?” His voice is deep velvet, the early morning blessing him with such a soothing baritone that it almost has you rolling your eyes at it caresses over your skin much like his exploring fingers.

“Mhm, can still feel you. Right here-“ And his hand flattens against the soft give of your stomach where you guided it, just below your belly button.

“Fuck, that’s so hot, you have no idea.” He’s crowding you, body shifting to press your chest to the bed, his legs tangling with yours as he kneels behind you. He hinges your hips, bringing them up to rub the length of his cock between your glistening folds. “So full a me still, holding it like such a good girl for me.”

The whine of his name from your lips has him pushing in, slowly and carefully until his hips meet the back of your thighs. Turning it into a low moan that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. Your panting is all he can hear, the clench of your walls all he can feel as your back arches and you press back into him.

“Right here, huh?” His hand is still on your belly, and it presses now, pulling a yelp from you as the pressure in your core intensifies. Your cunt gushes around him, earning you a hiss as he grinds himself against you to make a squelching sound.

“Please please please tell me we’re going to do this again.” You move on him, pulling forward a bit, knees spreading and hands gripping tight to the sheets underneath you. Joel’s answering groan is more than enough but his voice delivers your fate in such an easy way.

“Oh darlin’, we’re gonna be doin’ this every day for the rest of our lives.” And with that he moves to grip your hips so tight you’re sure there will be reddened imprints of his fingers, pulling out in a slow drag before he slams back in and sets a brutal pace.

And maybe the holidays aren’t so bad, after all.

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[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 6) part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

-

And they say if it sways, you have to cut it off at the root.

You repeat that to yourself when you catch the way you glance out the kitchen window again, surreptitiously watching John. It’s hard to pull your eyes away. He walks over to the well to fetch water for you to do the dishes, the chore you’d elected to take when he offered you the choice between that and feeding the horses. It’s a fair compromise since you balk at the thought of getting anywhere near either of those beasts. 

Watching him bend over the well to lower the bucket down, his muscled shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and suspenders drawing tight against his back, makes you bite your lip. Then scowl. Then pull the curtain shut to block out the view.

You have to cut any gentleness off at the root. 

When he comes back, you step to the side without a word to let him pour the water into the wash basin, hot water from the teakettle and lye soap making the water already in the pan sudsy. In a sense, it’s not any different from anything you’ve done back home; the same two pans for washing and scalding, the same cake of soap, and the same dish towel to dry the dishes off at the end. The only difference is the man that pours the cool water into the basin to make it more comfortable for your hands. 

“I’ll be out back,” he tells you, before grabbing you around the waist and pulling you in close to press a close-mouthed kiss to the side of your head. You only scrunch your nose a little. “When you’re done, come get me. Got business in town.”

“Why do you need me to come with you?” you ask, lips cresting into a pout without a thought. You’d never considered yourself a bellyacher, but it’s almost second nature around John. “I can…I can stay and clean the house.”

“You saying I keep a messy home?” John asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You look pointedly down at the dirt he tracked into the kitchen after fetching the bucket of water from the well. “It could do with a spit shine.” 

That gets a laugh out of him, a bellow from deep in his belly. It shakes you to your bones. 

“Darling, I’ll be honest with you,” he says, turning you to face him before folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t trust you not to bolt like a runaway horse, and you’ll only wind up putting yourself in danger if you try to make a run for it out here.”

That expression makes your stomach twist. “Good to know you think of your wife as some scared filly.” 

“You talk a whole lot for a woman who’s been over my knee. Do we need to repeat that?”

When his tone goes stern, you lose the wedging piece of candor keeping you upright. Eyes widen and then narrow. He’s been patient despite your loose tongue, but when that patience slips, you can see the steel underneath his gentle exterior. It’s the true root of him. 

You clam up under his stare, sullen and begrudging. Smooth your dress down to have something to do with your hands. You’ve forgotten your place again. Side-stepped it out of intimacy or misplaced trust or naivety or forgetting, again, for the umpteenth time, that the world is not a place for women that open their mouths. So you keep it shut, trap every festering word behind your teeth. 

He must not like something he sees painted on your face because his brows draw closer together, frustration brewing anew in his eyes. The longer you stay quiet, the more irritated he grows, his nostrils flaring wide. 

“See that you come get me as soon as everything’s squared away in here,” John bites out, pointing a single, blunt finger at you. “Else I’ll come get you myself.”

And we wouldn’t want that, you think, surly. You hope it swims across your eyes. Blooms on your face. Perhaps it does. 

The lines around his mouth and eyes grow more defined when he smiles. His whole mustache moves with his smile, every part of his face expressing his satisfaction. It’s beyond infuriating. He taps you on the nose with his knuckle before leaving out the backdoor, not sparing you a backward glance. You nearly shake with indignation. 

It’s hard not to watch him out in the paddock while drying the dishes though, not with him set against the gilded sun. You inch the curtain slightly open, just enough of a gap to peer through. The Stetson shadows his face when he tilts his head up towards the sky, the hard edge of his jaw the only thing that meets your gaze. It’s not the first time you’ve seen a man out in the fields or pastures, but most of those have been at a distance, removed. Glimpsed briefly through the window while your train barreled on past acres of farmland. 

John cycles through the morning tasks of guiding the horses into the paddock by a lead fixed to their halter, replenishing the food trough, and fetching more water from the well to fill the water trough. His horses are striking in the sheer size of them; muscled shoulders and legs, and well-padded flanks. Most of the horses you’ve seen out west haven’t seemed nearly as well-fed, many whittled down to rib and hip bone. 

It says something about him, but you’re not ready to confront exactly what. You turn your attention back to the dishes, scrubbing the last of the dried butter and eggs at the bottom of the pan. It takes a little extra grit, but cleaning is a familiar chore—it’s one you’ve done all your life, what got you into this mess in the first place. 

You don’t like what you find when you finally venture out of the house to track him down. 

“I’m not getting on that thing.” 

You put your veritable foot down with that, arms straight and stiff by your sides, more out of worry than annoyance. You do also give a little stomp for good measure, but you’ll chalk that up to reflexes should John inquire. 

He doesn’t. Just stares down at you with unimpressed green eyes that haunt your days and nights now. Tells you without telling you that you’ll get on that horse, willing or not. 

It’s not for a lack of beauty that you can’t quite shake the nervousness they elicit in you. Buttercup, the one that John saddled up and now waits patiently to be mounted, keeps her head low as if sensing your disquiet, curiosity glimmering in her coal black eyes. Not even the animal curiosity of is this a friend or foe, but the curiosity that comes with pure trust, almost intelligible that way. 

John runs his hand down her smooth, buttery flank. “Did you enjoy yesterday’s walk?”

“I didn’t hate it.” Truth be told, you’d hardly been of a mind to notice it at all. Though your legs still ache from the walk back to John’s house, the walk itself had not seemed especially grueling in the moment. The mind can put aside quite a bit when it has something else to focus on. 

“Well, I’m not too keen to repeat it.” He leaves it at that, tightening a strap on Buttercup’s saddle in such a purposeful way that your shoulders tense. 

“I could meet you there,” you say, a touch desperately. Your stomach turns when you think about hoisting yourself up onto Buttercup’s saddle. It doesn’t seem possible. It’s not something you’ve ever done or ever considered doing. You remember horror stories of stableboys back home trampled under their hooves and stomped to death, kicks so powerful that they could break a fully grown man’s ribs or cave in his face. 

“My wife isn’t gonna wander into town by her lonesome like some vagrant,” John says disdainfully, almost scoffing. Insulted by the whole idea. “And you’re sure as hell not staying here alone, darlin’.”

“Well, figure something else out because I am not getting up on that thin—” You cut off on a yelp when he circles around you and abruptly lifts you up. Your head rushes at the sudden motion, legs flailing beneath you. 

“Quit squirmin’ like a damn barn cat. Little hellion,” John grits out, guiding your heel into the stirrup. “C’mon, you’re just side saddling, so you only need your butt on the saddle.” When he sets you down lightly onto the saddle, you stop wiggling around, acutely aware of the thousand pound horse beneath you. “There we go—that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” 

“I hate this,” you hiss, fingers clamped tight over the pommel. 

“Aw, darlin’, don’t go insulting Buttercup like that,” John chuckles, replacing your foot in the stirrup with his own.

You sit there stiff as a board, perched precariously on the saddle as he hoists himself up behind you. His sheer proximity doesn’t register right away. You’re too concerned with the moving beast under you, its ribs expanding and contracting with each breath. Unlike you, John is more than comfortable sitting astride the horse, not a smidgeon of tension in his body. You suck in a horrified breath when you feel him readjust himself before settling down more comfortably. 

He reaches around you to grab the reins, a sharp whistle signaling the horse to take her first stride forward, looping around the side of the house. Even the slow trot threatens to buck you off at first. You lurch forward with each step, certain that you’ll slip right off the saddle and onto the dusty ground below until John loops an arm around your waist and pulls you to his chest.

You grow stiffer in his arms somehow. Despite sleeping in the same bed the night before and sharing far too many kisses for your comfort or virtue, being pressed up tight against a man never gets easier. Perhaps if you’d been married for longer than a single day you’d be more at ease with the notion, but as of yet, it comes as a shock to the senses every time. 

You carefully avoid the thought that other married women wouldn’t be still in possession of their maidenhead so many hours after their wedding night. That’s none of your business.

The two of you navigate into town at a slow canter, allowing you to gradually acclimatize to the gait of a horse. Part of you remembers riding horses when you were younger, but that was a lifetime ago, long enough to shake the memory from your muscles. These days, you can barely remember the hands holding you steady, the ones that would’ve lifted you up onto the horse and helped you back down. Those people are faceless in your memories. 

John stays silent at your back, only tightening his hand around your hip when you slip the slightest bit when Buttercup picks up the pace, heading towards the familiar sight of the sheriff’s office. It draws a quick squawk out of you, neatly masked by a fake cough. His chuckle at that rumbles through you, clearly not buying it. Another lesson in humiliation. 

You manage not to flail as much when he gets off the horse and helps you down, even though you’re still not used to being manhandled so, particularly not in front of the townsfolk milling about and glancing over with undisguised interest. 

“Are you working today?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you while John ties Buttercup’s lead to the post outside the sheriff’s office. 

“Don’t exactly get many days off when you’re the only sheriff in the county,” John replies. “We’ve got a few deputies in every town, and a couple here, but it ain’t an easy gig.”

“How many deputies have you got here?” 

“Just the three. Simon, John, and Kyle. You met Simon the other day.” 

His name draws up the faint memory of the masked deputy from your wedding ceremony. “I remember,” you say flatly. There’s no lost love between you and anyone involved with that sham of a wedding. 

“Don’t hold that against him,” John smiles. “He’s a good ole boy. Can’t fault a man for following the boss’ orders.”

Watch me. You glance away lest he see that thought etched across your face. 

The town is bustling with activity this late in the morning. Steps and floorboards creak under the weight of boots coming and going. A man going by in a horse-and-buggy whistles sharply when he cracks the reins, his horse puffing out a low, frustrated grunt. 

Men hustle past you decked out in leather chaps and waistcoats, spats covering the half-boots of those not decked out in tall, spurred cowboy boots. There are far less women scampering about town than men, particularly not so close to the sheriff’s office, but you keep finding your eyes drawn to them. 

John grips you under the arm and swiftly pulls you back when you narrowly sidestep a mound of horse droppings left uncovered in the middle of the road. The smell only hits you a second later. 

“Well, that’s lovely,” you remark, deadpanned, putting your foot down deliberately a good distance away. 

“Wouldn’t need to complain about it if you just watched your step.”

“You know, this really would’ve been a nice day to just stay home,” you mutter, chastised enough not to say something sharp in return. 

While the smell makes your nose wrinkle, you have to admit that the air here is far less pungent than back home. In general, this bucolic town is far more pleasant in certain respects than the city you’d left behind in a haste. 

“Where do you want me to wait for you?” you ask, turning to face him now at the front steps of the sheriff’s office.

He frowns. “Wait for me?”

“While you work, I mean. Surely you don’t mean for me to sit inside all day twiddling my thumbs while you work.”

His mustache twitches with a smile. “Thought I’d show you around first—get you acquainted with the locals.”

The idea of mingling with the townsfolk doesn’t appeal to you, but you also can’t think of a good enough reason to refuse. Especially with the curious glances already being sent your way. You duck your head to stare down at your boots when you spot a group of other women clustered together and whispering to each other, their eyes trained on you. Somehow you’ve gone from being furniture in a room to being a source of local gossip, and it’s almost hard to believe that you miss being ignored. 

When you look back up at John, you find him still staring down at you, waiting patiently. Up close, the sunlight almost turns patches of his beard gold; he has a smattering of moles across his face, not the blush of freckles but rather a few dark spots by his nose. Aside from the tuft of hair under his bottom lip, his chin is mostly bare, and when he smiles, his whole face moves with it. You have to blink to snap yourself out of it. 

Your upper lip curls involuntarily when you say, “So you want to help me make friends?” 

“Well, seeing as I know most of ‘em, figured I’d be a help.”

“The job’s really not all that busy then, huh?” You really wish you could learn to shut your mouth, since it keeps getting you in trouble, but the barbs roll off your tongue so naturally. Luckily, it seems to amuse him now more than it did early this morning. 

“Guess life isn’t as exciting ‘round here as it is back in the city, but it has its days,” John chuckles. “Now come on; I’ll give you the tour.”

For some reason, you hadn’t pictured the town being quite so big, but during your walk, you realize you’ve vastly underestimated the true size of it. Though not anywhere near as ostentatious as the cities back east, the sheer breadth of it eclipses anything from back home. It’s spread out on an incomparable scale, the mountains in the background stretching out along the horizon like the skeletal remains of a giant long since dead and decayed.  

It’s not the ramshackle town you envisioned when you stepped off the train the other day, despite the wooden facades and their brightly painted signs. You almost wish you had more time just to admire the craftsmanship, but John leads you from store to store like he’s on a mission.

He seems most interested in towing you around like some prized mare, all trussed up and clean from your bath the night before. You meet so many people that their names and faces all begin to blur together. The worst offense of all is that it makes you lean on John for support, looking up at him again and again for reassurance whenever you can’t answer a question or your answer triggers a moment of awkward silence. 

Those moments come aplenty too. The few people nosey enough to ask you about your life back in the city find themselves on the butt end of a cheerfully delivered lie from John. It unnerves you at first, seeing how comfortable he is with lying. He doesn’t even hesitate for a second when recounting your previous life as a schoolteacher in Connecticut prior to your engagement.

Perhaps it’s not a lie though. You don’t know the extent to which he and his original betrothed corresponded. Certainly not enough for him to suspect you of not being her, but maybe she’d spun him that story. Or maybe it had been the truth. All this time you’d thought that John had been swindled by some con artist using desperate men to fund her lifestyle, but maybe somewhere between here and Connecticut, there’s an unmarked grave with the corpse of the woman that John had intended to marry. 

That makes you feel guilty somehow, like you’ve taken something not meant for you. Even if you hadn’t wanted it—in fact, been forced into taking it. 

You swallow that thought when John leads you into the general store. Your eyes bug at the sight of a blonde haired woman in khaki cloth knickerbockers stocking the shelves, who turns at the sound of the door creaking open, the sharp look on her face melting away at the sight of John.

The warmth in her face infuriates you more than it should. You have no right to feel this way—or, some right, but you resent the fact that you do as well. 

“Hi John,” she greets. Her voice is deeper than you anticipated, springtime crisp like a babbling brook. 

“Laswell,” John greets, scooping his arm around your side until he can palm the side of your hip, dragging you in close. You stumble into him, catching yourself with a hand on his chest. Your neck and face go hot when Laswell’s eyes turn on you, curiosity glinting in them. 

“Your lady finally showed up then,” she surmises. “I’ll be honest, I was starting to think you made her up. Told the boys to think about forcing you into an early retirement.”

John huffs at that. His fingers tighten at your waist when Laswell says your lady, as if the words alone make it fact. Speak it into being. The metal burns against your ring finger. In a sense, it is fact, despite the subterfuge. You wonder if it would hold up in court, but out here, it’s real enough. 

“Well, she’s very real, as you can tell.” He gives you a little shake with the hand on your waist. “Say hi, darlin’.”

If looks could kill, yours would be pit-viper venom. You’d leave behind a festering puncture mark and a body in the throes of envenomation. “Excuse me?”

Your attitude might come at a cost this time because he looks unamused at your back talk in front of an audience. “Darlin’.” It’s said like a warning. 

You bite your tongue instead of lashing out. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Kate Laswell; I own this little shop,” she says, introducing herself and stepping forward to hold out her hand. You have to step forward to take it, pulling you out of John’s arms. It feels familiar being on your own, certainly more natural than being constantly at John’s side the way you have for almost two days now. It’s also a bit cold after having John’s warmth at your back or side at all times. 

There’s a moment when you realize that Kate is the first person you’ve had to introduce yourself to, John having introduced you to everyone else you’d come across. It hovers on the tip of your tongue when you realize that you could just say your real name, and you find yourself torn between setting it free and the odd fear of John’s reaction. 

You chicken out at the last second, giving Kate the same name as the one John introduced you by to everyone else in town. 

“He might growl like a bear, but you’ll get used to that,” she says, winking.

You frown. Awfully familiar talk for someone who isn’t his wife. Why should she know that? 

You make yourself push that thought away, reminding yourself again that it doesn’t matter. It’s none of your concern. 

“He’s been a gentleman,” you croak instead, smile so thin that it might as well be a grimace. 

A shout from the bar across the street startles you, drawing your attention away from the conversation. John stills too. A series of raised voices puts him on alert, and then someone inside the bar must fire a gun because the violent crack of one makes you scream, the noise pulled involuntarily from your chest. 

“Stay here,” John growls, his pistol already drawn. He’s out the door before you can respond, darting across the street towards the bar and shouldering the door open so hard that it rattles in its frame. You watch everything happen through the window of the general store with your heart in your throat. 

“Good Lord,” you whisper, hand over your mouth. Kate stands beside you in a similar manner, her eyebrows pinched in concern. 

The thought doesn’t even occur to you that now would be the perfect time to make a break for it, with John busy across the street. Your feet are rooted in place; you doubt you’d be able to take so much as a single step towards the door. 

There’s precious little that you can see through the grit-lined bar windows, not as dusty and dirty as they are, but you can hear the commotion from inside. Raised voices and the sound of breaking glass. It makes you flinch, heart galloping at an even faster pace. Like harness horses on the Freehold Raceway. It’s not long before you see a large, masked man hightailing it down the road towards the bar, dust clouding around his boots with each heavy step. 

You recognize him almost instantly as the man from your wedding, the one that signed your marriage license. John’s man—Simon. He nearly takes the bar door off its hinges when he throws it open, barely in there a second before he and John come out each with a man in hand, both already handcuffed and looking roughed up They drag them stumbling down the dirt road towards the sheriff’s office, Simon half-dragging another man whose white button-down is slowly saturating with red blood oozing out of a gunshot wound in his belly.

“Shouldn’t they call a doctor for that man?” you ask Kate in a frantic voice, whipping around to face her. 

She nods. “They probably will once they’ve got the four of them locked up. Doctor probably heard that anyway—he’ll be on his way, I bet.”

“On his way already?”

“There’s only one doctor around here. And not much else sounds like a gunshot.”

“Does that happen a lot around here?” You don’t know why the thought makes you nervous, but there’s a cramp in your belly and a sweat building up on the back of your neck and your hands itch to grab something. When you swallow, it almost doesn’t go down. 

“It’s not uncommon. I reckon it’s not something you’re used to?”

You purse your lips. “I’ve seen a dead body before.” You don’t know why that comes out so defensively, like a slight that’s been levied against you. There’s no easy way to dispel the myth in everyone’s mind that you come from a life of comfort and ease, with delicate hands fit for delicate work. You curl your hands into fists at the thought, conscious of the old scars and calluses built up over years of scrubbing and cleaning. If she were to look down, she wouldn’t see the well-kept hands of a lady. 

When Kate quirks an eyebrow, you realize that your response had nothing to do with her question. “Well, look at you.”

When John and Simon disappear into the jailhouse, the door swinging shut behind them, you sway on your feet for a second, feeling oddly unbalanced. Something about the sight of the man’s blood leaves you feeling woozy, taking the chair that Kate offers you when she sees the way you rock back on your heels. 

“Let me get you something to drink,” Kate offers, brows now furrowed sympathetically at the pathetic sight you must be. “I’m sure you got a little fright thinking of your husband facing down a man with a gun, but I’m afraid that comes with marrying a sheriff. There’s danger everywhere, you know.”

What you don’t say is that your lightheadedness came not just from the sight of the man with the blood leaking from a wound in his stomach, but the grim look on your husband’s face as he carted away the man responsible, eyes hard as steel. No sympathy for the man in his hands. Only another criminal to be tossed away in a jail cell. The punishment for making another man bleed.

Your hands shake in your lap, but you don’t say that. Instead, you smile weakly and take the glass of water from her hands when she comes back from filling it at the sink. “You’re right. Just a little fright.”

[adieutristana]

Helloooo can you do a Jinx x femreader where they were dying Isha’s hair? The reader’s kinda just watching everything unfold and realising how much she loves Jinx when she sees her around Isha

of course! thank you for requesting :) i had a lot of fun writing this, honestly needed this after the events of act 3

summary: scenario of fem! reader watching jinx with isha.

characters included: jinx (romantic), isha (platonic/familial)

tags/warnings: fluff, mother/mother/daughter dynamic, spoilers for arcane s2 (act ii specifically).

men dni.

"hey, stop moving!" jinx playfully scolded isha, earning a giggle from the little girl. she shook her head, giving a wide smile to your girlfriend. "come on, i can't do this if you don't stay still."

jinx already has isha in a makeshift, miniature version of her own outfit which she employed your help to make. despite all of jinx's mechanical expertise, she somehow can't sew to save her life. just a few minutes prior, she used various shades of eyeshadow to draw on her tattoos. all the while, she strategically turned isha away from the mirror. the reveal had to be a surprise.

"pass me the hair dye, toots, would ya?" jinx asked, shooting a glance at you over her shoulder. you grabbed the bottle from a box of (stolen) cosmetics, passing it to her. she quickly snatched it up, and shot you a toothy grin as a silent thanks. she sat isha down in a paint-covered bathtub, jinx settling down directly behind her.

she got to work with isha's hair, running a brush through it quickly, then dipping a frayed paintbrush into the bottle to slather blue dye on isha's hair. isha jumped a bit at the cold sensation at first, but quickly relaxed. "yeah.. feels weird, i bet. i'll be done soon, 'kay?" jinx soothed, her hands moving swiftly in the girl's hair. even with a brush, she managed to get blue dye on her hands while making sure each of the strands were evenly coated.

all the while, you sat cross-legged on the floor besides the box of assorted items, watching the spectacle unfold in front of you. you had never seen jinx be so.. gentle with someone aside from yourself. so playful, so free of inhibitions or anxiety. it was endearing, truly.

you weren’t just seeing jinx, you were seeing powder shining through.

you couldn’t help but smile, jinx seemingly oblivious to you at present. she finished coating isha’s hair with dye, and you chuckled to yourself at the sight of isha’s usually fluffy hair suddenly so flat. it was cute. jinx looked over at you quickly, and beamed. she looked so happy.

god, you loved her. this could be something, right here. you, jinx, and isha. a family of sorts.

“i’ll be done soon, babe, okay?”

“okay, jinx. do you want help?”

“hmm…” jinx replied, her nose crinkling and putting her dye-stained hands on her hips. she wracked her brain for a second, pursing her lips, clearly wanting to involve you in this more than you already were. “you can dry her hair off, and help me with the big reveal!” she smiled.

you nodded, giving a mock-salute, much to jinx’s amusement. “oh, cut that out.” she playfully rolled her eyes. jinx gently guided isha out of the bathtub, and instructed her to tilt her head back, so that she could rinse her hair. the water ran blue, the little girl’s eyes slipping shut and a slow exhale escaping her.

you grabbed a towel from a makeshift shelf, and plopped it onto isha’s head. she squealed, suddenly unable to see, and giggled as you hastily dried her hair off. “all dry soon, kid. you’ve got some thick hair!” you observed. isha either didn’t hear you, or didn’t know what that meant. jinx just stood behind the two of you, trying to hold in her laughter. jinx crouched down beside you to braid the girl’s hair, her fingers still moving while she pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. oh, jinx.

you lead isha to jinx’s mirror by her shoulders, jinx’s slender fingers covering her eyes. when you got to a stool, you lightly grabbed isha by her sides and lifted her, setting her down in front of the mirror. all the while, jinx’s hands were still covering her eyes, giggling.

jinx looked over at you, seemingly waiting for the okay to reveal isha’s makeover. you put your hands atop jinx’s, both obscuring isha’s vision even more. jinx’s hands were cold and calloused, but there wasn’t a feeling you loved more than those hands.

she quirked an eyebrow, those big, pink eyes that you loved so much looking straight at you, and you nodded. “you ready, kid?” you asked, and isha began frantically nodding. she was practically bursting at the seams with excitement.

you and your girlfriend both lifted your hands. “ta-da!” jinx exclaimed, smiling ear-to-ear. the pure surprise and wonder on isha’s face was incredible, examining herself in the shattered glass, toying with the small braids jinx had given her. isha looked back at you, trying to contain her joy.

“you’re lucky. i didn’t get to much of this with my older sis,” jinx began, looking down at the girl imitating her. pretending to shoot her zapper, making little ‘pew’ noises. it was adorable, and your heart swelled in your chest at the sight. “she was always… punching stuff.” her dark lips pursed, and you stepped forward to gently grasp jinx’s hand, before ruffling isha’s now-blue hair.

“no, but you still turned out pretty cool, love.” you remarked, much to jinx’s amusement. she shot you a little smile, lovingly squeezing your hand. “you flatter me.” she said, before closing the gap between the two of you.

pressing a soft, warm kiss to your lips, now intertwining your fingers. it was peaceful. it was sweet. you loved her-

and you heard isha groan in disgust to the side of you, breaking away to see the girl covering her eyes. jinx just giggled, gave your hand a final squeeze, and joked, “kissing, gross! i know, right?”