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charmandabear · 27 days

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Office Hours - Chapter Nine

Summary:

After getting some guidance from Shadowheart and Karlach, you and Astarion sit down for a much needed conversation.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.9k Tags/Warnings: none (for this chapter, see AO3 for a full list)

It's happened. I've left the realm of vampire smut and gone full-on vampire romance. Go check out Zaria for more amazing screenshots of the professor.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

There’s a knock on your office door as you’re packing up, getting ready to leave. Your heart skips a beat before you remember that he’s not usually one to knock. You look up and see Shadowheart in your doorway, long silver braid swinging down her back. You eye her suspiciously.

“It’s an awfully long walk from the Divinity School...” you say slowly, your tone playfully accusatory. She pretends to be affronted, holding her hand to her chest.

“How dare you, can I not drop by my best friend’s office at the end of the day?” she says with an artificial gasp.

“And just maybe sneak a peek at the hot TD in the process?” you smirk at her and she flashes you a cheeky smile.

“I mean if we happen to wander past the set... design.. workshop on the way to your car, I wouldn’t say no,” she says in a sing-songy voice, and you laugh at her attempt to correctly name the location where Karlach works.

“The scene shop is in the literal opposite direction, but we can pretend like it’s not,” you quip and gesture to the chair in front of your desk. “Sit, I’m just gonna be a minute longer.” She daintily perches on the arm of the chair while her eyes scan the various show posters on the wall.

“Ooh, Venus in Fur, what’s that one about?” she asks innocently and you scoff as you slip your laptop into your bag.

“Don’t be coy, Hallowleaf. I want details. What happened the other night with Karlach?”

She fiddles with the end of her braid and tries to hide her smile. “Nothing too exciting,” she sheepishly admits. You swing your bag over your shoulder and smugly narrow your eyes.

“Mmm-hmm. Well let’s go casually head over to the other side of the building, away from the parking lot.” You try to suppress your shit-eating grin as much as you can, but you still see the tips of Shadowheart’s ears tinge pink.

The two of you walk across the lobby of the theater and into the backstage area towards the scene shop. You pass through the wide double doors and see Karlach sitting on a stool, elbow resting on her knee, while she talks to Fytz, the shop supervisor. When Karlach spots you, she puts her arm up and waves.

“Hiya, soldier! Nice of you to visit!” She clears her throat in an attempt to sound cool and disaffected as she adds, “Hey there, Shads. Good to see you again.” You hear a little giggle escape Shadowheart’s throat that you know she will absolutely deny if you bring it up later.

“Hey Karlach, Fytz. How is the build for the new play going? What’s the name of the playwright again?”

“Barcus Wroot. The set has been a nightmare to put together, we’ve never had to deal with so much welding,” Fytz says with a heavy sigh, jokingly wiping sweat from her brow.

“But man is that little freak a riot,” Karlach adds with a bellowing laugh. “He’s been great to work with, I’m glad we chose him for the new play slot.”

“I’m so excited to see it. Shade, you should come with us to opening night,” you say, turning to Shadowheart. “It’s an absurdist comedy called The Tinker, and it’s fucking hysterical.”

“Yeah, you should come with us!” Karlach squeals enthusiastically.

“Sounds like a lovely time,” Shadowheart says coyly in an attempt to not give away her hand, but you’re fairly certain that her feelings for Karlach could be witnessed from outer space.

“Oh, and soldier, you never filled us in on what happened with Dammon! I saw you two leave together,” she adds suggestively, and the guilty pang returns. You mentally acknowledge it and return your focus to the conversation.

“It’s far less interesting than you think, but maybe this should be discussed over drinks instead,” you say with a smirk. “Fytz, would you like to join us?”

“Oh, thank you for the offer, but I shouldn’t. I’ve got the feller and a little one to get back to,” she replies genially. Shadowheart frowns and fiddles with her braid.

“I’d love to go, but my bank account would be none too pleased with another trip to the Elfsong,” she says, her voice brimming with regret.

“Well I’ve got some brewskies at my place if you don’t mind sitting on the floor. I’m still waiting for my couch to be delivered,” Karlach adds brightly, and you feel Shadowheart’s energy change very quickly.

“That sounds fine!” she responds almost instantaneously, and you try not to giggle. She hates beer, and you can’t exactly picture her sitting on the floor.

“Great!” Karlach beams and hops off the stool, sending it scooting backwards with a metal screech. “I’ll text you the address,” she adds to you, then shoots a quick wink at Shadowheart, causing her to flush a deep pink.

***

This is your first time at Karlach’s, and you’re surprised by how quaint her house is. She lives in a little cottage outside of the city with an overgrown garden out front. When you and Shadowheart approach the door, you hear a deep woof from inside even before you ring the bell.

“No, Clive, get back!” Karlach’s voice rises above the din of the dog’s barks. She opens the door a crack, clearly blocking the creature behind her. “I hope you’re okay with dogs,” she shouts. You can feel Shadowheart stiffen; she had a nasty run in with a wolf as a kid, and large dogs still make her nervous. You surreptitiously grab her hand and give it a quick squeeze.

The two of you slide through the narrow opening to keep Clive from running outside. His appearance surprises you; a dark brown chow chow, at first glance you almost think he’s a small bear. He’s jumping up on both of you excitedly and Shadowheart nervously takes a step back. Karlach notices her apprehension and sharply commands Clive to sit with a snap of her fingers.

“Oi! Clive!” she barks at him, and he immediately settles down and stares at you with black beady eyes, tongue lolling out of his mouth happily. “He’s very friendly, he just gets excited to meet new people,” she adds in apology.

“Gee, I wonder where he picked that up from?” you tease, and Karlach throws her head back with a laugh.

“Go on into the living room, I’ll grab us some drinks. Shads, do you want me to lock him up?” She checks in with Shadowheart, her brow furrowing with concern.

“No, no, don’t worry about me!” she squeaks out. Then, after taking a moment to compose herself, she continues, “I’ll be fine if he continues to sit nicely like that.”

“Y’hear that, Clive?” Karlach addresses the dog and he looks back at her blankly, not a single thought between his fuzzy ears. “Ya gotta sit nicely or else the pretty lady won’t come back. Oh and Shads, go ahead and grab a dining room chair if you don’t want to get dog hair all over that cute dress.” Karlach flashes a toothy grin and Shadowheart responds with a look that almost makes you feel like you’re intruding on a private moment.

You awkwardly clear your throat and they both jump slightly, almost like they had forgotten about you entirely. You head into the living room, sitting on the round orange and yellow rug beneath the coffee table. Shadowheart follows and grabs one of the mismatched wooden chairs at the dining room table, bringing it over to where you’re sitting.

“Gods Shade, you must be down real bad, you don’t even like beer,” you whisper, keeping your voice low so Karlach won’t hear you in the kitchen a room over. She shushes you with her hand, nevertheless.

“I’m always willing to try new things,” she responds haughtily, but her wrinkled nose gives her away.

“At least you can maintain your dignity and not sit on the floor,” you tease, shoving her knee.

“Hey, I’m a big fan of sitting on the floor. Picnics? Wasting away the hours in a little garden? I’m just not now, because,” she hesitates, eyes darting to Clive, who is still sitting obediently by the door.

Karlach returns with three unlabeled bottles and places them down on the table. You and Shadowheart each take one, and she eyes the dark brown glass warily.

“My friend Aradin makes these in his basement. Well, ‘friend’ might be pushing it, he’s a bit of a twat. But I’ll be damned if he doesn’t make a good craft beer,” Karlach says with a laugh and holds out her bottle to toast. The three of you clink and you take a sip. It’s dark and sweet with a rich finish. Shadowheart takes the smallest of sips and tries to mask her disgust with a smile. Karlach either doesn’t notice, or pretends not to.

“So soldier, fill us in, what happened?” She curls one leg beneath her and rests her drink on her other knee, leaning forward excitedly. You shake your head, disappointed that you’re about to dash her dreams.

“I mean, literally nothing. We kissed, I freaked out, and he drove me home. I feel bad, too, he’s such a cutie and I feel like I led him on.” You frown, his words still echoing in your head. It’s not manipulative to not know what you want.

“Oh, he’s a big boy, he’ll get over it. He certainly doesn’t have a lack of suitors banging down his door,” Karlach says with a laugh. Shadowheart puts her beer on the table and crosses her legs, clasping her hands together around her knee.

“What freaked you out, was it Astarion?” she asks, her lips pursed. You take a big sip to avoid answering the question right away.

“Yeah. It still felt unresolved with him, and that wouldn’t have been fair to either of them. Any of us, to be honest.” You fidget with a loose thread in the spiral rug and you can still feel Shadowheart’s gaze boring into you.

“And now?” she asks pointedly, and you respond with a noncommittal shrug.

“We talked. He apologized. Now I just need to figure some things out,” you reply vaguely. Shadowheart lets out a cackle.

“He owes you so much more than just an apology after the shit that he’s pulled,” she sneers and Karlach snickers.

“A boatload of flowers, at least, and unlimited foot massages,” she says with a nod, taking a sip of her beer.

“I mean yes, he did more than just apologize,” you say, shaking your head. “We talked and realized we weren’t as much on the same page as we thought we were. He thought we were playing a game, we just didn’t actually talk about it beforehand.”

“Seems like a pretty fucking important step, if you ask me,” Shadowheart snarls, and Karlach’s eyes flit over to her, the corner of her lip tugging upwards.

“Is it a game you’d wanna play if you were in on it?” Karlach asks, tilting her head. You let out a heavy sigh.

“That’s the thing, yes,” you say despondently.

“Then why d’you sound so sad about it?” Karlach presses and you curl your knees into your chest.

At some point in the conversation, Clive pads over and sits between you and Shadowheart, the picture of perfect behavior. She doesn’t even register that he’s near her - she’s too focused on you.

“I guess,” you start, scraping your nail along some residual glue on the bottle from the previous label. “I’m working on accepting this new part of me. This thing about me that he discovered before I did.”

“What, that you like it a little rough?” Karlach asks with a salacious wink, and Shadowheart picks up her bottle again to hide her reddening face behind it. Clive shuffles over to her and rests his chin on her lap. She absentmindedly scratches behind his round, bear-like ear.

“I mean sure, if you want to be crass,” you mumble, still slightly embarrassed.

“Wait, but hold on,” Shadowheart interjects, waving the hand holding the bottle. “What about the potion he slipped into your food?” Karlach’s jaw drops.

“Soldier, he spiked your food?” She sounds horrified, and you wonder why it didn’t upset you as much as it probably should have.

“Listen, I know it sounds bad, but I don’t think it was that sinister. It was a charm person potion, which to my understanding isn’t super potent,” you say as an excuse, but the words ring hollow even to your own ears. You’re not sure you fully understand the effects yourself.

“And what does it do, exactly? I can never keep track of these new potions they keep coming out with,” Karlach asks, and you pull out your phone. You type ‘effects of charm person potion’ into Google and look at the results.

Rhetsim’s Charm Person Potion: Instantly make yourself irresistible to anyone! Subdue any who might hold hostility toward you and make yourself just a dash more charming to them. Effects last for one hour. Potential side effects include dizziness, nausea, and the drinker might know they’ve been charmed after the effects wear off.

You frown at your phone, possibly even more confused than ever.

“It seems like the primary effect is to make the drinker... less hostile? I had never shown him any hostility - well, at least not after the first time we slept together.” You chew on your lip, and Shadowheart scoffs.

“Come off it, Tav, you’re constantly hostile towards him,” she cackles and you scowl.

“He still could’ve just talked to me first,” you grumble, unwilling to admit that she’s right. Karlach and Shadowheart speak over each other in enthusiastic agreement.

“Oh absolutely, 100%, he definitely should have.”

“Besides, what kind of damage could I possibly do? Look at me, I’m not very threatening.” You gesture at your 5’2” frame and Karlach laughs.

“Anyone could be threatening enough with a stake,” Shadowheart shrugs and takes a sip of the beer before remembering she doesn’t like it with a face.

“Sorry, what?” Karlach’s mouth is agape, and Shadowheart looks at you apologetically.

“Shit, sorry, do people not know?”

“I genuinely have no idea, I don’t know why it took me so long to get it. I feel like it’s pretty obvious the second you notice the signs,” you laugh. It’s not like he works very hard to hide the bite mark on his neck.

“So Cardigan’s a vampire... huh, I feel like that explains a lot,” Karlach says and you can see her mentally cataloging the same things you did when you first found out. “I guess I can’t blame him for being cautious. We can’t help who we are. Or what’s been done to us.” Karlach’s eyes grow glassy and suddenly she’s very far away. Clive leaves his post at Shadowheart’s side and immediately goes over to Karlach, licking her face. She comes back to reality and laughs into his fur, giving him chin skritches.

“So what’s next for you two?” Karlach asks, setting her beer on the table so she can pet Clive with both hands. “You both want to get freaky, but you just need to talk more?” Shadowheart makes a face of distaste.

“I mean what do you two actually know about each other? How many conversations have you had that weren’t just foreplay?” she asks, and you open your mouth to protest, but quickly close it again.

She’s right. You can’t think of a single conversation that you’ve had with him that wasn’t brimming with sexual tension. The closest you’ve gotten was when you taught his class, but even then you only kept it in check for the sake of the students.

“Quick, what’s the unsexiest date you can possibly think of?” you ask suddenly.

“The museum?” Karlach asks, and Shadowheart looks at her coquettishly.

“I don’t know, I think the museum is pretty romantic,” she says, her voice bordering on a purr. Karlach’s ears flush a violent purple and you clear your throat for the second time that night to remind them of your presence.

“Maybe bowling?” Shadowheart suggests, completely disaffected by the puddle she just reduced Karlach into.

“That’s not a bad idea,” you muse. “It would help if you two were there. Then you can also give me your more candid opinions,” you offer, and Karlach pulls herself together.

“Ooh, group date! I can invite Wyll!” she says excitedly.

“I don’t want him to feel like a fifth wheel,” you say, scrunching your nose as you think. “I suppose I could invite Gale, that wouldn’t be weird, right?”

“No way, the more the merrier!” Karlach lights up while Shadowheart gives you a tight-lipped look. She knows about the weirdness that Gale has caused in your relationship with Astarion, but she refrains from saying anything, at least for now.

“Gods, I haven’t been bowling in ages,” Karlach says, fully oblivious to the silent exchange between you and Shadowheart.

Your phone lights up with a text from Astarion. Your heart leaps into your throat - you don’t think he’s ever texted you before. Karlach and Shadowheart both crane their necks nosily.

You swipe open your phone to see a picture of His Majesty gnawing on the corner of a heavily scratched and chewed 48 Laws of Power.

-He agrees with you on the merits of this book.

You let out a sudden laugh that causes Clive to jump slightly. You turn your phone around to show them the picture.

“Oh my gods, is that his cat?” Karlach giggles, and Shadowheart rolls her eyes.

“Looks like a weird little rat,” she says, and you protectively take your phone back.

“Shut up, I think he’s cute,” you say defensively.

-Clearly he’s a man of good taste.

“Look at that smile,” Karlach hums, and Shadowheart smirks. You stick your tongue out at them and turn your attention back to your phone. You stare at the brief exchange for a moment, take a breath, then text him again.

-Do you mind if I swing by? I have thoughts too big for text messages.

-Most thoughts are. You’re most welcome to.

“I’m going to head out, I wanna go talk to him before it gets too late,” you tell them, hoisting yourself to stand.

“Aww, c’mon, we’re having a great time!” Karlach whines.

“Yeah, and I haven’t finished my beer,” Shadowheart adds, holding up the full bottle.

“Well, Shads, if you wanna stick around, I can always drive you home later,” Karlach says, her voice heavy with suggestion.

“Alright, alright, I can take a hint,” you laugh, holding up your hands. They both make halfhearted protestations. “Stay safe, you two. Shade, text me when you get home. You know, whenever that might be,” you wink and head out the door. It’s barely closed behind you when you hear the telltale smacks of kissing.

***

You’re unsurprised when he opens the door before you get a chance to knock. Your heart is threatening to jump out of your chest and he’s expecting you. You feel something clench deep in your core when you see him. Hair slightly tousled from a long day, top few buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves rolled up just past the elbows. He looks like he could’ve just stepped off the cover of a GQ magazine.

“Come in,” he waves you inside, and you can see the eviscerated copy of the book still lying on the floor. His Majesty is curled up a few feet away, purring contentedly. You sit on the couch, resisting the urge to curl your knees up into your chest.

“Would you like me to sit beside you, or...?” he asks vaguely, and you gesture to the spot on the couch next to you.

“No, please, sit, it’s your home. You should at least be comfortable,” you laugh without much humor. He sits stiffly, almost like he’s afraid to spook you.

“So what are these ‘big thoughts’ you’re having?” he asks, and you force yourself to look at him, despite your discomfort.

“Being with you feels... different... than anyone else I’ve ever been with,” you begin slowly, and he watches you intently. “And I had a hard time dealing with that. And no matter how good you make me feel, it was outweighed by these feelings of disgust and loathing I had for myself.

“The reason why I was so mad that night after the theatre, besides the fact that it was tailor-made to piss me off-” you throw him an accusatory glance and he shrinks from your gaze. You soften. “Sorry, I-”

“No, don’t apologize,” he says quickly. “Please, go on.” You take a deep breath and continue.

“Because even that was proof that you know me better than I know myself. I couldn’t let myself fully succumb because I was worried about what it would say about me, as a person.

“I’ve never been with someone who is so completely attuned to what my body wants that they know things before I do. And that’s cool! And, like, also terrifying? Almost like there was a conversation happening without me.” Astarion shifts uncomfortably.

“So, anyway...” you finish lamely, not wanting to say anything else before you give him a chance to respond. His red eyes are round and watery, his brow canted upward into an expression of concern. After a moment, he speaks.

“You are the most expressive person I’ve ever met,” he starts quietly, and you almost need to lean forward in order to hear him better. “You wear your heart proudly on your sleeve, and that’s something I admire about you. I’ve never been very good at genuinely expressing emotions, even before...” he trails off, but the meaning is clear. Before he was turned.

“I’ve carefully constructed the persona that I show to the world. Centuries of crafting the person people see me to be so that I’m always in control. And you saw right through that. Immediately. And I believe you hated me because you could see how disingenuous I was at all times.”

“I didn’t hate-” you start to say and he looks at you over the top of his glasses pointedly. “Okay, well. I think that was as much about me as it was about you, if not more.”

“And because I’ve spent so many years desperately trying to control how people see me,” he continues in spite of your interruption, “I find it rather freeing when I have the privilege of controlling you. I’m able to stop worrying about myself for once, and just focus my energy on you.”

His lip quivers and he takes a shaky breath. “That only works, I suppose, if you want me to take control. I thought you did. I’m so deeply sorry.” He looks away from you.

“But that’s the thing,” you place your hand on his chest to call his attention back to you. You feel a flutter of motion, his blood moving slowly through his unbeating heart.

“That’s the thing,” you repeat yourself softly, your gaze fixed on the point of contact. “I did. I do. Want that.” Your eyes flit up to his face. “I’m just... coming to terms with it.”

The two of you sit together for a moment, your hand pressed to his chest, until his skin has absorbed its warmth and they’ve reached the same temperature.

“It’s just nice to not have to think for a bit,” you finally say, pulling your hand back into your lap and he lets out a small shudder at the loss of contact. “To let my brain go blank. To not have to make a decision. To just... be.” The words feel new even to your own ears. Without thinking, you kick off your shoes so you can bring your knees up into your chest.

You look back up at him, your expression suddenly cold and serious.

“But I need to know I can trust you, Astarion.”

The two of you stare at one another for longer than you can count. He finally breaks your trance with a steady nod.

“I understand. And I’m willing to do what it takes to earn that trust.” He hesitates, then takes off his glasses to really look at you. “You... you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

“I do too. More than anything,” you respond quickly, and you see the tension in his brow melt away.

“And maybe what ‘real’ looks like, at least for now,” he says, his voice much more steady, “is to be together without sleeping together, for as long as you need.” You sit back on your heels and chuckle.

“You know, that almost sounds like a challenge,” you say a little breathlessly. You want nothing more than to tear at his button down, for him to flip you on your back and to fuck you mercilessly. But he’s right. If this is going to be real, whatever that means, then you need to discover what the relationship is outside of sex. And more importantly, you need to figure out what exactly it is that you want, and how to communicate it.

“You don’t need to figure it out all on your own, you know,” he says, and you snap your attention back to him.

“You did it again. That thing where you’re basically reading my mind,” you pout slightly, but soften at his sheepish grin.

“I told you, you’re very expressive.”

The two of you sit in silence again, and you wiggle your toes absentmindedly against the goldenrod couch cushion.

“I probably shouldn’t ask if I can kiss you,” you murmur, paraphrasing his words from the other day.

“Whatever it is that you want, darling,” he says, and you look up at him mischievously.

“Well you tell me, you’re the expert. What do I want?” you taunt, feeling emboldened by the conversation. He smiles dangerously. Suddenly his hand is twisted into your hair, holding you but not pulling, and his lips graze the sensitive skin below your ear.

“I can think of a few things, love,” he purrs, his nose tickling your earlobe and his fangs barely scraping your artery. Your breath hitches and you shiver audibly. You let your body arch into him, yearning for contact. He lets out a low chuckle. “But perhaps what you need is a different story.”

He holds your chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger and kisses you gently. Your hands move to cup his face, your left pinky lightly skating over his scar. He breaks the kiss but keeps your face close to his as you steady your breathing.

“I hate it when you’re right,” you rasp in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Something you’ll have to get used to, I’m afraid.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and lets you go. Your mind flits back to the conversation with Shadowheart and Karlach. You need to have an opportunity to get to know him in an environment where you won’t end up like this, barely able to keep your hands off one another.

“Do you want to go bowling?” you ask, and he blinks at the sudden shift in tone.

“What?”

“Bowling. With Shadowheart and Karlach, and some other friends. And me, of course,” you mumble the last part, almost embarrassed by the instinct to clarify.

“I- I suppose. I don’t know if I’ve ever been,” he says with a frown, and you suppress a laugh.

“You’ve never been bowling?” you ask incredulously. He glares at you.

“Can you possibly imagine me in a bowling alley?” he scoffs, and the laughter bubbles out of you. You break down into a fit of giggles at the mental image of someone as refined and sophisticated as Astarion in a dingy, sticky-floored bowling alley.

“Alright, you’ve made your point,” he mutters and playfully pushes your face away. Your giggles eventually subside, and the two of you are back to sitting in slightly awkward silence.

“I should probably leave,” you finally say with a sigh, slipping on your shoes. He nods and stands up to walk you to the door. You linger for a moment longer in the threshold.

“Yes, darling?” he asks as though you have more to say. You do. So much more. But the words are swirling around your head in a jumbled mess, and you couldn’t make sense of them even if you wanted to.

“Nothing. I’m just... thinking.”

“I’ve noticed, you’ve been doing that a lot these days.”

You scrunch your face in annoyance and he smiles. He kisses your forehead again, and you lean into his touch. You look up at him and your breath catches in your throat, and before you can stop yourself you’ve flung your arms around his neck and started kissing him hard. He presses his hand into your lower back and you whimper into his lips. You finally wrench yourself away, panting, and you admire his puffy lips and dazed expression.

“Right. Bowling. I’ll text you,” you say breathlessly.

“Bowling. I... look forward to it.” The lie makes his voice sound stilted. You flash him one last smile and tear yourself away from his doorway before you do something you regret.k

111 notes · View notes

casuallyawkardd · 9 months

Note

hello dear, how are you?, could you write a picture where miguel discovers that you are learning spanish to show that you care about him, if it doesn't go well. thanks for the attention ☺️☺️

After my trip, I'm a little tired and sunburnt, but it was all worth it! Ngl, imma be needing to write something wholesome after the shit I've been writing so here you go 😂😭

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader

Warnings: fluff that is all, also I'm still not fluent in Spanish so feel free to correct grammar/spelling

For Miguel, he thinks you're ignoring him. You're blowing him off to go do something else and when he tries to pry you tell him to 'quit being so nosy.' He's already annoyed, so he doesn't pick up on your teasing tone.

In reality, you've been trying to learn Spanish to surprise him. You don't expect to be fluent anytime soon, but some simple phrases and a few terms of endearment are a good start. Those moments when Miguel is talking to you and thinks you're ignoring him, are actually you listening to your Spanish lessons. Whenever you're 'blowing him off,' you're just sitting in your room practicing your pronunciations.

Lyla catches wind of what you're doing before him, overhearing you at HQ when you thought you had found a quiet place to practice. She even offers to help you out and you gladly take her up on the offer. You had had one too many dreams of the Duolingo owl in the corner of your room as it was. Little do you know that your nightmares only now come to life, though that could just be you being dramatic.

Unlike the little, green owl app, these lessons talk back. Sometimes it feels like she critiques you too harshly, especially when you practice writing in Spanish. You wanted to be able to put cute, little notes around his platform. Her shrill voice reminding you when and where to put the accents on letters and that you have to add upside down exclamation and question marks at the beginning of a sentence wakes you up in the middle of the night. However, Lyla is also extremely helpful at the same time. Teaching you the more 'casual' way to say certain things, as opposed to the generic, robotic responses you had been learning. Even some swear words because why not?

The day finally comes when you're ready to reveal your little surprise. Miguel is reluctant, back to you as you try to get his attention.

"Oh, so now you have free time?"

It's a bit endearing that he missed your presence, you say as much. 'Yo también te extrañé, mi amor.' I missed you too, my love.

His head snaps in your direction, confusion written on his face. Slowly, he steps towards you, eyeing you as if expecting you to say something else. Which you do. 'Quería sorprenderte aprendiendo español. ¿Es eso mala?' I wanted to surprise you by learning Spanish. Is it bad?

Everything clicks into place and he's sighing in relief, grasping you by the upper arms to pull you in for a kiss on the forehead. He holds position, letting the kiss sink in before pulling away, running his hands up and down your arms.

"Agradezco el gesto, de verdad. Gracias amor." I really appreciate the gesture. Thanks love.

You ask why he was giving you the cold shoulder moments ago, Miguel sighing heavily before explaining his side of things. How he had assumed you were ignoring him and that he might've gotten a little bit salty about it. You laugh, realizing your mistake. '¡Soy embarazada!' Miguel's smile drops a little after that, looking like he's trying to keep it just for you.

"Yeah, you definitely have some more practicing to do, cariño."

Tags: @prettylittlebrowngirl @khaleesihavilliard @leahnicole1219 @edgycatx @graysonshaven @qiaipia @3zae-zae3 @melovetitties @jebsoxnoshansk @thedevax @erissco @its-carlerrr @muimui06

#miguel o'hara #reader insert #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara x you #x reader #anon ask #lovely anon

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angelsanarchy · 2 months

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Fever Dreams: Mike x Y/N One Shot Series PRT 03

Tagging: @icarus-star @chainsawgvtsfvck @romanroyapoligist @liquidsmoothdomme @madamemaximoff06 @drazenka @blacksoul-27 @444rockstargf @kappasbbgirl @mommymilkers0526

Mike was settling in at Leff's and into his new role of working for him. It had hiccups and it wasn't exactly his dream job but he enjoyed having a place to go to sleep at night without worrying about freezing outside or getting his shit stolen. The best part of being here was absolutely getting to hang out with Y/n though. She made working for Leff a little less of a nightmare just be hanging out, talking with him and actually getting to know him.

"Leff? You lazy fuck!" He jumped up off his bed when he heard Y/n's voice call out as she entered the front door. He caught her in the hallway and she looked surprised to see him.

"Hey, why the fuck is dipshits phone off?" Y/n asked as she passed grocery bags to Mike.

"He's out tonight. Didn't say where. What the hell is all this?" Mike put the cigarette in his lips and helped carry some of the bags up the steps behind Y/n.

"Groceries. I do my shopping on Sunday's so I grab his shit too. If you need anything, you can add it to the list on the fridge." Y/n explained dropping the bags on the table. Mike sets the bags down and laughs.

"So you domestic shit for him yet you aren't fucking? What kind of shit is that?" Mike laughed as Y/n rolled her eyes.

"Have you never been friends with a woman before?" She asked curiously.

"No...not really." Mike started pulling things out of the grocery bags and sitting it on the table. He watched her put things away like she had done this a million times before. She knew more about this place than he did.

"We have not and will never fuck, I can promise you that. Leff is not my type in the slightest." Y/n explained catching Mike's attention.

"Oh yeah? What's your type then?" He smirked.

"Why? You trying to find me a boyfriend?" She teases.

"Maybe I'm trying to apply for the job?" He teases right back handing her more things to put in the fridge.

"You just got to the city, you can't just go settling down for the first woman who smacks your ass, Mike." Y/n shut the fridge and started gathering the bags.

"Who says I'm settling? I mean you could at least give me a test drive, see how I handle and make your decision on me from there." Mike followed her down the stairs and she paused in the foyer.

"Oh yeah? You gonna entertain me on that couch?" Y/n looked over his shoulder at the minimal things he had in his room.

"It's a work in progress." Mike explained gesturing for her to come in but she put her hand up.

"You've got more important things to do before you start trying to date out here...like getting a trash can. Jesus you guys are disgusting. Put a few things on a list and stick it to the fridge. I will make sure to grab you some stuff the next time I go out." Y/n shook her head picking up a garbage bag that sat on the floor.

"So you just go around doing domestic shit for guys and don't get fucked? Where's the fun in that?" Mike leaned against the door frame and Y/n put her hand on his chest.

"Only the ones who save my ass...and the really really cute ones that stare at it." She squeezed his chin making him smirk.

"Seriously, hang out for a bit. I don't bite." He took her hand and held onto it trying to entice her to stay.

"I have to go, I have my own groceries I need to get home." She laughed letting him hold onto her hand. He was trying to think of something to change her mind and she shook her head.

"See if you had a little mini fridge, I could keep my cold stuff in there and hang out with you but you don't. You should work on making this more friendly for entertaining." She pointed out.

"The next time you come by, it will be and you won't have any excuse to leave me hanging." Mike promised.

"Oh sounds like a threat, I'll bring the beer." She taunted and he finally let go of her hand.

"It's a promise." He watched her leave the house and couldn't help but think about spending time with her alone, preferably naked but he honestly just wanted to hang out with her. Something about her intrigued him. He turned back to his room and winced. He had a lot of work to do.

#Mike #Mike x Y/N #5lbs of pressure #Fever Dreams #One Shot Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #Fever Dreams series

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lunamadhatter99 · 5 months

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All for The Cameras

Chapter 4

Finnick Odair x fem!reader

I would like to take a moment to thank you all for the support and love for this story. Thank you so so much. I'm not very confident so it means a lot. Thank you all❤️❤️❤️

If you're new and would like to be added to the tag list, tell me🔥

Chapter summary: a little about the making of the Games, the Reaping, and the Parade.

Chapter warnings: talking of lethal threats, Cal is has his own warning, Snow, forced marriage.

Tag list

@guacam011y @justtrying2getby @idontevenknow1359 @alexandra-001 @bambikitten @maggiecc @redh00dsbf @haneybunny @1-800-styles @sisiking99 @merromimo @yourdailymemedelivery @regsg18 @gordorio @bambikitten @gracieeleanorr @shev3nom @honethatty12 @savingprivatecass @erindiggory @martahabla @sterredem @aawdrea @wpdarlingpan @strawberry--fawn @barbarathewanderer @ih8books @a-mysterious-potato @mayonesavegana @celinaiscrying

I don't know why I can't tag some people, I'm sorry 😞

I take a huge gulp of wine as I sit in Plutarch's living room.

He did convince Snow to make me his personal assistant for this Quarter Quell, Plutarch told him it's a perfect way to show my "participation". Although I hate to keep up such a facade, I love that I can use it as an excuse to not stay, nor spend any time with Cal.

"Careful with that," Plutarch comes back into the room with his own glass, "we need you lucid for this."

"Trust me, I built a strong resistance to alcohol... no amount would help endure this shit anyway..." I mutter, looking at my fucking ring.

"You spent too much time with Abernathy, I'm afraid," he comments, he's not judging, no, he's probably just teasing.

"Or not enough," I tease back, he smirks amused by my answer.

He then suddenly turns the TV on, on display my answer to Cal's proposal.

I groan as I see that.

"I gotta say, that was smart," he compliments me, referring to the kiss.

"Could you turn it off? One fucking time was enough, thank you." I tell him.

"Not telling you about the Quartel Quell was smart too," he throws this out like nothing, my head snaps towards him.

"You little... that's why..." I start, but his proud stance stops me, "fine... smart thinking on your part too, okay."

"Thank you very much," he does a little bow before turning serious, "I'm sure now you can know more." He declares.

"Really?" I ask, I really want to know more and help, but at the same time I don't want to risk everyone.

"Yes, miss L/n. But... you have to know this, all this, will require a lot from you. From all of us, actually. So just know... you can still change your mind and no one will hold it against you." He explains, I can feel he is sincere, I know I can trust him.

I take a deep breath, this is a good chance to actually change things here... I won't pass this opportunity.

"Anything." I say and he smiles.

"Alright, our primarily goal is to get Katniss out." He starts and I nod, of course she would be the face of the revolution, "every Victor involved knows that,"

"Did you warn them? The ones involved?" I ask.

"Didn't have the chance... not everyone... I also need you to start thinking that not everyone will see this revolution starts." He says bitterly.

"I..." I don't know what to say, so I try to reason it, "yeah... of course... if not all of them know... the others would just want to survive, as always."

"Reasoning won't help you much this time," he says and he uses the remote to change the scene on the screen.

The reaping ceremony of each district.

"Cashmere and Gloss... God... they're brother and sister.."

"It never stopped the Capitol before. It just adds up to the drama." Plutarch sighs.

"I know," I sigh as the next district's reaping starts, "it may sounds cliché, but Enobaria is actually a sweet person... when you get past the teeth," I try to chuckle to ease my tension. Yeah... I might not see some of them after...

"Please tell me you were smart enough to recruit Beetee," I look at Plutarch who nods confidently.

"Oh..."

"This is where I wanted you," he says softly.

"Finnick... yeah... I... it makes sense..." I say as I see him walking up the stage.

"You need to..."

He doesn't have the time to finish his sentence before I let out a big gasp.

"Mags volunteered..." I whisper, "she... she can't... they can't... not them both... oh c'mon..."

"I'm sorry. When the time comes we will do our best to take everyone to safety, but..." he explains.

"But you can't control what happens in the arena..." I mutter, "not without raising suspects. I know."

I hear him sigh and walking closer to me, offering a comforting hand on my shoulder, I nod and we go on watching the reaping.

Johanna of course... I know she has all the skills to protect herself in there, but she's still my friend and I can't not worry. Especially knowing she has nothing left to lose.

Finally we get to 12 and of course Katniss, being the only living female victor, she's reaped.

Time for the male.

Haymitch's name is said, and for a split moment my heart breaks, but Peeta is quick to volunteer for him. I see Katniss shocked and terrified expression and I know she asked Haymitch to volunteer in his place if the roles were reverse.

"That was rigged... wasn't it?" I ask.

"Exactly, we need Haymitch here and..." he motion for me to go on.

"She needs Peeta there," I say earning a proud nod from him, "she just doesn't know it."

There's a moment of silence, where I take a second to recollect myself and take a sip of wine.

"Now," he claps his hands, "to make your participation more believable... you need to write down 2 ideas for the arena."

"What?" I ask, "I thought the arena was already decided."

"The arena yes... not the threats inside." He says.

"What do you mean?" I'm actually confused right now.

"This year arena is... quite special," he starts explaining, showing the concept on the screen, "it's divided in sections, like this, each section hosts a threat. Like these: acid fog, monkeys, this big wave... And so on."

"Acid fog? Isn't it a little too much?" I ask getting nervous for my friends.

"I told you it's gonna be hard," he gives me a sympathetic smile, "and we need your suggestions to be... authentic. It has to look like you're actually putting an effort."

I sigh, bouncing my leg.

I need to think of something that's horrifying, but safe at the same time.

They're all there... all my friends are there. The only family I've ever known since... I shake my head and drink more wine.

"Okay. Yeah... I get it." I nod, "when do you need it?"

"Tomorrow." He answers, "I have faith you can do it and... you can say you're busy working for me." He winks at me with a reassuring smile.

"That's the only good thing," I let out a humourless laugh and take one last gulp of wine before standing up. "Then I should get going. Thank you, Mr Heavensbee."

I walk towards the exit when Plutarch's voice stops me.

"One more thing," he calls and I turn my head, "even though you'll try and think of the least lethal threat... they might kill someone anyway. Keep that in mind."

I nod and walk out.

----------------

As I enter my apartment I instantly smell flowers... lots of them.

I look around and I see, probably, more than 10 bouquets of flowers.

"Oh god..." I sigh, defeated. I look at some of them, noticing most are from "admirers" congratulating me for my engagement.

But there are three that catch my eyes more than the others.

One, huge, bouquet is made by all sort of flowers, I don't think I've ever seen such variety of flowers in the first place. I look at the card... I groan, it's from Cal.

"My love, everyday I count the days that separate us from being finally together.

I can't wait for you to be mine.

Properly mine.

Enjoy your job, my sweetness, and happy Hunger Games!

Love,

Cal Kingslay. "

I throw the whole bouquet with the rest, and just look at the other. It's simple and small, my favourite flowers and a few seashells here and there, the thing holding the bouquet it's not paper... it's fish nets... Finnick. I unconsciously smile as I take the card.

"I wanT to congRatUlate you, my SweeT girl!

TheY tOld me the news jUst now! Miss L/n, You shouLd've tOld me, I've neVer beEn so happy!

Congratulations!

Dario."

He signs each letters, making it look like it was ink fallen from the pen... smart.

"I trust you, my love"

He even signed it with an anagram of his name. I let out a laugh at that and move to the last bouquet.

Even smaller then Finnick's, a few green leaves are like a frame for the one, white rose.

I shakily take the card in my hand.

"Congratulations on your engagement, my dear. I look forward to see what you'll come up with for our Games.

I'm sure one day you'll make a fine Gamemaker."

There's no sign, not that he needed to...

"Gamemaker... yeah... sure." I scoff.

I go to the kitchen to get myself some wine. As I'm about to pour a glass, I look at the bottle and just... take it all with me to my room.

I sit on the desk in my room and, as I take some gulps from the bottle, I try to come up with some ideas.

Plutarch mentioned a few potentially lethal threat already, I mean... acid fog, deadly monkeys, that I'm sure will be modified.

What to do, what to do...

Other animals maybe, but a non lethal one... something that creates a hassle, but not death.

Bugs?

I shake my head, no, they would make it poisonous no matter what my suggestion is.

Something else, something else.

Jabberjays. Yes!

I write down my idea and take the bottle to take a big gulp, but the bottle slips from my grasp and falls on the desk spilling the liquid all over the desk and the pavement.

"Shit!"

I manage to safe the paper I was writing on and I immediately go take a towel to wipe the wine off.

As I kneel down cleaning the liquid, I find myself staring at the little drops of wine falling from the desk to the floor.

The dark liquid looks a lot like... blood.

Blood rain.

-------------

I walk nervously behind Plutarch, he just told me Snow wanted to hear my ideas himself, so now, as I'm walking I clench my fists nervously.

"You couldn't have told me sooner?" I ask him.

"He didn't ask me sooner," Plutarch answers as we finally stand out of Snow's office, "you wrote it?"

"Of course," I slightly scoff at his answer.

"Then take a deep breath and... show time," Plutarch smiles and knock on the door.

"Come in," Snow's voice gives us permission to enter.

"President," Plutarch greets him.

"Good morning, sir," I say, putting up the best 'diligent student' appearance.

"Good morning, Mr Heavensbee," he nods towards Plutarch and then turns to me, "and what a pleasure, miss L/n."

"You said you wanted to hear her ideas for the arena, right?" Plutarch starts.

"Oh, of course!" Snow's suddenly happy, as if he's about to hear a good story, "tell me, my dear girl, what did you think of?"

If it were a different universe this could've seemed a sweet exchange. The old "mentor" interested in his protégé ideas...

"When Plutarch showed me the arena and the already existing threats, I have to admit I was intrigued," I start and I see, from the corner of my eyes Plutarch smiling proudly, "but at the same time, I was a little bored." I say and that earned a surprised 'oh?' from Snow, "I mean... from those you either die or survive... so I thought of something more psychological."

"Oh, now that's interesting, my dear, please go on." Snow is pleased so far.

"I thought of a section of the arena where... uh..." I pretend to stutter for a second, to give him the impression that I'm nervous because I care for his opinion.

"Don't be shy, I'm open to all suggestions,"

"I thought of a blood rain... sir." I say.

I see him pondering the idea, then a smile creeps it's way on his face, it makes me sick.

"I like it," he finally says looking at Plutarch, "she's smart, isn't she?"

"Very smart, sir." Plutarch agrees.

"I'm even more curious to hear the other idea, please don't leave me hanging," Snow's 'sweet' tone almost freezes me to the spot, but I swallow hard and just ignore this feeling.

"Jabberjays." Is all I say.

He looks a little taken aback, and motion for me to elaborate.

"I thought about using Jabberjays that imitate the screams of people the tributes know." I say, pretending to feel unsure of my idea, "maybe create a sort of an invisible wall that prevents them from escaping if they finds the birds."

Snow looks at me, considering me for a moment, then he smiles, that sick smile once again.

"You were right in recruiting her, Mr Heavensbee. Good thinking, miss L/n, very good thinking." He compliments Plutarch and me.

"Thank you, sir." I smile.

"No, thank you," he says, "now, one more thing before I dismiss you."

I nod and stay put, even though I was ready to run, or better walk very fast, out of here.

"This role of assistant Gamemaker won't exonerate you from your duty to assist the mentors," he tells me.

"I wouldn't dream of it, sir, I've always taken my role very seriously," I tell him, faking pride as I speak.

"I know, my dear." He smiles, almost as if he knows I wasn't exactly fond of it, "we were supposed to randomly assign you to one district, like every year, but we thought to just let you stick to 12. Apparently the Capitol's people loved your... friendship with the two victors." He says the word 'friendship' with a not so convinced tone, almost repulsed.

"Of course, sir." I nod my head, eager to just get out of here.

"But," he adds, probably keeping me longer to see when I'll crumble, I look briefly at Plutarch who keeps his confidence stance, "you'll be assisting all of the districts." I look at him confused and he continues, "I mean, you'll be present during the training sessions and will help."

"Oh, yes, sir, of course." I nod again.

"That's all." He claps his hands, satisfied, "the tributes arrive today so... better be there to welcome them home."

'Home'...

"I'm going right now, sir." I promptly tell him, he smiles and motions me to go and to Plutarch to stay.

"Send my regards to Cal Kingslay when you see him," I hear him say as I walk out, not bothering to answer him I just go straight to the tributes living centre.

--------------

I enter the building and see Haymitch, Effie, Katniss and Peeta arriving.

"Well, well, well, aren't you lot a sight for sore eyes?" I say once I'm close enough to pull Peeta into a hug.

"Oh! We got the Princess this year too, uh? The president is spoiling us," Haymitch jokes ans I roll my eyes as I hug Katniss.

"Rather spoiling me," I greet Effie too, in the perfect 'Capitol style', "lots of opportunities."

"I figured," Haymitch says wrapping his arms around me.

"Now," I say holding my arms open, theatrically, "let's take you to your apartments."

I start walking towards the elevator, heading to the attic, again.

------------

Once inside we start to have lunch, the atmosphere is quite tense before Effie breaks the silence.

"All right," she starts, clearing her throat, "before we begin, I've had a thought."

"You don't say?" Haymitch jokes, unimpressed.

"Be nice," I tell him, throwing a balled-up napkin at him.

"Katniss has her gold Mockingjay pin. I have my hair. I'm going to get you three something gold." She declares, as if it were something obvious.

Haymitch looks at both me and Peeta, confused, before asking why.

"A token." Effie explains, "Show them we are a team. And they can't just..." she starts getting emotional and Katniss takes her hands.

"Thank you." She tells her, meaning it.

Effie might be too theatrical sometimes, but she's so much more than that, I'm grateful I got to know this side of her. I take her hand too.

"That's really sweet, Effie." I smile at her, "and... thank you for including me."

I notice both Peeta and Katniss sharing a look as if I said something unbelievable, but I ignore it.

Not the time.

"Now..." Effie composes herself, "everything will be different, because it's a Quarter Quell. The Capitol has spared no expense. A new training centre. New Tribute living quarters. And of course, a very special arena."

I tense at that, I took part in that...

"But this year you'll be facing other Victors." I step in, " all Capitol favourites. Smart, cunning, skilled... angry. And they all know one another. You two are the outsiders."

" I want you guys to forget everything you think you know about the Games. Last year was child's play." Haymitch starts explaining, he's the best to mentor them about a Quarter Quell, "this year, you're dealing with all experienced killers."

"All right," Peeta speaks up, "what does it mean for us?"

"Allies." I tell him, "you'll be needing allies."

"Okay. I think that if..." Peeta's reply is quickly interrupted.

"You're not the problem." I say and, I don't have to say anything more, Haymitch is already pointing at Katniss.

"No." She sternly says.

"A little help, Haymitch?" I ask him.

"Look, you're starting at a disadvantage. Most of these people have been friends for years."

"That just puts us higher on their killing list." She replies, annoyed.

I roll my eyes, she needs to do her part.

"Do it your own way, but I know these people. You go it alone, their first move is gonna be to hunt you down." Haymitch keeps explaining, patiently, "both of you."

"Katniss, come on," Peeta's sweet tone seems to convince her... a tiny bit.

She sighs deeply, which usually mean she's gonna listen, even though she doesn't agree.

"How could any of us even trust each other?" She then asks.

"It's not about trust. It's about staying alive," he states.

Peeta and Katniss look at each other and finally Katniss nod her head.

"Great!" I cheer, "time for some brainstorming, shall we?" And I stand up walking to the living room.

They soon follow and Haymitch turns the TV on, so they can see who the other Victors are, and who might seem like a good ally.

"Cashmere and Gloss. Brother and sister. District one. They one back-to-back Games. Capitol favourites. Lots of sponsors." He shows them the siblings.

"They will be lethal." I add and Haymitch nods, strongly agreeing.

"And the other half of the Career Pack, Brutus and Enobaria."

"What's with her teeth?" Of course, Katniss asks about the teeth.

"She... well... she had them filed into fangs..." I respond, "so she could... rip people's throat out better."

"She's committed. I'll give her that." Peeta comments, I can sense some tension in him... which is very understandable.

"Wiress and Beetee," Haymitch keeps on presenting the tributes, "not fighters, but brilliant."

"Very brilliant," I agree.

"And weird." He adds, earning a glare from me, "real texh-savvy. He won his Games by electrocuting six tributes at once." He changes the scene again, "the Morphlings. Masters of camouflage. Basically, won their Games by hiding until everyone was dead. Self-medicating ever since. Which I applaud. Not a threat."

We arrive at District 4 reaping.

"Finnick Odair, right?" Katniss asks.

Haymitch looks at me, silently telling me to explain this one myself, there's a hint of a smirk on his face that makes me roll my eyes for, what feels like, the millionth time today.

"Yep. The one and only." I starts, "he won his Games at 14. He's the youngest Victor ever... of course modesty is his peculiarity." I joke.

"You're kidding."

"Kinda," I chuckle, "he's very confident. Very. But... he's the Capitol's darling. They all love him here." Unfortunately, I want to add. "He's smart, he's skilled at combat, especially... especially in water."

"What about weaknesses?" Peeta asks, interested.

"Only one..." I sigh, deeply, "Mags. She... she volunteer for Annie. Mags was his mentor, the year that I was assigned to 4, she raised him, basically. He will try to protect her, even though it would expose him."

"A guy like that has to know she's not gonna make it," Katniss shakes her head, unconvinced, Haymitch looks at me knowingly, "I bet when it really comes down to it, he won't protect her."

I really want to hit her right now, but I know it's not her fault, she thinks this because it's what the Capitol wanted everyone else to think. That's what he had to pretend to be.

"Well... she's an amazing woman, Katniss, I... I just hope that... if... w-when she goes, she goes quickly." I stutter out. It took everything in me to say that... I want to hope we will rescue everyone before that happens... I really do.

I space out as Haymitch goes on explaining and introducing the other tributes.

I can feel his eyes on me every now and then, but I stopped pay attention minutes ago now.

Mags is the mother I never had... if there is one person who deserves to see a free Panem, it's her.

---------‐---

I was walking on the train heading to the restaurant car where I found an old lady sitting there, drinking a cup of tea.

"Hi..." I shyly said.

"Oh hello, dear." She greeted me with such a kind smile, I felt so much better and less nervous.

"I'm... I'm Y/n." I started to introduce myself, but her hand gently taking mine stopped me.

"I know, dear. I'm Mags." Another kind smile, "you're here to assist me, right?"

"Yeah." My hands were getting sweaty... I was so nervous.

"Hey, no need to worry about it. We can do it." She reassured me.

"I hope so..." I muttered under my breath.

She sighed and offer a seat to me, I took it and stared at the cups on the table.

"I watched you last year," her voice was soft as she spoke, "you were assigned to... what district?"

"5"

"But you were helping the little one from 11, right?" She asked.

I snapped my head to her, eyes wide open.

"Please, don't worry about it. I never told anyone." She assured me, handing me a warm cup, "I just meant that I saw you're not like the rest of them, my dear. You care."

"My tributes didn't want to listen, they were older than me and thought I was just a spy... which is understandable." I sadly kept my head low. "That boy from 11 was my age and... he was having trouble with some essential survival techniques."

"He got pretty far thanks to those." She tried to make me feel better.

"Not far enough," I bitterly replied.

"I'm sorry." I let her take my hand again, "it's not a consolation, I know, trust me, but... I have a feeling we can do it."

"They won't trust me," I told her, referring to the tributes from 4.

"Not at first... and most likely not the girl... but the boy, he seems to be more open to suggestions." She explained.

"I'm not sure he would accept suggestions from me."

"He's a smart one. Same age as you. Just be yourself and he will trust you." She smiled.

I considered her for a moment before nodding. Hope growing a little more.

The door of the car opening had my head turning immediately.

"My dear Y/n," Mags stood up and walked towards the boy entering, "this is Finnick Odair. Finnick, this is Y/n."

--------------

"Are you okay?" Haymitch's voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Uh? Yeah... yeah, sorry, I zoned out." I apologise.

"I noticed." He sits with me.

"Where are they?" I ask, noticing no one else was in sight.

"Getting ready for the parade." He answers.

"Right... I better get going too. I have to check everyone is ready..." I tiredly sigh as I stand up, but Haymitch softly pulls me back down.

"If you take a few minutes it won't be a tragedy." He tells me, "what's going on in that head of yours?"

"Nothing... I just started to think about Mags." I whisper, afraid someone might hear.

"Plutarch gave you the speech?" He asks and I nod, "I'm really sorry, Y/n."

"It's okay... I mean, it's not, but I think it was inevitable... she would've never let anyone else go, not if she had any say in it." I tell him, "she's strong." I see him starting to speak but I beat him to it, "I know better than to keep my hopes up, trust me, I know."

He just sighs and wrap one reassuring arms around my shoulder.

"I really better get going now, gotta check on those outfits." I stand up.

"You do that, sweetheart." Haymitch smiles at me and I walk to the elevator.

--------------

I walk out of the elevator heading to where the parade is about to begin and I instantly loom for someone.

I spot immediately Peeta talking to Cinna, who's probably refining last minutes details.

"Hello." I greet once I'm close enough, Cinna turns around giving me a small smile and a hug. "You look good, mr Mellark."

"Only with his help it's possible." Peeta, humble as usual, replies pointing at Cinna.

"I'm not a magician, I can make people look good if they're worthy." Cinna shakes his head, waving off the compliment.

"I couldn't agree more." I sigh, "so, are you lot ready? Where's Katniss?"

"She's should be here soon, her dress is a little more complicated than Peeta's." Cinna answers, "and, since you're here, I was thinking about them not doing anything out there."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I mean, no waving, no smiling, nothing of sort. Act like they're above them. What do you think?" He explains, genuinely interested in my opinion.

"I think it's perfect." I smile and he return it.

"Oh, there she is." Peeta points behind us, I turn seeing Katniss talking to Finnick, who's a lot close. I hope he's not putting up his flirting persona, I don't think Katniss would trust him so easily then.

Peeta excuses himself to join her, just as Finnick walks away... spotting me.

"Snow asked..." Cinna gently nudges my arm and lowers his voice, "or better, ordered me to make her wear a wedding dress for the interview."

"Of course..." I roll my eyes. "You good with that?

"Oh yeah...I got a great idea for it." He says, I look into his eyes seeing determination so I don't ask more questions.

"Better get them ready to go, it's almost time." I tell him.

Cinna walks to Katniss and Peeta and I turn to check if someone else needs a hand with something or needs advice, unlikely, but never say never.

I see Mags petting a horse so I decide to go to her.

As soon as she sees me her smile grows ten times, warming my heart.

"You look very beautiful," I tell her, once we're close enough I hug her, "I'm so sorry." I whisper into her ear.

She pulls away gently, looking at me with that kind smile that always makes me feel better. She caresses my cheek with her hand, reassuringly, nodding her head to tell me that it's alright.

I nod too, taking a deep breath.

"Do you think I look presentable?" A very familiar voice says from behind me.

I look at Mags, rolling my eyes, glad I made her laugh a little.

I turn around, fully admir... noticing his naked chest and the golden fish net tied at his... oh shit.

"My eyes are up here, sweetheart." He smirks and I just turn my head away, shaking it as I try to pull myself together.

"Did your stylists finished the fabric?" I finally say, "I could've ordered some, if they told me."

"Of course," he smiles and walk closer to me, leaning down to whisper into my ear, "just between us... I'm wearing it just for you."

My head snaps to him, our faces mere inches apart. I notice his eyes looking down to my lips, I instantly put some distance walking up to district 3.

"And here I thought you would never come to say hi," Beetee waves.

"Did you lose all hope in me? And here I thought you were the smart one." I tease back.

"It's a pity seeing each other here, under these circumstances." Wiress shakes my hand.

"I know. I wish it were different..." I look down, sad and ashamed too, Beetee softly touches my arm. I look up at him noticing him mouthing something on the line of 'it's gonna be fine' so I smile at him. "Well, don't you two look great?"

I compliment them, just before the announcer warned us of the beginning.

I wave them goodbye for now and head back, watching every district ride out there.

When it's Finnick's turn he turns to me and winks at me, earning a big eye roll. When it's finally District 12 turn as they pass by I nod my head, encouraging them. I see them looking st each other and straighten their back proudly.

I walk towards the end of the parade, where they should get off the chariots and head back to the elevators, and I wait.

I look at them in the distance, taking deep breaths to calm my nerves.

All of a sudden I feel someone watching me from behind.

"You did a pretty good job, my sweetness." His voice makes me wince.

I turn around, showing the usual fake smile I show to everyone in the Capitol, pretending to be happy to see him.

"Cal... hi." I say, holding back from walking away as he nears, "what are you doing here?"

"I missed you. I didn't scare you, didn't I?" He says with a smile, that clearly shows he's proud he did.

"Of course, not. I was just thinking." I tell him sweetly.

"What about?" He ask, curious.

"Well, I have a lot to do these days and when they're back I'll have to make sure everything is organised." I tell him. "And also, taking part in the making of the Games... Plutarch asked me to write down some ideas."

This is probably the only time I'm glad I have this job, if I didn't, Cal would've kept me basically locked up, in his apartment. 'All to himself'... the thought makes me shiver.

"Would you share them with me?" He whispers.

"I can't ruin the fun, can I?" I say back.

"Aahh... you're killing me, babe." He shakes his head chuckling.

If only...

"No special treatment, Cal." I smile, feeling uneasy from the way he's looking at me.

In that moment, thankfully, I hear the parade is ending, which means everybody is about to get back.

"Such a diligent girl." He moves his hand to take mine. I let out a nervous laugh and a 'thanks', and finally, one district at a time, they're back.

I lock eyes with some of the Tributes, who noticing Cal with me, tense and give me sympathetic smile.

Then Finnick's back.

As soon as he sees me, he can't keep up the fake smile and his expression darkens.

"Well... I'm sorry, but I have to go now. I'll see you." I say, starting to turn around, but his hand grabs my arm. Rather harshly, which makes my eyes widen at that.

"We hardly see each other these days... I miss you." He looms over me, a dark look in his eyes.

"Well... uh..." I clear my throat, looking at the tributes still arriving, "I have a job to.. to do."

I see Mags and Finnick, she has a hand on his arm, to stop him from coming here.

"Good thing that when we're married you won't need to work, then." He tells me directly into my ear, "I would be able to have you any day I want."

"Wouldn't that be a dream..?" I choke out, my throat tightens. I still look at Finnick, more to check he doesn't intervenes than anything.

"There you are!" We both look at the source of the sound, Johanna.

I let out a sigh of relief as she walks closer.

"I was looking for you." She says, "they told me to ask you for the schedule."

"Yes... yes! I got it." I tell her.

Johanna pretends to notice Cal just now and extends her hand towards him.

"Oh hey there! You must be the lucky one, uh?" Johanna greets him.

Cal looks at her sceptically before shaking her hand.

"Yes, that's me."

"So nice to finally meet you, she talks about you all the time!" Johanna's (fake) cheery personality and flattery seem to work on Cal, who smiles smugly, "you don't mind if I steal her, do you?"

Before Cal could answer, she pulls me to her linking arms and walks away.

"God, he looks so annoying." She groans.

"He is... he is." I sigh, relieved.

"I thought about stepping in before Finnick over there could rip his eyes out," she teases. "So... how are the lovebirds?"

"They're completely in love." I tell her, she nods smiling knowingly.

I spot them talking with district 11 tributes, I wave at Haymitch, letting him know I'll be up in a second.

"Ugh... he still looking this way," Johanna complains getting in front of me, "is he always like this?"

"Even worse." I roll my eyes.

"Alright," she take the end of her dress in her hands showing it to me, "Plutarch told me."

I understand now what she's doing with her dress, she's pretending to show it to me, so it looks like we're talking about the dress.

"I know," I say touching the fabric, pretending to check it out, "you're sure about doing this?"

"Of course I am," she now turns to 'make me see her back', "never been more sure."

"I'm just sorry," I tell her, motioning for her to turn back around.

"No need too," she smiles, an emotionless smile, "oh he's gone.. finally."

"Thanks for saving me," I tell her.

"Anytime," she says, she turns her head towards the elevator, "well... I'll go introduce myself."

"Be nice." I tell her, she winks at me and walks away to the elevator with Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch.

I go over the last details, seeing the horses are attended to, the chariots are about to be put away, everything seems fine.

I then walk to the elevator myself, I lean against the elevator's wall as soon as I enter.

Before the doors can close, someone rushes in, I look up finding myself face to face with Finnick.

Being in a confined space with a shirtless Finnick is...

"Hi, my love."

Shit.

#the hunger games x reader #the hunger games fic #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #finnick x y/n #finnick odair #finnick odair x y/n

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tartigglez · 1 year

Text

"i know it hurts..."

headcanons of some genshin boys when you have your period (pt.1??)

kaeya, diluc, thoma, childe, zhongli (separately) x afab!reader (pronouns not mentioned)

genre: fluff

word count: 800-ish

tags: periods, no distinct mention of blood, wholesome boys (for the most part), a lottttt of physical touch + petnames, kaeya is teehee, diluc is clueless as shit, thoma is absolutely whipped, childe is also clueless, zhongli is wayyyyy clued in

tw/cw: zhongli is written as genderfluid, mentions of foods/drink (soup + tea), kisses in zhongli's, i don't think there's much else to add here, lmk if i missed smth

a/n: surprise? hi! i've had a very emotional night, so its time for something extremely self indulgent. i wrote this mostly for the genderfluid zhongli agenda. also i'd like to remind everyone that i am genderfluid, my pronouns are they/she/he!!! ty, enjoy.

kaeya’s personality seems to go through some sort of shift when you’re on your period, seriously! he’ll go from being a flirty, unserious captain with an eye catching smirk to a kind, gentle, soft spoken man. he will quietly hold you if you’re in pain, and try his best to distract you. will kiss you softly and assure you that it will pass, without ever making you feel like you’re exaggerating. strokes your cheek and does whatever you want to do in order to stay distracted.

“darling? are you alright? are you sick?”

“no, just cramps.”

“ahh, here.”

“how does this feel? you okay? comfy?”

“yeah, I’m okay. thanks kae”

“not a problem at all, lovely”

“so, how was work?

diluc is lowkey confused at first in your relationship. he’s never spent much time around anyone who has a period, let alone having to live with one, so it makes sense (a little) that he really doesn’t understand anything that’s happening to you, or what hurts, or why, or how he can help. the first time he finds you curled up in his bedroom in dawn winery he’ll be really confused and awkward, run to adelinde and try to very discreetly ask her what to do (he doesn’t do a good job), but eventually she gets what he means, and tells him to just ask you, which he builds the confidence to do after hyping himself up for like twenty minutes.

“hi”

“hi, 'luc”

“uh… are you okay?”

“ish?”

“uhm… may i talk to you about something?”

“yeah, of course! what’s up?”

“what is… happening to you right now? it’s painful, i know, but how do i help? what do i do? what do you need? how can i make you comfortable? i don’t want you to be in pain.”

“pah, how sweet. come, sit, i’ll explain”

thoma knows exactly what is going on, and when its going on. keeps track of your periods (with your knowledge and consent ofc) just so he knows what days to bring you whatever you may need. he’s a BIG BIG acts of service and gift giving kinda guy, because he’s always in the city, so he always picks things up for you. this happens even more when you’re on your period. of course, sometimes, his estimates of your starting days will be a little bit off, so he might end up randomly doing something and it seems like its out of nowhere, and he tries to play it off like it is too.

“thoma? what’re you doing home this early?”

“oh, I thought i’d come home and make you soup!”

“make me… soup? that’s a little strange…”

“no it’s not! it's just because i thought you liked it, especially when…y’know”

“hah, your guess was off darling, you’re two days early. still, i appreciate the thought love. let’s eat?”

childe is clueless. extremely clueless. but he’s also super duper sweet, and a very fast learner. he tries his best to understand what’s happening and what to do, but unfortunately he doesn’t really have anyone to ask about it. so he’ll literally read a book, which is rather rare for him but he would literally do anything for you. if you’re feeling really unwell, he will insist on taking the day off work to look after you. he’s extremely attentive and gentle, which is the side of him his “co-workers” don’t get to see.

“morning baby! how’re you feeling?”

“mmhh,, morning chi. ‘m okay, a bit crampy”

“okay, i’ll stay here then.”

“what? no, you have work. you gotta go!”

“i’ll call in sick, they can live without me for a day”

“chi you can’t do this agai-”

“i’d do anything for you”

zhongli. understands. everything. okay hear me out. zhongli can take any form he wants, so sometimes out of curiosity he would change into another body. he’d get completely, utterly shocked the first time he got a period whilst in this form (it was unexpected.), but learned how to cope with it, because he wanted to be able to fully understand the struggles that some mortals might go through.

he knows exactly what to do when this happens to you, speaks to you calmly and holds you if you get cramps. will brew tea for you, and get the latest herb combinations for pain relief from baizhu. will snuggle up to you, place his hand on your stomach because it’s warm, and hold you close. kisses your neck gently and asks if you need anything, overall just a big sweetie. if you want him to, he’ll go into his half-dragon form, so he can wrap his tail around you. loves you more than anything and will do anything to make you comfortable. you need something? it’s yours, no matter the extremes he has to go to in order to get it. constantly making sure you take your time with everything, and making sure that you don’t overexert yourself.

“my love, i know you’re in pain, please don’t push yourself”

“i know, i know, i just have a little more work to do”

“i trust you, but i’m staying here with you, just in case. have you eaten? are you comfortable? do you need any pain relief?”

#childe fluff #zhongli fluff #thoma fluff #kaeya fluff #diluc fluff #genshin headcanons #genshin impact #genshin x reader

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rindecisions · 29 days

Text

What Are You?

Made for the @strangerthingswritersguild Daily Prompt

Prompt | “in my defense, this wasn’t the outcome I was expecting.”

Turned out to be the perfect prompt to add to my Vampire Eddie Series: Bloodlust

༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

"Oh, good. You're awake!" Steve stated chipperly when he heard Eddie groan. "I wasn't sure if you were going to wake up at all. You slept the whole day.”

"Yeah, I—" Eddie tried to sit up, holding his head as it spun. "I don't function during daylight hours.”

"You don't functi—What?" Steve stated in confusion. "Well, right before you passed out, you said you were hungry, so I have food ready for whenever you want it. It'll just take a few minutes for me to heat it up.”

Eddie laughed and finally got a good look at the victim he passed out on last night. His face fell in shock. "Harrington!?" He sat upright despite his splitting headache. "What are—? Why am I—?”

Steve shook his head with a small laugh. "I'll take it you don't remember last night. You must have been hella drunk or something because you were barely coherent and just kind of passed out on—" When his eyes met Eddie's, his blood ran cold, just as it had last night. He was certain he'd been seeing things, but sure enough, Eddie's eyes were solid black. "What the fuck?!" he exclaimed in horror, grasping the armrests of the chair he was sitting in.

"Woah!" Eddie gasped, putting his hands up where Steve could see them. "I know my eyes are fucked-up, but I don't want to hurt you.”

"The fuck are you?!" Steve spat. "Are you even Eddie? Are you like some evil clone thing?" he asked frantically, pulling his legs up on the chair as if he'd seen a mouse in the room.

"Look, I'm still Eddie. I'm the same loser from high school. I just got into some shit and ended up like this, alright?" He was breathing heavily, both from the panic of Steve freaking out and because he could feel himself getting weaker the longer he was awake without feeding. He could swear he could hear Steve's heart pushing the life-giving liquid through his body.

As freaked out as he was, Steve couldn't help but worry when he saw Eddie sway slightly and his eyelids flutter. He looked like he was about to pass out again any second now. He also looked insanely pale, but he wasn't sure if it was because he was suffering or due to whatever he'd become.

He wanted to trust Eddie. He was acting and speaking like himself, but there was no doubt that there was something different about him, and not just the weird eyes. "What were you trying to do to me last night?" Steve asked suspiciously.

Eddie groaned with a cringe and ran his hand through his hair. "In my defense, this wasn't the outcome I was expecting.”

"What were you expecting?" Steve squinted.

"If everything had gone as planned, you wouldn't have remembered anything," he sighed.

"Any of what?" Steve stressed.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie flopped back onto the soft bed. "The best way to sum it up is that I'm a vampire now.”

"What!?" Steve snapped. "But vampires aren't re—" He froze and glanced at Eddie's inhuman eyes. "Holy shit... Vampires are real..." He sat back down in the chair and stared at the carpet in disbelief.

Eddie pursed his lips as he let Steve process that information in silence.

"Wait! Does that mean you were going to drink my blood?!" Steve gasped, covering his neck with both hands.

"Bingo," Eddie sighed. "But it wouldn't kill you," he added quickly before Steve freaked out even further. "I'd only take what I needed. You'd barely even notice. At most, you might feel a little weak or woozy. They take more from you when you donate blood than what I would need to survive off of for a few days.”

Steve relaxed a little at the information, but still kept his hands loosely around his neck. "Was that why you passed out? You haven't... y'know.”

"Yeah," Eddie nodded weakly. "It's been almost a week.”

"A week!?" Steve exclaimed. He might not understand this whole thing with Eddie being a vampire or whatever, but it didn't sound like a good thing to go a week without eating. Even if eating meant sucking someone's blood. His first instinct was to help, but how exactly could he help? Was he really willing to risk letting Eddie drink his blood?

"I don't think I've ever gone this long," He groaned and tried to sit up, but his head spun too fiercely and he fell back onto the pillows.

"Why have you?”

"I try not to take more than I need, and I just let it go too far this time.”

"Is it gross or something?" Steve cringed at the idea of drinking blood.

"No, I fucking love it," Eddie scoffed. "It's almost better than sex. Everything about it is just incredible, but that makes it dangerous. It's pretty easy to overindulge and end up killing someone by bleeding them dry.”

Steve shivered at the thought.

"So I make a point to pace myself. I really don't want to end up killing someone.”

"When you're this weak, wouldn't you need a lot more to get back on your feet?”

"Not necessarily. I just need enough to not feel like shit anymore, then I can take small drinks here and there to get back to 100%.”

Steve swallowed nervously, not sure how to feel about what he was considering. "Does it have to be the neck?”

Eddie laughed feebly and shook his head. "Anywhere on the body works. If it bleeds, I can drink it." He jumped when Steve's fist came flying towards his face. On top of the shock of not getting punched, he was baffled by Steve holding out his wrist to him.

"Just what you need, right?" Steve confirmed tentatively.

Eddie swallowed as his mouth watered, staring hungrily at the clear veins under his tender skin. He forced himself to sit upright before delicately cradling Steve's hand and arm. He looked up at the man in awe and gave a small nod. "Are you sure?”

Steve nodded sharply and looked away. "Do it before I change my mind.”

Eddie licked his lips as he brought the wrist up to his open mouth, his heart racing wildly.

#stwgdailyprompt #stranger things #Vampire Eddie #Steddie #Pre-Steddie #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #fanfiction #prompt #fanfic #steve/eddie #vampire eddie munson

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cowboydisaster · 1 year

Text

Princess

originally posted on 9 February, 2023

pairing: Dutch van der Linde x fem!reader

word count: 4k

summary: modern au; After a rough day, Dutch gives you the princess treatment. He draws you a bath, brings you some wine, and reads to you. But what you really need is him, and how could he deny his girl?

a/n: reposting because I need to get on with that, and I haven't in like a week. I feel really bad flooding the tags, so I'm just gonna tag this once and see how it does.

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni (bath tub foreplay, vaginal sex, oral, fingering, overstimulation, praise kink)

[I didn't add the taglist b/c this is a repost! You guys were tagged on the first time, and I don't wanna bug ya <3]

You slam the front door shut a little harder than intended, wincing as the loud bang shatters the silence that was resting peacefully in your apartment. The door hasn’t been working properly for some time, and you usually try to be gentle with it. You don't bother to hang up your purse, instead allowing the tooled leather bag to drop onto the floor. Your cream colored cashmere coat meets the floor next, lumping pathetically on the dark hardwood floor. Your eyes remain on the ground, meaninglessly following the patterns of the wood grain as you fight back tears that are begging to be released.

It has been a shit day. One of the sort where everything seems to be falling apart. Your life is changing in more ways than you're comfortable with, and the only thing keeping you grounded, the only thing familiar is him.

Dutch is standing at the kitchen sink, hands deep in the cloudy, sudsy water that is holding a few more dirty dishes. His elbows rest on the granite countertop as he washes and scrubs the last of the day's dinner ware. He washes one last porcelain plate, rinsing it off twice under the warm tap water before setting it up nicely on the drying rack.

It's then that he hears your items hit the floor. Despite the fact that his phone is on silent, that it rests in between the couch cushions in the living room, with (unbeknownst to him) one heart breaking voicemail from you, he knows something is wrong as soon as you step foot in the door.

Your hair is still tied back in a claw clip from work. It's beginning to give you a dull headache, and the office attire you're wearing suddenly feels too tight around your small frame. Your arms wrap around your torso, and you can feel when he steps into the room.

"Oh, baby… what happened?"

His voice is so quiet, his eyes fall when they land on you. Your own sparkling eyes slowly run up the expanse of his body, passing over his dark denim jeans, and his dark tee shirt until you meet his eyes. His dark, chocolate colored orbs soften under your gaze, and his lips part with trepidation. Just one soft stride forward and his arms are around you.

To be enveloped by him, swaddled by his embrace, is to know comfort. He holds you like a barrier, protecting you from any outside dangers or threats. When you fall into his arms, everything else melts away. Worries and concerns muddle together somewhere far away and forgotten, just for a moment, as he holds you. His chin rests on top of your head and his arms circle around your shoulders. The heat from his chest radiates as you nuzzle your nose into him. A few of your tears drip down, darkening his shirt.

"It was a really hard day Dutch… I-" you begin, interrupted by your small hiccup. At the noise, Dutch squeezes his arms a little tighter around you.

"Why don't I run you a bath? We can talk about it then if you want, my love." Dutch whispers against your hair. Lightly, you nod.

---

The smell of lavender and lemongrass wafts from the open bathroom door, swirling through the air carried by warm steam from the bathtub. You can see into the adjoined bathroom from your position in the bedroom as you struggle to remove your clothes. It has been the kind of day that drains you, that makes the simplest of tasks seem impossible.

Dutch is down on his knees, checking the temperature of the water from the tap. The water reflects off his fingers, encasing them in warm, clear liquid. He swirls the water slowly, creating a pile of bubbles that foam and pop against his hands.

"It's done, princess. Are you ready?" Dutch asks, hands resting on his belt as he pushes himself up and steps into the bedroom.

His eyes land on you as you struggle to unclasp your bra. Defeated, with tear streaks running down your face, you reach behind your back, unable to unclasp the plastic hooks.

"Come on, my dear. I can do it." Dutch mumbles, motioning for you to step toward him.

His hands are warm against your back as he expertly unclips the black lace and slides it down over your arms. The pile of mesh hits the floor with a soft thud.

"Thank you." You mumble, looking up to Dutch with an indescribable emotion as he leads you by the small of your back towards the footed porcelain tub. You're not just talking about his help with your clothes, you're thanking him for being here, for helping you. The water is cloudy with soap, accentuated by the dim candles that Dutch has situated around the room. A light hum of music from his radio reaches your ears from the kitchen.

"Of course."

Dutch helps you settle down into the water, and you practically groan at the release of tension in your muscles. Lavender and lemongrass swirl up to your nose, ridding you of your headache and filling you with tranquility. The back of your head rests against the lip of the tub, and your hair falls onto the outside in order to stay dry.

Dutch picks up a soft cotton washcloth, dipping it into the foamy water until it has soaked up enough. A small amount of wash is added to the cloth before he brings it towards your face. His touch is so gentle, lightly brushing the cloth against your skin until the makeup from the day has been washed down and mixed into the water below. The sweet scent of the bath along with Dutch’s steady breathing relaxes you into a sleepy state. It’s entirely calming, him cleaning you up. He takes his time, running the warm soapy cloth against your chest and back. He doesn’t miss the way you shudder as he washes your breasts and your thighs. In fact, the small movements, the subtle arch of your back drives him wild, but he’s a gentleman. After being rinsed, you soak down lower into the bath, smiling up at Dutch. His hands remain in the water, tracing lines across your hip. A soapy hand gently grips onto Dutch’s chin, pulling him down to kiss you. As he pulls away, you glance into his chocolate colored eyes, hoping for just one more little favor from him.

"Will you read to me?" You ask, taking your hand out of the water to place it over Dutch's.

Dutch grabs the book from the kitchen, returning with it and a glass of red wine for you. His rings clink against the glass as he hands it down to you, settling against the tub with his book. Your eyes drift shut as you sip at your wine, waiting for Dutch to begin.

"The real America can only be found, not in desires, but in the purity of its landscape."

Ah, he's reading Evelyn Miller's American Inferno. Of course he is, ever the lover of philosophy, your lover. A small smile cracks through your lips as he continues.

"Men are fixated on greed, on desire, and on the acquisition not of experiences or pleasures but the ability to acquire."

You ponder over the meaning of Miller's words for a bit. Philosophy is rather boring in your eyes, you would prefer a good romance novel over the philosophy of American greed any day. But, at the end of the day, it doesn't matter what Dutch is reading because he's reading it. His voice soothes you, as does the red wine, probably a little more than what's good.

After a while of sipping your drink and listening to Dutch, a slight buzz is thrumming through your veins, just enough to take the edge off. The water has grown a little colder, but you dare not get out and disrupt the perfection of this moment. The hand not holding your wine glass extends out of the bath to tuck a fallen piece of hair behind Dutch's ear. He's so handsome, dark hair contrasting his olive skin in the candlelight. His eyes are dark, pupils full blown as he reads. At your touch, his eyes trail over to you, stopping for just a second to look at your exposed, soapy breasts.

"You're so beautiful." Dutch whispers. Your skin glistens in the light from the water and soap that clings to it. Your cheeks flush pink at his compliment, and your eyes travel down to the suds below you. After a few moments of admiring you, Dutch returns to the book.

"Man is reduced to the desire for desire. Wanting is all that matters. Not loving, not being, not having, but wanting." Dutch whispers, dipping his other hand into the bathtub to trace lines down your thigh. Your breath quickens, pupils blown with lust at his touch.

"Mr. Miller is wrong on that account..." You whisper, taking Dutch's hand in your own underneath the soapy water. Your eyes are locked onto Dutch's as you continue.

"Man can want, love, desire and need. It matters, I've seen that it does, with you."

The hand that is holding onto Dutch's guides his fingers between your legs. His cold rings contrast greatly with the warm water, as he draws circles on your inner thigh.

"So you're suggesting that I've managed to break the systematic fault that Mr Miller writes so unfondly of?" Dutch asks, eyebrow raised with a smirk as he pinches the soft skin of your thigh.

"I'm saying that he knows nothing about man, about you, if he thinks that it's too far above him to desire, to love and to need."

At your words, Dutch raises an eyebrow, tongue licking over his bottom lip and resting there as he pushes two fingers inside of you. You almost drop your wine, setting it down on the side of the tub as Dutch stretches his fingers in a scissoring motion. Your hand grips onto Dutch's forearm, hair dipping slightly into the bath as you toss your head back.

"Even in all this water I can feel how drenched you are for me. I can feel you dripping." Dutch growls.

He curls his fingers up, smirking with a raised eyebrow when you whimper, digging your nails into his forearm. With no warning, Dutch pulls his fingers out of you. You whimper at the loss, confused, until Dutch grabs a big, fluffy gray towel from the bathroom cupboard and extends his hand out to you. He’s warmed it in the dryer, making the cotton even more inviting. You take it, sitting up out of the water and stepping out of the porcelain bath. Immediately wrapping the towel around your shoulders.

"Why don't I get you dried up..." Dutch says, brushing a fallen hair out of your face before leaning into your ear so close that his mustache tickles your earlobe.

"Then I'll get you wet again, how's that sound princess?" Dutch whispers, causing your eyes to flutter shut as a wave of need pulses through your body.

—

Now dried from your bath, you squeak when Dutch tosses you backwards onto the couch. The plush is soft against your bare skin as Dutch leans over you, meeting your lips in a hungry kiss. His lips are warm, and they taste like the scotch he’s been drinking combined with your wine. For a second he pulls away, but only to kneel on the floor before the couch, leaning in to kiss your jaw as you moan.

"Tonight's about you. Only you, baby." Dutch whispers against your heated skin, gently nipping at your collarbone. His hands grip onto your hips, thumb rubbing circles against your hip bone while his lips trail down between your breasts, placing soft kisses to the tender skin. Oh, you love him so. If he could have it his way he would please you over and over again without a care for his own pleasure. For Dutch, the best part is watching you unfold.

"I can't just- I have to give you something in return." You moan as Dutch's fingers ghost over your hardened nipples.

"Nonsense." Dutch whispers, kissing down your midsection until he rests between your legs. Your stomach aches with want as you spread your knees for Dutch.

He's gentle and slow, leaning down to kiss the inside of your right knee. Nothing can be heard but your quickening breaths as Dutch snakes his arms under your knees, pulling your hips closer towards the edge of the couch, closer to his mouth.

"D-Dutch?" You ask, unsure of his advances, your relationship is quite new, and Dutch hasn't gone this route with you yet. His dark eyes meet your own, glancing up from between your trembling legs.

"Oh, my dear…" Dutch whispers, hand coming up to brush his knuckles against your cheek. His golden rings are cold against your cheekbone, and a shiver runs up your spine.

"Trust me." Dutch asks of you. His eyes are deep with sincerity and you watch his tongue dart out over his lips for a second before you relax, nodding to him. All he has done for you, all he has given you, and Dutch has never once lied. The nerves that were tightening in your gut melt away. He loves you, more than anything, and you can trust him.

“Okay, I do, I trust you…”

Featherlight fingers trail down your thighs, massaging the tender skin. It sets your skin alive, just his hands on your legs. He traces the goosebumps, trailing down your knee.

"My beautiful girl…” Dutch growls.

He lifts your knees over his shoulders, placing them on either side of his head before moving inward. Wet, needy kisses are pressed to the insides of your thighs, dripping with your wetness in the candlelight. His needy breaths are warm on your thighs as he works on a particular spot, kissing, sucking and nipping all the like. A dark purple mark makes itself evident against your skin and Dutch eyes it with pride. Your breath hitches as he runs his thumb over the mark.

“Mine.” He growls, to which you nod.

“Yours, all yours Dutch. P-Please no more teasing, I-” you whimper, bucking your hips up in search of any type of friction. The throbbing between your legs has grown tenfold and you can feel your pulse quickening.

Dutch glances up to you, and you look so pretty before him, face flushed and eyes squinted shut as you grip onto the tops of your thighs. Your legs are trembling on his shoulders with pure want. If you asked, he would get you the moon. How could he ever deny you? His needy girl… so beautiful.

“Sorry princess, teased too much. I’ll take care of you now, just relax for me.” Dutch whispers against your heated skin. Your head rests back against the couch cushion, and you try to steady your breathing. It hitches in your throat when two thick fingers stretch into your cunt, curling up slowly. The pressure builds right in that sweet spot. His tongue finds your clit, and he flicks over it in rhythm with his fingers. The sensations he sends through you are blinding, seizing away any type of rational thoughts from your mind. The moans start falling from your parted lips and you can’t stop them if you try. Little wisps of hair cling to your face with a mixture of sweat and bathwater, but you can't bring yourself to brush them out of your face, too wrapped up in sensations.

“Goddamnit, you taste so good for me.” Dutch whispers against your core, warm breath against your clit sending a shiver up your spine.

Any former worries from the day fall away as Dutch takes care of you. The sight of you, spread before him just begging for his touch drives him wild. He wants for nothing more than to take you right now, over and over, watching those breathy little whimpers fall from your lips as you cum again and again, but you deserve nothing short of the princess treatment. Dutch’s mouth pulls away for a split second, and he glances up to your fluttering eyelashes with a smirk.

“Do you like that? Like how I’m touching your cunt?” Dutch growls, fixating on the contortions of your face as he pumps his fingers. Pleased with your quick nods, Dutch chuckles as you grip his hair and push his head back down in between your legs. Almost too quickly, you can feel the waves of pleasure rolling over you, crashing waves and drowning you all the like. Your thighs clamp down on Dutch’s head, and even then he doesn’t stop, working you with his mouth and hands until your climax peaks and falls. The noises you make- God, they drive him mad. His cock is hard pressed against the foot of the couch where he kneels, from your noises alone. You release his hair from your iron grip, apologizing lightly as you bring your knees down off of his shoulders. Your clit throbs from overstimulation and you wince slightly as you readjust yourself. Really it’s not a big deal, but of course he notices. Dutch’s brows draw together at your wince and he leans up from between your knees until he’s face to face.

“Too sensitive? Need a break?” Dutch asks, brushing the wet pieces of hair behind your ears. His mustache is glistening with your slick, causing a blush to form across your cheeks. He’s naughty.

“Just for a few minutes, I’m sorry.” You whisper, placing your hands on his chest.

Dutch smiles crookedly, running a finger from the jut of your jaw down to your chin.

“Oh, my dear… don’t apologize. It only gives me more time to wind you up.”

With a deep chuckle that causes your breath to hitch, Dutch brings his hands up to your breasts. Kisses are peppered along the underside of your jaw as Dutch makes slow circles around your hardened nipples. Subconsciously, you press your torso against his hands, leaning into his touch as you moan. Both hands wrap around his neck, and you grip into him like a lifeline. He presses his ring against your nipple. Its cold, hard surface almost has you climaxing before it's pulled away and replaced with his mouth. Kisses and gentle bites are pressed against your breasts as he works on a spot, leaving behind a few deliciously dark marks. You feel ready, the ache between your legs has been replaced with another blinding wave of arousal. Signaling this, you thrust your hips up against him, moaning when his cock brushes against your folds.

“I could touch you like this all day, hear those sweet moans, hear you crying out my name. Shit, princess.” Dutch groans as you grind against him.

He stands up from the ground, keeping his arm outstretched to you as he sits down beside you on the couch. You’re a little confused, and the crease between your eyebrows makes itself evident until he reaches over and pulls you into his lap. You straddle his thighs, facing him and wrapping your arms around his neck. This position gives you leverage to choose your own pace, it'll also provide deeper penetration, which you’re glad for.

You lean in to catch his lips, relishing in the taste of whiskey combined with your slick. His lips alternate between soft and greedy, like he’s trying to hold himself back. You pull away with a cocky grin, leaning up to allow him entrance.

“Don’t hold back, Mr. van der Linde.” You chastise, sliding the whole way down onto his length. The groan that tears through the air is nothing short of heavenly. Hell, you could climax on the spot from the sound alone. His hands hold onto your hips with an iron-like grip, leaving bruises as he lifts you up a little, only to ram back into you. His hips are vulgarly slapping against the flesh of your ass as you lean against his chest. His dark chest hair brushes against your stiffened nipples with every thrust, sending waves of pleasure through your body with every movement.

“My pretty girl, you’re so good for me.” Dutch growls, fucking up into you. You rock your hips in motion with his, riding him as he takes you. Your nails leave little scratches from where they dig into his back and neck, but you don’t notice, head thrown back as you cry out his name. He digs his nose into your neck, kissing and nipping at your pulse point while one hand snakes between your bodies to massage your clit.

“Yeah, I know you like that, princess. Let me hear that beautiful voice.” Dutch commands, hips thrusting erratically as you moan his name. It sounds so much more beautiful coming from your lips. He never thought the name ‘Dutch’ to be anything special, but oh to hear this? To hear you crying out his name as you ride him? Well he would do anything to stay in this moment.

Tightness pools in your gut and you feel the cliff that you’re approaching. Your legs burn from rocking against Dutch’s hips, but you can’t bring yourself to mind. You’re too drunk on pleasure to care.

“Oh, I’m so close, Dutch- so close. Don’t stop.” You beg, digging your groin down against his fingers harder, and clenching at the friction.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my dear.”

Taking the cue from your needy whines and the way you’re dragging your clit against his hand, Dutch picks up the pace. He thrusts up into you hard, driven by the divine sounds that you’re making. He uses his hands, and rings, to his advantage, stimulating your sensitive bud with the cool metal as he circles it.

Dutch groans when he feels the clench of your thighs around his legs, the constricting of your walls around his shaft. Blinding pleasure shoots through you like a shockwave, tightening every muscle and causing you to rock against Dutch with whimpering, shuddering breaths. He works you through it, keeping a steady pace as he talks you through it.

“My good girl, that's it. Shhh… easy, easy” Dutch coos, sliding in and out as he rubs your clit. It’s almost too much. You shudder against him, hands clamping down on his shoulders as your moans echo loudly throughout the house. If you hadn’t already woken up your neighbors, surely they’re up now. His name falls from your lips like a mantra, for a few moments you can’t form any type of coherent speech other than the words: “ohh,” “yes!” and “Dutch!”

Not that he's complaining…

As you come down from your orgasm, whimpering and whining at the overstimulation of his hips thrusting into you, he feels his own approaching.

"Oh, baby. I'm gonna-" Dutch begins, but you interrupt him by crashing your lips against his own. Immediately you allow him access to your mouth, and he laps your taste up like a starved man. His mustache brushes along your lips as he bites the lower one, causing a little pain to shoot through it before he licks the spot and eases it.

His thrusts grow quick, sporadic and untamed and you breath hotly as he hits your sweet spot with every movement. One last deep thrust and a guttural groan that teats through the room like a knife, he spills his spend inside of you. You lean your forehead against his own, sweat dripping down your skin as Dutch whispers.

"Feeling better then?"

You nod against him, not moving in order to soak up every ounce of this moment.

"I love you…" Your voice falters for a moment, overcome with emotion from the way Dutch has taken care of you. He's heard your admissions of love before, but this time it is so raw that his heart cracks.

"I love you too, princess… Now c'mon. Between the two of us, it appears we're gonna need to run another bath."

#dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde #dutch x reader #dutch van der linde x female reader #dutch van der linde smut #rdr2 dutch #rdr2 fanfiction

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stormflower8 · 8 months

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south asian!ballister part three!

it's times like these where I can't help but feel a little bad for people who have little to no interest in these headcanons, because this is my third day in a row posting these and I feel as though they may be clogging up the tags a little bit

oH WELL

speaking of, part one is here, and part two is here!

also, I saw someone asking if people can use these in their own headcanons or fics or art and YES, absolutely yes!! but if you do, please tag me (or whatever the equivalent of that is, I'm still very new to tumblr, this is like my fourth post) because I would love to see it!!

okay I ripped up tumblr to find this but this stream of headcanons is inspired by this post!

specifically this part "I find the idea of Nimona not being able to handle spicy food but loving it at the same time hilarious Especially considering the fact that they’re living with two Asian men and Asians don’t play about spice (I swear to this day my Mama burned both her and my tastebuds off) They try really hard to look tough and eat all the food they’re given But snot is running down their face and there are tears in their eyes and they need to take constant breaks Poor baby coughs when you add sriracha to their food Whereas Bal and Ambrosius are out here guzzling hot sauce like it’s water Nimona prays on their downfall while also begging the boys to teach them their ways"

credit to @a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual for the above segment

so, naturally, ballister and ambrosius have an incredibly high spice tolerance

back in their institute days, they would have little contests on who could intake the most spice without faltering

neither of them could consistently best the other, it was inconsistent results and basically was just a 50/50 situation

ambrosius is the kind of person to eat a ghost pepper straight and be like "oh that's kind of spicy" in the most casual but mildly interested voice ever. as if he's pleasantly surprised

pre-canon, ambrosius would have bal test the spice level of dishes, but post-canon, he realized that wasn't the best idea, so he gave the job to nimona instead

there's this south asian condiment called "achaar", and it's basically... okay I have no idea how to explain it but the wikipedia definition is South Asian pickles, also known as Avalehikā, Uppinakaayi, Pachadi, Loncha or Noncha, Achaar, Athāṇu or Athāṇo or Athāna, Khaṭāī or Khaṭāin, Sandhan or Sendhan or Sāṇdhāṇo, Kasundi, or oorugaai is a pickled food made from a variety of vegetables and fruits preserved in brine, vinegar, edible oils, and various South Asian spices.

it basically adds a sort of tangy spicy flavor to your food

and while that sounds kind of strange I swear it's good

actually I don't like achaar very much but I've heard from family members that it's good LMAO

anyways, ballister uses it religiously. he LOVES that shit

there is a jar of achaar on the table at all times

ambrosius doesn't like it and it's too spicy for nimona, but they get it anyways because of how much ballister likes it

speaking of food,

there are certain south asian foods that ballister really holds close to his heart

like, he got them at the orphanage, but never at the institute

so like, street foods

specifically pani puri (also called golgappa and probably more names) because it's my favorite

for those of you who don't know what that is, it literally translates to "water (pani) deep fried bread (puri)" but that is the worst explanation ever so just google it

ballister, obviously, can't cook anything except rice and chai (I mean, seriously, just look at him. he's banned from the kitchen), so he never learned to make any of those traditional south asian recipes he loves

one day, post-canon, ambrosius finds a place that specializes in pani puri and remembers ballister describing them to him pre-canon and decides to grab some

he brings them home and when he shows ballister, Ballister was silent for a moment, a tantalizing, tense moment that had Ambrosius all but holding his breath. His anxiety began rising as his gaze flickered from Ballister to his setup on the table and back again. Maybe I misread his reminiscence all those years ago, Ambrosius panicked internally. Oh god, maybe I completely misremembered it and he has no connection to this at all. Or, worse, I crossed a line I shouldn't have even approached. "Uh," Ambrosius managed an awkward chuckle. "I saw a place, and it reminded me of something you once said, and I thought it might be a good idea but I guess it wasn't and I probably shouldn't have led with 'I have a surprise you'll like' because that just sets up expectations and-" His rapid-fire speech was completely silenced when Ballister crossed the room in a few long strides, cupped Ambrosius's face in his hands, whispered "I love you so much." in a voice that sounded almost choked up, and kissed him.

anyways, south asian food, especially street food, holds an incredibly special place in his heart

this last one I'm kind of torn on my approach to it, but it still felt worth throwing in the pot

horrible pakistani dramas

god I hate them

so, there are two options here

option A, ballister hates them too

he can't stand them, he complains about them whenever they come up, if for whatever reason he has to watch one he'll rip apart the plot so much so that the writers would never recover if they heard him

or option B, ballister has a love/hate relationship with them

because let's be real, no one other than my thrice divorced aunt ACTUALLY likes them

now option B can go a number of different ways

maybe bal really hates the idea of them and hates the plot, but goddamnit it, they STILL get him stupidly invested in the plot to the point where he's yelling at all the characters in urdu and on the verge of ugly crying and going on an angry rant and just bundling himself up in a miserable blanket blob

or maybe he hates them in theory, but they're a guilty pleasure that he only really indulges in for the kind of entertainment where it's so bad it's entertaining

I honestly have no clue if ANY of those are in character, but I'm sure if I shoot either one of them or some combination of multiple, it'll be at least slightly accurate, right?

finally, two super short ones!

ballister has a rule against no shoes in the house

"oh, but he's seen wearing shoes in the house in the movie!" uh, yeah, in a dusty ass abandoned tower. only AFTER he had it all cleaned out and actually furnished (post-canon) did he (and ambrosius!) start taking off their shoes indoors

and

he sits down to eat or drink

even just a glass of water, he'll sit down for it

even if 'sitting down' entails sitting on a table

it's just a force of habit at this point

looking at my notes, that is actually everything I have written down! this means that these headcanons will probably cease now, as it might take me a while to come up with more.

we'll see though!

-Storm

#nimona 2023 #nimona #ballister boldheart #riz ahmed #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #south asian #desi #supposedly drinking water sitting down is good for you #but I'm not sure if that's right #don't quote me on that

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ynmnrmt · 2 months

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You & Me & Rhea Makes Three: Chapter 7

rhea ripley x m!reader x m!reader's girlfriend

word count: 3,803

warnings: explicit sexual content, themes of domination/submission, dubiously consensual nonmonogamy, relationship drama, violence/threat, noncon fantasy

a/n: Our heroes deal with the fallout from what happened last chapter - which, I'm warning you now, I continue to deal with in an incredibly blithe way.

(The story so far: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six)

“She did what?” Jennifer is white with fury.

“I really think it was just a misunderstanding.” You certainly feel confused about it, anyway. “We were – uh – talking about fantasies, and one thing sort of led to another.”

“You said no. Repeatedly.”

“Yeah, but, the thing is, that was sort of on the subject-”

Jennifer storms from the room. You follow her into the kitchen just in time to see her draw the biggest knife from the block. “I’m going to kill the bitch,” she says, quite simply, and as she advances you do too, into her path, you take hold of her arms, somewhere between trying to prevent a murder and trying to prevent any more talk or what might or might not have been done to you.

“Please,” you say, without the stomach to shout, “put it down.”

“Why?” Jennifer roars at you. “Why the fuck are you defending her? Why are you doing that?”

You still have hold of her arms, the blade of the knife wavering too close to your wrist, but now you are frozen. You genuinely do not have an answer, not one you can bring yourself to tell her. But then you both hear the door close. “Hey!” Rhea’s voice floats through, bright and cheerful. “I got us sushi!”

Through in the front room there are three punnets of sushi side by side on the table, chopsticks and all. Rhea bustles up from behind and kisses you both on the cheek. If it really had been rape, you tell yourself, you wouldn’t have welcomed that then. Then she says “Come see, come look at this” as she spreads a magazine out next to the sushi. It shows some tasteful, panoramic shots of what looks like an Italian palazzo.

“What’s this?” asks Jennifer, fragile like glass.

“I figured, we don’t want to live here forever,” smiles Rhea. “It’s got three bedrooms, one for each of us, and also one very big bedroom.”

“Look, Rhea, never mind this, we need to – is that a corner bath?” Jennifer sets the knife down on the table, and leans over the glossy spread in the magazine, immediately hypnotised by all those columns.

“Yeah, they were going for some kind of neoclassical, but they did it right, not just slapping on a cornice here and there.” You squeeze in between them, looking at what apparently might be your new home. “And it’s got acres of space, it’s even got a stable if we want to up and turn into horse people.”

You look sideways at Jennifer. You had never in your life thought she’d be able to fulfil that childhood fantasy, or more pointedly, that you’d be able to fulfil it for her. “What’s the price tag on this?” you ask.

“Oh, fuck that,” says Rhea, as if that’s an afterthought. “I can put down twice the deposit tomorrow.”

“Can you?” You have never been too clear on how, exactly, being a WWE superstar pays.

“It’d clean me out a bit – but I don’t care, I don’t give a shit about the money, I just want to be with you guys and make you happy.” Rhea has no interest in the mansion she’s apparently willing to drop her life savings on, she only has eyes for you and Jennifer. She lowers her voice and adds “I want to break in every one of those beds.”

“I’m sure you do,” you say, and try to sound casual with it, as if it doesn’t still make something bloom in your heart, as if you don’t wish with every fibre of your being that you could all just go off to bed together, right now, and everything could be alright. And now Jennifer looks at you, this is unmistakably your cue to say something beyond a wafer-thin pleasantry over your real feelings. “Rhea, that time, the other night, before Jen got back-”

“I hope I wasn’t too rough with you,” says Rhea fondly, and touches your chest.

“Rhea, I-” Did you really say no? Did you even, actually, say that? “I asked you to stop.”

“That,” what crosses her face now is the kind of horror you have become so familiar with, and now greet as an old friend, “I thought that was part of the game.” No, this is past whatever petty guilt you ever felt over betraying Jennifer, she looks distraught. And then she looks at the knife Jennifer set down on the table, and as Jennifer squirms she breaks down in tears.

“Rhea…” begins Jennifer.

Rhea reaches out for her hand – but then, as if struck by some fresh pang of pain, collapses and sprawls on the floor, face screwed up. She sniffles for a moment, then cries out again, hardly even words, just grief. When she finally struggles up off the carpet, all she can say is “I’m sorry.”

“You raped my boyfriend, Rhea,” says Jennifer, but with none of the fury she’d had about it only minutes ago. Now it’s like she’s trying to get the facts down.

“I – oh, God – I didn’t mean to,” Rhea insists, voice shaking, still looking at the floor. “I genuinely thought that it was – I never meant to hurt you.” She’s found your hand, she clutches it, tight, it does hurt slightly. And as she does, you see Jennifer look down at her, with a little smirk of satisfaction.

“It’s like I say,” you say, trying to get some circulation back into your fingers, “we were talking about rough sex, and, and that as a fantasy, and stuff.”

Rhea tugs your arm, now you are down on the floor with her. She stares into your soul with red eyes and commands you “Do not make excuses for me. Do not do that, you have done nothing wrong, and, and I…” She wails again, and buries her head in your shoulder. Because she is twice your size this quickly ends up with you on your back, and her on top of you, again. “Please don’t,” she’s saying now, “please don’t.”

“Rhea,” Jennifer attempts, “Rhea, get off him.”

Rhea gets clumsily to her feet. “Maybe,” she snuffles, “maybe you should. I don’t even understand whether…” She presses her fist to her mouth – then throws her arms wide. “Go ahead, stick me. I want you to do it.”

From down on the floor, you do see Jennifer look at the knife. But she only says “Rhea, come on.”

“No! No, do it! I don’t want to hurt you any more, I don’t want to do that! I don’t want – fucking stick me!”

You manage to stand up. You take the knife from the table – and, trying desperately to ignore the shouts and tears swirling around you, you walk it back into the kitchen and put it firmly back in the block. Then you rejoin the two women in your life, and say “Sit down.” It’s quite a relief when they do. Rhea’s still sniffling, wiping the tears from her face, and by now Jennifer is as well. “Look. I’m glad we’re taking this stuff seriously. But,” you haven’t prepared for this, you can feel the wing and the prayer, “we can’t – we’re waving knives around, something has gone wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” repeats Rhea, doubled over in her seat, clutching at Jennifer, the woman she’d asked to plunge a knife into her chest seconds earlier.

“I’m sorry too,” says Jennifer, and squeezes Rhea’s hand. “I just got so angry.” It comes out of her mouth as a bubble.

“Alright,” you nod. “In all honesty, I didn’t really mind. I just think we all need to be a bit more...a bit more careful, and a bit more considerate, of each other.” They nod at you, gazing at you with their big, puffy eyes, and that breaks your heart a little, so you sit down between them and say “Come here” and hold them both close. You can get your arm the whole way around Jessica.

“Thank you,” whimpers Rhea, so near to you it rustles the fine hairs in your ear. “I,” she swallows in the way of desperately trying to keep control, “really didn’t realise you wanted me to stop. I thought we were just having fun.”

“Well, I have to look at it this way,” you say, “if there’s anyone in the world I’d rather be raped by, she’s right here.” You give Jennifer a squeeze. There’s some gasps and then some laughs, and you thank God you got the tone right on that one.

Before long Rhea is on top of you again, her tongue down your throat. When she pulls it back to bite at your lips you manage you blurt out “Rhea, I’m going to come.”

“Oh, cool!” she says – and she tightens her grip of Jennifer’s hair, and pulls the smaller woman’s mouth free from your cock. Then she grabs you and starts working you over, you imagine yourself as a cow being milked. “What do you think?” Rhea asks Jennifer, as she gasps for breath. “You want his come in your face?”

“Yes,” she gasps, strings of drool hanging from her lips, “oh fuck, yes” and so when Rhea twists her hand around the head of your cock you give it to her, not able to help yourself, you hose her down. A jet across her cheek, into her mouth, then in her eye, and she tries to turn away, spluttering. Then Rhea forces her back onto your cock, or at least towards it now her mouth’s closed a bit, and you see the struggle there, and then she rests against you with a contented “Mmm.”

“Good girl,” says Rhea, and gives Jennifer’s head a little shake before pulling up to her feet. But this isn’t by the hair, she’s still holding Jen’s hair but the hand you’ve just defiled is on Jen’s arm as well, bearing her weight. Rhea gets in close, holding Jen tight, and whispers to her “One day I’m going to make him take your cute little ass”, then takes a long lick of her face, where your come landed, halfway cleaning her up. “How’d you feel about that?”

Jennifer’s head lolls back, she looks sideways at Rhea, unable to form words. When they finally come out it’s “That sounds really exciting”, and it’s coupled with a hopeful glance towards you, “you talking about that makes me wet.”

Rhea laughs, and throws Jen down on the couch beside you. Immediately she wriggles into your grasp, happy. Then Rhea swears. “Is that the time? Ah, God, I’ve got some promo or other in an hour. Amuse yourselves, won’t you?” She ducks into her room. You’ve hardly got your breath back when she re-emerges, now in black latex from thigh to chest. Jen stiffens up at this striking sight, and so do you. Rhea dips her head shyly. “Don’t wait up. Actually, do.”

And then the door closes, and then you are alone with your girlfriend.

“Are you really okay with that?” you ask her.

“Sure,” she says, and nuzzles into your bare chest, sticking only slightly.

“I wasn’t sure if that was something you’d like.” What is the polite way to broach the subject of anal sex, anyway?

“I don’t know. Might be fun.”

“If you’d like we could try it right now.” The way she smiles up at you forces you to offer the pragmatic adjustment of “Well, in ten minutes or so.”

The time passes quickly. In lieu of real lubricant, you steal one of Rhea’s watermelon-sized tubs of body oil. And although it seems more traditional to do this from behind, you lay Jennifer down on her back, so you can see her face, because you love her.

“Should I wash up first?” she asks, and she must be nervous, because you see her clench.

“I figure we’d wash afterwards anyway,” you shrug. God, she is nervous. She’s trembling as you take a handful of lube, before you’ve even touched her, you say “I’m going to put it on you now, okay?” as if this will somehow make it better. It seems somehow mechanical when you spread it over her ass, though this is partially you working up the courage to put it where it actually needs to go. When your slicked-up finger touches her there she gasps, so it’s very gently that you work it inside, barely even past the tip. “How’s that?” you ask, looking anxiously down at her.

Jennifer is biting her lip, and just nods, all wide-eyed.

You assume the position, and grease up your cock, so thoroughly that you get the tops of your legs too, it all looks very shiny between you and Jen so hopefully this will work. You read in a book once that one of the biggest pitfalls is to jam up against the perineum, so you are careful to avoid that, and aim directly into her ass before you start to push.

It’s not the way you imagined. Once you’re in past that initial tight spot it’s not the clenching all-encompassing core of her being you’d faintly imagined it would be, as you poke around that softer tissue it really does seem like all those vulgar sayings about rearranging your partner’s guts. You work yourself in slowly and awkwardly, and say “I hope this doesn’t hurt for you.”

Jen looks up at you winsomely, your come dried up on her face. “The thing is I – ah – hoped it would, not bad or anything, not like that. But, to sort of, make it a sacrifice, a sort of ultimate gesture of…” She trails off as her hand drifts in towards you and she starts to masturbate. “I hope you make it hurt just a little more.”

So you squeeze yourself inside, the way you would trying to resist the urge to use the bathroom, and push harder. It seems self-defeating, you don’t want to hurt her, and it doesn’t seem like you do, she just squirms and makes little noises that might be faint discomfort but are more likely desire.

It feels, and you are revolted at conceiving of Jen in such a manner, like the time you tried to masturbate with a plastic ring when you had not long discovered the practice. But you were a young boy, and that was more than enough, and here, with your pretty girlfriend splayed out in front of you this is more than enough to have you dancing on the point of orgasm already.

You bring her left leg up, against your chest and your face, and you take hold of it. It’s for greater leverage, you tell yourself, she said she wanted it to be forceful, as you cling onto her thigh like a bush baby and rest your face in the softness of her calf.

“Oh yeah,” she says, in a low guttural way you’re surprised to have conjured, “yeah, keep going, rape my virgin ass.” Should this stop you in your tracks? Because it doesn’t, it makes you go at her harder, she’s prompting you, she must be, when she adds “keep raping my fucking asshole” you slow down and lean past her leg.

“Is – is this okay?” you ask.

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes glitter at you.

“Alright, I’ll go a bit rougher, I just don’t want to hurt you,” and you don’t, of course you don’t, but when she grabs your arm and pulls you see the shock cross her face as you fully enter her. For a second you really are worried, before her wide-eyed alarm melts into hazy bliss. And you find yourself going all the way in and out, so her tightest spot will squeeze around the head of your cock, it’s selfish but you still give her what she wants, exactly what she wants by the sounds of it.

When you do it this way, even as slick and sloppy as you both are all lubed up, you find you need to really push, to put some force in your hips each time you penetrate her again. When you do, she takes short, sharp breaths of shock, it shouldn’t really be a surprise by now, but still you worry she won’t like it. And she, in her turn, puts a hand on her pussy and starts scrubbing away at her clit. This time, as you dive back in, she gives a little mewl, almost of pain, and to your horror the sound nearly gets you off there and then.

Later, Jennifer comes up behind you in the kitchen, and hugs and squeezes you, and says “I’m still really worried about Rhea raping you.”

You find her hand and squeeze her back. “God, you break my heart sometimes. We’ve talked this through, we know it’s not going to happen again.” Is this, you wonder somewhere deep and dark, a resolution to simply go along with it next time? Is that kind of what you wanted anyway?

“I know,” says Jen, sounding as if she might stamp her foot, “I know we’ve talked it over and we’ve set boundaries, and she is sorry, I know she is, but I just kind of – I find that – when you’re in the moment and things are happening, and when you’re turned on,” her hand drifts up your chest onto your neck, “suddenly the rules aren’t really there any more – do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” you say, faintly distracted. “Yeah, I do get that, and sometimes I get worried too, that I might be pushing you into something that you’d prefer not to do.”

“So I had this idea, for how I could keep you safe.” She puts something on the table in front of you, a metal device with a lock and keys dangling from it, which you know is a chastity cage. “I know we’ve talked about this before.” It’s true, you have, somehow it came up as a topic one long night and you sort of showed your hand by explaining what it is and what it’s for, and yes, you did tell her the idea excited you but you said it as a half-joke, like something you’d never do for real, and you both had some fun talking about how it would stop you from cheating on her. Which had seemed so unlikely at the time.

“I don’t think this is really necessary.” It excited you then, it excites you now, yet still you’re worried what she’ll think of you if you go for it. There’s all the associations, for one thing, all those fairly extreme and often quite racist things the pornographers throw in with it, that seem to have very little to do with the fun power dynamics of having a woman lock your penis away. “Honestly, I think Rhea’s scared of what you might do.”

“I know, I still feel so awful about that, and that’s sort of played into this – it would really set my mind at ease, if I knew you were safe. Plus,” her voice turns lower and breathier, “it gives me a little thrill, too. I could, I could sort of tease you with the keys, and make you ask permission before you can even get properly hard. But obviously we could unlock it, whenever we...I’m sorry, that probably sounds so weird.” That is more or less what you’d hoped for as a wildest dreams best case scenario.

“I do worry about-” you stop yourself in your tracks. There is no way, in this context, to say you are concerned for how Rhea will feel about this. This is, after all, a throwing down of the gauntlet, a declaration that you’re not allowed to have sex with Rhea unless Jen says so, which, to be honest, also squares nicely with that best case scenario. “You’re not going to make me dress up like a girl, are you?”

Jen giggles, and grabs you. “You’d make a terrible girl.” You laugh at that too. “No, that wouldn’t be any fun, and besides, we’ve already got two mixed up in all this, that’d just be more of the same.” This is, though you couldn’t bear to admit it, a big relief. “And obviously I’d let you have the key any time you wanted, all else being equal I wouldn’t want to add another step into the whole process. It’s just a precaution, but it’s one that – well, that I hope we could make sexy and fun.”

You smile, even if only to yourself. Not for anywhere near the first time, you reflect that you don’t deserve her. “I hope we can too.”

“So – so you’re alright with this?” Yes, Christ, how will it have been for her, actually raising the question? She is, at least, clearly confident that you’re no domestic abuser.

“Sure,” you say, turning to face her, “anything to make you feel better,” as if you’re not into this too. She concusses you slightly when she jumps up to kiss you. Then she kneels, to pull your pants down, accompanying herself with little ‘ooh’s and ‘hee-hee’s which seem all too appropriate in the circumstances. It’s when she cups your balls, holding them and your cock in her hand, that you realise the gravity of it being a metal cage. A plastic one, you could find a way to break it if it came to it, and there was always the insane fantasy of being so penile-ly powerful that you could get an erection hard enough to rend it asunder. But there’s no arguing with metal.

The steel ring is the first part to chill your skin, neatly separating your genitals from the rest of your body. Jen looks up at you from on her knees, no words, just a look that threatens to break your heart again. You’ve already worked up a half-chub so she can’t simply slip the cage on over your cock, she has a bit of a struggle with it, you try desperately not to get any more aroused but she’s literally touching you there.

“Let me,” you say, and when you take hold of the cage yourself she rises gracefully and kisses you full on the cheek, you try your best to ignore that. It takes a minute or two, some deep breaths, some scatterbrain attempts to think of anything else and a firm bite of your own cheek, but yes, there it is, it’s on. Jen swoops back down again to loop the padlock through the two parts, and then there is a click.

“God, that sounded…” muses Jen, suddenly breathless herself. Then she kisses you again, on the cage, and you feel half of it. “I hope you feel safer.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Halfway confused, halfway horny, suspicious of her motives and guilty over the suspicion. But then, what’s new?

#rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x you #rpf #rhea ripley fanfiction #rhea ripley smut

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jungwnies · 1 year

Text

partners ✰ 14 friend-zoned

masterlist | next

you knock on the door and soobin opens up.

"y/n, it's late, what are you doing here?" he asks, his eyes a little groggy and closed.

you slightly nudge him to the side and go inside, "i messed up."

soobin closes the door behind him and follows you to the couch where you just plopped down on. he sits down and hands you the throw blanket that was laying on the couch.

"what are you talking about?" soobin asks, confused, but worried. "and why is your hair wet, it's freezing outside, you're going to get sick, you're covered in sand too, y/n, what happened?"

you laugh and shake your head, "he took me to the beach, i kissed him, he pulled away, we left."

"wait wait wait, you kissed him?" soobin asks, shocked.

"yeah, i should've known better." you say laughing.

"hold on, i need to hear more about this." soobin says standing up. "i'm going to make some tea and take out some snacks, if you go into my room you'll find the hair dryer, you can change if you want too." he adds before walking to the kitchen.

you look in the bedroom mirror and laugh at yourself, wow i'm pathetic. you fix yourself up before going back out to soobin who greeted you with tea and snacks.

he pats the seat beside him and you sit there, "so, tell me more about this, do you like him?" soobin asks, holding the cup carefully.

you shrug, "yes? i think? i don't know?" you tell him laughing. "well, yes, i do, i'm just not sure if he feels the same way."

soobin looks at you endearingly, "i think he would be an idiot to reject you."

"i shouldn't have kissed him, it just made things awkward between us don't you think?" you ask, sighing.

"did he pull back immediately or was it an 'oh shit i shouldn't have done that, but i did' kind of thing?" soobin asks, full of curiosity.

"well, he kissed me back before he pulled away, but it's still awkward because he got up and out of the water after that." you tell soobin.

"did he leave without you?"

you shake your head, "we left together, i told the driver to take me here."

"do you think he saw me when i opened the door for you?" soobin asks, leaning back. "maybe he thinks you and i are dating."

you laugh, "what?"

"i mean think about it y/n, it's always been you and i, and a lot of people already mistake our friendship for something else."

"i should just talk to him before we have to mc again, the fans will notice something is off." you explain with stress clearly tainting your tone.

"don't worry too much about it, i'm sure he feels the same way about you." soobin reassures you.

"he called me, his best, fucking, friend, nothing more." you say with a distraught laugh. "a best friend..." you sigh, trailing off and leaning back into the sofa.

・・・

"thanks for letting me stay the night bin, i'll let you know what happens." you tell him waving as you get into the taxi. soobin waves back and the taxi driver drives off.

you pull out your phone and go to jake's contact. you press the dial, and within a few seconds, the familiar australian accent greets the phone. "hello?"

"jake, can we meet up?" you ask, nervously.

"of course, just let me know where."

・・・

the two of you sat on your couch quietly. it was awkward. but of course it was going to be awkward, the last thing that happened when you guys met was a kiss.

"so..." the two of you say in unison. you chuckle slightly and sigh.

"i'm really sorry about last time, i shouldn't have done it." you apologize looking down, but the genuine showing clearly on your expression.

"i don't forgive you." jake says.

word count: 659 | thanks for reading!

taglist: @whoisalexis,@baldi2,@giraffeass,@tlnyjoong,@hanienie,@yelleloww,@ghostiiess,@silcry,@reikofruitloops,@aetzensvct,@ohbeomgyu,@xiaoderrrr,@moonshoon,@kimipxl,@lalalalawon,@iea-tsand,@shinsou-rii,@vanillabeanwaffle,@Blkkgirlmagic, @bubblytaetae,@xuxibelle,@justyx0n,@noascats [open - bolded could not be tagged]

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runningfrom2am · 11 months

Text

the sea around us; chapter fourteen

In which Rafe Cameron has to choose between his dad and a pogue who's changing his outlook on life more and more every day.

(rafe cameron x f!oc)

(eventual!jj maybank x f!oc)

warnings/tags: violence, drug/alcohol use, smoking, sexual content (if you squint), slowburn, older brother’s best friend, (these tags are obv not exhaustive but regardless it’s pretty PG13)

wc: 3.6k

my masterlist

series masterlist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･

I text Kie after work and let her know that Rafe invited me to Midsummers with him, and she is excited to have some company. She hates these kook events, especially since half the island still doesn't have power after the hurricane, and she's right, it is pretty ridiculous, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't excited anyways.

I figure that now is as good a time as any to go shopping for what I'm going to wear. I don't want to spend all that money Rafe gave me because it was an insane amount- I've never held that much cash in my life. Kie gave me a run down over facetime as to what the dress code is like, and I take that into account while I'm shopping. Heels, and a formal(ish) dress. That I can work with.

On the day of the event, I spend pretty much the whole morning pacing around John B's, terrified. I'm definitely not going to fit in. I mean, even Kegs isn't going, and he is pretty much a kook at this point. It's too late to back out though. By 2:45, I'm sitting on the porch just staring at the driveway.

"Hey, Snowy, you hear that?" John B says, leaning out of the door, looking at me knowingly.

"Oh my god, yes." I laugh, standing up as he tosses me a can. "I am shitting myself, seriously." I chuckle, using a key to open the bottom of the can as John B laughs at me while he does the same.

"Aye! Without me?" We hear JJ yell, running up to the porch from where he was in the backyard working on his bike.

I roll my eyes and hand my can as he gets up on the porch with us, and John B reaches into the cooler and tosses me another. "What's the occasion?" JJ asks us and John B shrugs.

"I'll drink to that," JJ answers as I open myself a can. Again.

"I'm drinking so I don't puke in Rafe's car- I'm scared to death," I explain, laughing and shaking my hand off as some of the beer runs down my arm.

"Is this not more likely to make you puke?" JJ laughs.

"Yes, but not from nervousness."

"Ah, that makes sense." He agrees, and I hold out my can to cheer them. They do the same.

"To Snowy's kook initiation." John B jokes as we clink our cans together, making us laugh.

"To Snowy going full kook!" JJ adds, then we quickly down our drinks, throwing the cans into the corner simultaneously, as I gag from the taste.

"I don't know how that is your guys's drink of choice." I cough, covering my mouth with my arm. I look up, seeing that during our shotgun, Rafe had pulled into the driveway.

"Oh shit, guys I gotta run," I say, running inside to grab the bag that my dress was in and a couple of plastic bags with the rest of my stuff I need to get ready.

"Bye, Snowy, we may or may not see you later." JJ winks and John B elbows him.

"I'll be home tonight, I swear this time." I laugh, brushing past them.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure." John B jokes and I roll my eyes.

"See you!" I yell back at them, waving before getting in Rafe's car.

"Hey," Rafe smiles as he puts the car into reverse and backs out of the driveway.

"Hi," I smile back, folding up the dress bag on my lap. "I'm so excited- equally as nervous though."

"Ah," He chuckles. "Is that what the shotgun was about?"

"Yeah, John B is a great therapist." I joke.

"Oh, no doubt," Rafe says as we drive down the road, heading to Tannyhill.

Neither of us say much until we're crossing the bridge into figure eight, but I spent the whole time racking my brain for something to fill the silence with. "So, you didn't send me any pictures of the dress. How do I know what to expect?" Rafe speaks before I come up with anything.

"I thought you were joking." I laugh softly, looking over at him.

"Well, kind of, but I mean I wouldn't have been opposed to it." He shrugs, glancing over at me.

"Okay, well, it's green, kind of like a satiny material I guess, I don't know what else to say about it. Pretty average." I try and describe it.

"Oh, nice. I'm sure it'll look great."

I sigh a little and decide to just speak my thoughts. "I'm scared because, like, I don't know how to dress for nice events so like, I would literally rather die than be overdressed so I'm scared I'm going to be underdressed and I'm going to stick out and I don't want to draw more attention to you because you brought a pogue who's not welcome there-"

Rafe laughs a little and shakes his head. "See? You should have sent me pictures so I could have confirmed and then you wouldn't be worried right now." He says, reaching across and playfully pushing my shoulder, with a force so soft it was like he was scared I would break.

"Oh god you're right." I say, putting my face in my hands. "I mean, I asked Kie her thoughts but I just don't know."

"Hey, woah, it's fine. I'm sure it's perfect, but hey, take a look at Sarah and Wheezie's dresses when we get there and read the vibe and if you try yours on and it doesn't feel right I am sure Sarah has another one you can borrow, yeah?" He says, resting his hand on my thigh and giving it a light squeeze to reassure me. "Just don't panic."

"You're right. Yeah..." I say, pushing my hair back behind my ears and nodding. I don't have any reason to panic, but I'd still feel guilty and embarrassed about borrowing something. Honestly though, I feel guilty and embarrassed about how much money he had to spend on me to have me here and that I'm going to have to talk to lots of kook adults when I'm already at a disadvantage because they know where I'm coming from.

Rafe flips his hand on my lap and shakes his fingers a little, signaling for me to grab it. I do, with a blush spreading across my cheeks. I hope my hands aren't already sweaty. He squeezes my hand gently, turning his full focus back to the road ahead.

When we get to his house, Sarah comes out to greet me, holding a bottle of rosé. "Snowy!" She smiles, taking a bag from me to help carry it up to her room.

"Hey Sarah, Thanks." I smile back at her.

"Are you excited?" She asks and I nod. "Rafe, I'm stealing her now."

"Okay, yeah. See you later." He says flatly, walking into the kitchen as we head upstairs.

"Did I do something?" I whisper to her as we walk upstairs, nervous he's mad that I'm ditching him or something.

Sarah shakes her head. "No, to be honest, he's mad at me because he thinks I'm cheating on Topper with John B." She laughs slightly, closing the door behind us as we enter her bedroom. John B has been disappearing a bit recently, it's not impossible that Rafe is right.

"Oh, gotcha.." I reply, looking around her room. "You've got such a cute room," I tell her, changing the subject.

"Oh, thanks Snowy." She smiles, working on opening the wine bottle before pouring out two glasses and handing me one. "So- let's see this dress you got, yeah?"

By the time we're ready and Sarah put in the painstaking hour it took to curl my long hair, it's almost time for us to leave. We planned it out well because we had lots of time to mess around and just talk, and of course, finish the whole bottle of wine between the two of us. I already thought I was bad at walking in heels when I was sober, so this was a challenge for sure, but Sarah assures me I'm doing fine. "I admit, you do look drunk, I won't lie, but that makes it better because no one will be able to tell that it's because you don't already know how to walk in heels!" She giggles, making me laugh as well as I steady myself on her dresser. "Besides, everyone sixteen to twenty-five will already be drunk, and I give it an hour for the adults." I nod and practice walking back and forth a couple of times before there's a knock on the door.

"Snowy? Sarah? We're leaving soon." Rafe says through the door, not opening it.

"We'll be down in like three minutes!" Sarah replies, standing up from where she was sitting on the bed and working on putting everything in her bag.

"Uh, can I come in?" He asks and we look at each other and I shrug, nodding so she knows it's okay.

"Yeah!" She shouts back, going into the bathroom to grab something. The door opens slightly before he pushes it open all the way. He's wearing this really cute baby blue suit, and his hair is slicked back a little differently than normal. Fancier, if that makes any sense. He looks amazing. I notice he's holding a gift bag just before I look back up at his eyes, seeing he's already looking at me.

"You look nice!" I smile and he looks down at what he's wearing, shrugging a little.

"Thanks, you do too." He grins, holding the bag out to me. "This is for you."

"Oh-" I reply, taking it from him. "What is it?" I say, peeking past the tissue paper a little.

"It's not much of a surprise if I tell you, is it?" He chuckles, leaning against the door frame. "Open it."

"That is true, yeah.." I giggle, taking out the tissue paper and pulling out a dust bag, putting my garbage on the dresser before I read what the bag says. "Chanel? What the f-" I start, reaching in and pulling out the most beautiful white purse I have ever seen in my life.

"Rafe, I-" I start, pulling more tissue paper off of it. "It's beautiful, are you kidding me?" I laugh a little, turning it over in my hands.

"Sarah told me you only had your tote bag for your stuff and figured something like this would match better. I also figured it would match your jewelry and stuff..." He smiles, and I look back over at my go-to tote bag. It is pretty beaten up, covered in coffee stains and the lettering which used to say "I Smell Snow" is almost illegible now. Kie had found it in this touristy shop downtown around Christmas time, and she and the boys just thought it was too funny to pass up as my gift that year. I love that bag. But Sarah and Rafe are right- it's not really the right vibe.

"You didn't have to do that.." I sigh. "But thank you. So much." I tell him, immediately wrapping my arms around his waist and hugging him as Sarah comes back out of the bathroom.

"Do you like it?" She asks, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

Rafe hugs me and rubs my back, resting his chin on my head. "It's beautiful," I say again before pulling away, looking back at my friend. "I'll pay you back as soon as I can, okay?" I say, turning back to Rafe.

"Snowy, that's not how gifts work. Like at all." He laughs, shaking his head at me.

"Okay, well, I'll do it anyway." I joke, taking the bag over to where my tote is and beginning to move my stuff over.

We all head downstairs once Sarah and I are sure we have everything, finally ready to go.

"Juliette, Thank you for agreeing to come," Rose says, coming over and giving me a quick hug. It's so nice to meet you properly."

"No, thank you for having me. And it is nice to meet you as well." I respond with a smile. My mom has taught me a handful of things in my life, the most important being good manners and people skills. Sure, she'll throw something at me every once in a while, but I'm thankful I'm a well-rounded person because of her. "You look amazing. And please, call me Snowy," I tell Rose and she thanks me, as Ward holds out his hand to shake mine.

"It's nice to meet you, Snowy. Kegs and Rafe have told us so much about you." I take his hand and shake it.

"Oh, all good things, I hope." I joke, knowing that people love that one in these situations. He laughs- I think I nailed it. "It's nice to meet you too," I add, looking briefly up at Rafe who is standing with me. He looks stoic, avoiding his father's gaze.

"Shall we go? I've got an award to receive!" Ward says, heading for the door. I turn as Sarah follows her dad talking to Wheezie as they leave.

"We'll, uh, we'll meet you there," Rafe says, resting his hand on my lower back and guiding me out after everyone.

"Okay, but straight there, okay? No detours." Ward says, pointing a finger at him as he stands at the driver's door of their black SUV.

"Yes sir." Rafe sighs as we keep walking, leading me towards his car. Tensions are high between him and his dad, apparently.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･

As we arrive just behind his family, and after taking what felt like an ungodly amount of pictures, we walk inside. I already feel what seems to be all eyes on us. Or me, more specifically. I wonder if Rafe is embarrassed- he probably should be. We make some rounds talking to people after getting some drinks, and Rafe hardly removes his hand from my lower back the whole time. I'm not sure if he knows how comforting that is for me as his family friends stare me down, asking me subtly rude questions about me and my life. After about twenty minutes, I spot Kie and give her a quick wave.

"Would you excuse me?" I ask, smiling at Rafe and the woman we're talking to.

"Of course." He answers before she could see anything, smiling at me.

"It was lovely meeting you-" I say to the woman and her husband before walking away in Kie's direction, putting all my energy into not falling and breaking my ankle.

"Snowy! You look stunning." Kie smiles and I hug her. "And that bag, wow, is it Sarah's?" She asks. Kie isn't at all into material things, but we always have our girly moments of appreciation for pretty stuff.

"So do you, Kie," I say, pulling away from the hug. "It's mine, apparently. Rafe gave it to me." I explain and her eyes widen.

"Well, ignoring the fact that Chanel tests on animals, it is gorgeous." She laughs and I nod, taking a sip out of my champagne glass which Rafe helped me spike with vodka since apparently, this club isn't in the business of serving liquor to minors.

"Thank god you're here- this would be a nightmare going through it alone." Kie sighs as we look around.

"Kie seriously I am so drunk right now I don't remember a single conversation I've had with any of these kooks," I whisper, making us both giggle. I wasn't that drunk anymore, but I figured it would brighten her spirits a bit.

"Hey- there's Pope! Let's go scare him." She whispers back, pointing outside where he's working on unloading a truck. I nod as we start to head for the patio door.

I wrap my arm around Kie's as we walk down the stairs and across the grass to steady myself.

"Pope!" I say, smiling at him as we grab his attention.

"Hey, ladies, you look great!" He smiles at us, his eyes landing on Kie. "Going full kook tonight, huh?" He laughs, putting down what he was holding.

"Yeah, I don't feel like myself." I chuckle, adjusting my dress.

Just then, someone in a server's uniform walks past behind us and Pope does a double take. "JJ? What are you doing here?" Kie and I turn, confused looks on our faces. "And what happened to your lip?" Pope says, pointing to his own lip where JJ has a cut on his.

"Hey, guys! I didn't recognize you." JJ says, stopping to talk to us. "You look like a bunch of kooks." He laughs, looking me up and down before reaching up to stick his hand in my hair and I smack it away. "And, uh, my dad, you know, he's got a mean right hook." He jokes, pretending to throw a punch, but none of us laugh.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, reiterating Pope's question as I look around to be sure no one is watching.

"I'll explain later." He says, waving as he heads for the door, stopping momentarily when the security guard stops him, but they end up letting him in.

"We should probably go monitor that, shouldn't we?" I say to Kie and she nods.

"See you later, Pope!" We both say, waving back at him as we walk up to the door.

We are let back inside, and I tell Kie I should probably split up to track down JJ, and I scan the crowd for Rafe's blue suit. There's no reason I can't hang out with him while keeping an eye out for JJ, right? I spot him and feel myself smiling as I see him talking to someone at the bar.

"Hey." I smile as I walk up, not wanting to startle him.

"Oh, hey Snowy." He smiles. A slow song starts playing as he introduces me to the man he was talking to, who grabs another drink and then dismisses himself politely leaving Rafe and me alone for the first time this evening.

"Aw, I love this song..." I frown, putting my drink on the bar and pressing my hands to my chest. I instantly recognize it as Taylor Swift's 'New Year's Day', over the sounds of everyone talking. I look around at everyone around us and the string lights around the edge of the ceiling.

"Want to dance?" Rafe asks, drawing my attention back to him.

I nod and smile, taking his hand as he holds it out to me and we take a few steps from the bar so we're not in anyone's way. He wraps one arm around my waist, holding my hand up with the other. It's hard to take my eyes off his smile as he gently pulls me closer and we slowly sway back and forth.

"I may or may not have requested some Taylor Swift, for you." He laughs slightly and I smile.

"That's sweet, thank you," I say and he takes his eyes off me to look around. People are staring, I just know it. I nervously play with his hair with the hand resting behind his neck.

He looks back at me and smiles a little, in an effort to reassure me that it's okay.

"Thanks for inviting me," I say again.

"Thank you for coming." He replies, not breaking our eye contact. "You look beautiful, by the way..." He adds and I blush. I'm hoping it's not as noticeable when I'm wearing makeup.

"Thanks." I smile. "I don't feel much like myself, to be honest.." I joke, looking down.

"Well," He replies quietly, leaning down a little to reach my eyes again. "I think you look beautiful all the time, Juliette."

"Oh my god.." I laugh softly. "Don't say that- I'll actually cry."

"Okay, sorry." Rafe laughs a little with me, rubbing my back gently. "I'm not taking it back though."

"I didn't take you for the cheesy type," I say and he nods.

"Right- I forgot. We're mean and scary." He laughs.

"Yep, that's us. Meanest and scariest in the room." I joke, looking around. "Everyone is so intimidated right now."

Rafe laughs at that and before he says anything else, we're interrupted by a commotion coming from the direction of the bathroom.

"And tell Snowy she looks pretty hot for a pogue!" We hear someone shout, and before I can even look up at Rafe in my confusion, he's letting me go and brushing past me, walking over to where that voice came from with anger in his eyes.

I follow behind him as quickly as I can in these shoes and am met with JJ swinging at the boy I assume who said it, a security guard having to grab him and hold him back.

"Watch your mouth, man," Rafe says, taking this opportunity to get in the boy's face, grabbing the front of his shirt and pushing him back into the wall. I think I recognize him as one of Keg's friends. I look over at JJ as he's thrown out the door,

"Hey, you can't kick him out!" I hear Kie's voice and I look over to see her standing across the crowd from me. "I am a member of this club and I invited him here!"

She is ignored, and JJ lands on the grass at the bottom of the stairs, looking up toward Kie and I as someone shouts at us, "Get out of here! Dirty Pogues-"

"Power hour at Rixon's, attendance is mandatory!" JJ shouts, ignoring them and pointing to Kie and then to me, grabbing Pope as he starts to walk away, despite Heyward's objections.

I watch Kie run down the stairs and after them, holding up her dress so she doesn't trip, and JJ picks her up and spins her in a circle as they all laugh. I look back at Rafe as he's being pulled off of that boy by his dad, who looks pissed. Do I want to be here to witness the aftermath of what Ward will definitely view as Rafe and I 'ruining' his celebration? Not at all. Do I want to go with my friends to this 'mandatory' meeting? Kind of. Should I stay anyways? Definitely.

I sigh as I pull my phone out of my bag, texting the group chat that I will meet up with them as soon as I can leave.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･

taglist: @boo22sstuff @madelynie (lmk if you want to be added!)

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