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girlgenius1111 · 5 months

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can she make you feel like i do?

Jealous Leila O as promised!!!! smut. this is just smut.

italics are spanish

18+. rougher sex. use of a safe word. aftercare though :) lmk if you like it!

You knew your girlfriend to be a mildly possessive person, but she'd never been weird about your friends. Something about Katie must have really pissed her off for her to act the way she did.

You and Leila saw each other a fair amount, with her playing for city and you playing for arsenal. It was your first season at the club, and she knew how nervous you'd been. Moving from Liga F to England was a big change, and she'd played a huge role in helping you adjust.

So had Katie, to be fair. Arsenal was truly like a family, and Katie had taken you under her wing, made sure you fit in and felt safe and comfortable.

The night before you were set to play man city, you'd gone out with some of the girls and Leila. You were smushed in between her and Katie, and you found yourself paying more attention to Katie than you were to Leila. It wasn't intentional; Leila was less comfortable with english than you were, especially around people she'd just met, so she was quieter than normal.

You hadn't realized it had bothered her until you felt her hand grab yours under the table, holding tightly. You broke off your conversation with the Irish woman, and turned to your girlfriend.

"Are you okay, baby?" you asked quietly, sensing the anxiety radiating off of the older woman.

"They speak really fast." She said quietly. You looked at her closer, and saw that she wasn't just slightly anxious, but a little angry. You knew there was more she wasn't telling you, but you didn't want to push in front of your friends. Instead, you smiled at her sympathetically, squeezing her hand.

"We can go soon, okay?" You promised, and she nodded, not letting go of your hand. For the rest of the meal, you made more of a effort to bring her into the conversations, and she seemed to get a little more comfortable. You didn't fully understand what she was so upset about until you arrived back to your apartment, where she was staying while she was in town.

"What's up with you and Mccabe," she asked quietly, once you'd climbed into bed and turned the lights off. You shifted in her arms to face her, realizing what the problem was. It was dark, so you couldn't really make out her expression, but you could tell her jaw was clenched, and she wasn't looking at you.

"Is that what you were so upset about?" You questioned. She nodded her head jerkily. You weren't used to this; Leila was a very secure person, and you'd never really seen her this upset before over something so trivial. You placed a hand on her cheek, tilting her head to look at you. "Katie is just a friend, my love. She's been really helpful since I got here, really looked out for me. And she's with Caitlin. Besides, why would I want her when I have you?" You said, rubbing your thumb lightly across her cheek.

She looked relieved, and like she was blushing from your last comment, as she buried her head in your hair.

"Okay. I'm sorry, I trust you, I just got nervous." She pressed a light kiss to your neck, and you settled back against her, thinking the issue was resolved.

-----

The thing was, there were two Leila's. Sweet and kind Leila, who brought you flowers and liked nothing more than to have you lay directly on top of her while watching TV. There was also football Leila, aggressive Leila, who showed her opponents no mercy. Both of these sides of her melded beautifully together to create someone who sometimes would slowly, achingly take you to pieces, and other times, would fuck you until you could barely breathe.

It had been a bit since you and Leila had seen each other, and although you didn't have sex the night before the game, it was unspoken that you would be going directly back to your apartment once the game was over. You pushed these thoughts out of your head, though, focusing on the task at hand.

For the next 90 minutes, Leila was not your girlfriend, but your opponent, and you needed to play accordingly. You both managed it well, getting through the first half with no incidents. You were halfway through the second half when things started to escalate.

Alanna Kennedy had tackled you late, leaving you sprawled on the grass. You were fine, the air had just been knocked out of you, so you took a second to regain your breath. Katie appeared at your side, ever protective.

"You alright there mate?" She asked shooting a glare at Alanna as she the Australian patted you on the shoulder, walking by.

"Good. Just need a sec." You said, rather breathlessly. Katie nodded, remaining at your side until you were ready to stand up. You took her outstretched hand and got to your feet. You only saw Leila once you'd stood up. You'd completely missed how she'd begun to come over to you and help you up, before Katie beat her there. You'd missed how she watched with a furrowed brow as you talked quietly with Katie, as she helped you up.

You caught her eye, where she was standing with her arms crossed halfway across the pitch. You mistook her jealously for worry, and sent her a thumbs up. Her face didn't change as the game resumed.

You didn't realize Leila was upset, again, until a few minutes later. She'd gone completely for Katie's legs, her own feet nowhere even near the ball. Katie clutched her ankle, swearing loudly, as you ran over.

"Leila!" You scolded, almost forgetting where you were for a second. You bent down, resting a hand on Katie's back, and Leila scoffed at you. You looked back up at her, shocked that she was behaving this way during a game. She turned to walk away, ignoring the yellow card from the ref. You helped Katie to her feet, and she grumbled after the retreating form of your girlfriend.

"Some girl you got there, y/n." Katie remarked.

"She gets jealous." You said shortly, wanting to put your focus back on the game. You managed to do so, none of the three of you getting into anymore tousles.

The game ended in a draw, and as you waited outside the visitors locker room for Leila, you couldn't help but be a little annoyed with her. But if you were a little annoyed, Leila was fuming. She didn't know what it was about Katie McCabe around you that made her so upset, but she couldn't help it. And then, instead of understanding why she was upset, you yelled at her on the pitch, and helped Katie up. Look, Leila knew she was being ridiculous. She didn't really care.

This was evident when she stomped out of the locker room, grabbing your hand in hers and tugging you wordlessly to the car. You followed after her, a little shocked at the turn of events, but you weren't going to say no.

The car ride home was tense, with Leila not speaking a word to you. It was evident that she was upset, and honestly, so were you. You weren't sure what kind of mad Leila was gonna come out, though. Angry Leila who wouldn't speak to you, except to say goodnight, or angry Leila who had plans to rail you into next week the moment you stepped into your apartment.

You got your answer, though, when you shut the door to you apartment, and Leila was suddenly behind you, breathing down your neck, arms wrapped possessively around your waist.

"Strip and get on the bed." She breathed into your ear. You wanted to stay mad at her, but it had been so long since she'd had her way with you, that you simply nodded, and followed her instructions.

You lay on the bed, naked, waiting for your girlfriend to come into the room. She took her time, and by the time you heard her footsteps padding into the room, you were wet at the thought of all the things your girlfriend was about to do to you. She walked in slowly, taking in the sight of you. She didn't say anything, just walked to stand right by your body, trailing a finger across the bruise blooming on your thigh, from the hit you took during the game.

For a second, you saw concern wash over Leila's face, and it remained when she looked up at you.

"You tell me if you need to stop?" She questioned, voice softer than before.

"Yes," you replied, trying to keep your own voice even as Leila's intense gaze met your own. As soon as the words left your mouth, Leila was on top of you, pressing her lips to yours in a searing kiss, tongue immediately bypassing your lips and jutting into your mouth. You gasped in surprise, but she didn't let up, pressing you down against the mattress, hard. You tried to bring a hand up, and tug her tight ponytail out, but she caught your hand, and shoved it back against the mattress.

"No touching," she hissed, pulling back to speak for only a second, before diving back against you. You tried to keep up, but the feeling of her holding your hands down to the mattress, the way her hips pressed hard against yours, had you gasping for air in between kisses, unable to get enough in through your nose. She kissed you senselessly for a few more minutes, her tongue darting in and out of your mouth.

Leila pulled back, then, and stood next to the bed, quickly taking her own clothes off. She looked up at you as she did, watching your face staring at her with a hunger in your eyes. The defender climbed back on the bed, pushing you down with a hand against your chest, as she lifted herself to hover over your face.

"Make me come," she told you, and you whimpered in response, hooking your arms around her thighs to pull her down. Your tongue flicked out to meet her core, and you go right to work, delighted to find her as wet as you were sure you were. Despite the cold act she was putting on, she wanted you just as much as you wanted her.

You dragged your tongue through her center, circling her clit with it before dipping at back down, pushing into her entrance. She let out little sounds above you, pressing down harder on your face. You repeated the pattern a few times, before focusing on the swollen nub. You took it into your mouth, sucking lightly, before flicking your tongue over it, and Leila moaned loudly, her body jerking at the stimulation.

"Fingers," she instructed, and you didn't waste any time, unlacing your arm from her thigh, and bring it up to tease her dripping cunt with your finger. You knew better than to tease for too long though, and pushed in, pressing along her front wall as you did. You felt her body shift on top of you, but your eyes were closed, so you didn't know what she was doing until you felt her fingers rubbing harsh circles around your clit. You gasped against her, but kept your motions going.

Soon, one finger became two, and you were pumping in and out fast, working her up with your tongue on her as well. Her motions on you were distracting; she'd barely touched you until now, and the sudden stimulation was almost overwhelming. She pressed hard on you, and you tried to hold your legs still as they tensed and twitched.

Thinking that if you got her to come, she'd let you, you added a third finger, curling them just right against her, rapidly flicking your tongue over her clit. It didn't take much longer until she was coming on your face, leaving quite a mess behind. As she did, though, her fingers withdrew from you, leaving you pressing your thighs together.

She grinded down against your fast as the aftershocks rolled through her, before rolling off of you, and climbing down your body. Before you knew what was happening, and at an impressively fast pace for someone who had just come, she was shoving her face against you, her tongue working in and out of your whole.

"You're dripping. Who is it for, hm? Me? Or her?" she asked against you, the vibrations of her voice sending a wave a pleasure through you. She sounded angry, furious even. You didn't respond, to overcome with the sensation of finally, finally, having her mouth on you. You startled back into the present, though, when she lightly slapped your thigh, prompting a response.

"You, baby, only you"

"Hmm", she replied, bring a hand up to pinch hard at one of your nipples. Your upper body jerked, the pain of it barely being overtaken by the pleasure. She kept moving her mouth against you, tongue lapping at the abundant wetness. Leila's motions were so fast, so perfect, and you had missed her so much. You were nearing the edge, almost humiliatingly fast.

"Close," you managed to gasp out, hands gripping tightly at the comforter. As soon as you spoke, she was pulling away, pressing her hands onto your thighs, leaving you completely without friction.

"No, baby. Leila, please," you whined, eyes opening to look up at her. She was looking down at you with a teasing smile on her face.

"You don't get to come. Not until I say so," Leila told you, pressing her fingers hard into your legs. Leila didn't often edge you, preferring to make you come until you couldn't move, but when she had, it had taken... a long time until she gave in. And this time, you felt even more desperate for her, for the release you knew she could give you. She waited for your breathing to slow, looking down at you almost condescendingly.

This time, she moved back against you achingly slowly, running her fingers along your thighs, skipping over where you needed her. You did your best to hold you body still, once again shutting your eyes. She pressed 2 fingers against you, pushing in. You moaned at the stretch, not used to having her inside of you.

"Open your eyes," she told you, and you blinked them open, your eyes meeting her dark ones. She didn't say anything else, just staring at you as she slowly pumped her fingers in and out.

"Leila," you murmured, not really sure why you were speaking, but so overcome with need for her in that moment, you had to say something.

"I know, you missed me huh? This pussy is dripping for me." she replied, voice slightly mocking. You nodded pathetically, squirming against the bed, hoping your agreement would make her change her mind about your punishment. No such luck, though, as a few minutes later, when your moans increased in volume, and her fingers were sliding in and out rapidly, she pulled out again. You cried out this time, unable to form words as your legs shook beneath her.

You'd normally be able to last longer than this without getting to the point of begging, but you'd missed her touch so much.

"Please, baby I'll do anything, please just let me come," you asked shakily. Leila smirked down at you, keeping her hands pressed against your thighs once again.

"You need me that bad, love?" she questioned, and you nodded frantically. "Tell me again. Tell me how much you need me, and only me."

"Fuck baby, I need you, only you, please, you're the only one who can make me feel this good," you cried, blinking up at her pleadingly. She hummed, looking down at you appraisingly. She let go of your thighs, and you didn't dare move them, as she reached up and tightened her ponytail. You watched her arms flex as she did so, and had to stop yourself from letting your jaw drop open.

Her body on full display in front of you, muscles rippling as she worked you to the brink, was almost as stimulating as her touch.

"You beg so nicely for me. One more, then you can come. And once you start, you aren't stopping." she promised and you sighed in relief, not really processing the second part of her sentence. Your face quickly became one of confusion though, as she stepped away from the bed, instead of lowering herself back to your core.

Leila walked to the bedside table, yanking the drawer open and pulling out the harness and dildo. She put it on quickly, walking back over to you. She pulled you by your legs until they were hanging off the side of the bed, and she could easily slide into you from her where she was standing. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching her expectantly. She reached a hand up to your face, cupping it under your chin.

"Spit," she told you, and you did. You knew she was doing it more for the display of power, to remind you that you'd really do anything she asked, than because she needed the lubrication. Regardless, she stroked the fake cock a few times, coating it in your spit, before pressing the blunt head up against you.

Leila didn't waste anytime, pressing in and bottoming out almost instantly.

"Jesus," you choked out. She fucked you hard, and you did your best to keep watching to take in the image of her. She was holding your legs for leverage, veiny hands on full display. Her abs rippled with every thrust, and her pupils were blown as she looked down at her cock disappearing into you.

"That's right, baby, taking it so well," you knew she wasn't mad at you anymore then, the words for praise increasing the feeling of heat in your lower abdomen. She pushed you right to the edge this time, until you were seriously worried you would finish before she could pull out. She did, though, and you let out a sob, overcome with desperation. You felt a tear run down your cheek, and you lay back, throwing your arms over your face.

"So good for me. Waiting like a good girl," Leila told you, gently rubbing her thumbs in soothing circles over the skin of your legs. "Flip over for me," she instructed, and you rushed to comply, resting on your stomach. Her hands pulled your waist, until you ass was up into the air. She smacked your ass once, grabbing it aggressively , and you whined.

"Alright, I'll fuck you. Come whenever you need to," she said, and you sighed in relief, the side of your face pressed against the mattress. Leila climbed onto the bed, slotting herself in behind you, pushing in slowly this time. Her thrusts remained slow, and you whimpered with need as she failed to speed up right away.

When she did speed up, it was immediate, and her pace was unrelenting. Her hands pulled your hips back to meet her every thrust, and the room was filled with your gasps for air, and the sound of her hips meeting yours. She pushed a hand on your back, making you arch more, and suddenly she was hitting your spot with every thrust. You came almost immediately, crying her name out loudly. She didn't slow, and your first orgasm bled into the second one, until you weren't sure where the first one ended and the second one began.

You had the comforter in a white-knuckled grip, as Leila continued. her breaths were coming faster and faster, and you knew the feeling of the strap pressing against her was getting her closer and closer.

"S-so good, baby, fuck," you stuttered, voice half muffled from where your face pressed into the bed. At your words, Leila shifted, bringing a foot to rest on the bed, and moving one of her hands around your front, to rub at your clit. You saw stars. Her pace somehow increased and she was fucking you even harder, your hips trying to press back into her.

"Come again for me," she told you, and you did, feeling tears spill out of your eyes. As the pleasure from your third orgasm faded, you felt the overwhelming feeling of overstimulation as she rubbed hard circled against your swollen clit, fucking into you as fast as ever. She pressed you right over the edge into your fourth orgasm.

"Leila, my god," you cried out, this one seeming to last longer. Your legs were shaking, and you could barely keep your ass in the air. Leila wasn't showing any signs of stopping though, and you knew she wouldn't unless you said something. The sensations were too much, and you knew if she made you come again, you'd pass out.

"Red, Leila, fuck," you whimpered, reaching a hand back to try to reinforce your message. Leila stilled her movements immediately, bring her hand away from your core to rub your back gently.

"Alright, baby, okay. Can I pull out?" She asked, and you whined, nodding into the bed. You felt her pull out, and you winced at the sensation. She gently rolled you onto your back, before her touch was gone. You knew she was just taking the harness off, but you couldn't help how needy you were, reaching a hand out, needing her touch you again, much differently than you needed it before. Your whole body was trembling, and the tears in your eyes were still leaking out. You felt so good, so so good, that it hurt, in the best way possible.

"Lei," you said, forcing your eyes open to look for your girlfriend. She was climbing back onto the bed with a bottle of water extended to you, and you shook your head, reaching out for her free hand instead.

"I'm here, I've got you," she said, putting the water down and pulling you into her arms. You leaned into her, resting your head in the crook of her neck, breathing deeply.

"Okay?" She asked quietly, her hands rubbing softly at your back. You nodded against her, trying to find words.

"So good, Lei." you replied, sounding so fucked out that Leila chuckled lightly. She pulled back after a moment, and you groaned your complaint.

"Drink some water for me, please," she instructed, and you complied sipping slowly at the drink that she held up to your lips. Your whole body was still unsteady and Leila was practically holding you up.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, concerned at your state.

"Promise, just need a bit," you told her, and she nodded, putting the bottle back down. You nestled back into her arms, pressing light kisses to her bare chest.

"Missed you, so much," you murmured.

"I could tell." she remarked, and you groaned.

"You're too good at that," you said, and she chuckled again.

"Won't apologize for it." she joked.

"I'd never ask you too," you responded, before your tone grew more serious. "Perfect for me. Always," you mumbled, aware that it didn't really match up with your previous phrase, but wanting to make sure she knew there was nothing to worry about.

"I know. Sorry I acted like that," she said. Only post sex Leila could apologize that easily. Every other version of her was far too stubborn to give in so fast.

"I love you, more than football. More than anything." You said, and the unspoken words were there; more than Katie McCabe, you idiot.

"I love you even more than the way you scream my name," she replied cheekily, and you smacked her arm halfheartedly.

"Leila Ouahabi!" You scolded, blushing. You both laughed, and you pulled yourself from her embrace, looking up at her tiredly.

"Help me shower?" You asked, knowing that if you tried to stand on your own, your legs would probably give out.

"Of course," she replied. She'd do anything for you.

-----

straight up could not figure out how to end that so sorry if it seems abrupt :) hope you enjoyed!!!!

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #leila ouahabi x reader #leila ouahabi

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azzo0 · 13 days

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Someone She Used to Know

Summary: Katsuki meets his ex girlfriend after six years.

Warnings: Katsuki's drunk, throwing up, angsty.

Song: Ghost Town- by Benson Boone

wc: 1k

It's been six years since she broke up with Katsuki. He doesn't hate her for it. She did herself justice by breaking up with him. He wasn't there for her. Every day was a day of broken promises where he vowed to come home early, spend time with her, take her on a date, and cuddle on the couch, but he rarely fulfilled his broken promises, getting caught up in hero work instead. He doesn't hate her. He never can. It was his fault he was more focused on work instead.

She was the first and last person he fell in love with.

Six years later, he's sitting in a pub. He gets dragged out by Eijiro and Denki here every weekend, but some days, he prefers coming here alone. The clicking of heels catches his attention, and he glances up from the glass he's been staring at for the past couple of minutes, watching droplets of water race down the glass. It's a woman dressed in a beautiful black minidress with sequins like stars. His eyes move up to the woman's face, and he almost spills his drink.

It's her, his ex.

His hands grow sweaty, and he sets the drink on the table in case he drops the glass. He's still as a cat, his breath caught in his throat, heart hammering in his chest. He can feel his shirt clinging to his chest. He hasn't heard a word from her in six years. No texts, no calls, no meeting each other accidentally, so seeing her in the flesh made him dizzy. He couldn't tell if it was the drink or if it was just her. He remembers feeling the same way when he first met her in a cafe. She used to work there at the time, and he'd buy coffee every day from that very cafe despite not being a fan of coffee. Here he was, several years later, feeling the same way. He'd convinced himself that he was over it. Maybe he was not. Maybe that's why he drank like a sad old man by himself every week. Maybe his heart still yearned for her.

She's beautiful, he reminds himself. She's always been beautiful, but did he ever make her feel beautiful? Did he make her feel loved? Could he still make her feel loved? His schedule wasn't the same as it used to be before, given that crime rates had dropped significantly over the past few years, but there wasn't any point now, was there? It was too late.

He wonders if he should go up to her, watching her check the time on her phone. She shook her head when the waiter asked her if she'd like something, giving him a smile. She tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, tapping a finger on the table. He catches the glint of a beautiful emerald ring on her ring finger, and he understands. She's waiting for her fiancé.

He picks up the glass and downs his drink in one big sip. It makes his throat burn. He doesn't care. He gets his glass refilled again. Her fiancé arrives a few minutes later. A tall and handsome man with kind eyes and a warm smile. He watches her eyes light up at the sight of him. Once upon a time, he was the one making her eyes light up like that. She gets up and plants a quick peck on his lips. The man sits across from her, taking her hand, thumb brushing over the ring.

Katsuki thinks of how that could've been him if he wasn't so obsessed with his work back then. If he didn't come home late, after she was deep asleep, cuddling a pillow because he wasn't there and leaving in the early hours of the morning so his side of the bed was cold by the time she woke up. He thinks of how he could have been the one she dressed up so pretty for. How he could've been the one asking her to marry him.

I don't deserve her, Katsuki reminds himself. She deserves someone who puts her first, someone who's far kinder and loving than he is. Someone who isn't him.

He's lost count of how many drinks he's had at this point. He doesn't remember when he got up. He doesn't know when he got into the parking lot. He's throwing up into a trash can. He feels a hand on his shoulder while he's still vomiting. He glances back to see her watching him with concerned eyes. Her fiancé stands behind her, equally concerned.

"Are you alright?" she asks. Her voice reminds him of a flower garden. Soothing and calm.

"Yeah," he manages to croak. Her eyes dart around, looking for his car. He's in no state to drive himself.

"Would you like me to call Mina or Eijiro?" she asks.

"No," he slurs. He's drunk, but he's sure her fiancé raises his eyebrows questioningly.

"Do you know him, love?" he asks, surprised she knows the number two hero.

"Oh, I used to know him," she replies casually, scrolling through the contacts on her phone.

I used to know him.

He tries not to stumble as he watches her talk to one of his friends on the phone. He wants to tell her he's glad she's found the one for her. He's glad she's happy. The words never leave his throat.

When she was done talking on the phone, she glanced at him with a worried smile, "Would you like us to stay with you in the meantime?"

He wishes she weren't so kind to him. He wishes she'd give him an ugly stare and tell him he looked pathetic, but she's always been like this. Too kind for her own good. He shakes his head in response. She hums and locks her arm with her fiancé, telling him it was nice meeting him with a goodbye. No see you around. Just goodbye.

He sits in his car, the back of his hand over his eyes as he waits for one of his friends to pick him up, her words echoing in his head. Oh, I used to know him. She did not say something like 'ex' or a 'friend'. He was just a stranger to her. A someone she used to know.

Nothing more.

#katsuki bakugo #bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo angst #bakugou angst #mha x reader

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justpoliteconversations · 2 months

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Apple Merchant [BOTW!Link x Isekai!Reader] (Part 4)

Link learns some things. And so do you.

Yet another for the ever growing pile of self-indulgent garbage refuse. Enjoy the process of decomposition with me for a while.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Alternate Extras: Embrace

Masterlist

TW: Choosing not to display warnings. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise.

---

The yiga. A faction of Ganon worshipping traitors formerly of the Sheikah clan, whose main objective is to kill the Hero known as Link (in other words, himself). Known for their distinctive red body suits and white masks. And, strangely enough, their love of bananas.

They were also currently at the very top of Link's (until recently non-existent) shit list, because AM had deemed their threat level too great to allow them to meet each other freely. As Blue had told him, AM's profession placed them at greater danger than the average citizen to the assassins' blades. What that profession was, Link was not told (despite his pleading and intense stares and even one memorable attempt to bargain for the information), but it was deemed necessary to maintain distance because of this.

There were plenty of other useful things in the book too. Not a letter or a note or even a small bundle of documents. A book. An honest to Goddess book. Because there was nothing else the ridiculously thick, neatly piled collection of leather bound miscellaneous papers, maps, diagrams, notes and documents could be. It was the thickness of Link's hand for goodness sakes.

Thankfully, Blue had taken mercy on him (and his desire to get moving as soon as possible) and bookmarked the pages and maps that would be most useful to him. All while giving him that bland, graceful smile of hers and explaining that AM was a very proactive information gatherer, but that they didn't always consider that not everyone wanted to know the exact region Sneaky snails bred in or where the highest priced wheat could be found.

Link very deliberately didn't tell her that he did, in fact, find those very interesting topics to learn about (and that he would be reading through the entire book when he got the chance. later). Because he was still stung that she'd given him a condescending little smile (smirk, it was a damned smirk and Link knew it) when he'd tried to bargain with her for more information on AM.

In total, he'd spent three days in Hateno, gathering information (as though the book wasn't enough), gathering supplies (because as many as were in the slate, it didn't have everything a warrior would need to maintain his gear. Blue's words, not his) and getting to know the people around the area.

Also, armor. Costume fitted (Link didn't think too hard about how Blue had gotten his measurements) as to AM's specifications before they'd left town. The order arrived a little later due to his (apparently) small size causing complications with some of the straps.

Honestly, it felt good. It felt familiar with a hazy kind of comfort that spoke of his body's remembrance of such armor resting upon it often. And suddenly, in that moment, the thought that he had once been a knight didn't feel so far off, despite having no memory of it and very little desire to become as such again.

Ready to go (finally) he put on his boots, tightened the straps of his new (fitted. maybe he'd see about getting his Sheikah armor fitted as well if he was in the area) hyrulian armor set, and took one last shot before departing.

"Where can I get more bananas?" Link tried, going for casual but coming off far too intense for it to be anything but prying. "For the Yiga problem."

Blue just smiled (small and condescending, and so frustrating) before replying evenly. "AM has that well in hand I'd imagine." The knowing glint in Blue's eyes put a pout on Link's face. "It's best you focus on your mission, Courageous One." Then she smiled genuinely. Just a bit, but enough to ease Link's heart as she continued. "Fear naught for your beloved AM. No harm shall befall them while my sister haunts their shadow."

Link believed her. And with that little bit of reassurance, the Hero of Hyrule set out into the world once more. With courage in his heart and his goal ever at the forefront of his mind.

Defeat the Calamity guy. Meet AM. Travel this vast, wondrous world with them for the rest of their days. Or, maybe one day settle down more permanently in Hateno and open a food stand.

Anywhere life took them. Whatever you wanted. This was the beginning of his new life after all, and he was so eager to spend it with you.

---

You stared up at the quickly growing pile of bright yellow fruit with something like regret stabbing at your heart. Just thinking about how much rupees you were about to drop on this one purchase alone was enough to put a hitch in your throat. It was enough to have you contemplating a long walk off that equally long (absurdly long) wooden bridge just next to the stable.

When you'd stopped at Lakeside Stable for the night and told Adino you'd pay him market price for any bananas he brought back to you before you left. You hadn't expected him to take that as a challenge. You hadn't expected Skims to get involved in it as well. And you most certainly had not expected Red to show up out of nowhere with a pile rivaling (and maybe even surpassing) Adino's.

And thus, within the span of a few short hours, you were suddenly several thousand rupees poorer (not that that pantry amount even scratched the surface of your accumulated wealth, but you digress) and many, many bananas richer.

At least they tasted good.

"Not that I'm against your presence. But why are you here, Red?" You asked the red clad woman after (with a heavy heart) passing out everyone's pay for the bananas they'd brought you. (Skims and Red didn't even have the grace to look ashamed for muscling in on the quick profit either, the jerks.)

She didn't even pause from where she'd been fingering through her newly acquired (ill gotten) gains when she hummed playfully. "Oh. Gran thought it'd be wise to send along a little extra protection to ensure The Hero's benefactor remained unmolested during these most crucial of times."

The look on your face must have been confused enough to spur Red to explain. "Gran told us to keep you in the dark about our motivations, but I like you. So I'll tell you the truth, since you seem like the reasonable sort." She finally put the rupees down and turned to face you, eyes hardening into a serious shade of near black as she explained.

"The Hero is without his memory, and until recently, was without motivation to see his mission through with the urgency it requires. Had he been as he was before, just the mention of the Princess would have been enough to send the guy running, if you believe the rambling of nostalgic old gossip crows." Her lips twisted into something too complicated to decipher before it was neutral again.

"But he's not the man he used to be. He's not the princess's knight anymore for all his destiny would push him to be. And so, he needed a new motivation to get him moving." She gave you a smile, but it wasn't a nice one (it was one full of spite and pity, though only the pitying part was directed at you). "That's you. The guy loves you already. Call it situational stockholm or just that damned knightly instincts of his, but you are the apple of his eye." She tried to soften her smile into something humorous, but it fell short.

"Bottom line. You're the replacement motivation. Just until he gets enough of his memories back to get invested in the Princess' wellbeing." She flicked a rupee off the stump she'd gathered them on, expression very closed off as she continued.

"Whenever Mr. hero gets a little too comfortable playing house, we're supposed to dangle you in his face and get him interested again. That you seem invested in his success was just a bonus. Be it the Will of Hylia or just simple coincidence, doesn't matter. You're useful, and if it gets the Princess out of that Hell, we're willing to use that."

Another smile, sharp but honest. "It's our duty after all, to serve the royal family. I'm sure you understand." Despite the way the information settled sourly in your stomach you nodded, keeping your expression as even as possible.

She noticed though, and suddenly her hand was on yours (you hadn't noticed it tightening into a fist). "Don't fret, Apples." She smiled again, softer this time. Eyes lighted with a compassion that held such raw honesty despite her earlier words. "My sister and I are not going to let the elders use you like that. You might have asked yourself why Bluey isn't here instead, since, you know-" She smirked, side-eyeing Adino who'd gone some distance off to try to find more bananas (to take more of your rupees, the little bastard).

"We will fulfill our duties. For the protection of Hyrule and everything we love. But not at your's or your dear Hero's expense. At least, not like that. You see, Bluey has something I do not, and that is a gentle touch. She'll take care of the Hero in the way he needs, not the way that'll get the fastest results." Her smirk widened. "And she's got more of a rebellious streak than me too. Trust in her. She'll protect your dear Hero. Even if she has to spit in the elders' eyes to do it. She never could put her heart aside for the sake of duty."

You were silent for a time, digesting her words with the weight and attention they deserved, before looking back to her. A smile on your lips, and your hand out before her in the gesture of a shake.

"I look forward to doing business with you then, Red." You began, letting the edge of your resolve sharpen your eyes and embolden your words. "Let's do our best to protect Link and save Zelda. We'll give it everything we've got."

Red grinned, full and bright and smug (so unbearably smug, like she had won the lottery. which they didn't have here, and you were not interested in introducing any time soon either). "I knew you were gonna understand. The Goddess wouldn't choose just anyone to guard her chosen's heart."

You blinked. "What?"

Red picked up another rupee, flicking it at you. "What~?"

---

Now, off to work! And then the shadows to rest.

#botw link #botw x reader #link x you #link x reader #isekai reader

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tacticaldiary · 9 months

Note

I just recently found your blog and am in love with everything about it You are a very talented writer and I look forward to your post so I was wondering what you think it would be like sharing a bed with ghost

I Swear I Asked For Two

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Fluff; The Classic 'One-Bed' Trope

She freezes when he turns with her, a strong arm banding around her middle, holding her in place. "You gonna make me hold you in place?"

Bless whoever's up there for the dark because her face is burning.

"Would love that, actually." She mutters to herself before she can reign the impulsiveness in.

Masterlist

"Don't hurt me." Raises her hands in surrender, taking an exaggerated step away from him as the door to their room clicks shut behind them. "I swear I asked for two."

Ghost, bloody and dirty and exhausted, runs a hand down his balaclava-covered face, dropping his bag somewhere near the wall behind him. "Better than the floor." Is all he manages.

Once she's sure she's not in any mortal danger, she shoves back her bag next to him and kneels down, rifling through it. "Wash up first, L.T. I'll go after." There's no response but he must agree because he goes off wordlessly, a testament to how he must be just as exhausted as she was.

12 days. 12 days they had been trekking through this rural town trying to track down a target. The man had infiltrated their chain of command and had been feeding crucial information to the enemy for over a month, information that had led to quite a few of their operations being compromised. Needless to say, once he was found out he had ran in the middle of the night.

A slippery bastard.

Long stretches of land, a lot of camping out and surveying the area. Days and days of hunting this man until he was finally caught. Secured with the unit that had been traveling with them, they'd relinquished their target and been ordered to wait for exfil the next day.

Until then...well, this shady motel would have to do for the night.

They're lucky they were near a town and not in one of the long stretches between them, that much she's grateful for. Even if she didn't completely trust the room's ceiling to cave in while they were sleeping.

Stains on the walls she doesn't want to think about, cracks in the ceiling, and of course, the one queen sized bed pushed back to the far wall.

The bed.

Truthfully she doesn't know how she managed to keep her voice steady before. Her stomach was rolling at the thought of having to share a bed with him. With Ghost. With Simon.

He was...well, she thought he was extraordinary. Capable, brave, and funny in his own way. It hadn't taken long for her to develop some sort of a crush on him.

And now she was supposed to bunk down for a night with him? On that bed? Alone?

She shakes her head, focusing on rifling through her pack to find a spare set of clothes. They'd slept in worse conditions before, this was no big deal.

No big deal at all.

She curses as she finds her other pair of clothes filthy, mud staining the fabric. She'd forgotten about how she had to use them already after an unsavoury encounter with one of the locals.

"Something wrong?" She jumps at the deep voice, head snapping up to see him.

His hands are stripped of his gloves, his tactical vest off and away. A soft t-shirt takes its place, along with sweatpants that she has to make a conscious effort to tear her gaze away from.

This simply wasn't fair. It's like he's making this whole situation ten times harder for her on purpose.

"Negative." She says instead, standing up. "I'll have to make do with these clothes, forgot my spares were filthy." He studies her in that silent way for a beat, before he leans down and rummages through his pack.

Leaving him to do whatever, she pushes open the bathroom door while wondering how quickly her clothes would dry if she ran them under the tap-

"Here."

Ghost holds out a spare shirt to her. Plain black.

His.

"What?" It takes a second for her mind to catch up.

He cocks an eyebrow. "You're filthy. I'd rather not sleep next to someone who smells like shit."

The insult draws an indignant bark of a laugh from her, "I don't stink." She exclaims, snatching the shirt from his grip. "Not as bad as you do."

"Tell yourself that." He deadpans, but she swears she can see a hint of an amused smirk beneath his mask when she slams the door in his face.

Muttering to herself, she cleans up before slipping the shirt on. It's obviously large on her, just skimming the bottom of her thighs. It smells like him, something so distinct and familiar it makes her relax on instinct.

It's a wonder what good a hot shower can do for you.

Ghost is already stretched out on the mattress when she emerges from the room. He spares her a glance, and she visibly sees something like muted interest snap into his eyes even despite his lack of words.

She'd be lying if something in her doesn't preen at the way his eyes subtly follow her across the room.

Neither of them exchange a word as she slips into the covers next to him. Both of them barely fit on the mattress, but neither having the energy to complain. They don't brush against each other but if she shifted they'd definitely touch.

The room was secure, they'd done a thorough sweep and checked the doors and window, all the locks and for cameras. Nothing of interest, so they allowed themselves to let their guard down.

"Sharp 05:00 tomorrow, Sergeant." He says into the dark.

"Copy." She stifles a yawn and they fall into silence.

His heat is unbearable. She can't push the thought out of his mind, the knowledge that he's right there, a fingertip's distance away. She can hear his steady, quiet breath, almost taunting her.

Despite her exhaustion, she stays awake, turning onto her side away from him hoping that the movement would dislodge the thought from her mind. She needed sleep, needed to relax but isn't that impossible with how all she needs to do is lean back a little to touch him-

She huffs silently, turns onto her back again, rustling the sheets.

No, this was bad. Her body's tired but her mind and heart are racing. Traitors.

She shifts onto her side again-

"Fucking hell, will you stay still?" He rumbles, startling her. The gravelly, tired voice shoots straight to her head and if she were standing she's sure she'd have to grab onto something to stay upright.

She mumbles out an apology. "Can't sleep. Little chilly, isn't it?" She bluffs.

When he stays silent, she thinks he may have just accepted the answer. Letting out a shaky exhale, she turns again-

She freezes when he turns with her, a strong arm banding around her middle, holding her in place. "You gonna make me hold you in place?"

Bless whoever's up there for the dark because her face is burning.

"Would love that, actually." She mutters to herself before she can reign the impulsiveness in. Her body stiffens when she hears her own voice, and she's ready to spring up and apologise, tell him she didn't mean to make him uncomfortable, ready to banish herself to sleep on the floor.

But then Ghost hums.

His hand starts to drift. She swallows as he traces a slow path down to where his shirt's hem is, toying with the fabric between his fingers.

Dream, this must be a dream-

He tugs her backward into him, into his warmth and his soothing scent and something about it has her going completely boneless. It felt...comforting. Felt nice to be held. Ghost takes to tracing small circles into her skin, soothing and repetitive. "Relax." He orders, albeit with less of a push.

A shiver runs down her spine as she feels his breath fan over the back of his neck. The bastard notices too, if for the way his chest rumbles with a chuckle.

There's no way Ghost doesn't feel her heart pounding against him.

Maybe it was the comfort of the dark that makes the both of them so bold, but she takes in a shaky breath and reaches for his hand, stilling it in place with her own. They stay like that for a moment, and suddenly the silence isn't as unbearable.

Eventually, her breathing evens out, her eyes become heavy and she finds the tension draining out of her. Nothing would happen to her here, she didn't have to worry about anything right now. Just sleep. Just sleep and the warmth that enveloped her, and why the hell was he so warm and why does she want more of it?

Right before she lets the lull of sleep pull her under, she mumbles a whisper of thanks to him.

She doesn't think she imagines the content sound he lets out in response.

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(2/09/2023)

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gurugirl · 7 months

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The Trapper | special preview

Series Summary: Set in the 1850s, a long distance romance (of sorts) between a traveler who hunts for a living and an innkeeper's daughter.

Part 1 summary (preview below from part 1): Harry's been away from Sage Lake for a year and Y/N thought she'd never see him again. But he's returned with the intention of taking her with him next time he leaves.

1.5k word preview

Harry always looked forward to visiting Sage Lake on his travels. He tried to stop there as frequently as possible but the life of a hunter and trapper on the range was unpredictable.

This year, luck had been on his side. The population of deer, muskrat, and possum was overwhelming the North plains and Harry was a skilled hunter who used this to his advantage. The overpopulation was causing disease amongst the animals and ruining farmer’s crops so Harry was seen as a savior of sorts. He sold his trappings to the locals, from town to town he’d travel. Fur, tools from bone, dried and salted meat, and even decorative pieces of jewelry he crafted.

He had quite the haul in his wagon as he entered the lovely little lakeside town. The townsfolk waved at him as his horses pulled him and his carriage through the bumpy dirt road to the inn where he knew he’d have a room waiting for him.

It had been nearly a year since he’d seen her. The innkeeper’s daughter was a beautiful and smart girl. Sassy if he was honest. Though he could put her in her place if needed. He smiled to himself thinking about their last interaction.

“Well then go mister Big Bad Hunter! Life out there is far more exciting than staying put in this old town. Nothing here to keep you anyway is there?” Y/n had her arms crossed over her chest as she stood out on the dusty porch of the inn and watched Harry load his saddle.

Harry nodded without giving her a glance. He’d always been a man of little words but for Y/n… he was different. He loved teasing her and often gave her lip back because she was fun to rile up. But in that moment, he was feeling the sting of having to leave again. Truth was he would have liked to stay longer. Figure out whatever was going on with his feelings for the girl at the inn. But he had a job to do. He was a hunter by trade and keeping the miles of Northern range and plains people fed and clothed was important to their survival, especially during the wintertime. And he needed to survive as well. All his trappings and wares were dwindled to decorative pieces and jewelry that didn’t sell as quickly as the more practical items.

He felt her hand on his arm suddenly and turned to look down at her, “Always gonna be like this? You just come when you feel like it? Leave when you please?”

He sighed. Her pretty big eyes always got him. He’d never once kissed her lips but he’d dreamt of it more often than he liked to admit, “Of course, I have to leave. I’ve got nothing left. It’s time for trapping, the season is here. People need fur and meat and tools and I intend to provide it for them. Helps me survive as well.”

She let go of his arm and huffed, turning her back, “I know. But I hoped…” Her following words were too quiet for the hunter to hear so he grasped the back of her arm and pulled her toward him.

“Speak up, girl.” He spoke and gripped her tight when she tried to yank her arm from his hold.

“S’nothin’. Go on then. Leave.” She looked downward and Harry, as much as he understood her upset, because he was feeling it quite the same, didn’t like her talking to him that way.

Smushing her cheeks together and tilting her head upward to look at him he spoke quietly, “What’s got you so upset? Hmm?”

He loosened his grip on her chin so she could speak, but he kept his hand on her face to keep her gaze on his.

“Said it’s nothin’. Let go of me.”

Harry couldn’t help but quirk up the edge of his lips. He was too aware of their unique connection and their slowly developing feelings for one another. It had been this way over the years of his travels to Sage Lake, “Don’t be sad, Y/n. I’ll return like I always do and we can go take a midnight dip in the lake once again.”

An annoyed grumble fell from her mouth and she grasped onto his forearm to pull his hand from her jaw, “Don’t care if you ever come back or not. Waste of my time.”

Harry snorted a laugh, “Liar. I’ll be back. And next time I’ll have a nice big carriage with two horses and the biggest bounty you’ve ever seen. Maybe I’ll even stay longer next time if you’re really sweet.”

Y/n’s younger brother stomped through the front salon toward the office where Y/n was checking the log and making sure the guests were all shored up on their accounts.

“Harry the hunter is here! He’s gonna want that big room again!”

Y/n looked up at her brother Matthew with wide eyes. Harry? Her Harry? She stood from her wooden chair, wiped her hands down her apron, and quickly smoothed her wild hair, peeking at her reflection in the wavy glass lamp, “Okay. Go put the linens on the bed and make sure there’s a towel and an extra pillow like he likes.”

Matthew stood grinning at her with his hands on his hips, “He’s got himself a big carriage and two horses. Looks like he might be ready to settle in for a bit.” Matthew wasn’t the only one aware of the budding romance between the pair. Though she’d never admit to it, it was obvious.

She had been pursued by a businessman not long after Harry left last time. Y/n was beyond the age of settling down. Normally young women would be married off no later than age 20 but when Y/n declined to take the man as a suitor her father was disappointed and expressed it to her for months after. The man had a decent property and made good money. It was time for her to get married, have kids. He scolded her about waiting around for Harry and she denied that was the reason she didn’t want to marry the other man. No one believed her.

But she was thankful that her father didn’t insist. That he didn’t make her entertain the attention of another man. She knew she was lucky that her father allowed her to make her own decisions and wasn’t strict like her friend’s dads were.

And now at 23, Y/n was old by most standards, which she found ridiculous.

She closed the accounts book and placed her quill pin into its inkpot as Matthew left the room. She took a deep breath and went into the salon to pace. Her heart was already thrashing in her chest and her boots clapped along the hardwood floors with each step.

She hadn’t seen him in a year. She expected he’d return much sooner but lost hope after six months. It was difficult not knowing what to expect. Had no way to know if he’d settled in another town with a lovely girl and had already begun a family. Or perhaps he’d frozen to death out there on his excursions. Left alone with his horse tied to a log and his gun next to him, his heart gradually slowing down its cadence as his limbs turned to ice. Yes. She was the type to think the worst.

When she heard commotion from the front of the inn she shook her arms out and bent at the waist to catch her breath and soothe her nerves. She was about to face the man she couldn’t get out of her mind. He took up much of her secret thoughts and now here he was. It would be the longest they’d gone without seeing one another. A whole year and some.

Harry was tying his lead to the post when he looked up and saw the girl, hands on her pretty hips with hair that looked just as unruly as he remembered. She could never tame it. He grinned as he looked back toward his carriage. He was surprised by how excited he was to see her. His own heart thudded under his ribcage. He lifted his hat off his head and smoothed his hair back before placing it back and straightening his face out so that his expression wasn’t a giveaway to the girl at how pleased he was to see her again.

“Been a while. Looks like you kept your word. Big carriage, two horses,” she lifted her skirts and stepped down onto the dirt to take a closer look at his new setup.

Harry’s deep voice and his natural scent had her mind already spinning as he draped a heavy arm over the saddle and faced Y/n, standing over her, “I’m a man of my word. Should know that about me by now.”

She swallowed and tried not to pay attention to how he had the sleeves of his shirt pushed up his forearms, those uncouth and rude tattoos peeking out. The white material was dingy all over and the area under his arms slightly yellowed from his dried sweat. He was a hard worker and she knew his active labor as a trapper kept his body in better shape than most. And she knew he’d want a bath right away too. “Well, let’s get you to your room then.”

A/N: This will be a short series and will only be posted to my new Patreon. If you're interested in reading this love story please sign up! I will be posting plenty of patreon-exclusive content for members as well as new short series and one shots! Don't worry, though, if you're unable to subscribe, I'll continue to post new content to Tumblr regularly as I always have. xoxo

Find my Patreon here!

General tag list: @michellekstyles @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @golden-hoax @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @dirtytissuebox @closureesny @justlemmeadoreyou @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lllukulele @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @kelly-fushiguro345 @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @lc-fics @mema10 @carmenxharry @tswiftsangel @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads

#harry styles #firstpost #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #patreon #preview #harry styles x y/n #harry edward styles #harry styles fiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one shot #harry #harry smut

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captainsophiestark · 6 months

Text

Like A Damn Disney Prince

Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023! It features a ton of other awesome creators and runs all year, so go check it out!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Prompt: Aphrodite; Love, Passion, Beauty, Desire, Rose

Summary: Elijah asks the girl of his dreams to accompany him to the Mikaelson ball.

Word Count: 1,396

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Just a second!" I called at the sound of the doorbell. I set down the whisk and the bowl of brownie batter I'd been working on, then quickly wiped my hands before heading to the door. I peeked outside to see who it was and found none other than Elijah Mikaelson standing there, dressed impeccably in a suit as always and with his hands behind his back. I smiled, trying to ignore my racing heart as I opened the door.

"Hi Elijah," I said. He smiled as soon as he saw me, and my heart thumped a little harder than before.

"Hello, Y/N. It's lovely to see you," he said. With that, he brought his hands out from behind his back and held out a rose to me, along with a nice manila envelope. "For you."

"Oh my goodness, thank you," I said, reaching out to take both items from him. He'd brought me an actual rose, while wearing a suit. Like a Disney prince.

"The letter is an invitation to a ball my mother has decided to throw. She asked us each to find a date, and I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather go with."

"Oh my gosh, Elijah! I... I don't know what to say."

"How about... yes?"

I beamed, holding the rose and the letter a little tighter to my chest.

"Yes. Absolutely yes, I'd love to go with you. I'm so happy you asked."

He smiled. "Excellent. I'd offer to pick you up, but my dear sister beat me to that request. She wanted me to ask you if you'd like to go dress shopping and get ready with her in, say, an hour?"

"Absolutely," I replied with a grin. "Rebekah and I are due some girl time."

"Wonderful. Then I'll see you tonight."

Elijah reached out and took my hand, placing a soft kiss on the back of it before stepping away from me with a smile. My heart melted.

"Until we meet again."

With that, he turned and walked away. I watched him go, waving when he got into his car and gave me one last smile before driving off. I stood on my porch for a few more minutes after he'd gone, a dopey but happy smile on my face. I could already tell this night was going to be magical.

Rebekah showed up on my doorstep an hour later on the dot. She'd just finished asking Matt Donovan to be her date, and although she insisted she didn't have feelings for him I felt confident she was lying. Still, I didn't press her on it as we cruised the shops of Mystic Falls trying on every dress that caught our eye. Once we'd each found the one, we went back to my house to get ready.

"Oh. My. God. My brother is going to have his first heart attack in a thousand years."

Rebekah grinned at me as I twirled around the room in my literal ball gown, feeling just like a princess. We'd done each others' makeup and had gotten completely dressed, and now we were basically ready to go. After, of course, we properly hyped each other up.

"You really think so?" I asked, the heat rising to my cheeks. Rebekah nodded.

"I know so."

"Thanks, Beks. And Matt's absolutely gonna fall over at the sight of you, too."

"You're damn right he is," she said, flipping her hair over one shoulder and holding out her arm for me. "Now let's go, shall we?"

I smiled as I took her arm and the two of us headed out to the car. The last rays of sunlight still stretched over the town as we came to a stop outside Mikaelson Manor. Cars lined the street and every other available parking spot, the party already in swing as Rebekah and I arrived.

"I can hear your heart racing," said Rebekah with a smile as we walked up the steps side by side. I huffed.

"Great. Good to know my nerves will be loudly on display for any vampire in attendance."

"You don't need to be nervous."

She said the words as we came to a stop in the entryway, people pausing to look at us before carrying on with their evening. A little ways up the grand staircase in the middle of the room, I could see Elijah standing and talking to Klaus. When he glanced in my direction and first caught sight of me, however, he froze, mouth slightly open before a smile tugged its way onto his face. He said something to his brother, then started walking down the stairs and towards me.

"See? He's head over heels," said Rebekah, leaning in to whisper the words in my ear. I could hear the smirk in her voice. "I'll give you two some space."

With that, she disappeared into the crowd. A moment later, Elijah stood before me, looking even more handsome than usual (which I hadn't thought possible) in an immaculate tuxedo.

"I'm so glad you made it," he said, his words a bit breathless. He looked me up and down, his expression awed, and I smiled back at him. "You look... absolutely stunning."

"Thank you," I said, doing a little curtesy. Elijah grinned. "You look fantastic, too."

"You're very kind."

He paused, staring at me for another few moments, and despite the noise in the rest of the room I had a feeling he could hear my heart pounding. Finally, he held his arm out to me, grinning with a gleam in his eye.

"Come with me," he said. "I have a few people I'd like you to meet."

We made our way around the room, me holding tight to Elijah's arm as he at last introduced me to the rest of his family. I'd met Klaus and obviously Rebekah, but now I got to meet Kol, Finn, and his mother, too. I got the distinct impression his mother was up to something bad, and Elijah shared similar suspicions with me as we moved back into the crowd. But, for tonight, we decided to put every supernatural problem on hold and enjoy the magical evening together.

Finally, after a toast from the Original family themselves, it was time to take to the dance floor. Elijah immediately found me, offering a hand.

"May I have this dance?"

I smiled and took his hand. "Of course."

Elijah led me out onto the dance floor, twirling me into the dance's starting position amidst all the other couples. All kinds of different friends, foes, and otherwise interesting guests dotted the floor, but I ignored every single one of them. The rest of the room fell away as Elijah and I twirled into the first steps of the dance, eyes only for each other.

"I feel like I'm in a fairytale," I admitted, smiling as Elijah twirled me out and away from him before pulling me back into his chest. The look on his face sent warmth blooming through my chest.

"You certainly look the part of a fairytale princess."

I grinned, laughing a little and leaning my head on Elijah's chest. When I looked up again, I found him smiling at me, and in that moment I couldn't possibly have been happier.

"Says the literal Disney prince."

Elijah chuckled. "A Disney prince, hm?"

"Impeccable manners and honor, a true gentleman, handsome, dresses nice, and brought me a rose to ask me on a date? Yes. A Disney prince."

"I didn't realize I checked so many of the boxes."

"Easily."

"Well then, I'm very lucky to have found my princess."

I beamed at Elijah as the dance wound to an end, his arms wrapped tight around my waist as he held me to his chest. Slowly, just barely, he leaned down and glanced at my lips. I knew he wanted to take it slow for me, which I appreciated, but this was one thing I didn't want to take it slow on anymore.

"May I kiss you?" he muttered, voice low with only a few inches between us. I grinned.

"Hell yes."

"You know, I don't think Disney princesses swear-"

"Oh, shut up."

With that, I closed the distance between us and kissed Elijah, hard. He immediately returned the kiss, deepening it a little bit, although not too much since we were still in the middle of the dance floor. And just like in basically every Disney princess movie, in that moment, with Elijah, I knew I'd found my happily ever after.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

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misseviehyde · 7 months

Text

BULLI-CURE

Looking down at the struggling girl in front of her, Lisa felt a flash of shame and guilt at what she was doing - though it was quickly expunged by remembering all the horrible things this bitch had done to her and Melody.

She had tied her daughters bully to a chair, and gagged her - using loops of rope to tie each arm to the chair rests and importantly each of Kayla's wrists, so each of the girls hands was accessible.

Now try as she might to struggle, Kayla was trapped and unable to stop Lisa from carrying out the second part of her desparate plan to fix things.

After all - wasn't this all her fault? She was the one who had paid for Kate - once her daughters best-friend - to get a set of nails from the salon down the road. She was the one who had enabled Kate to become Kayla.

Kate's Mom and Dad had always been neglectful, and Kate had almost been like another daughter to Lisa. She and Melody were joined at the hip and wherever her daughter went, Kate had gone too.

Kate always looked so drab, she never had pretty dresses or nice hair. She was a tomboy with no confidence. When her birthday had come along and her parents hadn't bought her a present Lisa had felt heartbroken.

She'd decided SHE would get Kate something nice. She would buy her a makeover and pay for her to get her nails done.

The salon in town had only been too happy to help. They'd asked Lisa exactly what sort of nails and makeover she'd like to give Kate.

"Oh, she's such a fragile little thing. Can you make her feel more confident and assertive. Can you also make it so that she gets to be the centre of attention for once and that her parents and everyone else spoil her a little bit?"

She'd driven Kate to the salon and ushered her inside. Kate had looked unsure, she'd never been to a nail salon before but Lisa had just smiled encouragingly.

"Go on - then I'll drive us back later. Melody may even be a little jealous of you, but she'll understand."

The salon had insisted that Kate go into a backroom and Lisa had waited outside. She had heard some strange noises in the back - it sounded like a woman moaning and the rustling of clothing, the clicking of heels.

Intrigued she had waited until the receptionist wasn't watching and then quickly snuck into the back. A strange pink glowing light was emenating from a partially closed door and sneaking over, Lisa had peered through.

"Mmmmmmh oh FUCK YESS! Make me into a bitch, I love how this feels!"

Seated in the centre of the room, her legs spread wide and a manicured set of fingers eagerly rubbing her tight shave pussy was Kate.

Her other hand was currently being held by a woman who was applying the last of a set of pink glossy nails. As each one attached to Kate's fingers they glowed pink and she screamed in lust.

The nails seemed to be changing Kate, each one was twisting and bending her body - corrupting her and making her into someone new. Her short brown hair was now long and blonde and as another nails slid into place, it became even silkier and sexier.

Soft pink lips pushed out into a pout as mean blue eyes shone with cruel triumph. Large firm breasts now pushed out from Kate's chest and she was as skinny and curvaceous as a supermodel.

Her clothing had transformed into an expensive figure hugging dress with transparent panels and long sleeves. Expensive jewelry dripped from her body and the smell of Chanel perfume filled the air.

Six inch heels now crowned Kate's feet, a matching pedicure to her new evil manicure on every toe.

Kate's skin was now flawless and tanned, her eyes made up with long fake lashes and her body a wet dream. She looked like a mean popular rich girl and her posture suggested she felt like one too.

As the final nail slid into place, Kate screamed and moaned in triumph. "YES! That loser Kate is fucking dead - I AM KAYLA. Mmmmh I feel so yummy and evil, I love what your magic nails have done to me."

Backing away in horror, to her shame a little turned on, Lisa staggered back to the waiting room and she was stunned a few minutes later when the newly transformed Kayla strode in and looked at her with a twist of disgust on her pretty lips.

"Drive me home you fucking loser, I have things to do."

Lisa didn't know what else to do. She took Kayla home, only when she pulled up to the house where she thought Kayla lived the other girl screamed in rage.

"Are you fucking retarded. I don't live here. I live at the mansion on 1st street."

Lisa found herself driving into the most expensive part of town. She dropped Kayla off in amazement, who without even a thank you strode off into the most expensive looking house on the street.

It didn't take Lisa long to realise that the nails had someone changed Kate and also the reality around her. For some reason Lisa hadn't been affected, but she quickly surmised it might be because she had witnessed the transformation and therefore been immune to some of it's effects.

To everyone else, Kayla was now the richest most spoiled bitch in town. She was a mean, popular bully who didn't care who she hurt.

Lisa went back to the salon, but they just laughed and said she must be mistaken about what she'd seen. A week later when she tried to go back with the police, it was to find the premises were closed down and the business had mysteriously moved.

Meanwhile Kayla's nails showed no signs of aging out or chipping. It was as if they were indestructible. They also seemed to obey her whims. If she needed yellow nails, they would change, if she wanted them French Manicured - they would alter to suit her mood. Lisa began to realise with horror that the transformation was permanent.

Six months passed and Kayla became the terror of the town. She was now dating the hottest boy at school and was relentlessly bullying Melody.

Once the two girls had been almost like sisters, now Kayla seemed to enjoy destroying and hurting Melody, almost as if it disgusted her to be reminded of her old life.

She would make jokes about Melody, physically push her around, spread malicious gossip and even turn everyone else against her. Watching Melody come home night after night, weeping and crying had broken Lisa's heart.

She had turned Kate into this monster, she had to fix it.

It hadn't been easy to capture Kayla. The bitch was suspicious and cruel, catching her off guard and knocking her out with chloroform hadn't been easy. Dragging her into the car, driving her home, tying her up... it had all been difficult.

But now she was here and Lisa was determined to remove the evil magic nails from her if it killed her.

Kayla was fighting like a wild cat as Lisa grabbed her hand and examined the nails. They looked glossy and hard, powerful and impossible to remove. She grabbed a bottle of the strongest nail remover she could find and dumped it over the nails.

She waited a few minutes and yanked at one, but it was welded to Kayla's finger and appeared unaffected by the varnish remover The girl snarled, but her eyes flashed triumphantly. Her eyes said 'you fucking bitch, this isn't going to work'.

Lisa felt a surge of despair. Next she tried a solvent, but that didn't work either. The nails were magical and unaffected by anything she did.

Sobbing Lisa reached down and her own nail clashed against Kayla's. She felt a strange tingle and as she watched the colour began to flow from Kayla's fingernail onto her own.

Lisa's mouth dropped open as she watched one glossy nail transfer to her index finger - smooth, pink and sexy. Kayla convulsed and Lisa saw to her astonishment that her hair was suddenly shorter and darker than it had been.

The nails couldn't be removed, but they could be transfered to a new host!

Pinning down Kayla's hand, Lisa carefully lined up her nails with Kayla's and touched them. She moaned as she felt the slutty evil nails sliding across and sucking onto her own hand. Each one locked into place, and she flexed her fingers admiring the smooth glossy claws and how good they looked.

"Mmmmh fuck yes, give me more," snarled Lisa laughing to see the fear in Kayla's eyes as her body began to change back into Kate's. "Not so cocky now are you bitch?"

Reaching down with her other hand - whilst using her manicured hand to touch herself, Lisa moaned pleasurably as she felt the rest of the nails transfer over to her.

Her whole body tingled and she felt her aging skin become smoother and her hair take on lustre and depth again. Her sagging tits pushed out and swelled up as her ass expanded and her drab clothing became expensive and rich.

Lisa could feel her personality changing and it felt good. Why be some fucking boring housewife when she could be a hot slutty rich bitch who got everything she wanted.

"Ohhhhh Kayla... or is that Kate? I paid for these nails so I must be their true owner. That must be why I was able to transfer them over to me. Now I'm the bitch and you're nothing!"

Lisa stretched, enjoying how good her now younger and fitter body felt. "Mmmmh ohhh yes, that sadsac Lisa is gone, I'm Isla the trophy wife now. My husband is a rich loser who can't stop me cuckolding him every chance I get. My daughter Melody is the biggest bitch in town and you're her pathetic victim."

Kate was now back to normal and staring up at the dominant woman in front of her in horror.

Suddenly the door opened and a big titted blonde bitch in a cheerleader uniform walked in. She looked a little bit like Melody, but a twisted and evil version.

"Hey Mom, what is this loser doing tied up in our house?"

Isla laughed at her protegee and stroked her daughters hair. "She's yours to play with daughter. I hope you enjoy."

Leaving Kate's fate with her daughter, Isla strode away. She had a date with a big black cock and she couldn't wait to wrap her evil new nails around it. Being bad felt so good.

Nothing beat having a good bulli-cure on your fingers...

THE END

#evil bitch #evie hyde #bully tf #magic nails #power swap #bitchification

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digenerate-trash · 4 months

Note

THE FIXED VERSION

Write about Yan Haley watching the reader get exhausted from milking cow’s please

(I promise I was working on this before you sent this ask I just had like 5 fics today!!! Also love Stardew Valley and My Mean Queen)

AFAB Hailey | GN PC

Just a quick stop by and look. Maybe deliver a love note or two. Maybe even a picture. If you're out... you're her muse after all. Then she'd head home. Chat with Alex. Dinner with Emily. Maybe a drink at the pup, some reading. Then routine and bed.

It's a tight schedule. But Haley is good at keeping things organized. She can do everything after all.

Sliding the note into your mailbox was easy. But she really couldn't help herself. She trotted up the steps to your shabby little cabin and looked in the window... nothing.

She clutched her camera a bit before she turned out to look at the field and then at the barn. Your pride is a joy you loved the animals here. You took care of them even though they took hours of tending a day.

Haley made her way to the barn and pushed open the heavy doors before laying her eyes on you.

Sweat on your brow. Thick squeaky rubber gloves. Sat beside a cow as you reach under and try your best to get a yield from it.

For a former city dweller, you sure did adapt to hard work well. She couldn't help herself as she pressed the camera up to her face

The click and then flash of the camera alerted you to her presence.

You rubbed your eyes a bit getting up from beside the cow you pulled the bucket from under it and made your way to Haley.

"Hey- I didn't expect you to come up here today-" you laugh a bit. She looks so out of place in the barn.

"I don't think you get many visitors at all," Haley says. But that's more of a hope than anything

"It's kinda a hike from town. That doesn't seem to stop my secret admirer though." Your face twists a bit with concern. "But enough about that- I'm tired. And you probably are too. Why don't you come in and I'll get you something to eat-

You lead Haley away from the barn setting the milk on the standing bench before heading inside. You shed your gloves and hat at the front door before getting a glass of water for yourself. Then one for Haley

"Secret admirer? Someone in this town is actually into.... all this?" Haley gestures vaguely at you but secretly she's very pleased. You've noticed her. Or at least her notes.

"It's hard to believe but yes... and the notes are getting... worrying..." you say Haley sits down at the table hiding a smirk.

"I thought you fought cave monsters as a hobby- are you telling me some guy is setting you on edge?"

"If it even is a guy-" you cut her off. "But yeah. The notes get very... specific. About where I sleep and what my schedule is. They even make comments about my tan lines it's.... disturbing-"

Haley of course Feinstein a shocked reaction. "My... if I had a secret admirer like that I'd be so flattered."

"You can have em." You say grabbing two plates from the cupboard and grabbing some leftovers from the fridge.

Once you've got two meals set up you hand one over to Haley. "Makes me glad to have a friend like you. Your blunt. But straightforward with me. It's nice to talk to you y’know?" You say taking a large but down into your meal.

Haley kinda twitches a bit at that. She's been struggling with her feelings for you for a while and she can only be honest about what she wants from you in her notes. Still, she's fine to be just friends. For now. Maybe in time when you two finally start to date she can frame someone else for the notes. Or maybe you'll forget about them entirely.

When the meal is done you lead Haley out of the house before looking at your mailbox. "Son of a bitch-" you say the blood draining from your face before you hurriedly open it and take the letter out. Haley's heart skips a beat as she leans in closer to read the note along with you.

"Another love note?" She asks.

You nod hands shaking. Haley still smiles as she looks over the letter. She can hear your breath hitch as you read over the note.

Maybe she shouldn't have put in those shots of you asleep in your bed so soundly. But the look on your face is priceless.

#haley stardew valley #yandere #tw yandere #tw stalking #yan stardew #x reader

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beanghostprincess · 3 months

Note

Transfem Buggy anon, back at it again

Luffy beat the everloving snot out of Kaido. Luffy and his alliance freed Wano. Buggy likely couldn't have visited Wano - soon after the Last Island, there was the hot mess with Roger leaving, the crew disbanding, everyone separating, Buggy+Shanks Survival Mode, the execution, Buggy and Shanks Survival Mode 2 Electric Boogaloo, and by the time Buggy would even be feasibly ready to go, it would have been locked down.

She'd have never once been able to truly visit that place.

And now? Now she has the Guild. She has responsibilities, appearances to uphold, and she'd find out that Luffy has been named an Emperor Officially and Wano Is Free.

She... she wants her mom. Gods, she wants her mom.

She calls Shanks. Asks if he'd heard. Asks if he knows. And he says he was close by. He's so near that he could be docked by the morning. And Buggy aches. How can she make this work? How can she do this, Shanks, she doesn't know what she's doing, it's gotten so crazy so quickly, she's drowning in it-

And he offers an alliance.

A no-harm agreement. Some of his and some of hers, themselves both involved, to go to Wano for personal and professional reasons. Wano is, after all, the homeland of very talented samurai and smiths.

And Buggy realizes the Guild could probably recruit from there - at the very least, establish trade for quality goods. It's a bit far, but it would be worth it for the sheer quality alone - and it would boost the economy.

Shanks would be able to call it an adventure, would be able to set it as a vested interest bc of his history with Kaido, it could work-

Crocodile and Mihawk do insist on accompanying her - for surface level United Fronts, for private "don't fuck it up", for personal "why is she so interested no I'm not curious about her no I don't wanna know her better shut up-"

Shanks gets a kick out of it.

Buggy is so preoccupied with seeing the home Toki told her about, maybe even seeing Toki herself, she's practically vibrating. She's in better spirits than she has been for YEARS.

When they finally arrive, Buggy asks Shanks if she can use his room. He just smiles and nods. When she comes out, all three men are a little breathless bc she's done her hair so artfully, with an unfamiliar hair piece, a loop of flowers made from beads and painstakingly cared for. Her makeup is no less flattering, but the style has changed slightly. Her outfit is a short kimono with half cut sleeves and leggings. She wears it well, and it's only the fact that they know her, have been with her, that has them aware of the fact that she ISN'T in fact a local.

They go to town.

Buggy gets along with them famously. Shanks is a very close second, perfectly mannered, while Mihawk and Crocodile trail slightly behind, out if place and reserved. It's all wonderful, blissful for a few hours, business and pleasure together, before they get lunch at a small restaurant, and an older woman steps over, bows, and asks the blue haired pirate if she "is little Buggy? Lady Toki's girl...?"

Buggy's heart skips a beat.

Toki has been dead for some time now. She fell with the destruction of Oden Castle, may her soul find rest. But she'd been a very close friend, and Toki has told this woman about her loved ones, her children, her husband, her friends, her other baby who deserved a Wano that deserved her in turn. Toki had photographs, keepsakes, and they all were entrusted to her closest friend.

Buggy is emotional. Shanks offers her his arm, his shoulder, and the others are silent, supportive sentinels. The ones who knew her mourned.

Buggy visits her grave. Tells her mom all about herself now. About the things she's seen and done and learned, from the day she watched the Wano shores bleed into the horizon to the day Buggy came home, well and truly.

Crocodile and Mihawk feel as if they are intruding heavily, but Shanks stops them with a look. Buggy did not tell them to leave. She absently waves for them to take a seat with her.

Toki taught her many things - honoring the dead among them. She talks the process out, and neither of her lieutenants mention that she and Shanks both are crying quietly.

The two former warlords learn many, many things about their chairwoman on this trip.

WELEWDJUIWEGFJKIWBFBWEJKFBWEFJKLWENFKLWNEKLFNWKEFNKWLEFNLKWENFKLWENKLFNWELKFNWEKLFNKWLENFKLEWLKFWNEKLFNWEKLFNWLKEFNLKEWFN <- super normal and mentally stable reaction to this. I am SO normal about this (I am NOT).

This is just so beautiful. Buggy finding out her mother is dead but there's so much she can still enjoy in Wano after telling Toki everything that has changed in her life. I think she enjoys the trip and she finally feels at home because everything she knows is thanks to her. Buggy wants the three men to stay with her because she feels a little less alone, and they're surprisingly extremely respectful. I imagine Buggy talking to Hiyori and Momo and it kills me,,, It's so sweet. I think Crocodile, Mihawk, and Shanks are having a moment of peak realization and they're starting to be down down bad for her. Like. There's no coming back after this because Buggy owns their hearts fr. Also, she falls so many times with that kimono because she's still a failgirl and she isn't used to those clothes because the last time she wore one of those was when she was a kid. And yet she still looks gorgeous and like she belongs there.

#sobbing and crying #this is so beautiful #fem buggy my beloved #one piece #cross guild #red haired shanks #sir crocodile #dracule mihawk #buggy the clown #fem buggy

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leupagus · 1 month

Text

BRB giving all the Lannisters a way more satisfying story arc than the one the show foisted on them

The wedding celebrations for Trystane's brother Quentyn and his new bride Desmera Redwyne lasted for nearly a fortnight, with dancing and feasting and even fireworks set off over the bay at the Water Gardens. Every noble in Dorne (and half the nobles of the Reach) had come; even Prince Doran had attended, and it seemed to do him good. His pain-lined face had been wreathed in smiles and he had sat at the head of the table at nearly every meal, coming out from his seclusion for the first time in ages.

Trystane noticed, too. "I don't think I have ever seen Papa so happy," he whispered, leaning toward her during the feast on the last night.

"It's because he has got rid of one troublesome son," she teased him, tapping her finger on his nose. It was true enough: tomorrow, Quentyn and Desmera would travel back to the Arbor where they would take up their duties as heirs to Paxter Redwyne.

Trystane scrunched his nose and moved closer to her on the bench, sliding his arm around her waist. "Soon he will be got rid of another," he murmured in her ear, kissing her gently on the cheek, then the neck.

"Ah, ah, this is not your wedding yet, little brother," warned Arianne as she briskly tapped them on their shoulders, pushing them firmly aside so that she could sit between them. "Room enough for the Mother, if you please."

"You're my sister, not my mother," Trystane grumbled. "And there isn't enough room for your backside!"

"Trystane!" Myrcella protested, but Arianne had it well in hand.

"If I were Mama, I would spank you on yours," she told him, and swatted at him anyway. Trystane yelped and hit her back, and their end of the table erupted into chaos as brothers and sisters, cousins and friends all shrieked and jabbed at each other, tickling and pinching as one can only do to those one truly loves.

Arianne and Myrcella had been thick as thieves when she had first arrived at Sunspear, still dreadfully homesick and afraid. Uncle Tyrion had promised her that the people of Dorne would treat her well; but though everyone had been kind, it was only Arianne who had truly been a friend at first. She had sneaked into Myrcella's room and hid behind drapes or under the bed to jump out at her, shown her the sights of the Water Gardens and Planky Town alike, even encouraged her to speak with Trystane, who at 15 had been terribly spotty and sulky.

Then Arianne had gone to visit her mother and her family, in far-off Norvos. It had been planned for only a few months, but the time had stretched on and on, and only Quentyn's marriage had brought her back at last. Myrcella had missed her even as she had grown closer with Trystane, and part of her dreaded their marriage that would take her away from the drowsy warmth and comfort of Arianne's company, even as it would deliver her back to her family at King's Landing.

Later that night, Myrcella crept into Arianne's chambers and hid inside the great wardrobe, keeping the door half-open as it had been already. (Arianne was shockingly untidy for a princess, and refused to allow any servant in her quarters to deal with the resulting mess. She used to drag Myrcella to her rooms once a month or so and make her sit on the bed, while Arianne picked up the clothes strewn about the floor or flung over the backs of chairs and complained about her own bad habits. Already, Myrcella thought, Arianne could do with a good cleaning.) A short while later the door to the chamber opened and Myrcella readied herself to jump out, just as Arianne had done to her so often.

But Arianne was not alone.

"—Yronwoods aren't pleased by the match," someone was saying. "Lord Anders thought Quentyn would marry Gwyneth, after being fostered with them for so long."

It was Ellaria Sand. She hadn't been seen overmuch at Sunspear since returning from King's Landing two months ago, Lord Oberyn's body in tow. Since then she'd avoided the court, instead spending time with Oberyn's daughters. The few times Myrcella had seen her, Ellaria had been as warm and friendly as before, but with a knife-edge to her smile that Myrcella recognized all too well from the courtiers in the Red Keep. She'd had taken care not to be alone with Ellaria, nor with the Sand Snakes, since then.

"Then Lord Anders is a fool," said Arianne in her sing-song voice, "and should be regarded as such. Gwyneth is a lovely girl, but she is far too little for a Prince of Dorne. The Arbor is a more valuable holding and the Redwynes far more valuable allies."

"And once Trystane is married to his blonde bastard girl, you will have both your brothers safely out of Dorne," said Ellaria. There was the sound of clothing being moved about, and Ellaria sitting down. "Really, dear, you ought to have someone clean in here. There could be mice, for all you know."

Arianne laughed, as though Ellaria had only insulted her housekeeping. Myrcella's hands clenched into fists. Was this what Arianne truly thought of her? And in Dorne, of all places! Where Ellaria herself, and all her lover's daughters, carried the last name of Sand! Ellaria had made much of the Dornish saying that bastard children were born of love and passion, and thus as trueborn as any child conceived by wedded parents. But clearly she held Myrcella in as much contempt as any of the rest of them would back home, if they knew the truth.

They never knew King Robert, the man who'd never once looked at her or her brothers but with resentment and bitterness. None of her mother's children had been loved, not by that oafish lumbering stag who saw them all as shackles that tied him to the Lannisters he hated so much. What shame was there in knowing her true parents, at least, loved each other? And loved their children, even if only one could dare show it? Myrcella wanted to burst out of the wardrobe and declare that she would gladly call herself Myrcella Waters — Myrcella Lannister — and dare anyone to judge her for it.

But she huddled further into herself and listened, to hear what else Arianne might say.

"I've stayed away too long," is what she said, "if you're this comfortable calling poor Myrcella such names. She's done nothing to you—"

The scrape of a chair signaled that Ellaria had risen once again. "Her family murdered your uncle, who you seemed once to love—"

"—and yet I have been informed of a certain present you sent to Queen Cersei just a few days ago," Arianne overrode her. "A snake, with Myrcella's pendant in its mouth. Hardly subtle, my dear."

Ellaria did not answer, and Myrcella put her hand to her mouth to keep her own silence. Her pendant had gone missing during the wedding celebrations, she had thought a victim of one of the more energetic dances on that first night. But Ellaria had got hold of it somehow? And sent it to Mother as a...threat, it seemed. Or a warning.

"What do you want, Ellaria?" asked Arianne with more gentleness than Myrcella felt capable of. "The Lannisters have already suffered, even if not by our hand: their patriarch dead, their firstborn dead, their brother Tyrion probably dead and certainly dead to them. Even Casterly Rock itself is in dire straits, from what I've heard. You've spoken to my father a great deal of vengeance — but where will it end? Will it be satisfied with Myrcella's death? Or do you need every child of theirs to die, before killing Cersei and Jaime?"

"I—" Ellaria's voice was thick, and there was a long moment of quiet before she spoke again. "I do not know," she said at last, as if confessing.

"Well, I do know," said Arianne briskly, "and I will tell you, if you will listen."

"...I will," said Ellaria slowly. Myrcella hardly dared breathe.

"Good. I did not linger in Norvos for nothing, much as I love Mama. Do you remember Illyrio Mopatis, the magister from Pentos? We met him years ago, when I was a girl and you and Oberyn took me with you to Essos. You were pregnant with Dorea, I think, and Obella and Tyene followed you everywhere with pillows for your chairs. Illyrio then got you a litter and had you carried everywhere."

"Gods, yes," Ellaria said, chuckling. "And he had one to match!"

"Uncle Oberyn kept crowding out the litterbearer in the front so that he could carry you," Arianne said. "At any rate, I saw him — Illyrio. He came for a visit to Mama's estate, and we spoke at great length about certain plans he has been making."

Ellaria's laugh now was sour. "Ah yes, he and the Spider have been making those plans for nearly twenty years, haven't they? Put the Targaryen boy back on the throne with the assurance that this one is sane." She snorted. "They thought Rhaegar was sane, too."

"If by 'this one,' you refer to Viserys Targaryen, his sanity is a moot point," said Arianne. "He's dead. Has been for several years, apparently. But his sister Daenerys has survived. She's been making quite a nuisance of herself in Slaver's Bay. Along with her three dragons, Illyrio tells me."

"Dragons?" Ellaria scoffed. "Illyrio's always said a great number of things. That never made any of them true."

"Which is why I want you to go and find out what is true. Meet with this Daenerys Stormborn yourself. Take her measure. I could only discover so much in Norvos, with Mama's eye always on me. She doesn't approve of Papa's conciliation to the Red Keep, but stories of Targaryen princesses and their dragons aren't to her liking, either."

"Are they to your liking?" Whatever response Arianne made, it seemed to satisfy Ellaria. "Very well. I have two conditions."

"Only two?"

"First, I shall first go to Pentos first and speak directly with Illyrio. He never could lie to me, and if he is so sure Daenerys Targaryen is the true ruler of Westeros then he'll be willing to back that up with coin and supplies. Which we'll need, in abundance."

Arianne sighed. "Very well. Though if you venture so close to Norvos, Mama will insist you visit her."

Ellaria made a prevaricating sound. "Your mother always liked me best."

"She did. And does. What is your second condition?"

"Our daughters come with me. All of them."

"No," Arianne said flatly. "Aside from the fact that it will look strange to have all the Sand Snakes gone, Lorenza is barely seven years old. You would take her across the Narrow Sea to a slave city?"

"Better than leave her here, where Doran can fill her head with his witterings about peace and forgiveness," Ellaria snapped. "If she dies — if any of us die — at least we will not live like your father."

"Take Nymeria and Tyene," Arianne countered. "Obara, if you must. The rest of the Snakes are better off here. What would Sarella do in Meereen, or Astapor, or Yunkai? Those cities do not have a reputation for academic pursuits."

"She can bring her books with her. All of us go, or none. I want nothing of Oberyn left behind for someone else to take from me."

Arianne sighed. "I'll consider it. But I want you to consider, too. If this Daenerys Stormborn is what she is said to be, she will retake the Iron Throne 'with fire and blood.' Take care that it is not your blood, my dear."

They spoke for a bit longer, until the bells chimed the hour and Ellaria departed. How long until Arianne went to bed? Myrcella might stay here the whole night and then what would she do? Who could she tell? Who did she want to tell?

"You are thinking loudly enough to wake the entire palace, little lioness," said Arianne, and opened the wardrobe door all the way. Myrcella shrank back but it was no use; Arianne was looking down at her, shaking her head. "Let's talk, so that you might be a little quieter."

"Are you going to kill my brother?" she asked, not moving.

"No," Arianne said, with a certainty that Myrcella could not help but believe. "Nor will I let anyone else. We do not hurt children in Dorne." She held out her hand, and Myrcella took it.

They sat down on the bench near the window, the one that overlooked the whole of the palace and beyond that, the city of Sunspear itself. The stars here were clear and bright, even with the torches and lights from below burning merrily at this late hour.

"Tommen's in King's Landing, not Dorne," was the first thing Myrcella could think of to say. "And he's not a child anymore." Nor am I, she thought.

Arianne rolled her eyes. "So literal. I forgot this about you. You're right — he's a man grown now, and a husband soon, and already a king. But he is not to blame for the way things are now, anymore than Viserys and Daenerys were to blame for what their father and brother did during the Rebellion."

"My father always said Uncle Stannis should have killed them when he had the chance." She could remember that argument well, as it was one Robert made whenever Uncle Stannis irritated him — which was often. You had only to take them and drown them, and you couldn't even manage that! My brother the great tactician, bested by infants!

"I very much doubt your father said any such thing," said Arianne tartly, "Though I am sure King Robert said it often enough." She tilted her head as she regarded Myrcella. "When did you first realize? About your parents?"

Myrcella hesitated, but it seemed silly to pretend ignorance now, of all times. "I've always known, I think. When the ravens came from Dragonstone, from Uncle Stannis, saying that we were bastard-born...it wasn't a surprise." Nor had she been surprised at her not-uncle's blunt declaration, cutting himself off from all claims of blood and family. Stannis had always been a hard man to love; she suspected he found it hard to love others in turn. Perhaps it had been as great a relief to him as it had been to her, to know there was nothing that bound them to each other after all.

"I am glad you know," said Arianne, "but that is one reason I wanted you to hear Ellaria's plans, as well as my own. She wants to hurt your mother and father very badly. Her rage has made her blind. My hope is that distance, as well as time, will allow her to see clearly again. But in the meanwhile it is best for everyone if you and she are far away from each other."

"But...those things you said, about Daenerys Targaryen. You want her to come here?"

Arianne sighed and took Myrcella's hands in hers. They were small and soft, dwarfed by Myrcella's long fingers. "Daenerys Stormborn is coming here. Nothing can stop that; sooner or later, she will arrive with her dragons, and she will take the Iron Throne. If your brother and your parents are to survive it, they must have somewhere to go. Someone who will take them in."

Myrcella stared at her. She couldn't mean Dorne; for one thing, Mother would never agree to live out her days here, strolling about the Water Gardens and bathing in the Summer Sea. For another, the Martells and the Targaryens had a complicated enough relationship; even Doran, even Arianne, wouldn't risk the wrath of a new queen by hosting the old king.

"Perhaps Highgarden—" but even as Myrcella said it she could see it for the farcical suggestion it was. She'd never met the Queen of Thorns, but she knew the Tyrells had sided with the Targaryens during the Rebellion; Olenna Tyrell would be only too happy to turn the Lannisters right back over to Daenerys should they put a foot wrong, even if Tommen's marriage to Margaery went through. Which left—

"Casterly Rock," she said, and felt ashamed that it had taken her so long to understand. "You want me to hold the Westerlands." It made sense: Jaime was still in the Kingsguard and likely to remain so, and Uncle Tyrion was long gone (and would be barred from inheriting anyhow, given the accusations that he had murdered Grandfather). Uncle Kevan and Lancel might have claims to it, but Tommen's last letter had mentioned Lancel's latest obsession with some odd religious sect that had gained popularity in the Crownlands. Which left...herself, of all the remaining Lannisters.

Arianne nodded. "Casterly Rock. You were raised to be the wife of a great lord. But I think you are better suited to be a great lord yourself." She lifted her eyebrows. "More importantly, little lioness, what do you think?"

All at once she wanted it more than breath: a home of her own, a castle, a people, a kingdom. A chance to be fair and kind and noble not just amongst the simpering painted faces of court, but in a place where fairness and kindness mattered. She could take Casterly Rock and make something more of it than the just golden bank of Westeros. Myrcella could feel a ravening hunger in her that she'd never imagined, that would take all of the Westerlands to sate.

Myrcella held on tightly. She could feel her fingers turning to claws, her hair a wild mane. "Yes," she said, her voice barely above a whisper but roaring louder in her head, in her throat, in her chest. "Yes."

#is Myrcella a little gay for Arianne? listen who isn't #I firmly believe if Arianne had been allowed to exist on the show things would've gone way better for the Martells #just like in general #and yes I know I'm not having Quentyn do his Essos thing but lbr that baby should just live in a nice protected arbor #he is not made for shenanigans!#anyway today me and mardia hashed out what the lannisters were up to #because honestly does anyone actually enjoy that whole plot through seasons 5 and 6?#this baby can fit so many actually competent characters #got: bitches get stuff done #game of thrones motherfuckers #ficcage of interest

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its-vannah · 1 year

Text

Midnight Rain | Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader

A/N: Y'all have no idea how happy I am to finally release this chapter. Although this series is a crossover between Jace x Reader one-shots and Midnights, this one adds in a classic fairytale spin, as it's based off of Sleeping Beauty (the Disney version, we don't condone the original). I hope you guys enjoy reading this one as much as I loved writing it.

Warnings: Mentions of death, fighting, violence

Midnights Masterlist

Just what we wanted, just what we wanted

Everything had gone to plan. You were tucked away in one of the far eastern towers in Asterthal, forever at rest while your palace was in shambles.

My town was a wasteland

Homes had been burned, the palace ransacked, bodies were left littering the ground.

Full of cages, full of fences

Sites that had once attracted outsiders were now unrecognizable, reduced to ashes. Those who had survived the attack were kept inside cells beneath the palace, waiting for their executions.

And the life I gave away

If you had been awake to see your people now, you would've been devastated. But after one of your friends, who had been working as a spy for the Queen, slipped you a sleeping concoction, you were unable to escape slumber.

But for some, it was paradise

But the Queen was delighted to hear of your capture. The alliance between the eldest Velaryon-Targaryen son, Jacaerys, and the House of Asterthal's eldest daughter would have been unstoppable.

I wanted that pain

She had ordered your execution, but been advised to put you to rest rather than death. Anything more and she'd be tried for treason against a noble house.

Chasing that fame

So, Queen Allicent sat beside the Iron Throne, a goblet of wine in her hand as she toasted to her recent victory. Long live the Queen.

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

When the news reached Jacaerys that the House of Asterthal had been attacked, his heart dropped. He feared that it was too late, that your life had already been taken.

All of me changed

But when it was revealed that you were alive, he immediately sought out his mother, searching every hall to find her.

Once he spotted her in her chambers, he fell to his knees before her.

Rhanerya looked down at her soon, concern in her eyes, "I'm afraid you've heard?"

My boy was a montage

"She's alive," He managed to blurt out, clasping his hands together, "Mother, please, I must find her."

She hesitated, "Jacaerys, it could be far too dangerous for you to go to her aid. We must think this through."

"I love her, mother. I wish to marry her," He said between bated breaths, "She's everything I ever wanted—everything I needed."

Rhaenyra bowed her head, thinking back to when she lost the man she loved, "My son, do you understand the dangers you will face on your journey?"

Jace nodded, "I understand and accept the challenges I will face."

"Then you have my support," She said, pulling him into a hug, pressing a kiss to his temple, "I love you, my son, come back to me."

Picture perfect, shiny family

"I will," He promised, before pulling away, "And I'll return with her."

On the ride to Asterthal, memories plagued Jace's mind of when you had met. At the time, he had no idea that you were the woman he was supposed to wed. You were simply a girl taking a stroll through the forest.

"Are you alone?" Jace had asked, pulling his horse on a lead behind him, "It isn't safe out here."

But you merely smiled, "I've been living here my whole life, I understand the dangers."

"You live in the woods?"

Nodding, you continued walking, "My family lives in a cabin farther up the hill. It isn't too bad, really. Just farther away from the town."

'Cause he was sunshine

"Do you need a ride back? The sun is about to set."

Shaking your head, you turned back to face him. It was only then that your beauty struck him. You were gentle, steady, but he knew that there was a fire that lay inside you.

I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

"I was told to never trust a stranger," You replied, "But I thank you for your kindness."

"Then let us not be strangers," He bowed, "Prince Jacaerys Velaryon."

Shocked, you immediately curtsied, "I'm sorry, my prince. I didn't know—please accept my apologies. I hadn't known you were to be in Asterthal."

"It's to discuss arrangements between me and the princess."

He wanted a bride

You tilted your head, "The princess? Why, she's been locked away for years. Since she was a babe. Only when the time is right will she be able to wed."

He sighed, "I'm hoping the time is now. We need Asterthal's support now more than ever, with everything going on."

"Then, I wish you luck, my prince."

"I'll gladly accept it, if you allow me to escort you home. I don't feel right allowing a lady like yourself to go on alone," He said.

You hesitated, unsure, "I wouldn't want to impose upon you."

"It would be my pleasure," Jace said, a reassuring smile on his face, "The Prince's orders."

All of me changed like midnight

You returned his smile, "Then I'll gladly accept your offer."

"It's Y/N," You breathed, "My name, it's Y/N."

He walked beside you up the hill towards your cabin, leading his horse behind him. The two of you talked about everything: your upbringings, ability to relish in the peace and silence of the woods, and even shared stories of yourselves that no one had seen. It was refreshing. But then you arrived at your cottage, and your shoulders suddenly dropped.

"I suppose this is goodbye, my prince."

All the love we unravel

Jace sighed, bowing his head, "I look forward to meeting you again, Lady Y/N."

He was sunshine, I was midnight rain

Drowning, you shook your head, "I'm not sure that's a good idea, my prince. You're betrothed. It wouldn't be becoming of us to see one another again."

He paused for a moment, "I nearly forgot."

You reached out to grab his hand, giving it a small squeeze, "As did I. But there's a stark difference between the world's we're used to. I'm not sure it would be wise for this to continue. I apologize, my prince."

He wanted it comfortable

"It's I who should be apologizing, my Lady," Jace said, "I've become comforted by your presence in this short period of time. I bid you farewell."

With that, pain heavy in his chest, he pressed a kiss to your hand, walking away with a heavy heart.

"I was comfortable, too," You muttered, leaning against the doorframe.

Now, riding on his dragon to Asterthal, Jace couldn't help but smile. From the moment he met you, he knew you were going to have a big meaning in his life.

A slow-motion, love potion

But until he had spoken with the Lord and Lady of Asterthal, he hadn't known that their daughter, Y/N, had been hidden away in a nearby forest. As soon as he heard your name, his heart swelled. He had known it then, and he knew it now: you were the love of his life.

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

Dismounting his dragon, Jacaerys fought his way through the knights guarding the entrance to your chambers, his sword impaling and beheading several men who came his way.

Their swords had been held high, but their skill was no match for the young prince and his dragon.

Finally reaching your chamber, he threw the doors open, panting.

Throwing his sword down beside him, Jace kneeled down beside your bed.

Pressing two fingers to the side of your neck, he felt a steady pulse.

Reaching into his satchel and removing an antidote, he held the vile firmly in his hands as he twisted the cork off.

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he opened your lips and poured the liquid down your throat.

A deep portal, time travel

Waiting for a sign to show that you were awake, it took a few minutes before you stirred, groaning in your sleep.

Your body had to have been sore from the position you had been in the past few days. So when you opened your eyes, meeting Jace's gaze, it didn't take you long to lurch forward, grabbing his collar and pulling him towards you.

Lips moving against each other, you held him close to you until you were both so out of breath that you couldn't help but pull away.

Except on midnights like this (midnights like this)

Resting against your forehead, Jace smiled, "I knew it was you.

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ink4blotches · 11 months

Note

Pavitr x reader angst please 🙏🙏

Everyone Loves Heroes(Pavitr Prabhakar x Reader)

I gotchu anon ;))

Got a little confused halfway with this one, so it's a bit confusing to read but bear with me because it's 1am and I'm running on Coca Cola and sour straws :D

Synopsis/Feels: Basically Y/N is this worlds Gwen Stacey, famous for a bit at the end because idk, imagine that press scene from ITSV when MJ was talking to the city after Blond Peter died, reader dies(obv), angst y ag but that's what they wanted, reader is a girl, yeah yeah you get it.

Word Ct.: 885

••••••••••

It was just a normal day. Fighting thugs, feeding stray dogs, eating vada pav, hanging out with the rare, the elusive, the literally famous, singer Y/N Singh, yknow. The norm for Spider-Man: India.

Everything was going normally. A little boring, but normally. Nobody was in a huge amount of danger, and Y/N had worn a lovely outfit, which showed she was in a good mood.

He wanted to spend the entire day with her, to not leave her side. But alas, his duties as Spider-Man prevented him from doing so.

He should've been more careful. He should've stopped and wondered why his Spidey-Sense had been going crazy all day.

But no, he made what seemed to be a tiny mistake leaving her alone.

5 hours later, he's saving a bus from falling off the bridge connecting two cities, after it unfortunately collapsed. Struggling and he can only balance one thing, since even Spider-Man can't balance a bus with one hand.

He thought everyone had gotten away. That everyone on the bridge was safe.

"Hey, look out!"

That's when his heart absolutely shattered. He'd recognize that voice from a billion miles away. It was Y/N Singh. HIS Y/N Singh.

And she was there.

He could barely keep the bus up as he tried desperately to get a look at where his love was.

"It's okay...here, I'll carry you." He watched helplessly, his arms aching from holding a bus up alone, and his eyes stinging from the wind blowing through his cracked lens.

As Y/N grabbed the kid's hand, she seemed to notice the same thing Pav did.

She didn't have enough time to carry that kid away.

So she turned, giving Pavitr a quick glance. And despite not knowing the Spider hero, she put her faith in him to save the kid.

And so, a split second before the bridge collapsed, Y/N Singh tossed the kid, then falling the the streets below.

And Pav was helpless to do anything.

•

Pavitr tapped one of the microphones once, then a second time, causing the feedback to ring throughout the ginormous speakers set up around town hall.

"Sorry- I've never done anything like this before. And I don't have anything prepared to say..." Pav trails off, glancing at all of the cameras and eyes on him.

Mumbattan had just lost it's most beloved singer, who was well known to be dating Pavitr Prabhakar. It was an absolute bomb dropped on the poor city.

So right now, they needed someone to tell them it was gonna be okay. That, with time, everything would go back to normal. And they would rely on her boyfriend to tell them that.

But alas, Pavitr had also lost a piece of himself. He wanted to go home and cry, maybe even beat himself up for failing to save her.

The only reason he's here is because Gayatri and Inspector Singh expressly asked him to be. So he took a big breath before just...speaking his mind.

"I'll be honest. Y/N and I have been dating for 4 years, as most of you know. And in those 4 years, I found myself more than I had in my entire life before I knew her. I was lucky to know her on such a personal level, and it's...hard. Knowing she's gone. At times she would go on tour for months, but I knew she'd be back. Now...she's gone. Forever." Pavitr paused, sniffing in to stop his nose from running.

"Y/N was an amazing person. She was an inspiration to many, a light in the darkness to some, a friend to all, as well as a daughter to Mr.Singh, and sister to Gayatri Singh. And, at the end of her life, she was a hero.."

Pav thought for a moment. He shouldn't say the next part, he really shouldn't.

But he did.

"But she was also my girlfriend. And I hate that the world took her away from me so soon. As much as it pains me to say it, I can't lie. I hate that she had to be the hero that saved that boy. We all love heroes, and we're all sad when they pass away. And that sadness passes in a few weeks for most. But to me, Gayatri, and Inspector Singh, we can't just turn off the channel and pretend it didn't happen."

Pav knew he should've just stopped there, and everyone else did too.

But in a way he was talking to Y/N as well, hoping that his message would get to her no matter where she was.

"In the end, everyone loves heroes. Until they're the people close to them. Then it's a completely different story."

Pav knew he was condescending himself. He knew he wasn't making any sense. He saw poor Gayatri burst into tears less than 10 feet away from him.

But he had to keep going.

"I just wish Y/N could've been selfish for once in her life. Prioritized herself over a kid she didn't even know so she could stay with me. But she couldn't. It wasn't like her."

Pav took a deep breath, leaning closer into the microphone for his final word.

"And that's what I loved about her."

#pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr x reader #pavitr prabhakar #actsv #across the spiderverse #pavitr x you #pavitr x y/n

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cjrights · 28 days

Note

since you asked

CJ sighed, her head resting on Alora's chest as they lay in bed. She gazed up at the ceiling, trying to find something interesting to focus on, anything that would take her mind off of the nagging feeling that had been gnawing at her for days now. It was pointless though; she couldn't stop thinking about it. A new girl had moved to town, and from the moment she saw her, CJ knew there was something different about her. Something that set her apart from the other women in their small community.

Her name was Juice, and CJ had caught herself staring at her more times than she could count. The way Juice's hair seemed to glow in the sunlight, the way her eyes sparkled like diamonds when she laughed... CJ felt like she'd been punched in the gut every time she looked at her. And yet, despite the overwhelming sense of discomfort, CJ found herself drawn to Juice again and again.

She tried to push the thoughts away, telling herself she was being ridiculous. She was happy with Alora, or at least, she thought she was. But as she looked over at her wife, who was sleeping peacefully beside her, CJ couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. That there was this hole inside her, this emptiness that only Juice seemed to be able to fill.

Alora stirred, rolling onto her side to face CJ. "Hey," she mumbled, her voice raspy from sleep. "You okay?"

CJ forced a smile onto her face, feeling a pang of guilt. What was wrong with her? Why did she feel so drawn to another woman when she loved Alora with all her heart? "Yeah," she lied, trying to sound convincing. "Just thinking."

Alora studied her for a moment before nodding. "Well, if you need anything, I'm here." With that, she rolled back over and went back to sleep, leaving CJ alone with her thoughts once more. As much as CJ wanted to join her, to bury these feelings deep down where they couldn't hurt anyone, she knew it wouldn't work. Not anymore. Because Juice had already invaded her mind, her heart... and there was no going back.

Over the next few weeks, CJ found herself spending more and more time with Juice. They would meet up after school, grab coffee or go for walks around town. At first, it was just casual; they were friends, nothing more. But as the days turned into weeks, CJ realized that her feelings for Juice had gone far beyond friendship. She was falling for her, hard.

But CJ knew she couldn't be with Juice. She was married to Alora, and she loved her deeply. So she kept their secret hidden, even from Juice, who seemed oblivious to CJ's true feelings. Until one day, while Alora was out running errands, CJ and Juice decided to hang out at the park. They sat on a bench, talking and laughing, when Alora called. CJ excused herself to answer the call, stepping away from the bench.

As soon as she hung up, an uneasy silence fell between them. Juice looked at her, concern etched on her face. "Is everything okay?" she asked softly. "You seem... distant."CJ bit her lip, fighting back tears. "Everything's fine," she lied again. "It's just... Alora gets jealous sometimes. I shouldn't have answered the phone." With that, she stood up and started walking back toward the bench, hoping that Juice wouldn't notice the way her hands were shaking.

But Juice did notice. And as soon as CJ sat down beside her, she could tell that something was very wrong. "What's going on, CJ?" she asked gently. "You can tell me." And in that moment, all of CJ's fears and doubts came pouring out. She told Juice about her marriage to Alora, how much she loved her but also how much she longed for someone else - for Juice.

It was a mistake, of course. As soon as the words left her mouth, CJ knew she should have kept them locked away forever. But it was too late now. The damage had been done.

Alora found out about their secret meeting eventually.

The silence between CJ and Alora was deafening. They moved through their days like two ships passing in the night, avoiding each other's eyes at every turn. The love that once lit up their world seemed to have dimmed to a mere flicker. They were roommates now, nothing more. It was painful, excruciatingly so, but CJ couldn't ignore the truth anymore. She had fallen in love with someone else, and it had torn her and Alora apart.

One afternoon, CJ's twin sister Luce showed up unannounced. She had always been close to both of them and was the more reliable one , and she could see the strain in their faces immediately. Without a word, she pulled CJ aside and gave her a firm shake. "Wake up!" she yelled. "This isn't fair to either of you. You need to fix things with Alora."

"I can't," CJ whispered brokenly, tears streaming down her face. "I don't know what to do."

Luce sighed, reaching out to take CJ's hands in hers. "You're going to have to start by telling her the truth," she said softly. "You can't keep lying to her or yourself any longer. You owe it to your marriage... to yourself... to try."

It wasn't easy, but CJ knew her sister was right. With Luce's support, she steeled herself and finally sat down with Alora.

Alora listened to CJ's confession with tears streaming down her own face. She felt like she'd been hit by a truck, her world shattered into a million pieces. For a moment, all she could do was stare at her wife, trying to process the words that had just come out of her mouth. And then, she started crying. Hard. "How long?" she choked out, her voice trembling. "How long have you been feeling this way?"

CJ shook her head, tears falling in a steady stream. "Not long," she insisted. "Not until I met Juice. But it doesn't matter now, does it? Because I can't undo what's already been done."

Alora nodded slowly, wiping away her tears. "No," she whispered brokenly. "You can't." And with those words, their marriage seemed to crumble before their very eyes. There was no forgiveness left in Alora's heart, only hurt and anger.

As they parted ways after that conversation, it was clear that there was no going back. Luce found herself drawn to Juice, recognizing in her the same unyielding strength and resilience that defined CJ. They fell into each other easily, as if they'd been meant to be together all along. And as for CJ and Alora, well...they would learn to coexist as roommates, but their marriage would never truly recover from the damage that had been done.

OK LOWKEY MUNCHEDDD IM VERY MUCH DEAD STILL

this is hurting my heart tho i cannot stand the thought of fighting with my wife 🥲🥲

@iminlovewithpaigebueckers welp im sorry causeeeee

@lucespeaks TWIN. WHY YOU STEALING MY HOES.

#character ai anon #🧃 anon #i love my anons #alora my princess #luce my twin #dysfunctional family #IM PISSINGGG #unserious business #alora x cj fic

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mercurygray · 26 days

Note

A kind anonymous friend here responding to your latest prompt ask!

How about Molly and Rosie with “Stars”? I have become a complete sucker for this pairing and would love to see where else you would take them! (sorry Tab 😏)

Eee, thank you, Kind Anonymous Friend! I am so glad you are on this bus with me. (Sorry, Tab.)

In his dream someone was screaming.

Or maybe it had been something - air rushing over an open port as the plane went into a dive, whistling into the approximation of a human voice in agony. The sound had been endless, and the only thing that had brought him out of it was waking up, Molly bodily shaking his shoulders.

Slowly he returned to himself in the dark. Outside the window it was still night - or terribly early morning - and Molly was in his bed, looking over at him with concern in her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I haven't - haven't had one of those in a while." They'd been quieter, once - his dreams. There'd been a while, when he'd first started, where he simply couldn't sleep, but that had passed, and then there had been nothing until the end of the war, and suddenly everything had started...catching up.

"What are you apologizing for? I don't know a single person who doesn't."

He stared. "You don't."

"You just haven't seen mine," Molly said with a patient enigma of a smile. A long pause. "Do you want to talk about it, or no?"

Rosie swallowed, unsure he wanted to return to the dream. "Not really."

She nodded, eyes understanding. "Smoke?"

He shook his head, and she set the pack back down on the nightstand, thinking for a moment before lying back down on her pillow and patting her chest, right above her heart, as clear an invitation as any. His laugh came out in a little huff and he laid his head down on her chest just as she'd suggested, arms folded to slot better into her side, one of her hands joining his while her other began to pet his hair, her arm a pleasant weight. His ear was pressed to the warmth of her skin and the thin strap of her slip, and just beneath all of it her heart beat slowly on, the oldest human lullaby.

It was somehow easier to contemplate telling her when he couldn't see her face. "We interrogated Goring today."

"Oh?" The single syllable was full of interest - a quiet prompt for more. They had a somewhat unspoken rule not to talk about work, but this felt - different, somehow. Connected.

He swallowed and gathered his thoughts, his fingers still loose in hers, seeing the man's face as they'd laid question after question on the former Air Marshal, sitting in state in his gray uniform jacket, the utter calm of a man who believes himself to be right. "It just…brought a lot of things back, I guess."

Her hand was still in his hair, petting. "I'm sure it would. For anyone."

Outside his window the sky was all ink-black and star spangles, the city around them darker than a city should have been. The hotel where they had him staying was in the older part of town - not that there was much left of old or new. No streetlights here - precious few cars, and the looming threat of blackouts around every corner. Just the intermittent glow from windows, and after that little more between the whole city and the true depth of night.

"You know, they wouldn't ever let us fly at night. They were afraid we wouldn't be able to see the targets. If it was night you weren't flying, so night was…safe. And now it's -" he paused, took a breath, returned to her heartbeat. "Now it's not, either." Now there's screaming in the dark.

She lifted her head up and pressed a kiss into his hair. "On the ground, night means you don't know where the enemy and you don't know where your friends are, either," Molly submitted, still quiet, still stroking. "I used to hate it. Now I think about how it means you'll be with me." Rosie smiled against her skin. "Go back to sleep," she said. "I'll take first watch."

"In case anyone comes for our foxhole?" He asked, just to feel the laugh ripple in her chest.

"Yeah, that."

Rosie closed his eyes, smiling again when she started humming, the music tying him together with her, and he drifted back to sleep thinking of stars, and directions home.

#asked and answered #Kind Anonymous Friend #i have written a thing #mercurygraypresents #tds cinematic universe #molly mahoney

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coraniaid · 5 months

Note

3 + Fuffy

(Angst/fluff prompt list)

OK, I'm a few months late, but at least I managed to get this finished in the right calendar year. I couldn't decide which season I wanted to set this in so I went with: well, basically all of them.

"I've got you," Faith almost blurted out once on patrol, like the worst kind of idiot.

They'd been talking, the way they used to back then, about nothing in particular. Just filling in the time between the next vamp nest, really, as they walked from one cemetery to another. Buffy had been complaining about something terrible her kid sister had done: borrowed her lipstick or torn an old pair of jeans, or lost something she’d been reading for school, or something ridiculous like that. Faith hadn’t really been paying a whole lot of attention, at least not to anything Buffy was saying.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Buffy had finished. “I love Dawn. I do. She’s just … she kind of drives me crazy sometimes. Or all the time, actually.”

(And yeah, years later somebody will explain to Faith that Dawn wasn't ever really there, that some weird old monks just made her think she was for some reason. This conversation never really happened. Whatever. It's how Faith remembers it. It’s real to her.)

“Do you … uh. Do you have anyone like that, back home?” Buffy had asked her. Hadn’t asked her. Whatever.

Buffy used to do that a lot, in those early weeks in Sunnydale, before everything had gone wrong. Ask her about things “back home”, as if Faith had had a home to go back to. As if she hadn’t counted herself lucky to get out of Boston alive with the clothes on her back. As if her mom would have even noticed she was gone back when she was alive. As if the only person in Boston who’d ever believed in her hadn’t gotten torn to pieces for being such an idiot.

And yeah, Faith hadn’t really ever sat Buffy down and filled her in on things, but she’d dropped plenty of hints. More than plenty. They’d just all fallen on deaf ears. It was like Buffy didn’t understand there were people out there who had it worse than she did. Like she couldn’t quite grasp that Faith didn’t have some perfect little nuclear family of her own hidden away somewhere. Like she didn’t realize just how lucky she was to have her Mom and her sister and their perfect house in the suburbs.

As far as Faith was concerned, the Sunnydale Motor Inn was the closest thing to home she had. Which was … well, it was a good thing she had plenty of vamps and demons to take her anger out on. But there was someone she cared about, sure. A reason she was still hanging around in town, even with the creep who killed Diana dead and no sign of any new Watcher arriving to try to tell her what to do next. Buffy wasn't exactly wrong about that.

I’ve got you, Faith hadn’t said. You drive me crazy enough for anyone, but you’re mine. You’re the only reason I didn’t clear out of town while Kakistos’s dust was still warm.

She’d almost said it, but she'd managed to restrain herself. Hadn’t quite been that stupid. Hadn't ever been quite that naive.

Things with Buffy were complicated. Complicated enough that she hadn’t been totally sure they were even friends. Not really. It wasn’t like they really hung out much when they weren’t on patrol. She was hardly inviting Buffy over for sleepovers at her crappy little motel, and she could count the number of times she’d been invited over to Buffy’s place on the fingers of one hand. On the thumbs of one hand, even. Maybe they didn’t have much else in common. Buffy had her Mom and her sister, and her Watcher, and school, and Red and Xander and all her other little hangers-on, and Faith … didn’t.

Maybe she only wanted to think she had Buffy because, if she didn’t, she had jack squat.

The thought of Buffy staring at her blankly while Faith muttered awkwardly about what she meant to her, before making some kind of excuse to leave and then laughing at her later behind her back with all of her real friends … she just couldn’t stand that. Better by far to leave it all unsaid. Better to be alone than to be a loser.

Besides, you couldn’t trust people. She’d been starting to forget that, after running a timber beam through Kakistos’s dead and rotten heart. Getting a bit soft, maybe. A bit too comfortable.

No matter. Buffy had helped teach her that lesson again soon enough. Her supposedly dead vamp boyfriend had been alive all this time. The other Slayer had been rushing off to make out with him in the dark when she’d told Faith she was heading home, probably laughing herself sick at how easy she was to fool. And all those moments Faith had thought they’d shared on patrol meant nothing after all.

I’ve got you now, Faith had thought weeks later, dancing side by side with Buffy in the Bronze, The real you. All to myself.

She’s not sure, looking back, why she’d only thought the words. The music was deafening enough that Buffy wouldn’t have heard her even if she had said them out loud. Probably not even if she’d shouted it. Maybe that’s the answer.

Maybe she was never going to be part of Buffy’s inner circle. Maybe she’d never be invited to secret little Scooby Gang meetings at the school library; maybe she’d only ever be grudgingly let into the softer parts of Buffy’s life. The big suburban house; the dinner table and the kitchen where Buffy still pretended to just be a normal girl. The kind of good little girl who followed orders and played nice with others and who could ever be satisfied by a craving for low-fat yogurt.

Maybe, for a while, that had made her angry.

But now, with the music loud and the other Slayer next to her, maybe that didn’t matter. The crowd around them didn’t matter. All that mattered was that, when it counted – in the dark, out on patrol, outnumbered and surrounded, with adrenaline flooding through them, with their hearts racing together in tandem – she and Buffy were the same. Two Slayers, when everyone said there was only supposed to be one. It didn’t matter that only one of them got the Watcher and the Mom and the simpering little gang of school friends. Not really. When it really mattered, Buffy was hers.

Because she and Buffy were the same, she’d always known that. She’d been sure of it. Sure that, deep down, Buffy felt it too. And now, finally, Buffy was starting to admit it.

She’d not even minded when Buffy had run off to climb all over her pet vampire, wrapping her in her arms the way she never would hold Faith.

(Sure, she’d been kind of pissed when Buffy had abandoned her at Christmas to go and make up with him. She could admit that much, to herself if nobody else. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t. If she danced a little harder with the remaining boys, and smirked in Angel’s direction when Buffy marched back to pluck her out of the crowd … well, she was just having fun, right? Just trying to make the big guy jealous.)

Days later, on their way to deal with another demon creep, she’d almost worked up the nerve to say it out loud. To try to put it all into words, the way she wanted to. She’d been sure, this time, that Buffy wouldn’t be able to deny it.

Just one more vamp to dust, and then, maybe–

(“Faith, no!” she’d heard Buffy shout at her, just a few seconds too late. And she'd keep hearing it ever since, night after night, year after year.)

III

“I’ve got you,” Faith gloated out loud once, when she thought she’d managed to surprise her.

That was supposed to have been her big moment. Her moment in the spotlight. The big dramatic reveal.

“Bondage’s a good look on you,” she’d told Buffy approvingly once Angelus had gotten her chained up. “‘Course, the outfit’s all wrong, but …”

She trailed off, waggled her eyebrows suggestively. No point trying to be subtle now. Besides, she’d have been lying if she pretended not to be enjoying this. She’d never really fit into Buffy’s life the way she’d wanted. Never been convincing playing the part of the little loyal sidekick. Always chafed a little at the role of watchdog. Maybe this town wasn’t big enough for two Chosen Ones after all.

It was just like people had been telling her all her life. She was a loser. An embarrassment. A bad influence, a bad daughter, a bad girl. Why not a bad Slayer too?

Well, she’d show them bad, all right. She’d show them real evil. The world had treated her like crap for years before she’d gotten her powers, and maybe she was owed a little payback. Maybe the next time the Mayor wanted one of B’s little friends taken care of, she’d volunteer for the job herself. That’d impress him, wouldn’t it? He appreciated her for the things she was good at, even if nobody else ever would. If she was going to take orders from anyone, why not him? And that little witch Red had always made it clear how little she respected her. She was practically asking for it, wasn't she?

Thinking about it, maybe killing that poor sap Finch was the best thing that’d ever happened to her. Sure, kind of crappy luck for the guy himself, but it wasn't like people like him really mattered anyway, in the big picture. And it had helped to shake her out of her stupid little crush. Helped her realize that Buffy was only ever going to treat her like shit. Always going to look down on her, like she wasn’t quite good enough. Like the other Slayer was just destined to be better than her, all along.

“I am better than you,” Buffy had told her coldly. “Always have been.”

That was when things had started going wrong, Faith thinks later. Even before the other Slayer had slipped out of her chains; even before that lousy vamp with a soul had revealed he’d been playing her the whole time. She’d poured her heart out, thinking it was safe, and Buffy hadn’t followed the script like she was supposed to. She’d been supposed to be scared. She’d been supposed to be afraid. She’d been supposed to be impressed.

Not that Faith could blame her for saying that, exactly. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t dared her to do it. It wasn’t as if she was wrong. Buffy wasn’t like her after all. Not yet.

Now I’ve got you, Faith had thought, as the knife had slipped up past her ribs, in a brief moment of clarity before the pain. You’re just like me after all.

Maybe she’d never matter to Buffy the way she wanted, but this was a moment that would tie them together forever. Victim and perpetrator. Murderer and corpse. They’d both know, now, that there wasn’t much between them. That Faith could have had it all if she’d just gotten a little bit more luck.

It hurt, sure – it hurt worse than anything she could remember feeling for years – but it was a good kind of pain. Because it meant she was right. Had been right, all along. It was proof.

Proof that their golden Slayer was a killer too. Just like Faith. That she enjoyed it; that she got off on it. That there was something sick and evil inside her, something bad and dark and wrong. Just like Faith.

In another life, it could've been Buffy slitting throats on the Mayor’s orders. Buffy lurking in the dark while Faith basked in the adulation of her own little Scooby Gang. Everyone had to see that now. Buffy herself had to see it.

(Not that Faith wanted that for herself. She'd been better off this way, whatever anybody else thought. Only … it meant something, that Buffy could've been like this too. That she'd only ever been pretending to be better than this.)

After she fell, she’d had one more glimpse of her – the other Slayer, looking down at her, just she’d always wanted – but she’d known that, whatever it looked like, she’d won. She couldn’t keep her eyes open, couldn’t stop the world from going dark, but she’d felt herself smiling at the end. She didn't have to fight anymore. She’d won, whatever Buffy thought.

She’d been wrong about that though. Buffy wasn’t just like her after all. She hadn’t been ready. She’d missed her heart.

“I’ve got you,” Faith had told the stolen face she saw looking back at her in the bathroom mirror.

She couldn’t quite believe it. It didn’t sound right, coming out of that mouth. It was missing something, some undertone or accent that she wasn’t quite pulling off. Didn’t sound like she meant it. She tried again. Tried all sorts of things. Over and over until she was laughing hysterically. Until she was sick with it.

Because she’d won, hadn’t she? The police were dragging Little Miss Perfect off to rot away in jail for the rest of her life – and why not, when you thought about it; wasn’t she an attempted murderer too? – the Council was going to leave her alone, and now, finally, she had it all. The mom, the kid sister, the perfect house. The perfect life.

And she’d fooled them. Fooled all of them. The mom, and the sister, and all of Buffy’s little friends. They thought she was her. The other one. Which had to mean they were the same, didn’t it?

She just wasn’t enjoying it the way she knew that she should be.

Something must’ve gone wrong with the Mayor’s parting gift, she’d told herself. When she’d switched, something else must have come along with her. Something dark and sick and evil. It had to be the spell, didn’t it? It couldn’t be her. She was like Buffy. She wasn’t like that.

She’d washed herself, in that stolen bathroom, over and over again. So many times. Enough, surely, that she should have washed away the dirt. But why didn’t she feel clean? What had Buffy done to her? She’d infected her, that was it. Done something to make her weak. To make her wrong.

And somehow it all got mixed up in her head. Her and Buffy; strength and weakness, victory and defeat. When she’d saved that girl in the Bronze, she’d just been doing what Buffy would have done, right? Just trying to keep her cover. So why did she feel like throwing up when the girl had stammered out her gratitude? Why did it feel so weird to have saved a person’s life? When she’d made it to the airport, why had she turned back? Vampires killed people in Sunnydale all the time. That was why the boss had built the town in the first place. Who had she thought she was fooling? Had she thought anybody would be impressed if she got herself killed fighting some ugly vampire instead of slinking off into the darkness?

That little voice, telling her that it would be wrong to turn away, that she didn’t really have a choice about what to do: that hadn’t been her, had it? She was better than that, smarter than that. Wasn’t she? She’d only ever been pretending. Hadn’t she?

It was almost a relief, in the end, when Buffy had tracked her down, however disgusting it had felt to see herself looking at her in judgment. It had almost felt better when she’d opened her eyes to find herself in her own body again. She hadn’t been ready either.

"I've got you," she’d whispered to herself in prison at night, one finger tracing the faint scar Buffy’s knife had left behind. The mark Buffy had made on her, more than two years ago now. It wouldn’t fade, wouldn’t heal. She didn’t want it to. Some things never go away, she’d told herself.

Not every night, of course. But some nights. The bad nights. Most nights. It was … comforting, in a weird way.

Buffy was out there somewhere, probably not even thinking about Faith at all, but that was okay. She’d made her mark on Faith already. She’d given her something to remember her by.

There were never meant to be two of them. She got that now. She was only an accident. An afterthought. Maybe that’s why she was never quite good enough, why she was never able to make herself fit into the story the way that everybody told her she should. However hard she tried, whatever she told herself, there was only one Chosen One – one girl in all the world, just like Diana had told her back in Boston – only it wasn’t her. It never could have been her.

“This isn’t about Buffy,” Angel had told her, more than once. He didn’t get it.

Maybe it was true for him. Sure, he'd loved Buffy, she knew that – hell, probably still did – but he’d been alive (or undead) for centuries before he ever met her, had done most of his most evil fucked up shit before ever laying eyes on her. For him, maybe redemption really was more about brooding and posing in the shadows and thinking about the past and all the other things he told her about when he came to visit each month.

But for Faith, those two things – the way she felt about Buffy and the way she felt about herself – were pretty much inseparable.

She’d thought they were going to be inseparable, for a while. The two of them: her and Buffy. And in a way, she was right. When it got bad in prison – whenever the walls seemed too close or the other inmates seemed too loud or one of the new girls got it into her head to try something stupid – Faith would imagine the Buffy in her head, and ask her what she would do about it. That’s what doing the right thing meant, wasn’t it? That was why she’d let them lock her up. Because Buffy had said that this was where she belonged.

Buffy wouldn’t want her to hurt anyone else, so she didn’t, however easy and satisfying it would be. When the guards pushed her around, she let them, and just thought about how she’d disarm them and fight back if she wanted. When a new arrival looking to make a name for herself came out with a homemade shiv, Faith took the weapon away from her but let her keep the arm that held it. Buffy wouldn’t want her to do anything else.

And Buffy wouldn’t want her to leave, so she wasn’t going to do that either. Nobody here could have stopped her, after all. Not the guards, not any of the other inmates. Not even Angel, if it came down to it. Nobody could stop her.

(Except you, the Buffy in her head had whispered. You can stop you.)

But sometimes – not too often, but more times than she’d have ever admitted to anyone – Faith let herself daydream about getting out. Not escaping, but something else. About showing up for her monthly visit from the outside world one day to see a new face waiting for her behind the glass. A familiar face. Not Angel, but Buffy. She used to let herself pretend that – if she just waited and worked hard enough – the other Slayer might smile at her again. Tell her that she’d done enough. That she was forgiven.

Except that that Buffy – the Buffy she still talked to in her head sometimes, the one who knew anything about what she was going through in prison – wasn't real. Faith knew that.

The real Buffy – the Buffy living it up on campus still, the one Angel never tells her anything about – she was never going to do anything like that. She was never going to show up here wanting to talk like old times. She was never ever going to forgive her, no matter what Faith did with her life, and who could even blame her for that? Faith wasn’t quite crazy enough to think she could ever earn any forgiveness. Not after everything she’d done.

Still, the scar tissue on her skin was real, wasn’t it? It proved something. Maybe Buffy had moved on, but that didn’t mean she’d never cared. They had a history, even if they didn’t have a future.

They were connected, the two of them. Always would be. Bound together by blood and scars.

VII

“I’ve got you,” she’d said without thinking at the end of the world.

Buffy had been doing this a lot longer than she had by this point – though it hadn’t exactly been her first apocalypse either – but somehow Faith had gotten the sense that this one was different somehow for her. Not necessarily because the stakes were higher (you couldn’t get much more serious than the end of the world), or the threat was more powerful (she hadn’t been around to see it herself, but Buffy had fought a god two years ago, which had to trump some mean old ghost with delusions of importance). But just because Buffy was … older. Tired. Somewhere along the line Faith had realized that Buffy wasn’t expecting to make it through this one.

She would though. That was why Faith was here. Why she’d come back. Why she’d broken out of prison and gotten herself into trouble with the law all over again. Because Buffy needed her – because they all needed her – and it was the right thing to do. The only thing she could do, after everything.

She’d spent so long as a kid looking up at Buffy – wanting her approval, her attention, her life – but coming back to Sunnydale she’d realized that she’d somehow never seen Buffy at all. She’d seen the Mom and the sister but she’d never seen how afraid Buffy was of hurting them, or doing something that would make them reject her. She’d seen the garden and the kitchen and the big childhood bedroom, but she’d never seen how fragile they were; how carefully Buffy had to step to stop herself from breaking them. She’d seen how much Buffy had, and she’d ached with want for it, but she’d never asked herself how Buffy was able to carry it all without collapsing.

She’d tried playacting as Buffy once before – stealing her face, parroting her lines – but it was only this year that she’d tried to really become her. To do what Buffy did, everyday. And not because she was taking that away from her – whatever people thought, that little mutiny hadn’t been her idea, she’d never wanted that – but because Buffy had asked her to do it. Begged her, almost. Whether you wanted it or not, she’d told her, their lives are yours. Protect them.

So she’d tried. Tried harder than she’d even tried before.

She’d hated it. She’d been awful at it. And she’d failed. To nobody’s surprise, she guessed, she still wasn’t good enough. She just couldn’t do it. She wasn’t built to be a leader, to make plans or speeches or inspire. That wasn’t her. It never would be her. And that was okay. She didn’t want to be Buffy.

If she was honest with herself, she’d never wanted to be Buffy. Not really. She’d wanted … well, she didn’t have the words for it. She’d never had the right words to tell Buffy what she wanted.

But when she’d looked Buffy in the eyes, later, in those caves under the world, neither of them sure whether this was the end or not, she’d thought that maybe, for the first time, all of that was okay. Maybe they didn’t need words. Maybe they never truly had.

VIII

Now “I’ve got you,” Buffy promises when Faith wakes up in a panic in the middle of the night, briefly unsure of where she is or how many years it's been. “It’s going to be okay.”

She still has nightmares, sometimes. About growing up; about Boston; about Diana; about prison. And about all the messed up things she did. Lester Worth, begging for his life. Allan Finch, bleeding out in an alley. If you’re a screamer, feel free and go on then, give us a kiss and holding a blade to poor Joyce’s throat. Still remembers the look on Dawn’s face when the kid – the same little kid who'd used to think she was some kind of badass superhero – had seen her for what she truly was. An animal. A monster.

And in her nightmares, that’s who she still is. Who she’ll always be, no matter how much she plays at being redeemed. Something broken and empty and unloveable. Something the demons and vampires have their own nightmares about, not because she’s a Slayer like Buffy but because they can tell she’s something even worse than they are.

In her nightmares – in the worst of them – she wins. The Council lock Buffy up and let Faith step into her stolen life, and the Mayor ascends and Sunnydale burns, and Mrs Post tells her what a good job she did helping her kill Giles, and she sticks a kitchen knife in Joyce’s back and cuts Wesley's throat and Angel turns to dust in the rain in some dingy little alley. And nobody dares look at her or question her or stop her from taking what she wants. Nobody tries to stop her. She wins, and none of it comes close to filling up the hole inside of her that grows and grows until it swallows up the world.

But when she wakes up, she’s safe. Because then the nightmares don’t seem so bad. Buffy puts her arms around her, in the big soft bed they share, promises to look after her, and she falls asleep listening to the other Slayer breathing.

She still has nightmares, sometimes, but it’s getting better. She’s getting better.

And "I've got you," Buffy purrs again on other nights, when they make it back home late after patrol. After she ushers Faith upstairs, arm curled possessively around her waist. After Faith helps unbutton and unzip the other Slayer’s leather jacket, after she watches her pull her shirt over her head in one smooth graceful motion, silently gazing at the sight of the other Slayer in the moonlight.. Mouth gone dry, not wanting to speak in case she shatters the image of confidence and cool she’s sure at least the younger Slayers still buy into, the illusion a part of her still hopes Buffy sees.

Not that she had much chance of maintaining that image here anyway, kneeling as she is on the floor by Buffy’s bed, half-naked herself, staring up worshipfully at the other Slayer. Fighting down the urge to pinch herself, not quite believing this could be real. Feeling just like she had that first night, years ago now, not long after Sunnydale sunk into the desert, as Buffy stands over her and runs her fingers over her bare shoulders.

"I've got you," the other Slayer says once more, almost wonderingly, like she still can't quite believe it either, and all Faith can do is nod, trembling and eager.

Ever since Faith came to Sunnydale she’s been defined by what she isn't. By not being Buffy. She’s been the second Slayer, the backup, the unnecessary spare. The reckless one, the sloppy one. The mistake, the murderer. The bad Slayer. The killer. The monster.

But now, after all these years, things are different. They make sense of each other now, in a way they’d never managed then.

"Who's my girl?" Buffy asks her, voice low and husky, lips close enough to almost brush against her neck, and Faith can't help but shiver in anticipation. Can't help but be amazed, even now, that Buffy Summers is talking about her like this. That Buffy’s hands are touching her, that the other Slayer wants her the way that Faith’s always wanted - aways needed – Buffy, that she spends her nights after patrol in Buffy’s bed. In their bed, together.

Buffy's hand slides down her cheek, tilts her chin up slightly so they’re making eye contact. The other Slayer leans forward and kisses her gently on the forehead. Reminds her, a little sternly now, that she asked her a question.

“Me,” Faith says, voice suddenly hoarse, suddenly almost shy, however ridiculous that seems. “I’m yours, B.”

For a moment, watching the slow, satisfied smile that spreads across Buffy’s face, Faith thinks about how they ended up here. About how impossible it had seemed to her, back then, that this could ever happen. That anybody - but especially Buffy - could ever look at her, and know her, and really want her. Not just for a quick fuck, not just because they needed her help for something, but like this. To want her, the real her. To want to be with her; to build some kind of life together.

Then Buffy’s kissing her again – hungrily, greedily – and Faith stops thinking about anything else. She leans into the kiss instead, breathing into Buffy all the devotion and desire she’s never quite been able to articulate.

She’s got her. Of course she does. She has done since almost the night they met. Since the night they'd killed Kakistos together. She’s got her. She’s hers. She’s Buffy’s.

#asks #thanks!#btvs #my writing #fanfiction #fuffy #buffy x faith

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