#rp fanfiction

[tippenstoepens]

Prettiest Girl in the Room

Anyone would kill to play Joseph Quinn's wife on television. Anyone except you.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

Wordcount: 1.8k

Clubs were not your thing. But you were wrapping the first season of the show that gave you your first lead role on everyone’s favorite streaming service alongside 2022’s it-guy - Joseph Quinn. So you understood why this might be a night out that you couldn’t pass on. Even if it did end in disaster, it was a memory begging to be made.

The main cast had agreed on and planned this night out for the past three weeks in the group chat. The destination was a popular speakeasy in New York, the kind you needed a password for and entered through an inconspicuous door hidden behind a dumpster. 

There you sat at the table, forcing the coolest attitude you could conjure sitting across from your TV husband, Joe. In the six months you spent as his TV wife, you couldn’t imagine why everyone was so head over heels for this guy. Sure, he’s handsome and good with fans, but is that all it took? Was the bar truly that low? Your heart cried for women everywhere. 

He could also be kind of cocky and a bit of a smartass. He would make passive aggressive jokes at your expense. Maybe it was some kind of culture thing you weren’t picking up. He was British after all. He kept calling you “Mrs. Henderson” instead of your own, real name after you had asked him multiple times to stop calling you by your character’s married name when you weren’t filming. Then he just began to tease you about it.

“Good morning, Mrs. Henderson.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Henderson.”

“Good to see you, Mrs. Henderson.”

Holly Vanguard made sure to get the seat to Joe’s right, laughing too loudly at all of his dry humor. She even laughed when he wasn’t making jokes. Maybe she was just stuck in character. She played Joe’s secretary on the show. “We’re both British,” she took care to remind you often. “We get each other.” Why Holly excluded your very British TV father from this covenant, you’ll never know. David sat to your left.

Every so often he would reach over and squeeze your hand in reassurance. When you looked over to him, he’d be smiling softly with encouragement in his eyes. You had developed a negative reputation throughout filming the season because you preferred not to agitate your social anxiety by leaving your trailer. David was the only one you had confided in about it after a particularly stressful day on set. You’d heard whispers of your “stuck up attitude” after passing on a previous night out with the cast (which you suspected was started by Holly). You were sure your bickering with Joe when the cameras weren’t rolling hadn’t helped.

This was your first real gig and the circus of it all drove you crazy. There were a lot of politics involved in being part of a cast of public figures. Apparently, people weren’t supposed to disagree with anyone who had more public recognition than you did - especially if that one was GQ’s Man of the Year. You suspected Joe liked your attitude at least a little bit, but you couldn’t be sure.

“Why don’t we play Spin the Bottle?” Holly suggested to the table, giving Joe eyes.

Groans of opposition came from the older cast members and they excused themselves to the dancefloor after everyone had a laugh. And then there were five. You silently wept at the loss of your emotional support TV father.

“In the middle of a pandemic? No,” Jackson shut it down and made a different proposal. “Let’s play a good old-fashioned game of Truth or Dare. But you don’t get to choose either or - the person asking chooses for you. If you refuse a dare or question, you’ve gotta take a shot of tequila.”

“Every 20 minutes, I’ll refuse a question,” Joe declared and slapped a palm onto the table. His dirty martini shook next to the point of impact. 

The group made rounds around the table and when it came to you, you asked Jackson what it was like to be the most fashionable person in the room at all times. 

“Oh my god, finally someone acknowledges my plight. It’s exhausting. I spend all this time planning outfits and looking amazing, but do I get invited to the Met Gala? No. I don’t even get to look at myself all day, everyone else gets to see my color coordination and I have to look at everyone else’s sweatpants and Wallabees. No offense, Joseph,” Jackson said with no remorse.

“That’s fair,” Joe shrugged and smirked.

In the few rounds you all had, you noticed Joe always dared people to do absurd things like pose with the statues in the back of the club and “stay in character” for a full five minutes or take the fish skeleton off of the plate of the table next to them and cuddle it for a full round.

You thought it was sweet that he only came up with dares that wouldn’t inconvenience the staff and other club go-ers or violate anyone’s boundaries while still managing to be funny. He could easily be obnoxious if he wanted to. He’s not so bad, you guessed.

When his fourth turn came around, he broke the pattern. Joe said your name and you prepared to fully commit to whatever zany bit he’d come up with this time, but he said:

“Truth: why don’t you come out with us more often?”

“O-oh,” you blubbered, caught off guard. “I just… I’m not good with crowds.”

“Oh, come on. I want a real answer.”

“That is my real answer. I’d just make a fool of myself. I’m not…”

“You seem to be doing just fine so far.”

“Well, that’s because David-” You turned to look for him and found him attempting a very bad vogue in a small group of younger people. They cheered and let all sorts of onomatopoeia in encouragement. “...was helping.”

“Alright, alright, but if you don’t come out with us next time, I’ll be wounded.” Joe pressed both hands to his pectoral over his heart.

“Next!” Jackson jeered.

“Oh! Would you look at that, it’s my turn!” Holly squealed. You didn’t have the highest opinion of Holly, but the feminist in you refused to dislike her until she committed an actual crime like vehicular manslaughter. Being annoying wasn’t a serious enough offense.

Holly dramatically adjusted herself in her seat to face Joe.

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room,” Holly slurred and puckered her glossy lips, tilting forward a bit to display her cleavage. Your stomach dropped. Everyone at the table exchanged glances, wondering if Joe was drunk enough to entertain it.

Joe’s eyelids fluttered and his head tilted as he processed what had been said. Had she really just done that? It was only after his eyes flicked over to you that you became aware of the jealousy on your face. Your recovery was quick, but not quick enough. Hopefully he took it as concern or judgement. He knit his brow and chuckled. Shit.

“You got me,” he surrendered. He grabbed a tequila shot from the tray and chucked the liquor down his throat. He didn’t even make a face. It was kind of sexy. No! It wasn’t. It was most definitely not sexy.

Holly exhaggerated a pout to play off the embarrassment. 

The rest of the night went smoothly. The game had got you loosened up enough to make your way to the dancefloor. Everyone whooped and hollered when you did. 

You couldn’t decide if it was just the liquid courage or if you were actually dancing very well. Your movements felt so fluid and you hit every beat - an uphill battle when you were sober. Judging by everyone’s surprise and the circle that formed around you in the middle of the dancefloor, you’d say your theory was accurate. Who knew the shyest cast member could be such a party animal?

After a verse of the 90s R&B song that was playing, you pointed to the first co-worker you laid eyes on and joined the circle as they took your place. 

…

The group stumbled through the hallways of the hotel at four in the morning, trying to keep the volume at a minimum and failing miserably. Your ears must’ve still been ringing from the club. Everyone was giggling and “SHHHH”-ing and repeating their room number.

“25D… 25, 25, 25…” Alex repeated.

“Shhhhh! We’re still in the under 20s! That’s 12D!” Jackson shouted.

“Both of you shut the fuck up! People are trying to sleep!” David whisper-shouted.

Joe shushed all three of them. 

When all the oversized toddlers were dropped off at their respective rooms, there was only yourself and Joe left. You’d wished you had booked a room further away just to talk to Joe a little longer. He was giggly and flushed from the drinks and you had never seen him so… cute. 

Before you knew it, you had arrived at your hotel room door. 

“Have you got your key?”

“Yeah,” you reached into your bag and retrieved the plastic card, holding it in your hands for a bit too long before looking up at Joe. You didn’t want the night to end. His eyes were glossy and full of - dare you say it - admiration.

“Well, I guess-“ “I think you’re-“

“Oh, sorry.” 

“No, no,” you said. “I, um…”

There was another long pause of sustained eye contact. It should have felt awkward or uncomfortable, but it didn’t. A smile spread across his face. You huffed a smaller laugh and found your own lips spreading. 

“Good night,” he said softly.

“Good night,” you barely whispered.

Joe walked down the hall as you swiped your key and turned the handle.

“Oh,” He muttered and snapped his fingers once.

“I’ve almost forgotten,” Joe called. He jogged back to your door and took your head into his hands. “I owe you.”

He pressed a gentle kiss into your lips. Then another. And another. Before you knew it, you were both nibbling on each others lips and swirling tongues into the other’s mouth. Which should have been raunchy and drunken and a huge mistake, but it didn’t feel like any of those things. He was so gentle and soft with you in a way that no other man had been before. Before you knew it, you were standing there: eyes blissfully closed and lips still slightly parted as Joe floated away from you.

“Good night, Mrs. Henderson,” he purred in that deep, chocolatey voice of his and walked back down the hall, disappearing into the elevator.

You stood there in front of your door for a good thirty seconds before coming back down from your high and slipping into your hotel room, dreaming of the next kiss Joe had in store for Mrs. Henderson. 

[modernmisadventures]

Chapter 2: Reactions

It took three locks to get into Cirdan and Varrus’s apartment. This was on top of the secured access, the doorman-cum-guard dog in the lobby, and the keycard required to take the elevator all the way up to their floor. For Cirdan, it was just another day - for Varrus, it was something of another matter. He wondered if he’d ever get used to it.

But tonight, his head was too full of questions - and a pair of large, brown eyes - for him to do more than feel a momentary anxiousness at the procedure. As soon as the door swung shut at their backs and they entered the well-appointed sitting room of their apartment, he pounced. “So, that girl. Who was she?”

Cirdan didn’t answer immediately, making his way through the seating towards the kitchen. He slipped inside and moments later Varrus could hear the refrigerator open. “Come in here while I see if there’s anything to eat,” called the Au Ra.

"You just downed two drinks and an entire plate of nachos and you're still hungry?" Varrus couldn't help but shake his head with a snort - gods knew that man had a bottomless appetite, for more than just food. All the same, he settled himself onto a stool at the island, but refused to let his friend off so easily. 

"You can talk and forage at the same time. So, what's the deal?"

“Ugh.” Cirdan bent down and stuck his head in the fridge, wondering for the thousandth time why he didn’t just get a side-by-side. “There’s shit all in here. I’m going to order in some Doman food. The usual?” Without waiting for the Elezen to respond, he slid his tomephone from his pocket and placed the order.

Varrus was almost certain he was stalling on purpose, and waited in impatient silence.

Finally, Cirdan tucked his phone in his pocket and sighed. “You heard her. Her name is Ciprys.” More silence, and he cursed. “We kind of grew up together. Her parents moved into our neighborhood when her mother was still pregnant, and I was about two. I don’t remember much, except my mother wasn’t very thrilled to have academic-types in her domain.” The Au Ra hardly had to explain more; though Varrus had never met his mother, he’d been treated to plenty of diatribes about her high-class - and high-maintenence - ways.

“Anyway,” he continued, slipping out of the kitchen and collapsing onto one of the overstuffed chairs, which creaked ominously beneath the weight of his plus-seven-feet frame, “her parents were also quite close to the Satrap of Radz-at-Han, so father couldn’t do anything about it without making more waves than he was willing to at the time. So they stayed, and mostly they stayed out of our way.”

He stared up the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts until Varrus pointedly cleared his throat. “I probably actually met her for the first time when she was six and I was eight. One of my father’s men was dressing me down; I’ve forgotten why, now.” He smiled. “It wasn’t important. It was summer, and hot, and I didn’t want to stand there on the sidewalk in front of her house getting chewed out because I’d done something any eight-year old would do. All of a sudden, she comes tearing out of the house, yelling at the man to stop being ‘such a bully’. You know how auri women are so tiny compared to the men?”

Varrus nodded.

“Well, they’re always that tiny. She’s six years old, all of three fulms nothing, and she comes tearing across her yard and plants herself right between me and… gods, I don’t even remember his name.” Cirdan’s smile is surprisingly tender, given his usually fierce demeanor. “And she proceeded to let him know how it’s not right to yell at a kid, and you shouldn’t pick on people smaller than you, and didn’t his mother raise him right to not throw a tantrum in public?

“The guy… Jaiko, I think - yeah. Jerky Jaiko. He drew himself up, affronted. I think he might have struck her, but I reached out and pulled her back, and if he’d hit her, he might have hit me. My father’s men, they could yell at me, especially if I was being stupid, but my father would have had their horns if they’d laid a hand on me.” Varrus wasn’t entirely certain that was simply a figure of speech. Cirdan had never exactly told him what he and his father did - but Varrus wasn’t entirely dense.

He just liked having plausible deniability.

Cirdan inhaled deeply. “Her mother comes streaking out of the house, pale with fear. I held up a hand to her - it was a gesture my father used all the time - and she stopped dead in her tracks. I very carefully told Jaiko that the little girl was right, that he was being rude, and that I expected to hear no more on this matter. It was the first time I’d ever stood up to one of my father’s men when they were picking on me. And damned if he didn’t turn as pale as Ciprys and draw himself up. ‘Yes, Master Cirdan’ he said - just as he often said to my father - and he turned and walked away.

“As he left, Ciprys pulled out of my hands,” Cirdan continued, his smile positively sloppy at this point, “turned around, and informed me that she was not ‘a little girl’. ‘I’m Ciprys Dreamweaver’, she said to me, very regally, ‘and you may thank me now.’. Gods,” he sighed. “She hasn’t changed a damn bit. Anyway. I thanked her, and she smiled and very politely told me I was welcome, then went to her mother, took her mother’s hand, and led her back into the house. We were fairly inseparable after that, for a very long time. Her parents hated it. My parents hated it. They learned very early on we didn’t give a damn and if they tried to keep us apart, we’d simply sneak out and meet up anyway. Then I had to go to Doma for a few years to serve in the Master’s household, and while I was gone, she went off to college. I figured that was the end of that. But she’s here,” he whispered. “And damned if I didn’t miss her.”

“So… Did you ever…?” Varrus let the word hang, his intent clear - it was evident just how much the woman meant to his friend. So much so that he couldn’t help if their reunion had been entirely coincidental. Cir had never spoken such words about any of his partners - and Varrus had had the misfortune of meeting a few in the early mornings after his buddy’s escapades, but they were always in and out, never the same each night; hells, he’d never even known any of their names, the rare occasions he did meet them. 

So to hear Cir speak so happily, candidly about this Ciprys woman… Well, it was clear she was special. Beyond special. 

Cirdan was quiet for a moment, mulling over the question. “No. No, we didn’t. She was sixteen when I left for Doma - and maybe she was willing, but I wasn’t. Not with her. I didn’t want - she wasn’t…” He trailed off, frowning, and this may have been the first time Varrus had ever seen him so uncertain. “I wasn’t going to do that to her - not when I was leaving and no idea when I’d be back, or what her life would be. So no. We never.” Then he smiled, slow and lazy. “But there’s always tomorrow, now that I know where she is.”

“You, with the same person, more than a single night? I’ll believe it when I see it,” Varrus snorted - though it was a bit of false bravado; there was little that would bring him more joy than seeing his best friend truly, truly happy with another.

Though he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the sounds that would be coming from the shared wall between their bedrooms. 

“Well, come on, loverboy.” He plopped down onto the seat opposite the Au Ra. “Food’s gonna be here soon; what say we get a few rounds in? Winner gets the third egg roll.” With a smirk, he tossed the second controller to Cir, knowing he’d absolutely just lost himself a bet - a shame, really. He loved those egg rolls. 

Unfortunately for him, so did Cir. And Cir had one advantage.

He cheats.

Ciprys didn’t quite slam the door shut behind her - but it was a near thing. Her mother’s voice was still ringing against her horns, but she blocked it out with the ease of long practice. It was all piss and wind; her mother had never had the fortitude to follow through on any of her threats. Not that Ciprys particularly tested that - she loved her mother and father, and she recognized that their overbearing nature came from anxiety about raising her so far away from kith and kin.

But she was twenty-one years old, by the gods, and she deserved to have her own damn life. 

“I need a job,” she said to the air. “I need to stop racking up degrees and just get a damn job with them.”

Her parents would be surprised to find out that rather than being a dilettante who had been in school for nearly four years now with nothing to show for it that she’d actually managed to scrape up two degrees and was on the verge of a third. Refusing to walk or be announced by the school had simply been one more way of taking control of her own life. And since her grades had been exceptional - as expected - the U had been more than willing to indulge her, even against two of their more valuable professors.

But she didn’t want a job. Not one that had her tied to a desk, or a bar, or a building. She wanted to travel, she wanted to see places she’d only heard of, meet people she’d never known existed. She wanted to experience the world first-hand… and she wanted to capture it, she mused as her roaming eye fell upon the camera tucked on her dresser, through a lens, then share it with the rest of the world.

And her parents would never go for it. Without a means of support, that dream was just a dream - she’d known that the moment she’d fallen in love with photography and made it her second degree. They’d never let her out of the city - and if they knew how far away she wanted to go, they’d never let her out of the house. And without a job, she’d never have the means to break those gilded chains.

It all circled back. And why, she wondered, was she thinking of this now?

Jess. Something had changed between the moment she’d walked into the bar tonight, and the moment she’d walked out. She’d already started growing fond of the bartender - and a bit envious of her freedom, her freedom to work, to live away from her parents, to have a life that hadn’t been decided before she was born.

And now there was that other woman - the other Au Ra. The teacher. Someone living the life her parents had imagined for her and happy with it. More than anything, that had made it all hit home: she didn’t want that. She didn’t want the same thing, day after day. She didn’t want the papers, the students, the responsibility.

She wanted to spread her wings.

And if she could just find a degree of independence, it wouldn’t matter what her parents thought of Cir-

No.

Five years. Why hadn’t he told her he was back? How long had he been back? He’d never said anything in the texts, the emails, the little gifts he’d sent anonymously.

Why?

With a grunt, she flung herself on her bed and brooded at the moon rising outside her window. And did her best not to dream a dream of turquoise eyes and wide, spreading wings.

“Can I walk you home?”

“The answer is still no,” Kal’istae replied evenly, ignoring Thancred’s soft sound of disappointment. “I appreciate the invite to the bar, though. I enjoyed meeting your sister.”

Doing his best not to sulk - and how was that even a thing? - Thancred strode along at her side, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Scamp? She’s one of a kind. Minfilia’s more reserved, and Ryne’s more like a daughter, but Jess is exactly the kind of younger sister I wanted growing up.” The affection in his voice was real and rich, and Kal’istae had no doubt in her mind that he meant every word.

Kal’istae let her eyes drift up towards the stars above them, nearly drowned out from the lights of the city. “Is that why you do it?”

“One reason, perhaps,” Thancred replied, only half of his mind on the conversation. “There’s a lot more to it than just filling in the gaps, of course, and it’s mostly for their sakes, not mine - but I’d be lying if I said I got nothing out of it.”

Kal’istae tried to ignore the prick of her conscience, the whisper of her unconscious that suggested that perhaps saying yes, just this once, wouldn’t hurt. She was not interested in leading him on. She liked their relationship exactly where it was - non-existent with a side of friendship.

So why did you go to the bar with him?

Gritting her teeth, she shoved the errant thought away. “Here is where we part ways,” she said instead, indicating the entrance to the underground. “I’ll see you around, Thancred.”

If by around you mean next Wednesday when he inevitably swings by your classroom during his weekly visit to the school.

Well, of course. If he didn’t, she’d probably be very disappointed. Worried, even. Except when he’d had to go out of town, he’d come by every Wednesday like clockwork…

As the thought trailed off, she stared at him as he waited, gazing at her with a puzzled expression.

Oh hells.

“Good night, Thancred,” she said, just a bit faintly. “I’ll see you… I’ll see you.”

His smile was slow, and just a little smug. “Good night, Kali,” he replied, backing away. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”

Yes. Yes he would. And she would be waiting.

Oh. Hells.

[nikkiruncks]

Rachel shouldn’t have been thinking about this, but it was all she could do. What did Phoebe mean when she said she 'had better'?

Takes place right after the end of The One With Rachel's Big Kiss

[amandabbbbb]

poor baby is fully talking to no one…. he needs me

[here-am-i-sitting-in-a-tin-can]

Professor McGonnagall: I am at a loss for words!

freeze frame, record scratch

Remus’ voiceover: Despite being at a loss for words, Professor McGonnagall proceeded to yell at us for the next 45 minutes.

[cinnudelx]

You Ready for Me? 🎀

pairing: steve rogers x reader

summary: literally just porn w/o plot for my needy readers <3

warnings: MINORS DNI! cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, missionary sex, cream pie, explicit language, tit!obsessed steve.

w.c: 1k

a.n: it’s been 2 days since i’ve flown out and i miss my bf sm guys help. also my request box is open if you’d like me to write a fic of your choice x

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

"oh—steve!" you moaned loudly, head thrown back, eyes rolling to the back of your head as steve buried his face between your thighs. his arms were hooked around your thighs, keeping them spread apart as he sucked and kissed your needy bud. your hands reached up, squeezing your tits as he abused your clit. his tongue worked expertly, flicking and lapping. "mmmh, baby, you're so good—oh!  you gasped as you felt him poke his finger at your hole.

"wan' me to stretch you out, hm?" he placed a hand over your abdomen, keeping you pressed down on the mattress as his mouth never left your pussy for even a second, feverishly sucking and flicking his tongue at your clit. "c'mon, baby. tell me how much you need it."

your moans were uncontrollable at this point, thankful for his hand keeping you down on your abdomen, otherwise you'd be squirming and writhing around. "f-fuck... god, yes. please—"

he smirked against your pussy, guiding two fingers into your hole at once. you fisted the sheets, throwing your head back again. he growled against your folds, continuing to lap at your clit while pumping his fingers in and out of you.

your thighs trembled around him, signalling your orgasm is near. "b-baby—oh fuck! i'm gonna cum—i'm gonna cum!" your fingers tangled in his hair as he quickened his movements, slamming his fingers into you as he hollowed his cheeks, sucking and flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue with fervour.

you finally came around his fingers with a loud, shaky moan, squirting into his mouth as soon as he pulled his digits away. he groaned deeply, slurping up your juices as the spilled out. whenever you squirted for him, he could swear he could just cum from the sight. you panted hard, your chest rising and falling before he kissed your fluttering folds.

he crawled up your body, meeting your lips in a hungry yet tender kiss. "god, i fucking love when you do that."

you moaned into his mouth, wrapping your legs around him as he ground his painfully hard cock against your pelvis. after a couple moments, he pulled away, getting off the bed and standing by the foot of the bed, hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling you to him.

biting your lip with a smirk, you trailed your foot down his abs (the gif above). he smirked back, grabbing your calf gently and placing your legs over his shoulders and placing kisses along your skin all whilst reaching down with his free hand, rubbing his thumb on your clit in circular motions.

he then pulled his hand away from your clit, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping it teasingly. he hissed at the contact, looking into your eyes before probing your entrance with the tip. "you're so hot, baby..." he murmured as he slowly pushed himself inside you, earning a gasp from both of you, followed by a moan.

"mmh... steve..." you bit your lip again, your brows tenting upwards with a desperate moan as he held your thighs against him. his own brows knitted together as he groaned, watching his cock bottom out into your aching hole, his heavy, full balls pressing against your ass.

"you ready f'me, hm?" he asked, biting back another groan as he circled your clit with his thumb again. you moaned under his touch, nodding before replacing his thumb with your fingers as you circled your bud. his lips parted as he pulled out slightly, leaving just the tip in before slamming right into you. he watched as your tits bounced at the movement, his grip on your thighs getting tighter as he started to move at an even pace with a groan that followed your own desperate and whiny moans.

he fucked into you nice and slow at first, rolling his hips into at a teasingly even pace. he hovered over you, hooking one thigh over his arm as his hips continued to slam into you. your moans escalated by the second as he grunted into your ear. the headboard of the bed slammed against the wall loudly, harmonising with your noises and the squelches of his cock drilling into your wetness.

"fuck, y/n..." he groaned, leaning his head down and taking one of your tits into his mouth, only adding to the pleasure that was already building. "squeezing my cock so good—gonna make me cum so fucking hard." he grunted, your nipple trapped between his teeth.

the sounds that came out of your mouth only increased, gasping and moaning uncontrollably as his pace increased the minute he buried his face in the crook of your neck, your thigh still wrapped over his arm.

"baby—baby, i'm so close, oh my god!" you breathed out shakily, moaning in between words as you threw your head back.

"fuck yeah... shit..." he grunted and groaned against your neck, biting at your skin. "gonna fill you up so good. cum for me baby—nghh—give it to me." he continued at an animalistic pace, his hips bruisingly slamming into yours.

your orgasm hit you like a freight train, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let out a guttural moan, followed by your whole body shaking and your pussy clenching around him. steve's brows knitted together, doubling over you with a loud groan as he let go. he grunted as his cock twitched inside you, spilling all of his cum.

as the two of your panted, he kissed your neck softly before kissing you. his lips moved against yours softly and passionately before he pulled away, sitting back on his heels and watching as he slipped his cock out. he let out a growl at the way his cum dribbled out of your cunt and staining the bedsheets. he wasted no time, using his thumb to push his seed back into your hole. "so good..." he sighed contently, still panting as he caught his breath.

you smirked, your index finger caught between your teeth. he noticed your expression, a smirk growing on his face, "you liked that, didn't you?"

nodding, your smirk widened.

he chuckled deeply, hovering over you again to pepper kisses all over your face. "guess i'm not pulling out anymore."

[with-my-calamitous-love]

i see so many chuuya fics where he’s a player/a womanizer. and while those are all fun and beautifully written, i just have this gut feeling that chuuya is loyal as hell.

this is the guy that jumped off a helicopter and fought a literal dragon for a man he claims he doesn’t even like. imagine what he’d do for someone he loves, someone he has yet to lose and is terrified of losing.

all he wants to do is love you. he’s protective, but not possessive by any means. his time in the mafia has made him so aware of everything that could possibly harm you. even if its a 5 minute walk back to your place, he’ll drive you. if you’re out at a bar, he’ll hold your drink and/or keep an eye on all the other guys around you. he’s always practicing the sidewalk rule, always giving you his coat, and always reminding you that he would do anything and everything for you.

he knows that you’re a point of interest for enemy organizations. that because your his s/o, you’re a target for ransom or worse as a means to get back at him. and because of that, he’s constantly worrying. if even something feels off, he’ll call you, if not rushing to be by your side. you have to remind him that you aren’t made of glass.

oh, and god forbid you are actually taken captive. the world will see a side of him that he luckily keeps hidden.

[babygorewhore]

•Motives are incidental•

Your obsession with the Ghostface killer is almost as strong as your crush on Rafe Cameron. But your careless disregard for safety gets you into trouble one night.

Warnings! Ghostface!Rafe! Dub con! Primal! Praise! Degrading! Breeding kink! Unprotected sex! Knife play! Carving! Blood! Hints of stalking at the end! W.C less than 1.5K

Requested by my baby girl @sturnioloshacker I hope you enjoy, mama ;)

Being obsessed with the outer banks killer was stupid. You knew that. It was especially idiotic how you spent hours online studying victims, movie comparisons and possible motives behind these murders. It wasn’t that you were glamorizing crimes. It was more about wanting to protect yourself.

And your crush. Rafe Cameron.

You were head over heels with the successful businessman. You were a little younger than him but you shared a brief time in college together before he graduated. He was…decent to you at best. Rafe didn’t speak to you a lot. Mostly a passing hello or a head nod if he was speed walking to his next class.

It was embarrassing. The way you pined over him pathetically in your bedroom at night. Scrolling your phone and stalking his social media. Driving past the building he worked on your way to your own job.

The Ghostface killer distracted you briefly during the day from your crush. The nickname was released to the media last week as your frantic parents warned you about staying out at night or walking alone over the phone.

You came home and showered after your shift at the restaurant. A close friend of yours invited you to a party. It wasn’t something you did often, usually remaining here and indulging in your studies. But she begged you to take a night away from your personal investigation.

The party was fine. Nothing spectacular as you clicked your shoes together and waited for an Uber home. The nighttime sky loitered with stars winked above you. You didn’t fit in at the gathering away. With your pink ribbon laced boots. Dark clothes and your heart not in it.

You pulled out your phone, unable to help yourself and checked Rafe’s instagram story. He posted a picture of his work desk. His long thick fingers on the keyboard and you bit your lip. You wished you could feel his hand on your skin.

The Uber was ten minutes away when you felt the hairs on your neck raise.

You jerked your head around, swearing you felt someone watching you but all you saw were bushes moving around. Frowning, you stepped forward closer to the road. You were still close enough to civilization if you made a run for it or at worst, screamed for help.

A crunch sounded behind you and you whipped around. Your eyes were wide as you searched for any sign of someone near you. “If you’re out there, come out now.” You commanded and tried not to give away fear.

You didn’t see anything but you knew someone was there. Every single thing you knew about horror movies fueled you to start moving towards the house you came from. The faster you walked, the closer the sounds crept.

You started jogging but you felt a hand graze your back. You shrieked and kept going. Then you heard a laugh. A deep, slightly altered voice following you.

“You should know…I love it when they run.”

Oh fuck. You feel an arm wrap around your waist, lifting you into the air and you kick your legs in protest. “No!” You look down to see a black sleeve holding your torso in a vice grip.

You crane your head to see a white mask. An all too familiar sight. It was Ghostface. Whoever it was, his tall and strong body dragged you away from the yard with ease. Despite your efforts to get away. A red light flashed underneath the mask. You were the next victim. That’s what you get for being too careless with safety.

You drive your elbow into his stomach and he grunts. Easing his arm around your waist, you take the opportunity to throw your head back and headbutt him like a soccer player.

“Fuck!” He yells but he doesn’t stop. He pushes you to the ground, your limbs sprawl and you’re looking up at the famous killer. His mask is crooked, robe slightly shifted from your fight but he presses his boot against your chest.

“Stay. Still.” He grounds out, disguised voice in a growl. You claw at his shoe but he only applies more pressure and you wince.

“Oh? Still not giving up huh?” He taunts and leans down, pulling out a long hunters knife. You tremble as he traces it along your cheek, jaw and finally settles it against your throat.

“What if…I make you a deal?” Ghostface hovers above your face, the nose of the mask nudging against your hairline. “I won’t kill you…if you play a little game with me.”

You seize the opportunity and rip the mask off. All the blood drains from your face as you stare into the eyes of the last man you expected to see.

Rafe Cameron.

His stormy blue eyes bore into yours as an unreadable expression crosses his features. Rafe’s knee shifts and cages you in. Instead of lashing out, he gives you a sly, evil smirk. “Mama’s a fighter. Love to see it. Deal still stands. I won’t kill you. If you agree to my terms of the game.”

You nod rapidly and Rafe grins. He removes the knife from your neck but aims it at your heart. “You run. I catch you. And you let me carve something into that pretty skin of yours. I want everyone to see exactly who you belong to.”

Tears rush to your eyes as his gaze lingers on your mouth. “You’ll let me go if I say yes?” You whimper and he nods.

“Yes, princess. I’m a man of my word. You have…ten seconds. Starting now.” He pulls up and you scramble to your feet.

It was sick the way your pussy dampened as you made a run for it. You heaved out a breath as you opened your mouth to let out a scream for help but Rafe’s gloved hand covered your lips.

“If only you could see how pretty you look.” He whispered in your ear. Rafe tossed you back on the ground, ripping off your pants. He groans thickly at the sight of your soaked underwear.

“That’s it, Angel. You’re so wet for me. Such a good slut, huh?” You freeze as he flips the knife between his fingers, you hadn’t noticed him removing his gloves.

“Are you going to be a good girl and take my dick?” He questions and you whine as Rafe taps the knife against your pussy.

“I asked you a fucking question, mama. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Yes! I’m gonna be a good girl.” Your bottom lip quivers in anticipation as he peels off your sticky panties, shoving them into his pocket. He tilts his head in admiration as he separates your cunt with two thick fingers.

You gasped as he kicks off his pants underneath the robe, his thick cock slapping against his thigh and your mouth waters. “Please…fuck me…” All your fear morphs into overwhelming arousal as Rafe slams into you.

You shout, clawing at his back as he thrusts into you. Rafe moans as he fucks you to the brim, your brain turning off as you forget you’re having sex with a serial killer. You’re fucking a long time crush. He reaches down and massages your clit with his thumb as you squelch and squeeze his dick. You let silent groans of pleasure as he pulls out only to shove back into your cunt.

It was perverted. Anyone could pass by and see him fucking you but you didn’t care.

Rafe latched his lips to your neck, sucking harshly enough to leave marks as he nipped and bit your skin. You mewled and spread your legs wider as he peppered kisses to soothe the pain.

“That’s my good girl. You’re my little whore. Letting me split you in half. Fuck, you’re so tight. Gonna breed this pretty pussy.” He promises and you throw your head back as your belly uncoils. You cum all over his cock, the sticky fluid giving him more lube as he follows suit. Emptying his seed into you.

“God damn, mama. Knew you were into me but Jesus. Letting a masked killer fuck you like this? You’re even more of a slut than I thought.” His degrading words harmonize with your cries as Rafe pulls out.

He grabs the blade, digging the tip into your plush thigh. You wince at the sting but only watch in a daze as he carves, “Owned by R.C.” He removes the knife, bringing it to his mouth and he licks it off.

Rafe pulls out his phone, the camera flashing and he pulls up your pants once he finishes. “You’re gonna go home now, princess. Leave that window unlocked. I’m not fucking done with you. I want you to prove exactly how obsessed you are with me.”

Tagging a few moots. @marchsfreakshow @xxbimbobunnyxx @starkeysprincess @oceandriveab @oceanblvd111 @redhead1180 @rafescurtainbangz @drudyslut @gri959 @nemesyaaa @rafesthroatbaby @rafeinterlude @loserboysandlithium @usergeta @annoyingassleo

[starbase777]

When you have the desire to write four paragraphs of deep lore about your OC's history including a fine combination of angst and character progression but have no energy to do it

[a-aexotic]

HEYYYY! So like every other mf on the planet right now I am in my hunger games era!!

Please could you write a Finnick x Reader where she is selected for the quarter quell (Maybe in her games she was lethal and killed like 10+ people?)

And when Katniss shoots the arena in catching fire she gets taken by the capitol (Like Peeta) and they torture her and shit? Then Finnick and her get there reunion she’s all like battered and bruided and it’s dead sad? Not sure if this made sense because i’m half asleep and dyselxic but let me know😭🤣

Maybe he says ���It’s okay baby i got you” ??? x

hey of course i can! i hope u enjoy it babe <3 its a tiny bit long! my apologizes

cw's: angst, mentions of killing/dying, typical thg stuff, torture, ptsd, lmk if i missed anything

You were one of the youngest victors alongside Finnick, being only 15 and having won your games. You were also from District 4. You won the 68th Hunger Games, a few years after Finnick.

When you were reaped, Finnick and Mags were your mentors. Finnick came off as self absorbed and arrogant but once you started talking to him, the more you realized that was total bullshit. He wasn't how the Capitol portrayed him, he was much more caring and compassionate. He was very sympathetic to your situation, having gone through the same things.

During your time in the arena, you were one of the most ruthless tributes of all time. In the beginning, you were easily overlooked. The tributes weren't thinking that you were going to be much of a challenge because of your size and the way you carried yourself.

But that was exactly how you wanted to be portrayed. You tricked the Careers into thinking you were some naïve little girl, stabbing them in the back (literally) the first chance you got. The Capitol loved the turn of events, cheering you on.

When you had come back home, you had finally understood the intensity of what you had done. You had killed a whole group of people, ending their lives permanently. Those people had lives and family who loved them, and now they're gone because of you.

You suffered through months and months from never ending nightmares. Even getting consoled by your mother didn't help anymore; she doesn't understand. You didn't even feel worthy of food anymore.

You closed off Mags and Finnick when you had come home, driving yourself into isolation and depression. You rarely went out anymore, eating one meal a day and slept more than 80% of the day. Even sleeping couldn't mend the eternal tiredness you had, the void that filled your body.

Finnick had felt more than responsible for your pain. He gave you time before he realized he was just adding to your pain. Even when you didn't communicate back to him, Finnick visited you every day. He gave you advice and told you what he had went through after the Games as well. Eventually you opened up more to Finnick, and slowly, he had become your best friend.

He had told you that numbing it wasn't going to make it go away. He reminded you that you had him and Mags to help you with this process, and that you weren't alone despite of how you felt.

He helped you regain your sense of purpose again, your self image again. Finnick had singlehandedly helped you rebuilt your sense of self again.

He saw a part of you in him, that scared 14 year old boy who was trying to go back home to his parents. He never wanted anyone to feel that, especially you.

He promised you that he would never let anything bad ever happen to you again.

During your Victor's tour, Snow had suddenly deemed you desirable by the Capitol, wanting to sell you as he did with Finnick. Finnick couldn't risk getting involved, wanting to protect his family.

Every night in the Capitol, you were always consoled by Finnick. Every time you had to do a favor, you remember walking to Finnick's room to sleep, not baring the thought of having to sleep alone in the cold bed. He was always there, holding your hand comfortingly as you both slept.

The Capitol adored you both, nicknaming you the princess and prince of Panem. The more time you spent with Finnick, the more the media had speculated a relationship between the young victors.

You and Finnick had connected in many ways. Both having the same trauma, it was easy to talk to him and for him to understand how hard it was.

You and Finnick eventually got together a few years later, then getting married (in secret, of course) almost right after. You were both deeply in love.

Finnick found solace in the thought of always having you by his side, remembering that no one could tear you apart. That was until the Quarter Quell was announced.

You and Finnick were sitting at the edge of the couch, listening to Caesar's words carefully as he explained that this year's Hunger Games was going to be very different.

When it was announced that there will be only be Victors in this year's games, you heard dropped. You looked over at Finnick and he shared the same terrified look on his face.

--

When Annie's name had been called, you without any second thought, put up your hand. "I volunteer as tribute."

The crowd gasped and you looked over at Annie and you could tell she was a bit relived but still scared nonetheless. You immediately embraced her tightly, letting her let out a small sob. "It's okay, you're okay."

Mags looked just as terrified and you took her hand. When Finnick's name was called, you felt your stomach drop. Not only were you back in the arena, but you were with Finnick.

You looked over at Finnick and he looked prepared to fight. You both stood up and he grabbed your hand, raising it up in union.

The trainride to the Capitol was pretty uneventful. Finnick had wanted some time to think about the plan and so did you. A part of you knew what he was planning; he kill everyone else in the arena and then eventually himself, all for you.

As you sat on the bed, you felt the sadness and anger turn into numbness. No amount of crying was going to stop the Quater Quell and you had to be smart.

You didn't want to survive without Finnick. You were either winning with him or dying with him. Life would be meaningless without him.

Finnick knocked on your door slightly, before walking in. You looked up at him and he gave you a small smile. He took a seat next to and took your hand.

"I have a plan."

"Finnick, I know what you're thinking, and no. You're not killing yourself for me."

Finnick looked defeated. "One of us has to survive, Y/N. For Annie. For Mags."

You look a deep inhale, looking away from Finnick. "I don't want to life without you, everything would lose all it's meaning without you."

Finnick felt his heart burst into two pieces as he squeezed your hand. You felt your eyes watering again and you couldn't help but let out another quiet cry as Finnick pulled your head in, as he embraced you tightly.

"Shh, it's okay. I promise, I won't... I won't leave you."

--

It had all happened so fast, you couldn't even comprehend what had just happened. One moment, you were with Finnick trying to find Johanna and Katniss and suddenly there was big loud boom. You were relieved for a moment; Plutarch's plan had worked. Until you realized how far away you were from the others.

You were wandering, trying to find anyone until you heard people behind you. You turned and then you saw some unfamiliar faces; suddenly, your vision went black.

Then, you woke up in a white room. You felt like your stomach had dropped out of your body once the realization hit you; the Capitol captured you.

You were strapped down to a bed and you couldn't move or shake it off. The severity of the situation had hit you; even if by some miracle you did escape, where would you go? How would you find your way to 13 and back to Finnick?

You knew how ruthless the Capitol was to everyone who disobeyed them. Your worst fears had come true and there was no getting out of here.

You heard the door open and you saw some Peacekeepers come in and then you saw the person you dreaded to see most; Snow. You felt like your whole had come crashing down, how could this nightmare become any worse?

"Hello, Y/N."

You didn't respond, resorting to stare at the wall in front of you instead.

He tutted disappointedly. "Out of all the tributes, you were the one I expected least to be involved in this mess. You are the Princess of Panem... What a shame."

You still hadn't replied and you hadn't dared to look at Snow. Months and months you spent trying to heal the trauma he had caused you, you were sure if you had to look at him now, you would break.

"I want to take mercy on you, dear Y/N. If you tell me everything you know about the rebellion, I will make sure the Peacekeepers are gentle with you."

You shook your head. "No."

He let out a small chuckle. "Sorry, I couldn't hear you. What?"

"No." You said again, louder.

He hummed in disapproval. "Okay then, you leave me no choice. You are going to regret this."

He nodded to the Peacekeepers and walked out of the room. You were then met with Peacekeepers, loosening the straps then taking you to another room.

If Snow knew one thing about you, it was that being only physical with you wouldn't hurt you enough. He had to hit you were it hurt most.

They threw you in the seemingly vacant room and immediately locking it. You were confused until you heard it.

"Y/N, help me!" Finnick's voice screamed. "Please, help me! Get up and do something, they're killing me! Please."

You looked everywhere in the dark room, trying to find the source. It kept going.

"Y/N, please! Help! What the hell are you doing, just sitting there? You are such a disappointment!" The voice started shouting. "We should've just left you to died in the arena! You are useless!"

Now this was something new. Your body was filled with panic and fear and even though you knew it was fake, you felt like you were going to throw up from all the noise.

Suddenly, Annie's voice came in as well. Then Johanna's. Then your mother's. There was nonstop noise filled with screams for help, shouting with disapproving messages. Your body couldn't handle it; it was so overwhelmed with fear that you started shaking on the ground, putting your hands on your ears but that did little to nothing.

You wanted it to stop. It was too much, you were trembling. It felt like days, just sitting there in that room listening to all those demeaning voices of your loved ones. You couldn't even think straight anymore.

It was so bad you had started to pound your head on the ground, screaming and crying. You had have enough. And then, it all stopped. Silence was foreign for you; your ears were ringing.

You were sitting on the ground, almost lifeless as the Peacekeepers took you away. Your eyes hurt from the tears, your body sore, your ears ringing and your head was pounding.

But you knew that was just the beginning.

--

You were asleep in bed and you were awakened by the door opening, you instantly jolted up. You looked over to see a group of masked men in front of you and you had started to tremble again, silent tears rolling down your face, thinking that the Peacekeepers had come again.

"No, no, no." You started to mumble to yourself.

A man came up to your and took your bruised hand slowly, rubbing it gently in silent empathy. That was the first soft touch you'd felt in a few weeks and it almost stung.

"It's okay, you're safe now. You're going to 13 now."

You had to blink a couple times, trying to process what he said. Was this a dream? You went to pinch yourself but it was real life.

He then helped you up but you couldn't help but stumble; your legs were weak, you couldn't remember the last time the Peacekeepers let you walk for this long.

As you got into the hovercraft, you saw Annie. Your eyes widened as you both ran up to each other, embracing each other. She had started to cry a little bit and so did you.

That was when it hit you. You were going to see Finnick. You were going home. You started crying into Annie's shoulder as she held you. "We're safe now, we're safe."

You had seen Johanna as well but she didn't seem too responsive. Neither did Peeta. You fell asleep on Annie's shoulder on the ride back and for the first time, you actually felt yourself drifting off calmly.

--

There were lots of doctors and nurses looking at you and asking you all sorts of questions and you tried your best to answer them. You were still in shock; you were safe. They couldn't hurt you anymore.

"Y/N?" You turned around to see Finnick. You immediately got up from the examiner's table and ran into his arms, your eyes starting to water up again.

"Finnick," you sighed slowly. You pulled away, putting your hands on his face and touched him as if he wasn't real.

"Are you.. Are you really here?"

"Yes, I'm really here." Finnick looked at you and suddenly his voice transported you back into the dark room. You quickly twisted out of his embrace and his expression changed.

His voice was back and you heard all of the nasty things he had to you. You back away, stumbling into the examiner's table and your breathing became heavy. "No, no, no, please-please go away. No."

You slid down to the floor and you closed your eyes, putting your hands on your ears and rocking back and forth trying to get that voice to stop.

Finnick ran up to you and put his hands on your knees, trying to get you to look at him. His heart broke in half; he didn't know what the Capitol had done to you but now he knows it has something to do with him.

Of course the Capitol would try to ruin him. His eyes started to tear up at the sight of you, in so much pain and panic.

You opened your eyes, Finnick in front of you. You started to cry some more before Finnick slowly went up to you, wrapping his arms around you.

When he had started wrapping your arms around you, your instinct was to push him away but his warmth was welcoming and safe and you started to focus on his touch. The voices slowly drifted away, the sounds of your silent sobs only being heard.

You then gave into Finnick's touch, falling into him and putting your head in his chest as he caressed your back gently, shushing you.

"It's okay baby, I got you. You're safe now, they can't hurt you."

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Rockstar Girlfriend

Older!Damian Wayne x fem!Reader

wc: 3.7 K summary: You're Damian's girlfriend, and his family wants to visit your concert warnings: none, no y/n used, established relationship a/n: I often daydream about this scnenario, so here you go. divider from @super-marvel-dc , just the stuff I needed ! enjoy

Tuning your guitar does get on your nerves on tours, especially right before you need to go on stage and the E-string seems to snap any moment. Your earpiece counts the few last beats down before the lights go off and you have to be on stage, finally getting the guitar tuned for the show. The supporting band got off stage a few mintues ago, hyping you and your bandmates up for the show, since you are the main act. This band is the most sweetest you‘ve ever met, even when they play a little softer music than you.

Just in time, you get to your mic stand and can only see some flashlights from phones in the crowd before you and your band play the first chord of the opening song. Ear-deafening shouts and cheers errupt from the crowd, having to focus on staying in the rythm, also to begin singing on the right time.

The lightshow of the stage gives the crowd an even more beautiful and energetic view, most of them singing along the first words of the song while some record with their phones. It seems like you‘re singing to a see of people, not able to recognise this many faces or even identify some with the lights flickering to the beat of the music, having to focus on multiple things at the same time anyway. But one thing is that you are sure of. It‘s that your boyfriend should be here, most likely somewhere in the front rows. As you continue to play and sing, you‘re intently watching the crowd on the first rows, trying to make out where he is. It is nearly impossible though, the lightshow making it less possible to actually recognise anyone from the stage.

You give up after a moment and focus on performing, jumping around lightly at the parts where you don‘t need to sing and can have fun. It seems like the viewers also have a lot of fun with your music, seeing some mosh-pits form further in the back and middle. You had trouble believing it at first when you saw people file out of the hall with your first few concerts, that there are some rowdy and elder people who enjoy your music. They‘re probably the same ones in the pit right now. Good thing Damian is probably at the front, he would‘ve seriously injured people on accident.

Your band is two songs in, but the set list still has twenty songs left, promising for a long night. Damian is indeed by the front rows, standing among other hardcore fans who seem too desperate for his taste. But who is he to judge, he tries to make it to every concert you guys announce and play near by. Always getting some kind of merch by the merch stands before the show, small stickers or patches, you name it; he has it.

During a more heavy song, you engange with the crowd as usual, telling them to part the crowd for the up-coming breakdown. Of course, the crowd does a good job at that, some people in the front and back just watching the show and crowd while the band continues to play.

The breakdown, the most heaviest part of the song, start playing and the people create a ‚Wall of Death‘, it looking satisfying from your view. Your bassist does most of the screaming vocals on the extra mic stand, getting to play the thrilling chords on your guitar while watching the crowd have fun.

Finally, you meet eyes with Damian. He grins proudly, wearing a shirt with your band logo on it. He gives you a thumbs up, seemingly proud and happy to support you on one of your bigger perfomances. Normally, you play at smaller stages, but the support band and your new support and love from fans made this possible to happen. It‘s a sight to see, knowing all these people like the stuff you‘re creating for your own enjoyment and actively support your band because they want more of your music.

You‘re halfway through your setlist now, not being nervous at all now as you get used to the feeling fairly quickly. It‘s always during the middle of the set when it is time for a small break, getting to drink some water while engaging with the crowd and entertaining them. And who would your bandmates be if they wouldn‘t mess around with the other mic while you talk, making the crowd laugh and record the interaction with your band. After the joksters finally lock in, it‘s time to perform the last half of the set list. The crowd really does give their best on having fun, never having seen so many mosh pits in one of your concerts before.

The show comes to an end, being sweaty and worn out after the perfomance but you can‘t leave without throwing some guitar picks and drumming sticks to the crowd, a lot of them being happy over it and catching them.

Lastly, you could finally leave for the backstage and into your private room to get unready and settle down into your own respective homes.

»Was your lovey-dovey boyfriend here again?« Your drummer asks while drying his hair off with a towel, always talking about your boyfriend as if he would take him from you. In a friendly, funny way, of course.

»Yeah, somewhere in the front row. Why?«

You answer back while taking off your make up in front of a mirror, glancing behind your shoulder at him.

»I just saw him too. Seemed like he was wearing our merch!«

He tells you excitedly with a big grin, making sure to get his hair dry from his sweat.

»Yeah, he definitely wore our merch.« You nod back as your face is bare again, walking over to your bag at the couch. Your bandmates seem to giggle and mostly joke a bit around with how cheesy your boyfriend is, being used to their shenanigans by now. You settle down on the couch for a moment, your feet and legs aching from standing and performing for almost an hour tonight, having been preparing and helping the technicians with setting up the lightshow and stage this afternoon, since you feel bad for them doing all this for your band.

Eventually, you make your way outside of the arena to meet your boyfriend, having your bag over your shoulder while the staff is taking care of the rest. He is standing by the back door, right where you walked out of, greeting him with a tight hug.

»God, I‘m sweaty, I probably stink so bad...«

Damian doesn‘t even budge and keeps you in his arms, a soft expression on his face.

»So what? You were amazing up there. As always.«

He shrugs and doesn‘t seem to want to let go of you yet, swaying together from side to side which makes you both smile at the other.

Damian walks you home, ending up carrying you once you mention about your feet hurting. There‘s something deeply affectionate in the way he holds and carries you in his arms, not leaving room for any arguments about it.

The night ends with him dropping you off by your home, exchanging some fleeting kisses before he is forced to leave for patrol with the others.

----

The Wayne Mane, 11:26 PM

»Are you not going to explain why you‘re late this time?« Bruce gruff voice calls out once Damian joins the rest on the rooftop, changed in his suit and ready to patrol finally.

»He was at his girlfriends concert. They had a show nearby today.« Tim snitches, making it short but also making Damian glare at him even harder.

»Is that true?«

His father questions again and awaits his answer, receiving a nod as Damian looks at him finally.

»Yes, I was at her show. Bought a shirt.«

Batman simply sighs out but doesn‘t seem annoyed by it for more than five seconds.

»Where was it this time?« He asks with rather more curiousity, making Damian state the name of the city, having driven back by train with you together to drop you off safely.

The conversation doesn‘t last long as they begin to patrol, Damian having a bit of trouble hearing at first, still used to the loud music from earlier. The patrol ends up being as usual, no serious troubles.

----

Next morning at the Manor seems to be chaotic once again, some voices coming from the kitchen while Bruce is sipping on a cup of coffee with a newsletter in hand.

»Why can‘t we ever join when you‘re going out with her? She‘s so nice and fun to talk to, it‘s unfair!«

Dick complains from the kitchen as he prepares some toast for himself, Damian sitting by the kitchen island with a cup of tea in hand.

»If you wouldn‘t try to disturb their dates, maybe he would have her come over more frequently.«

Tim counters as he is at the kitchen island as well, working at his laptop. The eldest son groans dramatically, defending himself from the obvious truth.

»I‘m not trying to disturb them, just trying to talk and see how it‘s going...«

»Definitely invading their privacy.«

It seems like Dick still wants to spend more time all together with you and the family, but it‘s clear that you don‘t have much time now with your small tour going on and them being vigilantes.

»I would also like to see her more often, but you‘ve got to understand she has her own duties, just like us.«

Alfred chimes in as he walks into the kitchen, preparing more tea as he talks. The discussion is interrupted as Bruce finally walks in, interrupting the complains of Dick and mean comments from Damian.

»Why don‘t we visit one of her concerts? We‘ve never been to one before.«

It is really bizarre for him to suggest something like this, especially since he seems to need to work a lot lately. Maybe he has finally gone mad?

At the silence he receives, he continues, seeing the bewildered looks from his children.

»I‘m simply saying we never saw her perform. It can‘t be that bad, can it?«

Cass, who just happens to stand by the door studies the others, not being against it herself. She raises her hand with a nod, seemingly agreeing with the idea. Damian notices, and the rest does as well, making Jason speak up finally.

»She does rock and metal, right?«

»Yes, but — «

Damian really doesn‘t want the rest to tag along to the next concert you give in town, knowing it will mostly be embarrassing and they will probably get spotted more easily by reporters or simple fans.

But before he could finish his sentence, everyone raises their hand lightly, even Alfred being okay with the idea.

»Are you kidding me?« He sighs out, being clearly overpowered as the plan is settled.

The Wayne‘s will be at your next concert.

----

Your bandmates almost freak out once you tell them the news, Damian having called you and sheepishly admitted it, claiming it‘s his fault. Clearly, no one is upset. Actually, everyone seems to be freaking out for all the good reasons.

Now it‘s time to prepare for the show this evening, mostly texting with Damian and finally getting to prepare after getting teased by your bandmates once more.

You watch people arrive by the parking lot, seeing how many people already are inside in the arena with some drinks in hand, the show beginning in about half an hour. But you can‘t watch for much longer, getting dragged to the backstage to tune your guitar and warm up for the show. The supporting band plays first just like before, hyping each other up again.

"Are you there already? Please warn them about the supporting band, don't want them to get confused."

You text to Damian, hoping they are at least in the parking lot already and ready to watch the show.

"We got here an hour ago, saved some seats. I'll tell them about it."

He responds back fairly quickly, making you assume they're in the front row if they got in so early. Time goes by and the show starts, the support band starting their 45 minutes set before you come on stage and play your own set list.

As the other times, the band starts with more softer songs, getting progressively more heavy, but still not as heavy as your songs. Bruce stays standing beside Damian, not used to rock shows, but he clearly respects it and is just here out of curiousity and wants to support his 'almost-daughter-in-law' in some way. Dick seems to enjoy himself, even when this isn't his usual type of music. He is mostly fascinated by the enthusiastic crowd and how popular your band seems to be, even when you're about nineteen by now. Perks of starting young, he guesses.

Jason seems to be rather unimpressed by the show, claiming he expected some heavier stuff. But this is just the supporting band anyway, so Damian doesn't mind arguing over the loud music. Cass and Tim simply watch, them both having informend themselves before joining the show tonight. But they do seem to be rather amused by some fans. The flashing lights from the lightshow seems to amaze Cass the most though, being almost captivated by how pretty the lights shine and work on stage.

Eventually, the band goes off stage, meeting your band backstage and tells you all about the Wayne family being there, having forgotten to tell them earlier about it.

Now that it's your turn to perform, you feel more nervous than at other times. Usually, you get nervous just before the show, but it fades once you get to play the first few chords and riffs, the cheering form the crowd spurring you on even more.

This time it's different and the bassist seems to notice of it. She walks up to you, trying to hype you up and give you some motivational words, but they do little to calm your nerves down. It's too late anyway, being called up on stage by the staff. You quickly hop on stage with the rest, lights being turned off and the anticiaption rises. Your heartbeat quickens in your chest, hearing the happy crowd even with your earpiece on. The first song starts to play, strumming the intro on your guitar while doing your best to focus on getting the notes right and not play too fast.

The lights turn back on once you start to sing, as usual confident and smooth. In the back of your head you are still thinking about Damians whole family being here, not able to ignore the heart pounding heavily in your ears while you perform. You curse yourself inwardly for still being nervy, hating how new this feels, even though it's nothing new at all.

Continuing with the show, the song progresses into more heavy riffs and up beat tempo, getting a rich mix of an energetic and hearty sound. You get a smooth transition onto the next song, pushing through your slight nervousness to perform the second song with even more passion. As there are less singing parts, you get to jump around the stage a little and let go of the skittish energy inside you. From another perspective, it just looks like you're having fun.

Jason seems more impressed now, furrowing his brows lightly as he bops his head along the music lightly. Dick seems to completely lose it though, jumping with the other fans along and getting lost in the crowd eventually. Bruce stays stoic, focussing his eyes on you as he watches how you perform. You seem more alive and vibrant on stage, never having really seen you this bouncy before. Often times, when you came over, you seemed to be just a little shy but very polite. Here, you still seem to be a good soul, but a lot less shy. And that in front of probably over six hundered people.

Playing and performing the songs seem to get easier with time, not able to focus your eyes on specific people in the crowd, but it's probably better this way. Finally, you reach the half of the set list, not being nervous or anxiuos anymore. Well, you are a bit nervous since your bandmates promised to not do any embarressing stuff on stage, not entirely trusting them though.

As soon as you had a few gulps of water, you get back on your spot in the middle of the stage, hand resting on your hip while the other holds you guitar by neck for the meantime. It's time to entertain the crowd.

»A round of applause for our vocalist and her breathtaking perfomance!«

Of course, your bassist said something before you with his own extra mic stand. Nevertheless, the crowd fires up the atmosphere, getting loud shouts and cheers from them. Cass has to put her hands over her ears from how loud it is, all the while Damian smirks proudly and claps cheerfully.

»Thank you! Did you have to embarrass me?« You finally speak into your own mic as you turn to face Marcus, the bassist, earning a few chuckles from the large crowd.

Meanwhile, Jason has to physically hold Dick back from screaming something along the lines of 'We love you!' and 'You're my favourite band!' to you and fluster you more.

»Okay, ignore these goofballs for now. I need you all to part the sea for the next song. Shit's about to get heavy.« You have actually forgotten that Damian's whole family is here, realising only a moment later and immediately search for them in the crowd. You spot them being located more by the right side of the crowd, but still fairly in the middle and at the front row. Dick waves at you, earning a sheepish smile from you before focussing back on the show.

The lights turn off again, getting a countdown and metronome in your earpiece once more as the large crowd does their work and parts into two. Bruce is very confused, not getting what's about to happen. While it's not too loud he decides to ask.

»What's this about, Damian?« He only receives a sly smile from his youngest son, hoping he gets an answer.

»Are you ready for a Wall of Death?« You exclaim through the mic, earning many cheers and shouts back. But you aren't satisfied and ask again, getting an even louder response. Now Bruce knows what it's called but he has absolute zero idea what's about to happen.

Jason knows though and makes sure Cass is not in the way, not wanting to see dead bodies. The lights switch to red as usual, matching the rythm of your song again while the fans wait for the breakdown to drop. The bassist, Marcus, does most of the singing — or vocal screaming — in the song, leaving you to jump around and play some nasty riffs.

The parted crowd immediatly rushes at eachother, the Wall of death happening. Bruce watches with light fascination, not keeping his eye off the people as if to make sure nothing goes wrong. Your band goes on though, the songs playing easily and with passion as the show goes on.

Jason seems to enjoy it more himself, headbanging more to the music while he watches you perform, and for once doesn't regret going out with his family. As for the rest of the family... they aren't into this type of music, but stay until the end anyway and mostly take pride on watching you perform the songs out with your band on stage. ----

Going off stage after throwing some guitar picks and drumming sticks into the crowd, you feel exhausted again. Feet hurting, fingers and wrists needing some stretching and your shoulders ache lightly from the strap of the guitar. Your voice is needs a break for tonight as well. But ignoring that, you take your sweaty make up off and go about the same routine as usual, before you can take a proper shower back at home. Oh, right. You're sleeping over by Damians house this time.

Walking out of the building, you see the Bat family waiting by their limousine for you. Damian approaches you once he sees you, pulling you into a hug before he kisses your cheek.

»You did great. As always.« He tells you as every night, it still sounding genuine and loving when he says it.

»Thanks... what do they think?«

»I didn't ask. But they seem okay.« Damian answers you, earning a soft groan from you, both from exhaustion and slight nervousness of their opinions. He seems to sense it and chuckles lightly, rubbing your back gently with his hand.

»Stop making out, we've got places to be!« What seems to be Jason calls out, interrupting the small kiss you shared just now.

With a small groan, he tags you along by the waist. Bruce greets you with a brief nod, not wasting any time to speak up.

»Good evening. When Damian said you have a band, I didn't expect it to be something like this.« In fact, he expected the worst the first time he found out about it, but never got to actually see what it's like until now. It makes Dick and Jason roll their eyes, even earning a brief annoyed look from Cass.

»The music was great, don't worry. I even got into one of those mosh pits. I would go again.« Dick interwhines, smiling goofily at you. He definitely had a good time.

»Me too. Loved the heavier songs.« Jason adds onto, getting slightly surprised by his positive feedback. Maybe they are just glad to have had some fun in a while, knowing they work hard to protect the city.

You exchange a few more words with them, sitting into the limousine beside Damian, who keeps his arm around your waist the entire time. He can sense your tiredness, as does the rest, but they keep talking about the show and what they liked the best. It's actually good they do so, not needing to talk so much. While quietly sitting beside Damian, you see that Cass has a pin of your band logo at her bag, getting a bit flustered and happy on the inside. You can't hold it for long though, being worn out after the long concert and doze off against your lovers shoulder before even arriving back to the Manor.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed reading it!!

←MASTERLIST

[modernmisadventures]

Chapter 1: A Mass of Meetings

Ciprys pulled open the door to the small, well-lit pub and strode inside, already feeling the tension drain slowly from her back and shoulders. Until recently, she’d never been one to frequent bars, but she’d recently discovered this cozy little hole-in-the-wall and found the warm atmosphere soothing. Though there was a steady clientele, it mostly consisted of working locals tying one off before heading home to their families and suppers, or those self-same families enjoying a night out together.

Making her way through the tables, she approached the bar and settled down on one of the stools, leaning on the counter and peering at the bartender a little ways down. As the brown-haired hyur finished with her current customer, Ciprys waved her hand. “Hey, Jess!” she greeted with weary cheer.

Jess glanced up in surprise upon hearing her name - few there knew it, fewer still who remembered it. She smiled as she caught sight of the Au Ra woman, her newest regular, it seemed. Not that she was complaining, of course - the young woman was a welcome change to her usual, boring patronage. 

“Good evening… Ciprys,” she greeted, thankful she’d managed to remember the woman’s name and praying she hadn’t noticed her brief pause. “Here for your usual?”

The words fell out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop them - oh, gods, what was her usual? 

Lavender-edged eyes sparkled with laughter as Ciprys slid onto a stool at the bar. “Gods, yes,” she replied fervently as she crossed her arms on the bar and laid her head upon them. “A screwdriver sounds absolutely perfect, thanks Jess.”

As the hyur moved to make her order, the Au Ra took the time to draw in several deep breaths. The last of her tension seemed to ease from her, the line of her shoulders softening, her tail coiling down amongst the legs of the stool and twitching gently. “Did you ever go to college?” she wondered as she lifted her head, resting her chin against her crossed arms, following the bartender’s movements with those bright, curious eyes.

“Me? Gods no.” Jess quickly shook her head - not that it wasn’t a thought that appealed to her. But, well… She knew her lot in life. The moment she’d turned eighteen was the moment she was officially on her own, booted out of the foster care system with not a single gil to her name. No, college had been entirely unobtainable - she was merely thankful her guardian angel of an older brother, so to speak, had lined her up with her newest job at the aptly named Bar. 

And perhaps that was for the better… She found herself subtly glancing back over her shoulder at the cheat-sheet she kept taped beneath the bar as she reached for the alcohol on the shelf. A screwdriver was… orange juice and vodka, right? Was it… one onze or two?

It was a mercy Buscarron kept her around as long as he had - and perhaps a mercy she hadn’t killed anyone yet. 

“What about you?” she asked, hoping the Au Ra hadn’t noticed her amateur slip-up. 

Ciprys had other concerns - namely, the low-grade headache brewing behind her eyes. “Count your blessings,” she muttered. “Professors are sadistic bastards whose only delight comes in torturing poor students until their brains squeeze out of their horns.” She sighed, lifting her head and reaching out to take the glass as Jess offers it to her. “No, let’s be honest,” she sighed, sipping at the drink and smiling her approval, “it’s my own damn fault for changing my major again. But how the hell am I supposed to know what I want to do with myself? It all seems so fascinating until it’s not, then it’s boring and I have to find something else.”

She stared at her glass for a long, brooding moment, then abruptly drained it in several long gulps, gasping softly as she placed the empty glass back on the bar. “Woah. That goes to the head.” Coughing slightly against the burn of vodka and orange juice, she shook her head sharply, then relaxed into her stool, exhaling. “But hits the spot. Water, please, if you would?” Lavender eyes lifted to meet Jess’s, and she offered a sweet smile. “Sorry for bitching at you. How has your day been?”

“Trust me,” Jess snorted, turning to fill a glass from the tap, “if that’s the worst bitching I get in a day, I count myself lucky. You wouldn’t believe the kind of shit I hear - I don’t know when ‘bartender’ became synonymous with ‘therapist’ and ‘marriage counselor.’” 

Sliding a glass to the Au Ra, she offered a sympathetic smile. “So, by that regard… I suppose my day hasn’t been that bad - but the night is still young.” Not that things typically got awful at the small, run-down tavern; they were far from the most popular haunt in the city, tucked away in the small, older building as they were. It was a rare eve when a newcomer popped their head in, and rarer still when they came by a second time. 

Well, there was Ciprys, and she seemed more than content to warm her stool and nurse her water. “Drink makes a tongue loose, and you get the benefit,” she replied cheekily. “Plenty of bitching, sure, but I’ll bet you get all the juicy gossip, too.” She smirked. “Who’s sleeping with who, who’s pissed at their neighbor, who’s stepping out on the missus. All sorts of delightful secrets.”

As she spoke, the door swung open and in walked a second auri female, followed closely by a male hyur. Ciprys turned slightly on her stool, curious, but neither appeared to be anyone she recognized. The woman was even shorter than herself, with the dark scales of a Xaela, while the man topped her by over a head, and had a young face that in no way matched his thick mane of silver hair. “Bet they got a few good ones,” she murmured to Jess, grinning into her glass as she watched the pair approach the bar blatantly without shame.

Neither seemed to pay her any mind, the woman hopping up on a stool and the man hooking his foot around the leg of another, drawing it closer before sliding onto it and angling himself so his leg all but brushed hers. For all the flirtatiousness of his manner, however, she seemed to take no note of it, her eyes scanning the bottles thoughtfully. “Just… be gentle,” he was saying, his voice a rich baritone. “She’s still learning, but she’s getting the hang of it.” His gaze lingered briefly on his companion, then lifted to study Ciprys’s openly curious face. He smiled at her, then twisted on his stool to seek out the bartender.

“Thancred!” Jess gasped, an impossibly wide smile gracing her face as she caught sight of the man who was practically a brother, who’d watched over her as she’d been thrown around through the foster system - without him, she couldn’t rightly say where she would have ended up. She only just refrained from leaping over the counter to envelope him in a hug, instead settling her abundant energy by bouncing on her toes. “What brings you here tonight? It can’t be the drinks, I’m sure.”

Though, she supposed, the question was all-but-irrelevant, as her gaze settled upon his companion - a downright tiny, yet gorgeous Au Ra woman, situated on the barstool beside his, the two just far enough apart not to touch. Jess flashed her a grin; she’d quickly become aware of Thancred’s reputation as she’d gotten older, but never had he bothered to bring by one of his interests, preferring to keep his work and pleasure far apart. All of which told her this one must’ve been especially intriguing… 

“What can I get for you two?”

Kal’istae watched, fascinated, at the way the bartender’s face lit up upon seeing her companion. Though she’d had plenty of opportunities to see Ryne and Thancred together, this was the first time she’d seen him with any of his other fosterlings. She looked sidelong at the hyur, intercepting his downward glance. “What, I can’t want to enjoy the fruits of your labor?” the man teased with a slight grin as he turned back to Jess. “Maybe I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

At his side, the tiny Au Ra scoffed softly. “‘You’ve already met Ryne and Minfilia’,” she said, her voice a deadly parody of the hyur’s deeper tones. “Now you have to meet Jess. If anyone will give you a good impression of me, it’s her.’” Indigo eyes edged in lavender limbal rings sparkled merrily at the bartender. “And I’ll assume you’re Jess.” She offered out one small, slim hand. “I’m Kal’istae Miurani, and I’ve heard a great deal more about you than I’ll presume you’ve heard about me.”

At her side, Thancred grinned, not even the least bit embarrassed to be ratted out. “She’s one of Ryne’s teachers,” he explained to Jess, “and she taught Minfilia as well, along with a few of the others, at the magic school.” Ignoring the Au Ra’s soft hiss - none of the teachers at the high school for magically-inclined students liked that nickname - he leaned on the bar and smiled winningly at his sister. “Help a guy out here, scamp.”

“And you would be correct.” With a smile, Jess gently took the woman’s hand, giving her a quick, formal shake. “I would hope you’ve heard only good things, but knowing Thancred…” She shot the man a mischeivous glance. “Granted, he knows I’ve got just as much dirt on him as he’s got on me - if he’s hoping I’ll be his wingman, he chose poorly.”

Not that that was exactly true - Thancred had been nothing but a guardian angel all throughout her life. Perhaps, she just found she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease him a bit, especially in the presence of someone he found important enough to introduce to his found family. 

“Unless,” she added with a smirk, “you mean to say, Thancred, you’ve come to me for relationship advice - in which case you must be truly desperate.”

It was rare that Thancred’s siblings had a chance to astonish him; even rarer that they managed to embarrass him. Jess managed to do both in one single sentence. “I, uh…” Caught out, he could only stare at her for a long moment before laughing weakly. “No one said anything about a relationship, scamp,” he muttered, but the tips of his ears flushed to a pale dusky pink. “I just thought she’d get a kick out of you. You have a lot in common.”

Kal’istae considered needling the man further - but she felt his sister had already neatly poked some holes in that ego. “Given half of what I’ve heard, I have no doubt he’s right,” she told Jess as she drew her hand away. “And everything he said, if not good - painted a great picture of a strong woman. Not that I’d expect any less of one of his sisters,” she added with a smirk.

“Ha ha,” Thancred grumbled. “Whiskey, please. What do you want?” he asked Kal’istae, just a bit sourly. When she gave him a silent look, he exhaled sharply. “Sorry. What would you like to drink, Kali?”

Lavender-edged eyes warmed, just slightly, and she turned back to Jess. “I don’t suppose you know how to make Sex on a Beach, do you?” came the guileless request. At her side, Thancred closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

On the other side, Ciprys let out a loud bark of laughter. “I like you,” she declared to Kal’istae. “Give me one of those too,” she added to Jess, eyes twinkling.

A lot in common… Jess couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in confusion. The woman sitting before her was gorgeous, elegant, her skin the shade of the midnight sky, her freckles painting constellations across her skin, her eyes a gorgeous lavender, horns adorned with delicate jewelry and chains. And Jess was… well, Jess. Ordinary. Plain. With not a onze of grace or dignity in her bones. Never had she so much as received even a second glance from someone who may have been interested in her - well, not from anyone sober, at least.

Yet, all the same, she gave a smile and a nod. “Of course I do,” she huffed indignantly, hoping the lie came across smoother than it sounded in her head. “Can’t say I have any firsthand experience, though - I hear the sand gets everywhere.” 

Sex on the beach… Sex on the beach… She ducked beneath the counter, hoping she looked as though she was grabbing cocktail glasses as she quickly opened the cabinet door, her eyes scrolling down her cheat-sheet until she found the drink in question. Vodka, peach, cranberry, orange… She could do that. She was sure. 

With what she prayed looked like practiced efficiency, she quickly assembled and poured the colorful drinks, popping in a tiny umbrella and a slice of orange to top it off - perhaps if it looked pretty, it would mask the… hopefully correct flavors?

“And here, Mr. Grumpypants.” Thancred’s order, at least, was simple - in no time she poured a glass of whiskey, placing a single cherry inside before passing it off. 

Ciprys took a hold of her drink and lifted it, sipping it carefully. “Perfect,” she beamed at Jess. “And I assure you, from firsthand experience - the sand absolutely gets everywhere and it is never worth it. Stick to somewhere where the earth is stable. And there are no insects,” she added, with a faint frown.

Brooding into his whiskey, Thancred barely took note of what the lavender Au Ra was saying. He swirled his glass in his hand, watching the dark amber liquid spin and slosh amidst the ice cubes within. The single cherry was a spot of crimson amidst the gold and he reached in, plucking it out by the stem. 

Slim indigo fingers nipped it from his, and he turned to watch Kal’istae slide it between her lips and neatly nip it from the stem. “You’re an awful, awful woman,” he told her as she laid the twig upon the bar next to his glass. She said nothing, only smiled, the cherry caught between her teeth for a brief moment before she swallowed it down. “What did I do to deserve that?”

“Merely be yourself,” she replied easily, sipping at her drink and humming in approval. “Very nice. Thancred tells me you’re into martial arts,” she remarked to Jess as she placed her glass back on the counter and cupped it loosely between her hands. “Any particular kind, or just whatever catches your fancy?”

Ciprys leaned over, eyes wide. “You fight? Like, with your hands? Or feet? Or weapons?” Rather than being appalled, as her delicate features and refined clothing might suggest, she seemed absolutely fascinated. “My parents would skin me if I tried.”

Jess wasn’t sure what made her laugh more - Ciprys’ comment about her parents, or the fact that it seemed Thancred had finally met his match, had finally found a woman who could handle his rogue-ish ways. Just as he deserved. Oh, she was in for an interesting night indeed… 

At the least, Jess was glad to discuss a topic she actually had knowledge on for a change. “I do jiu-jitsu, so, all of the above? It’s a style from Doma - but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to throw a punch!” Gods knew she’d had to, once or twice, in her life. “I… suppose my parents never minded…” 

It… wasn’t a lie, exactly, given that she’d never really been able to ask - but, wherever her parents were, she was sure they wouldn’t frown upon her following her dreams. 

Her dreams that landed her clumsily making drinks in a tiny bar. 

Once more, Thancred and Kali exchanged a look, but this time there was nothing of amusement in it. Thancred straightened, shaken out of his brooding, but before he could intervene, Ciprys was off with the bit between her teeth. “Jiu-jitsu?” she asked, dragging her tomephone out of the tiny purse hanging from her wrist. She lifted it and punched in the word into her browser, brow beetling as she studied the first several results. “Well, that seems absolutely fascinating! And you can do all that with your body? Huh! I’ll bet it really gets the blood moving,” she adds with a sly smile. “All that grabbing and holding. Fascinating!”

Kal’istae slipped into the conversation, leaning slightly to peer at the other Au Ra’s screen. Ciprys obligingly turned the phone so she could see it and the teacher pursed her lips. “Oh. That does look interesting,” she agreed. “A bit more contact than I’m used to.” When Ciprys made an interrogative noise, she smiled slightly. “The form I study is called Kalaripayattu, and it hails from Thavnair - Radz-at-Han to be exact.”

Ciprys snaps her fingers. “That I know! My parents are Hannish; I was born here, but they came over while mother was still with child. Do you just dance, or do you use the fan as well?”

Thancred let their conversation flow around him, angling himself to see Jess’s face and determine how the conversation was hitting her.

“Like your mother would let you within ten feet of a tessen,” sneered a voice from behind. Buried in the conversation, the door had swung open and shut again behind a pair of men - one a tall, slim Elezen with purple hair and the demeanor of a fish-out-of-water, the other a tall, built auri male with obsidian scales and smirking turquoise eyes locked on Ciprys.

Surprisingly, Ciprys’s lips curved in a coy smile and she spun almost lazily upon her stool to face the men, angling her head just so to peer up at the other Au Ra while still managing to appear to look down her nose. “Oh, Cirdan,” she cooed, “I didn’t know you were a fighting fan.” A double-entendre that probably fell flat to everyone else’s ears, it snapped in the male’s and he raised his eyebrows, then offered her a biting smile and just the slightest bow in response. She sparkled at him, then turned back to Kal’istae, clearly awaiting a response.

Mouth working silently for a moment, Kal’istae searched for the thread of the conversation, distracted by the two newcomers. “Ah - I do use the tessen,” she admitted. “I belong to the local dance troupe - we practice and perform on the weekends and sometimes in the evenings after work. Although I’ve never actually used them to fight; I’m not even sure what to do if it came to an actual fight.” Turning slightly to reinclude Jess in the conversation, she adds, “Which is considerably less than you can say, I know; I hope you’ll forgive me for being a dilettante,” she teased lightly.

A… dilettante? Jess blinked in confusion, not sure entirely what had just happened, with the sudden influx of visitors and entendres being thrown around. “Dancing sounds magical.” She gave a wistful grin. “Gods, how many times I wish I knew how to dance - if only I wasn’t born with the grace of an ox.”

Varrus found himself practically frozen in-place. Cir hadn’t mentioned anything about going to the bar to meet someone he knew when he’d dragged the Elezen reluctantly from their flat that evening. Varrus was, very much, not the sort to partake in bar crawls and drinking culture; his ideal night after work consisted of relaxing with a good game or shooting the shit with his flatmate. His friend, on the other hand, showed no issue thrusting himself into the already-established conversation occurring at the bar - and judging by his shit-eating grin, there was something… personal about his snarky comment to the female Au Ra. And so the Elezen merely stood in the back, waiting for his friend to… well, finish whatever it was he’d set out to do.

Thancred scoffed. “A chocobo, maybe,” he corrected Jess. “There’s nothing graceless about you, for all you’re built more for power and speed. I’ll bet you could learn if you wanted to.”

Kal’istae tsked at his own graceless manner. “Subtle,” she murmured to him, but had to agree. “But watching you handle the drinks, I don’t doubt he’s also right. If you’re ever curious, hit me up some evening your off, I’ll take you by the studio and let you see what we do. I’ll bet you’d be surprised how well you could pick it up.” Her eyes slid towards Ciprys. “And you,” she offered.

“This I’d pay to see,” Cirdan remarked as he slid into a nearby booth, gesturing for Varrus to join him. “Little Professor Ciprys, all dolled up for a right Thavnairian dance. Will you wear one of those little dresses that’s all veils and chains and nothing else but skin?”

Lavender eyes sparkled merrily. “And wouldn’t you enjoy that?” she asked sweetly. His grin only widened and she stuck her tongue out at him. “Forgive me, Jess,” she added, turning back to the bartender with a smile sliding from sly to soothing. “It seems it’s the night for unexpected reunions. This big lunk of an Au Ra is Cirdan. I grew up with him, but I didn’t know he was in this area now.”

Cirdan’s smile was serene as he turned it on Jess, Kal’istae, and Thancred. “Recently moved back; father has me taking over some of the business from him.” Ignoring Ciprys’s sudden frown and down-turned gaze, he continued. “Heard about this place from a neighbor. Got tired of this one,” and he jerked a thumb at Varrus, “kicking my ass in game, so dragged him out for a drink and ended up with a show as well. ‘Tis a pleasure.”

Thancred said nothing, letting the introductions wash over him, but his golden eyes did not echo the faintly polite smile on his lips, and he seemed a bit disconcerted by the presence of the male Au Ra - not enough to raise any concerns, but enough to keep an eye on him.

“A… pleasure,” Jess muttered, plastering on her best customer service smile - she was merely relieved the man had known Ciprys, rather than some manner of leech as his comments had implied. “Well, if you boys want something to drink, just holler.” So long as he kept his composure while drunk, that was. Jess was talented, just as Thancred had said, sure, but she didn’t exactly want to test her mettle against the seven-fulm-tall Au Ra, especially not with the way he carried himself - full of confidence, a strength to his step. His companion, for a mercy, seemed a fine sort, looking about as comfortable as one did in a chirurgeon’s waiting room. 

“Tired of getting your ass kicked,” Varrus snorted, sliding into the booth across from his friend. “So, should we… order some drinks, or something? That’s what you come to a bar to do, right? Or are you just here to harass young women?” Yet he said it with a smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye - he knew his friend well enough to know he’d never actually disrespect anyone, unless given a reason to. And he hadn’t exactly been wrong with his comments - Varrus was certain the Au Ra woman would look rather lovely in Thavnairian silks, though Au Ra had never been his personal preference. 

Not that he really even knew what his preferences were…

Probably someone a bit browner, a bit taller, and just as cute. But what does Cirdan know? “Or something.” His eyes roam over the handles of the tap. “A pair of Lonely Limsans, please,” he added to Jess politely, indicating one of the ales on tap. “And a plate of nachos if the kitchen’s open.”

“Oh, nachos,” Ciprys echoed, turning to look pleadingly at Jess. “You guys have nachos? With everything on them?” More puppy-eyes.

Thancred and Kal’istae glanced sidelong at each other, and he gave his companion a crooked smile. “Cheese sticks for us,” the hyur said to his sister. “Kali has a preference for them.” The Au Ra looked briefly surprised, then her face once more softened as she smiled at the silver-haired man. “And have you eaten anything in the past few hours? You’re due a break, right - snag a plate for yourself, on me, and join us.” Too late for the after-work rush, too early for the dinner crowd - there was still time before the local families began to trickle in to enjoy an evening in the pub.

"Thancred!" Jess scolded with a mocking gasp. "You know I can't just take a break when there's customers who need attending to - you of all people know better than to slack off." A jest that held more truth than it let on - for there truly were few more devoted to their roles than Thancred, something she herself could testify to.

All the same, she popped into the back to relay the orders to the acting chef - if the Duskwight man who looked as though he should have retired thirty years ago could even be called that. The Bar didn't exactly produce food Jess could be proud of - Twelve knew she could do better blindfolded with both hands tied behind her back - but it wasn't her job, and nor did she care enough to do something about it. No, while she greatly appreciated the opportunity and stable employment… everyone involved knew it wasn't her passion.

Though as to what was her passion, she couldn't rightly say. 

She hurried along, pouring the two ales from the tap - and counting her blessings the men hadn't also asked for cocktails - before running them out to the booth.

"And here you are. Your food will be out shortly, and if you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask." She shot the two men a polite grin, before sauntering back behind the counter, awaiting whatever customer service tasks the night still had in store. 

"Why this one?" Varrus asked, his nose wrinkling as he took a whiff of the drink placed before him. But he was nothing if not polite - summoning his courage, he brought the glass to his lips, pushing past his disgust as he swallowed a sip. Drinking was… not exactly a past time of his, but he wasn't about to leave his best friend high and dry. And if Cir said it was good…

Well, suffice to say that he and Varrus didn't always have to agree on preferences. Hopefully the food was better… Especially since good company seemed out the window, seeing as his buddy was still intently focused on the Au Ra at the bar, as much as he tried to hide his quick glances and small smirks. 

“What, we’re customers now?” Thancred asked teasingly as she returned from dropping off their orders. “I’m hurt. Just promise me you’ll take a break soon, scamp; don’t work yourself to death.” Pot, kettle.

Cirdan smirked at Varrus. “Because it’s not terrible, and I don’t think this place runs to proper Hingan beers or a nice warm sake.” He lifted his mug and sipped at the ale, nodding. “It’s not terrible,” he repeated, his eyes no longer on his roommate, but rather on the pale-scaled Au Ra still seated at the bar behind him. Poor Varrus.

Kal’istae watched Jess pop around and leaned her elbow on the table, resting her cheek against a fist. “I don’t think I could do what you do. I’d probably get annoyed too often and end up dumping beer on some poor guy’s head.”

Thancred raised an eyebrow. “Says the woman who spends eight hours a day beating the basics of white magery and summoning into young, rock-hard heads,” he drawled with a soft laugh, but his humor trickled away as he eyed his sister. “You haven’t been having any trouble with customers, have you?”

Ciprys ignored Cirdan’s constant glances as well as the conversation between the other three and instead turned on her stool again, peering at the ale in front of Varrus. “That doesn’t look good at all,” she complained. “Beer is so nasty. Like chocobo piss.”

Cirdan winced. “Do you talk to your mother with that mouth?” he asked her.

Her lavender-edged eyes shot up, laughed. “Of course not, she’d kill me. Why do you think I talk that way when she’s not around? Look, if you want a decent drink, you should try this.” She offered him her half-drained Sex on the Beach. “Just the right mix of sweet and tart, and a very subtle kick. Don’t let him fool you into thinking men only drink chocobo piss.”

“I’ve got to get my hands on a nice sake,” Cirdan grumped into his ale. “Then we’ll see what real people - men or otherwise - drink.”

"I… think I'll just grab my own drink, if it's all the same to you." With a polite nod, Varrus slid out of his seat, breathing a sigh of relief to be free from the tension between those two, whatever it was that was brewing between them, stronger than any alcohol in the pub - for better or worse. He made a mental note to ask Cir just what the deal was with the woman once they returned home, and why he'd never mentioned her before. 

He made his way to the counter, content to wait for the bartender to finish her conversation as he leaned against the bartop. She really was quite gorgeous; he couldn't help but admire her, the way her brown eyes lit up as she laughed at whatever joke her friends had made, her long, dark hair cascading over her bare shoulders, donned in a deep red halter top and black skirt that- 

With a shake of his head, he quickly broke himself from his stupor - gods knew she probably had plenty of lechers staring at her, and he didn't need to become one of them. 

"Gods, I wish," Jess snorted at Kal'istae's comment. "Trust me, if this job wasn't literally my entire livelihood, there would be plenty of dunked pitchers and patrons leaving with black eyes - and you know that if I could cast magic there'd be a few fireballs lit under some asses as well. Not that it really gets bad, and when-" 

She trailed off upon feeling a pair of eyes on her; glancing over her shoulder, she caught sight of the Elezen man staring at her, quickly meeting her gaze with a grin. 

"Oh, sorry!" So enthralled had she been in chatting with her friend that she'd neglected her bartender duties. She hurried over to him. "Was there a problem with your drink?"

"It was, uh… fine." 

She couldn't help but snort at his hesitation.

"But I was hoping you might have something a bit… sweeter?"

"Sweeter…" She eyed the man up and down, from his warm golden eyes to his long, purple hair, his sleeves rolled up, shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease his bare chest beneath - a fair sight more appealing to look at than most of her patrons. "I think I've got just the thing."

She didn't need a guide for his drink, as she reached into the fridge and pulled out the few ingredients, giving them a mix before sliding the man a glass.

"Here, this ought to do the trick."

She watched as he took a sip, a pleasant smile growing upon his face.

"It's perfect," he murmured, tilting his head. "What is it?"

"Strawberry lemonade," she snorted. "Better than anything else we serve here, I can assure you."

"It's just a shame it isn't nearly as sweet as you are." 

She inhaled sharply at his words, but before she had the chance to retort, he took his leave with a nod and a smile. 

It wasn't exactly a new line, nor a creative one - why, then, did she feel a blush creeping up her cheeks? Gods knew she'd heard it all and worse from her patrons on a daily basis - just because he had long ears and a smile to die for didn't mean he was any different.

She quickly shook her head, dragging her gaze from his retreating form and doing her best to suppress the flush on her face as she turned back to Thancred and his date. 

"I- I'm sorry, what were we talking about?"

Thancred eyed his sister keenly, then turned to study the Elezen as he sat there sipping at his lemonade. “I see I have my answer,” he replied neutrally. Kal’istae’s eyes narrowed as she glanced over at him, and she edged close enough to plant her elbow surreptitiously in his side. He grunted and dropped his gaze to her, affronted.

“Leave it be, Thancred,” she murmured, her lips barely moving. When his eyes narrowed, she leaned in closer yet, distracting him as she nestled against him. He inhaled deeply, his eyes never straying from her face. “She’s a big girl, and he seems like a nice guy.”

His hand slid up her back before he wrapped his arm around her waist, taking advantage of her nearness. She sighed, but didn’t pull away, content to let him put his moves on her if it kept him out of Jess’s business. “I can’t say the same for his companion - but I’ll let it go. For now.” After all, he had something far more preferable to keep a grip on at the moment. Kal’istae heard the words left unspoken and merely smiled, picking up her drink and sipping through the straw, seeming none too unwilling to be caught up in the pale-haired hyur’s embrace.

Ciprys paid no mind to the little drama unfolding beside her, too busy watching Cirdan while she delicately sucked at her drink through the straw. She said nothing, only watched him, a half-smile on her lips and an ineffable sadness lurking deep in her lavender eyes. As the food began to arrive, she reached down and began to absently nibble at her nachos.

Cirdan reclined on his bench, one arm draped along the back of it while he held his ale in the other, his turquoise eyes all but challenging the tiny auri girl. As Varrus returned to their table, his gaze finally broke from hers, sliding to the other man. “You go,” he said with a slow smile, toasting the Elezen with his ale jack. “She seems like a nice girl.” Smiling at the Elezen who delivered their plate of nachos, he scooped up a chip and bit in, licking the cheese from his thumb.

“Yeah… I-I mean, I just thought she deserved to hear something nice for a change…” Varrus responded absentmindedly, tossing a glance over his shoulder, meeting the Hyur’s eyes briefly one more time before they both quickly looked away. “I’m, uh, not sure I can say the same about the one who’s been eyeing you,” he murmured, lowering his voice. “I expect you to spill the details as soon as we’re back at the flat.”

Jess followed Thancred’s gaze, rolling her eyes as she caught him boring into the Elezen’s back. “Oh hush, Thancred,” she huffed. “If it pleases you to know, I’ve never even so much as held anyone’s hand. Let alone… well, other things, if you really want to know. I assure you, you have nothing to worry about - it’s me we’re talking about here.” At the very least, his companion seemed to distract him well enough - and good for him, too. After all he’d done, all he’d been through… he deserved a lover - not just a fling. Jess merely hoped the gorgeous Au Ra was, indeed, thinking the same. 

“And,” she added, “I’d appreciate you not scaring off my customers - I need an income here, and if the Bar closes, I’ll be thrown out onto the streets again. You don’t want me crashing at your bachelor pad, I assure you.”

Cirdan was quiet for a long moment, nursing his ale. “When we get back,” he finally agreed, his voice low. His eyes flicked to Ciprys, who gave him a sweet smile, then turned back on her stool and placed her empty glass upon the counter.

“Jess, thank you, the drinks were absolutely lovely - but outdone by the company,” the lavender-skinned Au Ra told her as she dug in that tiny wrist-purse and came up with the appropriate amount of gil. “Here, if you’d like to finish off my nachos,” she offered to the boys, dumping the half-eaten plate on Varrus and Cirdan’s table. “I’ll be back soon, Jess, I promise.” Pausing in the door, the tiny fashion-plate whirled with a spin of skirts and a dimple flashes at 

the corner of her mouth as she grinned at all them. “After tonight, I don’t think I could stay away!” Then she was out the door and it was swinging shut behind her, cutting off the soft bells of her laughter.

Bemused, Cirdan twisted in his seat to watch her go. For a brief moment, it almost seemed that he intended to dart after her - but instead he turned back and settled down into the embrace of the bench. Nudging their shared plate towards Varrus, he hooked his finger on the edge of Ciprys’s plate and dragged it to him, clearly intent on finishing them off. “Once we’re done,” he told his companion, “we’ll head back and see if I can’t win back some of my self-esteem from you.”

Thancred listened as he absently plucked up a cheese stick and bit into it. “We should probably get going soon, too,” he admitted to Kal’istae and made the mistake of looking down at her. She also had a cheese stick and was just biting into it. Her lavender-edged eyes met his, startled, and she dropped her hand. The melted cheese followed and she caught it with her forefinger, letting it stretch, long and dripping, between mouth and hand. They stared at each other across the short distance, and she could see his thoughts crowding his eyes.

And damn him, she was having exactly the same thoughts.

Hurriedly biting off the cheese, she wound it around her finger and cleared her mouth, coughing slightly. “Probably,” she agreed. “I still have work to grade and I need to finish prepping my lesson plans for tomorrow.” She eyed the half-cheese stick in her hand. “And find something more substantial if not quite as enjoyable to fill my belly.”

From the look on Thancred’s face, that was definitely not how he’d have preferred she spent her night. But all he did was smile lazily. “Well then. Finish your drink and your food, and we’ll let the scamp have a few minutes to compose herself before the dinner rush starts.” Those pale gold  eyes slid towards the bartender. 

"And I hope you two enjoy the rest of your evening," Jess snorted - the seductive cheese stick certainly hadn't escaped her attention, either. "I'm sure you can find something to fill you up, eh? And come back anytime!" She couldn't help the wistful smile that took over her face, her words holding a deeper meaning than she let on. For as thankful as she was for her job… it simply wasn't her. And damn if she didn't find herself lonely more nights than not. 

But seeing her brother happy, after all he'd been through? Well, just maybe, it was all worth it. 

Gods, she hoped it was worth it.

[klipkillakai]

omg that last post was everything you are so good at bringing an ask to life! what about *insert your fav* with a gf whose super sweet and kind to people, animals pretty much anything but in the bedroom her “reward” for being so good is that rough shit like choking spanking spit alllll that. honorable mention to her still having a sick ass praise kink 🫠🥴

rafe has always thought you were a sweet girl.

from the moment he met you he’s seen your kindness flow out of you like a stream of bright light, always kind. always considerate and well mannered.

you were his sweet girl, his.. good girl.

and you deserve a reward for that every now and then. :)

‘plap! plap! plap!’ rafe pounds into you ruthlessly, fucking you as if he hates you, as if you’ve done something wrong, it’s nearly brings you to tears, your in reverse cowboy position, rafe sitting up behind you, kissing your shoulder with a tight grip around your neck and fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit.

with every thrust you and rafe moan, god it feels sooo good, you know rafe isn’t punishing you. you haven’t done anything wrong. this is your reward, heavy passionate rough sex, nasty sex, shit you blush at when mentioned.

“that feels good huh baby? you love sitting on daddy’s dick huh?, this your reward for being such a good girl for me aint it?” you moan in reply, you feel yourself tighten around him, you love praise, you revel in it, you thrive in it. especially his, oh! you love him so much it makes you dizzy.

“lay on your belly” you hear him rasp, and your quick to do it, quickly leaning forward and pulling a pillow for your head as you lay down and arch your ass up, your getting so good at that, rafe thinks, he has to teach you when you first met, the memories of him pushing your lower back down the first time you had sex flashes through his mind and he smiles a bit.

“ass so pretty baby” he whispers, he lazily spits and it lands on his dick and a bit on your sore gaping hole, he slides himself back in with a long relieving sigh and slowly pounds into and gradually picks up his pace.

‘haa~ haa~ haa~’ each noise you make matches his pace, he’s so big, long and heavy compared to his skinny body, it surprised you at the beginning, not gonna lie, but it was such a good one.

‘slap!’ you feel his heavy hand slap your ass and you cry out, the painful sting burns in your skin, melding together perfectly like yin and yang, like sweet and sour, like the sun and moon, how different you both are, you so sweet and kind, you bright as sunshine, him so rough and mean, him dark as the moon.

he pushes you down so you lay flat on your belly, and he’s on top of you, arms beside your head and he’s looking at you, his mouth slightly agape and just staring at your pretty face, he captures your lips in a kiss and pulls away “open” he says with a grunt and you open your mouth, he spits in it and swallow and show him after “good girl” he coos and press his forehead to yours while pounding into you.

your connection is so deep, as deep as he is inside you, like his ocean blue eyes when he’s deep in thought, he feels this more than you, he’s crazy about you, he’ll never let you go, and he shows that when he fucks you, he marks you, your his territory, your his kryptonite, someone he keeps closes because he loves but also because he fears.

you start to feel that pressure build up right below your belly button, your eyes close and you bite your lip, you mewl. his hitting that perfect spot and he sees it in your face, a ping of satisfaction shoots through his spine and makes his dick throb.

“gonna cum for daddy?” you quickly nod with unshed tears in your eyes “yea?” he hums with condescension, “i know baby, jus hold it in f’me”

you softly whine and rafe sits up and flips you over, he needs to see all of you when he cums, he pushes your legs back against your head and pounds into you, the sounds of your skin slapping together ringing through the room once again, “ugh!” he moans, a chill running through his body like electricity, he’s so sensitive now and your so tight around him he wants to whine, and sometimes he does and you love it so much.

he kisses your neck, leaving marks that are soon to fully form, nipping and biting at your skin, he loves your smell, your sweat mixing in with the perfume you recently sprayed smells heavenly, he literally licks your neck, slowly dragging his tongue down it and giving you deep slow strokes to match, your toes curl, your eyes roll and you feel yourself start to cum.

tears roll down your cheeks and you hiccup and whimper, he grunts and thrusts harder and harder until you feel his nails grip into your thighs and his hips snap into you, it looks like a bullet hit him, he winces like a puppy and looks at you with so much love it makes more tears escape from your eyes.

“fuck i love you” he grunts and you feel the ropes of hot cum hit your cervix, one.. two.. three.. no four times.

he looks down his mouth forming an ‘o’ at the mess you both made together, and he slowly pulls out, watching your cream and his cum flow out of you like sweet nectar, it’s so enticing to him, like the leftover frosting in a bowl, he dips his finger in it and sucks it, salty and sweet, he leans down and kisses you, sloppily and disgustingly.. you both are soo nasty and you both couldn’t give less of a fuck.

besides in his eyes you’ll always be his good girl, no matter what.

|a/n|

this miiiight be some of my best work, i told y’all i would be back, this is a little starter and i just needed to express my ongoing obsession with rafe mf cameronnnn 😭

also shoutout to who gave me this idea! thank you so much and i wish i did this inbox sooner! also i take requests guys! so request away! i’m making a master list soon so look out for that!!

[forbodium]

watching their partner become a villain (dialogue prompts)

written by me. please enjoy and use for whatever you like. remember to credit me when reposting.

“this isn’t you anymore. you never wanted to hurt people.”

“come back to me. please.”

“i know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“you have to stop this—before it’s too late!”

“turn you in? you know i could never do that.”

“don’t touch me.”

“do i mean anything to you anymore?”

“we can get away from all this; start over. no one has to know what you did.”

“if you love me, you’ll stop.”

“how long have you been planning this? did i ever even know the real you?”

“you can’t keep me here!”

“it’s okay. it’s okay. we can cover this up. where’s the bleach?”

“you promised no one would get hurt.”

“how do you expect me to sleep next to you at night knowing what you did?”

“okay, i’ll help you—but this is the last time.”

“are you going to kill me?”

“i didn’t want to believe you could do something like this.”

“what else have you been hiding?”

“i thought you cared about me.”

“no, i’m staying with you. ‘for better or for worse’, remember?”

“i can’t let this go on any longer.”

“you can do what you want with me—just don’t hurt the kids.”

“you’re not human.”

“could you change out of those bloodied clothes before you sit on my couch?”

feel free to add more prompts, and please reblog with your stories or tag me in them. i’d love to see your ideas!

[jjsfavgirl]

Calm down party girl

JJ Maybank x partygirl!reader

Summary: JJ taking care of his girlfriend after a long night of partying.

I’m going to a party on Saturday and couldn’t stop picturing this hope you enjoy! :)

Warnings:alcohol, underage drinking, nudity, suggestive content( just reader being a horny drunk)

Part 1 Part 2

-

“Jay! Jay! Did you get my drink?” I smiled, stumbling into my blonde boyfriend as he caught me by my elbows and stabilising me. Chuckling at my drunken state, he knew that now was the time to cut off my tab and send me home.

“Calm down party girl.” He began, pulling my closer to him as to avoid shouting over the noise of drunk teens and the 2000s mix blasting over the stereo as cheers filled the room. “Let’s get you home, princess.” He smiled at me.

“Nooo.” I groaned, pouting out my bottom lip, praying it would convince him to let me stay.

“You can’t even stand without falling over, hun.” He chuckled.

“But-“ I began speaking.

“Nuh uh. No buts let’s go.” He spoke, not hesitating to take his hands off my arms and scoop me up bridal style, his arms setting under my neck and legs like they were sculpted for his touch.

Not wanting to argue with him, I allowed him to carry me to the porch of the house. As he set me down on the wood, my heels clicked and my head spun from the sudden position change.

“Can you make it to the car?” He quizzed, taking my pink purse off my shoulder and stuff both our phones into his pocket as he fished out the keys to the Twinkie.

“Yep.” I giggled, my drunken state driving my emotions hire wire.

Shuffling my way through the car park, my eyes glowing up at my handsome boyfriend who was looking back every so often to make sure I was still following him.

He smiled at me brightly, interlocking our hands together and helping guide me as he spotted the Twinkie behind a black Maserati.

My bottom lip poured out once more as the pain of my pink heels dug deeper into my ankles, my feet dragging even more.

JJ took notice to my struggle and immediately stopped walking to check on me.

“Put one foot on mine so you can take of your heel.” He ordered, knowing exactly what was hurting me.

We had both seen this before, partying every weekend then ending in me getting a foot massage from JJ after wearing my iconic pink heels that were one size too small for the long hours of the night.

“No, I’ll hurt you.” I spoke, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes.

“I don’t care, you’re in enough pain as it is.” He said.

I obliged with him, doing as he said and placing my skinny heel on his foot as I removed my right heel then did the same with my left.

Groaning slightly as my bare feet tingled from the cold, sharp gravel beneath them, JJ turned around, placing both hands behind his back and motioning for me to hop on.

“I’m not a little kid jay.” I laughed at his movements, placing my hands on his shoulders as I hopped on.

“What ever do you mean? This is a very serious piggy back.” He chuckled, turning his head slightly to flash his pearly white while both his hands linked under my calves once more.

He carefully placed me down in the passenger seat of the Twinkie, tucking my legs under the dash as he placed my pink heels in my lap.

Joining me in the car, he started up the engine and we headed back to the Château.

-

Arriving at the Château, we spotted John B and Sarah laying with legs intertwined on the hammock outside.

“I swear she went out yesterday?” John B laughed, noticing my skimpy clothes and drunken state.

“You are one crazy lady y/n” Sarah laughed.

“You know it!” I cheered, throwing my hands in the hair as my strapped heels swinged around my bracelet covered wrists.

“Come on, party girl, let’s get to bed.” JJ ushered me inside the Château, guiding me by my bare waist.

I giggled, turning around to my boyfriend and placing a sloppy kiss on his lips then trailing them down to his tan neck.

“Nuh uh.” JJ pulled my wrists away from his chest, forcing my lips to retract from his body.

“Whyyy.” I groaned, pouting like a spoilt little kid once again.

“Bedtime.” He smiled, spinning me back around and leading me into the spare bedroom we called our own.

Plopping myself down onto the bed, savouring the smell of JJ (weed, sweat and cheep booze) JJ searched through his drawers and pulled out a baggy shirt of his and black biker shorts of mine.

“Arms up.” He spoke as he approached me, fingers motioning me to put my arms up.

A bright smile covering my whole face from eyes to mouth, I obliged as my arms swung in the air and JJ began to strip off my small “shirt”.

He did the same action with the mini skirt I had on, immediately sliding on my shorts and carefully shimmying his shirt over my long locks.

We both lay down together, his arms immediately wrapping around my frame as I played with our matching bracelets which lay so perfectly on his tan wrist.

“Did you have fun tonight?” He smiled down at me, his smile growing even wider than what seemed possible as I grinned up at the surfer.

“Yeah, I broke the record for most shots taken.” I smirked back, very proud of my accomplishment.

“That’s my girl.” He laughed heartily, placing a warm kiss on my forehead.

[cosmophoriia]

"a perfect match" : bubbly x stoic prompts. 𝜗𝜚

ღ request from: anonymous. bubbly x stoic person prompts perhaps? i love love fluff and silly :> btw!! can you keep it minimal of the stoic being mean, just bluntly honest? (says things as they are so sometimes it comes off as mean but its not intended to be mean!) thank you!! your writings so far have been cute!!

"it wouldn’t help you to smile you know." “it will.”

character a ignoring character b but once someone else catches b's eye, they get jealous.

character a pretends to not like character b but they know deep down that they love them and enjoy b's company.

character c hurts character b’s feelings and they are not their bubbly self and a notices and immediately asks what’s wrong.

^ character a confronting c and defending b. b is happy to see that a do care for them.

“how are you so filled with energy early in the morning?”

“why are you so grumpy all the time?”

“how about we do something fun to lighten up your grumpy mood?”

“leave me be.”

“your full time job is to annoy me.”

“i don’t hate you just the things you do.”

“i made something for you.”

character b paying attention to character a’s favorite food and cooking it for them.

“is every clothing you own is bright colors?”

“you need to wear something other than black, nothing wrong with a little color.”

“don’t let anyone change you for who you are.”

^ “you may not be for everyone but it doesn’t mean you have to change anything about yourself just to fit in.”

“i know i bug you a lot but i wanna say thank you for being there for me whenever i wanted to hear the truth.”

“why do you still want to be near me?” “i mean i’m not used to someone wanting to be around this long.”

^ “because you have a caring heart, you say exactly how you feel and there’s nothing wrong with that.”