"caitvi X Masc Reader" You Must Be Fucking Kidding Me.

What's wrong between us?

Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Summary: Your friendship with Abby changes after she kills Joel in front of you.

Word Count: 748

Warning: ANGST, graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of death.

You feel Abby's heavy presence behind you as you finish cleaning Yara's arm. Looking out of the corner of your eye, you see her approaching and standing almost next to you.

"How long will she be out?" she asks, gesturing to the girl lying on the makeshift gurney.

"An hour, maybe." you reply, grabbing the supplies you used to store them inside your backpack again.

You knew she would come at some point, Owen was with you, so it was obvious she would come. For him, of course. Abby never got over or forgot her ex-boyfriend and that was one of the reasons you left the WLF with Owen and Mel, they wanted to join the fireflies.

You had become good friends with Owen and had shared the same opinion with him about the conflicts caused by leaders. Another reason for you to leave was Abby's troubled relationship with Owen. You knew the stories about their relationship, you knew that Abby still had feelings for him and she always let that show in her actions. It hurt you, deeply. You had been in love with her for so long, only God knows how long.

It seemed like everything about her pulled you. The smile, the polite manner, the loyalty, but especially the receptive manner. She was so nice to you when you joined, you found yourself enchanted. You joined the WLF 2 years ago, and you were happy that Abby considered you her friend, as it gave you permission to be close to her. At a certain point, you also thought that she reciprocated your feelings, because of the affectionate way she treated you, the way she preferred to be with you instead of others.

But you were wrong, it seems. Whenever you raised those hopes, Abby crushed them when she started talking about Owen and when she went to talk to him hidden somewhere on the base. You got tired of it and slowly started to move away from her, making excuses for her whenever she wanted to be close to you. The trigger was when she tortured Joel in front of her. That sight made your stomach churn and you couldn't sleep well afterwards.

That was the first time you saw Abby with different eyes.

So when Owen got kicked out and rushed into your dorm asking if you wanted to join him and Mel, you said yes. So here you were, at the aquarium, after Mel had amputated the arm of the girl Abby brought with her.

"You should go talk to her brother, reassure him." you said, still facing away from her, finishing organizing the supplies in your backpack.

"I will."

You shouldered your backpack and turned to her, swallowing hard as you looked into her eyes. Nodding quickly, you turn to leave.

"Are you really serious?” the slightly irritated voice. “Are you going to act as if nothing happened?”

"What are you talking about?" you turned to her, seeing that she had crossed her arms, her strong biceps twitching.

"You left without saying anything, you ran away." she said with her brow furrowed in annoyance.

"This is not the right time." you replied, tightening the straps of your backpack to take out your growing irritation.

"Was there ever a right time?"

"I don't owe you an explanation, Abby."

She took quick steps towards you, making you involuntarily step back.

"What is this, huh? What's going on with you?" she asked hurriedly, sounding irritated. "What's wrong between us?"

"Nothing."

"Stop this nonsense!" she raised her voice and you saw Yara move on the stretcher.

"Lower your voice, there's an injured person here." you answered.

"Tell me the truth."

"I'll repeat myself: I don't owe you explanations, Abby." you replied, starting to get irritated.

"I thought you were my friend." she replied, placing her hands on her hips.

"I thought you were a good person, but then I saw you torture someone to death." you replied, your voice shaking slightly. "You disfigured his face with a golf club."

She lifted her face slightly, eyes widening at your revelation. Her breathing felt heavy now.

"I told you what that man–"

"I can't sleep, I keep remembering you hitting him in the head again and again." you closed your eyes painfully.

She remained silent this time, her eyes lowered to the floor, she seemed embarrassed.

"You should go talk to Yara's brother soon." you said and left quickly.

oh grayson pls save me

Can you do grayson with thief/criminal reader

LOVING A THEIF

Grayson x f!reader

Synopsis: You were a well known criminal, the thief or Piltover. But you were also Grayson’s partner, captain of Piltover’s enforcers. All of this caused your relationship to be complicated, but it became even worse when you were caught by Marcus, and sent to life in Stillwater.

Request: Anon 🤍

A/N: At the top of each divider, I had to add a time skip so it made sense, so just note that.

The rain was a curtain of silver needles, sharp and relentless, drumming against the stone streets of Piltover. The glow of the hextech lamps cast long, wavering shadows, and somewhere in the maze of alleys, you ran. The cold air bit at your lungs, every breath sharp like broken glass, but the thrill of it—oh, the thrill—kept you going.

A satchel slapped against your hip, full of trinkets that would sell for a fortune topside but feed a dozen orphans in the Lanes. Every step you took echoed with the soft clinking of stolen wealth, and for a moment, you allowed yourself a grin. You were good at this. Too good, some might say.

Until tonight.

“Stop! By order of the Enforcers, stop!” Someone yelled, and the single statement made you cringe. But You knew that voice. Low, rough, and full of a desperate kind of righteousness.

Marcus.

The dog that barked far too loud and bit too deep.

You whipped around a corner, feet splashing in a puddle, heart thundering. It wasn’t just Marcus chasing you—there were more, at least three other enforcers judging by the heavy footfalls. You couldn’t see them, but you heard them. Closer now.

Too close.

You knew this part of Piltover too well, knew that if you kept running, you’d hit a dead end. But doubling back was suicide. You needed a way out. A way up.

Your eyes darted around, landing on a crate leaning against the wall. Too low.

The balcony above it? Too high.

But there, a pipe running alongside the wall. Rusted, but it would hold. It had to.

You sprinted for it, tossed your bag up first, then leapt. Your fingers curled around the pipe just as a bolt of pain lanced through your shoulder, a clawing, burning ache. You hissed, fingers tightening as you glanced down.

Marcus, his baton still raised, sneering up at you. “Gotcha, rat.”

You heaved yourself up with one arm, ignoring the throb in your shoulder. Every movement felt like fire, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

“Persistent little thing,” Marcus muttered, signaling to the others. “Circle ‘round! She’s bleeding, meaning she won’t get far.”

He was right. The wet warmth trickling down your arm was proof enough.

But they underestimated you.

They always did.

(Grayson’s Apartment—Hours Later)

Blood stained the fabric of Grayson’s shirt as she pressed it against your shoulder, her jaw set tight with a quiet, simmering rage. You sat on the kitchen counter, legs swinging off the edge like a child getting scolded, biting down a hiss with every press of the cloth.

“You know,” she said, her tone sharper than any knife, “I can only cover for you so many times before it’s not just your neck on the line.” Her silver hair clung damp to her forehead, still glistening from the rain outside. “Marcus is sniffing around harder than usual. He’s not stupid, love.”

You tilted your head, grinning up at her despite the sting in your arm. “I’d argue that point.”

Her eyes darted up to meet yours, unamused but still soft in that way only she had. The kind of softness reserved for things you love but shouldn’t.

“I’m serious,” she said, gripping your chin with firm fingers. Her callouses brushed against your skin, grounding you. “You think I like playing both sides of this war? If Marcus catches you again, he won’t drag you to me. He’ll drag you straight to the Council. And I can’t help you then.”

Her voice dropped, and with it, her gaze. She released your chin and looked away, her hand braced on the counter beside you. “I hate this,” she muttered. “I hate this game we’re playing.”

Your grin faltered.

“I know,” you murmured, glancing at the door as if expecting someone to kick it down. “But you knew what I was when we started this, Gray. You knew I wasn’t ever gonna be… clean.”

“Don’t.” Her voice was quiet but firm, sharp as broken glass. “Don’t act like you’re dirt underfoot. What you do for the kids in Zaun — I know why you do it. I know. But knowing doesn’t make it any safer.”

Her hand settled on your thigh, fingers curling lightly, and you leaned into her touch. There wasn’t much softness in your life. But this? This was yours.

“I’ll be careful,” you said, and for once, you meant it. “I’ll lay low for a while.”

Her fingers squeezed your leg.

“Promise me.”

You hesitated, and lying to Grayson was like cutting your own heart out.

“I promise.”

And for a time, you both believed it, but Grayson also knew you could be a bit stubborn with your words.

(Stillwater Prison—A Few Days Later)

You didn’t hear them coming. You’d been too focused on the metal lock in front of you, working it with a thief’s patience. The distant sounds of footsteps didn’t register until it was too late.

A sharp whistle behind you.

“Breakin’ into Stillwater, huh? Gutsy.”

You froze, lockpick still in hand. Slowly, you turned your head. Marcus. Standing there with a squad of enforcers behind him, smug as ever. His baton spun lazily in his hand.

“Y’know, I thought you’d be smarter,” he said, stepping closer, his boots heavy against the stone floor. “Grayson ain’t here to save you now, sweetheart.”

You braced yourself to run, but Marcus shook his head, letting out a little ‘tch’. “Uh-uh. Not this time.”

Two enforcers moved faster than you could react, hands gripping your arms, wrenching them back. You thrashed, teeth bared like a cornered animal.

“Get off me!” you snarled, feet kicking, head swinging. “You think this’ll end well for you, Marcus? You think Grayson won’t—”

“Grayson ain’t calling the shots anymore,” Marcus sneered, stepping forward, his face so close you could smell the rain on his coat. “You think she’s untouchable, but guess what? Council’s takin’ a closer look at her, too.”

That made you pause, heart sinking into your stomach.

“What are you talking about?”

Marcus grinned, baring his teeth. “Her leash just got shorter. They’re watchin’ her now. Which means you?” He laughed, low and mean. “You’re fair game.”

The crack of his baton against your temple was the last thing you felt before darkness took you.

(Grayson’s Office—The Next Day)

“You should’ve told me sooner,” Grayson said quietly, her back turned to Marcus, hands braced on her desk. Her knuckles were white from how hard she gripped it. “I would’ve handled it.”

Marcus shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. “Handled it how, Captain? Council said you’re too close to her. Said someone else’d be deciding what happens to her.”

Grayson’s head turned just enough for him to see the sharp cut of her glare.

“She’s mine,” she said, low and dangerous.

“Not anymore,” Marcus replied, too smug for his own good. “She’s Council property now. Best you stay out of it, Captain. Wouldn’t want them thinkin’ you’re compromised.”

He left her there, fists trembling against the desk.

(The Cell—Later That Night)

The cold stone of the cell pressed against your back, the chains on your wrists rattling every time you moved. You’d lost track of time. Hours? Days? Didn’t matter. You’d been in worse places. But it was the silence that ate at you, gnawed at you like a hungry rat.

She’d come for you. She always did.

But when the cell door opened, it wasn’t her.

Two enforcers stepped in, faces blank, eyes dull. Not Marcus. Not Grayson. Strangers.

“On your feet,” one of them barked.

Your heart pounded harder, faster. “Where are you taking me?”

The other enforcer grinned, pulling you to your feet with a yank.

“Council’s got plans for you, thief.”

Panic set in, wild and sharp. Grayson wasn’t here. No one was.

You fought like hell.

(The Courtroom—In the Morning)

The courtroom smelled of old parchment, sweat, and something faintly metallic — like blood that had dried on stone. Sunlight streamed in from high, arched windows, slanting across the cold marble floors in sharp golden beams. It might have been beautiful if you weren’t chained to a chair, beaten and bruised, with half of Piltover staring down at you like a caged animal on display.

Your head hung low, a mat of tangled hair falling over your face. The left side of your face was swollen, your eye barely open. Your ribs ached with every breath, thanks to Marcus’s baton. Dried blood clung to your lips and the corner of your mouth. But you sat upright. Pride wouldn’t let you do otherwise.

You weren’t going to give them the satisfaction.

“Thief. Subverter of Piltover’s justice. A known criminal with a history of jailbreaks, sabotage, and theft,” the council elder’s voice echoed through the chamber, his words hitting harder than Marcus’s baton ever could. His gaze was cold, unwavering. “Today, the council convenes to pass judgment on one who has stolen not only from Piltover’s coffers but from its dignity.”

He looked down at you like you were already buried six feet under. “Have you anything to say before sentencing is passed?”

You tilted your head, wincing at the ache in your neck. Blood still lingered on your tongue, sharp and metallic. You scanned the room, letting your one good eye fall on Marcus, who leaned against the wall like he owned the place, arms crossed, smug grin plastered on his face.

Then your gaze found her.

Grayson.

Her silver hair gleamed in the pale light, her Enforcer’s uniform pressed sharp and crisp. She stood in the back, silent, arms folded tightly. She wasn’t looking at the council. She was looking at you.

Her face was stone, but you knew her tells. The twitch of her jaw. The hard clench of her fingers against her bicep. She hated this. Hated every second of it.

Your lips curled into a grin, sharp and bloody. “Yeah, I got something to say.” You leaned forward, chains clinking with the movement. “Your ‘justice’ is a joke.” Your voice rasped, raw from disuse, but loud enough to cut through the chamber. “You lot sit up there on your thrones while Zaun drowns. Kids starve. Families break.” You licked the blood off your lip, glaring up at them. “I steal to feed the hungry. What do you do?”

A loud bang echoed through the chamber as the elder slammed his gavel down.

“Silence!” he barked, leaning forward like he’d rip the words out of your throat himself. “This council has heard enough.” His eyes narrowed with the satisfaction of a man who’d already made his decision. “By the authority of the Council of Piltover, you are hereby sentenced to life imprisonment in Stillwater Prison, effective immediately.”

The gavel struck once more, both hard and final.

Your heart didn’t stop, but it did stutter. Stillwater. Not a month. Not a year. Life.

Chains yanked you up as guards pulled you to your feet. Your ribs screamed in protest, but you kept your face steady. No tears. No begging. You glanced up, searching the back of the room.

Grayson hadn’t moved.

Her face hadn’t changed. Her eyes stayed on you, hard, steady, and watching.

(Outside the Courtroom—Minutes Later)

The air was sharp with the crisp bite of morning mist. You stumbled forward, your feet dragging as two enforcers hauled you down the stone path toward the transport vehicle. The sun hung low in the sky, barely warm.

The vehicle loomed ahead, its iron doors wide open, a mouth ready to swallow you whole. It wasn’t your first ride to Stillwater, but it was the first ride you knew you’d never come back from.

“Pick up the pace, thief,” one of the guards growled, yanking your chain hard enough to send you to your knees.

You coughed, chest heaving, ribs burning like wildfire. But before the guards could yank you up again, you heard a familiar voice.

“Let me handle this.”

Grayson’s boots crunched on the stone as she approached, moving slow, deliberate. The guards stiffened at her arrival.

“Captain, council said—” one of them started, but she shot him a look colder than a Zaun winter.

“I know what the council said.” Her eyes stayed locked on you. “Back off. I’ll deal with it.”

The guards exchanged glances, but Marcus wasn’t here to argue on their behalf, so they let go of your arms.

You swayed but caught yourself.

“Thought you’d be happier,” you sneered, letting your head tilt to the side. “Finally got me in chains, Captain.”

Grayson’s eyes narrowed. She strode forward and grabbed the front of your shirt, jerking you close. Her face was inches from yours. To the guards, it looked like rage. But you saw it. The fakeness of her present scowl.

“Oh trust me, I’m happy about your kind being set off again.” She spat, trying not to break her angered mask from that simple statement, especially since she knew it would be taken a lot differently if she meant it.

Her fingers curled into your shirt, her hand pressing firmly against your chest. Against your heart. You grabbed her wrist and growled up at her, letting it slide down until you felt the cool press of metal slip into your palm. Her voice came low, barely a whisper, her lips barely moving.

“Don’t screw this up,” she muttered.

You blinked once. No nod. No words. Just the faintest shift of your fingers, curling around the key she’d pressed into your hand.

“Stop talking and get in line, scum,” she said louder, shoving you back hard enough that you stumbled. The guards snorted as if she’d done them a favor.

But she didn’t look at them.

She didn’t look at you either.

(The Transport Stop—En Route to Stillwater)

The armored transport swayed with every bump in the road. It was cramped inside, just you and three other prisoners. The only light filtered in through the small slits in the steel walls.

Your heart pounded like a war drum.

The key pressed into your palm felt sharper than any knife. Slowly, carefully, you shifted your hands, turning your wrists just enough to feel for the keyhole. Your fingers were slick with sweat, your breathing shallow and controlled.

Click.

The cuffs fell loose.

You didn’t breathe. Not yet.

You glanced up. The two enforcers sat at the front, laughing about something one of them had done the night before. They hadn’t noticed. Not yet.

You leaned forward.

“Hey,” you whispered to the prisoner across from you. His eyes snapped to you, wide and wary. You tossed him the key, keeping your movements slow, careful, and quiet. “Pass it.”

He nodded, hands fumbling as he worked the lock on his cuffs. The others followed suit. One by one, the chains fell away, quite enough to not draw attention.

Once everyone was done, the next bump in the road was your signal.

You lunged.

Your hands were free, your body a storm of fists, elbows, and raw fury. The first enforcer didn’t even see it coming—his head snapped back, his helmet cracking against the wall. The second guard scrambled for his baton, but you caught him by the wrist, twisting until you felt the snap. He howled in pain.

“Move!” you barked, hauling yourself toward the open door. The foggy expanse of the southern coast between Piltover and Zaun lied ahead.

You didn’t look back.

Never look back.

(The Last Drop—Hours Later)

The air inside the Last Drop was thick with warmth and the smell of stale beer. Shadows danced along the walls, lantern light flickering in the dim haze. You sat in the back corner, hoodie pulled low, one eye still swollen despite Vander coming over only minutes ago to dab some alcohol onto it.

The door creaked. You didn’t look up. Didn’t have to.

“Three hours late,” you muttered, taking a sip of water.

“Had to make it look good,” Grayson replied, sliding into the booth across from you.

She leaned back, her fingers tapping the table. Her uniform was gone, replaced with a simple jacket and scarf.

Her eyes met yours. Really met yours. No mask. No stone-faced captain. Just Grayson.

“Nice escape,” she said, lips curling into a half-smile.

“Yeah,” you leaned forward, hands still aching. “Nice key.”

Silence hung between you, heavy with things you’d never say out loud.

Grayson sighed, looking toward the door. “They’ll be looking for you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Her eyes flicked back to yours, sharp and silver in the dim light. “Then I guess you’d better stay hidden.”

You smiled, blood still on your teeth. “Guess so.”

“Now, are you going to keep telling me stuff I already know, or are you gonna come over here and help me with all these injuries? Vander only knows how to heal baby cuts for this four little rascals, not bruised ribs.” You joked while leaning back again, just proving how tired you were.

Grayson chuckled and shook her head before walking over. She tugged a chair and took a seat in front of you, unfolding her scarf. “Alright, alright. Take your shirt off, love.”

so cute

She Keeps Me Warm - Rhaenyra Targaryen

nyrathecruel asked: Could I request Rhaenyra x handmaiden!reader where they’re drawn to each other from the moment they meet and bond over their mutual trust issues regarding losing loved ones while slowly falling in love on Dragonstone? Like Nyra is cold and distant with everyone else, hesitant to let anyone in, but she just clicks with reader and whenever they’re alone, Nyra just melts and goes all soft, all affectionate touches and sweet nicknames and tender looks? (Two of my fav nicknames she’d call reader are: my little one, and Perzītsos (little flame) Maybe even a bit of soft smut, though it doesn’t have to be smut if you’re not comfortable

Anonymous asked: Could you do a Rhaenyra x fem stark reader pls :)

A/N: I had TWO IDEAS for these requests! So stay tuned for another fic publishing soon!

They were not well-kept secrets, Daemon’s unsavory proclivities. So, in turn, Rhaenyra went to neither effort to hide her misery nor how you, a simple handmaiden from the North, seemed to be its only remedy. 

“Enter, perzītsos. He has gone.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the low sound of Rhaenyra’s voice and you pulled your ever-listening ear from the ironwood door. Your hand, fumbling with the wiry giddiness of a lightning bolt, found the cool handle and pushed with a turn. Tongues of yellow and orange greeted you with licks of diminished warmth along with the sight of Rhaenyra, bathed in the same glow. She sat, body spread and extended over the plush armchair before the fireplace.

“Apologies, my Princess, I did not wish to intrude on-”

“What have I told you?” 

Her voice was low still, her eyes still fixed on the dwindling flames, as she addressed you. Heat rushed up to your face and washed down like the tides of the Narrow Sea. Your mouth opened slightly before you closed it, your muscles suddenly all-too-alive. Luckily, the Princess of Dragonstone, Heir to the Iron Throne, clarified. 

“You must call me Rhaenyra,” she turned to you then, light eyes darkened by the colors of fire and smiling softly. “I will not have you hiding behind formality or dutiful, Northern niceties.”

“Apologies,” you echoed, swallowing hard. “I did not wish to intrude on your lawful husband…having you.” 

Rhaenyra’s smile faded, ebbed into a flatline of stone sternness you recognized from meetings with the maester. “He left before dusk on Caraxes, an hour or so before by which I told you to arrive. There was no having of any sort.”

She moved to her feet then, her shoes knocking against the heated stone floor of her chambers as she approached you like the Blood Wyrm in her crimson gown. Her eyes were squinted slightly, focused on you, your face, reading how your eyes slowly widened with her every careful step. It was the same manner in which she approached you the first time: calculated, a predator eyeing prey. The lightning returned again, sending you into a brewing storm that culminated in Rhaenyra’s lips.

When she stood full before you, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the column of your neck. Your breath hitched immediately, and trepidation caught in your throat.

“Princess,” you whispered, though it sounded more like a gasp. Rhaenyra immediately pulled away from your neck, revealing her furrowed brow and playful scowl. “I still do not understand.”

“My perzītsos, what more is there to understand?” Her hands raced up the bodice of your gown to your neck. Her hands were warm dancing along your most sensitive skin. 

“Prince Daemon-” “Is off sowing dragonseed,” Rhaenyra said, though the ease with which she used the term alarmed you. “Just as my court remains adrift gathering council. All men, all cold, making me colder and I will not have that. I will have you.”

Rhaenyra pressed her lips back against your neck, closer to your jaw. You shivered again, your body knocking against hers instinctively, careening into her warmth. The tip of her nose tickled your skin as her lips went lower, nipping at your collarbone. Your hands rose to her waist, the whaleboning of her corset bodice. Beneath the fabric, you could feel her breathing grow more erratic. Your own breathing grew shallow with excitement, so much so that you pushed the Princess gently away. 

She gave you a worried look, her hands caressing your flushed cheek. “Do you not wish to have me?”

White hot, dragon fire panic shot through your veins. “No, no, I-”

But Rhaenyra was recoiling despite your manic clarification, already reigning in herself, her want. She was cooling into her hardened self, the soul sent off to Dragonstone by the eyes of the critical court in King’s Landing. You had seen it too many times before. How practiced Rhaenyra was as holding parts of herself back.

You reached out, just as she had, with your lips finding her neck first and your hands on her gowned hips. She was stiff under your touch but for a moment until she quickly melted into you as your mouth moved up. You pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek before pulling away, eager to see her pleased, unworried; eager to see the Rhaenyra she only seemed to show you.

“I don’t understand what it means,” you breathed out, not entirely knowing what you yourself meant, only that whatever it was made your heart sing.

Rhaenyra seemed to reach and read the most clouded part of your mind, obscured to even you. Her smile returned in glorious full and you felt your heart tickle in your chest. In turn, you felt your own lips quirk upwards, ready to swallow the newness of it all.

“You mean perzītsos?”

You nodded, unsure at first, but, sure in how it made Rhaenyra smile.

“Perzītsos. Little flame. You burn in me. You keep me warm,” Rhaenyra softened, then, her smile ebbing ever-so-slightly. “In the darkest moments, you keep me alive.”

Without wasting another second lost in the storm, you barreled through and crashed your lips into Rhaenyra’s. It felt like you were falling until you actually were as Rhaenyra pulled you down onto the silken sheets of her bed, and the rest was warm.

TLOU MASTERLIST

Joel Miller

Ignorance / (AO3)

Abby Anderson

What's wrong between us? - oneshot

I hope she never leaves me, please, God, you must believe me

Caitvi x fem!reader

Summary: Even though the world was ending, Caitlyn and Vi's concern for you was above all else.

Word Count: 0,8K

Warning: mention of headaches, reader doesn't like physical contact that much (only caitvi can), mention of blood, mention of violence, poly.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

Your head throbbing was the first thing you felt when you opened your eyes, followed by dizziness and blurred vision. Letting out a groan of pain, you looked at the thing that had woken you up: the door to your laboratory was open, the warm yellow light coming from outside made you see who had opened it.

The shadows of the two figures entering with hesitant steps were unmistakable. Caitlyn and Vi turned their heads in almost every direction, looking for you, apparently. You rolled your eyes.

Jayce. That nosy gossip. He was always the one behind every intrusive visit Caitlyn made to your lab.

Standing up silently, you stretched your back and walked towards them with a frown on your face.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice hoarse with sleep, watching them turn their heads towards you quickly. Vi raised her gauntlets defensively before her expression softened as she looked at you.

Caitlyn sighed in relief, walking towards you in precise steps and pressed you against her tightly, burying her pointed nose in your neck. You groaned uncomfortably and didn't return the hug. As always.

"Why did you disappear? Look at you, you look so tired." she pulled away but continued to hold you in her arms. "Why is it so dark in here?"

"I work better this way." you shrugged, then turned your gaze to Vi, who was just staring at the two of you. "Why are you wearing gauntlets? Did you come to arrest me? I haven't committed any crime."

"Negligence is a crime, in a way." Caitlyn's firm voice replied and she squeezed your arms lightly. "Are you asleep? It seems like you're not."

"I sleep all the time." you pulled away from her arms and walked back to your workbench. "Why are you acting like I died? I'm here all the time, you know that."

"Jayce told us he hadn't seen you in almost a week. We went to your apartment and you weren't there either." Vi deactivated her gauntlets, which fell to the floor with a loud thud, and walked over to you with an irritated expression on her face. "Do you know how worried you made us?"

"Did you pay attention to what you just said? It took you more than a week to realize I was gone." you joked and let out a mocking sound, which was not well received by the duo, who continued with serious faces. "I'm fine, don't be dramatic."

"You think it's funny? You're going to get killed." Caitlyn crossed her arms.

"Then it would take you another week to realize it." you scoffed.

"It's not funny! Don't you realize we're only concerned about your health?" she took a few steps closer. "Go home and take a shower and rest. Your commander's orders."

Before you could give another sarcastic retort, Vi's strong arms wrapped around you in a warm hug, she brought one of her hands to the back of your head and placed her face on your shoulder. You looked up at Caitlyn in a silent plea for help, but she just smiled tenderly.

You raised a hand and patted Vi's back uncomfortably, but she only squeezed you tighter.

"I'll only let you go if you come with us." Her voice was muffled against your shoulder.

"Okay, okay. I'll go." you grumbled, pushing her lightly. "Let go of me."

She let go of you and smiled big, earning an eye roll from you.

Caitlyn had demanded that you recover at the Kiramman mansion, of course. You hadn't gotten out of bed in a few days.

The civil war in Piltover had left a lot of damage to the city and its people. One of those damages was the heavy bleeding you had from your head after being thrown to the ground with force, hitting your head hard on the concrete.

There wasn't as much blood anymore, but the headaches were terrible. But nothing was as bad as seeing Caitlyn without an eye.

She sat elegantly in the fancy upholstered chair beside his bed and reached out to stroke your arm. Vi came in soon after, leaning against the bed frame with a glass of drink in her hand.

"How are you?" Caitlyn leaned over and brought her hand to her face, sniffing lightly.

"How do I look?" you asked, straightening up to sit better against the fluffy pillows.

"Terrible." she replied with a slight smile.

"Well, at least I didn't lose any eyes." you replied jokingly.

"Damn, I thought the explosion had knocked that rebellious temper out of you." Vi took a sip of her drink.

"You love me just the way I am." you replied.

She downed the rest of her drink in one gulp and placed the glass on the bedside table, leaned over Caitlyn's chair and kissed her gently. Then she walked past her and sat down next to you on the bed.

"You're right." She searched your eyes for approval and when she found it, she brought her lips to yours.

But you turned your face away and grimaced, "Vi, that's gross. It tastes like alcohol!"

Caitlyn let out a loud laugh and climbed onto the bed as well, lightly pushing Vi, who had a shocked expression on her face. "Mine don't taste like alcohol."

my troubled wife 🤍🙏

HEXED HEART

Ambessa x f!reader

Summary: Recently, Piltover has fallen weak ever since the hexcore stopped working, and the scientists who may have been able to fix it (Heimerdinger, Jayce, Viktor) had disappeared, leaving Ambessa frustrated. However, when she heard news of you, an intelligent scientist, possibly having the skills to fix it, she immediately took action. Even if it meant using a hint of sweet manipulation.

The remnants of Piltover smoldered under the weight of its own hubris. The once-bustling City of Progress was a shadow of itself, its streets quieter, its golden spires tarnished. The Hexcore had faltered, leaving the city vulnerable, its famed defenses useless.

In her laboratory perched high above the city, you worked tirelessly. The other brilliant minds—Heimerdinger, Jayce, Viktor—had all disappeared, leaving you to hold the fort. You were the last hope of Piltover, though the burden had grown suffocating. Every attempt to stabilize the Hexcore had failed. You stared at the latest iteration of your work, frustration and exhaustion gnawing at your edges.

The heavy thud of boots startled you from your thoughts. You turned to see soldiers, clad in Noxian red and black, entering your lab. At their helm was her. Ambessa Medarda, the warlord who cast a shadow wherever she walked. She was as commanding as the stories claimed—tall, statuesque, and radiating an aura of power that seemed to fill every inch of your lab.

She appraised you with sharp, calculating eyes, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“I’ve been watching you,” she said, her voice as smooth as silk but edged with steel. “Piltover’s lone genius. Working herself into the ground to save this broken city.”

You squared your shoulders, attempting to summon the confidence that exhaustion had stripped away. “If you’ve come to ridicule me, I assure you, I don’t have the time.”

“Oh, I didn’t come to mock you,” she said, stepping closer. Her soldiers fanned out, blocking any potential escape routes. “I came because Piltover’s failures can serve Noxus. You can serve Noxus.”

Your blood chilled. “I don’t serve anyone.”

Ambessa chuckled, low and amused. “Not yet.” She closed the distance between you in a few strides, her imposing figure towering over yours. “But you will.”

Before you could retort, she reached out, her gloved hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The touch was startlingly gentle, disarming. You stiffened, but Ambessa merely tilted her head, her gaze softening, her smile turning warmer.

“You’re exhausted,” she murmured, her tone shifting to something softer, almost tender. “This city doesn’t deserve you. They’ve wrung you dry, haven’t they? And still, no thanks. No progress.”

Her words hit a nerve, and she saw it in the flicker of your expression.

“I—” you began, but her fingers against your jaw silenced you.

“You deserve better,” she said, her voice a near whisper now. Her thumb traced the line of your jaw, her touch featherlight. “A mind like yours shouldn’t be wasted on people who only know how to take. I can offer you more, darling. Resources. Freedom. Respect.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her gaze pinning you in place. It was intoxicating, the way she looked at you—not with disdain or pity, but with something that felt dangerously like admiration.

“You just want to use me,” you said, though the words came out weaker than intended.

Ambessa smiled, a sly curve of her lips. “Of course, I do. But I’ll give you what Piltover never could. I’ll make you feel like the treasure you are.”

Her hand slid from your jaw to your neck, her thumb brushing over your pulse. You were hyper-aware of her closeness, the warmth radiating from her as she leaned in. Her lips grazed the corner of your mouth, a ghost of a kiss, before trailing along your cheek to your ear.

“Do you feel it?” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “The power we could wield together?”

You shivered despite yourself, torn between resistance and the allure of her promises. She was weaving a net around you, each touch, each word drawing you tighter.

Her hand slid down to your shoulder, her fingers kneading gently, soothing the tension that had built from days—no, weeks—of relentless pressure. You hated how easily she read you, how her touch seemed to draw out the ache you’d buried beneath sheer determination.

“I don’t… I can’t just abandon Piltover,” you stammered, though the conviction in your voice wavered.

Ambessa chuckled, a rich, velvety sound that sent a shiver down your spine. She pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her expression equal parts understanding and predatory.

“Who said anything about abandoning them?” she cooed, tracing her fingers along the edge of your collarbone. “Think of it as… redirecting your efforts. Piltover has taken everything from you. Why not take something back?”

Her lips ghosted over your temple, and you felt a strange, heady mix of indignation and desire. Every instinct screamed to resist, to fight back against her intoxicating manipulation. But her words had rooted themselves in your mind, growing like thorns around your resolve.

She pressed closer, her presence overwhelming as her other hand cupped your cheek. Her thumb brushed over your skin with a tenderness that contradicted the raw power she emanated.

“I see the brilliance in you,” she murmured. “The kind of brilliance that could reshape the world. But brilliance needs the right soil to grow, and Piltover has done nothing but starve you.”

Her lips found your jawline, a soft, lingering kiss that left your heart pounding. You hated how your breath hitched, how her words sank deeper, wrapping themselves around your doubts and frustrations like a vice.

“I could give you everything,” she whispered, her voice dripping with promise. “Imagine a lab equipped with anything you could dream of. Resources, soldiers to protect you, and the freedom to create without petty councils and politics dragging you down.”

You hesitated, your mind a whirlwind. “And what would you demand in return?”

Ambessa leaned back just enough to meet your gaze, her smirk sharp but her eyes still softened with that feigned tenderness. “Only your cooperation. Your brilliance, dedicated to something greater than this dying city.” Her hand slid down your arm, fingers curling gently around your wrist. “And, of course, you—with all your fire and passion. A partner. An ally.”

Her lips found your wrist, pressing a kiss to the delicate skin there. It was such an intimate gesture that it left you reeling.

“You’re lying,” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction.

Ambessa smiled again, her confidence unshaken. “I never lie, darling. I may manipulate, I may seduce, but I always tell the truth.” She lifted your hand to her lips, brushing another kiss over your knuckles. “You’ll see. The only chains you’ll wear with me are the ones you choose.”

You trembled, torn between the iron will you’d cultivated in solitude and the dangerous allure of her promises. Her every touch, every word, was carefully calculated, but there was a kernel of sincerity in her eyes that was impossible to ignore.

And then, her tone shifted, low and husky, her lips brushing against your ear. “Or you can stay here,” she murmured, her voice laced with a mockery so subtle it felt like silk slipping over a blade. “Alone. Frustrated. Watching this city crumble around you while you waste away in obscurity.”

The weight of her words settled over you like a storm cloud. The enormity of your failure, the futility of your work, pressed down harder than ever.

Ambessa saw the flicker of doubt in your eyes and leaned in, her lips brushing over your cheek again, her hands sliding to your waist. “Don’t think of it as surrender,” she whispered. “Think of it as liberation.”

Her lips finally found yours, soft and coaxing, her hands firm yet tender as they held you in place. For a moment, the world around you faded, leaving only the intoxicating warmth of her touch, the relentless pull of her presence.

When she finally pulled back, her smirk returned, triumphant but still laced with that maddening, feigned care.

“Take your time,” she said, stepping away as if to give you the illusion of choice. “But know this—I won’t wait forever. And neither will Piltover.”

She turned, her soldiers falling into step behind her, and the door shut with an ominous finality, leaving you alone in the silence of your lab.

Your knees buckled as you leaned against the nearest table, your mind spinning. You hated her, hated how easily she unraveled you. But you couldn’t deny the truth in her words.

And deep down, you wondered if the world Ambessa promised might be worth the price of your pride.

The silence of your lab was suffocating in the wake of her departure. You stood there, still trembling, your hand resting against the edge of your desk as if it might hold you together. You could still feel her touch, lingering like a brand on your skin, a reminder of the impossible decision she had presented.

Stay… or go?

You hadn’t realized how much you had needed an escape, how desperately you had longed for someone to see you beyond your failures. Ambessa had touched that part of you with ruthless precision. She had peeled away your pride, exposed the vulnerability that you’d spent so long burying beneath equations and inventions.

And now, you stood at the precipice of something you had once sworn to avoid.

The thought of continuing alone in Piltover, watching everything you had worked for crumble—your research, your hopes—seemed unbearable. The weight of it all crashed down on you like a ton of stone. Ambessa’s words, laced with promises of power, resources, and recognition, were beginning to sound like the only way out.

You closed your eyes, feeling your resolve slip through your fingers like sand.

Her touch had been gentle. Too gentle, and that had terrified you. She was a master at breaking down walls, and the way she had looked at you, with a mixture of admiration and something darker, had set your pulse racing. You had wanted her to touch you.

No, you needed her to touch you.

No more endless days in solitude. No more futile attempts at saving a city that didn’t care.

With a shaky breath, you made your decision.

Later that night, you stood before the door to Ambessa’s private quarters, your hands clammy, heart hammering. You’d walked here with purpose, though the journey had felt like an eternity. Every step had only brought you closer to the inevitable—an alliance forged in the heat of desperation. You knocked once, and the door opened before you could even pull your hand back.

Ambessa stood there, her expression unreadable as her eyes traveled over you.

“You’ve come.” Her voice was steady, but there was a gleam in her eyes that hinted at the satisfaction of a predator about to claim its prize.

You swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, but you refused to let it show. “I’m here,” you said, your voice firmer than you felt, “because I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Ambessa stepped aside, her lips curling into a smile. “I knew you would come around.”

As you entered, the lavish, dimly lit room seemed almost too luxurious for someone like you, but there was something intoxicating about it. The rich silks, the scent of something sweet and foreign in the air—everything spoke of power and control, the very things you had been so desperate to grasp.

Ambessa closed the door behind you with a soft click, and then she turned to face you, her eyes now intense with anticipation. “Tell me, darling… what is it you truly desire?” she asked, her voice low and coaxing.

You hesitated, but only for a second. Then the truth spilled from your lips. “I want to be… seen.”

Ambessa stepped toward you, a predatory smile playing on her lips. “Oh, I see you,” she purred. “I see you more clearly than anyone ever has.” She reached out, her fingers grazing your cheek with deliberate slowness, as though savoring the moment. “And now, I’ll make sure you’re never unseen again.”

She cupped your face gently, tilting your chin upward, and her gaze softened, as though she were savoring the power of the moment. “You were always meant for something greater than this city. But you needed a catalyst… someone to help you realize your true potential.”

Her touch was almost tender, but the undercurrent of control never left. She leaned in, her lips brushing your forehead with a softness that contrasted the fire in her eyes.

“I can give you everything,” she whispered, her voice filled with honeyed persuasion. “All you have to do is take my hand.”

A heat bloomed in your chest, rising to your cheeks, but it wasn’t embarrassment—it was the burning spark of surrender. Every part of you that had been torn between resistance and the seductive pull of her power now bent toward the inevitable.

You nodded, the words tumbling out in a quiet confession, “I’ll follow you.”

Ambessa’s lips curled into a triumphant, almost possessive smile. “Good.” She leaned in, her mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was both commanding and consuming. It was gentle at first, a slow burn that deepened with every press of her lips, every brush of her tongue. She held you with an intensity that made your knees weak, her hands roaming with practiced care, tracing your sides, your back, pulling you closer until you could feel the heat of her body against yours.

When she pulled back, breathless but satisfied, her fingers trailed down your spine, sending shivers of anticipation through you. “You belong to me now,” she said softly, her voice wrapped in a possessive sweetness. “And I’ll make sure you never regret it.”

You trembled, feeling the weight of her words settle over you, and for the first time in a long while, you realized you didn’t mind. You were hers. Completely.

In her arms, under her gaze, you were no longer the scientist who had failed. You were a tool—her tool—ready to be shaped and molded into something greater, something powerful. You had agreed, out of weakness, yes—but in that weakness, you had found something that felt like freedom.

And as Ambessa’s lips met your skin once more, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw, you wondered if this, this was what it meant to truly be seen.

If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you

Elphaba Thropp x fem!reader x Glinda Upland

Summary: Your heart breaks when you hear the news about Elphaba. It breaks even more when Glinda returns without her to see you.

Word Count: 1,3K

Warning: ANGST, mentions of spells (don't tell me), prejudice.

note: reader is a witch too.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

"I insist that you should come with me." Elphaba's deep, calm voice sounded from beside you, making you turn your head towards her.

You snorted lightly. She had been insisting on this ever since the Wizard's invitation arrived. And you kept refusing, this was her moment. Elphaba deserved this. She deserved the whole world.

"No, Elphaba." you turned on the grass, your body facing hers. "Seriously, it's going to be great. You're going to do amazingly well, as always. And he's going to love you, everyone loves you."

You had dragged Elphaba out to the field after Shiz after school ended, wanting to have a moment alone with her before she left the next day. You would have called Galinda, but she seemed too busy with Fiyero, so you just shrugged.

Your friendship with Elphaba seemed like something that was destined not to happen, since you weren't exactly outgoing and she was very closed off, always on the defensive. You didn't blame her, it was all the prejudice she had suffered throughout her life that was to blame.

"I wish someone important was with me at this... such an important moment." she smiled slightly. "Are you really sure?"

Before answering, you looked at the field around you and bent down to pluck a delicate white flower that was lying near your feet. Holding it, you turned to Elphaba and stared at her for a moment, feeling your heart swell. With a delicate movement, you took her hand and turned it over, placing the flower in her green palm.

Holding her hand gently in yours, you closed your eyes for a moment and then released her.

"Did you make a wish on the flower?" she asked, lifting one corner of her lips, her gaze falling to the small flower in her hand.

"I put my best thoughts and wishes into it." you replied, bringing your hand to her chin to tap it with your index finger. "The flower knows I wish you the best, take it with you and return it to me when you return to Shiz."

Elphaba smiled the big smile that warmed your heart and leaned in, wrapping her arms around you.

At dusk you saw Galinda's small figure open her arms towards you in the middle of Shiz's courtyard and automatically opened yours before running towards her, feeling her lift you off the ground lightly.

"Galinda! I told you not to do that, you'll end up hurting yourself." you scolded as she lowered you again.

"It never gets old for me," she hummed. "I haven't seen you since the classes ended, where was my dearest friend?"

"Your dearest friend?" you giggled and she started walking, pulling your hand.

"Don't let anyone hear." she spoke almost singing again. "I was with Fiyero, and you? Where? And with whom."

She turned to you with big, expectant eyes, squeezing your hands tightly.

"With Elphaba, I wish I had more time to say goodbye." you said simply, shrugging.

"Oh! Elphie. I wish the same, having more time to say goodbye." she said and clung to you dramatically, hiding her face in your shoulder. "My roommate is leaving."

Galinda's dramatic and over-the-top ways had previously driven you away from her, but she ended up becoming your friend when she saw you talking to Elphaba. The arrangement worked out, somehow.

"I just had a magnificent idea!" she suddenly shouted, releasing you.

"What?"

"You can live with me while Elphie is away!" she put both hands on your shoulders. "It'll be perfect! That way we won't suffer so much when she's gone."

"She's not going to die, Galinda." you laughed. "But if it makes you happy, fine, I'll live with you."

You knew it wasn't going to happen. Just like you knew Galinda would get on the train with Elphaba. Your vision was clear this time.

You saw them both walking hand in hand down the emerald green corridor, heard the wizard's voice and then your vision ended. You couldn't interfere, even though you had seen very little.

Hence the flower. A protection spell might not be enough, but it was the most you could do without interfering with future events.

Galinda let out an excited squeal that snapped you out of your thoughts and her heels began to click on the floor as she pulled you up and started running towards your dorm.

The day in Shiz was overcast after the green train had left to Emerald City. You were writing one of your sorcery lessons when your head buzzed, forcing you to groan and squint. The vision was blurry at first, and the voices were muffled, but slowly it began to make sense.

Elphaba's irritated voice rang out, followed shortly by Galinda's calm request for something from her. Her vision blurred for a moment before focusing again, this time clearer. The outlines of Elphaba and Galinda stood in front of a large glass window.

When your head buzzed again, the image that appeared was that of your friend flying in front of a group of people, who were pointing guns at her. Galinda had her back to it, hugging Madame Morrible tightly.

With a groan of pain, you opened your eyes, looking around your dorm desperately, not really looking for anything. It wasn't supposed to be this way, why were they threatening Elphaba with weapons? Why wasn't Galinda helping her? Letting those people point their guns at her?

She managed to cast a spell to fly. In the midst of the whirlwind of negative thoughts, this one at least left a hint of pride in you.

Your despair did not pass with the hours of the day and to make matters worse, Madame Morrible's announcement of Elphaba's capture only made everything worse. Your stomach ached with worry, your head throbbed with agony.

None of it was true. Elphaba was not an enemy, she was not. And there was no evil in her either. You shivered when Madame Morrible's sophisticated voice called your best friend the Wicked Witch.

Some students who were unable to contact their families remained in Shiz until the next day, and you were among them, your eyes heavy with sadness, your chest heavy with a pain you could not explain.

Sitting on one of the fancy benches in the courtyard, you didn’t bother to look up when you heard the familiar click of Galinda’s heels approaching.

"You-you couldn't go home?" her soft voice rang out in the heavy silence present. "You can go to my-"

"Get out of here, Galinda." your voice sounded hoarse, perhaps from the hours you spent crying without knowing what to do.

"Did you know that you're the only one who calls me that now? It's just that I changed my name, now it's Glinda." she tried to sound optimistic, approaching with hesitant steps. "But you can keep calling me Galinda, I don't mind."

At another time, you would have laughed and thought she was silly and funny. But not now, not after what she did.

Encouraged by your silence, she spoke again, now almost standing in front of you.

"I couldn't do anything. I didn't want to anger her. And also Madame Morrible-"

"You already have everything, Galinda!" you snapped, standing up. "You have money, you have beauty, and everyone loves you. What do you lack?! Elphaba means so little that at the first opportunity to have the attention of someone who doesn't care about you, you trade her?"

"Don't yell..." she tried to take your hand, but you pulled it away abruptly. "I don't like seeing you sad."

"How do you want me to feel? What do you think Elphie is feeling right now?" your voice broke as tears began to threaten to spill over. "You're a terrible friend."

This seemed to shock Galinda and she staggered back a few steps, her large eyes widening even further.

"You didn't really mean it." she spoke even more softly.

"I meant." you ran your hands over your face and looked at her. "I don't want you to come near me anymore. Or even speak to me."

"No..." Galinda's broken voice made you sadder, but you started walking quickly away from her anyway.

It's like a fever, I'm burning alive

Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: You discover that Rhaenyra went to King's Landing and things don't go well.

Word Count: 1,3K

Warning: ANGST, mentions of war, mentions of deaths, mentions of betrayal, mentions of child deaths, power imbalance, brief sex, nipple sucking, lesbian sex.

note: this story is new and is also available on my AO3.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

You hurriedly walked through the halls, holding the skirt of your simple dress. Your heart was pounding harder and harder and your anxiety didn't lessen when you saw one of the doors to the Queen's chambers in Dragonstone. Giving a nod of complicity to the royal guard, you opened the heavy door and looked around restlessly, looking for any sign of silver hair, but in vain, the place was empty.

Placing your hands over your chest to try and calm the pounding of your heart, you began to pace from side to side, your vision becoming blurred by the tears that began to appear. This couldn't be happening, she couldn't have been so foolish to consider doing something like that.

She went to King's Landing. Accompanied only by a guard.

The information came from Elinda and you still couldn't believe what your Queen had done. She was not the type to take risks without any reason, she made wise and coherent decisions.

You waited for hours, sitting in a place on the floor where you could hardly be seen if the main door to the rooms opened, it got dark and you only realized it when you heard the sound of the door opening. You stood up abruptly to see who it was and sighed in relief when you saw that it was your beloved queen.

Bowing slightly and approached hesitantly, your eyes passing anxiously and desperately over her entire figure, looking for any injuries, the ones she received when Ser Arryk invaded her rooms in a cowardly attack were enough. She looked at you in a mixture of surprise and relief to see you there, as if your presence was a medicine. You frowned when you noticed the septa robes she was wearing.

"Did you really do what I was told you did?" you asked, the knot in your stomach growing with each word that left your mouth. "Did you go see that snake in King's Landing?"

"I needed to talk to Alicent about the latest events, clarify things." She walked across the large room and began taking off her clothes, throwing them on top of one of the dark wooden chairs.

"To clarify?" you asked, the situation sounding unbelievable to your ears. "And what is there to clarify? She took your throne to give to her son."

"Her grandson was murdered in his bed while he slept and she thought I had ordered such a transgression." She was left with just her thin cloth intimate dress, turned to you and held her hands in front of her, twirling her wedding ring nervously. "I couldn't be at peace if–"

"Peace?!" You widen your eyes slightly, in disbelief. "I was there, Rhaenyra, I saw the procession. She was sitting as she was paraded with the corpse of her grandson, do you know what one of the court members said? They called you cruel, a monster, a defiler of the innocent. There is no peace anymore."

She sighed and sat down on the dark lounge chair, turned her face toward the large fireplace and fell silent.

"Her other son murdered your son, Lucerys was a messenger, this is treason." you keep talking. "Don't you understand yet? It's only you who cares, she doesn't care. Aegon doesn't care."

"I made a promise to my father and I intend to keep it, I will not rule with unnecessary killings and deaths." she finally turned to face you again. "Both the Dowager Queen and I have lost loved ones in recent weeks. I thought we could come together in our grief."

You sighed to contain your rising anger. Rhaenyra was too complacent, the greens wouldn't stop until they had her head to govern without her interference and she still didn't see that.

"You could have been killed." you take a few steps and lean on the wooden back of one of the chairs.

"I was careful and took one of the guards with me, no one knew it was me." she kept her purple eyes sharp in your direction.

"You must think you're so smart, but you were just a fool." you found yourself saying. "A fool who clings to the past, a past with a person who was never your friend."

"It is not foolish to seek all ways to peace!" She raises her voice, a few veins poking out slightly on her neck. "Understand me, you know me as well as I know you, don't be gratuitously hostile."

"If you act like a fool then I'll treat you like one!" you raised your voice too, gripping the wood tightly. "The people of King's Landing believe you are a baby killer, they would dismember you if they knew you were there!"

"I'm still your queen, remember that." she spat.

You felt a violent knot in your stomach and took a few steps back, lowering your head, swallowing hard and clasping your hands humbly in front of your body.

"May I go now, Your Grace?" you asked, eyes fixed on the stone floor.

"No." she replied and got up from the lounger, walking in long strides towards you.

She stopped inches from touching your body completely and pulled your hands into hers, they were warm and welcoming, as always. Rhaenyra leans in and rubs the side of her face against yours, her aquiline nose caressing your cheek, you closed your eyes and leaned against her.

"Stand by my side, I have enough people disagreeing with me, all the time." she pulled back and looked at you closely. "I don't want to have arguments with you either."

You looked down at your joined hands, the symbol of your bond with Rhaenyra. You had been by her side for so many years, you didn't want your close relationship to be ruined. You were afraid of losing her in this horrendous war, the constant search for peace could kill her.

"I got scared." You admitted, eyes still fixed on your clasped hands. "I came running as soon as Elinda told me, I was hoping you hadn't done such a thing."

"If I make a decision in the future that is risky, I will have the decency to ask you what you think first." She said and you looked up, locking your eyes with hers.

"No need to do that, Your Grace." you caress her slender fingers. "Seek peace, if that is what torments you, but do not perish along the way."

She nodded slightly and kept her eyes fixed on your face, smiled slightly and tilted her face even closer to yours.

"I miss you so much, you haven't been here often." she says, voice turning velvety.

She didn't need to say anything else, you tilted your face up and pressed your lips against hers, your eager tongue invading your dragon queen's mouth in a hurry, you kissed your lover hungrily until she ran out of air, your desperate hands tracing the slim curves beneath the almost transparent nightgown. Your mouth didn't stop when you pulled away for air, you continued trailing kisses across her face, down to her neck.

You bit and kissed her milky skin neck, and continued moving down until you reached her favorite part, but she pulled away and you looked at her in confusion.

"Not standing, to bed." she said breathlessly and you hurriedly pulled her towards the bed, laid her down and leaned on your elbows on top of her.

Rhaenyra took the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders, exposing her breasts to you. She lay down completely and looked at you expectantly. You let out a soft moan as you saw your beloved queen expose herself to you.

You leaned forward and pulled her right breast into your mouth, then pinched her nipples with your lips, your tongue grazing against the sensitive, hard nipple. She couldn't help but whimper. She put her hands on the back of your head and pulled you into her chest.

You buried your face in her breasts, you could spend your whole life pleasuring your queen.

where are the joel x platonic!reader fanfics bruh

And would you go ahead and just cry? 1/3

Jinx x fem!reader

Summary: A member of the Kiramman family who became friends with Jinx suffers some consequences.

Word Count: 1,6K

Warnings: HEAVY ANGST, mention of firearms, mention of character death, mention of bombs, mention of attacks, Jinx has a small episode of PTSD.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

next chapter >

You were originally supposed to be a pupil of Mrs. Cassandra Kiramman. An apprentice in politics and society, and a student at the Academy. It was like that, in some parts, but in others not. You didn't call her Mrs. Cassandra Kiramman, you called her mother. You didn't call Tobias Mr. Kiramman, you called him father. And Caitlyn was just Caitlyn. Your sister of heart and soul.

Growing up an orphan in the city of progress wasn't all bad, the orphanages were run by wealthy families and the orphans were taken in by them, becoming pupils and students. Some became great inventors and scientists, making the family that adopted them known for their generosity.

Cassandra took you in when you turned 12 years old, the age considered ideal for the preparation of a promising young student. She always kept a warm smile on her face, placing her hand on your cheek or shoulder, speaking tenderly.

You addressed her as your mentor for the first few weeks, but that didn't last long. Not after Caitlyn had grown so attached to you that she made you sleep in her bed every night, or after Cassandra insisted that you sit at the table with them always, and called you baby and darling, and eventually, daughter. Tobias was equally affectionate, sometimes more so than Cassandra, he would sometimes spend hours with you and Caitlyn, studying documents and drinking tea.

The years passed, the city of progress remained the city of progress, but you couldn't help but look at the city on the other side of the bridge. You always secretly read some records about the Undercity, about the toxic air, the needs of the people there. Although you now belonged to one of the richest families in Piltover, and had the surname Kiramman proudly registered on your documents, you focused your studies and projects on improving the quality of life of the people in need.

Caitlyn had recently been appointed enforcer, and was almost obsessed with an investigation to find the perpetrator of the attacks in Piltover. After she showed up at the mansion with that pink-haired girl, Vi, you decided to follow them to Zaun, in secret, of course.

That's how you met Jinx, your newest friend.

"Jinx!" you called loudly, trying to make your voice go over the loud sound of her speakers. You groaned a little at the weight of the bag you were carrying on your shoulder. You walked over to the speakers and hurriedly turned them off. "Jinx, my beauty."

"Don't you see me here?" she asked cheerfully, turning to face you, her violet eyes covered by goggles.

"I brought some more stuff, I hope it'll be useful." You walked over to her counter and placed the bag on top with a loud thud.

She got up quickly, unzipping the bag in a hurry, putting her nimble hands inside, taking out some objects and bringing them close to her face to look at.

"Well, you're welcome." you rolled your eyes playfully.

"Thank you!" she was on you in seconds, wrapping her arms around your waist, one of her legs passing over yours, as if she wanted to hook herself onto you. She let go of your arms and pushed you down onto her bench, quickly grabbing the equipment she was working on from the desk, straddling your legs with a playful, almost manic look on her face. “You’ll like the new one.”

"What is it?" you look at her expectantly. She arched her eyebrow and smiled even wider, then placed the device at eye level, making you frown. "This?"

"What do you mean 'this'? It's my new bomb, I told you!" she exclaimed happily, rocking on your lap. "It's going to release the butterflies."

"The butterflies that explode?" you asked and saw her nod, then scoffed. "Hm."

"Why are you so down? What kind of friend are you?" she jumped off your lap, placing the object on the table. "I was happy when you said you covered the sewers."

"I didn't cover the sewers, Jinx, I put a physical barrier in the sewers in addition to the fans, so it's safer to breathe." you crossed your arms. "And I also improved the quality of the fans."

"Hm." she imitated you, crossing her arms.

"Hm." you chuckled, pulling her towards you. "I'm kidding, the bomb is cool."

"I know!" she exclaimed loudly, letting out a laugh.

Some time later, you were lying on one of the giant propellers, with your leg hanging over the edge. You took a deep breath, feeling your stomach churn. You turned your face to look at Jinx, who was babbling about something nonstop.

"Jinx."

"Huh?" she stopped talking and looked at you, still smiling.

"I need to tell you something."

You explained, told her everything, your origins, your family, the orphanage. She reacted well up to a certain point, but she became violent when Caitlyn's name was mentioned. Pointing her gun at you.

"And you're just telling me this now?" she says, her voice hoarser than usual. "Traitor. You fooled me so well."

"Jinx, you are... my friend." you speak cautiously, brow furrowed in concern. "You are my only friend, I wasn't trying to deceive you. I didn't mean to make you angry."

"Yeah, but now I'm angry. I'm really angry." she raised her voice, her eyes widening slightly. "Go tell your sister where I am, she's coming after me."

"I'm sorry, I won't say anything. I would never say anything, I would never put you in danger." you took a step closer to her. "I love you."

"Liar." she said, then used her free hand to pull her hair. "Shut up!"

"Jinx..." you called cautiously, knowing about the fits she had sometimes. "It's okay, I'm here."

"Liar..." she said, gasping a little, finally lowering the gun, collapsing to her knees on the floor, her hands still pulling her hair tightly.

You walked over to her, bending down and lightly touching her pale arm. She lifted her tear-stained face, looking desperate.

"I'm sorry..." she sobbed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Don't cry, please." you bring your hands to her face, gently wiping away her tears. "Don't cry, it's okay."

"Don't leave me here, don't leave me." She threw herself at you, squeezing you tightly.

"I won't."

Caitlyn testified at the council, or what was left of it. Jinx. The one responsible for your mother's death.

A day passed. Then another, and another. You spent the days in your room, staring at your mother’s blue and gold pistol, which was now yours. Caitlyn was lost in grief, coming up with a plan to get Jinx. But you knew it couldn’t be Caitlyn, it had to be you.

Breathing hard, with a headache from the tears you were holding back, you walked the path you knew so well and soon arrived. The pink and blue amidst the gray of the giant propellers. The music wasn't playing this time.

You walked closer, your hand aching from the continued grip on the pistol. You spotted the blue braids from afar.

She turned her pink eyes to you and knew. She knew the moment she saw you. She got down from the couch she was curled up on and tried to get closer, her big eyes shining brighter than usual, her brow furrowed in concern.

"I-I didn't know, I was—" she stopped talking when you raised the pistol towards her eyes.

"I don't give a shit," you said through gritted teeth. "Caitlyn said you caused that attack."

She remained silent for a while, her hands hanging at her sides, her breathing shaky.

"That reminds me. Maybe you were still mad at me because of Cait." you said, swallowing hard.

"No, no, I swear." she shook her head repeatedly. "Even though you're the thing I care about most, it wasn't because of you. I didn't mean to hurt you... I'm sorry."

"My sister wants to kill you, she's coming after you. But I knew it couldn't be her, it had to be me." you said, your grip on the gun wavering.

"Alright, it's you." she said, raising her hands in the air. "I won't try anything. I swore not to raise my weapons against you, ever again."

Your hand shook, the headache growing, your heart beating faster. You took a deep breath, tears starting to fall.

"Why did you do this, Jinx? You ruined everything." you sobbed, your brow furrowed in sadness.

"I always ruin everything." she muttered softly, lowering her face, her blue bangs covering her expressions. "I'm sorry."

"My mother was there." you said. "My mother is dead now."

"I wasn't thinking straight." she muttered. "I didn't know, I didn't want to, I was in pain. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

You were both the same now, shaking. Jinx kept her hands in the air, you kept the gun pointed at her. Breathing hard through your tears, you sobbed, your finger on the trigger, threatening to pull.

Breathing harder, you groaned through your tears, tears falling freely. With a loud grunt, you threw the gun to the ground, covering your face with your hands, crying loudly.

"I can't, I can't, not you." you sobbed. "Not you."

You heard Jinx's heavy boots against the metal and soon felt her slender body pressing against you, her arms pulling you towards her. She pulled your hands away from your face and placed kisses on your lips.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she murmured in that desperate tone. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

You sighed and hugged her back, feeling her press herself closer, the kisses getting stronger. Placing your hand on the side of her face, you caressed it lightly and pulled her in, sinking into a real kiss.

She looked hungry now, sucking hard. You placed one hand on the back of her neck and pulled her face away. Looking into the pink irises, you could see genuine regret.