#And she will have everything she's ever dreamed of.

[coldfanbou]

In Heat

Here we go! So I ended up going with the winner of the poll...mostly because where I live also went through a heat wave, so yeah. Anyway, here we are with some hot and heavy stepcest action...literally and figuratively

Length 2.8K

Eunbi X Mreader

Life was very hard right now, despite everything you and your family tried. The heat wave running through the area was unbearable in its own right. What made it worse was having to watch your stepmother walking around the house in her bikinis, day after day, she would be around in them. Her heavy bust had nearly spilled out more than a handful of times as she moved around the house. You could hardly look at her; you would get hard in seconds, staring at her perfectly shaped body. You didn’t say anything, though; it wasn’t your place, either, considering this was her home, too. Still it was a problem you couldn’t so much as leave your room without catching a glimpse of her bending over to pic something up, showing that perfect ass of hers off. 

You had dreams about her, about your father’s wife. You wanted Eunbi. She was absolutely beautiful, and those bikinis she wore left little to the imagination. 

You peeked out of your room, and with no Eunbi insight, you went to the kitchen, hoping to get something cold to drink. As you searched through the fridge, you heard her. “Honey? Can you get me something to drink, too?” Honey, that’s what Eunbi called you. It was weird enough to hear her call you, considering she was only a little bit older than you. Add in the fact that she was also your stepmother, and it was weirder. That being said, knowing that she had called out to you, you grab a bottle of water for her and head toward the living room.

Walking in, you see her in another bikini. Eunbi was lying on the floor, sweat running down her face and legs, just as slick from the sweating she was doing. You paused, taking in the sight before you, Eunbi had her legs spread, you could just see the blue of her bikini bottoms poking out from under the white skirt she had on. Her breasts were bulging out of the top of her bikini top. You were getting hard quickly, and it would be tough if she spotted that. You shake your head and walk over to her, placing the bottle beside her before turning on your heel, ready to walk out. “Honey,” you pause, hoping she didn’t see your bulge. “Do you think your father is going to come home soon?”

You breathe a sigh of relief, “I don’t know Eunbi. He always goes on these sorts of trips. Sometimes he comes back in a day or two, and other times it’s like a month.” You say honestly. 

“Right,” Eunbi responds, dejected. “I knew he would be gone for work a lot, but I didn’t think it would be this lonely. Do you want to play a game? I could use the company.” There was a hint of hopelessness in her voice, and as much as you didn’t want to be in the same room with her for fear of her seeing your bulge. You also felt bad for her. You saw the relationship they had firsthand, you heard about how your father would stop his trips and finally settle down again, but since the wedding, he’s been gone more than ever. You understood how Eunbi must feel, being told one thing but then getting the opposite. 

“Sure, what kind of game did you have in mind?” You turn around, sitting as quickly as possible, trying to avoid staring at Eunbi’s heavy chest. You focus on her face, seeing a slight smile form as you accept the invitation. 

Eunbi purses her lips as she considers what game to play. She rolls onto her stomach, crawling over to the TV stand, searching through the drawers. You can’t help but stare at her ass, it shakes from side to side as she looks. It was shapely, and your imagination runs wild. You imagine what it must be like to take her from behind, feeling what must be the soft piece of flesh pressing against you as you drive yourself deep into her. 

Eunbi kneels, finding a game she thinks would be good for the two of you. She turns herself around and places the box in front of you, Jenga. “This should be a little fun.” She says, a slight smile on her lips. She lifts the box and begins setting up the game, block by block. “It’s been so hot, hasn’t it?” She says, her eyes glued to the growing structure. 

“Yeah, it’s been pretty hot.”

“I’ve had to wear my bikinis in the house. It’s insane we don’t have air conditioning; these fans aren’t helping either. Eunbi sticks her tongue out, focusing intently on the tower, making sure no piece sticks out. Sweat moves down her neck, running between her heavy mounds. Your thoughts go wild again as you imagine lapping up the sweat between her tits, the moans she would make a response fill your ears for a moment. Your cock twitches as you think about it. You shake your head and push the idea out. 

Eunbi finishes setting up the game and looks up at you, noticing where your eyes were. A slight blush moves across her face. “The game's ready. Do you want to go first?”

“Uh, no, you should go first. You set it up.”

“Okay,” Eunbi looks at the tower and nudges a piece from the very bottom, pushing it out slowly until she’s able to reach around and pull it out. The shake shakes slightly, but there isn’t a threat of it falling yet. Switching to your turn, Eunbi eyes you while you focus on the game. She scans you up and down, noticing the bulge in your shorts. More than shock, there was intrigue. Whether it was because of the heat messing with her mind or loneliness, Eunbi felt a pang in her chest. She squeezed her legs together and stared at the outline in your shorts. “Bigger,” she thought to herself, biting her lip. 

“There we go,” you call out, grabbing the piece you pulled out. 

Eunbi shifts her focus onto the game. She leans forward, giving you a look into the valley between her mounds. She only realizes what she is doing as she glances at you, noting how much you are staring at her chest. She pulls another block out, placing it back on the top of the tower. 

It was back to you. The game continued with both of you staring at the other when it wasn’t your turn. The desire each of you held for the other was growing. Eunbi, at one point, had removed her skirt, saying it was getting uncomfortable. It was difficult to concentrate with Eunbi in her bikini before, but now that you had an unblocked view of her shapely legs, it was another beast entirely. Eunbi noticed your cock twitch as you stared at her body. Seeing the reaction pleased her. She was craving more, her mind began to imagine how big you were, and it was getting her wet. Still, you both played on piece by piece, and the tower became more unstable.

The tower was becoming unstable, threatening to fall over at any moment. “How about we make this a little more fun?” Eunbi asks, a teasing smile on her face. 

You wonder what she means, “More fun?”

“Yeah, interesting might be a better word. How about the loser takes off a piece of their clothing?” She says boldly, almost confident that she would win. 

“I- that’s kind of…”

“Are you afraid you might lose to your mommy?” Eunbi teases, sticking her tongue out at you. 

“Okay, you’re on.” You reply, your competitive spirit stirring in response. You watch the tower intently. It was a mess of missing pieces, the middle pieces almost completely gone. You spot your target, though, one section already had one of the edge pieces taken, you would take the other, leaving a single middle piece to hold up the tower. You make slight taps to the piece, nudging it out of place before tugging it out and carefully placing it back on top. 

It was Eunbi’s turn. She glanced at you before turning her eyes to the tower. “You know I haven’t lost a game in a long time.” Eunbi wasn’t after a win, at least not in this game. She picked her spot, going for something risky. She licked her lips, waiting for what came next. Looking at the level where you just took a piece, Eunbi was going to “attempt” to flick the last piece out, getting rid of one level entirely. The confident look on her face had you convinced she’d be able to do it. Eunbi’s smirk faded as she smacked her hand against the block. The tower fell down one level, shaking before it collapsed. It was all going to plan. She sighed at the loss and placed her hands on her bikini top. “I guess I lost.” Without any sort of hesitancy she tugged at the bottom of her bikini top, her tits bouncing in their confines before she finally brought it over her mounds and released them. You were stunned, unable to look away from her perfect breasts as they bounced in front of you, a slick and glistening mess from all her sweat. Your cock was harder than ever. “A deal is a deal.” She said, twirling the bikini top around her finger. “Are you proud of looking at your mommy’s tits? Hmm?” 

You couldn’t speak or do anything—the sight before you completely envelops you. Eunbi chuckles and bounces, so her tits shake and jiggle for you. “Well? What do you think? Want to touch them?” Eunbi said, pressing the issue. She crawls toward you and takes your hand, bringing it close to her chest. “Do you?” She pauses, her thumb running across your palm. “Do you want to touch mommy’s tits? Because there’s something I want too.” Eunbi places her hand on your crotch, moving her hand along your clothed bulge. You gulp, never expecting to be in this situation. You don’t even notice your hand moving forward, until you feel her soft tits rubing against your palm. Eunbi bites her lip, containing her moan before smiling. She reaches into your shorts, her bare hand wrapping around your shaft. 

“E-eunbi,” you groan. 

“Shh, Honey, I need you.” Eunbi leans in, pressing her lips against yours. “I know it’s wrong, but it's been so long and seeing you so hard…” You will weaken, and you return the kiss, your hand squeezing Eunbi’s breast as she pushes you onto your back. Your hand slide down her sides, sliding underneath her bikini bottom as you grab her ass, fingers digging into her soft flesh. Eunbi moans into the kiss, allowing your tongue to explore her mouth. 

Nothing can stop either of you. Eunbi wanted you with her entire being. Her hand moved along your shaft quickly. She pulls your shorts down with her other hand, springing your cock free. She glances down, eyes widening for a second as she sees your size. The shock is replaced by satisfaction; you are bigger than your father, just as she had thought. Her hand squeezeds your cock, making your grunt and drawing a bit of precum out of you. 

You release your grip on Eunbi’s cheeks and move out, grabbing the sides of her bikini bottom and pulling them down. Eunbi kicks them off on you get them to her knees and sits on your pelvis, your cock rubbing against her slick folds. “I can’t wait any longer, Honey,” Eunbi moans. She rises and aligns herself with your cock sinking onto it in an instant. It’s a shock to your system just as it is for Eunbi’s. You both throw your heads back, whether it was finally getting the release you both wanted, the taboo of fucking your family, or something else you both came at that moment. Eunbi’s body tingled as she felt your cum shoot inside her. She had forgotten what it felt like, and she wanted more. 

Eunbi grinded against you at first, rocking back and forth causing your cock to rub against her walls but her body wanted more. She placed her hands on your chest and squatted over your, slowly rising before slamming herself back down onto your cock. “Keep going, Eunbi,” you groan, holding onto her waist and guiding her along your shaft as you thrust into her. You watch her tits bounce as she gets into a rhythm, sweat running down her body. You lean up, sticking your tongue out and running it between her heavy tits, lapping up her salty sweat before moving over to one of her nipples.

“Oh, wait baby,” Eunbi moans as she feels your mouth surround her sensitive nipple, your tongue swirling around the hard nub as you suck on her tit. Eunbi cries out from the pleasure, her moans getting louder as you switch to the other breast. 

She continues to ride you, her body growing weaker as you both move closer to another orgasm. “Eunbi,” you grunt. That was enough to tell her you were getting close, even if you hadn’s said a word she would’ve figured it out sooner or later, your cock was throbbing inside her again. Eunbi had to give up her squat position and ride you normally, giving you the position to grab her waist and thrust into her for the final few moments before you both were taken to heaven, rocked by intense orgasms. Eunbi collapses on top of you, breathing heavily. You tilt her head and kiss her. Your sweaty bodies felt like they were melding together. 

“That was amazing,” she says breathlessly.

“I can keep going, at least once more.” Eunbi nods and gets ready to ride again. “No, I want you from behind.” You lift the young woman, moving her beside you. Eunbi lies flat on the floor, her strength gone from the previous two orgasms. Just as well you had always imagined fucking Eunbi into the ground. You run your hands along her body, stopping at her ass and giving each cheek a squeeze. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought of this, Eunbi,” you whisper into her before aligning with her cunt. You push yourself back into the welcoming hole, stretching out your stepmothers pussy, pushing your cum out of her as you go deeper. 

“Deeper, baby. Make me cum again.” Eunbi feels your body weight against her as you push deeper. Her eyes twitch in their half-lidded state. Fully buried inside your stepmom you pull out and slam yourself back in, your pelvis pressing against her soft ass. The experience was better than you had imagined. You lost yourself nearly instantly, beginning to thrust into Eunbi like a wild beast.  “Fuck! Fuck me! Fuck your dirty mommy!” Eunbi screamed. You snaked your hands under her waist, lifting her ass up and giving yourself a better angle. You slam into her ass with every thrust, both of your minds melting into nothing as claim Eunbi. You hold Eunbi up with one hand, using the other to her clit, pressing it and making her get closer to cumming. Eunbi roars as the pleasure floods her body, she backs her ass into you, wanting you deeper as your cum spills out of her onto the floor. “Oh fuck!”

Eunbi curls her toes as she’s rocked by another orgasm, her entire body shakes before collapsing onto the floor with you on top of her, your cock buried inside her tight cunt, filling her with another load of your semen. You rest on top of Eunbi for a moment before rolling off of her. Your cum pours out of her staining the hardwood. Neither of you cares, though; the experience was like nothing else. Your bodies desire more, and if it weren’t for the exhaustion, the two of you would’ve continued to go at it like rabbits. 

You don’t know how much time passes before your strength returns and you're finally able to get up. Eunbi was in the same position. As you both get to your feet, you look at each other, wanting nothing more than to have sex again. Your body is tingling with excitement. Eunbi reaches out and grabs your cock, her hands rubbing the creamy mess. “I want you to ruin me every day. We can’t tell your father about this, but just know that I am all yours.” You tilt her head back and kiss her. Eunbi raises her leg to your side, and pushes your cock back inside her warm cunt. 

You spend every moment you can with Eunbi from morning to night, the two of you revel in each other’s bodies, having sex all over the house, marking each space as somewhere you’ve done it. Even when your father comes back, you find a way to sneak in a few rounds, but the time apart fuels your need for each other, and the moment he leaves for another trip, you claim his wife.

[two-bit-socrates]

I've got two neuro D hacks to share - schizo/psychosis/unreality/catastrophic thinking edition

do you struggle with the idea that thought crimes may actually be real? or struggle with maladaptive emotions? afraid someone will read your vent notes and not understand the context? My hack is to write as if 1000 years from now anthropologists will find my journals and notes and be so damn thrilled with everything that i have written and I try to offer as much info as possible which helps me short term when I'm someone else and i need information from my previous self. What's the future anthropologist gonna do about my thought crimes? Punish me posthumously? Woo big whoop

Magical thinking is my friend and here's why

with the help of learning to reframe things and viewing everything through an artistic interpretive lens I've been learning to ride out harder moments in life that fuck with my brain by embracing the magical thinking through dream interpretations and card/rune/dice divination while double book keeping every day life as I learn subjects and skills to manage and thrive with my brain. Like my cptsd is always going non stop, picking everyone and everything apart but i can use tarot cards and creative skills to look for multiple meanings in whatever im struggling with until i can make my way out of the problem.

That said it can come off to others like you're cold reading people for exploitation depending on what you're talking about so be prepared for that if it comes up. I stopped doing readings for others a while ago cause people kept getting weird with me about it either thinking im a psychic or a charlatan and it's like no im coping and im trying to help you cope too.

But yea if you've ever read the golden compass and how she reads the different layers on meaning into the compass it's like that except I just keep digging until the intensity passes and I find peace again.

So if you struggle with social interactions i'd recommend keeping the divining and dream exploring to your self unless you feel okay with the person asking you for a reading or dream analysis.

[loovser]

the guy she was interested in wasn’t a guy at all - chapter 5

synopsis turns out the cute guy from the cd store is actually… a girl.

wc: 3.1k

cw: smut, oral (r!receiving), scissoring, choking, cursing, overstimulation, pussy slaps (hehe), spitting, there’s fluff too i promise, they love each other omg i love them, ellie is such a loser :( until she’s not 🙂‍↕️ i think thats all plus its the last chapter so… enjoy!

when she reaches the last chords, ellie lets them hang in the air for a little longer, because she really doesn’t want this moment to end — and neither do you. not when you are looking at her like she’s everything you ever wanted. not when you remind her how you truly see her.

there’s a moment of stunned silence before the rooftop erupts into claps and whistles. not because she was perfect — she was, to you — but because she was real. raw. someone shouts “yeah girl!” and she flushes hard, tugging on her shirt nervously even though she is already walking off the tiny stage.

your heart hammers painfully against your ribs as she makes her way straight to you. her eyes never leaving yours. you just know dina and jesse are somewhere in this crowd grinning like two idiots. but you can’t keep thinking about anything else as she stops right in front of you.

staying seated, frozen in your place, you stare at her. how her guitar is hanging from her shoulder by a worn strap. how the soft glow of the rooftop lights catches the tiny tear streaks still shining on her cheeks. your fingers itch to wipe them off.

ellie bends down a little, so you are eye-level and scratches the back of her neck. you hold back a giggle, flashing her a sheepish smile instead. she’s so cute. her voice is so quiet, only you can hear it over the buzz of people around.

“hi…” she says and you swallow thickly, throat sore from all the emotions you’ve been facing today. she shifts her weight awkwardly from foot to foot, clutching her guitar pick tightly in one hand. “i know you’re mad. i- um.. i wanted to show you that i’m sorry. that… it was never a joke to me. you’re not a joke to me.”

the words land heavy between you two. you bite your lip, looking at her. the hurt in her face as she makes clear that she was always serious about you makes you realize that your assumptions were right. she’s been suffering too.

ellie ducks her head a little. “you don’t have to say anything. i just needed you to know. that’s all.” and she turns, ready to leave, giving you the space she thought you wanted.

but your hand shoots out before you can even think about it, grabbing the hem of her deftones shirt. you knew she wore it because it’s your favorite band.

she freezes, looking at you with wide, green eyes that shimmer under the lights.

you pull her just a little closer, voice trembling. “will you be gone in a day or two?” you watch how the corners of her mouth tug into a smile. you are referencing the song she sang to you.

“only if you want me to.”

you roll your eyes, because it’s obvious that you don’t want that. "...you’re such an idiot."

and before you can chicken out, before you can overthink it into oblivion, you pull her face down into yours, your lips crashing into hers eagerly. ellie’s surprise crumbles as she melts into the kiss. you couldn’t care less if anyone else is seeing it. it is the moment you have been dreaming of for days.

it couldn’t be more perfect. the feeling of your lips against hers making her let out a soft whimper, almost like a plea for more. you smirk against her lips and she takes this as an opportunity to deepen the contact, her tongue slipping on your bottom lip, seeking entrance.

almost instantly, you let it in, relishing at how she explores your mouth like she’s been craving it. and she has. all she can think about is how you taste so good on her tongue. all she can focus on is how your kiss makes her lose her mind. how your mouths were made for each other. how your body fits hers perfectly, like the missing star to her constellation.

and when you both reluctantly pull back, she swears you can’t look prettier than now. your face so close to hers, lips swollen and cheeks flushed. you smile at her as she admires you and she feels like she’s in heaven. you feel the same. it’s like everything you went through these last few days finally make sense.

“is that a yes to us finishing our project together-” ellie mumbles out, shyly.

“yes. yes, ellie, we will” you grin, cutting her off mid-sentence. she gives your lips a tender peck as you both chuckle.

after walking you home and giving you a goodbye kiss, both of you decided she would go back to your place the next day.

and that’s where you are right now, as she sits on your bed and you are listening to her talk about savage starlight. ellie tells you the dumbest jokes that somehow still make you laugh. maybe because her laugh is contagious. or it’s due to the fact that she’s so silly that you can’t stop giggling around her.

“you know… i made something for you. yesterday, before i went to sleep.”

“oh?” her cheeks turn pink and you realize the innuendo on your sentece.

“you are such a perv” you tease, laughing “it’s nothing like that. i just… well you noticed i have deleted the playlist i made, right?”

“yeah, i cried over it. a lot. does this have anything to do with the fact you followed me again on instagram yesterday?”

“kinda? i regretted it, so i was… fixing it.” you shrug and she smiles “so, i made another playlist. not for miller… but for you, ellie.”

her smile gets wider and softer and you can’t help but smile back at her. it’s so good to finally be able to really feel everything you feel for her and be close to her like this.

“you did?” she asks, softly and you nod. “can we… um, listen to it together?”

“i’d really like that.” you hand her your phone, the playlist on the screen.

ellie takes her time to see it. the name of the playlist being her name. the full, real one, no nicknames or made-up stuff. just her and the songs you carefully chose for it. she is so happy she could cry. the way you make her feel is overwhelming in the best way possible.

she takes a deep breath and presses play. ‘motion sickness’ bye phoebe bridgers starts to play faintly. “i’m really sorry… about lying to you. i never meant to, i just- i got scared of telling you the truth because i thought you wouldn’t like me if i wasn’t a boy”

you get closer to her on your bed, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. she looks up at you and you can see how tormented she was being by her own thoughts.

“it was really confusing for me too, honestly. i’ve never felt so interested in someone before and suddenly i was interested in two people? that made me a little crazy.” you chuckle, watching her. “i mean, not confusing bad. just… new. for me. but whenever i was with you… it didn’t feel confusing. it just felt right.” you bite the inside of your cheek. “i didn’t know what that meant. or if it meant anything.”

ellie is quiet for a moment. then, softly: “it means something to me.” you meet her eyes.

“it means something to me, too. i figured it out when we stopped talking. that i was actually… relieved that these two people were you. and when i saw you on the rooftop i just knew that i’m really in love with you.”

“i am in love with you, too. you already noticed that,” she laughs and you smile “but it feels so good to be able to tell you.”

ellie kisses you. this time, it’s even deeper. like she is finally pouring all of the feelings she has been keeping inside of her for months, since she just admired you from her seat during your shared classes. it’s different from your first kiss. more intimate, more passionate.

her lips move against yours hungrily. with need and want. her hands grip your waist tightly as yours cup her face. the way her tongue easily slips into your mouth and how she is exploring your mouth is making it hard for you to keep your composure.

suddenly, she breaks the kiss, gasping for air. “shit — our paper”

“you’re gonna pretend you can focus on a VFX breakdown right now?”

she laughs. “i can multitask, you know.”

“i’d like to see that.” you are still breathless, your thighs brushing.

for a moment, you just stare at each other. her eyes roam your figure, gaze darkening as she looks back at your face. she can’t hold it in anymore.

“you know what, fuck this VFX project. i have other ways of showing you how i can focus on two things at the same time.” she murmurs, voice low and teasing as she hovers over you.

“how are you gonna do that?” you bite your lips as she pushes you onto the mattress.

her thighs are caging you in between her legs as she leans down to your face, stopping a few inches away from your lips. “you’ll see”

surprising you, she starts kissing your neck. she nips at it, sucking and licking. then biting. she is marking you, claiming you as hers. its sends a wave of heat straight to your core and you can’t stop the moan that escapes your mouth.

she smirks against your skin, proud of stealing that noise from you. her kisses trail down to your collarbones, teeth grazing in your skin. her hands roam your sides, under your shirt, making you shiver as she continues to colour your skin with dark hickeys.

“take it off…” you murmur, hand in her hair.

and she does, looking up at you, her eyes piercing through yours, slowly going down as she takes your shirt off. no bra. her pupils are blown like she’s looking at the prettiest thing she’s ever seen. you don’t think you could ever forget about it. and neither does she.

“you are so fucking pretty” it’s all the cinnamon-haired girl is capable of saying, before her mouth is all over you.

the multi-tasking is proven right when she gives attention to both of your tits at the same time, sucking and licking one while her finger plays with the other. you can only whimper, as you tangle your fingers into her hair.

with her free hand, she unbuttons your pants, pulling them down and finally backing away a bit, so she could take her time to look at you. how could you just get prettier and prettier as she discovers all these new sides of you?

you hair is messy, cheeks pink. the marks she left on your body sends a shiver down her spine. you feel hot under her gaze, the heat pooling in your stomach in a way that almost makes you beg her to touch you. she finishes taking your pants off, positioning herself in the middle of your legs.

ellie plays with the waistband of your panties and just her touch brushing your hips makes you bite back a moan. her heart is beating so fast she can feel it in her throat. its too much. she needs it, needs you. “how much do you like these?”

you frown “my panties? they are not my favorite-“ the sound of the thin and lacy fabric being ripped cuts you off. you gasp. did she just…?

she literally moans at the sight of you, jaw slack, like she’s overwhelmed by just how much she wants you. ripping the rest of your underwear off, she throws it away at some forgotten corner of your room. her fingers slide through your glistening heat “fuck… you are so wet already”

as your hips bucks forward to meet her face, she smirks. your eagerness makes her feel even more aroused, having you squirming on the spot just by teasing you is driving her crazy. “so impatient, baby. i’ll give you what you want.”

she spits in your clit, her gaze never leaving yours as she licks it, making you moan. your hand flies to her hair again, trying to ground yourself somehow as she starts to eat you out. it’s like she’s been starved for you this whole time as she messily sucks your sensitive bud, tongue exploring your folds and spreading your slick and her saliva all over your cunt.

her chin is dripping with your arousal but that’s the least of your worries right now as she relishes in your taste and pleasures you, whimpering into your pussy like she’s the one that’s being pleasured.

“shit, els, don’t stop”

ellie wouldn’t be able to stop even if she wanted to tease you. she’s already addicted to you, to your taste, to the way you sound when she’s in you, to how you struggle to keep looking at her. your taste, your smell… it’s too fucking good. her own hips grind into the mattress as she seeks some friction to relief the aching between her thighs.

it just pushes you closer to the edge, seeing her so desperate to give you what you want and also not being able to control herself. it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, her green eyes fixated on you as she slides her tongue inside you. your toes curl and she can feel your walls clenching around her pink muscle. the noises she is making mingle with yours and sends a vibration through you that is too much too bare.

you can’t even warn her when your orgasm hits, body shaking as she drinks all of your juices, not sparing a single drop.

“i need you so bad, god” she strips out of her clothes clumsily as you catch your breath.

your own arousal blossoming all over again as you watch her getting closer to you. her slim figure, toned arms, perked nipples… her fucking happy trail and little bush. it all makes you crazy. she smirks as you stare at her, positioning herself on top of you, her cunt aligned to your own. her lips crashes into yours in a searing kiss, you can taste yourself on her tongue as she pushes herself down against you.

she is rough with it, in a way you didn’t imagine. but you fucking love it. the way her hand grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling it hard. your head tilts back, but you can’t keep your eyes off of her. not when she’s on top of you. not when she’s looking at you like that. not when her hips buck against you, her pussy kissing yours just how you like it.

hearing your high-pitched moans is enough for her to know that you are in complete ecstasy, but she can’t help yourself when she asks “can a guy fuck you like this? hm?” her voice even rougher due to the pleasure. you almost cum right there, hardly managing to keep it together as you moan louder. it’s so hard to talk.

your fucked out expression is driving her insane, the way your eyes never leave hers. but she wants you to say it. her grip on your hip loosens as she guides her hand to your neck, fingers closing around it, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you feel dizzy. fucking hell.

“come on, you can do better than that f’me. answer” she pants, the feeling of your throat bobbing against her palm making it almost impossible for her to not make a mess on top of you. she squeezes it and you gasp.

“n-no, fuck, els. only you” is all you manage to get out from your system, breathless, as she takes her hand back to your hip and starts moving her cunt faster against yours.

the squelching wet noises mingling with your moans and her whimpers making everything sound even more pornographic. “mmmph yeah, that’s it. this pussy is all mine” she groans.

her swollen clit rubbing against yours in a friction that makes you spiral. the way her grip on you tightens as she keeps you right where she wants you, it’s definitely gonna leave marks. she’s once again claiming you as hers and you let it. because you are.

it’s like she’s a starved woman, devouring you with her eyes as she sets the perfect pace to make you roll yours. the sight of you like this is one she will never forget, carved into her memory forever. she just wants to keep making you feel like this. you look so good under her.

“just one more, baby. i know you got it in you,” she presses herself against you, stopping for a moment just to give your clit a few slaps, relishing in your wetness and the whimper you let out as she does. “fucking give it to me”

“shit, i- i’m gonna cum, ellie” you moan out and she can’t get over the way her name sounds on your lips. she goes back to riding you, the angle somehow getting even better than before.

“let me feel you cumming all over me, make a mess baby” it’s all it takes for you. the overstimulation from the previous orgasm makes this one hits you even harder, legs shaking as your slick gush against her, crying out her name over and over, like a prayer.

her hips bucking faster and in a sloppier way as she rides it out, chasing her own orgasm that comes right away. she grunts, giving a few more rolls as she creams all over your cunt. her face when she cums is so slutty you swear you could reach your third climax just by looking at it.

she collapses on top of you and you chuckle breathlessly, your hand stroking her sweaty hair gently. “you’re mine”

“i am. and you are mine. where the fuck did you hide all of this?” she laughs as you ask.

“that’s only for you to see”

“good… you know you are kind of deserving to smoke that weed you gave me with me.”

“oh, am i?”

she chuckles, looking at you. and when she kisses you deeply again you know that you are going to be seeing a lot more.

happy mother’s day!! we reached the end of this series guys thank you so much for the support and for reading it! i hope you liked it 💘 i am already working on some other things, buuuuut feel free to request any theme you’d like me to write about! also thank you so much for the 200 followers, i love you all MWAH

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Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 6: I Stray Not From The Path, I Hold Death’s Hand In Mine

Masterlist Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 (Here!)

Head wounds tend to heal relatively fast. 

All due to the ample blood supply in the head and neck region. The abundant blood flow helps deliver the necessary cells for tissue repair and regeneration. The healing time can vary based on many factors, like wound size, depth, and individual health.

Large and deeper wounds potentially heal up to 2-3 months.

Maximoff’s wound didn’t even leave a scar or trace on her skin.

The butler, Alfred, had mentioned being of help to the young girl the first day until she claimed being able to take care of cleaning the wound and changing the gauze by herself once he explained the steps one by one. She would do it every morning after waking up and after taking her nightly shower, before heading to bed.

But even with a strict cleaning routine, a head wound like the one she had shouldn’t have healed so quickly. 

Especially in only 5 days.

“Someone certainly has some impressive genes…” Rio muttered offhandedly, pretending to be very busy with her files as she took a seat at her desk.

The looming glare from the girl sitting at the examination table had the green witch holding back her grin.

Everything was falling into place.

There was no reason for the girl to come for a check-up directly to the police station. Much less likely to get a check-up from Rio. The Wayne family had their private doctor and were way more capacitated than a nurse with basic paramedic training and a doctor title, mostly directed towards cadavers and autopsies.

Well, that was just her cover story. No need for mortals to know the personification of Death was playing dress up for funsies.

Either way, the only reason her Wheel of Fortune would be here, it would be if she had requested or demanded that she be brought to Rio herself.

She certainly caught on to things quickly, unlike her bothersome twin brother. Even if she had some otherworldly help, Rio had to give her some credit.

Which led to the current tension in the office that was currently occupied by the two of them. The butler was off talking with the chief about some new development in the investigation of the attack.

Red Hood had left almost nothing to identify the bodies with. Rio retained her bubbling anger by dumping the files into her hand on the desk with a controlled sigh.

Endless Above, the Waynes were a thorn on her ass.

Good thing her cards on the table were placed along quite fast.

“Where is Billy?”

She was straight to the point, too.

That wouldn’t do.

“Why would I know?” the woman drawled, spreading on her chair will looking at Maximoff with a raised eyebrow.

Maximoff’s face was all frowned up, the corner of her lips curling in frustration and impatience. Rio thought she looked like an angry puppy about to start yapping and barking at her feet while shaking. Almost like a chihuahua.

That made her laugh sharply, startling and confusing the young girl.

“Ask the right questions, pet. That may get you the answers you need.”

The shiver of disgust at the nickname amused Rio to know end. Getting under people’s skin was such an entertaining show for her.

“...Do you know who I am? What am I?”

Rio could work with that.

“I am familiar with your family’s history.”

The girl gave her a deadpan expression. “That’s the most vague shit answer I ever heard off.”

“Take it or leave it,” she shrugged.

With a roll of her eyes, Maximoff sighed and shrugged in defeat. Might as well ask other questions then, right?

“Fine, then. Who are you then? Because I’m pretty sure you know something that I don’t about the Addams Family on steroids.”

“Ah, the Waynes,” Rio’s tone was sarcastic and low. She got up and stood in front of Maximoff, who listened attentively.

“They have been messing around with things that they shouldn’t, and it’s time for them to pay me back.”

“...So, you are like, mafia or something?”

“Not quite. The mafia still manages to keep up with their parts of my deals.”

That got Maximoff thinking, her head tilting to the side as her gaze moved up to the ceiling in thought.

Yeah, she was just like a puppy. She could now see why Agatha was so entranced with the other Maximoff.

“So,” the girl said while her nails clicked fastly against the metal table. “the Waynes owe you something, and you have it out for them?”

“Seems almost too simple, right?” A grin crept on the witch’s lips. She could almost see the gears turning in the girl’s brain.

Maximoff groaned, scratching her cheek as she tried to piece stuff together.

“You told me to keep a ‘low profile and trust my gut’,” she complained in a higher pitch tone while gesturing around with her hands. “And all that I got from that was meeting a bunch of unstable men who don’t seem to grasp emotional intelligence to save their lives, and way too touchy. And that’s without counting the horror tapes from the poor girl whose body I’m possessing while her spirit-”

Her rambling had sped up halfway through, words turning into a tongue twister for any person listening. It was fascinating for Rio to witness how the girl’s mutation was developing without her even noticing, blending in with such normal things like talking or moving around, and making her stand out easily. But the abrupt stop put the room in a sudden silence.

By how wide her eyes were as she looked at her, Rio could easily guess Maximoff had figured something out.

She remained quiet, waiting for her to find the words.

Maximoff pointed at her, eyebrows furrowed,” You knew her? The Wayne girl?”

“We never spoke directly, but I did know her. And heard her.”

That wasn’t a lie.

“Then this whole owed deal it’s related to her? Or most of it, at least.”

Seeing how such a young being pieced together the bits of small information she had at hand was very pleasing to the witch. 

It had crossed her mind before. The thought of taking on an apprentice. It had crossed several times, and there were very few candidates she had considered worthy (with the very exception of Agatha, of course). 

Only one had been oh so close to be hers by sacred ritual. A deal made by a desperate mother, looking to protect her child from Rio’s own hands.

A child who was hidden from her by none other than Bruce Wayne.

The room’s temperature grew colder at the thought of said man crossing her head. He had cheated her over and over and over and over and over and she had had enough.

Rio took a deep breath through her nose, brushing away the bangs on her face to disguise her slip of control.

“I don’t like it when somebody messes with my deals,” she said with a sickly sweet tone, starting to pace around the room.

“Bruce Wayne and his flock of little birds have been getting away from me with a little too much for my liking. And because of that, I have decided to hit him where it hurts the most. A man like him craves control. He is paranoid and needs to know all the possibilities at the palm of his hand, just so he can have the high ground in any given situation.”

She sharply whips her head back, a loud crack of bones startling Maximoff as Rio gives her a maniacal, wide smile over her shoulder. Her sharp black nail pointed at the girl, sauntering towards the metal table.

“Which is why you, my dear wheel of fortune, make the perfect piece in my chessboard table to make him suffer.”

Maximoff looked at her as if she had spouted pure nonsense. Which it probably was for her, since Rio looked like a madwoman with a chaotic glint in her eyes.

“And why should I be involved in this? I didn’t exactly choose this body.”

“True. You didn’t. But your brother did.”

That made her click her mouth shut and glare harshly at Rio. The woman inclined forward so they were eye to eye, smiling with a sharp edge at the corner of her lips.

“It’s nothing hard to do, just being yourself is doing more than enough to make my plan fall right into place. I only need you to be a tiny little less instigating and let them overthink it by themselves. And, of course, a couple of little favors that only you can help me out with.”

“Are you going to kill them?” Her tone was somewhat small and quiet. Worried, as to say.

How sweet. But that wouldn’t do.

“Sadly, no, I can’t,” Rio took notice of the tension slightly leaving the girl’s shoulders. “The Waynes are vital to the balance of this city, and I can’t mess with that. But I can make them miserable. As retribution.”

Maximoff hummed to herself, never looking away from Rio’s gaze as she thought of what to say next. Their visit was coming to an end, and she needed to get her answers quickly. Or at least, some of those answers.

“What favors would you need?”

“Just some old items that the mother of this new body of yours has entrusted to Dear Old Bruce. And anything that spirit that keeps hanging around you asks you to do.” 

Maximoff gasped and looked around her before looking back at the amused ‘doctor’.

“You can see h-”

“Tick tock, pet. Last question.” That made her curse under her breath as she gave a quick glance at the door. Footsteps coming up the stairs were echoing outside the office. Maximoff looked at Rio with a reluctant air around her.

“If I do your favors,” she said quickly, standing up from the table and facing Rio directly. “Will you tell me where Billy is and help me find him?”

Rio laughed, crossing her arms as she took in her firm stance. Decision and steel in the girl’s eyes and posture.

Oh, she was keeping this Maximoff.

“Don’t you worry, pet.” She teased with a less sharp smile. Maximoff frowned.

“He will come directly to you.”

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

“Would that be all, gentlemen?” 

The sharp tone coming from Mr. Wayne had made the business associates look at one another in silence. The air was so tense in the meeting room that it made some of them fidget with their ties, swallow back coughs, and sweat beneath their hair implants.

A poor intern glanced nervously at his boss every 5 seconds, hoping the meeting would be dismissed sooner rather than later for the sake of everyone’s nerves.

Bruce Wayne had not come to Wayne Enterprises in a good mood.

The meeting had been scheduled with two months of anticipation. Worthington Industries had made several business proposals to ally with Wayne Enterprises in a series of funded research projects involving medical substances that have yet to be discussed. First, they had to do some research around said company, avoiding getting involved in any type of scandal before making any decisions. Then, they would weigh the pros and cons of agreeing to the proposals before deciding to come to an official meeting with the Worthington Industries CEO.

All the documents and research had been done thoroughly, and there were more pros than cons surrounding the proposals. Everyone was expecting a positive outcome from the meeting.

But Mr. Wayne’s mood had dampened any ray of hope.

As to why he was in such a mood?

That would have to do with breakfast that very morning with his daughter.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

It had been an uneventful morning. At first.

After Bruce had made sure Tim was sleeping in his own bed without any type of electronic nearby, and that Dick had gone to Barbara’s apartment to get some space to calm down for a bit away from the supposed chaos among the walls of the manor, he was eating his own plate of scrambled eggs that Alfred had made for him in the stove before he left to drive Damian to school.

Apparently, she had slept in for a bit longer, and Alfred would come for her once he had dropped Damian off.

He had gotten distracted by the sudden breakthrough of the case. By the time they finished downloading files from the hospitals and clinics around the area, Bruce was pretty sure everyone had retired for the night.

Meaning that this very morning, he would finally get to see his daughter after days of putting back the said encounter.

The feeling of patheticness loomed over him, making every bite of his food taste as bitter as his cup of black coffee.

He would never admit it to himself, but Bruce was anxious.

Would she be upset he hadn’t checked up on her? She was always so understanding and sweet. At least, that's what he had gathered from their past interactions. Perhaps he could let her stay at the manor another week if she wasn’t feeling like going back to school.

Was she scared of going out, too? He had read the police report over and over again after Dick had shoved it right into his face while yelling at him for not keeping a closer eye on her safety.

He could only imagine the feast the media would have once the information about the attack became public. The press following her around, the school getting swarmed, the flashes of camera invading her space, and making her have another public meltdown.

Maybe considering homeschooling wouldn’t be such a bad idea-

The scraping of a chair against the floor dragged him out of his head, gaze landing on the other end of the table. Far away from his spot.

She was wearing a green jacket and some dark bell-bottom jeans. A clean gauze stood on the left side of her head, which led to noticing how her hair was pulled back in what seemed like a butchered braid with some wavy curls slipping out and framing her face.

Not a single hello. Not a single good morning. Not a single glance his way.

Just the clicking of the fork against the plate as she ate from a huge pile of scrambled eggs as if she had been starved for weeks.

Bruce suddenly understood why the boys were freaking out.

(Y/N) was a simple, well-mannered, and polite. Always greeting, always offering help, and always looking for ways to be close to them. No matter how many times they avoided or ignored her efforts and advances.

If Bruce were by some chance eating at the table, she would take the spot right next to him and try to start a conversation before he excused himself under the guise of needing to finish some work.

And another thing was how impeccably she dressed. Business casual and hair down, not a single strand out of place.

Before him was the total opposite of what his daughter was supposed to be.

He cleared his throat, hoping to catch her attention since she was way too focused on her food.

She didn’t look up.

“Dear?” he questioned. “Do you feel alright?”

His breath got caught in his throat once her gaze snapped up. Making eye contact for the first time in days.

Before him stood the reflection of a woman he had failed to help and keep safe. Dark, soulful eyes staring deep into his own and making him fall back into that dreadful night, where he was too late to make a difference. Where a child lost a parent and gained a mediocre imitation of one. Where he lost another important person in his life. Where he failed a friend.

Where his daughter lost her mother.

“Quite late to be asking me that, don’t you think?” she grumbled, shoving her fork full of eggs into her mouth.

He had to take a quick sip of his coffee, feeling his throat tighten and trying to speak up at least.

“What happened to your contacts?” was all he managed to utter out. He would later realize that was not the best thing he could have said.

Those dark eyes were suddenly sharp, and Bruce could only see Bianca glaring at him as if she was ready to knock him off his seat.

“You sure you want to go down that line, Father?” 

The way that she said father had him standing up from his seat, knocking the chair down to the floor, and making a clutter of noises around the room.

“Young lady, that’s not a tone you will use with me.”

He had hoped that would make her back down. Go back to the sweet girl he swore she was, because there was no way that she had changed this much. Not in the blink of an eye.

Was it though? Had it been the blink of an eye? Had it really been that fast? When was the last time they actually talked? When was the last time he had spent more than a few minutes with her? 

Listened to her talk about school. About her classes. About her hobbies. Her aspirations in life. What she liked. What she disliked. Favorite foods. Favorite movies. Favorite books.

When was the last time Bruce had even hugged her?

His expectations were broken the moment she slammed her fork against the table and got up from her seat, gaze unwavering and lips pressed tight.

Before she could get another word out, two sudden presences caught their attention.

Cassandra stood by the entrance of the kitchen, with Alfred giving a heavy stare over at Bruce.

Without a second thought, the younger girl picked up her now-empty plate and gave it a quick wash in the sink. Ignoring the owlish stares from Cassandra and Bruce. Once she was done, she looked directly at Alfred with an undefined gaze from Bruce’s perspective.

“I’ll wait in the car.” She said, getting a nod from Alfred as she passed between him and Cass. The other girl gave two steps back as she followed her retreating form down the hall with her gaze.

Bruce began walking towards them. “We are not finished-”

“I believe,” Alfred cut him up both verbally and physically by stepping in front of him. “This is a good moment for everyone to have some space to think things through before escalating the situation in a way that there’s no coming back from.”

“Alfred, I need to-”

“You need to get to an important meeting and give her some space, Master Bruce.”

That got him a deep sigh from Bruce, who impatiently rubbed his chin before nodding at Alfred.

“Good. Now, if you excuse me, I can’t keep the young lady waiting.” With that, Alfred was gone.

Cassandra only looked back at Bruce once she was sure she heard the car pull away from the garage. He was looking at the empty chair where she had been sitting not too long ago. A look full of what Cass could gather as despair and confusion. It unsettled her a bit, seeing him like that.

But, she still said a few words to Bruce before walking away.

“That was on you.”

And Bruce knew she was more than right.

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

His mind was stuck on that encounter all morning.

His child couldn’t have changed so drastically like that. Was it a new tactic to get his attention? Because it was working extremely well. But it didn’t make sense. His dear daughter was nothing but good intentions and wouldn’t even try to argue back with him. She didn’t even fight back with Damian, and most of the time, he had to intervene himself so it wouldn’t escalate (at least when he was present). 

That hit on the head had altered her personality, and Bruce wanted his old daughter back.

It had to be that damned wound, it couldn’t be anything else. There just wasn’t another expl-

‘But there is.’ A whisper shot through his head, making him tense up.

…There was a very small alternative. But it couldn’t be. It didn’t work like that at all. He knows it.

Even if mental illnesses can be hereditary, that one couldn’t be. There were too many factors that came into play with such a condition, and he had made sure she hadn’t been exposed to any type of heavy trauma. Keeping her at an arm’s length away from his night job and all the repercussions it brought along.

But had he actually protected her enough? Did keeping her away actually prevent any trauma that could affect her personality?

No, he hadn’t.

And now he had a huge problem in his hands.

“Call to organize a meeting with Mr. Worthington as quickly as possible for negotiations. Meeting dismissed.”

Almost everyone let out a breath of relief once Mr. Wayne walked out the door with a hurried step.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

It had been such a shitty day.

First part, finally meeting the man behind this whole family madness. She was hoping to get away without interaction. Just eat her breakfast, dip, and hide in the garage so she could avoid encountering any other member of the family until Alfred came to pick her up. It was a picture-perfect plan, in her mind at least.

But her first mistake had been sitting too far away from Dear Old Bruce. 

Apparently, this family was so obsessed with order and patterns, that they would have freak out if she even stepped out their imaginary drawn lines. Wayne had giving her a splitting headache as punishment for not putting that much attention to those details after she had stormed off towards the garage.

To which she responded by swinging fists at empty air before Alfred caught up to her.

‘Fuck their order and patterns. I ain’t their little doll they can manipulate around.’

That thought put her ghost companion in silence, making the headache slip away as they drove to the police station.

In the second part, the chilling interaction with Rio. Jesus, that woman could make the bogeyman sweat. She had hoped to get some answers out of her, and while she got some, she left with even more questions. And, apparently, got dragged into a messy deal with said crazy lady in order to get at least some information on where Billy was.

As long as she found the items that Rio claimed were owed to her.

Items, that she had not a fucking clue of what they were.

The only bit of information that she had was that the mother of this body (she really should start referring to the body as her own, it was getting annoying) knew about said items and their locations. Which meant that Wayne, her dear grumpy ghost bestie, would also know about these items since she would visit her mother every two weeks.

It had been served on a silver platter. All that she needed to do was ask Wayne!

But that silver platter had been thrown into the Bermuda Triangle when Wayne apologetically flicked the bathroom lights of the thrift store Alfred had taken her to give her boxes of clothes away in denial of knowing about said items.

All because her mother was in a state of delirium and mania. Meaning that any word coming from the poor woman wasn’t coherent or trustworthy.

Another dead end.

Which leads us to standing inside the record shop beside the thrift store. Gaze lost in deep thought, facing a rack of vinyl records of the pop genre, as her fingers flicked through the albums mindlessly with a frown on her face.

Just when she thought a door had opened, another ten appeared in the next room.

Rio wasn’t exactly someone reliable. Something in the back of her head was inclined to think she wasn’t even human. All the vague shit and weird mannerism seemed more than act to unsettle people. If it was an act, then she was very committed.

Still, she wasn’t to be trusted. Not when she was keeping her so in the dark.

The new information she had was still in pieces and needed to be put together with delicacy and patience, or something could slip, and she would end up even more lost than she already was.

That didn’t stop her from trying to overthink it.

‘If the deal had to do with Wayne, why would her Old Man not keep a closer eye on her? Rio is pretty hellbent on getting her stuff back if she is making me pull my weight around to find it. Does he even know her mother made a deal, or was he the one to make it? It wouldn’t make any sense if he did it, though, because then he wouldn’t have just left Wayne go around without some bodyguard.’

She pursed her lips, fingers rattling the record stand by how fast she continued to flip through them.

‘Hell, he never stopped by to check in the bedroom or even bother to pick her up at the police station. There’s no way he knows about this. He doesn’t care enough, clearly. What kind of a father acts like that around his daughter?’

Her nails began to scratch off the chipped black paint of the metal from the stand, switching her weight from leg to leg as her mind sped up in circles.

‘What parent does that? Where’s the warmth and care? Where’s the concern? Where’s the love in his actions?’

Teeth began pulling at the fragile skin of her lips, almost peeling it off. A high-pitched ring was going by her ear.

“My parents would never do that. My mom would make hell on earth to protect me. To protect us. Where is she? Is she dead? Is she gone? Where is she? Where is my mom? Where is my dad? Where? Where is my family? I need them. I want them here. HEre witH ME. HERE. HERE. HERE. HERE. HERE. WHERE ARE THEY-”

“Did Cher do something to offend you?”

A voice snapped her out of it, startling and making her jump, while looking to her side towards the person who spoke to her. 

It was a guy. Just about a few centimeters taller than her, with a well-built body. Light brown hair that seemed almost ginger when the light hit just right. Blue eyes with concern and an awkward smile, dimples showing off his faint freckles over his cheeks.

He took a step back to give her some space once she looked at him down-up, giving an apologetic smile as he gestured to the record she was holding in her hands.

“Sorry for that! Just saw you almost ripping the record in half and thought that I should say something about it.” He fretted gently, hands shoved into the pockets of his denim jacket.

She looked down at the item and realized he was right. The plastic was torn off, and the edges of the record were already crumbled under her still-fidgeting fingers. 

An embarrassed groan left her throat, covering her face with the crumbled record.

“I didn’t notice. I got lost in thought, ugh,” she urged, pulling down the record with a red face.

Great going, girlie. Now you are a criminal.

“It’s alright, I get lost in thought too!” he quipped back with a stammer and an awkward laugh.

Which plunged into an awkward silence.

Awkward enough to be contagious and make her snort a laugh as well. And making him snort as well. Both of them were laughing before calming down from the tense moment. An easy, friendly air was going around them, making her feel some weight off her shoulders.

She really needed that.

“I have seen you around, at school,” he commented. “We actually take class together, but we never actually talked before.”

That got her attention. 

“Oh, yeah. I usually prefer my own… company.” That last part sounded very similar to a question.

The boy nodded in understanding. “No judgment! I can only imagine how it is for you.”

She rolled her eyes with a snort, moving back towards the records. She could only imagine how public the fact was that Wayne was the least liked amongst her own family. That doom scroll through Twitter last night was very enlightening.

“Wait! I didn’t mean it like that,” he sputtered, with a wide look, realizing how wrong his words sounded out loud.

She let him squirm for a few moments, glancing from the corner of her eye as he tried to stammer an explanation and apologies, before grinning at him. Making him stop talking and shut his mouth.

“I was just teasing. Chill out,” she trailed off, motioning at him to introduce himself.

He nervously laughed, offering his hand for her to shake.

“I swear, I have manners.” His tone was lighter, making her smile as she took his hand for a quick shake.

It caught her off guard how cold his skin was.

Almost as cold as pure ice.

“I’m Robert. Robert Drake.” He smiled brightly. “But I prefer Bobby. It’s what my friends call me.”

Bobby Drake

The young girl nodded, pleased at finally getting a name from the first friendly person of her age. A soft warmth invaded her chest.

“Well, Bobby,” she teased, making him chuckle as he took a place beside her. “Mind helping me out, hiding this broken record and picking a new one before I get banned from this place?”

Bobby hummed with a mocking tone, pretending to look busy by flipping through a few records while she waited for his answer.

“Well, I’m in desperate need of a friend and a lab partner for science class, soooo,” He drawled while giving her pleading puppy eyes.

Now it was her turn to act all busy, before nodding pleasedly.

“You got a deal, then.”

“Oh, thank god. Because I couldn’t let you walk away with that monstrosity in your hands. Do you like Chappell Roan? It doesn’t matter. I have to amend your sins one way or another.”

A friend.

She had made her first friend.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Westchester County, New York - 9:30 PM

Charles Xavier had been holed up in his office for the past two hours. There were documents all sprawled around his desk, all meticulously studied and organized in a way that was only for Charles’s thought process.

Another child had disappeared. A mutant child.

The child was on the list of possible candidates for the school. Their mutation has recently awakened (being able to go through walls and different surfaces). A very fascinating mutation, but still overwhelming for a teenage girl who didn’t understand what was happening.

They had scheduled a home visit with her parents a few weeks back, both of them willing to find the help needed for her daughter’s new development.

Then, she disappeared. Just like the other three children.

A pattern was made. And Gotham City was the hunting grounds.

“Professor, am I interrupting?”

Xavier lifted his head and smiled at the young man at the door. He opened the door wider with a small nudge with his mind.

“Come in, Scott. I was just searching around.”

Scott Summers clicked the door closed behind him, making his way towards the desk with a worried frown.

“No updates yet?”

The professor shook his head, rolling back in his chair and going around the front of the desk to be side by side with one of his oldest students.

“Unfortunately, not yet. Our ‘investigator’ just got settled in Gotham this morning.”

That made Scott grumble under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest and making Xavier give him an amused look.

“Why send him? You know how unstable he can be, and this situation is very delicate.”

“I need you here, Scott.”

The young man gave him a side eye under his red-tinted sunglasses.

“Ororo would be more suited for the job than he.”

Charles shook his head, moving his chair towards the glass-stained window that gave a view of the front yard of his mansion.

His home. His haven. His school for his children.

His children, who were taken away before knowing they were more like them. A place where they could belong.

“The students can’t know something is wrong. It will upset them, and Miss Monroe’s presence is required to keep peace and calm in the mansion. You know she is almost like a mother to the student body. We can’t take that stability, not from them.”

Scott remained quiet, moments passing before nodding with a sigh.

“Fine. But if the Batman finds out a feral man is running rampant amongst his city, I am not saving his hairy ass.”

Charles knew he was bluffing.

But he let him be. For now.

Because he was dreading the moment a certain metal bender found out about this.

And Charles knew that would be a nightmare to deal with.

˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖—》✧《—˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖˖

Author's note: SURPRISE SHAWTIES!!!! Longest chapter up to date and with SO much information because we are finally moving foward!!! I wanted to get done with the introductions of the batfam an most of them are almost done ( I haven't forgotten about Cass and Jason, don't worry.) But we finally have Bobby with us! I was so excited to write him because i love him to bits. He's my golden puppy and I will make you guys love him. We're also back with the Saturday/Sunday updates every week! Let me know what you guys think of this chapter or theories you have in the asks or comments. I love answering! Lots of hugs and love, GG✨

Tag List:

 @bat1212 @kneelforloki @1abi @galaxypurplerose @yhin-gg @cxcilla @momentomoribitch @stargirl404 @initial-ari @welpthisisboring @icefox8155 @bunniotomia @alittlelostmoonchild @devotedlyshamelessdetective @shycreatorreview @nirvanaxx1942 @soulsire @ryuushou @rinkydinkythinky @lithiumval @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @cssammyyarts @lordbugs @ilovecoffe0 @kore-of-the-underworld @fortunatelydifferentqueen @vanessa-boo @livingund3ad @aelxr

Bonus Memes:

[manzuaves]

ɢᴏᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴘᴏᴘᴘɪɴ ᴘɪʟʟs (ᴀɴᴅ sʜɪᴛ)

pairing. f1wag!manon x f1driver!reader

warnings. mentions of substance use. curses. lwky cheating that's it.

Monte Carlo, Monaco, 2025.

You were indulging in the opulence of the Monte Carlo lifestyle. You were the newest rising star on the grid, and this was your first ever GP in Monaco, signed under Scuderia Ferrari. To say the least, you were pretty much nervous. Especially when the view from your million-dollar hotel suite stared straight down at the grid.

Outside, the city pulsed with legacy and wealth. Classic Monte Carlo. But inside, there was you. A hardworking kid who only got here because of pure passion. Not wealth, not last names, not family friends with sponsors. Just grit, long nights, and a go-kart your dad kept alive with duct tape and prayers.

Your overlooking view made you see how different your life was from these people. The Mediterranean Sea contained yachts that looked like floating mansions, each one a symbol to old money and older power. The balconies were filled with champagne flutes and designer sunglasses. Brands you used to only see in magazines now hung casually on the shoulders of people who’d never had to check a price tag.

You pressed a hand to the giant window glass of your hotel suite. Somewhere out there, mechanics were prepping your car. Somewhere out there, your name was printed on the Ferrari garage wall. But inside, it was just you and the quiet weight of everything you’d sacrificed to stand here.

The old you, the kid from a two-bedroom flat who spent weekends fixing busted engines, wouldn't believe it. Wouldn't believe the view, the hotel, the red suit with the prancing horse stitched on your chest.

But even with all that, you didn’t feel like you belonged. Not really. Not when everyone around you made luxury look like second nature.

You'd still prefer cheap wine over their thousand-euro champagne, a late-night take-out from McDonald’s over whatever they served on yachts. You still checked price tags out of habit. The heavy Rolex on your wrist felt more like borrowed time than status.

You reached for the pill with hands that shouldn’t have been shaking. You didn’t know if it was habit, desperation, or survival at this point. Maybe all three. But you knew the feeling that came after: the slow, spreading calm, like slipping into water just warm enough to forget how cold the world had been.

Your eyes closed, just for a second. And in that second, you saw it. The life you’d once dreamed of. The roar of the crowd. Your name on a race suit. 

And when you opened your eyes, the dream was real.

Below, the grid pulsed with life. Cameras flashed. Revealed your infamous orange-and-black rival stepping out of his car, immediately engulfed by media and attention.

But it wasn’t him who made your breath catch.

It was the woman at his side.

Manon Bannerman.

She clung to your rival like she was built for the cameras. Her lips were red, her sunglasses oversized, her posture elegant and lethal all at once. The world moved around her, but she moved like the world belonged to her.

She was everything Monte Carlo epitomize: wealth, beauty, scandal. But to you, she was something more dangerous than any of that.

You knew her in ways your rival never could, in places no cameras had ever caught.

And that was the problem with Monte Carlo. It had a way of blurring lines. Yet she was the only line you saw clearly. And the only line you kept crossing.

Everyone expected it. You ended the GP night with a spot on the podium. Not first place, but not bad for a 22-year-old like you. You hadn’t beaten your rival, but it was a good start to your career. The crowd cheered, your team celebrated, and the press didn’t waste any time, jumping on the chance for interviews and congratulations.

People kept inviting you to the after-party at Amber Lounge, but you weren’t in the mood for any of it. Tonight wasn’t about the spotlight or the champagne. You just wanted peace.

Your phone buzzed constantly. Your family, back home, had flooded your messages, especially your father. You’d decided to reply to them tomorrow. Right now, you just needed a break. You were about to activate Do Not Disturb when a notification popped up on your screen.

dont reply: hey! congrats, champ. can i come over?

You stared at the message for a moment. Of course it’s her, you thought, your mind flashing back to the last time you two had been together. The temptation was undeniable.

You: i didnt win manz. anw arent u spposd 2 b celebrating w yk who?

dont reply: lol, he’s grown. i think he can handle himself.

dont reply: so?

You hesitated. The pull between you two had always been impossible to ignore, even when you knew you shouldn’t give in.

You: ugh. fine

dont reply: i’ll be bringing your fave wine and takeout. 🍷🍟

The clink of wine glasses echoed in your marble suite. Manon sat on the couch, clad in a plain oversized shirt, old pajama bottoms, and her hair tied back like it was any other night.

This was the only version of hers that only you get to see. No designer heels, no red lipstick, no flushbulbs painting in her gold.

You placed your wine glass carefully on the rare wood table, the liquid swirling inside as you took in its deep, rich color.

The metallic taste of the alcohol now soothed you. You didn’t even like it the first time you tried it. It was too bitter and too pretentious. But now? Now it slipped past your tongue like second nature. Like everything else that used to feel foreign before you got good at pretending it belonged to you.

“Gosh, this brings me back.” she murmured, tugging your usual order out of your hands to sneak a bite. Her half-eaten cheeseburger sat forgotten on the table as she reached over to steal a handful of your fries. “You still eat like your seventeen.”

You laughed, wiping the side of your mouth with the back of your mouth. She looked at you with plain disgust that she used to always wear whenever you ate like you haven’t seen food in days.

“You’re so uncivilized, Y/N.” She said, shaking her head but there was no real bite behind it.

“Sorry, rich kid,” you shot back, mouth half-full. “And you keep stealing my food, so maybe we’re even.”

Her eyes darted to the ketchup still clinging to your mouth that you failed to wipe off. Without thinking, she leaned in and wiped it away with her thumb gently and deliberately.

Then with that same efortless boldness only she could pull off, she brought her thumb to her lips and licked it clean.

She caught the way your eyes followed her every move, and the flicker of attention only made her bolder.

“Still so messy.” She murmured, her smirk curling like it knew exactly what it was doing to you.

The room felt smaller to you. Warmer. Like the air had thickened.

When the heat crept up your neck and settled low in your stomach, you reached for the little bottle on the table like its muscle memory by now. You let one rest beneath your tongue, closing your eyes for a beat as the familiar weight pressed down just enough to steady you.

Just enough to keep her from unraveling you completely.

When you opened your eyes, she was staring at you. Frowning.

“I thought you stopped that.” She said quietly.

And that was when it hit you, how familiar this felt. How it mirrored a different night, 5 years ago, when you were seventeen, and she was still the girl who tasted like wine she wasn’t old enough to drink and talked like nothing in the world could hurt her.

You remembered her frowning then, too.

But that time, it was over a half-empty bottle of cheap painkillers and a race you thought you’d never win.

And for a second, it almost felt like seventeen again.

South Garda, Italy, 2020.

“Fuck!”

It was the fourth time your kart had sputtered out halfway through practice, and the frustration was boiling over. You slammed your gloves down on the steering wheel, jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

From the corner of your eye, you saw your dad sprinting down the pit lane, waving his arms like he could will the damn thing back to life. Sweat clung to his shirt, darkening the fabric, but he didn’t care, not when it came to your kart.

You pulled off your helmet, the heat and anger mixing with the weight of disappointment in your chest.

“Again?” your dad huffed, already crouched beside the engine. “This thing’s gonna kill us, kid.”

“It’s alright, dad.”

You looked at the sky like maybe the clouds could answer for all of this.

The clouds felt so far like the dreams you swore you’d reach, even when the world kept telling you otherwise.

Then an angelic, familiar voice called out from the fence.

“I told you to stop naming it after your exes,” Manon teased, arms folded over the track barrier, her Chanel sunglasses sliding down her nose.

Your dad chuckled at Manon’s comment, shaking his head as he wiped his hands on an oil-stained rag.

“And you, Manon, get out of the sun. The heat’ll kill you and your dad’ll kill me after.”

But Manon, like the headache she so proudly was, simply pushed her sunglasses up her nose and didn’t move an inch.

“I’m not a kid, Bill,” she said with that lazy grin, like she knew exactly how far she could push before anyone would stop her.

You caught her smirk as she climbed over the barrier anyway, sticking out like a sore thumb amid the grit of this poorly managed track. Her designer clothes so expensive it felt like even the dirt was too intimidated to touch her.

She didn’t feel like she belong there, not really. But she was there for you, anyways.

“So what, Y/N?” she said, walking toward you with that careless sway only she could pull off. “Are you just gonna sit there and cry about your kart, the one you named after your ugly ex, or are we actually gonna hang out after this like you promised?”

You stared at her, half-annoyed, half in awe because even when even when the sky felt distant, she made it feel like something you could reach.

The kart was dead for the day, your dad grumbling under his breath as you helped him roll it toward the trailer, sweat darkening the back of his shirt. He gave you a tired nod before glancing across the lot where his real job was waiting.

Manon’s family car gleamed in the sunlight, black and sleek and so clearly out of place in this dusty karting circuit. Her father was waiting for your dad to fetch him some place in South Garda you’re too broke to be familiar with.

Your dad wiped his hands and jogged over, falling into his other role: the one that paid the bills. Driver. Assistant. Sometimes mechanic, sometimes errand boy. Whatever they needed, he became. Because that’s how you afforded the dream.

“I’ll come back for you, kid. I’ll just fetch your father.”

Manon just gave your dad a lazy thumbs up. Like she wanted him to leave the two of you alone already.

Once her family’s sleek black Cadillac disappeared down the hill, Manon reached into her oversized designer tote comically out of place against the grime of the paddock and pulled out a crumpled paper bag of fries. Then, like it was the most casual thing in the world, she revealed a half-wrapped bottle of wine.

You immediately recognized the label, one of those expensive vintages you���d only ever seen in the wine magazines her dad left scattered around the Bannerman property.

Your eyes widened. “No way. I’m not drinking that. That bottle’s probably worth more than my entire kart!”

Manon just smirked, already working the cork loose like she did this every weekend. “Exactly why we’re drinking it. Papa won’t even notice. He doesn’t drink red.”

You watched, half-horrified, half-impressed, as she reached into her bag again and pulled out two mismatched plastic cups. The kind you’d usually rinse out and reuse during long weekends at the track.

“Your sommelier, m’lady,” she teased, pouring the deep red into one and handing it to you like it wasn’t a crime against luxury.

You took it, still stunned. Fries in one hand, a wine worth a month’s rent in the other.

Once the metallic taste of the alcohol hit your tongue, you winced. It was unfamiliar and sharp, nothing like the sweet sodas or watered-down iced tea you were used to. You looked at the cheap plastic cup in your hand, then at Manon, who was already taking another sip like it was juice.

She laughed when she saw your expression. “You’ll get used to it,” she said, nudging your knee with hers. “It’s an acquired taste. Like me.”

You snorted, trying to mask how fast your heart was racing, faster than you could ever drive your kart. You didn’t know it then, but she was right. About the wine. About her.

And about how two kids from entirely different worlds: one born into grit, the other into gold, were somehow casually enjoying the time of their lives in the middle of a dusty paddock. Sharing cold fries and smuggled wine like the world wasn’t waiting just outside the barrier, ready to split you apart the moment it noticed.

Back then, nothing tasted right like it was all just waiting for you to acquire it, to grow into it. Yet something it still felt right.

Especially when she leaned over, brushing the salt from your lips with her thumb before pressing hers against yours in a kiss.

Her kiss tasted like the expensive wine you were drinking: rich, heady, a little dizzying. A kiss that overwhelmed you in the quietest, most dangerous way.

The kind of feeling that settled in your chest and made everything else blur out. The kind only Manon could make you feel.

Neither of you were sure when it started. But suddenly, you were just kissing in one of your hangouts like these when both of your knees brushed against each other and suddenly she just pulled you in.

And in moments like these, it felt like you were rich. Not in money, but in possibility. Like you could have it all as long as she was there, laughing with you in the dirt, lips stained with stolen wine. Like becoming an F1 driver was more than a dream, it was inevitable.

But then came the floating. The dreaming too far. The way your mind would start to spin, faster than your kart ever could.

And just before you let yourself drift too far, you pulled back to reach into your pocket, slipping a cheap little pill onto your tongue. Just something to remind you the world was still waiting to pull you back down.

She arched an eyebrow, her tone laced with mock offense. “Really? Should I be offended that my kiss makes you reach for a pill?” Manon frowned, her arms crossed as she studied you. “Or is this just how you handle feelings now?”

“Oh shit, my bad. But I’m not exactly in the mood for a lecture right now.” You shrugged, trying to play it off even though the slight tension in your voice betrayed you. “And it’s not you.. it’s just.. this whole driving thing. The pressure and the expectations. It gets to me sometimes. But don’t take it personally, Manz.”

You didn’t have to explain everything because she knew already. Manon had seen it all, felt it, even. The way you wore the weight of your ambitions like armor, even when it was cracking beneath the surface. She just didn’t know how to fix it, or if you even wanted her to.

All she did was grip your jaw, her fingers warm and firm against your skin, pulling you back in. The kiss was deeper this time, almost as if she was trying to anchor you, to pull you back from whatever spiral you were drifting into. Maybe, just maybe, it would make you feel grounded again.

[vaginalvr]

could you write a storyline where spencer goes down on the reader who has never had anyone go down on her and shes extremelely insecure of down there and hes obsessed and stuff

yall loveeeeee this man eating pussy, and ill feed it to you enjoy

cw: oral sex (f. receiving), first time oral, body insecurity, soft dom!Spencer, worship kink, praise kink, filthy talk, gentle teasing, emotional smut, established relationship

REQUESTS OPEN!

You'd let Spencer do everything but this.

Kissing, grinding, his fingers inside you while his mouth murmured in your ear — but never his mouth down there. Not once.

The idea of it made your stomach twist. You knew what girls were supposed to look like, smell like, taste like. You knew what porn showed, what jokes men made. And you weren’t that. You were soft and messy and not some neatly airbrushed fantasy.

Spencer didn’t push. Not once. But you saw the look in his eyes sometimes — the way his gaze lingered on your thighs when they trembled, how his mouth parted when he fingered you and watched you fall apart. He wanted it. Badly.

But he wanted you more.

So he waited.

Until the night you let your guard down.

It started with you straddling his lap, making out on his couch, his long fingers inside your panties, curling in just the right spot while you moaned against his mouth.

"God, you're so wet," he whispered, breath shaky. "You always get this wet for me?"

You nodded, eyes hazy, burying your face in his neck. “Feels so good, Spence.”

And that’s when he said it — soft, reverent, a little bit desperate.

“Let me taste you.”

Your body went stiff. “Spencer…”

“I mean it,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Please. I’ve wanted to for so long. You don’t have to do anything. Just let me… worship you.”

You hesitated. “I don’t—I’m not like… I don’t look like—”

He cut you off with a kiss. “Don’t say that.”

“Spence…”

“I love how you look,” he said, firmer now. “I crave you. I think about eating you out constantly. I wake up hard some mornings just remembering how you moan.”

You gasped, burying your face in his chest. “You’re just saying that.”

He gently tipped your chin up. “No. I mean it. Let me show you.”

You hesitated. Then slowly, heart racing, you nodded.

He moved you to the bed like you were made of glass.

Soft kisses. Soft hands. Stripping you slowly, carefully, until you were naked beneath him, shivering but not from cold.

He kissed your inner thighs, again and again, teasing your skin with his lips and breath and barely-there touches. You tried to close your legs instinctively, but he gently eased them apart.

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful here. Especially here.”

You were trembling. “What if I don’t smell good? Or look good? What if you hate it—”

He looked up, eyes blown wide with need.

“I already know I won’t. I know your body. I’ve had your taste on my fingers. I dream about it.”

He licked his lips, then leaned down, kissing the crease where your thigh met your core.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” he murmured. “You’re mine. And you’re perfect to me.”

Then his tongue flicked out, gently teasing your folds.

You gasped, hips jerking. “Spence—”

“Relax,” he whispered, voice thick with hunger. “I’ve got you.”

He licked you like he was starving.

Long, slow, deep strokes of his tongue, starting gentle and then building rhythm, groaning against your skin when your thighs started to shake. His hands held your hips down firmly, anchoring you in place while he tasted every inch of you — lips, folds, clit — like he was memorizing you.

You were panting now, unable to stop the cries falling from your lips.

“Oh my god, Spencer—what—what are you—”

He pulled back just long enough to whisper, “Tasting the sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever had.”

Then he buried his face back in your pussy, moaning when you arched, desperate and trembling.

You tangled your fingers in his curls, too overwhelmed to think. His tongue circled your clit now, then sucked it gently into his mouth. Your body snapped.

You came with a cry, thighs clenching around his head, and Spencer held you through it — never letting up, still licking, soft and slow and loving even after your body shook.

When he finally looked up, his lips and chin were slick. His eyes were blown wide with hunger and awe.

“You okay?” he whispered.

You could barely nod. “Better than okay.”

He crawled up and kissed you hard, letting you taste yourself on his mouth.

“Next time,” he whispered, “I want to do that for hours.”

You laughed, breathless, and pulled him back into your arms.

[astars-things]

Birthday posts

Summary- SMAU where Jack, Lando, Quinn, Luke and Half of the grid post y/n for her birthday and a bonus Insta edit of what y/n posts for Jack

*all photos are from pinterest I do not own them

Family posts↓

liked by @.Landonorris @.Y/n_hughes and others

@.QuinnHughes Happy 24th birthday to these two crazy idiots. As your older brother, I've witnessed your wild nights, chaotic ideas and questionable fashion choices over the years, and documented most along the way. Watching you grow up side by side has been one of the greatest joys of my life. Love you both  

tagged @.Jackhughes @.Y/n_hughes 

view comments 

@.Y/n_hughes who tf is cutting onions near me rn  

@.Jackhughes not crying just... sweating from my eyes bro

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liked by @.Jackhughes @.Y/n_hughes and others

@.lhughes_06 happy birthday to the two people who made growing up equally fun and mildly traumatic. thanks for being my built-in best friends, role models (sometimes), and constant sources of chaos. love you both, even when you roast me in group chats

tagged @.Jackhughes @.Y/n_hughes

view comments 

@.Jackhughes its called charater development and you're welcome 

@.Y/n_hughes Love you baby bro. Also role models sometimes?? please. i’m clearly the best example you’ve ever had 😌

→ @.lhughes_06 who are you trying to lie to rn?!

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liked by @.Landonorris @.trevorzegras and others

@.Jackhughes Y/n, You are many things in life and I'm so lucky to call you my little sister, wombmate, my best friend and my partner in crime. From the moment we entered the world (a whole 2 minutes apart), you’ve been right by my side through everything. You have supported my hockey dream since we were little and I couldn't be more thankful for you. No matter how far apart we are from each other our bond grows everyday. Love you forever and always lil sis ❤️

tagged @.Y/n_hughes

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@.Y/n_hughes Jacky...I'll forever support my partner in crime ❤️ but why you got me sobbing on my bedroom floor

→@.Landonorris I can confirm she is on the floor sobbing

@.trevorzegras broo this made me cry 

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Grid posts ↓

Liked by @.User @.Y/n_hughes and others

@.danielricciardo Happy birthday to this absolute legend who matches my australian energy perfectly. Thank you for capturing my good angels whenever we shot for Mclaren social media very much appreciated. You make every paddock day 10x more fun. Don’t ever change, Y/n 🍾

tagged @.Y/n_hughes

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@.Y/n_hughes Danny ric...Love you so much pookie and hey, you’re welcome for the content

→@.danielricciardo love you too 

@.Landonorris when did half of these photos even happen? 

→@.Y/n_hughes next Question 

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liked by @.Y/n_hughes @.charles_leclerc and others

@.carlossainz55 Happy birthday pequeña estrella (Little star)  Thank you for being a number one Carlando supporter even when we didn't ask for it. When I moved on from McLaren you still showed me support and cheered me on and I couldn't ask for a better friend and also thank you for putting up with Lando, Your paycheck for emotional labor is in the mail 

tagged @.Y/n_hughes

view comments

@.Y/n_hughes Love you always Carlitooo 

@.landonorris wait she’s getting paid for putting up with me??? → @.carlossainz55 mate it’s back pay at this point

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Landos post↓

liked by @.oscarpiastri @.User and others

@.Landonorris To my dearest Y/n, Happy Birthday my love. You love me on my best and worst days, You cheer the loudest for me even when I want to give up, You help keep me humble when my ego gets to big, You are the calm to my chaos and You make my smile on days I don't want to smile. Words don't do it justice on how much I love you but I’ll spend forever trying to show you. You are my heart, my peace, and my favorite person in the world.  

tagged @.Y/n_hughes

view comments

@.y/n_hughes currently sobbing. you’re everything, lando. always have been, always will be 💛 → @.landonorris and you’re stuck with me forever. sorry not sorry 🫶

@.jackhughes this is cute and all but if either of you makes out in front of me today i’m walking into traffic → @.lhughes_06 he’s not kidding.

@.oscarpiastri glad someone keeps his ego in check tbh → @.landonorris betrayal from inside the team?? wow.

@.danielricciardo ok but who actually wrote this for you?? → @.landonorris rude. I’m soft sometimes.

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Y/ns post↓

Liked by @.Jackhughes @.trevorzegras and Others

@.Y/n_hughes Jack, You are my older brother by two minutes but you never make me forget that. No matter what you're doing whether its sleeping, getting ready for a game or out partying you make sure to always make time for me to have a five minute phone call just to check in on each other.  And those five minutes mean more to me than you know. And those five minutes mean more to me than you know. You're my wombmate, partner in crime and I would give you my kidney if you asked for it but I'll never let you borrow my phone charger and I think that sums up our relationship perfectly. Love you forever, even when you steal my fries. 

tagged @.Jackhughes 

view comments 

@.jackhughes this made me emotional. love you always, wombmate ❤️ → @.y/n_hughes love you too. fries? no. charger? never. My kidney? fine.

@.trevorzegras watching the hughes twins bicker is better than 90% of TV shows → @.landonorris petition for a reality show. just them. no filter.

→ @.y/n_hughes Yeah no...not a good idea

@.quinnhughes i blinked once and y’all went from fighting over who got the front seat to this 💀 → @.jackhughes i still deserve the front seat → @.y/n_hughes he’s delusional, your honor

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please reblog, like and comment 🫶

[holylulusworld]

Stuck in the middle (1)

Summary: Your best friend and his husband got this.

Pairing: Stucky x fem!Reader, former ??? x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, abandonment, relationship problems, hurt & comfort, bisexual Stucky, hinted grey/dark Stucky

She was here before you. Penelope was there before you even came into the picture. Show a little more respect for my best friend. I have respected yours too. You cannot ask me to choose between you and her.

His words still echo in your mind. You just grabbed your bag and jacket and ran.

There’s nowhere to go, but you couldn’t stay at your house any longer. For two months, Penelope invaded your home, your personal space, acting all innocently.

Whenever your boyfriend wasn’t around, she told you that he would turn his back on you. That vile woman dared to tell you she’s going to wear his name by the end of the year and that you mean nothing to him. Penelope called you a placeholder, a distraction until she returns.

You angrily wipe the tears off your cheeks. He’s not worth it. They are not worth it. Your boyfriend poisoned the home you created by bringing a snake into your nest.

“Y/N, what happened?” You didn’t know where you went until you stood in front of your former best friend’s house—the one you abandoned to prove to your boyfriend that he means more to you than Steve.

Sweet Steve, with his head full of dreams and the kindest soul you've ever met. He stepped outside, barefoot and in only his sweatpants, to guide you inside his home. “What happened?”

“He…and then…” You shake your head. Steve doesn’t deserve to be your emotional dumpster. “Penelope is back.”

“Oh, doll,” Steve sighs and wraps his arm around your shoulders. He walks you inside his house and toward the bedroom where his husband is waiting for him.

“Steve? What happened?” Bucky slips out of the bed to wrap you in his arms while Steve walks into the walk-in wardrobe to get you a shirt to sleep in. “Hey, sweetheart. Tell Bucky what happened.”

“Buck,” Steve clears his throat. “Penelope is back.”

“That bitch,” Bucky curses while running his hand up and down your back. “You did well to come to us, baby love. Why don’t you tell Bucky everything that happened? What did that bitch do, and do we have to kill her?”

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle against Bucky. “I shouldn’t… He wanted me not to stay in contact with you. He said, you are undressing me with your eyes, Stevie.”

Bucky furrows his brows, looking at his husband. “Babe, did you undress her with your eyes?”

“Maybe?” Steve grins at his husband. “What are you going to do about it?” He eyes you in his husband’s arms, smirking darkly. Steve has been waiting for you to finally leave your boyfriend.

“We will see, Stevie. Let’s take care of our best girl first,” Bucky murmurs as he guides you toward the bathroom. “How about you take a warm bath, and we order food? We can talk after you calm down a little, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper against Bucky. “Shit, I just ruined your night, didn’t I? I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Nonsense,” Steve jumps in. “We are glad you came to us, doll. Bucky and I will take good care of you. Right, Buck?”

“Of course,” Bucky emphasizes. “Come on, pretty girl. I’ll bring you to the bathroom, and Stevie will order food for us. You are always welcome here, you know that.”

You nod against Bucky and allow him to guide you into the bathroom. He helps you sit on the edge of the bathtub.

“Everything is going to be alright, Y/N.” Bucky runs you a bath, adding your favorite bath bomb. “Do you need help?”

You’re lost in your thoughts and sadness, to stop Bucky from unbuttoning your blouse. He helps you undress, brushing over your skin with skilled fingers. You don’t mind. He’s a friend and Steve’s husband. There’s nothing wrong with him helping you.

“Go ahead, we will be right there.”

You get inside the bathtub, humming happily as you sink into the warm water, and close your eyes. For the first time since Penelope moved into your home, you relax and forget about the pain she caused.

“Steve, calm down,” Bucky laughs as his husband is pacing the bedroom. “I know you have been waiting for her to come to us, but we need to do this slowly. You know, ease her into becoming ours.”

“She was meant to be ours from the beginning.” Steve is furious. He allowed your boyfriend to be the man in your life and gave up hope. Steve wanted you to be their third, the missing part, only for your boyfriend to snatch you out of his hands. “The tables have turned, Buck. I will never allow that piece of shit to ever get close to her again.”

“Tomorrow, we will get her things,” Bucky decides. “Tonight, we will take the first step to make her feel safe and loved in our home. Her new home.”

“We need to…” Steve squares his jaw and inhales sharply. “Take things slow, you’re right. She’ll see that we can give her all she’ll ever want. Love. Dedication. Pleasure beyond her imagination.”

“Pleasure, huh?” Bucky smirks darkly. “You already thought about ruining our sweet doll. I knew you were a dangerous man, Stevie.”

“How about we join her in the bathtub?” Steve suddenly says. “Only to scrub her back, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Stevie. Buck!” You squeak when your friend and his husband enter the bathroom wearing only a towel hung loose around their hips. “What…uh…”

“We thought we could join you. We have snacks too,” Bucky hastily says, showing you the strawberries in his hands. “We have champagne.”

“Oh…sure,” you nervously shift in the huge bathtub. There’s more than enough space in the bathtub, but you’re unsure if you want to share it with two men. Even though one of them is your best friend.

“We promise not to peek,” Steve jokes and unashamedly drops his towel. Your eyes grow wide. He’s off limits and gay, but damn, he’s packing.

Crap. No. You cannot think that way about your best friend or his gorgeous husband, who drops his towel too.

“Buck, how about you get into the tub? I’ll take care of the strawberries and champagne.” Steve is so casual about being naked in front of you and his husband that you relax. There’s nothing wrong with being comfortable with them.

“I’m on it.” Bucky climbs into the bathtub to sit next to you. His hand brushes your thigh, and you shudder, feeling the heat come out of his body. He looks at you with these baby blue orbs, making you melt into a puddle. “Hey, sweetheart. How are you holding up?”

“Not good, I guess,” you sniffle and hide your face in the palms of your hands. “Sorry.”

“Baby doll.” You feel Steve’s hands on your shoulder. You end up with your back resting against his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around your body. Steve is careful not to touch any intimate parts, but your cheeks heat up. “You don’t have to apologize. Never. You’re welcome to stay with us from now on.”

“Stevie and I will take good care of our best girl.” Bucky’s eyes are soft, and his words are soothing. “No one will ever hurt you again.” He takes your hand and places it on his heart. “I swear on my heart.”

You avert your gaze. It’s all too much. Steve is so close you can feel his warmth, and Bucky is looking at you as if you’re a wonder.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing,” Bucky murmurs. He moves closer to cup your face. “We will take care of everything from now on…"

Tags in reblog.

[memoirofasparklemuff1n]

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER

AN OBX SMAU

synopsis: the summer after graduating highschool was the dream. after years of tedious hours at school and of nonsensical drama, you are finally an adult, but most importantly? free. or so you thought. after a tragic incident the night of midsummers, the four of you decided to never, ever speak of it again. everything was going to be okay because only those present that night knew the truth, right?

pairing: exbf!jj x kook!reader; rafe x kook!reader

cw: guys, it’s a slasher story so gore comes without saying. if you’re not comfortable with that then don’t read, i totally understand.

a/n: this is shit, i’m sorry. i know it’s a bit long but it’s only because i don’t think i could have made it as clear as possible as to what happened the summer before the story unfolds. i don’t think there will be as much writing as in this one because in a situation like this you wouldn’t use your phone, honestly. *english isn’t my first language so sorry for any mistakes. not proofread.

prologue:

midsummers soirée, june 21, 2024.

you saw a flash of car lights coming up to where you and jj were standing hand in hand. the gravel crunched under the tires of topper's porsche, sarah rolling the window down with a smile.

"c'mon! we have to get out before my dad sees me leaving," urgency flooded her tone, her frantic waves adding to her worry.

you rolled your eyes but pulled jj alongside you, quickly climbing into the car and settling in the dark interior that smelled of leather, mint, and expensive cologne.

"about time," topper quickly pressed on the accelerator, causing your boyfriend to crash into you as the car jerked forward.

"hey!" you complained but jj didn't move, intead tugged you to his side in a firm embrace with a chuckle. you sighed and rested your head on his shoulder. he moved his thumb on your arm with a soothing rhythm before pressing his lips against the top of your head. you tilted your head up, meeting his gaze with a small smile.

"hi." he muttered. his eyes glowed under the faint light of the car radio. jj lifted his right hand and traced your cheek with a feather light touch. your heart thumped faster, the butterflies in your stomach colliding against one another.

"hi." your eyes fell to his lips that looked incredibly kissable at the moment but when he leaned in topper turned on the radio, the weeknd blaring through the speakers, causing you to jump and break apart.

"topper!" you chastised, "are you deaf?"

topper met your gaze through the rearview mirror, and put his hand around his ear with a "huh?" you glared and flipped him off causing sarah to chuckle at the interaction. she leaned forward a bit and lowered the volume.

you threw her an appreciative look, "thanks sar." she blew you a kiss before turning off the ac and lowering the windows of the car to lean backwards out the window.

"sarah!" topper yelled. "be careful!" he reached for her but she pushed his hand away and yelled over the music and wind "i'm fine! just keep driving."

sarah called over to you, "can you take a picture of me? i want to post it on instagram."

you nodded, untangling yourself from jj causing him to grunt annoyed. you ignored him and lowered your window to lean out as well.

you quickly took sarah's picture, which turned out like it was pulled straight out of a magazine. but then again she was a model so, no surprise there. you couldn't help but feel a small pang of envy. you knew you were pretty but that didn't stop you from feeling a little insecure around sarah cameron. after all, she was the kook princess, daughter of the kook king, ward cameron.

you quickly pushed the thought away because sarah was your best friend, hell, she was your sister in the ways that mattered. guilt flooded your stomach but the butterflies burned away the feeling as soon as jj pulled you onto his lap and began pressing kisses all over your face, your giggles drowned by the music.

"jj! stop, it tickles," your efforts to push him off were weak, and he knew that.

"omg jj, leave her alone. i can't with her annoying voice," topper stated. jj opened his mouth to tell him off but he didn't need to.

you smacked the back of topper's head, "ow!"

"shut the fuck up, topper." you rolled your eyes with a huff as you accomodated back into your seat. "envy doesn't suit you."

he flipped you off and your voices raised over the music, chaos erupting in the car. all your bitter sentiments towards each other brimming to the surface. the road ahead was dark, the waves crashing down below the cliff at your right blocked looming as a dark omen.

insults started spewing between you and topper, sarah and jj trying to control the situation without success.

topper turned towards you in his seat, taking his eyes off the road.

"my god, you never shut the fuck up. i cannot stand you, all you ever do is complain! you're such a spoiled brat!"

"oh, i complain? last time i heard, you are the one that can't stop whining because your girlfriend won't have sex with you." shit. you realized the mistake you had just made but it was too late. the damage was done.

the boy's face contorted with shame that quickly turned into rage, "listen here you little—"

"WATCH OUT" sarah shrieked causing topper to face the road and swerve to the right before slamming the brakes, causing you to fly across the seat and slam your head against the windshield.

sarah screamed your name and jj quickly grabbed you by the waist, pulling you to the back with him. your vision was blurry with tears from the pain beating your head.

"hey, hey, look at me," jj's voice was shaking with fear and something else you couldn't quite point out. he inspected your forehead, causing you to wince as his fingertips brushed the hair out of your forehead.

you touched your forehead where it hurt most, your fingers meeting a warm, wet substance. your fingers were coated with it. red. blood.

you were dizzy but the pain subsided as the adrenaline pumped through your veins. you turned to your friends, only to be met with two expressions of horror. they weren't looking at you, though. their stares were directed to the body sprawled on the pavement. their legs were contorted in an unnatural position.

"no. no no no no." you shook your head frantically.

this can't be. i'm imagining it.

you reached for the door handle and opened the door, tripping on your dress as you got out, causing you to fall onto the road on your hands and knees.

"y/n!" jj quickly got out after you and helped you up, before turning to the gruesome sight in front of you.

topper was still sitting with a hollow expression, while sarah was crying silently. you stumbled towards the body in fear, because they couldn't possibly be dead. this only happened in movies and horror stories. not in real life. they were just badly injured. yes. exactly. everything was ok.

you heard your name being called behind you but you ignored them as you kneeled beside the body. the man. it was a human being laying on the pavement.

get your shit together.

you saw shoes to your side and you looked up to see jj breathing heavily and topper came up beside him a beat later.

sarah was getting out of the car, her dress tangling with her legs causing her to stumble over to you.

"i-is he?" she didn't finish the sentence but we all understood.

he wasn't breathing, that much you realized. yet you couldn't bring yourself to find a pulse, because as long as you didn't, you could convince yourself he was still alive.

"check for a pulse." topper looked at you with a frown.

"why me? you're the one that hit him." his nostrils flared at your comment and he came up to your side, grabbing your hair to push your face against the corpse man.

"hey!" jj grabbed topper and peeled him off of you, causing him to fall to the ground with a groan. "touch her again and i will kill you."

jj stood above him with a murderous expression before kicking topper on the leg and turning back to you. his expression softened, "i'll check, alright?" you nodded as you stood up and hugged sarah, who had since stopped crying but still looked extremely and utterly terrified.

your boyfriend looked queasy but he pushed through, pressing his fingers to the man's neck. he froze.

he muttered something that you couldn't quite make out but he then repeated it louder.

"he's dead." his gaze turned empty and he quickly got up, stepping as far away from the body as possible.

sarah began crying all over again and you felt yourself begin to hyperventilate at the thought of you being the cause another human being had died.

"we have to call the police, maybe they can still do something."

"are you insane? they'll never believe us!"

you turned to topper with a glare, "believe what? that your ego got so wounded you took your eyes off the road and killed someone?!"

he pointed at you, "shut the fuck up! this is all your fault too. if you hadn't hit me, we wouldn't be here in the first place!"

"if you weren't such an asshole, you wouldn't have said the things you said!"

"ENOUGH!" you all turned to sarah, never having heard her so mad.

"we have to call the police," she said with a surprisingly calm expression. a stark contrast to her state a few moments ago.

"no, we can't." this time it didn't come from your best friend's asshole of a boyfriend. instead, those words came out of yours.

"what?" disbelief colored your tone. "jj. you can't be serious. if we don't call the police we will get in a lot of trouble."

"if we do, we will get in a lot of trouble." jj stepped towards you with his hands up, as if approaching a wild animal.

"you guys could probably make it out fine, but i can't. i'm a pogue. i don't have the money nor the connections you guys have. even if by some miracle we made it out unscathed, everyone on the island would know." your mouth hung open in shock, no words coming out.

"he's right. my dad is gonna be pissed enough as it is. my car is ruined, you know how much a panamera costs? i haven’t even had it for a year!” topper starts pacing and running his hands through his hair, a crazed look taking over. “this is gonna cost me a fortune to fix. and i could get kicked out of duke. i have too much to lose.”

ice ran through your veins, you stared in silence at your friends. you slowly began to step back before you hightailed it towards the car. you only made it a few steps because of your stupid heels, causing topper and jj to reach you in no time. the latter grabbed you from behind and covered your mouth with his hand before carrying you back to where sarah was still standing.

jj put you down but held you firmly as he turned you to face him. you didn’t recognize him, the boy you loved was gone. something else took over his form, something you had seen only once before in another life. maybe you could bring him back.

“jj, please. you weren’t driving, i can get you out. it was an accident!” your words fell on deaf ears, but you still hoped that it was just the initial fear.

“baby, they’ll never believe that. they would pin it on me no matter who takes the fall. i-i can’t have this on my record. you know that. please, baby. i could end up in jail for at least five years. my life would be ruined.” he searched your eyes for signs of you giving up and he found it; you were cracking.

he was right, you could get out fine but not him. if anything it was your fault he was in this situation. this wasn’t his world, it was yours.

you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“ok.” his eyes widened in shock, as if he couldn’t believe his ears.

“finally you say something smart.” topper’s obnoxious voice seeped through the night air and into your ears.

you turn your head slowly, “i’m not doing this for you.”

he rolled his eyes, “regardless.” he places his hands on his hips and stares at the body. “we have to leave. now.”

sarah snaps out of her trance, “are you for real? our dna is all over him, plus your car is covered in his blood.”

you can’t believe what you’re about to say, “we have to hide the body.”

jj squeezes his eyes shut, “yeah, we do.”

topper nods to himself before stepping by the head of the corpse. “jj, help me.”

your boyfriend hesitates before nodding as well. he steps towards the feet of the man. they look at each for a moment before crouching down and lifting the body.

“sarah, open the trunk.” you’re still frozen, wondering if this was the right thing to do.

you open your mouth but nothing comes out as sarah hurried to the back of the car.

a large blood stain marked the space where the body had laid. a loud thunder sounded, causing you to jump. rain.

all traces of what happened here would be gone by morning and it will be as if nothing happened.

you heard sarah calling your name and you stared at the crime scene for one last time before running into the car.

as soon as you climbed in you sat as far away from jj as possible. he tried to take your hand but you jerked away, the hurt look on his face almost made you cave.

the car ride was silent but full of tension. sarah was staring straight ahead, jj was looking out the window while topper drove with a clenched jaw a firm grip on the wheel.

suddenly, red and blue lights filled the car your heart beginning to beat frantically.

topper swore and sarah began rambling over how you would get caught. jj and you simply stared at one another in fear but it was all in vain because the lights soon disappeared and only the ghost of your crime loomed over.

after an eternity, you reached the docks. topper gripped the wheel so hard, his knuckles were white. sarah looked ahead before nodding to herself as if trying to convince herself that this was the right thing to do before opening the door and shutting it behind her.

topper made a gesture with his head, “c’mon, j.” he nodded and got out as well leaving you alone in the car.

you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down before opening the door to get to the others.

topper and jj had gotten the body out of the car, sarah close behind. you closed the trunk and ran after them. you looked around to make sure nobody was around but because of the hour you doubted anyone was.

topper’s speed boat was a bit far, the boys clearly struggling with the dead weight.

you saw a light flash in the dark out of the corner of your eye. you turned and saw a security guard about fifteen feet away.

“guys!” you hissed. the looked at you and then at where you were pointing.

“oh my god!” sarah exclaimed.

“what do we do?” topper asked in panic. if the situation weren’t so serious you would’ve laughed.

you looked around but there was nowhere to hide. you were screwed.

think think think.

bingo. “ok. sarah and i will distract him and you guys pretend he’s a drunk friend or something.”

“that’s your brilliant plan?” why was he such a pain in the ass?

you narrowed your eyes at topper, “you got anything better, einstein?”

”guys, stop. let’s just do that,” jj sighed, tired of our arguing. topper rolled his eyes but complied.

“c’mon sarah,” you grabbed her hand and began walking towards the guard. he hadn’t seen you yet but once he did he ogled at the two of you. disgust colored your face but you quickly masked it once he was close enough to talk.

sarah put on a bright smile and you thanked your few lucky stars that your best friend was the prettiest girl on the outer banks. and that despite a bit of her makeup being a bit messy from all the crying she still looked good.

“hi, officer! we were wondering if you have seen a short red headed girl around. she’s one of our friends and she asked us to meet her here.”

the security guard scanned her face before responding. “uh no i haven’t seen her but i could help you find her if you want.” you recognized him from the cut, his name was doug or dan or something like that.

you turned to see if the boys had made it to the boat, but they were still a few feet away. thankfully the boat was further away from you than you had anticipated. you could barely make out their figures in the dark.

“really? thank you so much, i’m so sorry to bother with this.” sarah touched his arm and he blushed a little at the gesture. men.

“it’s not a bother really, i’m happy to help.” your phone buzzed with a call. jj. you answered, “yeah?”

“you can come back now,” he said.

“oh great! we’ll see you there then, jess. bye,” you hung up and tried your best to put on a happy smile.

“she said she was on the other side,” you laughed. “but thank you so much for your help!”

you pulled sarah away without waiting for a response from the guard, leaving him with a confused expression. you quickly ran to the boat or much as your heels allowed, before helping sarah in, climbing after her.

jj steadied you when you wobbled under the rumbling boat, before pulling you down to sit with him. you wanted to pull away but didn't because as much as you were angry, you weren’t strong enough to face this on your own.

the night was quiet, the stars lighting a path for topper as he went as deep into the ocean as he could. once he found a spot that he thought was good enough, he turned off the engine. the only sound were the waves lapping against the sides of the boat.

you all looked at each other to confirm that we were really doing this.

“the fish will eat away at his body by the time they find him, if they find him. there won’t be any evidence,” jj’s quiet voice filled the silence.

topper sniffed, “good. ok, let’s do this.” he got up and grabbed the man by the shoulders while jj settled by his feet.

“wait,” your voice shattered the silence. they all looked at you in exasperation.

“shouldn’t we check to see if he has an id? that way we could know who he was.”

topper jerked his head in your direction, “what? are you crazy? no!”

“i agree with topper, it’s better if we don’t.” sarah looked at you apologetically but with no sign of taking her words back.

you looked at your boyfriend but he wasn’t looking at you. that was all the answer you needed.

you sighed and crossed your arms, “fine.”

“ok, on the count of three, top.”

he nodded at jj, before they both lifted him and threw the body overboard. a loud splash sounded in the night, bubbles bursting through the surface as the corpse sank to the bottom of the ocean.

silence came once again, all of you coming to terms with what you had done. topper turned the boat on and sailed back to the docks.

“we will never, under any circumstances speak about this again.” topper looked at the three of you.

“is that clear?” none of you responded.

“we need to swear that we will take it with us to the grave.” he grabbed sarah by her chin, “swear it.”

she nodded, “i swear i’ll take to my grave.” a beat passed before he let her go, turning towards jj.

he took a deep breath, “i swear it.”

topper nodded before turning to you. “do you swear you’ll never speak about this again?”

you nodded, not trusting your words. that clearly displeased him, “don’t nod. say it.”

you sat in silence before speaking, “ok.”

he sighed in frustration before going up to you and wrapping a hand around your throat, “not ‘ok.’ not a yes. i need you to say that you swear that you will take it to your grave.”

his breath smelled a bit like alcohol, realization dawning on you as to why he had such a short fuse tonight. you were fucked.

you looked at him in defiance but complied, “i swear that i will take it with me to the grave.”

his jaw clenched before he nodded, letting you go with a shove which caused you to jerk backwards. jj reached for you but you moved away from his touch.

if there was something that became clear that night, it was that life would never be the same.

what was supposed to be a grand summer became a bleak utter nightmare. one that would only stop once you were dead.

—

i feel like this was bad lol but hopefully i make it better 🙂‍↕️

[dragonridersandhighlords]

Chasing Shadows | S E V E N

masterlist | CS Masterlist

Summary: Everything Wren thought she knew is unraveling and the only thing more dangerous than the enemy are those with life altering secrets.

Notes: Updates are going to be slower after this! I will still try to put at least one out a week but no guarantees! Thank you so much for the support on this series!

Warnings: panic attack/dissociation, betrayal, threats of death, terrible descriptions of battle, major character death

Word Count: 8.4k

previous part

“No. This isn’t real. This has to be some sick dream.”

The cry of a dragon echoed through my mind, shattering the silence of the night as the familiar figure of a red daggetail plummeted to the earth. My heart raced, a visceral fear clawing at my chest. 

“He’s gone,” Desa’s gentle voice brushed against our bond, a soothing balm that only deepened my desperation. I begged her to dive, to reach Liam before it was too late.

“Wrennie?” The sound of my name pulled me from the abyss. I met Liam’s concerned gaze, his dark eyes searching mine. “You okay?”

I must have looked pale, a specter of my usual self. This was my second vision in a month, a haunting pattern that left me feeling more vulnerable than ever. Twice now, I had watched Liam die—twice too many for a marked one like me. A cold dread settled in my stomach, and I struggled to mask my unease. 

“Fine.” My voice sounded hollow even to my own ears. “Just didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Okay.” Liam's brow furrowed, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. “Xaden wants to talk to you.”

I nodded, my gaze drifting past him to where Xaden stood, shrouded by the shadows of the rocks, his presence commanding and intense. 

“Something bad is going to happen.” His voice pierced through my mind, sending a chill down my spine as I made my way to him. 

“I know.” I sighed aloud, dread pooling in my gut as I reached his side. 

“What’d you see?” Xaden's instinctive question hung in the air, and I fought to keep the tears at bay, the weight of my visions pressing heavily upon me.

“Something we might not be able to stop, but I’m going to try.” The words spilled out before I could second-guess myself, and to my surprise, Xaden nodded, acceptance mingling with worry in his gaze.

“I have to tell you something,” he said, the gravity of his tone pulling me closer. “But I need you to understand that I made a lot of promises to a lot of people. That’s why I never told you before.”

“What are you talking about?” I searched his eyes, desperate to read the unspoken fears lurking beneath the surface.

“I—” He hesitated, and I could see the moment his bond with Sgaeyl tightened, urgency radiating off him. “Fuck, I thought I had more time.” The frustration in his voice was palpable. “Trust me, please.” 

“What’s going on?” 

The air was thick with tension, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as the reality of the situation settled over me like a heavy cloak. 

“General Sorrengail’s youngest? This is a treat.” The voice was both startling and oddly familiar, echoing around the rocky outcropping as I strained to place it. My pulse quickened, and I exchanged a worried glance with Xaden, who had stepped closer.

As we rounded the jagged rocks, a breathtaking sight unfolded before us: a pair of gryphon flyers stood a few yards away, their majestic forms adorned with gleaming feathers that caught the light of the fading sun. I instinctively reached for one of my blades, the cool steel a reassuring presence against my palm, but before I could draw it, Xaden's hand clamped down around my wrist, grounding me with urgency.

“You’re fucking early.” His voice was low and threatening, his eyes locked on the flyers with a fierce intensity that made my heart plummet. The calmness in his tone clashed with the tension radiating from his body. “What happened to meeting tomorrow? We don’t have a full shipment.”

“The shipment isn’t the issue,” the woman replied, shaking her head, her features illuminated by the dimming light.

“Syrena?” The name slipped from my lips in shock as I finally caught a clear glimpse of the female flyer, her face a mix of relief and confusion. 

“Holy shit, Wren, you’re actually alive?” Syrena exclaimed, pulling me into an unexpected hug. I froze, every fiber of my being alert and uncertain as the warmth of her embrace enveloped me.

“What are you doing here? What shipment are you talking about?” I managed to stammer as she pulled back, bewilderment clouding her features.

“You don’t know?” Her question hung in the air like a storm cloud, dark and looming, as she looked to Xaden.

“Xay?” I turned to look at him, seeking answers, but he avoided my gaze, his expression unreadable, as if bracing himself for the worst.

“I wanted to tell you,” he murmured, desperation creeping into his tone.

“Tell me what?” I stepped back from his outstretched hand, the distance between us suddenly feeling larger than ever.

“We’ve been supplying the drifts with alloy daggers to fight venin,” Xaden replied, his words hanging heavy in the space between us. “From Basgiath’s forge.”

“You what?” Confusion swirled within me, battling with a surge of emotions I couldn’t fully articulate. Am I angry? Am I upset? Impressed?

“I told you she’d react like this.” Garrick’s soft laughter broke the tension, but it only served to ignite the fire within me as I snapped my gaze towards him.

“You knew!” I accused, the realization crashing down around me like a tidal wave. “You’ve been helping? Do you realize how dangerous this is? What if you got caught?”

Xaden stepped closer, his expression earnest, almost pleading. “Wren—”

“How long have you been lying to me?” My voice was laced with betrayal, a bitter edge sharpening my words as I returned my glare to him. “How long have all of you been lying to me?” I turned, surveying my friends as they shifted uncomfortably, shame flickering in their eyes, leaving me feeling more isolated than ever.

“Since I turned 18,” Xaden's voice broke through the turmoil, and I could hear the tremor in his words, a fragile thread of sincerity struggling to pull through the weight of my disbelief. I gaped at him, the truth washing over me in waves, each one crashing against the shore of my understanding. 

“The whole time?” I echoed, my voice rising in pitch, incredulity spilling from my lips like water from a cracked dam. As if in slow motion, I turned my gaze to Garrick and Bodhi, who had shifted closer to Xaden, their faces painted with concern, yet tinged with guilt. “The whole time!” The words came out like a wounded animal's cry, raw and desperate.

In the corner of my vision, I caught a glimpse of Violet standing beside Liam, her expression mirroring my own shock, the two of us bound by the same tangled web of betrayal. She had trusted them just as I had, and now, as our eyes met, I saw the flicker of hurt reflected back at me. We were both casualties of their silence.

“Wren—” Xaden began, his tone softening as if trying to breach the chasm that had opened between us, but I couldn’t bear to hear him out.

“Fuck you!” I spat and turned on my heel, storming past, the ground seeming to tremble beneath my fury. 

“Did you know?” I demanded, my voice steady as I faced Desa, the massive blue dragon who had watched over me for years. Her eyes held a depth of wisdom that made my heart ache even more. 

“Youngling.” Her voice was low, like the rumble of distant thunder, and the single word hung in the air between us, answer enough but I need the truth.

“Did you know what they were doing?” I pressed, my frustration bubbling over, refusing to let the question slide. I needed answers, but the intensity of my glare was met with an unwavering calm. 

“Yes.” Her admission struck me like a physical blow, leaving me reeling as I took a step back. I scoffed, the sound sharp and bitter as I turned away, retreating toward Athebyne.

With each stride, I felt the air around me grow thick with the weight of my emotions—betrayal, anger, confusion—melding into a storm brewing within my chest. Flying to Athebyne would take about thirty minutes from the lake, but with the way my breathing was already uneven, I knew it would take me over an hour. I could feel the jagged edges of my shields rising around me, fortifying my mind against the chaos. Xaden’s door was locked tightly in my thoughts, a silent promise that I wouldn’t let anyone inside—because right now, no one on this team had ever told me the truth, and I couldn’t bear to be near them. 

I can see the front gates of the familiar outpost looming ahead, their weathered stone and iron frame a bastion of memories, both comforting and painful. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the landscape, but its beauty feels hollow as I hear the unmistakable sound of powerful wing beats from behind me.

“Wrenley, just stop for a minute!” Xaden’s voice pierces the air, filled with urgency as I know he’s sliding down Sgaeyl’s side. My heart quickens at the sound, a wild mixture of anger and betrayal surging within me.

“I’ll leave for Eltuval in the morning!” I shout back, the determination in my voice echoing off the stone walls as I push myself to walk faster, the ground beneath me blurring into a streak of dirt and grass. 

“You’re not leaving!” His voice grows louder, a mix of desperation and frustration, and the moment I sense him close behind, I break off into a sprint. “Damnit, Wren! Just stop!”

“Why? So you can lie to me some more?” I snap, my voice sharp enough to cut through the tension hanging in the air. I turn abruptly, my eyes locking onto his, the intensity of my gaze brimming with accusation. “So I can continuously be shown that I shouldn’t trust you?”

“You can trust me.” His response is soft, but the weight of the moment feels anything but gentle.

“Can I?” I challenge, my heart thundering as I reel off the questions that claw at my insides, desperate for answers that may never come. “Where were you for the two years before you went to Basgiath?”

“I was…” He trails off, his words hanging in the air like smoke from a dying fire, leaving an emptiness that chills me to the bone.

I scoff, turning back around with a heavy heart, the outpost now beckoning like a siren, its familiarity a cruel reminder of the trust I once held. 

“Wren?” Garrick’s voice calls out, an attempt to halt my retreat as I push through the gates, the sound of creaking wood punctuating my resolve. 

I don’t dare give him a response, my gaze fixed firmly on the floor, each step weighted with the burden of betrayal as I walk straight for the briefing room. 

“Look at me.” Bodhi’s voice cuts through the haze, his grip on my arm pulling me into the shadows of an alcove, sheltering us from the chaos outside. “You can be mad. You can cry, scream, I’ll even let you hit me. But you cannot shut us out.”

“You’ve all been risking your lives, keeping secrets for years.” The adrenaline from the confrontation begins to fade, replaced by a heavy sorrow that sinks deep into my chest. “I was still believing venin was a myth, a way to get us to behave as kids, but you all knew. Why didn’t anyone tell me?” A tear escapes, a silent testament to my shattered trust. “You were my best friend, Bodhi. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Xaden has to explain that, Princess.” The playful nickname slips off Bodhi’s tongue, and I huff a laugh, my voice echoing off the cold, stone walls of the hall. It’s been almost a year since either he or Garrick dared to use that term, a remnant of our childhood that now feels achingly distant. The corners of my mouth twitch into a smile, but it quickly fades as I remember the weight of the present. “I promise, if it was my story to tell I would.”

“They’re actually real?” The words escape my lips in a breathy gasp, the desperate hope that this is all just a misunderstanding clinging to my heart like a fragile thread. I look to Bodhi, pleading silently for him to dismiss my fears.

“They are. All of the attacks we studied in Battle Brief were the drifts getting alloy daggers, and the classified ones were possibly venin attacks.” His words cut through my apprehension, a stark confirmation that sends a shiver down my spine. The truth hangs heavy in the air, filling the silence with an uncomfortable tension. “We can only go off what the flyers tell us during drops, which is never enough.”

I nod, my mind racing, and glance around the hall, its emptiness suddenly suffocating. “Where is everyone?” I ask, anxiety creeping into my tone.

“I’m sure Xaden and them found the commander and are getting room assignments.” Bodhi shrugs, but the casualness of his tone feels misplaced.

“No,” I interject sharply, the instinctual unease prickling my skin. I move swiftly through the hall, turning to scan the shadows that loom in the corners. “Athebyne, on average, has two riots of twelve riders each, six healers, and four scribes, plus infantry. How have we not seen a single person besides each other?” 

I turn back to Bodhi, watching as the realization dawns on him. 

“They emptied it,” he murmurs, his brow furrowing.

“It’s a trap,” I conclude, urgency propelling me forward as I rush back out to the main courtyard, the chill of dread settling deep within my bones.

“Wren, can we please talk?” Xaden’s voice breaks through the whirlwind of my thoughts, and I halt, a mix of anger and disbelief flooding my senses.

“No, Xay—”

“I know you're mad, and I’m sorry, but I promised.”

“Xaden!” I cut him off, forcing him to meet my gaze, the gravity of my words hanging heavy between us. “Athebyne’s been emptied. We’re the only ones here.” 

“Everyone stop!” His command slices through the air, and I can feel the tension coiling in the courtyard as all eyes turn to him, the realization of danger palpable in the stillness. “Divide and search.” He pivots to me and Violet. “Do not leave my side. I don’t think this is a War Game.”

“Awesome.” Violet mutters, her voice dripping with skepticism as she crosses her arms defensively. We trail behind Xaden, the air growing increasingly tense, with Liam not far behind us. “This is one of the most strategic garrisons we man. There’s no way they’d abandon it for War Games.” Her eyes dart around, scanning the ancient stone walls that have withstood countless storms and conflicts.

“That’s the problem, Violet.” I groan, frustration weighing heavy on my chest. Memories flood my mind, vivid as the hues of dusk settling over the horizon. “My parents were stationed here for 10 years; they never cleaned this place out.” The dust-laden corners and the eerie silence seem to whisper secrets of the past, unsettling in their implications.

“What did Dain say to you before we left?” Xaden’s voice breaks through my reverie as we ascend the spiral staircase leading to the top of the Southwest tower. His tone carries an undercurrent of urgency, forcing Violet to focus. “He leaned in and whispered something.”

“He said something like… I’ll miss you, Violet.” Her reply is hesitant, yet laced with lingering affection. 

“And he said I was going to get you killed.” The weight of those words hangs in the air, and my stomach churns at the thought.

“Yes, but he always says that.” Violet rolls her eyes, trying to brush off the dread that looms in the shadows. 

“Liam, can you see the trading post?” I pivot, the urgency within me spurring me to act. I turn my back on the uncomfortable conversation, seeking clarity.

“On it.” Liam’s voice is steady as he strides to the battlement, his silhouette framed by the twilight sky. He leans over, eyes narrowing as he activates his farsight, searching for answers.

“What would Dain have to do with emptying an entire outpost?” Violet’s question pulls me back, the uncertainty churning within me anew. I glance between them, desperation clawing at my insides.

“Did you do most of your drops here?” I ask Xaden, watching as he nods, concern etched across his features. 

“Who knew you were coming out here?” My heart races, the implications too chilling to consider. 

“Bodhi, Garrick, myself and…” He trails off, his gaze drifting to Violet, and a heavy silence circles us. 

“Violet?” I probe, sensing something amiss, but he doesn’t respond. “Did you tell Dain about the trips?” My voice trembles with urgency.

“No!” She retorts defiantly, then turns to Xaden, the tension simmering. “Unlike some people, I never hid anything from you.”

“Violet,” he says softly, the weight of his words pressing down on us, “did Aetos touch you after I told you about Athebyne?” 

“What?” The confusion in her voice mirrors the anxiety that’s spiraled within me. 

“Like this.” Xaden lifts a hand to her cheek, a gesture both tender and alarming. “His power requires touching someone’s face. Did he touch you like this?” 

“I thought it had to be both hands?” My heart races, a foreboding instinct flaring to life as I watch their exchange. 

“Just the one.” Xaden’s gaze remains locked on Violet, the intensity of his stare pulling the tension taut in the air between them. It’s as if an unseen current courses through the courtyard, charged with unspoken fears that threaten to spill over. The shadows cast by the setting sun lengthen, darkening the stone walls around us, amplifying the weight of the moment.

“Violet?” His voice is edged with concern, a thread of desperation weaving through his words.

“Yes, but that’s how he always touches me. He would n-never…” Her response falters, laced with uncertainty as she instinctively steps out of his hold, the warmth of his palm lingering on her skin like a ghost. “I would know if he read my memories.” Her eyes glisten with defiance, yet a flicker of doubt dances behind them.

Xaden’s expression crumbles, the flicker of hope extinguished as his hand falls away from her cheek. “No, trust me, you wouldn’t.” The finality in his voice sends a chill down my spine, echoing the deeper truth that coils around us like a serpent.

You wouldn’t know if he read your memories. The thought gnaws at me, unsettling and invasive. My mind races back to moments shared with Dain, his hand pressing against my cheek with an intimacy that now feels tainted. How many times did he linger in that manner after my training? Oh gods.

“He knows.” My voice trembles as I take a step back, retreating until my back meets the cold, unyielding stone of the battlement. The air feels thick, suffocating, and the reality of our predicament weighs heavily on my chest. “Oh gods, he knows.”

Xaden locks eyes with me, but before he can even voice his concern, Garrick shoves a missive into Xaden’s hands, breaking the moment's intensity. 

“It’s addressed to you,” Garrick says, urgency etched on his features.

I watch as Xaden breaks the seal, the crisp crack of parchment slicing through the tension. A second letter falls from within, fluttering like a wounded bird. Garrick quickly scoops it up while Xaden reads, his complexion paling with each line that dances before his eyes.

“It’s for you, Wren.” Garrick’s hand extends toward me, and I barely manage to grasp the paper, the world narrowing into a singular focus.

Cadet Wrenley Tavis, Executive Officer of Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing.

As I break the seal and unfold the letter, the ground beneath me seems to quake, the words within threatening to pull me into an abyss from which there may be no return.

Cadet Tavis,

You can imagine my shock upon learning that you’ve been keeping not one but two signets secret for almost 2 years. An intinnsic and a precog, a dangerous pair. 

Should you live through the task assigned to your Wingleader, you are to report to my office immediately. Should you not, well, that's one less problem to worry about.

May Malek condemn your soul.

Colonel Aetos

The world around me fades into a muted blur, the edges of my reality softening as I stare at the letter clutched in my trembling hands. The parchment crinkles under the pressure of my grip, the inked words dancing before my eyes like phantoms in a fever dream. I can hear the murmur of voices rising and falling around me, but they seem distant, swallowed by the weight of the revelation that settles like a stone in my gut. 

No, no, no, no, no. 

The mantra echoes in my mind, a desperate chant against the inevitable tide that threatens to engulf me. Each repetition is a plea, a refusal to accept the stark reality laid out before me. 

“Oh shit.” Xaden’s voice cuts through the haze, laced with a tension that coils tighter around my chest. The sound of paper crumpling reaches my ears, grounding me momentarily, but it only serves to amplify the fear coursing through me. “It says our mission is to survive if we can.”

A shadow of disbelief flits across the courtyard, mingling with the fading light of day. “That’s not…” Garrick begins, his voice trailing off as if the words themselves are too heavy to bear.

“Guys, this is bad,” Liam shouts, urgency cracking through the air like thunder, and I hear the shuffling of feet as someone moves closer. Yet, I remain rooted in place, my gaze fixated on the letter, my mind racing as it grapples with the implications. 

“We’ve been sent here to die.” Xaden’s tone is grave, and the gravity of his words sinks like a stone into the depths of my heart. The breath catches in my throat, a jagged gasp that feels like an echo of my despair. 

I’m drowning in the suffocating realization; no matter how I twist and turn the situation in my mind, the conclusion remains the same. Leadership knows the truth, and with it comes the certainty of my death. Panic unfurls within me, clawing at the edges of my sanity as the world tilts dangerously off its axis.

“Wrenley?” Bodhi’s voice breaks through the fog, and I blink, trying to pull myself from the depths of my thoughts. His face looms in front of me, concern etching deep lines across his brow, but I am paralyzed. The words of the letter echo relentlessly, drowning out everything else, leaving me voiceless and trapped in a cage of my own making.

I can’t move. I can’t talk. The air feels thick, constricting around my lungs, each shallow breath a reminder of the looming threat that now hangs over us like a dark cloud. The chill of reality seeps into my bones, and for a moment, I wish for nothing more than to slip away, to escape the impending storm.

I’m dead. I’m dead. I’m dead.

“Xaden!”

“Deep breaths, Little Bird.” 

I’m dead. I’m dead. I’m dead.

“What is she saying?” 

“What happened, Love?”

I’m dead. I’m dead. I’m dead.

“No harm will come to you.”

I’m dead. I’m dead. I’m dead.

“Wren?” 

“Garrick, get her to Desa.” 

“Love, you need to go with him.” The urgency in Xaden's voice resonates through the suffocating air, but my head shakes instinctively, a reflex against the tumultuous reality that encircles us. The world around me seems to warp and sway, as if I’m caught in the eye of a storm, the chaos pulling at my very essence.

Xaden stands before me, yet he feels altered, a shadow of the man I hold dear. His once-striking gold-flecked onyx eyes—those warm orbs that always spoke of comfort and unwavering strength—now seem to smolder with a darker hue, rimmed in crimson. Red veins snake across his temples, pulsing ominously as if they are alive, echoing the frantic beating of my heart.

“Xay?” My voice trembles, feeling foreign as it escapes my lips. I stretch a hesitant hand toward his cheek, craving the familiar warmth that once anchored me, but now I am met with an unsettling chill that sends shivers racing down my spine.

“You should’ve listened, my life.” The words twist out of him, distorted and sharp, a haunting melody that reverberates in my mind. Before I can fully process the change, his hand clamps around my arm, and I watch in horror as the vibrant color of my skin dulls under his grip, a shadow washing over my very being.

In an instant, he shifts back to himself, the turbulence in his eyes still reflecting a worry that penetrates deeper than the very ground beneath us. My breath steadies, but the unease lingers, an unwelcome guest in the back of my mind. 

“Garrick’s going to take you somewhere safe, okay?” His voice softens, yet the urgency remains, a plea wrapped in concern. 

“No.” The word feels like an anchor as I finally force myself to speak. “I have to change it.” Understanding flickers across Xaden’s face, a fleeting connection that grounds us amidst the chaos, before he turns to the others.

“The letter says this is a test of your command." Garrick grips the crumpled letter, his brows furrowing as he reads, "You have the choice of abandoning the village of our enemy or abandoning command of your wing.” 

“What the hell does that mean?” Bodhi's voice cuts through the tension, urgency woven into every word. 

“They’re testing our loyalty without actually saying it.” Xaden folds his arms over his chest, his posture rigid, a sentinel against the encroaching chaos. The stark sunlight gleams off the ink of the missive he holds, casting jagged shadows on the ground. “According to the missive, if we leave now, we’ll make it to the new location of headquarters for Fourth Wing at Eltuval in time to carry out our orders for War Games. But if we leave, the trading post of Resson and its occupants will be destroyed.”

“By what?” Imogen’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife, urgency threading through her words. She leans closer, her brows knitting in concern.

“Venin,” Liam interjects, his tone grave, as if the very name itself carries the weight of a death sentence.

“You’re positive?” Xaden’s gaze sharpens, searching Liam’s face for any sign of doubt. 

Liam nods, resolute. “As sure as I can be without having actually seen them before. Four of them. Purple robes. Distended red veins spidering all around bright red eyes. Creepy as shit.” 

“Sounds about right,” Xaden mutters, shifting his weight, the tension coiling tighter around him like an invisible noose. 

“I liked it better when we just delivered the weapons,” Bodhi mutters under his breath, his words a low rumble of discontent. 

“Oh, and one guy with a giant-ass staff,” Liam continues, his voice rising with an urgent fervor. “And I swear to Dunne, one second the plain was clear, and the next, they were just…there, walking toward the gates.” His wide eyes reflect the fear clawing at the edges of their reality, pupils dilated as he uses his signet to pierce the depths of the valley below.

“Red veins?” Imogen’s inquiry hangs in the air, dread creeping into her voice.

“Because magic corrupts their blood as they lose their souls,” Violet murmurs, her gaze fixed on Xaden with a steady calm that seems almost eerie against the backdrop of chaos. “Nature likes everything in balance. If the fables are true, at least.” She adds when everyone turns to her, her voice a soft balm amidst the rising storm.

How she is so calm right now is mind-boggling. Even if I hadn’t learned that Aetos is plotting my death, I’d still feel a step away from completely losing it.

“You almost did,” Desa interjects, her tone a gentle reminder, albeit a cutting one.

“Thank you, Desa, for the gentle reminders of my shortcomings,” I retort, the sarcasm barely masking my fraying nerves.

“Not shortcomings, Wise One. These moments will make you stronger,” she replies, her words laced with an ancient wisdom that feels like a distant echo.

“The guy with the staff just—” Liam begins again, but the sudden blast of an explosion rings out, echoing ominously up the sparsely treed valley, followed by a plume of blue smoke that rises like a malevolent specter into the sky. “Those were the gates,” he finishes, his voice hollow, the reality of their situation crashing down around them.

“How many people live in Resson?” Bodhi asks. 

“More than three hundred,” Imogen answers.

“That’s the post they do the yearly trades at,” I add, the weight of the truth hanging heavily in the air, a bitter taste on my tongue. Images of traders, children, and families flicker through my mind, faces I’ve seen countless times over the years, now on the brink of annihilation.

“Then let’s get down there,” Bodhi urges, his impatience palpable, his resolve morphing into action. He pivots on his heel, the urgency in his voice a desperate plea. But Xaden, stepping back with a commanding presence, halts him with an outstretched hand, a barrier of authority meant to shield them all from reckless decisions. “You’re kidding me, right?” Bodhi’s incredulity bursts forth, his frustration crackling in the tense atmosphere like a live wire.

“We have no idea what we’re walking into,” Xaden responds, his tone brokering no argument, slipping seamlessly into full wingleader mode. His eyes, usually warm and filled with laughter, now blaze with the cold fire of caution. 

“So we should just stand here while civilians die?” Bodhi counters, his voice rising, a mixture of anger and desperation intertwining with the urgency of the moment.

“You know that’s not what he’s saying, Bodhi,” I protest, my words quiet yet firm, still recovering from the panic that clawed at my throat moments before. 

“This isn’t a fucking training exercise, Bodhi,” Xaden interjects, his voice steady but edged with a harrowing truth. “Some—if not all—of us are going to die if we go down there.” A knowing look flickers in his eyes as he glances at me, a silent acknowledgment of the horrors we’ve faced. I can feel the weight of that shared knowledge, the images of loss pressing against my consciousness, threatening to drown me.

“If we’d been assigned to an active wing, there would be far older, more experienced leadership making this decision, but there aren’t. If we weren’t marked with rebellion relics, if we hadn’t been aiding the enemy”—his gaze darts to mine briefly, the implications heavy—“we wouldn’t even be here with this choice. So, all command structure aside, what are your thoughts?”

“We have the numbers,” Soleil asserts, her voice cutting through the tension, a glimmer of hope amidst the impending dread. “And air superiority.” 

“At least there aren’t any wyvern,” Violet adds, her eyes scanning the expansive sky, searching for any sign of the mythical creatures.

“Uh. What?” Bodhi’s eyebrows rise, confusion mingling with disbelief.

“Wyvern. Fables say venin created them to compete with dragons and, instead of channeling from them, channel power into them,” Violet explains, her voice laced with an unsettling calmness. 

“Yeah, let’s not borrow trouble,” Xaden shoots a sideways look at Violet before returning his gaze to the heavens, wary of the unseen dangers lurking above. 

“There are four venin and ten of us,” Garrick interjects, stepping away from the edge of the battlement, the gravity of their situation settling like a stone in the pit of my stomach.

“We have the weapons to kill them,” Liam states resolutely, turning his back on the valley, his voice strong against the tide of uncertainty. “And Deigh told me seven gryphon fliers—”

The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a deep orange hue over the battlement as Syrena emerged from the shadows of the southeastern corner, her presence a stark contrast to the encroaching chaos. 

“We’re here,” she announces. Her gaze drifted beyond the rampart, where plumes of smoke danced ominously against the twilight sky, curling up like tendrils of despair from the valley below.

“I left the rest of the drift outside once we noticed…” Her voice faltered momentarily, her shoulders dipping under the burden of her words. “…that your outpost seems to be… abandoned.” A heavy silence followed, the gravity of her statement settling in the air like a dark fog. She turned her gaze back to us, her eyes filled with a melancholy wisdom. “I’m not going to ask you to fight with us.”

“You’re not?” Garrick’s brows knitted together in disbelief, his voice barely above a whisper, an ember of hope flickering in his chest.

“No.” The sad smile that graced her lips spoke volumes, a bittersweet acceptance of the cruel realities before us. “Four of them is tantamount to a death sentence. The rest of my drift are making peace with our gods.” Her voice cracked slightly as she directed her attention to Xaden. “I came to tell you to leave. You have no clue what they’re capable of wielding. It only took two of them to bring down an entire city last month. Two. Of. Them.” Her voice hardened, and her eyes glinted with unshed tears. “We lost two drifts trying to stop them. If there are four down there…” She shook her head, the motion imbued with the weight of countless battles lost. “They’re after something, and they’re going to kill every single person in Resson to get it. Take your riot and go home while you can.”

“If we don’t help, everyone dies,” I implored, the words spilling forth from a place of deep-seated conviction. “Syrena, let us help.”

“We have dragons,” Imogen chimed in, her voice rising with a fierce determination that hung heavy in the air. “Surely that has to count for something. We’re not afraid to fight.” 

“Are you afraid to die? Have any of you seen combat?” Syrena’s voice sliced through the thick tension. The question lingered, hauntingly quiet, as the weight of truth settled upon us. No one could answer. Even the third years had merely watched from the sidelines, untouched by the horrors that awaited. “Thought not. Your dragons do count for something. They can fly you far and fast. Dragon fire won’t kill them. Only the daggers you’ve been bringing, and we have those.” 

She met Xaden’s gaze, gratitude shining through her weary expression. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. You’ve kept us alive these last couple of years and given us a fighting chance.”

“You’re going down there to die,” Xaden says matter-of-factly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife through fog. The gravity of his words weighs heavily upon us, each syllable infused with a stark reality that no one can ignore. 

“Yes.” Syrena’s affirmation is resolute, a solemn nod punctuated by the distant sound of another explosion reverberating across the valley. The air crackles with the tension of impending doom as she turns, the fabric of her cloak swirling around her like a tempest, her posture unyielding as she strides back down the rampart, head held high. 

Xaden’s jaw clenched tightly, muscles taut with the weight of his conflicting emotions, the battle raging within his eyes. 

“I won’t leave,” I declare to Desa.

“Sgaeyl and I feel the same.” Desa’s voice breaks through, steady and unwavering.

“Sgaeyl says she has never run from a fight, and today will not be the first. And I’m not going to stand by while innocent people are dying, either.” Xaden shakes his head, his expression a mixture of fierce resolve and protective caution. “But I’m not going to order any of you to join me. I’m responsible for all of you. None of you crossed that parapet because you wanted to. None of you. You crossed it because I made a deal. I’m the one who forced you into the quadrant, so I won’t think less of anyone who wants to fly for Eltuval instead. Make your choice.”

“What deal?” I ask through our channel, my heart pounding in my chest, the urgency of the moment pressing down upon us like a lead weight.

“Live and I’ll tell you everything,” he replies, the promise hanging tantalizingly in the air.

“We’re riders,” Imogen interjects, her voice rising defiantly as another explosion shatters the silence. “We defend the defenseless. That’s what we do.” 

“You saved every single one of us here, cousin,” Bodhi adds, the gratitude in his tone underscored by an unwavering commitment. “And we’re thankful. Now, I’d like to do what we’ve trained for, and if it means I don’t go home, then I guess my soul will be commended to Malek. I wouldn’t mind seeing my mother anyway.” 

My heart aches at his words, for in this somber reality, the notion of dying for the right cause offers a bittersweet solace—if we perish today, perhaps we’d find peace in the embrace of those we’ve lost.

“I’ll tell you the same thing I did after Threshing our first year when we decided to start smuggling weaponry out,” Garrick says, his voice steady yet tinged with a familiarity that brings a sense of comfort. The weight of those memories hangs between us, a testament to our shared survival through the harsh trials we’ve faced. “You kept us alive all these years; we get to decide how we die. I’m with you.”

“You’ll tell me about Threshing too?” I ask, a knot of anticipation tightening in my chest.

“Everything, my love. No more secrets.” His eyes glimmer with a sincerity that calms the storm of uncertainty raging inside me.

“Exactly!” Soleil interjects, her fingers drumming against the hilt of the dagger sheathed at her thigh, the sharp sound echoing like a heartbeat amid the chaos of our decisions.

“I’m in.” Liam steps forward, resolute, positioning himself firmly by my side. “We watched as our parents were executed because they had the courage to do the right thing. I’d like to think my death would be just as honorable.” His words spill forth like molten steel, forged in the furnace of his grief and rage.

“Agreed.” Imogen nods, her fierce spirit evident in the set of her jaw. The solidarity we share ignites a flicker of hope amidst the encroaching darkness.

One by one, our collective resolve solidifies until only Violet and I remain uncertain, caught in the tempest of choices laid before us. 

“I won’t stop you,” Xaden tells me, his voice low and edged with concern. “But I’d prefer you far away from here.” His protective instinct is palpable, a shield against the cruel fate that looms over us.

“My mom died on the wrong side of history,” I reply, the weight of my conviction anchoring my heart. “I won’t.”

“Violet?” Liam questions gently, the attention shifting to her, the lone soul untouched by rebellion until now. 

She studies each of us, her eyes darting back and forth as if weighing the gravity of our fate. As much as I’ve despised her presence since she joined our ranks, the thought of her perishing here feels insufferable. Keeping her alive could mean safeguarding Xaden as well.

“I’ve been defenseless, and now I’m a rider. Riders fight.” Her declaration rings out, a clarion call echoing our shared destiny. 

I watch Xaden’s expression shift through a kaleidoscope of emotions, his concern for Violet battling against the fierce loyalty he carries for us all. In this moment of uncertainty, I cling to the flicker of hope he once offered, knowing that it’s that very light that can guide us through the encroaching darkness.

“Liam. Give me a report,” Xaden commands, his voice cutting through the tension, a beacon of direction amid our collective determination. 

As the plan unfolds, everyone will focus on the Venin threat and the imperative task of evacuating civilians, while Garrick and I watch from the skies, providing recon while I have the silent permission to alter our course if need be. 

“The only way to take them out is by dagger,” Xaden reminded the group, the gravity of our mission pressing down upon us like an impending storm.

“That means we’ll have to dismount and fight once we get the townspeople to whatever safety we can find,” Garrick adds, his expression set in grim lines, each word a reminder of the peril we’re choosing to face.

Xaden nods, the weight of leadership settling on his shoulders. “Save as many people as you can. Let’s go.”

Everything happens so fast, a relentless tide crashing over us. One moment, I’m focused intently on relaying vital information to Xaden, our words barely cutting through the cacophony of chaos surrounding us. The air is thick with tension, anticipation crackling like static electricity in the atmosphere. Then, without warning, a streak of red blazes through the sky, hurtling towards Tairn and Violet. My heart leaps into my throat, a primal instinct screaming danger.

“Liam!” I shout, urgency lacing my voice as I watch Tairn and Deigh besieged by a swarm of wyverns, their monstrous forms slicing through the air with razor-sharp talons. The world narrows to a singular focus. “I need you!” I call for Xaden. 

“I’m hunting the Venin at the walls!” Xaden’s voice cuts through the din, laced with determination and fear. 

“Please,” I responded, desperation rising like bile in my throat.

“If I leave, these civilians are all dead!” Xaden insists, his resolve hard as iron. “You can do this!”

The weight of his words strikes me deep. I can do this. Adrenaline surges through my veins, igniting a fierce fire in my heart. “We need to get the wyverns away from Deigh!” I urge Desa, who nods without hesitation, her wings unfurling as she dives toward the incoming beast.

Tairn is desperately trying to shake off the wyvern clinging to Deigh, its talons embedded deep in his scales, but his efforts seem futile against the creature’s relentless onslaught. 

“Deigh!” Liam’s voice rings out, a sound that sends icy fear swirling through my chest.

“Hold on, Liam, please!” I cry, pouring every ounce of my heart into our shared connection, hoping he can feel my desperation.

“Wren?” he gasps, his voice strained.

“We’re on our way!” Xaden's reassurance filters through, but even Desa’s fierce determination can't mask the dread pooling in my stomach. 

“It’s too late.”

And then, the piercing shriek fills the air, a harbinger of dread that will haunt my every nightmare. “DEIGH!” I feel Desa’s mourning echo in the very marrow of my bones. 

“We’re too late,” I whisper, my voice cracking as I watch Violet rush toward Deigh’s fallen body. Desa lands beside me, and I slide off, running to Violet, who struggles to keep Liam’s weakening form upright. They stumble, and I dive to his side, the world blurring around me. 

“Wrennie,” he coughs, and my heart shatters. 

“I’m here,” I say, grasping his hand, the warmth slipping away.

“You were…” His voice falters, and I feel like I'm choking on the weight of the moment as I gaze up at Violet. Her face, streaked with tears, radiates despair as she cradles Liam’s other hand. “You were in my head, like Deigh could.”

“Yea, Li. It’s my signet,” I reply, letting out a heavy sigh, ignoring Violet’s reaction to my words.

“That’s cool.” He manages to force out a laugh, but it’s riddled with pain, a sound that twists like a knife in my heart. “Take care of Sloane for me, both of you?”

“No.” Violet’s voice trembles, her shock morphing into fervent denial as she tears her gaze from me, a lifeline slipping through her fingers. “You’ll be there. You have to be there.”

“Promise me, Wrennie.” Liam’s focus shifts to me, his eyes reflecting a vulnerability that makes my heart ache. “She’ll need someone. Just… don’t let her be alone.”

“I promise.” A tear escapes, trailing down my cheek. “I got her, Li.”

“Good. That’s good.” He forces a weak smile, the dimple that usually brings warmth now a ghost of joy that fades far too quickly. “And I know you feel betrayed, but Xaden needs you. Please hear him out.”

“Okay,” I nod, swallowing the lump of conflicting emotions lodged in my throat. “I can’t promise I won’t stab him though.”

“I’m counting on it.” His sigh resonates in the tense air, a rattle that pierces the silence with its fragility. “Just show him you're still here.” 

He turns to Violet, whose cries grow louder, each sob echoing the grief that hangs heavy around us as I feel the pulse beneath Liam's skin start to slow.

“Thank you, Liam. Thank you for being my shadow. Thank you for being my friend.” The words tumble out, imbued with the depth of our shared memories, each moment a thread in the tapestry of our lives.

“It’s been… my honor.” The wind picks up, swirling around us as if trying to carry away the sorrow, but it only amplifies the cries of Xaden as he approaches, despair etched into his features. 

“No, Liam.”

“Deigh,” Liam pleads with Xaden, who quickly moves to lift him, a fierce determination in his eyes. 

“I know, brother. I’ll take you.”

In that moment, I push back into Liam’s mind, desperately seeking the door, the void beyond fading with each beat of his heart. I force forward the bright moments, clinging to the essence of who he is as I watch Xaden lower him to Deigh’s shoulder, my heart heavy with the weight of impending loss.

I pull the memories from when his mother would bring him to Aretia on her visits, each recollection flooding my mind like the gentle rush of a stream. I can almost feel the sun-drenched warmth of those days, the laughter echoing through the vibrant halls of Xaden’s home, a place that once felt so safe. How the five of us—Garrick, Bodhi, Xaden, Liam, and I—would race through those corridors, our feet barely touching the ground as we chased after fleeting moments of joy. The fields outside were a canvas of green, where we’d tumble and play, the scent of wildflowers dancing in the air, our shouts mingling with the whispers of the wind.

The late nights when Liam and I would huddle in the library, pages turning like the fluttering of wings as we devoured every book we could find. Garrick and Xaden would eventually have to carry us to our rooms when we fell asleep by the hearth. Those last days together before I left, where every laugh, every smile, every hug seemed to etch themselves into the very fabric of my heart, now echo in the silence around us.

I slowly walk to them, still pulling memories like fragile threads as I kneel beside Xaden. His arm wraps around me and Liam’s pale face, and for a fleeting moment, I swear it gets brighter, a soft glow of hope in the midst of despair. 

“Make up. For me.” He whispers, but I can sense the heaviness in his fading voice, a plea that carries the weight of his love. “I always wanted to find what you two have.” 

“We’ll work it out, brother. I promise.” Xaden’s voice wavers, and I hadn’t even realized he was crying until now, the tears mingling with the anguish in the air.

I nod along with Xaden’s promise. “Nothing could keep us apart.” The truth is, I don’t know if we’ll ever come back from this, but I’d say anything to put Liam at ease as I watch each of his breaths become a struggle against the inevitable.

We look up at the sound of wingbeats, the sky darkening with dozens of wyvern soaring overhead, a stark reminder of the battle that still looms. I turn my gaze back down, seeing Liam’s head lolled to the side, his eyes unblinking, and a surge of sorrow grips my heart. 

“Goodbye, Liam.” I cry, my voice cracking, as Xaden releases a heart-wrenching scream. I pull him into my arms, our shared grief spilling into the open air, raw and unyielding. “We have to finish this, Xay. For Liam.” 

“I can’t—” Xaden gasps, pulling back to look at me and then at Liam, torn between the present and the loss. “I can’t leave him.” 

“I’ll stay,” I promise. “Desa and I will keep the wyvern away, but you need to go help.” 

Xaden nods, determination hardening his features as he stands, pulling me up with him. “Stay alive. So we can talk.” His hand rests on my cheek, forcing me to look into his eyes, a silent vow passing between us. 

“You too.” I nod, the weight of his gaze anchoring me. 

With a gentle press of his lips to my forehead, Xaden sprints toward Violet and their dragons, the urgency of the moment propelling him forward. 

“Desa,” I start, but she’s already beside me, fierce and resolute. 

“No one gets to them.” 

“Garrick!” I call, my voice strained and raw, slicing through the aftermath of chaos as I watch the last wyvern crash to the earth in a plume of dust and blood. My heart beats heavily in my chest, each thud a reminder of the grief lingering in the corners of my mind, but the sight of my cousin sprinting toward me only brings relief.

“Wrenley!” He envelops me in his arms, and the rush of adrenaline that has fueled my every move finally begins to ebb, leaving me feeling as fragile as a dried leaf. The warmth of his embrace is a lifeline, a momentary sanctuary. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” The words spill out, but they feel hollow as they hang in the air. My thoughts drift immediately to the bodies behind us. “Liam—”

“I know.” Garrick’s sigh is heavy with unspoken sorrow as he gently leads me toward Desa.

“Where’s Xaden?” My voice quivers, laced with anxiety as I search for him. The thought of him in danger sends a chill down my spine, a feeling I can’t shake.

“Violet was stabbed with a poison-covered knife.” Garrick's words strike like lightning, and my breath catches in my throat. “Since Sgaeyl is the fastest besides Tairn, he’s rushing her to the nearest healer. We’re going to meet him.” 

“And where is that?” The question slips out before I can filter my thoughts, desperation creeping into my tone, a thread of worry weaving through my heart.

“Home.” 

next part

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[everythingmp3]

being farmer!Van’s younger lover - headcanons 𐙚 🌾

I couldnt get the idea of her as a farmer out of my head, so here are all the thoughts I had while imagining, mostly what she’d be like with a lover! I dont know much about the actual life of a farmer, so I kept her activities rather vague, it’s more about the vibe and the fantasy of it all, you get the idea <3 hope u enjoy

warnings: the second half of this is nsfw! some very brief mentions of substance abuse/addiction

her backstory:

(feel free to skip this intro if you just want the main plot)

she moved to NYC after high school, broke, not in college, unsure what to do but too stubborn to give up on her dream to live in the city she had idealized since she childhood, so she fought and bled for her right to stay, worked many bone-crushing jobs, got into friend groups with people who were also just trying to survive, which worked out in her favor for a while, but. eventually she got into the wrong kind of drugs and fell off, partying instead of working, getting fired from one job after the other, barely scraping by, somehow cheating her way out of ruin again and again, sleeping on friends couches, until she was in her mid-twenties and couldnt take it anymore, physically, spiritually, so she and her girl at the time packed their things and moved the country-side in the south, dreaming of a quiet, normal, mundane life, hoping and praying for some respite

at first, they managed, but the relationship was crumbling due to Vans refusal to address her substance abuse issues and her overall disregard for her health, her hermit lifestyle of only going to work so she could come back home and crash, so eventually they broke up, dramatically so, her ex screaming at her that she had to get her shit together or she’d die before hitting 30, which did wake her up - it hurt like hell but she knew it was true - Van was tired of everything, people, cities, even small towns, she didnt wanna see or talk to anyone, so she looked for jobs that would allow her to shut down and be quiet, which she found: an older couple, in their 50s, was looking for help at their farm nearby, in exchange for a spare room, so it was settled: she packed a few things and showed up at their door ready to leave her entire life behind and just be a pair of helping hands

she got lucky. the man and woman who ran the farm - which would be hers one day - immediately showed her a parental kind of tough love when they realized how desperately Van needed help and guidance, they didnt make her talk about it, but they could tell that she was recovering from some heavy shit, so they gave her a very clear schedule and made her stick to it, even when she was tired or grumpy, they gave her clear instructions and made her work with the animals a lot because they knew the effect that kind of contact can have on a suffering person

sure enough, Van blossomed after an initial period of disciplining her body, eating better, and growing stronger each day, it took a good amount of sweat and tears to settle in, but after a few weeks she adjusted and found out that she was much better at physical labor than she´d assumed, her stubborn streak came in handy, she pushed and pushed herself until the tasks came more easily to her. she also went to AA meetings in the area on and off, whenever she felt like she needed some extra help to stay sober

once the couple both neared their mid 60s, they were so close to Van that leaving the farm in her hands only felt natural, they didnt have any children of their own, so she was the closest thing to a daughter they ever got and trusted her to take care of their beloved spot of land well and to eventually leave it to someone else whod keep that tradition up as well (at first she felt unworthy, incapable, but they convinced her and urged her to do whatever she pleased with her little spot in the world, expressing how grateful they were for the years shed spent with them, having given them a chance to feel like someones parents later in life)

Van decided to work with groups that use animal therapy to help people who are in a tough spot in one way or another, people in rehab or people who deal with either mental or physical pain that might be eased for while by having close contact to horses - she knows first-hand what caring for animals can do for a person who is struggling with self-worth, shame, or chronic pain, so she always makes a point of inviting those groups to her farm, making it a safe haven in a way, she also lets riding instructors teach their classes there

she makes money by letting people keep their horses in the stables, taking care of them, so people can come by whenever they want to ride them, she also sells some of her produce to surrounding farmers markets, its not a ton of money but more than enough to get by and live a comfortable life

how you started dating

your college town is near her farm and you decided to stay there during summer because the season is beautiful out there and its enough for you to back to your hometown for a few weeks during August before the next semester starts

one day you were a bit reckless and walked out further beyond the town limits than you usually did because the weather was so nice and you wanted to see some some pretty fields, but you underestimated the heat and had to take a break somewhere because you were afraid you might pass out and couldnt just turn around and walk all the way back

the tree you decided to take shelter under for a moment was right at the entrance of Vans farm and she come out to check on you because she saw you sitting there in the midday heat and got worried that something was wrong or that someone might have ditched you by the side of the road, since she wasnt used to having strangers wandering around out there

you were a bit embarrassed at first when she she said "hey there, you okay?" but you she was sweet from the get-go, joking around a bit, asking you what on earth made you come out there in that intense weather, gently chastising you for your lack of drinks and snacks, she ended up urging you to come inside and rest and cool down, to eat and drink something so you could regain your strength before going back home

you got along immediately, it took less than a few minutes for you to talk about anything and everything as she prepared some iced coffee, iced tea, and fresh blueberry pancakes for you - you told her again and again that she was being way too nice but Van insisted and told you that she spent more than enough time on her own, so once you werent hungry or thirsty anymore and seemed more lively again, she gave you a tour of and introduced you to her cats which was a sure way to get you to stay for longer (maybe that was calculated on her part)

after a while of you laughing and enjoying your time together, she offered to drive you back to your place and gave you a little pot of homemade jam to try as a parting gift, a raspberry vanilla mix that tasted divine and was your breakfast of choice for the coming days. as you said goodbye that night in the car parked outside your house she said "come by whenever you want, really, you dont even have to ring, just walk around to the porch and I will be around somewhere" which felt like flirting, not just southern hospitality, so you promised that you would take her up on it, your skin tingling where her arms rested when you said goodbye, her voice a bit strained when she told you goodbye, as if she was flustered from embracing someone that way, a sign that it had been a while maybe, a sudden rush of hope on your part that she wasnt seeing anyone, that you werent delusional to think that she might have been less friendly with strangers who didnt intrigue her, who werent as easy on the eyes to her..

she’d confess to you a while later that she didnt give you her number or asked for yours because she knew that shes a horrible texter and enjoyed the idea of being surprised by another visit by you, she also liked the vibe of leaving the ball entirely in your court, the fact that she had no way of reaching out to you and had to trust that you would keep your connection going (this same energy is palpable whenever she waits for you to come and touch her, she loves pushing your patience to make you initiate intimacy, even when its just a hug, thats her preferred way of teasing)

for the next few days you couldnt get her out of your head and kept clinging to the memory of how hot shed looked: dressed in a white tank-top and jeans that were cut off at the knee, working boots and white socks, her bronzed heavily freckles skin glowing in the midday sun, just like her wavy hair that seemed to burn like flames in that light, her cheeks and lips rosy from the heat, her voice raspy and low, her calves toned, just like her shoulders and arms... you remembered how your knees had touched when you sat outside on the steps together for a moment, how your fingers had brushed when shed handed you a glass, how shed looked at you while you ate the food shed made you, attentive, curious, and intense, like she was holding something back, the same way you had been. it was torture. you couldnt stop obsessing over every little look shed given you, everything shed said, reading into all of it until you were certain you werent just imagining the instant chemistry

after a few days of holding back, you couldnt wait any longer and went back to her place, and just as you stepped into her house it started thundering and pouring rain, which immediately made the atmosphere intimate and private as she lit some candles and put on all the warm orange tinted lamps to offer a contrast to the dark storm outside - you played it cool at first, but it was clear that you hadnt just come back for no reason, and the tension made both of you a little nervous at first, thrilled too though, pleased by the sense of "she feels the same way, doesnt she?"

one thing lead to another, some jokes at first, then more earnest words, you confessing "I thought of you a lot the past few days, you were so sweet to me" her brushing it off "basic decency" you caving and coming to sit next to her, a pleading look on your face, a bit of fear on hers, held breaths, beating hearts, soft eyes, you taking the leap, kissing her eagerly until she gently broke it and needed a second to breathe, to calm her burning nerves, so you told her to keep touching you, to just keep her hands on you, so she did, grabbing at you until she was ready to continue, dying to - a switch flipped in her when she felt you going slack in her embrace, sighing from the feel of her palms on your back, your arms, your face, a bruising kiss from her that quickly turned into more and more and until your clothes were scattered next to the couch and the rain kept clashing against the windows as you got lost in each other, kissing and touching and grinding up against each other, making each other come just from a few touches, using your burst of passion and intense sensitivity to each others presence to keep going and going, finally ending up in her bed, making out for ages, taking turns making each other moan and surrender

that night you slept over and the next morning you laughed about how cliché it was for her to invite you to move in for the summer before even having gone on a proper date, but! you couldnt have cared less, you were so overjoyed at the idea, both of you agreeing that it would be unnecessary to make you take the drive over to her place every day (she had no idea what got into her when she just straight up asked you if you wanted her to help you get some of your stuff so you could stay with her as long as you wanted because it had been so long since shed: a) had anything romantic going on b) had sex with someone and c) didnt shudder at the idea of sharing her space with a lover, quite the opposite, that first morning she woke up to the sight of you there in her bed, all peaceful and content and warm to the touch, she wondered how shed gone all those years without it

sfw

Van quickly comes to love the feeling of never knowing when she might turn a corner and see you laying in the sun on a blanket, in your bikini or underwear, tanning, or reading, or napping - she always stops in her tracks and takes a moment to just look at you while youre blissfully unaware, until the urge to touch takes over - unlike others, shed never think its funny to startle you by splashing water on you or taking your headphones off or anything, shes as gentle as possible, always, either lowering herself until she can press a soft kiss to your back, or picking a flower to lightly sweep over your arm <3 you usually pull her down onto the blanket and get all over her to keep her from walking away and continuing her work, which shes helpless against, shes never denied you, not once, always caving

loveees seeing you in her clothes! when you put a flannel of hers over your shoulders if it gets a bit chilly at night, or when you jokingly try on her working boots, she lets you steal whatever you want from her wardrobe and has a particular thing for seeing you in jeans of hers that are a bit too lose on you because theyre worn out, when you kneel down and she can see your underwear peeking out at the top... you wont stay in those jeans for too long, lets put it that way.

shes always been good about sun screen, its the one self-care aspect she never abandoned even during her worst times, but! she usually never splurged on the expensive kind, she used generic cheap sun screen until you started dating and you gave her some fancier kind, selfishly picking a scented one, a mix of vanilla and coconut because you knew it would mix very well with her sweat while working and the tabacco when she smokes - you also help her apply it, its ritual she came to cherish deeply, the way you carefully apply it not just on her face and arms but where she cant reach, always savoring the feeling of your palms massaging the creme into her back because she used to have to bend herself herself into a pretzel to apply it to her shoulder blades and the surrounding area (you dont care that it tastes bitter when you kiss her on her freshly lotioned nose <3)

when Ethel Cain said "he looks like he works with his hands and smells like Marlboro Reds" yeah thats her… the cigs are her little vice that she allows herself to keep, she doesn’t chain smoke, it’s more of a relaxation thing, usually not more than two a day, sometimes she also goes a while without any, and you dont convince her to quit because she looks too hot smoking 💘 you love those warm late nights where you sit on the porch together, your legs on her lap, her free hand massaging you as she stares off into the distance and smokes (you also got her nice lighter at the thrift store, gold with an etching of a pin-up model, it was more of a joke but she loves it)

for obvious reasons she much prefers cats over dogs and when you started dating one of her cats was heavily pregnant, so you ended up staying in the barn with her for an entire night when the cat gave birth to make sure it all went well, to see that the kittens were all healthy, and it made her fall for you even more, the care and adoration with which you handled the little babies and soothed the mother after she gave birth to all three of them, she also let you pick the names <3 you love to joke by saying "she’s stealing my spot" whenever one of the kittens crawls up onto her chest

Van always relies on her lovers to braid her hair! whenever shes single, she just accepts the fact that her hair wont be braided until someone does it for her again, she likes being incompetent that way, she mentioned it off-handedly that she cant braid her hair at her grown age, and you took the bait immediately, offering to style it any way she wants, a smug grin on her face when you first gently parted her hair into three even strands and gave her exactly what she wanted, that soothing feeling of having her love rake her fingers through her hair, her favorite part is when youre done fuss with her front pieces a bit to make it look more effortless and natural, shes pliant as hell, lets you do whatever you want (her mommy issues havent gone away, even in her forties it does make her blush when she sits between your legs and feels you tighten her braid the way a mother might)

speaking of hair: she doesnt trust hair dressers with her hair at all because shes way too scared that theyll take off too much or give her weird layers, so she usually did an okay job cutting her own split-ends, but you decided to buy actual hair-cutting scissors and looked up a few tutorials until you felt prepared enough and gave her a nice trim, taking about half an hour to really make sure all the strands flow nicely together, and she loves it, shes gone so long without getting her hair cut by someone else that it makes the whole thing feel super intimate - also, she loves that you picked up on the fact that her hair is the one and only aspect about her appearance where she embraces a kind of femininity, its her one point of true vanity, and you taking care of it fore her is very pleasing to Van as someone who knows that people usually focus on her more masculine traits when they call her hot, warms her heart that you take care of her hair like its your own :)

youll often cut up some fruit for her or bring her a bottle of cold water when shes been out in the soon for a little too long, its a simple thing but she remembers how it was to never have anyone do those little things for her, its special for her and makes the work feel a little easier on her not-super-young bones <3

she has a medium sized tattoo on her left hipbone that she got in her 20s and for the longest time she hated it because she didnt have enough money back then to get it done by an actually good artist, so the lines are kinda faded over time, but.. once you started dating, she realized how hot you think its looks, so she started using it to tease you, relentlessly, stretching her arms over her head on purpose so her shirt rides up and you can see the top of the tattoo peeking out above her waistband, more times than not youll get handsy with her and pay her back for tempting you (as if that wasnt her goal all along)

for a long time her polaroid camera just collected dust but one day she got the urge to take pictures of you around the farm, which started out innocent at first (you caressing the horses, laying in the sun, leaning against the fence, picking berries) but it quickly turned more and more erotic, you shed your clothes, she took some pics of you in your underwear, you convinced her to caress your face and put her thumb in your mouth while taking a picture of that, which got her good, so eventually you abandoned all shame and told her to get some milk so she could pour it in your open mouth and over your chest and take a picture of that, you in the grass.. kneeling... eyes closed.. mouth open.. milk dripping down your chin... shameless vulgarity, but so incredibly hot to her that she ended up putting the camera down and licking you clean. both of you laughing in the grass afterwards once you realized what you just did (she keeps a few of those pictures on her wallet, old fashioned romance is her thing sometimes)

she taught you how to properly ride a horse and definitely almost had a heart attack the first few times your horse picked up the pace, she always makes sure youre safe - you sometimes take the horses to a nearby forest and leisurely ride through it, slowly, chatting and laughing and holding hands whenever your horses are close enough to do that (you also fore sureee convince her to take you out on her horse sometimes, you love holding onto her waist and resting your head on her back)

her farm is so lush and rich in color during spring and early summer!💐 flowers of all kinds bloom all over the place, and before you were dating she never bothered to pick some of them for inside decor, felt kinda silly to her as the only one living in her house, she was never the type to play homemaker just for the sake of it, but you lovee picking little bouquets for her, you always take note of which flowers she points at and calls pretty, so next time you gather more of that kind, it became a sweet ritual for you to put little vases with all kinds of wildflowers around the house and she for sure dried the first bouquet you ever made for her and keeps it on her dresser or pressed in a book <3

one of your favorite things to do with her is to go out for a big dinner after shes been working hard all day! shell be starving by that time, so nothing feels better to her than sitting down at her favorite sandwich shop or restaurant or fast food chain and devouring a greasy salty comfort meal - I think she fucks with veggie burgers when theyre drenched in good sauce, pizza with a good amount of toppings, spicy too, I think shed dip everything in hot sauce, shed also love mexican food I think like a good burrito with a bunch of fresh ingredients and chips and salsa on the side, anything thats savory and mixes a bunch of textures! you dont do it too often because she does try to eat rather healthy but once or twice a week you both need it and cherish it, you will sit there for a while just eating and chatting and sharing a bunch of side dishes, people watching or gossiping, her giving you inside scoop when she sees a familiar face, making small talk here and there while referring to you as her "friend" even though nobodys naive enough to believe that thats all you are, still, she likes being coy about it

you realize that all the people who own her favorite spots know and love her, so they give her bigger servings and drinks on the house, which you benefit from as well ;)

if you have a difficult relationship with food or simply dont take good enough care of yourself diet wise, thats gonna be taken care of with her, always - Van prides herself on her harvest of fruits and veggies, the time and care she puts in them each season, she collects fresh eggs from her chickens, bakes her own bread, makes a beautiful summer salad that she perfected over the years with some strawberry slices and honey vinegar dressing and a bunch of different greens and cucumber to make it fresh and delicious, among other recipes that she makes you try and approve of - you eat wellll and healthy with her, and you take up baking because you wanna repay her for her cooking and know that she has a sweet tooth! she also keeps fresh home-made iced tea and a bunch of other beverages that you both enjoy in the fridge at all times when its hot and keeps reminding you to drink, you wont be dehydrated on her watch!

when she was younger it was a sign of luxury to her when she was over at a friends house and their family had Ben and Jerrys ice cream instead of the no-name brands, so as an adult she likes buying all those little things that used to seem expensive to her, and you two sometimes share a pot on particularly hot days, trying all the flavors and rating them, you kept a sheet with the scores, and its a thing she looks look forward to, going to the store and picking your flavor for the night <3 (she’s partial to anything with caramel and doesnt really care much for the ones that are heavy on the chocolate, prefers the creamy vanilla bases ones, she also always lets you scoop out the last few bites, whereas you let her have the first few spoonfuls (you also like to fuck with her by kissing her while you still have some ice cream in your mouth and transfer it onto her tongue with a sloppy kiss, she pretends its nasty but shes turned on by it, every time)

she likes to pretend shes a grumpy anti-tech country woman who hates all things pop culture but she does love that youre teaching her things here and there about whats going on, shes been so out of touch with everything that its fun for her to have someone there who gets a kick out of trying to explain a new slang term to her or a trend thats happening on social media or gossip about celebrities (you sometimes jokingly speak in a way that sounds obnoxious and like something a teenager on tiktok would say just to watch her give you a look of utter confusion and disbelief, like telling her that she has "rizz" when she says something smooth, laughing when she says "jesus christ do I even wanna know what that means...")

even though shes worked with animals for years and years it never got easier for her to watch any of them suffer, shes a huge softie! none of them are "just" animals to her, ever, doesnt matter if its a horse or a cow or a chicken or animals that arent "hers" but live around the farm like little mice or birds, she always feels her heart shatter when one of the animals gets sick or needs medicine or a visit from the vet, she keeps it together on the outside but youve consoled her a few times when she was scared that an animal might not make it or be in too much pain - she also still tears up whenever she talks about her cat who passed away five years ago, she still misses her sometimes and youre the first person shes shared that grief with bc she feels safe with you, its nice for her not to shed her tears in the dark by herself when shes scared of a possible loss or feels haunted by yelps that a sick animal made, you always reassure her that shes doing her best and that any animal would be lucky to end up there with her <3

loves to make you do little physical tasks with her so she can watch you struggle with something thats muscle memory for her, its very amusing to her when you get pissed off and start groaning and eventually give up and tell her to do it by herself because youre clearly too slow with it, shell say things like "come on, lets put those young bones to good use" and gesture at you to follow her and you always act like a petulant child even though you clearly love being bosses around by her and watching her be much better at whatever it is that youre doing together, sometimes youll just sit and blatantly stare at her while shes doing strenuous work so you can watch her break a sweat and jokingly cat-call her

she keeps to herself but she built strong connections with a good amount of people in the area over the years, so shes never truly isolated or unable to require help when she needs, people know they can count on her and that shes about as reliable as they come, so she often comes home with a basket of fresh peaches or a few bottles of freshly made syrup or coffee grounds because people like her and treat her like a daughter/sister/friend depending on how old they are (I like to think theres a mutual aid sentiment that she sticks to, shell give money where she can to those who need it because theyve also helped her out before)

on that note, she is usually way too stubborn to ask for support but if you get sick, she calls some people who can help her around the farm, so she has the time to tend to you and doesnt have to leave you alone in bed all day <3

you offer her massages whenever she seems a bit tense or worn out, sometimes youll just come up behind her and start massaging her neck and shell say "baby im okay really" at first, but then audibly gasp as you knead away some tension, melting under your touch and making little "hmm" sounds

she loves ending her day by sitting on the couch with you and watching a show or a film together while snuggling, she used to spend all of her nights alone, so the simple act of eating dinner together and then watching something with you is a luxury to her that she savors every time <3

you convince her to venture out a bit more than she usually did, so you end up taking little trips to more urban cities nearby (ones that are 1-3 hours away) and have fun days there, trying out cafes and restaurants, browsing through stores, getting some clothes (you know she likes brands like Carharrt and splurge on stuff here), getting drinks if you stay until nightfall, watching movies at the cinema, or just walking around and seeing where the day takes you

during the road trips you are in charge of the aux because her music is too depressing for summer days.. she has no idea how to curate a playlist thats lighthearted and fun, so she leaves it to you (I can see her enjoying it when you blast like an Oasis song that she remembers from her youth and make her sing along to it because you know damn well she remembers the lyrics)

also! you love to fuck with her by putting the most vulgar rap you can find on full volume, blasting lyrics that make her look at you in shock while asking “is this what you fucking listen to?? really?" only half-serious about it, you catch her smiling when shes imagining herself in the place of the guy saying out of pocket shit about his girl

you like to do the laundry because you never got to hang it up to dry in a beautiful spot of land like that before - it feels cinematic to you in a way when youre standing there clipping your shirts to the clothesline with the wind blowing in your hair and the horses nearby, but! Van does the laundry that has to be hand-washed, she likes the attentive act of getting out all the little stains in clothes that are too delicate for the washing machine, she has her tricks to get even the most annoying red sauce stains out, and she also has a thing for washing your underwear, something about washing her lovers intimate clothes is very romantic to her, so you let her do it even though you were a bit embarrassed about it at first

regardless of your usual style you started dressing a bit more "country" to fit her vibe and it’s hot to her - she likes when you thrift stuff like white linen dresses or shorts, cowboy boots, belts with bigger brass buckles, you always ask her for her opinion and maybe drag her to the store with you so she can decide what you try out next (she’d make you get a skimpy bikini for lake days, for sure, you’d be like "this is too much...." and she’d just say "not in my eyes" and buy it for you)

loveees to share all of her knowledge with you but in a teasing way, she likes to play teacher and make you memorize the names of plants and flowers, so she can randomly point at one and ask "whats that one called again, hm?" fully aware that you forgot, repeating it to you and asking again the next day, which makes you shove her and roll your eyes but shell press for an answer like "I didnt hear you baby"

you introduce her to the app that can identify all kinds of bird calls and she gets over her skepticism really fast and becomes obsessed with it, whenever youre in the forest by the lake or just out in nature and she hears an unfamiliar call she gets so thrilled when the app shows her a picture of the bird shes hearing, and she definitely makes you remember the names of her favorite birds and gets offended when you forget them, drilling you like a teacher until theyre seared into your brain

she knows from her own experience that the best way to beat a depressive mood is to get outside and find something to do, so whenever she can tell that youre feeling a bit off or blue she makes you follow her somewhere so she can try and cheer you up :) one afternoon when you were kinda sad she took you cherry-picking and lifted you up on her shoulders so you could reach all the cherries further up and your mood switched completely without you even being conscious of it, she’s great at coaxing joy out of you whenever you need it

in general you felt your nervous system recover from any stress you mightve dealt with before during those days where your senses were never overstimulated by too much noise or too many people around or a lack of access to fresh air and pretty nature, she never outright said it but she definitely kept her eye on you and made sure you felt better than you did when shed first met you, even just sitting in the grass and feeling the earth beneath you and hearing the natural noise of the farm for a few minutes often helps you unwind and relax 🕊️

you know from what she told you about her past that she never got to be carefree as a kid/teenager, that she had to grow up way too fast, so you make her do little things with you that girls might do at sleepovers, like putting on face masks or playing online games or buying little arts and crafts kits to make each other keychains and! you convince her to get one of the mystery boxes with little figurines in them like those sylvanian family animals, which you end up keeping on the windows isle, adding to them whenever you indulge in the frivolous joy of ripping open a package without knowing which little creature youll get (shes the type to put on a poker-face or make sarcastic remarks during the whole thing to disguise how much fun shes actually having)

master of home remedies! whether its a rash or a burn or a cut, she knows exactly what salve or creme to apply, she has a bunch of teas for any kind of ailment, stomach pain, period cramps, headaches, she knows how to dress any kind of wound (because shes had to patch herself up, many times) so any kind of pain youre in, shes gonna do her very best to relieve you of it (not just by giving you head, although thats always worth a try, to her)

shes somehow alwaaays chewing on something, either gum, or tooth picks, or even just random pieces of grass (which you make fun of her for, lovingly) its pretty rare that she goes a whole day without reaching for something to mindlessly chew on (one time you offered her your finger and said "if you need to always have something in your mouth... here" and she swatted your hand away and told you off but the blush on her face betrayed her because she does love to have your fingers in her mouth, she cant help it)

loves to kiss you on your hands/knuckles, the chivalrous feel of it, the devotion, its just a go-to move for her and you never ever tire of it or lose those butterflies you felt the first time she did it

her other favorite places to kiss on your body while youre not undressed are your cheeks and your shoulders!

sometimes she worries that youll get bored of spending all your days out there with her so she makes it clear that shed drive you to a friends place and be fine with it if you needed a few a days away (blatant lie, she wouldnt be fine) but you make it clear that youre not interesting in going anywhere, unless its together with her! you love your new routine of having time to yourself in the house or outside until shes done working and you spend the rest of the day together

she might be sober but she’ll gladly make you a nice cocktail or buy you a drink every once in a while because she thinks its very cute when youre tipsy and get even more touchy-feely and affectionate with her than usual

you like to spoil her by giving her hands some love, she uses them so much that she needs to use very moisturizing thick cremes and youll take some of that and massage her hand and and really make sure it seeps into her skin, sometimes shell just lay in bed at night and let you work away at her hands as she almost dozes off from how good it feels <3

nsfw

one might think she has less energy when shes been working hard all day but its actually the opposite, whenever shes breathing heavy and sweating and her blood is rushing from the strain of the heat combined with her physical work, she is so easily turned on by the sight of you, its primal in way, so sometimes when she comes inside all dirty and sweaty and flushed you can tell just from the look she gives you that youre about to be ruined (she will drag you to bed, tear your clothes off and lick and kiss and bite you all over, she gets so into it so fast that all you can do is lay back and make pretty sounds for her as she gets all the pent up energy out of her system, which is a new pleasure for her, the pleasure after-work sex)

shes a very even mix of gentle and aggressive! even though shes much stronger than you, she doesnt get off on the idea of domination, it turns her on way more to think that she is your protector when you when youre having sex, while youre in your most vulnerable state, it turns her on to know that she can hold you in a way that makes you feel weak and eager to sink deeply into that weakness, always gripping you and handling you with a firmness that feels caring and loving no matter how nasty the sex is (she could be in the middle of losing her mind while deep inside you but shed never let that lust and hunger turn her careless or too harsh, you know youll never feel used with her, no matter how hard you fuck, its always tinged with tenderness)

shes strong. very strong….shes been handling animals who weigh much more than the average human for years and when you first started dating you definitely felt a rush when she first grabbed you and you felt the sheer strength of her, it drove you crazyyy to feel how easy it was for her to pull you onto her lap or flip you over or carry you around 😵‍💫

at first, she held back, but when you told her that you trust her and want her to really make you feel how strong she is, she started to get into it during sex, holding you in place or wrapping her arms around you so tight and firm that you mightve just come from that sensation alone... she has stamina that never runs out and prides herself on it, but! when youre giving... its over. doesnt matter how physically strong she is, how firm her muscles are, shes so sensitive to your touch that all of her strength melts away that moment your touch your tongue to her or feel her up or fuck her, shes definitely less composed when youre inside of her than you are when shes in you, she whines and moans so intensely...

shes for sureee big into overstimulation, shes an eager giver when she tops, through and through, so she’ll keep going and going until youre shaking and sweating through the sheets, never in a way that’s punishing, always kissing and caressing you all the way through, whispering sweet things as you come for the fourth or fifth time and eventually tap out, laying on top of her, both of you drenched head to toe but so satisfied, so in love, dozing off until an hour later when you clean up and devour some good food together <3

her sex-drive is prettyyy high but its a consistent thing so she’ more of a "whenever youre down, im down, just tell me" type of person, whereas your bursts of desire are more intense and out of the blue, youre more needy and desperate with it, which works out well because sometimes shell just sit back and wait for you to come onto her, aware that it hardly ever takes long for you to get gripped by a feeling of "i need her now or ill die"

will take risks when it comes to having sex outside, any time, its her property, her land, so she will use it as she sees fit, which includes having you wherever and whenever you two feel like it - it’s rare that youre actually in danger of having someone walk up and see you, but it’s definitely happened once or twice that you lost track of time while messing around in the stables and someone quickly turned back around while coughing loudly to signal to you "wrap it up, people are coming", which always makes her feel kind of smug, the fact that people know damn well how lucky she is, having a girl like you to pull into a stack of hay, savoring the sweet dusty smell of the surroundings mixed with the taste of you while she hikes up your dress or pulls down your shorts and gives you head right there <3

it was a huge fantasy of hers, to have a lover that way, so sometimes you leave the stables with visible prints on your ass and thighs where they hay dug in, picking it off your clothes with her help, shaky legs as you leave her to deal with the people who came to ride their horses, a smile from her when she sees you struggling to walk straight as you go inside to freshen up (or jerk off, to finish what she started, telling her about it afterwards to make her get off to the idea of you in her bed touching yourself while she was outside being all professional..)

she can never ever get enough of seeing you on top of her!!whether it’s you riding her fingers or her strap, grinding down against her thigh, she doesn’t care how, all she wants is to see you lose yourself on her, she’s obsessed... 🫠

also, when shes the one fucking you, you both love using the furniture.. you bent over the kitchen table, one leg propped up on a chair so she has good access, her chest flush against your back, her kissing your neck as she holds you with her arm around your waist and gives to you from the back.. fucking you like that until she turns you back around to have you lay back and relax on the table as she finishes you off, really making use of the steady wooden table when youre squirming and losing it..

early morning sex 💘 she usually wakes up naturally around between 5 and 6 am because as a farmer her days always start pretty early and she loves when you stir and smile at her, still half-asleep and and all cozy and soft, it makes her wanna spoil you, so you often wake up to her gently moving your blanket away, so she can caress you and kiss your body and give you head, nothing too overwhelming, but enough to give you the kind of orgasm that makes you fall right back asleep all satisfied and limp and dazed from the feeling of being half-lucid half-dreaming while she ate you out

youll sleep for two more hours or so while she already gets to work, until you get up and prepare some coffee for her, so she usually takes her first break around 9am and has breakfast with you! you sometimes like to repay her for the way she woke you up by getting on your knees in front of her chair and taste her until she cant take it anymore and gets back up to continue her work, a bit scared she might mishandle a tool with the fresh memory of you looking up at her with a slick chin making her all weak and dizzy..

spit. shes more filthy than she is kinky, give her some intense loving passionate sex with a lot of spit involved and shes over the moon, loves when you spit in her mouth and then kiss her afterwards, when you lick over her chest or neck and leave a glistening trail where your tongue traveled up, when you suck on her fingers to lube them up before she fingers you or jerks you off, when you give her strap sloppy head before taking it all the way in with ease because youre so turned on and it is so wet with your saliva, loves when you let your spit drool onto her cunt before you eat her out 💞

very into sensuality in general, she could spend hours just lazily playing with your pussy and feeling you get wetter and wetter without ever getting bored, she loves to just feel you, having you sit comfortably as she switches between rubbing your clit, your whole outside area, teasing your entrance, and fingering you, shes in love with your cunt and wont ever turn down the chance to just hear you whimper and whine as you relax with your legs spread while she watches your pussy swell and get wet and take her fingers - will coo at you and kiss you wherever she can reach as she tells you how good you feel, will keep it up for as long as you want and you love those moments when you dont feel pressured to orgasm because she loves touching you just for the sake of it, not to get an ego-boost from making you cum (even though she always does, youre too in love with her not to drench her fingers when shes teasing you like that and whispering in your ear)

if you squirt... yeah shes licking it all up and doing exactly what she did before to try and make it happen again, as I said shes filthyyy 😵‍💫 would get so turned on from the sight of you ruining her sheets, would shush you if you apologized and insist that you never ever hold back even if it means she has to do laundry more than usual

her tits are a weak spot, super sensitive </3 her nipples will get hard if the wind blows a little too strong... and before dating you she kinda ignored her chest for the most part but with you she rediscovered the thrill of having her tits sucked while being pleased, sometimes you’ll randomly push her onto the couch and lift up her shirt to kiss her chest just to hear her moan for a few seconds, a little treat for yourself (and her) during the day

vocal. so fucking vocal. she can never ever keep quiet and you only go harder whenever you can tell that shes trying to stifle the sounds, you want them all out in the open, and it usually takes very little time for her to lose her composure which she gets embarrassed by for sure, once the orgasm subsides shes like oh... great. I sounded like ive never had sex in my life. yet again. perfect. but you loveee it, its so hot to you that this woman who is usually perceived as tough and strong and reserved is such a mess in bed

shes spent many years with her beloved truck and for the longest time she had fantasies about fucking in there, which came true once you started dating <3 you love straddling her in her seat when youre parked somewhere secluded, or when you come home from a late night drive, youve definitely fucked in the backseat a few times when she drove you out to a lake or a nice spot where nobody else was around, you both get a thrill out of it, the leather seats, the semi-public feel of it all, the risk factor, the way the car kinda smells like sex when you drive home afterwards (you also love to gawk at her when shes fixing the truck, makes her take her sweet time with it)

loves pillow talk and savoring the post-sex glow, its something she never rushes or skips, shes will move you onto her chest and caress your back or let you lay where you are and kiss your body, eventually resting her head on your stomach so you can stroke her hair, or youll just wrap your arms around each other and stay like that for a while

that post on here thats like "dont shave your bush I will kill myself" thats something she might actually say bc she is for sure soo into bush its one of the most erotic things to her, everything about it, she loves when it tickles her nose, loves the soft feel of it when she puts her hands in your underwear to jerk you off, loves the look of it when you get dressed and your underwear is see-through enough for your bush to peek through, hottt as hell to her

if youre the type to wear lingerie, she’d be very into it, never takes it for granted - one of the hottest things ever to her is when her girl wears clothes that are not what you’d consider fancy or special while wearing the most beautiful, delicate underwear, the contrast kills her every time, the sight of a nice lacy bra peeking out of a tank top that you stole from her... phewww shes on her knees. immediately. same thing with panties, she always interrupts you when youre getting dressed to admire you when youre wearing nothing but a pair of lacy underwear, also loves when you wear regular comfortable cotton underwear, the sight of it wedged between your cheeks somehow makes her wanna take a chunk out of your ass every time.. also loves you in her boxers. everything really, shes a lover of whatever you have going on beneath your clothes <3

face sitting. being the giver in a submissive way is so deeply satisfying for her, so shell often just ask you to ride her face, you might be lying in bed in the afternoon just relaxing kissing a little and shell straight up ask if you want to use her face for a bit, shell happily lay back and use her strength to hold you up by your waist when you get tired and cant really brace yourself against the wall/headboard that well anymore, shell take it all without ever complaining, doesnt matter if you suffocate her, drench her whole face, kinda fuck up her neck, she doesnt care, shell be too drunk on the feel and taste and sight of having you on her like that, staring up at you with glazed over eyes, maybe using one hand to jerk herself off because shes too turned on and cant take it..

maybe one time she was feeling wild and told you to do it while you were wearing a dress outside, her just laying down on the lawn and telling you do it right there bc you could climb off her fast if someone did happen to come around the corner - again, she might be private and reserved but being caught isnt really an issue for her, shed just be like "and what. I will have my girl the way I want when I want, deal with it."

didnt use any toys on her own but can definitely get down with them when its with you! I think she might be too shy to suggest this but she’d absolutely lose her mind if she saw you riding a toy to get off, like you straddling it on her bed to give her the chance to see you from whatever angle she wants, unlike when youre riding her and she cant see you from far away etc. - I also think shes the type of lover who wants to know/see how you masturbate, or how you did it before you met her, its such a private thing and I think she loves the idea of being trusted with that information <3

rediscovered her love of receiving/bottoming with you - with hookups she usually only let them do things that didnt feel too vulnerable, i dont think she let any of them see her in positions that made her feel too exposed, but with you she feels safe enough to admit that she does like being on her hands and knees, that she likes to be finger-fucked until shes near tears, that she sometimes likes to just have her face in the pillows as you eat her out or touch her from the back, its not something that happens too often bc it does require a lot of trust on her part, but when shes really horny and youre being sweet and kissing her all over to get her worked up shell sometimes cave and beg you to just do whatever you want and get rough with her

especially with a younger partner shes turned on by the idea that someone who has less experience can ruin her like that, its a nice secret to have because she knows a lot of people would look at a lesbian who looks like her and assume that shes a top, but shes a switch through and through, would never give up one or the other

she wears a thin gold chain that she hardly ever takes off, so sometimes when youre fucking it dangles over your face, or you pull her in for a kiss by gently tugging at it <3

one time you found a playboy from her exact birth year and month at the antique book/magazine store and brought it home for her, which was more of a silly present but she did find it sweet/hot and left it on the coffee table as decor (you made her flip through it with you and teased her by pointing out which models you assumed she found the hottest, which she shut down by saying "well I would do the same to you right now but theyre all like what.. twenty years too young for you?", so you doubled-down and said "oh dont flatter yourself, I like women my age too", so she did briefly have a fantasy of you getting with a girl your own age as she watches you two, which struck a nerve, but she kept that to herself, at least for the time being..)

youre obsessed with her physique because she has the distinct shape of someone who earned their muscles through hard work, who didnt try to grow them out of a need to become as big as possible but who genuinely needs to be strong to do their daily tasks, so her muscles are not cartoonish or over the top, she just has a firmness to her stomach and thighs and back thats hottt as hell to you, her abs are subtle but theyre there, and your absolute weak spot: her V-line. when shes wearing a shirt thats too short to cover up the spot right above her pants and you can see those lines that lead down into her underwear.. it’s over. youre staring shamelessly, and she pretends she doesnt notice but she loveees it, shell lay back and stretch out her legs and count you gawking at the sight of her exposed stomach 😵‍💫

sometimes when shes tired she’ll just lay flat on her back on the bed, arms and legs spread out and let you crawl all over her, feel her up, do whatever the fuck you want, shes happy to just lay there and take it all, so you usually spoil her and kiss and touch her all over before getting to anything more intense, straddling her, playing with her hair, teasing her, kissing her neck, massaging her, biting her, you know she loves being trapped and helpless while shes exhausted and eager to be showered in affection <3

the first time you were with her when she said "good girl" to her horse you grinned and asked "who, me or her?", so she shot you a smug look and said "what are you doing right now thats praise worthy, hm?" but she definitely took note of it and brought it up later on in bed, which did make her say it less to her horse from that point on (oops..)

one time during your first weeks of dating you couldnt ride your designated horse because you were too sore from the night before and the friction hurt too badly.. she felt a little guilty so she kissed it better after she couldnt help but laugh when you climbed off and said "yeah not today, no fucking way" while pointing between your legs

loves having her hair pulled, sometimes she puts her hair up in a ponytail during sex just so you can easily tug on it to bend her neck and kiss her skin there <3

if you 69 she is always the one whose face is getting smothered, always, she wouldn’t like it if it was the other way around, but every once in a while when youre both in heat and desperate to fuck the other person, she’ll eat you out while you’re trying to hold your hips up over her mouth while you’re jerking her off/struggling to taste her bc of your moaning </3, you both love orgasming at the same time, being together in that state of helplessness, it’s something you crave

if you lost your virginity to her, I think shed offer for you to do something to her that nobody has ever done before to make it kind of even that way, its mostly her way of adding to the sentiment of "I want us to be equals" because she never wants you to feel like shes eager to overpower you or see you as a girl she gets to "corrupt", maybe you laid in bed once and she told you this and she took a moment too long to try and think of something that no lover has ever done to her so you jokingly said "whore." - but youre creative, so you definitely found things that you would be her "first" for

if youre feeling freaky hear me out.. maybe youre the first to ever put your whole hand inside of her. would take a good amount of patience and lubrication but I can see her getting off on it sooo intensely once you manage to slip all of your fingers inside of her... you staring in awe and telling her how hot it feels, and slowly, very slowly, moving your hand a bit.. I think being so full of her lover would ruin her so hard. and she’d be turned on from knowing that none of her longtime girlfriends ever got to do it to her. anway.

her sexual preferences always depends on yours in the sense that she wants to know what you need and then give it to you, if you just want your brains fucked out she’ll gladly give in, if you want to pleasure her without being touched in return shes down as well, if you want both shes never gonna deny you, which means! that when she does allow herself to take charge every now and then by manhandling you and telling you "come here" or "lay back" it ruins you because youre not used to it, she looves the look you get when she decides to be a bit rough for once

to put it plainly: your pleasure is her pleasure, always!

thats all for now! feel free to let your own imagination fill in the rest 💌

[magicalrocketships]

Rivers of Light || Max/Daniel || part 10 ||

(reminder that this in its entirety contains mpreg, reference to giving birth, Max Verstappen's bad dad, past abuse, and on-track accidents.) Cyril's hot wife remains made up (I mean, she may be hot in real life but I don't even know for certain if she exists, therefore this version of his hot wife remains made up).

All previous parts can be found in the masterpost here. This chapter is on AO3 here.

Max hasn't had many people be kind to him since he crashed out of Formula 1. He'd forgotten how it had felt.

Part 10

Bastiaan falls asleep in Cyril's arms after dinner. One minute he's frowning up at him, and the next, his little eyes are closing and he's falling asleep right where he's tucked up against Cyril's chest.

Max contains his jealousy well. Bastiaan's never fallen asleep anywhere other than with him. This whole trip has been full of new experiences for his baby, and he must be very tired. Max would like to fall asleep too, but he hasn't slept through the night in a long time. He's used to it by now, but even being used to it doesn't mean he doesn't wish it was different sometimes. 

That he could, just for once, put the weight down. 

He and Daniel don't stay long after Bastiaan falls asleep. It's late anyway, but his baby stays mostly asleep through having his little hat and sleeping bag put on him, and his mittens tucked down over his hands. He stirs as he's put down in the carrycot, but he's asleep again after Max has shushed him, moved the pram back and forth to rock him a little as Daniel says goodnight to Cyril and Sephine before they turn their attention to Max. He gets kissed on the cheek by both of them. Cyril says he will call when Max is back home, and Sephine says they'll have to have Max and Bastiaan to stay when Max is next in Paris. It's nice. It's kind. It's a lot. Max hasn't had many people be kind to him since he crashed out of Formula 1. He'd forgotten how it had felt. 

It almost makes him want to cry. 

He doesn't. 

He's not sure he can anymore. 

&&&

Bastiaan wakes up an hour after they get back to the hotel, which is about half an hour after Max has passed out in the big bed with the carrycot next to him. When he'd gone to sleep, Daniel was still awake, scrolling through his phone with the lamp on by the little bed under the window. He had refused to let Max sleep there. But when Bastiaan starts to cry, the lamps are off, and Max tries to keep it that way in case Daniel can somehow sleep through his tiny, tearful baby making his feelings known. 

He's not a happy baby. Max cycles through the things he knows to do: nappy change, trying for a feed, nappy check again, a little playtime with his giraffe and his rattle, but Bastiaan doesn't want or need any of it. He's miserable and fierce about it, red cheeked and angry, little cries that tear Max's chest in half. He sadly accepts a feed after about half an hour, and that keeps him quiet for a while, but the moment Max tries to put him back down in his carrycot he's crying again, the saddest baby that anyone has ever seen. Max wants to cry too. He's so, so tired. He hates Bastiaan being so unhappy and not being able to tell Max what he needs. He hopes babies don't get nightmares. Bad dreams are awful enough when you're old enough to understand them. Max kisses his little flushed cheeks. 

"I'm sorry, little baby," Max says, over Bastiaan's exhausted sobs. "I know we're not at home. You've met all these new people today and I think everything smells funny and you don't know where you are. You've been very brave and now you don't want to be anymore, do you? You just want to be asleep but you don't know that you have to stop crying to get that, because you're only little. Such a little baby, my baby Bastiaan." He kisses his hair. Cradles him close. "We're not alone like normal, my baby, and it's not just me you're keeping awake. You made a new friend today, didn't you? And I think he'd like to go back to sleep now. Can we let him? Can we just go to sleep, baby?"

"It's okay," Daniel says finally. "You can put the lamp on. I'm awake."

"I'm sorry," Max says. He sounds desperate because he is. He's so tired. "I don't know why he's so upset. I can't make him stop."

"He's a baby, I think," Daniel says. He switches the lamp on. Sits up and swings his legs out of bed. He's in a t-shirt and his boxers. He'd still been dressed when Max had fallen asleep.

Max is topless because he'd fed Bastiaan, and part of him wants to cover up. He wants to shut that voice down inside of his head that's his dad, that's telling him to be ashamed of feeding his baby, but he's too tired to fight it. He cradles Bastiaan to his chest instead. Kisses his head. 

Daniel looks at him. "Max," he says. "Come on. Take a break. Why don't you give him to me for a few minutes. Go and wash your face or have a shower or something. You look wrecked."

"He's crying," Max says, trying to shush his distraught, exhausted baby, but Max is so, so tired. "I can't leave him."

"You can," Daniel says. "I'm assuming you don't have help in the middle of the night normally. Just let me help this time. Take a break. Go on. Have a shower or something."

"I don't want a shower," Max says. He wants his baby to go to sleep. 

"Honestly," Daniel says. "Give him here. Just for a few minutes."

Max finds himself holding out his baby for Daniel to take. He doesn't want to trust anyone with Bastiaan, but he needs to pee and it would be nice to do that just once without holding a baby in the middle of the night. A shower would be nice too, but it's not shower time. He lets out a ragged, desperate breath.

"Take a shower," Daniel says, as he rocks a crying Bastiaan, cradling him close. "Go on. I'll call if I need you."

"I'll be two minutes," Max says, staring longingly at the bathroom. Back at his tearful baby.

"Take five," Daniel says. "Push the boat out."

Max takes four. He comes out with his underwear pulled back on with a fresh pad inside, and a towel around his waist. His hair's wet and Daniel had been right, it had been good to stand under the hot spray for a minute. Breathe. Bastiaan's still crying but it's not as urgent as it had been before. He sounds so, so tired. Such a tired little baby. 

Daniel's got his phone in one hand and Bastiaan in his other. He's playing a soft little video of baby lullabies and water sounds with a slow animation of little twinkling stars accompanying it. He looks over at Max and winks. Bastiaan's eyes are starting to droop, but he's still crying. He's trying to chew on his fist. 

"Does that mean he's hungry?" Daniel asks. 

Max nods. He holds his hands out, but Daniel shakes his head.

"It's okay. Get into bed and then I'll hand him to you. Do you need anything?"

Max has his water bottle by the bed. He's okay. He drops the towel on the floor and gets into bed. He beckons Daniel over with his baby. 

Daniel tucks Bastiaan carefully into Max's arms, then makes a big show of getting the pillows from the other side of the bed and putting them behind Max to prop him up. It is more comfortable, but it's okay. Max was coping. Bastiaan doesn't need much help latching on, and for a moment there's quiet except for the soft sound of Daniel's lullaby video and Bastiaan's sleepy little sucks. 

"I'll leave it on," Daniel says quietly. "I think it helped."

Max nods. He's so, so tired. 

Daniel takes Max's water bottle and goes to refill it in the bathroom. He brings it back, then goes back into the bathroom to pee. When he comes back out, he sits on the end of Max's bed, by Max's feet. 

"You okay?" Daniel asks. 

Max doesn't shake his head. He hasn't been okay for a very long time, but he's holding on. He's holding on so tight it's making his fingers bleed. 

"I'm fine," Max says. He doesn't look away, not until Daniel does. 

"Think he'll fall asleep?" 

Bastiaan's eyes are already drooping. Max strokes his cheek. His lovely little baby. 

"Yeah," he says. "At some point."

"You're doing great, you know. He's perfect."

Max has been lying for such a long time. One more won't hurt. 

"Everything is good," he says. "Go back to bed."

"In a minute," Daniel says. "When he's sleeping."

They sit there, quiet in the middle of the night, until Bastiaan falls asleep. 

Max looks away first. 

[lunaatthezoo]

Does it hurt? | Elriel Month 2025

She was everything he ever needed. Everything he never thought he deserved. Everything he never knew how to ask for. And somehow, she loved him back.

@elriel-month 2025 prompt: True Will & Free Love

🦇🌸Art by raesploveart

🦇🌸Commissioned by @theseersgarden, @saraannereads, aoitavacorte, and @lunaatthezoo

🦇🌸One-shot by: me, @lunaatthezoo

See it on Instagram here

See it on X here

✨Please do not repost. Shares, likes, and comments appreciated✨

Below is a one-shot written in collaboration with this art piece. If you prefer to read it on Ao3, the link is here.

-----

Azriel was bleeding. Blood spurted from his back, his wings, and arms, as he tried to limp away from the Death Lord at his heels, raising a hand. Truth-Teller was gone, nothing but ash on the wind. And Azriel’s siphons were completely empty, flickering like candles struggling to stay lit in the wind. Death was coming for him, and in mere moments. Yet still he moved, dragging his feet with two injured legs, blood splattering the path that he walked. He made it two steps before Death pointed his hand at Azriel, golden flames erupting from his fingers.

Elain shot up in bed, clutching her chest. 

A dream, she told herself. It was only a dream. Not a vision. She squeezed her eyes shut, the hair on her forehead sticking to her sweaty skin. Not a vision. Not a vision. Not a vision. No, visions occurred when she was awake, not asleep. This had to be a dream. Still, her heart raced. She opened her eyes again, her gaze darting around her dark, empty room. She strained her ears to listen for any sounds in the Townhouse.

She knew Azriel was away on a mission, and that he wasn’t supposed to return until the next day. They had plans to meet along the Sidra tomorrow night, after the rest of Velaris would be asleep. They had been meeting in such ways for months now, since Azriel had fallen to his knees and confessed everything that had transpired last Solstice, what Rhysand had demanded of him, and how he felt about Elain. So they had started to secretly meet, exploring the new, delicate relationship blooming between them.

Elain believed the Townhouse was empty, currently. They usually did not dare meet here because of the very real possibility of any member of the family simply showing up unannounced. She sat up in bed, straining her ears. She heard nothing. Elain sighed, rubbing her face, trying to rid herself of the awful nightmare. Azriel invaded her sleep more and more these days, but usually through dreams. She saw them in the future, smiling and happy. She saw them with their family, unashamed and unafraid to show their love. She saw them in the skies, flying through sun and rain and snow. She saw them making love in beds of flowers and on mossy forest floors. 

But this was the first time he had invaded her nightmares, and she did not like it one bit. She sighed and rose from bed, wondering if a cup of tea might calm her nerves. She wrapped a light blue dressing robe over her thin nightgown and padded silently down to the kitchen.

-----

Azriel landed lightly on the veranda of the House of Wind, blood trickling from an open wound on his back. He had been on a mission in the Autumn Court, attempting to spy on Beron to glean any information about plans he may or may not have with Koschei. Azriel was highly suspicious that his loyalties had turned that direction. 

His plans had gone awry, however, when the Vanserra’s hounds unexpectedly alerted his guards of his presence. He made a quick escape, but not before one faebane-tipped arrow grazed his back. It was a shallow wound, and one that would eventually heal when the poison left his system. He had been lucky–his siphon shield had held most of the arrows at bay, his shadows whispering to him about where the winnowing wards ended on the Vanserra property. 

He had winnowed back to the Night Court as soon as he crossed the border of the wards, and then flew up to the House of Wind, where he hoped he could get some rest and heal. There wasn’t enough faebane beneath his skin to do any lasting damage, but he was exhausted by the way it began draining him regardless. He stood on the veranda at the House, whispering to his shadows to check their surroundings. He halted them as they began to bleed through the windows, however, because his ears did the job for him. Yes–there was the all-too-familiar thumping and moaning of his brother and Nesta. 

Azriel sighed, running a tired hand down his face. He did have the noise-blocking gift Elain had given him at Solstice, but those two could be fucking in any part of the house. He did not want to run into them in the sitting room or dining room, and he certainly did not want to make his shadows go searching for them. They didn’t deserve that. So Azriel used his last bit of energy to fly down to the Townhouse, where he hoped it would be empty save for one gentle gardener….

He landed lightly on the back patio. He and Elain rarely met here, as the possibility of being caught was too great, but his heart thumped in anticipation at the thought of seeing her tonight. He needed her warmth, her light, her gentle touch. She had quickly become the only thing that could soothe him, the only thing that could make him feel less lonely, less broken.

This time, he did send his shadows out to scout. He didn’t want to scare her, and he wanted to check if anyone else was in the house. They crept in under the door and returned after just a few moments, swirling around his head and whispering to him. Elain was the only person in the house, and she was already awake. He smiled, but his smile quickly turned to a frown when his shadows conveyed that she was agitated, worried. He quietly pulled open the back door and made his way to the kitchen to find her.

Azriel paused at the threshold of the kitchen. Elain was seated at the island table, watching steam billow up from a mug of tea before her. He could barely see her face because of the angle–he was mostly looking at the back and side of her head. Her hair was unbound, falling in long curls around her shoulders and down her back, and she was wrapped in a light blue dressing robe. She was so unendingly, ethereally beautiful. Despite feeling worried about her, the corner of Azriel’s lips tipped up as he closed his eyes, silently inhaling her honey and jasmine scent. 

She was everything he ever needed. Everything he never thought he deserved. Everything he never knew how to ask for. And somehow, she loved him back.

Elain turned suddenly, no doubt having scented him behind her as well, her deep brown eyes indeed full of worry. 

“Azriel!” she called in a whisper, shooting up from her seat. Her face looked drawn, her eyes tired. 

He was before her in three long strides, his hands gently grazing her cheeks. “I got back early,” he murmured, as she pulled her face out of his hands to nuzzle her head into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. “Why do you look so worried?”

She shook her head against him and he again closed his eyes to breathe in her lullaby of a scent, relishing how she felt in his arms-where she always felt best. “I had a nightmare and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

Azriel’s heart sank. He hated that she was plagued by nightmares, as if the horrible visions weren’t enough. 

“What happened?” he asked, stroking her hair as he held her. 

“You were dying,” she whispered. “Moments away from death and no one– no one could help you, Azriel.” 

He squeezed her tighter against him. 

“I’m fine, angel. I’m right here. I suffered nothing more than a graze from an arrow.”

Elain gasped, pulling away from him. “You were hurt!” she cried, her chocolate eyes growing wide. 

Azriel tried to calm her, raising a hand in dismissal. “It will heal on its own, I’m just tired. A little bit of faebane is all.”

She gasped again, her eyes scanning him wildly. “Where? What happened?” she asked, pulling away from him and circling him to see him from every angle. Azriel couldn’t help but smile at the way she was fussing over him. 

“Elain,” he tried again. “I meant it, I’m–”

But he was cut off as she discovered the hole in the leathers on his back, letting out a little squawk. 

“Take your shirt off right now,” she demanded, circling in front of him and crossing her arms. 

Azriel’s lips twitched. “I like when you command me to remove my clothes,” he murmured, reaching up and drifting a scarred thumb over her lip. 

Elain’s eyes narrowed. “I’m serious," she answered, her arms still crossed. 

Azriel couldn’t help but take advantage of the moment. He turned his back to her. “I’ve shown you where the slats are, haven't I?” he asked, knowing full well he had. “I could use some assistance. My shadows are at their wit’s end tonight.”

Elain huffed a little bit, but then got to work on releasing the slats of his shirt around his wings. It was not the first time she had done so, and Azriel tried not to let certain parts of him stir as he remembered the last time, when her hands had ended up on his wings and then Elain had ended up riding him until they both came. He cleared his throat, trying to clear his head as well. 

When the leather garment was finally peeled off his torso and tossed to the floor, Elain walked to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair for him.

“Sit,” she demanded, indicating the chair. Azriel sighed. 

“You really do not have to do anything, love. It will heal. I just need some rest.”

Her face still looked worried, drawn. “I want to. Please, let me. Let me take care of you.”

Azriel swallowed. No one had ever wanted to take care of him before. Not since his mother, when he was a little boy and permitted to see her for one hour each week. Elain’s eyes were pleading, her hands wringing in anxiety.

“Alright,” he answered gently, and strode to the chair, turning it around to straddle it so that she had access to his back. He didn’t miss Elain’s gaze roam over his muscled arms and back or the way her throat bobbed before she zeroed in on his wound again. His lips twitched once more.

“I think I have some healing salve around here somewhere. I use it frequently for gardening,” she muttered, flitting around the kitchen and throwing cabinets open. He had never seen her so flustered before. She was normally as still and graceful as himself. He relished her regardless, listening carefully to her breathing, drinking in her scent, feeling her presence heal him where it mattered–on the inside. 

-----

Elain was only somewhat comforted by Azriel’s presence. She hated to see him hurt, and hated that his position in the Court required him to be in danger so often. She knew in her heart that he would give his life to protect the Night Court, and that terrified her. She struggled to keep her swirling thoughts in check as she threw open kitchen cabinets in search of her healing salve. Azriel remained quietly watching from his seat at the table, no doubt thinking her a bumbling fool. 

Finally, she found the small jar amongst some rabble in a lower cabinet, and briefly wondered why she ever left such a valuable material there. She shook her head, running a clean cloth under the faucet, before approaching Azriel again. 

The wound was bleeding far less than it should have been, much like when he had rescued her from Hybern’s war camp. Still, it looked angry and green-tinged. The faebane was making Azriel exhausted–that was easy to see. She grimaced as he looked back at her.

“I’m going to clean it. It might hurt a bit,” she said gently, stepping close to his back. 

Shadows suddenly crept from Azriel, swirling around them and gently plucking the container of salve from Elain’s hands. The shadows were cool and soft against her skin before they floated in front of her, holding the jar for her. They almost reminded her of a puppy eager to please, and she grinned despite her worry. 

“I trust you,” Azriel finally answered softly, his eyes impossibly warm and beautiful in that moment, his long, dark lashes sweeping downwards. She couldn’t stop her smile, because she knew it was true. He did trust her, and she knew Azriel trusted so few in this life. It meant everything to her.

“Alright, I’m starting,” she murmured, gingerly bringing the wet cloth to his back. Azriel’s wings twitched ever so slightly at her touch on the wound, but he had no other outward reaction. Elain supposed that he was probably good at hiding his pain, another thought that saddened and scared her. 

“Why did you come back here if you didn’t want my help with this?” she asked, gently blotting at the wound until the blood around it began to dissipate. 

Azriel huffed before her. “I actually went to the House of Wind first. I just wanted to sleep. But Cassian and Nesta were…otherwise engaged.” 

A laugh of her own bubbled up from her. “I can’t believe you choose to live there,” she murmured, dabbing away the last of the blood. 

He turned his head once more to look at her. “If I stayed here, Elain, I would not be able to resist touching you every night. Holding you. Worshiping you.” 

Elain felt her cheeks go up in flames as she swallowed. “Would that be so wrong?” she nearly whispered, placing the bloodied cloth onto the table beside him. He reached out to catch her wrist as she did so, gently pulling her hand to his mouth. 

“No,” he murmured, kissing across her knuckles and then turning her hand over, unfurling her fingers to kiss her palm as well. He met her eyes again as he released her, a renewed warmth spreading through her chest. “Nothing about you, or us, is wrong. But we would get caught eventually, Elain. And I am not willing to risk what we have at this moment.” 

Elain felt her eyes soften as he spoke. “Nor am I,” she agreed, wishing it was not so even while knowing why it was. 

She offered him a soft smile of understanding. “May I put the salve on now?” His shadows began unscrewing the lid as soon as she asked.

He nodded, turning back towards the table and straightening his back.

“Does it hurt?” she asked him, the familiar earthy, herby scent of the salve drifting up to her nose. Madja had taught her how to make this salve herself, because Elain kept finding her with deep cuts from thorns and garden tools. “I don’t know if it will have an effect on the faebane, but it should help with any pain,” she said, scooping some of the salve out with a slender, thorn-scarred finger. 

“It only hurts a bit now. Being in your presence is enough to soothe any pain, but I appreciate it anyway,” he murmured, his face angled downwards.

Butterflies fluttered in Elain’s stomach. Azriel was so quiet around the others, but his words held so much. He always knew exactly what to say to her, how to reassure her, how to make sure she knew how much he loved her.

Elain gently swiped some of the salve over the shallow cut in Azriel’s back. He let out a gentle humming noise at her touch, and the butterflies flapped more fervently. 

“Does that feel good?” she asked softly, smoothing the salve until the wound was completely covered.

“It does,” he answered, before another rumble rose through his chest. 

“I’ll be right back,” Elain said, and strode to the bathing room, where she found a bandage. She returned to find Azriel in the same position, his head bowed and his eyes closed. She wondered for a moment if he had fallen asleep, absurd as that may be, but his eyes drifted open once more as her scent reached him. 

One side of his mouth turned up. “I don’t think I need a bandage, angel,” he murmured, clearly thinking she was fussing too much. 

She sighed, narrowing her eyes at him. “It’s the only way to keep the salve in place on your skin,” she answered. “Just use one for tonight?”

He eyed the long piece of fabric in her hands. “Alright,” he answered gently. She found it was quite easy to convince Azriel to acquiesce to her wishes, when she looked at him in just the right way.

Elain walked towards him, helplessly eager to touch him once more. 

“Lift your arms?” she asked. He did so, and she swallowed at the way his muscles rippled in the low faelights in the kitchen. 

Elain gently pressed the fabric against the wound, using her other hand to wind it around his large, strong torso. A body that she had felt more times than she ever thought she would. A body that was equally able to hold her tenderly as it was able to choke the life out of enemies. A body that was able to give her so much pleasure, she wondered how she had ever thought she had known pleasure before him. Her cheeks heated as she carefully tucked the end of the fabric underneath the binding to keep it in place. 

“All done,” she said, and before she knew what was happening, Azriel was turning, reaching for her. She let out a little squeak as he pulled her into his lap, wrapping his massive arms around her.

“Sleep in my arms tonight?” he asked, pressing tender lips to her temple. 

Elain’s breath caught. “You’re not worried?” she asked, even as she already knew she would say yes. She could never say no to him. She yearned for nothing more than to sleep in his arms each night.

“Not tonight, my love. I want you right here, all night. My shadows can keep watch for us.” 

“They don’t need to sleep?” she asked, even as he ran his broad hands over her thighs, eliciting a shiver. 

Azriel chuckled. She whipped her head to him.

“You said they were tired earlier!” 

He kissed her lightly on the lips. “I love that you worry about my shadows. They don’t get tired in the sense that you and I do. They’ll recoup overnight, even if they’re keeping watch.”

Elain’s stomach dipped as Azriel bent his head to press tender kisses across her throat. 

“So will you?” he asked, his hands drifting up to grip her hips lightly. “Sleep in my arms tonight?”

“I will,” she whispered, her hands sliding up his neck to tangle in his hair.

She felt him smile against her neck, and then he was standing, arms beneath her, lifting her against his chest. 

“Then let’s go to bed,” he murmured, shadows gathering around them. 

And as they drifted into the shadows that would carry them to Elain’s bedroom, she wondered if she would ever be able to sleep outside of Azriel’s strong, warm arms again.

[ariiijestertheklown]

Substance

ELIJAH "SMOKE" MOORE X READER (OC/TINASHE/)

Modern-AU

Warnings: Cursing, verbal fights, crying, hitting(from reader), Gangster shii, a smidge of sexual content, and if i missed anything let me know

AN: my first fanfic so bare with me ....

Summary: Tinashe was tired of waiting tired of having hope tired of missing him so she tries to forget all about him but the goddess of love had other plans and guess who pops up at the clubs she at....

10:43 pm on a Friday night, Tinashe was scrolling reminiscing going through past messages and photos till she told herself "Get the hell up off that couch and lets have some fun" she put her outfit did her hair make up everything and out the door. She arrives at the club meeting her friend Jenea once they enter tinashe hits the bar asking for 4 shots of Hennessy. And Jenea just shrugs and says "add 4 more to that" four shots later and somehow there both tipsy 20 minutes later more shots and 2 drinks there in the middle of the dance floor swaying their hips and jamming to the music it didnt take long for some guy to come up behind jenea and dance with her but tinashe? she didnt care she was free she was living the life... until strong muscled arms wrapped around her waist she wasnt phased until she heard it. Heard him AND Smelled him.

The smell of him like rich cologne and cedarwood "hey beautiful" she froze breath hitched stopped dancing and all of sudden the six plus shots she took wore straight out her system.

| "so its like that no hi? nothing?" voice deep and raspy

| "No hi? Boy please... get the fuck from off me"

You had moved out his grasp and straight to the bar still tipsy going for 3 more shots to hope this is just a dream or the Hennessy kicking in but no. Once You down the last shot he makes his way toward you and oh lord the sight of him. Black Jeans Black tee tight as a mf gold chain dangling, gold rolex watch and oooo that face still the same how you remember it but when your eyes travel lower you notice hes more muscular and more fit , buff and the Hennessy made you just wanna take bit of him but you fought that feeling hard. He cornered you your back against the bar and him in front close very close.

| "Come on T, I know you missed me"

|"missed yeah few days ago now not anymore" She lied and he knew she lied

Tinashes eyes were low lashes almost covering her eyes as she looked up at him. He looked down at her leaning down lips brushing her cheek then to her ear he said " Go ahead and lie one more time might have to fix that" he smirked then leaned back seeing her face which was in total shock.

" Aint no one lyin you left for 4 weeks and then all of a sudden pop back up smoke please fuck out my face 'for i give you something to be in my face bout" She rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth pushing him back out her way now drunk as ever as she went to find jenea who was in the corner of the club making out with the same damn man who she was dancing with. She just let them be they didnt come in the same car anyway. As she was about to leave she felt a pair of hands on her hips stopping her. "Smoke if you dont take your hands of me ima remove them myself forcefully." She was then pulled into a hallway Red and blue lights littered the hallway dim but still able to see he had her pinned against wall, Tinashe being drunk did not know wether to kiss him , slap him, or cuss him the hell out so she chose two out of the three. He leaned down and she instantly had her lips on his the kiss was rough but slow and felt like the world had stopped. but then when she pulled away....

"Your an ass Smoke... you Just leave out the blue for 4 weeks no text no call nothing then somehow know where i am show up and then start acting like you can get me back real easy by luring me into this kiss.."

her eyes started to water and he noticed making something in him shift he gently grabbed her chin making her look at him.

"I know.. I know im wrong i didnt wanna get you mixed up in all my gangster shit and then put you in danger i knew i called i would have never been stay away but im here now" He looked like he meant it like he really did want to make things work between the two of you "as for the acting like you can get me back real easy by luring me into this kiss part" he mocked you smirking "if i have to earn you back thats what ima do cause your mine and always have been."

You had looked up at him feeling rushing back to you lots of them Anger, Love, hurt, kindness tons of feelings but right now you wanted him and i mean WANTED him in BED.

(Yall can let me know if you want a part 2 or not might just leave this as it is T_T)

[meet-me-backstage]

༺ 🐑 ༻

𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐭, 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐨

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ☼ Rancher!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ☼ You, a headstrong—bubbly ranch-hand, form a close bond with the reserved ranch-owner, Joel Miller, through two seasons of hard work, warmth, and unspoken longing. You leave to chase your dream, but circumstance brings Joel back into your life. A storm rolls over your land, something between you stirs—unresolved and waiting to burst.

𝑭𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ☼ a no outbreak au loosely inspired by Far From The Madding Crowd but it’s set in modern day/Texas, rancher!Joel (🥵), protective!Joel, grumpy x sunshine, bad language, light angst, mention of vomit & there’s blood after an incident with a hammer, age gap (reader is in her 20s & Joel is in his 50s), kinda slowburny, unresolved feelings (until they aren’t hehe), yearrrrrning and SMUUUUT so you must be 18+ to read this story‼️

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨 ☼ 7.2K

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨 ☼ bad language, smutty thoughtssss on paper (🤭), light angst, alleged ghosting (letter edition), unresolved feelings, allusion to a pet’s death, yearning n jealousy.

A/N: There will be more parts! I realized very quickly after posting the first part that there would be more than two like I originally planned. Thank you for your patience!

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲! 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 ‘𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐭, 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 & 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐨’ 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭! <𝟑

⇜ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞



‘Joel,

You’ll never believe it — I made it. The ranch is mine. Mine for real. My name’s on the papers and the land — the mailbox out front too. I know you probably figured I would, after how much I ran my mouth about it, but I still wanted to tell you. You were the first person I wanted to tell.

It’s not much — two of the greenest pastures I’ve ever seen, a beat-up old house with shutters and a wraparound porch just like yours… and a barn that leans a little too much when the wind kicks up. It’s a fixer upper but it’s all I ever dreamed of, Joel.

Juno’s already taken to the place like she was born here. She chases butterflies and herds the chickens (she thinks they’ll respond the same as sheep. Spoiler: they don’t). Makes me laugh every day. She’s exactly like her pa — too clever for her own good, and loyal as anything. Looks exactly like George when he was a pup with the one floppy ear. I think she misses you both.

Think I do too.

I hope you and George are well (and lake Isabella! Oh and Clint — the sheep too! How could I forget them!)

Anyway, the chicken coop needs fixing so I’d better stop writing and start working.

— Sunshine’

༺ 🐑 ༻

‘Sunshine (guess that name’s sticking),

Got your letter. I know you said you would write. Still — I didn’t expect it.

Thought you might have already forgotten about me.

Glad to know you made it safe, and that the land’s everything you were hoping for. Sounds like you’re keeping real busy—which don’t surprise me none.

Had to laugh a little at the image of Juno herding the chickens. I can just picture it. Bet she’s still got that same stubborn streak as you too — don’t give up easy.

Things here are alright. Same as usual. Lake Isabella’s been running lower than I’d like — think she’s missing you. But I manage. Sheep are still ornery as hell, and old George sleeps more than he works these days. Can’t say I blame him.

I won’t lie—it’s quieter around here. Bit too quiet, some days. Not used to missing the sound of someone yapping at me while I work, but here I am fixing my damn radio just to find one of them tunes you would sing to Dixie. I’ve been trying to get my pa’s old radio working — was just about to give it a go but your letter came and now I know no fucking Sabrina Carpenter or John Denver song is gonna make me miss you less finally.

Hope your land keeps thriving. You deserve that. You deserve your dream, darling — keep chasing it.

— Joel’

༺ 🐑 ༻

‘Joel,

Built the first proper fence today, all on my own. Got blisters all over my palms, and I cursed loud enough to wake the whole county. But I did it. Dixie nearly chewed through the rope post again, Juno dug up one of my tomato plants, and the hens laid eggs in the hayloft instead of the coop... I'm figuring it out.

Speaking of the coop — I fixed it. Took me the better part of a week and two splinters I'm still digging out of my fingers, but the hens are roosting proper now. There's one that reminds me of you—serious little thing, always standing off to the side like she's making sure everyone else is behaving. I named her Judith, but I'm tempted to rename her Joel.

The evenings are the hardest part. Everything goes still out here when the sun dips behind the ridge and work is done for the day. It's quiet in the way that makes you think too much. I sit on the porch with Juno at my feet (she's getting so big already), and I keep expecting to hear your boots on the porch boards.

I wonder what you’re up to all the time.

Sometimes I wonder what you're up to—whether you're still waking up before dawn, still arguing with George over who gets to herd the sheep. I hope things are good. I hope your fences are holding up better than mine.

Did you get that radio working?

I got one for my porch.

Do you turn yours on just to fill in the silence too? What about when you miss hearing my voice? If you do miss my voice. It’s what I do when I miss hearing yours.

They’re fiddly things aren’t they?

Juno sends her love (in slobber, mostly).

— your Sunshine’

༺ 🐑 ༻

‘Sunshine,

Read your letter four two times, then once more just to make sure I didn’t miss anything.

I let out a real belly laugh when I read about that hen of yours. Haven’t laughed like that in a long while. Not since you were here, trying to chase that lamb into the barn. You ended up flat on your ass in the mud and pretended it was “international land awareness”. George side-eyed me like I’d lost my damn mind. Think maybe I have.

He misses you. Whines more than usual, always wants to take the long trail past the lake like he's expecting you to be there, splashing about or sitting on that rock and tossing pebbles. He barks for you outside your cabin every morning, thinking you're needing a wake up call. Every time the mail comes, he runs out to the box — he knows it's from you — no one bothers to write me as often as you do. Don't know if that means something — if I mean something to you. I'm in my damn head too much. Clearly. He brings the envelopes to me like they’re some kind of treasure. I keep them like they are. They've gotta be some of the most precious things I own.

Radio’s working again. Took some fiddling alright, but I got it. Picks up this one station late at night — plays old country, mostly. There’s a hum it makes, right before the music kicks in. Caught me off guard the first time. Thought maybe you were there, talking soft about nothing and everything like you used to. Funny what your mind does when the silence is just… empty. Used to like it. I don’t anymore. I hate it.

Juno sounds hellbent on undoing half your work, but I can’t say I’m surprised. She really has got your stubborn streak. You’re fighting tooth and nail out there, and I got no doubt you’ll make something special of that land. You always had a way of making things grow, even when they didn’t want to.

Stay safe. Don’t forget to eat. Do you miss those dinner’s with me out on the porch? I miss making them for you.

— Joel’

༺ 🐑 ༻

‘Joel,

Damn you for reminding me of that day. I still remember how smug you looked when you wrangled that lamb in like it was no big deal while I sat there soaked and sulking — still yelling like I had any pride left to salvage.

Tell George I miss him too. Just picturing him waiting by the mailbox like that… Joel, you’re gonna make me cry and I can’t afford to cry around the livestock. They’ll start expecting gourmet meals if they sense weakness. I hope you’ve been taking him down the trail still — even if I’m not there to cannonball in the lake with him.

There’s a river that runs right through the pastures — Juno loves it. She’d love lake Isabella more.

I finally got the irrigation system working with a little help from the guy at the feed store who I think was more interested in flirting than fixing, but hey, we got water. The sheep are healthy. Juno’s learning so fast — I think she’s as good at herding as George already. When she’s working the field, I catch myself thinking how proud George would be of her... and how proud you’d be if you saw me now.

I finished fixing the entire fence line myself today. Took me nearly all day — pounding in posts, pulling wire — maybe I did cuss at the sun a few times but neither of my pinkies were harmed, I promise.

Write back as soon as you get this when you can.

(Ps. Judith is nesting in my toolbox now)

— Sunshine’

༺ 🐑 ༻

‘Sunshine,

I told George. I think he got the gist. He wagged his tail, ran three laps around the barn, and then sat by the trailhead looking ready to bolt the second I unlatched the gate. Took him down there yesterday. Water’s cold as usual, but he went in anyway. I ain’t been in the mood to swim — afraid I’ll catch myself thinking too hard about the water glinting off your skin, the sunlight on your cheeks, that pretty laugh and those perfect tits of yours that day you got me in the water. Me and Clint watched George from the shore. Didn’t help. I fell asleep after a while with my hat over my face and dreamed about you just laying right next to me anyway. Maybe spreading those thighs and getting a taste of you out in the open… right by the lake. Fuck.

Can’t say the old dog misses you any less — can’t say this old cowboy does neither — as the season’s pass. When your letter came, he carried it inside himself. Dropped it right on the porch, then stared at me as if to say: ‘well, read it, dumbass’. I did. I kept re-reading it — twenty-four times don’t know how many times, enough to make me think I already replied. That’s why it’s taken me a while to write this. Sorry, darling.

If I was standing in that pasture with you, watching Juno run and you fixing fences like it was nothing, I’d tell you plain — I’m proud as hell.

Keep writing if you’ve got the time. I’ll be waiting George’ll be waiting either way.

(Ps. Who’s this feed store guy you mentioned? Is it Troy? Please say it ain’t Troy. That boy’s way too good looking for his own good and he knows it. Way to sound like a jealous asshole Is Judith still Queen of your toolbox?)

— Joel’

༺ 🐑 ༻

‘Joel,

Just when I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me the mailman delivered your letter. Think I gave the poor man a heart attack by the way I squealed when I saw your handwriting.

Is everything okay?

Are you okay?

If George keeps bringing my letters in like that, I might have to send him a treat basket full of bacon.

I think about that day at the lake too — all the time think it’s still my favorite memory with you of last summer. It’s also still the only way I can get off at night. Remembering how you looked, sunburned and dripping wet, hands running through your hair — wonder what they’d feel like touching all over me instead. What the fuck. He doesn’t need to know that. The pebbles under the water looked like old coins — I remember making a wish. I wish you’d kissed me. Woulda topped that day off with a cherry on top if you did it came true.

Things are coming along just fine… would you believe it if I told you the house is finally finished? Took every spare hour I had, but the porch is steady, the roof doesn’t leak, and I even got all the trim painted before the snow came in. Most days I walk through the rooms barefoot just to feel the floorboards under me, to remind myself I did all this from the ground up with my own two hands (well, kinda). I ran into some trouble with the water pressure in the kitchen sink — was gonna ask you if you could help but you’re so far away, too far away… and you’re always so busy Troy turned up in the nick of time.

He’s around a lot — the feed store guy who flirted more than he fixed? Turns out he’s not so bad with a wrench. He helped with the last stretch of plumbing, and now he keeps showing up with little things he swears the place “needs” — a bird feeder, a coat hook shaped like a horse head, a pie from his aunt. I’m starting to think he might have a crush on me.

Anyway — onto the last building job on my list; the barn. Wish me luck (I’m gonna need it).

(Ps. Judith’s got her own roost now. Top shelf of the tool shed. She’s got better real estate than I do.)

— Sunshine’

༺ 🐑 ༻

‘Sunshine,

Now — don't go threatening my dog with bacon baskets unless you're ready to follow through. He's already spoiled as sin.

Your letters are about the only thing I look forward to these days. Was that too much? Fuck it. I’m leaving it in. I don’t reckon I’ll ever forget the way your handwriting looks — I’ll never forget you neither no matter how long it’s been. I sat with your last letter for a while before opening it. Just… held it. You ever get that way? With my letters maybe? Like if you open it too fast it’ll slip right through your fingers? Like when you slipped through mine the day you left.

Been a rough couple months. The Ranch is hanging on by a thread this Spring. Drought’s hitting hard, grass won’t grow right, and the fence line’s falling faster than I can patch it. Feels like I’m trying to hold the place together with both hands and nothing to show for it but blisters and another night of not sleeping. Ain’t nothing I can’t handle.

George — he’s slowing down. Took him near fifteen minutes to get up the back steps yesterday. His eyes are bright, but he don’t play like he used to. He’s slacking at herding too — lost a couple sheep just the other day cause he couldn’t hear me calling and his sight ain’t as good as it was. But he perks up when I say your name — or “bacon” (if that ain’t selective hearing I don’t know what is). Still whines at the trailhead by the lake. Still waits on your letters like a lovesick pup too.

As for me — I’m falling apart fine keeping busy. Fixed the barn door last week and got the south field tilled as best I could — my back’s begging me for mercy. You don’t gotta worry about me though.

You do gotta worry about this Troy fella. I remember him. The one with the shiny truck and the big mouth. He still got that slicked back hair? He’s a fucking asshole Can’t say I like him all that much — can’t say I blame him for being sweet on you neither. Maybe he sees what I should’ve held onto tighter. I don’t like the sound of him hanging around. A man brings gifts like that, it ain’t cause the house needs a coat hook. He’s trying to put down roots in something you built from scratch. I know I ain’t got a say but that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about knocking on that feed store door and letting him know he oughta tread real careful. Just… don’t let someone sweet-talk you into settling for something smaller than you deserve. You built that house. You’re building that life. You don’t need someone coasting on your hard work like it’s his own. I mean it.

Keep going. That barn’s gonna stand tall, just like the rest of what you built. If you get stuck or need someone to scare off Troy… well. You know who to call (not fucking Troy. Anyone but fucking Troy). I might not have much left here, but I still got that hammer and two good hands.

(Ps. Can’t quite make out what your wish was. Next time don’t cross it out so I can make it come true… if it ain’t too late.)

(Pps. Plenty of things I wish I’d done to you that day.)

— Joel’

༺ 🐑 ༻

‘Joel,

I hope Georgie is feeling better after feasting on the bacon from the treat basket I sent. Did you get the Polaroid of me and Juno? Did you recognize her? I can’t believe she’s almost one already. Did you get the one of the house too? The land? The sheep? Dixie? Oh, and Judith in her toolshed condo? I tucked them all into the side so they wouldn’t fall out.

I didn’t write back right away. I pressed your letter flat against my chest and held it there a while — giggling like I was sixteen again. I figured I should cool off before saying something I couldn’t take back — but you and I both know I was never any good at keeping my mouth shut.

Your letter — what you wrote about Troy — I heard it loud and clear. I ain't letting him lay claim. Not now. Not ever. This place is mine. My blood's in the soil, my sweat's in every wall. And my heart... well. That’s with you That's another story.

You said you couldn’t make out what I’d written in that last letter. The part I crossed out. You always said I was braver than I gave myself credit for. So here goes I guess:

I wished you’d kissed me in the lake.

When I was wet-haired and laughing you looked at me like I was some answer you’d been waiting years to find (I wasn’t imagining it, was I?) and in that moment I needed you to do it more than I needed to buy my own land. I needed your hands on me so bad — maybe on my cheeks first, all soft and careful like the way you held my pinkie finger that same day… then maybe slipping down to my waist… maybe lower.

You should’ve kissed me, Joel.

I know we can’t go back in time. But that doesn’t stop me from replaying it like we can. Over and over. Trying to imagine what would’ve happened if you did. Maybe I wouldn’t be writing this from an empty bed.

Why did you splash me instead?

I’ve been so buried in this barn rebuild I barely know what day it is. I’m either on a ladder or carrying lumber and paint buckets these days so Troy offered to drop my letters in the post — I’m taking him up on that until I can catch my breath again. Don’t roll your eyes — it’s just postage, not a proposal.

(Ps. If you ever needed a reason to come by, the barn could sure use your hands… I could too. Just saying. You’re the only one I’d trust to help me finish it right.)

(Pps. Maybe then you could decide if it’s too late to make my wish come true.)

— your Sunshine’

༺ 🐑 ༻

‘Joel,

I keep telling myself that the ranch is keeping you up to your elbows in work — that you’re probably too tired to pick up a pen and write me by the end of the day. But I ain’t gonna lie and say it hasn’t crossed my mind that maybe it’s me… maybe it was what I wrote before. I should’ve kept that stupid little wish to myself instead of spilling it all over the stupid page like an idiot who doesn’t know when to zip it.

Maybe I crossed a line.

Maybe I scared you off.

Maybe it was too much.

Maybe I was too much.

I’m sorry if I was.

I didn’t mean to throw it at you like that. You did ask. All I did was answer. What did you want me to do? Lie? I didn’t want to lie. I couldn’t lie. You always knew when I was lying. You woulda seen straight through my writing too. I’m sure of it.

You don’t have to write nothing about it.

Forget I even wrote it.

I’d rather you forget it than stop writing altogether.

I could still do with an extra pair of hands with the barn… if you’re still offering.

— still your Sunshine’

༺ 🐑 ༻

‘Joel,

I’m not sure if you’re just real busy or if my last few letters have found their way into the bottom of a drawer somewhere — but I’ll keep writing anyway. Feels strange not to. You’ve always been the one I wanted to tell things to, even the boring stuff.

The barn’s coming along. Slowly. And stubbornly. Every beam I put up feels like an argument I’m winning. The roof’s half done, and I’ve managed not to fall off it (yet). Troy keeps showing up with his sleeves rolled and something smug on his face. There's been some talk around town lately — folks with big mouths and not much else to do, I guess it was bound to happen with the amount of time Troy spends here. I don’t know if word’s gotten all the way out to you, but he's just been helping with the barn, hanging around because I needed the hands and he's got the time… it's never been anything more than that. It's never even crossed my mind to want more than that — not when my heart's already with you at your ranch someplace else, and it's not anywhere Troy could ever reach.

It's not him I'm waiting for when the evenings get quiet and the sky turns that deep blue I know you love. He's not the one I’m awake for at ridiculous hours to write letters like this. I guess they don't really matter to you anymore (if they ever even did). Still — I needed you to read it from me, not to hear it twisted from anybody else.

— Sunshine’

༺ 🐑 ༻

‘Joel,

The mailbox is collecting nothing but dust — either way, I thought you oughta know: the barn’s built.

Finally.

There’s a couple boards that don’t sit flush, and if you look close you’ll see where I had to patch up some mistakes, but it’s standing proud and strong and somehow still here after the first big rain. Sometimes I catch myself talking to it like it’s alive, like it knows how much I gave just to see it finished. I think you’d understand that better than most.

Today I left the back door open and just sat in the middle of the floor, watching the sun pour in.

It’s funny. I thought once it was done, I’d feel… finished, too. Like maybe I could stop chasing this vision I’ve had for myself and just enjoy it. It’s all I’ve known for as long as I can remember — this dream of having land of my own. It was all I needed. But as I was sitting there, all I could think about was how wrong empty it felt without you.

Now it feels like I built this place hoping someone else might come find a home in it with me. (You.)

Would you come see it? Bring George with you?

Juno’d love it. I would too.

It’s just us, Dixie and the livestock.

Troy’s found someone new to charm, I suppose — and I’m glad for it (you’ll be glad to know too, or not… I don’t know anymore). He still takes my letters but he don’t linger no more. Feels better that way, cleaner somehow, like maybe the land itself shook off all the things that didn’t belong. Hasn’t stopped the rumors though. You probably heard the latest ones, that we’re shacked up and married with six kids, oh, and that there was a ring in the last pie Troy brought over from his aunt’s… surely you don’t believe any of it.

If you could see the way I sit out on the porch at night with Juno at my feet (she insists on taking that gingham blanket you wrapped her up in for me everywhere she goes even though she’s way too big for it now). She leaves a little space for George and I leave a space beside me for you in case the two of you might appear and watch the stars with us like we never left you both behind. Maybe then you’d know that no matter what gets spread outside our gates, our hearts are where I’m afraid they’ve always been — Juno’s with her old pa and mine with you.

You can forget I ever wrote this too… please don’t.

(Ps. The barn’s got a good corner stall. Big enough for a brute like Clint, or a man if he needed a place to lay low for a while.)

(Pps. I’m afraid Judith has moved into the spare lodging and she likes screaming real loud in the morning. She also likes pecking Troy’s boots so hard he trips and falls every time — and she’s been laying eggs like a machine… Might be the only girl on this land who’s got her shit together.)

— always your Sunshine’

༺ 🐑 ༻

‘Joel,

I've stopped waiting by the mailbox, mostly. Told myself I wouldn't keep count of the days since your last letter, but I have. It's been one hundred and eighty-two. I don't even know if you still live at the same place, if my words are just sitting in some pile you never open. If you’ve grown tired of me.

You said once you didn’t mind the sound of my voice — even when it wouldn't quit… you also said once that you cared about me but you can’t be bothered to answer any of my damn letters?

You’re so full of shit. Asshole.

It's been hard not hearing from you. I would only think about you when the work got quiet, or when I was sore at the end of a long day. But now it's all the time. Like missing you is something I do alongside breathing.

Why did you stop writing?

Was what I wrote really that bad?

Was it cause I told you I was gonna leave someday?

Was it cause you never let yourself need anything that could walk away from you?

Was it cause you don’t feel the same and didn’t have the guts to write it?

I spent so long believing you were just quiet. That maybe you couldn't find the words. That maybe the silence meant something tender. But now I'm thinking it was just silence. I’m a big girl, I can handle getting hit with rejection… but you know I can’t handle empty silence. You know how much I hate it.

All I’m asking for is a few lines from you. Just something so I know you’re still alive, that you haven’t forgotten me entirely.

(Ps. The ranch is growing. I bought another few acres to the south — orchard land. I think I'm gonna try peaches.)

— still your Sunshine’

༺ 🐑 ༻

‘Joel,

This’ll be the last letter, I think. Even a chatterbox like me can only keep talking to silence for so long before I start to feel like I’m going crazy.

My house — my barn — my land… it looks how I always dreamed it would. It’s the kind of place I used to draw in my notebooks when I was little, the kind of place I thought maybe only existed in stories. It’s everything I told you I needed. I just didn’t realize it at the time, that I needed you too. Not until now.

Juno’s keeping watch, sitting at the edge of the porch like she owns the place, ears perked and eyes sharp, even though she knows there’s nothing dangerous out here but her own loneliness. Mine too.

We can’t keep waiting on you to answer like this. She’s got sheep to herd. I’ve got land to maintain, livestock to look after, peaches and flowers to pick. I can’t even swim in the river anymore without thinking about how much I needed you to kiss me in lake Isabella. I think part of me's still floating there, waiting for you to pull me closer, a warm hand on my hip, sun in your eyes, asking if it's okay before you do it. You could’ve just done it and I would’ve let you… but you didn’t.

I’m sitting here with my pen hovering over this page, trying to find the right way to prove I’ve meant every word I’ve written you without making things worse than I already have.

I love

Fuck

Am I really gonna write this

Fuck it

You’re not gonna read it anyway

I love you, Joel Miller.

Always did.

Probably always will. But I need to stop reaching for something that doesn’t wanna hold me.

I hope you’re happy. I hope you’re safe and I hope that George is still wagging his tail for bacon strips, wherever you are.

Goodby

(Ps. If you ever do find yourself missing me… you know the way.)

— Sunshine’

༺ 🐑 ༻

The vastness of your ranch spread out before you in a way that still took your breath away. The land had tested you, challenged you, and at times, nearly broken you. But as the golden hour approached, you feel as though you're being cradled in its arms — being held steady after years of uncertainty.

The wind has teeth this evening.

Not the kind that rips or howls—but the low, gnawing kind that seeps through the seams of your coat and catches in the crooks of your bones. An early spring in Texas didn't always bring storm or rain, but it brought chill, and it hung over the land like a veil. The sun is pale in a sky the color of pewter, and the frost hadn't yet burned off the tall grass. Each blade shimmers like glass.

Juno, your constant — your loyal companion, moves through the grass beside you, her sleek black and white coat contrasting with the vibrant green earth. She's as part of the land as the other animals you'd been devoting your life to. The sheep, now grazing peacefully at the far end of the pasture, look content in their solitude.

Your work for the day had been done—crops tended to, your milk cow, Betty, given her evening grain, Dixie fed and brushed—both of them in their stalls for the night. You decide it's time to gather the sheep, to urge them into their own shelter beside the barn. You click your tongue, and Juno's ears perk up. She immediately turns her focus to the herd, running off to them with graceful precision like the prodigy she is.

“Easy, girl!” You call out, grinning. The sheep bunch together, docile under Juno's movements. You jog to keep up, the sweet scent of trampled grass and wildflowers filling your nostrils, and a laugh escapes you — loud and careless. “Good girl! That's it, Juno! Get 'em! Go 'round!” you holler, cupping your gloved hands around your mouth.

Juno barks once as she swoops around the herd. She veers left and then right, rounding up the sheep with an energy oozing pure mischief. The flock bawl and stumble in confusion, a few ewes trying to make a break for it — but Juno is faster. She flies behind them, crouched low, her body taut with excitement.

You watch her with pride swelling in your chest — she is full-grown now, all lean muscle and boundless spirit, though she still has the same spark she did as a pup. The sheep bleat in protest but Juno is persistent and you know exactly where she got that from — she's a chip off of old George's block. She races, expertly rounding them up into one bumpy mass.

“Okay now you're just showin' off, aren't you, Junebug?” you tease, hands on your hips.

She barks again, then waits.

You whistle — the command to settle.

Juno freezes, mostly, her tail sways in the grass.

“Not bad for a couple'a rookies, huh?” Juno woofs in agreement.

You saunter closer to the flock, planning to lead them through the wooden gate into their pen... but Juno's ears prick — and without warning, she snaps her head up, nose twitching furiously. The sheep shift uneasily, sensing the change in her energy.

“Juno.” You steadily step towards the sprightly dog.

She gives a soft whine, her attention drawn somewhere else.

“Juno.” You take another careful step. Your confidence falters as she continues to completely ignore you. It isn't the first time she's gotten distracted and you know she'll bolt if you're not cautious, but usually it doesn't take much more than one call of her name to coax her back into the task at hand. “Juno?”

Her head snaps in your direction and for a second you think you've broken her out of her trance, but she looks... uncertain. In a flash she is gone, streaking away from you and toward the far edge of the field, faster than you'd ever seen her move.

“Hey!” You shout, losing your composure instantly, “Juno, no! Get back here!”

She doesn't even glance back.

You don't hesitate to tear after her, dodging through the sheep, their wool brushing your legs. Your heart is pounding in sync with your boots hitting the ground — legs pumping with urgency. You vault the fence without thinking, boots hitting the ground with a frosty crack. The sheep are scattered behind you now, but you don't look back.

You are running blind, your scarf flying off your neck as you fly past the Bur Oak tree that Betty and Dixie like to doze under in the next pasture.

“Wait up! Juno!” Your voice echoes, lost in the expanse of the land. The dog’s shape is reduced to a small dot as she beelines for the tree line framing the wide river, toward the far edge of the ranch. She zooms past your ranch-house, the toolshed, the cabin, the coop and, lastly, where your land gives way to open country.

The main road is up ahead, the dusty gravel ribbon of it, and beyond it, the county highway — large vehicles barreling by without a care in the world.

A fear slams into you, hot and blinding — the image of a speeding truck, the sound of screeching brakes, the sickening thud of impact.

“Goddammit, Juno! STOP!” you scream, your voice raw with terror. You stumble harder, faster, reckless with the thought of her — your girl — running headlong into danger.

She skids to a halt.

Abrupt, frantic, paws digging into the dirt, throwing up a spray of dust around her.

You freeze mid-stride, nearly tripping over your own feet as you struggle to see what had made her stop so suddenly... all you're sure of is that it definitely wasn't because you'd desperately demanded for her to.

That's when you see the end of the invisible string that Juno had been nudging you to follow all along.

A flash of movement — a figure with a horse in tow walking up the path leading to the heart of the ranch from your front gate.

They're nothing more than a silhouette against the late sun, the light blinding and harsh, turning them into dark shadows cut from the sky.

Juno narrows the distance between her and them by a few yards, barking wildly — not in fear, not in warning, but in pure joy.

She throws herself at the figure, her whole body quivering, tail a white blur of motion.

The man —

He stiffly drops to one knee, the weight of his duffel bag on one shoulder and guitar case on the other had clearly been hurting him by the way he slumps them onto the ground. His hand comes up, offering it for Juno to sniff before burying it into her fur, holding onto her like a man drowning in a river would hold onto a branch.

Your lungs seize, useless in your chest.

You'd expected to see a coyote, a stray dog, a trespasser... not him.

Not Joel.

Not after two years of no written reply from him.

You'd told yourself a hundred times you were over it. Over him. That he was a chapter closed and done with. But seeing him now — clutching Juno to his chest like she's the only good thing left in the world, and her looking up at him like she'd been waiting her whole life to see him again — you realize you never stopped carrying those seasons you spent working together in your heart.

After pawing at his chest and licking his chin Juno drops back down to the ground, spinning in a tight circle before darting around him — sniffing behind his legs, then trotting to the left, nose to the wind. She lets out a quick bark, as if she'd forgotten something.

And then she whimpers. A puzzled, soft little sound. She stares up at him, then behind him again. Searching.

She's looking for George.

She circles him again, nose twitching, paws scuffing the dirt. She looks around him, examining his shadow like it's supposed to have one more set of paws beside it. She lets out another whine, even softer this time, her tail slowing. Then she sits right in front of him, head tilted, brow creased in that funny, thoughtful way dogs do when they can't quite understand where something's gone.

Joel doesn't speak. He just shakes his head.

No words. Just that tiny shake. A quiet answer.

Your throat tightens.

You feel it in your ribs — a dull ache. George had been there at the start. That cranky old Border Collie had been Joel’s second shadow, always watchful, always ready. You used to joke that George was the one in charge. That Joel was just his hands.

The idea of him gone — the space between Joel and Clint empty? You can’t fathom it.

Joel stands up with a grunt you can't quite hear and Juno noses at Joel's boot, giving one last huff before curling herself close to his leg again. She leans into him, pressing her face into the fabric of his jeans, trying to comfort him. Joel's hand comes down to rest on her head, comforting her in return.

He hasn't seen you yet. You're too far away and the brim of his cowboy hat is blocking a majority of his sight. Or maybe he has seen you and can't bring himself to look.

Slowly—so slowly—you pace forward, the frozen grass crackling underfoot, the cold biting high along your cheekbones until you're on the path Joel'd been walking up. You wrap your arms around yourself, partly for warmth, partly to stop yourself from shaking apart, panicking and running the other direction. You'd done this many times, usually to meet the postman, Troy or to check the road for deliveries.

The scrape of your boots alerts Joel and Juno as soon as you’re no more than three steps away from them.

Joel stares at you, his face blank—his mind struggling to process seeing you in the flesh.

The dog gives you a look as if to say: “it’s about time you joined us.”

Joel shifts awkwardly, lowering his eyes. He pulls his hat off and holds it to his chest, clutching it tightly in both hands. His hair is longer now, curling out at the edges, falling messily over his ears and shirt-collar —streaked with more silver. A gust of cold wind stirs it, and he doesn’t move to fix it.

He looks older.

That's the first thing that strikes you — not in a cruel way, just... truthful. The years had carved themselves into him — deliberate and unrelenting. The Joel standing at your gate isn't the same man who had handed you a puppy and asked you to stay with him four years ago. He'd been worn down — broken and weathered in that quiet, tragic way only time and loss could manage.

His frame is still broad, still unmistakably strong, but there's a leaner edge to it — a kind of hollowness at the shoulders — something vital had been carved out of him and never filled back in. His clothes are simple and dust-covered: faded jeans that cling to the muscle of his thighs, a worn green and black button-down, threadbare at the cuffs, scuffed boots that are white at the toes — creased with every step it took to get here — and a canvas jacket. You know it well. You'd stitched that shoulder, back when it had caught a nail after he'd insisted on fixing a fence post on a particularly cold night at his ranch. You sat on a stool outside your lodging with the jacket slung over your lap and a needle in hand — your fingers trembled so much — they were practically blue it was that freezing. Joel came walking down to your cabin from his ranch-house with two steaming mugs of hot cocoa, handed you one and sat on a tree stump opposite you without a word. It was unexpected. It was also the night you realized you didn't mind the quiet… as long as you shared it with Joel.

He looks like he hasn't done a single thing for the benefit of his own health, sure, but he's as ruggedly handsome as he was that night.

“Joel,” you manage to utter, your voice so small you barely hear it yourself. “What’re you—”

“Land’s somethin’ special.” His sad, sunken eyes skim past you, scanning over your ranch. “If anyone was gonna make somethin’ of it, it’d be you.”

You don’t respond. You just watch him with your mouth ajar—the way he keeps his shoulders stiff, the way he refuses to even meet your eyes.

“Always knew you deserved better than what my old shithole of a ranch was offerin’ for a life.”

Your fingers curl at your sides. You want to grab him, shake him, tell him you would’ve built this place with him if he’d only showed up. Tell him you never needed better — you needed him. “Joel—” you start, but he cuts you off, voice too casual to match the exhaustion in his facial features.

“You don’t gotta fuss over me, alright?” He finally glances your way, offering the ghost of a smile. “I ain’t here for a pity party. Just… figured I’d stop by. See it for myself.”

“Bullshit,” you scoff.

“‘Scuse me?”

“You heard me — if you wanted to see it that bad why didn’t you stop by two years ago?”

He ducks his head, ashamed, and nervously fiddles with the brim of the hat you named the “grumpy man’s crown” upon your first week of working with him, when you couldn’t get more than five words out of him… you feel like you’re back to square one all over again.

Without thinking, you reach out and grab his arm — solid under your fingers, tense with hesitation. His skin burns hot through the fabric of his jacket. He stiffens, surprised, but doesn’t pull away. You hook your spare hand around the strap of his duffel bag and grab the battered guitar case from where it’s slumped against his boot, completely ignoring his grumbled protests about doing his carrying for him. You tug at him — not gentle — dragging him toward the house with a strength you didn’t know you had.

Joel lets you, weakly whistling for Clint to follow.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ⇝

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 (𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞) 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆!!!!! 𝐈𝐭'𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 <𝟑

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ‘𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐭, 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 & 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐨’ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ↯

𝑂𝑓 𝐷𝑢𝑠𝑡, 𝐷𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑠 ＆ 𝐽𝑢𝑛𝑜

@dugiioh @monicasblues @millennialeldar @julesispunk @notyouraveragemochii @homophobicclownmoviestan

𝐽𝑜𝑒𝑙 𝑀𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑟

༺ 🐑 ༻

[chadobi]

Hi there! I’ve recently found your work and oh my god I’m obsessed! You write yearning so well! I’m chancing my arm and seeing if you take requests , if not please don’t worry and ignore this message!

I was wondering if you could write bayverse raph x reader , a little angst fluff maybe? Maybe he’s Inlove with her but doesn’t feel like he even has the right to let her know, angsty yearning, turns out she’s been madly in love with him for months

If you decide to do this Thankyou! Take as much creative liberty as you’d like! ☺️

“Stay Outta the Dark”

Thank you, sweetheart! That was my first request, so I’m really honored! I’ll do my best , let me know what you think!

Bayverse Raphael x reader

| agnst | confession | fight

Raphael didn’t belong in the light.

He was born in shadow, shaped by war and survival. Everything about him—his size, his face, his freakin’ existence—was built for battle. Not for soft things. Not for laughter. Not for you.

And yet, you were there.

Always there.

You started off as April’s friend. Someone from her past, someone smart and stubborn and too curious for your own good. And he’d hated you for that at first—your wide eyes, your easy friendliness, the way you looked at him like he was someone worth knowing.

He tried to avoid you. Tried to push you away with sarcasm and silence and every ounce of that hard shell he’d built to keep the world out.

But you never left.

You came back to the lair. You asked questions. You brought books and food and your dumb little playlist that Mikey became obsessed with. You laughed too loudly, fell asleep on their couch, danced around like the place belonged to you.

And somewhere along the way, you started belonging to him.

Not that he’d ever tell you.

Raphael didn’t have the right to want someone like you. You were light, he was stormclouds. You were soft edges, he was blades. If he touched you the way he wanted to—if he told you what he felt—it would ruin you. Pull you into the dark with him. And you didn’t deserve that.

So he stayed silent.

Watched you from a distance, memorizing your smile, your voice, your scent. Let his feelings rot in his chest like poison. Every laugh from you carved another crack in him. Every casual touch—your hand brushing his arm, your fingers in his bandana when you helped him fix it—felt like a blade under his skin.

And at night, when the others slept, he’d sit on the edge of the roof and whisper your name like a prayer and a curse. Don’t fall. Don’t hope. Don’t fucking dream.

But he dreamed anyway.

—————

It all came to a head on a cold, sharp night in November.

You showed up at the lair soaked from the rain, eyes red, voice shaking. Some guy you’d been seeing—some normal guy—had stood you up. And Raph hated how a part of him liked it. Hated how he had to fight the urge to punch a hole in the wall because he wanted to be the one to make you feel safe.

He didn’t say much. Just handed you a towel, let you rant, sat too close without meaning to.

Then you said it.

“Why can’t I just fall for someone who’s good for me?”

The words punched him in the gut. Because even you knew you wanted someone else. Someone better. Someone not him.

He snapped. “Maybe ‘cause you know you’d ruin it. Maybe that’s why.”

You looked at him like he’d slapped you. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means stop lookin’ for something you ain’t meant to have,” he growled, standing. “People like you don’t belong with people like me.”

“And what kind of person are you, Raph?” you asked, voice low and shaking.

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Just stared, jaw clenched, pain flashing like lightning behind his eyes.

“I see the way you look at me,” you whispered. “Like you’re starving. Like you hate yourself for it. And I—”

You hesitated. Then took a step forward.

“I look at you the same way.”

Raph backed up like he’d been burned. “Don’t. Don’t say that.”

“Why? Because it’s true? Because if you admit you want me, you’ll have to admit you’re capable of being loved back?”

His fists shook at his sides.

“You think I don’t know what I am?” he snarled. “I can’t be what you want. I’ll wreck you. I’ll drag you down with me. You’ll end up hating me, and I won’t survive that.”

Your voice cracked. “Then stop pushing me away before I have to prove you wrong.”

Silence stretched between you like a blade.

And then—you stepped close again, slowly, like approaching a wounded animal.

“You don’t scare me, Raph,” you said softly. “You never have.”

Tears prickled behind his eyes. He turned his face away.

You touched his hand.

He didn’t pull back.

“You don’t have to stay in the dark,” you whispered. “Not with me.

Something in him broke

Not all at once—but enough.

His hand closed around yours, rough and trembling. His forehead dropped against yours. And he breathed—really breathed—for the first time in months.

“If you get hurt ‘cause of me,” he rasped, “I won’t forgive myself.”

“Then don’t let me go,” you whispered.

And he didn’t.