#Barrel Racing fic

[ripperdoc-is-daddy]

She wins her own buckles

Reader is black coded and AFAB.

It's your first barrel race and you are nervous af. Inspo was me reminiscing back when I used to do western riding events. Heavy on the Western Horse world terminology. Mare slander abound. Geldings FTW. MHA/BNHA gang are support af. No pairings but if you can ship it if you want. It's written for you to interpret that aspect yourself. Fluff!

You were nervous. Today was the day all that training and work was gonna finally gonna come to fruition. You were competing in your first barrel race. You were in the open Adults (18-34) category and there were quite a few entrants. You would estimate that there were around 25 people including yourself who had all registered to run. The excitement of the competition was starting to make you nervous and you were gnawing on your bottom lip.  

A harsh jostling under you and between your thighs breaks your thoughts. Looking down you frown at your Grulla tovero mare and smack her thick neck. “Aiight. That was a dick move. How about we just not?” you speak to your steed knowing she doesn’t care. Mares never did. Rolling your eyes you look around for your trainer to hurry up and arrive.   

You had driven here 2 days ago with your mare and both of y’alls equipment. Your 4-horse Gooseneck trailer with quarters was a better ride and more comfortable for the horses than his 2-horse bumper pull. Plus, it had AC and the horses could lounge inside out of the heat. Drinking filtered water and munching that good, good, Alfalfa hay to make them nice and hot. Your trainer would show up the next day and help you prep.   

  

Well, that had been the plan. Clearly, that isn’t what went down since it was just you here. By yourself. Taking care of 3 horses and getting all the gear sets up and organized. Shaking your head, you bite your lip and glare at nowhere in particular. You were going to give him a verbal ass reaming when you saw him. He didn’t even have the decency to call and let you know what the fuck was going on. Well, he might have. You tilted your head off to the side and scrunched up your nose when you remember the signal here was spotty at best. He still could have called one of the other riders you both knew or even the organizers to relay the message to you, so he wasn’t off the hook!   

  

Righting yourself, you nod your head. Satisfied with your logic that said he was def in the wrong. Your mare begins to paw at the dirt impatiently. You cluck at her and she stops with a snort and neck bounce. Shaking your head, you begin to whisper self-affirmations inside your head that will reassure you that you will do great! You will score 2-D and bring home some cash so you can brag to a certain someone that he isn’t the only one who can make money racing.  

A woman with a long blonde braided ponytail is fast walking towards you with a clipboard and some dark shades on. Her skin is a beautiful warm umber color and she carries herself with a sense of authority and command. She stops when she is next to you, gives your horse a quick rub on the neck before her focus settles on you. “You’re up after this run. Gate 2. Stay behind the line and don’t move up until you are told to. Good luck.” She nods at you and you return it. She turns away and you nudge your mare forward with a shift of your body weight.   

As you ride forward to your gate you catch sight of the current race going on for the Men’s Division and wince. The runner had a horse who dropped its shoulder. That was bad form. He was all up in that poor thing's mouth too. Busy hands. It looked like a hot fuckin’ mess. Shaking your head, you nudge with your heels on your mount’s barrel and she begins to trot forward. The aisle is clear so you aren’t too worried about being reprimanded for bad etiquette. Besides, you both had nerves to work out. It’s all good.   

  

You bring your mare to a complete halt after you arrive at your gate and line up. You were happy all the work you put into this paint mare was worth it. She was a registered, 16hh Grulla Tobiano out of a dam and sire you had been in love with. She was pedigreed out the ass with amazing extension and the most beautiful engine you had ever seen on a horse since her Great Great Grand Dam. Densely muscled but testing negative for HYPP and Lethal White she was also a breeder's dream. Hopefully, this would be the beginning of a lustrous career that would set her up for a successful breeding career afterwards. She clocked high and was fully grown and matured at 4 years old. Sure, she was older than most of the 2-year-olds here but she would outperform the vast majority of them. You knew it. Now you had to do it.   

“What are you smilin’ like that for? You look creepy smilin’ to yourself like that.” A brash and deep voice breaks you out of your musings. “Mmm. Oh, look. You FINALLY decided to show up. Good for you. I’m about to run now soooo, you can go. I grained your horses as well. You’re welcome.” you snap back letting annoyance bleed into your tone of voice.   

  

“Yeah, yeah. I had some shit to do back home before I headed out. I thought I sent you a text about it but I guess it never sent out. Thanks for taking care of my idiots. Now stop being an idiot and get out of your head. You haven’t won shit.” Your head whips around so fast you feel the bones snap in a somewhat pleasant way though it sounds alarming as hell. “What the he-ARE YOU OK?” his voice gets louder as he inquires on your status after hearing that. Your mare snorts and begins to nod her head rudely over and over while pulling at the reins.   

Both of you chastise her and she turns her head to rudely bump your trainer in the chest. He grabs her chin and pulls her closer then scratches between her ears. “You haven’t lost shit either. Go in with a clear mind. Remember she reflects you. If you are shit for brains then she is gonna run for shit.” he scolds you while cooing at your mare and telling the traitor that she is the most beautiful and important woman in his life.   

Rolling your eyes, you tap your mare’s neck with the reins lightly and face both your heads forward. “Yeah, yeah. I got it, Bakugou,” you grumble, adjusting the Black Swarovski crystal-studded, 20x Beaver Felt hat with an Ostrich leather hat band that had cowrie shells around it. You hear an approving grunt in your trainer's direction so you sit up a little straighter in your seat. Thankful that your saddle was broken in so nicely. He “tch’s” and flips you off. “Bakugou, is it now?”  

  

Warm hands lightly pat your leg and you lift your black base with turquoise and red feather-stitched ARIATs out of your stirrups while the blonde owner of the hands begins to shorten your stirrups a bit more. “You need a proper seat. You had um too long. Leave them here for now. Any higher and you’ll be a jockey.” He says in jest though part of what he said you know is the truth. You look over at his tall frame, making contact with his Sanguine colored eyes. “Worried?” you question him. “Nah, I believe in her.” He kisses your mare’s neck and brings her head down for another smooch just above her brow bone. “You got a medicine hat. You’ll both do amazing.” Two more pats to her neck and he 2 finger salutes you.   

  

A cough on your other side breaks your attention away from your current conversation. Katsuki continues to check your gear and double-check your girth. Smacking your mare’s gut when she refuses to let out. She does with a loud fart and a rumble in her chest. The blond shakes his head and readjusts the girth one more time.   

“Move to the gate, please. You’re up.” Another somewhat shorter blonde winks at you from underneath a bright red rabbit-felt hat. It had matching red feathers on the browband and a single bright topaz concho affixed to it. “Thank you kindly.” You say as mockingly polite as you can. Trying to hold in the snickers. “Go away Hawks. She needs to focus. Why do people call you that?” Bakugou complains loudly as she places a hand on your mare’s rump and moves behind you both to cross the aisle.   

  

“Later boys!” you call out behind you as you nudge your mount forward. “Later. DO YOUR BEST!” Hawks calls out after you, breaking from his conversation with Bakugou. “Kill ‘em all!” Bakugou yells slightly louder earning him a few wary stares. You chuckle to yourself and steel your mind. Your moment was about to happen and you were going to prove that you were gonna be one of the best.  

  

The aisle is cleared and you see the attendants hop up over the corrugated steel gates. On either side. You are instructed to go forward to the starting line. You take a deep breath and clear your mind. Focusing on the beat of the music and calming yourself. Heart rate slowing and the sound of the crowd was drowned out the by words of the music.  You didn’t need to completely tune out everything.  

  

You hear y/n with your mare’s registered name along with nickname announced. Sucking in one last breath you let all the tension leave your body. Right now, was your time to shine.   

  

And shine you did. As soon as the signal to go went off, your mare shot out them gates like a bat out of hell! You made your way to the first barrel. Hugging it so tight it looked like your black, boot-cut ARIAT jeans were gonna touch the barrel but they didn’t. You and that mare were in perfect sync as you came around to the second barrel. Your hat is still firmly affixed to your head via bobby pin magic. Your 2B Senegalese twists were blowing black behind you as you came around the side and continued the pattern to loop the last barrel. After this, it was the straight shot.   

All those close turns shaved your time down but what you really needed was your mare to let go in this final stretch and secure y’alls win. Rounding the final barrel you kick your mare a few times and urge her to go all out and out all she does. The two of you are blazing down the center. You atop your lightning-fast steed, lookin’ like a force of nature. Running through the exit you use the lane to slow your horse down and bring her into a circle at the end to slow her down into a trot and then a walk until you can finally stop.  

You fan yourself several times and grab the collar of your black and turquoise stitch ARIAT long-sleeve top and pop it to give yourself some air. “Holy shit. Holy shit.” you chant to yourself realizing you finally did it. You made your race! A smile steals itself across your face and you beam up looking proud. You begin to walk you and your mare outside for a cooldown and to clear the lane for the next runner. Trusting your trainer to get back to you about your score results.   

  

You are on your cooldown walk with your mare when Hawks comes walking up to you eyes wide. “You did it!” he cheers quietly so as not to startle your excited beast of burden. “I did it!” you chime back at him happily. He gives you double-finger guns and comes up to your side to help you down. You take the offered assistance and slide out of the saddle and into his arms. You stare up at the man and thank him graciously. “Where is Katsuki?” you ask as you bring your reins around and unclip them as Hawks halters her up and hands you the lead once he is finished.   

“Mm? Dynamite had a run himself that started after yours. He is probably getting both of your scores right now.” the taller red and yellow Stetson-outfitted man says as he hands you a water bottle you have no idea where he produced it from. Not lookin’ a gift horse in the mouth, you begin to chug it. “Settle down now. We don’t want you to choke after that perfect run.” He chastises you.   

Rolling your eyes must have been the theme of the day because here you were doing it again. Sighing you shook your head and resumed drinking till the plastic bottle was empty. The two of you headed back to your truck and trailer pleasantly chatting and catching up with one another. When you arrive, you see a couple members of your circle lounging on your black Dodge Ram 3500 fully loaded.   

  

You whistle at the group and wave at Kirishima, the Todorokis (Touya and Shouto), Ashido, and Midoriya. They look over at you and cheer. Touya nods at you in his black jeans and black short sleeve t-shirt combo. A stark contrast from his brilliantly white hair. He walks up to you and takes the lead out your hand. He guides your mare to the round pen you had brought with you and set up off to the side. Out of the way of everyone and with permission from the grounds manager. He removes her gear and sets it off to the side while he leans against the gate and watches her buck and fart after he turns her out.   

You smile fondly at him admiring how he dotes on your mare. Cheering her on and praising her. Overinflating her already overly inflated mare ego. That would be a thing you were gonna have to deal with later. When you got home. You weren’t gonna deal with that attitude right now.   

  

Right Now, you wanted to celebrate with your friends and wait for Bakugou to get back with your damn results. You already knew he had won his run. He always does. Huffing you dance over to your group. Moving to the rhythm of GIMS-YOLO. Ashido meets you and the two of you giggle as you celebrate your run and Keigo (or Hawks as he goes by) recounts your run with much embellishment.   

  

The playlist continues to go through GIMS, Mohammed Ramadan, Idris, Soolking, and a few of y’alls other favorites when Bakugou shows up with his Gelding. Scowling. Like normal. He ignores you as he removes his tack and ties his horse to the trailer. Going inside the stall compartment to grab a hose, brushes, and various other things he would need to cool his horse off. Izuku joins him and begins to water his horse and quietly praise him while Bakugou leans back on his heels contemplating.   

  

You start to wander over in his direction but stop when two women boldly come up to him and begin to chat him up. Shouto side-eyes them and nudges Eijiro as they turn their focus onto your trainer and his new companions. The conversation starts out harmlessly enough. They praise his run. Say it was expected since he is a 4-time Pendleton Round-Up champion. He nods boredly at first and gives the usual canned answers. It wasn’t until they begin to talk about you that his attitude changes.   

You were upfront by the speakers with Ashido to give Katsuki some space to have his conversation since the area was small when you heard the slander.   

“You must be so sick of y/n following you around all the time.” A short pale blonde commented.   

“For real! Her race wasn’t even that great. I left as soon as I heard you were running, Dynamite.” a slightly taller redhead says beside her.   

Your head snaps back and to the side with your mouth doing an “O” face in surprise. “Oh no they didn’t like I am not here!?” you loudly whisper to Mina who motions for you to quiet down and points to Katsuki who appears to be neutral about the whole thing. For a whole four seconds. Then he is roaring with raucous laughter.   

“The hell are you two harpies talkin’ about? You tryin’ to say she is a buckle bunny? Hah! Right! She is so much of one she went and earned one herself!” he announces proudly as he flashes you a bright and happy smile. Breaking away from the now put-off women to strut over to you and hand you a paper with your time on it circled in bright red.   

  

You had placed first! You were 1-D! Your jaw drops and you begin to whisper your disbelief. “Is this legit?!” you demand to know. “No shit, Sherlock.” He flicks you on your forehead. You jump up and wrap your arms around his neck and hug him dearly. “I won! I really won!” you cheer and chant over and over. “OH OH! GROUP HUG!” Mina announces and runs over to join in. Katsuki growls and wraps his arms around you returning your hug and accepting Mina touching him when she joins to hug you.   

The rest of your group joins in, including Touya. He enjoys the look of misery on Katsuki’s face. Your crew completely dismisses the rude pair of women who summarily leave. They are not missed as your circle continues to celebrate till your next event is to start later that night. Everyone smiles as they cheer you on and leave you fresh and ready to take on your next sport which you were completely at home with. You were on Bakugou’s cow-eatin’ Bay Tobiano Stallion and you were getting ready to show everyone what the sport of cutting was all about.   

  

You grin up at the crowd, wave then turn to face your opponent. A beautiful black Angus steer that had mean written all over it. He was a beacon in the herd of red Angus. Tipping your hat to your quarry you grin deviously and move forward. Ready to win this shit and take home another buckle.   

  

Fin 

[tightjeansjavi]

♡‧₊˚𓃗 City Slickers 𓃗 ♡‧₊˚

A/N: horse girlies..imma need y’all to rise up for this one 🤠 double trouble are coming around the corner, and they’re comin’ in HOT

Pairing | barrel racing! Joel Miller x barrel racing Tommy Miller x barrel racing! f! reader

Summary: it’s Austin’s biggest barrel racing season yet. You’ve been the reigning champ for the past two years, and you’re not about to give up your title willingly. Joel and Tommy Miller are rookies in your eyes. City Slicker pretty boys is all they are to you, until you see them ride. Perhaps they aren’t just two city slickers after all.

Warnings: eventual smut, threesome! Paris is lovely this time of year, reader doesn’t take to losing lightly, Joel and Tommy are lowkey cocky assholes but the reader is into it, unsanitary sexual situations (in the back of a horse trailer) no outbreak/AU, no age gap, reader is a Texas native, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

Chapters |

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[theemporium]

yes lando comfort fic where maybe you weren’t at qatar but after yesterday took the first flight there. and it’s just full of hugs, kisses, massages, praise, pep talks. He’s got his head on your chest or in your lap :(

my heart actually breaks for the boy :(

.

The second you saw the qualifying results, you knew you had to fly out. 

You hadn’t originally planned to. You were swamped with classes and lectures and work, and after taking time off to travel to Singapore and Japan with him, you couldn’t exactly afford to take more time off for Qatar as well. 

And Lando had been understanding. To be honest, he was just happy you had taken time out to join him on two race weekends that turned out pretty damn well in respect to the start of the season. And he knew no matter what he said about compensating for your time off work, you wanted to go back before you eventually flew out to join him in the last stint of races. 

But that was before the shit-show of the Qatar Grand Prix weekend started. 

You hadn’t been able to talk to him earlier that day, too late running for work that a simple reply to his good morning message was the only thing you could send. Nor did you have the chance to keep up with the practice session. However, when you opened your phone after walking out of work to see the qualifying results, you didn’t even hesitate. 

You had played it all out perfectly, getting onto the next plane out to Qatar whilst messaging your boss that you had a stomach bug and couldn’t come in until you stopped vomiting. You had shared a few messages here and there with Lando, but he didn’t seem all too eager to talk to you, let alone anyone after the messy qualifying session. 

You didn’t arrive at the paddock until the sprint had already started, and it only went downhill from there. You thought the McLaren front row lock out would have brought up morale, but you were wrong. 

It was shit. You knew the second he crossed the line in P3 that he wasn’t going to be happy with himself. You knew it, and yet, the second his radio came through confirming as such, your heart only broke more. 

You knew your boy. You knew he would be keeping it all in. But you knew no matter what, he wouldn’t break in front of everyone else. He would pat Oscar on the back and he would play the good teammate and happy chap as best he could to the media. He would play his part. 

Until he said five words that truly shattered your heart.

“Just a lack of talent.”

The second he was done with interviews, he just wanted to be left alone. He didn’t want to listen to whatever his team were saying, he didn’t want to deal with the debrief and strategy planning for tomorrow’s race. He just wanted to be fucking alone so he could stop pretending. 

He was almost annoyed when he saw his driver room door was open, ready to snap at whoever it was lingering inside his room. But then he was standing at the doorway and he saw you in the room, a sad smile on your face as you waited for him, and every resolve within him crumbled in seconds. 

The door was slammed shut and he was barrelling towards you before you could even open your mouth. His arms locked around your waist, his face was nuzzled into the crook of your neck and he sunk into your embrace, almost like it was a sigh of relief. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered to him, clinging onto him tightly.

And then, he just sobbed.

You didn’t say anything as he cried in your arms, simply holding him and hugging him and doing your best to sway back and forth as his body wracked with sobs. And when he couldn’t keep himself standing anymore, you sat down on the couch with his head buried in your lap as you slowly wiped away the tears streaming down his face, hot and flushed and embarrassed but he didn’t care about his mask when he was with you.

“I’m not good enough,” he whispered, his voice raspy from all the crying.

You blanched. “Lando—”

“Five fucking seasons,” he murmured, his glossy eyes looking anywhere but you, because he knew he would start crying again if he looked at you and he was far too tired for that. “I have been doing this for five seasons and everyone keeps fucking expecting that I get a win and it’s not happened—”

“Lando,” you tried again, but he continued.

“He’s a fucking rookie,” Lando whispered in disbelief. “I just….this is just what they need. This is what they need to say that I’m done, that I’m fucking useless, that I don’t deserve my seat and I’m just some waste of fucking space that can’t even win a fucking race and—”

“Hey,” you snapped enough to finally gain his attention. “Look at me.”

He shook his head.

“Lando,” you said in a softer voice as your palm cupped his cheek, gently turning his head until he was looking up at you. “Look at me.” 

“I’m not good enough to be here,” he whispered in a broken voice. “I’m not as good as they say I am. As they expected me to be.”

“That’s bullshit and we both know it,” you whispered back, shaking your head as you took in his glossy eyes and pink cheeks.

Lando started shaking his head again, but you continued. 

“Lando Norris, you are one of the most talented and skilled drivers in this sport,” you said to him. “One weekend does not define you, nor does it take away from all your achievements.”

“I made stupid mistakes—” He started again.

“And everyone does,” you countered. “Everyone makes mistakes, Lando. That’s what makes us human, but that does not make us not good enough or untaleneted.”

He didn’t say anything. 

“Your day will come,” you said as your thumb gently stroked the apple of his cheek. “And it will be fucking amazing. And I can’t wait to be standing there, watching you on that top step as you hit that stupid champagne bottle and try not to break your trophy. And it will be the first of many.”

He let out a small huff of amusement. 

“You are more than enough, Lando, and I’m so proud of you,” you whispered to him, your eyes finding his so he could see the sincerity in your voice and words. “And you’re enough whether you have a million race wins or none. You are enough just the way you are.”

Lando sniffled, giving you a wet smile—and it wasn’t much, but it was a step forward. 

“I love you,” you whispered with a soft smile. “And I’ll love you no matter what.”

“I love you too,” he whispered back as he nuzzled himself further into your lap. “Thank you for coming.”

“Always, baby,” you grinned. “I’m always gonna be here for you.”

“Promise?” 

Your heart almost broke with how vulnerable he sounded. 

“Promise.” 

.

[crookedteethed]

18+ smut, cursing, Dark!Rafe, fearplay, gunplay, manipulation, slut shaming, accused cheating, this is readers punishment : (

⋆ ★ dark!rafe fucks you with his asp pistol <3

plink (the catalyst for this fic frl)

Rafe puts his pistol to your dome and tells you:

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't shoot you."

The scent of gunpowder and leather filled the air, the taste of fear and desire lingering on your tongue.

You could feel his hot breath against your skin, his fingers tightening around the trigger.

A part of you wanted to fight, to defy him and refuse to give in to his demands. But another part, a darker part, was drawn to his power and dominance.

"Fucking answer me!" Rafe rattled your body.

Your cheeks had been wet with tears--your cunt wetter than a barrel of slugs.

"B...Because I love you?" You squealed.

"B-Because I love you." Rafe mocked your whiny tone, a small smile curling unto his lips.

"You don't fucking love me!" Rafe spat. "You think I'm an idiot, y/n?" He rattled your body once more. "I see the way you slut your way around the Country Club."

"I do love you, Rafe!" you whined, tears spewing from your eyes. How could he say this? "Rafe, I swear I love you, I don't want anybody but you." 

"I mean, do you intentionally try to fuck with me Y/n?" He asks, his brows furrowing together.

You quickly shook your head. "no." 

"It's like--" Rafe paused, his hand starting to get wobbly, but he never let down; he never kept the barrel aiming away from your brain. 

"It's like you don't even consider that I'm a person in this relationship too." He continued. "It’s like you don't even consider that it's men out there that want to hurt you--take advantage of you, but you continue to prance around here--shaking your little ass in these slutty fucking clothes--"

Your heart raced as you were certain his finger had pulled back on the trigger - a sight that made you let out a desperate "Please, I love you." in terror.

"Prove it to me, then. Get on your knees. Prove to me that you love me." Rafe lightly kicked your knees in to kneel under him.

Your body trembled as you sank to your knees, the hardwood floor cold against your skin. Rafe towered above you, his eyes cold and unyielding.

"Please, Rafe, let me prove it to you. Let me show you how much I love you." Your voice shook, but your gaze remained fixed on him, pleading.

"If you truly loved me, you'll do as I say." Rafe's voice was harsh, his breath coming in sharp rasps.

You reached for him, your hands shaking as you pulled him closer, your shaky hands palming his hard cock.

"Un uh." He hummed, pushing you away. "Turn around and get on all fours."

You did as you were told, feeling a slight relief from the release of the gun pointed towards your head.

As you took your position on all fours, Rafe trailed after you, settling into a kneeling stance behind you, mimicking the posture of doggy style.

As his fingers traced the hem of your mini skirt, baring your ass and swollen core glistening with wetness, you let out a heavy breath.

"You're such a slut," he elongated, his gaze and touch fixated on your buttocks.

Suddenly, his hand connected with your flesh in a sharp smack, eliciting a surprised cry from you.

And then, with a hungry urgency, he pulled your dainty panties aside, sending a shiver of pleasure through your body as the cool air brushed against your sensitive clit.

Just as you thought you could feel him entering you, the realization hit that it was not his cock, but the chilly draft from his gun.

A sharp intake of breath, a moment of anticipation, and then the cold, hard steel of the pistol pressed against your heated skin.

You flinched, a shiver running down your spine, as he held the weapon there, its tip teasing your entrance. "Please…" you whispered, your voice hoarse with need.

"I need it." He said nothing, only smirked, his eyes dark with desire, as he ran the barrel of the gun along your slit, collecting your juices.

"Look at this shit." Rafe said, showing you the barrel of the gun, coated in your arousal. "Such a greedy little cunt you have." he cooed.

You whimpered, your body trembling, craving more. Then, with a swift movement, he plunged the pistol into you, filling you with its unyielding length.

A gasp escaped your lips as he began to thrust, the sound of metal sliding against your wetness filling the room.

The feeling was incomparable to any other, a distinctive combination of delight and risk--and at no point did the thought cross your mind if his firearm was loaded.

All you cared about was proving to Rafe you love him.

You could feel the power in his movements, each thrust sending a rush of sensation through you.

"I should pull the trigger." Rafe grimacingly spoke into your ear, causing an illicit moan to escape your lips "My final staple to show everyone who really owns you--taking your life as if I brought you into it."

"Please Rafe--" You choke.

You were terrified but couldn't help but be aroused as Rafe pressed his gun into your cunt, threatening to kill you.

Each thrust was a punishment, a reminder of how much you truly loved him.

You wanted to tell him that you didn't care about anyone else, that he was the only one who truly owned you.

But the words were caught in your throat, choked out by the fear and pleasure coursing through you.

The gun felt cold inside your cunt, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Rafe's body.

You could feel his anger and jealousy consuming him, his desire to possess you completely. And in that moment, you realized that this was all you ever wanted. To be owned by Rafe, to belong to him in every way possible.

But as Rafe's grip on the gun tightened and his thrusts became more bruising, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. This was a dangerous game you were playing, and you had no idea how it would end.

But despite the fear, you couldn't bring yourself to stop. All you cared about was proving your love to Rafe, even if it meant risking your own life.

Your body moved with his, your curves swaying, your breath coming in sharp pants.

You surrendered to the sensation, to the feel of the pistol's grip digging into your core as Rafe pounded it into you.

A cry escaped your lips as you climaxed, your body shaking with the force of it.

He continued to thrust the gun into you, his movements relentless, drawing out your pleasure until you thought you could take no more.

Then, with a final, deep push, he held the pistol still, its barrel buried within you—grazing that sweet spot.

You felt the warmth of his body against your back as he whispered, his hot breath on your skin, "You like that, don't you, slut?”

And as those last words escaped Rafe's lips, you had drenched the metal of his gun with your essence. Your fluids covered the ground, his hand, and your legs, leaving you spent and exhausted, your climax intertwining with the metal of Rafe's gun.

The ground beneath you was soaked, a testament to the intensity of your release. Your legs trembled, unable to support your weight, as you whispered those three words that held so much power.

"I told you I love you," you murmured, your voice hoarse and filled with emotion.

In that moment, as you lay vulnerable and exposed, you knew that your words carried a weight that could not be undone.

The metal of the gun, now cool to the touch, contrasted with the heat of your declaration.

Rafe, witnessing the raw honesty of your emotions, was rendered speechless, his hand still resting on your leg, feeling the tremors of your heart's confession.

What other lengths would you go to for his affection, Rafe pondered, what other depths?

[twola]

idk if this is too vague, but arthur/f!reader in the classic trope of, oh my god I can't believe we both almost just died sex? did they both almost drown? Was there a fire? did he save her life? who knows! i feel like arthur would sees the woman he loves almost die and immediately fuck about it

Okay this has been in my asks for WAY too long and it’s such a good one and I wanted to do it justice.

Left Unsaid

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

When he think's he's almost lost you in a run-in with a rival gang, Arthur quickly gets over his nervousness in approaching you.

The bloodcurdling scream jolts him from sleep, making him stumble up from where he was sitting on a rickety chair in the main room of the old cabin. At first, he thinks it's a dream, but when the sound of breaking glass pierces the night, Arthur shoots up; the chair falling to the ground in a clatter as he quickly shakes the vestiges of sleep from his mind.

This abandoned cabin off of Eris Field seemed the perfect place to spend the night instead of making the trek all the way back to Shady Belle tonight - your yawning from behind him on his horse had him chuckling as he made the decision to stay - doing the gentlemanly thing and giving you the bedroom with the old single bed. As much as he’d like to be sharing it with you - he remained externally aloof - proclaiming that he’d sleep on the chair in the main room. He certainly did not dare to ask to share your bed - not now, probably not ever. 

But the rustling and thumping behind the door where you sleep has his heart racing - his hand flies to his revolver as he readies himself to throw his shoulder into the door and shoot whatever it is that is making that noise, but the door bursts open before he gets the chance.

A man stands on the threshold - dirty, and grimy, with a faded gray woolen military uniform and a yellow bandana around his neck.

Of course, goddamn Lemoyne Raiders.

The raider holds up his knife in front of him, and in the din of movement and chaos around them, Arthur can see the liquid sheen over the steel in the man’s hand.

The knife, dripping with blood. The man, seemingly unharmed. The door, slightly ajar, to the bedroom where you slept.

A cold stone settles in Arthur’s gut as he puts the pieces together. In an instant, he snarls, diving toward the man with little regard for his own person, tackling him to the ground and ready to rip him apart with his bare hands for what he’s done to you. As Arthur mounts himself on the man’s chest and begins to strangle him, the movement knocks the oil lantern off the table, crashing to the wooden floor and immediately bursting into flame.

The man’s neck snaps between Arthur’s hands and he immediately leaps up, moving toward the bedroom where you were sleeping.

Another body crashes into him, a Lemoyne Raider dressed like he is straight out of a Civil War battle tackles Arthur to the ground, the two of them tumbling along the floor and breaking through the rickety door to the porch. Arthur rolls backward, unsheathing his hunting knife as he grits his teeth, ready to slice this damn bastard into shreds.

Of course, the wannabe soldier is no match for the hardened outlaw. They sure as hell don’t make them like they used to. Arthur easily dodges a swing of the man’s fist and throws his weight forward. He sinks his knife into the raider’s gut, and immediately shoves him to the ground. He gurgles blood from his mouth as Arthur rushes over him, back toward the house.

The flames burst out the windows as he barrels back toward the door, grabbing at the handle and cursing aloud as it burns him. 

The constriction in his chest has settled into a churning in his gut as he prepared to kick the door in. At this point would he be finding your charred, lifeless body, having bled out on the floor because he couldn’t protect you?

“Arthur-!”

He steps off the porch, not sure if he is lightheaded or hallucinating, but you move toward him, hitching your skirts, blood covering your blouse, your hair wild.

“Jesus-” He crashes into you, having nearly leaped the final few steps, crushing you into his chest, nearly causing you to stumble.

He yanks you back, large hands on your shoulders, and looks you up and down, eyeing the blood patch on your blouse.

“N-not mine.” You breathe, but he does not move his hand from your ribcage. It presses inward, against the wet cotton, splaying across your side as if he did not believe you, checking for where the knife would have marred your flesh.

“Arthur-” You whisper, your hands tight on his biceps, “I’m alright.”

His eyes dart back up to yours, searching, pupils dilated, breathing heavily.

“Ar-”

You’re cut off completely as he pulls you against him and presses his lips desperately against yours, muffling your surprised yelp as his tongue demands entrance into your mouth. After a moment of shock, you melt into his embrace, fingers tightening on his shirt sleeves as you open your mouth to him.

He kisses you like you are the air he breathes. Like you are some kind of salvation… like he thought he almost lost something.

Arthur pulls back, breathing heavily, a flush having taken over his face, “Christ-” he goes to unwind his arms from you, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

It’s his turn to be cut off as your hands immediately travel to the collar of his shirt and you pull him down to your lips to kiss him again, needy as you moan into his mouth.

His arms immediately recircle you, hands moving down from your ribs, down, down to your waist, your hips, your rear. Hooking his arms around the back of your thighs, you’re lifted up, squealing in surprise into his mouth as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

Continuing to press into each other's mouths, you barely notice him walking the two of you back, further from the flaming cabin, into the woodline, and finally against a tree trunk a safe distance away. He pulls back, panting as you recline against it, his arms tight under your thighs.

He gazes upon your kiss-swollen lips; your heaving chest as you breathe heavily, your pupils blown wide in arousal. Arthur takes the opportunity to roll his hips once, his hardening cock pressing against your cunt, and your eyes flutter closed as a needy, breathy whine escapes your lips.

“Arthur-”

He does it again, maybe for his sake as much as your own, the blood rushing to his groin and filling his cock properly. He grits his teeth as the rolling becomes rutting, your gasps driving him insane.

Before he gets to the point of no return, he slows his hips and leans over to recapture your lips in another kiss. As he pulls his 

“Thinkin’ you was dead back there-” He pushes his lips to yours again, “Christ- I… I never told you-” 

One of his hands leaves your thighs, but you have no fear he’s going to drop you. He buries it in layers of cotton, pulling at your skirts to move them from his way, reaching your bloomers and pressing against your cunt, watching your face intently as you moan, the cotton separating you quickly dampening against his fingers.

He leans in again and groans against your neck. Grabbing the cotton tightly, he yanks until he feels the seams give way, the tearing sound ringing in his ears as he delves within the ruined fabric to your soaking folds. You jolt against him and whine loudly as he slides his fingers along the seam of your body.

Arthur covers your mouth with his own as he sinks his fingers into you, working you open as you clutch desperately at his shoulders.

After you’ve cried out several times in the night, his hand leaves you and you sigh at the loss, he shushes you gently as he works at the buttons of his trousers, finally freeing his cock from his pants after moments of fiddling. His hand returns to your thigh as he adjusts you in his arms. The head of his cock presses gently against the rim of your cunt.

Your hands move from his shoulders to cup his face, your thumb tracing his lower lip gently before he sucks the tip into his mouth, his eyes trained on yours.

He pulses his hips and his cockhead slips inside you. Your brows crinkle with the first vestiges of the ache of penetration, and he leans forward again to press his lips upon your forehead.

“What did you never tell me?” You whisper as he holds you on the cusp of joining, the precipice of sheathing himself into you.

One of his hands leaves your thigh, though you are completely unafraid of falling with your legs wrapped around him and the strength of his other arm. His fingers brush back a strand of your hair from your forehead, tucking it gently behind your ear before his rough and calloused palm rests on your cheek.

“You’d have died and I woulda never told you I’m in love with you.”

Your eyebrows raise in shock as you clutch at him, and while you remain silent, after a moment, you pull him closer with your legs, nudging his back with your ankles, and he slowly slides himself inside you, inch by inch, until your hips touch and you mewl with the stretch. He hums softly before slowly, gently, rocking his hips, starting a slow rhythm as you get used to him.

His powerful arms keep you suspended against the tree trunk with each roll of his hips, each glide of the inches of him in and out of you, well glossed and hot with your slick.

Arthur’s lips press to yours incessantly, muffling your gasps and whines as he presses into you. After one particularly deep thrust, you throw your head back in ecstasy, bumping against the trunk of the tree.

“Careful there, darlin’,” Arthur slows his hips, and tightening his grip on your thighs, he pulls you away from the tree, you yelp and tighten your legs around his hips. He chuckles softly as he walks you, still joined, a few steps from the tree and slowly lowers the both of you to the ground on a patch of grass. Spreading himself out over you, he buries his head against your neck as he lets go of your thighs, his forearms on either side of your shoulders, rocking his hips into yours again.

The staccato whine of the syllables of his name escapes you as you hook your ankles around each other over his back. Carding your hands through his hair, your fingers interweave between his honeyed strands, his hat long gone in your desperation to join yourselves.

He presses himself up above you as his thrusts become more erratic, his breathing loud and heavy as he pounds you into the ground.

“God-” you cry out as your hands grasp his shirt, “Arthur, yes-”

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, looming over you as he careens toward completion.

You arch your back, your thighs wrapping tighter around him as you begin to babble - “Yes- Arthur… I love you too-”, another gasp as he hits that spot within you, “God - I love you so much-”

That’s it. There it is, stripped bare and bleeding out like an open wound, his heart catching in his chest at your confession, and his amazement leaves him speechless as he thrusts into you once more, holding himself as deep as he can possibly get into you, feeling you pulse and clutch around him, wailing your pleasure into the night. It’s only a moment more before he has the wherewithal to yank himself from you, in the nick of time as he spurts his seed over your cunt, dripping white into the dark curls at the joining of your legs.

He’s gasping, you’re gasping, and he groans as he settles himself to the side of you, barely able to hold himself up with the exertion. Your legs hang open as you pant, flushed from your cheeks down your neck.

One of his large hands spreads out over your chest, against your racing heart, and you turn your head toward him, breathing out through your nose as a smile graces your lips.

“Probably should get outta here before any more stragglers find us.” He says, out of breath as he removes his hand to tuck himself back into his trousers. You nod and sit up, pulling your skirts down over your legs.

“D’ya think…” you trail off as you watch him rebutton his pants before he pushes himself to stand. His hair is ridiculously ruffled from the amount of times you've run your fingers through it.

“Mm?” He holds out his hand to you to help you up. 

You take it, and he pulls you up into his embrace, his hand secure on your lower back.

“Was wondering if we could spend the rest of the night in Rhodes or somewhere instead of heading all the way back to camp…” You ask as you lay a hand on his chest.

He squeezes you closer to him. 

“Sounds mighty nice… certainly wouldn't mind a stay in a hotel room tonight.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 14

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Lloyd wheezes and rubs his chest. You look down at him from the other side of chaise. You have to fight to keep the grin from your face. Your eyes slowly drift to the door. 

“Don’t even fucking think—of it,” he huffs as he kicks the chaise into your leg. You wince and let out an ow, “you’re in big fucking trouble now, baby face.” He rolls onto his shoulder and presses his hand to the floor, “fuck.” 

“Sir, I didn’t do anything--” 

“You know what the fuck you did,” he snarls as he sits up. 

“I did nothing. I’m sorry I’m weak,” you pout, “I couldn’t hold on--” 

“Oh my piss!” He pushes himself up to his feet, standing straight with effort, “you don’t stop. You’re going to drive me fucking nuts.” 

You’re quiet as you watch him. Is he not already there? He kidnapped you pretty much and hates you but won’t let you leave. It really seems insane to you. 

“Sir, with all due respect, I have offered to leave you alone.” 

“You just need to learn to shut your mouth,” he stomps around the chaise.  

You scramble into action and back away from him, making a circle around the piece of furniture as he advances, “now, sir,” you put your hands up, “I thought we were having fun. Playing a little game and you know when you play games, you can get hurt.” 

“Stop, come here,” he snarls as he gets closer and you hop backwards to evade his reach. 

“That seems like a bad idea.” 

“I said stop!” 

“You say stop but your eyes say run,” you babble. 

“This is your problem. You just don’t get who’s in charge. Me. I am!” His voice rises to a roar.  

Your eyes round, “I get it, F—Lloyd, I truly understand it. My dad too was a strict man.” 

“Dad? What the fuck are you talking about?” 

You continue your circles around the chaise, dizzy as you stagger on your heels. 

“I’m saying that I have known men like you--” 

“You’re comparing me to your dad?” 

“Well, I’m no fan of Freud by any means--” 

“Jesus!” 

He lunges and you dodge out of his way. He hits the square side table and you yipe. You don’t think you just go. You spin on your feet and race for the door. You let your adrenaline do the thinking as you rip it open and stumble into the hall. 

You won’t get far. You’re not stupid. You’re naked as sin and if you leave the house, you see a quick trip in a cruiser for indecent exposure. Still, you might find somewhere to wait out his rage. Just like with your dad. 

Alright, let’s cool it on the daddy issues here. 

You pump your arms as your feet slap on the floor. He’s following you. You can hear him. Like a charging bull. You can’t look back. You won’t.  

You veer around the corner and don’t have time to think. You don’t know where the heck you’re going. Far away from him is the only option you have. You barrel down the next hall, chest burning, head spinning. You keep going as your puffing fills your head and smothers out his pursuit. 

You can’t go any further. You have to stop. You have to hide! 

You open a door. Shit. It’s a closet but hey, there’s blankets. No time to think, just get in. You climb in an pulled down one of the folded waffle blankets. You shut the door, closing yourself into darkness and wrap yourself in the coveted warmth of the cotton. 

You hear him catch up. He’s just on the other side of the door. He growls and his heel squeaks on the floor. He paces back and forth, opening this door and that. He might think you’re smart enough not to choose the linen closet but that means he’s learned nothing. 

You wait until he’s gone. You shake your head. Having a big house is such a hassle. You can’t imagine cleaning a place like this, although he is the type to hire a cleaner so he probably doesn’t either. Still, what if you lost your phone in here? 

You let the tension flow out and lean back against the wall, keeping your neck bent under the shelf. You sit, folded up in the cramped space, and resign yourself to the tight purgatory. He just needs a minute. He’ll exhaust himself with his tantrum and then you’ll be okay. 

Besides, it seems pretty easy to distract. A few strokes and he’s compliant. Just like a cat. Not to mention he has the whiskers too. 

👄

Despite the uncomfortable circumstance you’ve stuffed yourself into, you fall asleep. There’s something about a traumatic experience that really takes it out of you. You don’t realise you’ve dozed off until the world falls out from under you and you sprawl out on the floor outside the closet. 

Your shoulder hits the cold wood and a woman lets out an exclamation, “Mr. Hansen! Mr. Hansen! There’s--” She sputters as she stares down at your dopey eyes, blinking up at her as reality slowly seeps back in, “there’s a woman!” 

She flutters off and you watch after her. That must be the cleaner. How’d you call it? 

As you sit up, you hear the echoing footsteps. It’s too late. You’re a goner. You clear your throat and cling to the blanket as you stand to face the music, rather, the mustache. 

Lloyd charges down the hall with long strides. You peer around, realising the windows are rather bright, also noting his change of clothes. Either you slept through the night or that closet has time traveling capabilities. 

“There the fuck you are,” he sneers. 

“Hello, sir, fine morning--” 

“Don’t,” he stops in front of you and points in your face, “here’s the deal, alright? We start over.” 

“So if we’re going back to the beginning, can I go home--” 

“Zip. It.” He chops the air with his hand. “You’re not leaving, let’s get that clear. Now, you are not here to talk or do whatever it is you do. You are here to serve me. You are here because you need to learn a thing or two about authority. About who the fuck I am.” 

“Lloyd Jansen,” you mumble and his face pales as the vein in his forehead throbs. “Hansen!” You say louder, “understood, sir.” 

“Why are you like this?” He asks. 

You stare at him. You’re going to try. The olive branch he extends is brittle and thin but it’s something. 

“I will be good, sir,” you put your chin, “I’ll try. I accept. Start again.” You keep yourself from saluting and instead, extend your hand to him, “deal?” 

He stares you in the face then looks down at your hand. He exhales and his cheek twitches. He reaches to shake your hand firmly. He grips tightly until your bones ache. You whimper and wilt. 

“Please, for the love of god,” he begs as he holds onto you, “stop talking for five minutes.” 

You can’t agree. Not aloud. So, you seal your lips emphatically and nod. He lets you go and you look at your wrist but there’s no watch there. You glance at him and shrug, holding up five fingers. He sighs and pinches his nose. 

“Just don’t talk unless I tell you too.” 

[verstappensrealwife]

would you be able to write about lance stroll? possibly a story where she is his childhood best friend and they end up together. Smut if possible!!

Beyond Friendship's Boundaries - Lance Stroll x Reader

smut.

approx. 1960 words.

warnings: oral (fem!recieving), awkwardness in the start, sex (p in v). --- Also my horrid smut writing (I am yet to write a smut fic that i think i wrote well!) Hope you enjoy anyways <3

lance stroll masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

You and Lance had been inseparable since childhood, ever since that fateful day in kindergarten when his boundless energy collided with your unsuspecting form. As he barreled into you with the force of a tiny tornado, you found yourself sprawled on the ground, tears welling in your eyes. But even in that moment of chaos, Lance's instinctive kindness shone through as he scrambled to lift you up with all the might his pint-sized arms could muster.

"Sorry," he blurted out, his voice tinged with genuine concern.

With a sniffle and a shaky nod, you forgave him, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. His infectious grin, inherited from his mother's insistence that it could brighten anyone's day, worked its magic once again as you found yourself mirroring his smile. From that day forward, a bond was forged between you two that would withstand the tests of time and tide.

In the present moment, he found himself thousands of miles away in Australia, while you remained in Canada. Alone in the confines of his hotel room, he sat on the edge of the bed, consumed by thoughts of you that strayed far from the innocent memories of childhood. With a conflicted mind and a restless urge, he grasped his cock in his hand, indulging in fantasies that danced on the edge of forbidden desire.

If only you knew the depths of his depraved thoughts, he reasoned, you might recoil in horror or sever ties altogether. But in that solitary moment, consumed by the need for release before the impending race, such considerations faded into insignificance. He whispered your name like a forbidden prayer, his imagination weaving a tapestry of carnal delights where your bodies entwined in passion, where your desires ignited a flame that threatened to consume them both.

As he surrendered to the waves of pleasure crashing over him, he couldn't help but yearn for your presence, for the touch of your skin against his, for the possibility that you might reciprocate the intensity of his longing. In the darkness of his solitude, he dared to dream of a world where your desires aligned, where the boundaries between friendship and something more blurred into obscurity. But for now, all he could do was chase the fleeting ecstasy of release, his fantasies a bittersweet reminder of the distance between them and the unspoken truths that lingered in the silence.

Unbeknownst to him, the object of his affection stood mere inches from his hotel door, her heart thrumming with anticipation as she prepared to surprise her closest friend.

"Lance~" Your cheerful voice called through the door, sending Lance into a whirlwind of panic. Why were you here? When had you arrived? And most importantly, where on earth were his pants!? With a frantic scramble, he attempted to cover himself, his heart racing with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

As you swiped the card and entered the room, Lance's eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn't believe you were here, standing before him in the flesh. But before he could gather his wits or even properly greet you, your exclamation filled the room, cutting through the air like a knife.

You couldn't help but yelp in surprise as you laid eyes on him. There he stood, with his messy hair tousled in disarray, a rosy flush painting his cheeks, and no shirt to conceal the sculpted contours of his chest. Beneath the sheets that draped over his lower half, there was an air of tantalising mystery, hinting at the forbidden pleasures that lay hidden from view. Thankfully he had found his boxers before you had walked in.

Caught off guard by the unexpected sight, you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks as your heart raced with a mixture of shock and embarrassment. It was a moment frozen in time, etched into your memory with vivid clarity, leaving you breathless and at a loss for words.

You stuttered out a few words, your voice wavering with uncertainty as you struggled to make sense of the unexpected scene before you. "Is this a bad time... I can leave," you managed to murmur, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"No!" His response was swift, almost desperate, as if the mere thought of you leaving sent a jolt of panic coursing through him. He hesitated for a moment, the realisation of his own desperation dawning on him, before quickly composing himself. But deep down, he couldn't deny the truth: he was desperate for you, in more ways than one.

You stared at him, your eyes wide with surprise and uncertainty, unsure of how to proceed in this newfound tension. "N- Not a bad time... uhm..." he stammered, his words trailing off into an awkward silence as he searched for the right thing to say.

As the tension hung heavy in the air, a palpable electricity crackling between you, Lance's heart pounded with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. In that charged moment, he couldn't deny the raw attraction that pulsed between them, igniting a fire that threatened to consume them both.

With a hesitant step forward, he closed the distance between you, his gaze locking with yours in a silent plea for understanding. "I... I want you here," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with desire and longing.

Your breath caught in your throat at his admission, your own desires laid bare in the vulnerable space between you. In a bold move, you closed the remaining gap between you, your fingers trembling as they reached out to touch his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

With a shared moment of unspoken consent, the floodgates of desire burst open, consuming them both in a whirlwind of passion and need. Lips met in a searing kiss, hungry and desperate, as years of unspoken longing erupted into a frenzy of desire.

Lost in the heat of the moment, Lance's hands roamed eagerly over your body, tracing every curve and contour as if committing them to memory. With each touch, each caress, the world fell away until there was only the two of you, lost in the throes of passion.

As the intensity of their desire reached its peak, they surrendered to the undeniable pull of their bodies, consumed by a hunger that could only be sated by each other. In that moment of blissful surrender, they knew that they had found something truly special, something worth fighting for amidst the chaos of their tangled emotions.

His movements were urgent, fueled by a hunger that threatened to consume them both as he pushed you gently onto the bed, his lips trailing a path of fire down your trembling body. Each kiss left a trail of tingling heat in its wake, igniting a blaze of desire that pulsed between you.

Reaching your legs, he knelt between your thighs, his breath catching in his throat at the sight beneath the dress you had worn just for him. His eyes drank in the sight of your exposed skin, the tantalising curve of your hips, and the promise of what lay hidden beneath.

"Fuck..." he mumbled, his voice husky with desire as he took in the sight before him. The realisation that you wore no underwear beneath the dress sent a surge of heat coursing through him, his heart pounding with anticipation.

His fingers trembled with longing as he reached for the hem of your dress, his touch gentle yet urgent as he pulled the fabric slowly upwards, revealing more of your intoxicating form with each passing moment. As the dress pooled around your waist, leaving you bare and vulnerable beneath him, he felt a primal need stir within him, urging him onward.

You could only moan in response, lost in a haze of pleasure and desire as his lips continued their journey, leaving a trail of kisses along your inner thighs. Your words dissolved into incoherent babbling, your mind consumed by the overwhelming sensations that pulsed through your body with each touch, each caress.

Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine this moment would come to fruition, yet it consumed your every waking thought, an unrelenting desire that pulsed through your veins with a fierce intensity.

As he pushed his fingers into you, the sensation sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, igniting a fire that burned with an intensity you had never known. With each skilled movement, he found the perfect spot, sending sparks of ecstasy dancing along your nerve endings.

His mouth followed, hot and hungry against your skin, eliciting a guttural moan of pleasure from deep within your throat. The sound echoed off the walls of the room, mingling with curses and cries of ecstasy as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming tide of sensation.

He pulled two earth-shattering orgasms from you with his skilled touch before finally entering you, the culmination of desire and passion reaching its peak. Position after position, they explored the depths of pleasure together, lost in a whirlwind of sensation and ecstasy that seemed to stretch into eternity.

For almost an hour, they moved as one, bodies entwined in a dance of primal desire. With each thrust, his dick found its mark, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you with every movement. It was a symphony of sensation, a crescendo of pleasure that built with each passing moment.

Despite his best efforts to prolong the inevitable, he could only resist for so long before the overwhelming tide of pleasure threatened to consume him. With a primal groan of ecstasy, he pulled out at the last moment, spilling his release over you in a cascade of pure bliss.

In the aftermath of their passionate encounter, they lay entwined in a tangle of limbs, their bodies still humming with the echoes of pleasure. With gentle caresses and soft whispers, they reassured each other of their mutual affection, basking in the warmth of their shared intimacy.

As they lay together in the quiet aftermath of their lovemaking, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, unspoken words lingering on the tip of their tongues. Lance shifted slightly, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns along your arm as he mustered the courage to broach the subject that had been weighing on his mind.

"Hey," he began softly, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty, "can we talk about... us?"

You turned to him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and warmth. "Of course," you replied, your heart fluttering with anticipation.

"I... I know we've always been friends," Lance started, his words hesitant as he struggled to articulate his feelings. "But after tonight, I can't help but wonder if there's something more between us."

Your breath caught in your throat at his confession, the air crackling with tension as you searched for the right words to respond. "I've thought about it too," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "What we have... it feels different now, doesn't it?"

Lance nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, it does," he agreed, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "And I don't want to risk losing what we have, but... I can't shake the feeling that there's something special between us."

You reached out, intertwining your fingers with his in a silent gesture of solidarity. "I feel it too," you confessed, your heart swelling with emotion. "And maybe... maybe we owe it to ourselves to see where this could go."

Lance's smile widened, a flicker of hope dancing in his eyes. "I'd like that," he replied, his voice filled with conviction. "To us, whatever that may be."

"To us," you echoed, a surge of excitement coursing through you as you leaned in to press a tender kiss to his lips. In that moment, you both knew that whatever the future held, you were in it together, bound by the unbreakable bond of friendship and the tantalising promise of something more.

el fin.

Hope the smut was good. I tried not to use cringe words, key word tried. anyway. probably gonna have 2-3 fics out today :)

[yan-critter]

Hello!!! I just read your Childe fic and hhhoooooo boy that was a good one 😤😫🤩 if you have a moment could you perhaps write something for Blade from hsr?? If not that’s totally fine too!!!!! I love your writing btw 😊😊 have a nice day/night!!!

Hiya! It makes me really happy to hear that! I'm still pretty new to writing long smuts, so hopefully this wasn't too bad.

Enjoy!

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

Yan!Blade x GN!Reader (Smut, Light bondage, Oral, No gendered terms but reader is receiving)

Blade has always come off as cold, unapproachable, and generally lacking an interest. Both in life, and in people.

But now, lying arms bound on his bed with your legs tossed over his broad shoulders, you're not so sure.

In the dim lighting of his bedroom, Blade kneels before you, long hair brushing your skin as you watch the intense look in his eyes. The silk ties binding you rustle softly as he holds your ankles and approaches the space between your legs, stilted breathing echoing in the quiet room. His gaze fixated on the figure before him, bound and vulnerable, your body inviting as you wriggle in discomfort.

"Finally," he whispers, his voice straining with thinly-veiled lust. "You're mine. Now let me show you how good I can make you feel."

Your heart races as Blade draws closer, his presence suffocating yet.. strangely intoxicating. Fear mingled with a twisted sense of desire culminates in you as he wraps his hands around your thighs, slotting his head between them. It was clear how hard he was attempting to restrain himself, and it did nothing to soothe your nerves.

He dips his head, mouth latching onto you as he begins to lick and suck like an animal, groaning into your skin. You gasp, his slurping growing faster at your reaction. His mouth is skilled, practically glued to you as his tongue swirls around your most sensitive parts.

Giving an especially hard suck, you throw your head back, drool beginning to slip from the corner of your mouth as your legs shake. He pulls away to catch his breath, looking up at your disheveled self with a coy smile, clearly proud.

"I've watched you from afar, yearning for this moment," he confesses, his words dripping with fervent devotion. "You're the only one who truly understands me, who sees beyond the facade I wear for the world."

Before you can question what he meant by that, his tongue is on you again, taking a much more decisive rhythm as he sets his mind on making you come for him.

‘If you come, it means you love him’

Your legs begin to seize at the sudden onslaught, and his ravenous pace has you barreling towards you breaking point faster than ever. He's bucking into the mattress, and he nearly comes as your thighs begin to squeeze around his head, pulling him close.

He releases one of your legs in favor of sliding a thick finger into your heat, curling and rubbing at your walls in a way that has you brainless. You don't think you can take much more, pulling your free leg back to push at him, but it doesn't seem like he even noticed, and the building heat in your belly has your legs weak.

It isn't long before he finds that bundle of nerves that makes you see stars, and he merciless, abusing it until your vision goes white. You whine, body arching into his face and legs going ramrod straight as you come into his mouth. And by the way he moans, you can tell he came too.

“You did so well for me, I’m so glad.” He pants, a delirious look on his face as he wipes remnants of you off of his chin.

“You're so cute it's unfair. I want to keep you forever.”

You shiver, feeling the weight of his words like chains tightening around your soul. His love was suffocating, something dark that promised both ecstasy and agony in equal measure. You’re not sure if you like that.

"I'll protect you from anyone who dares to come between us," he vows, his grip on your bruised waist tightening as if to emphasize his point. "You'll never have to fear again, as long as you're by my side."

But as Blade poured his heart out, a chilling realization settled over you like a shroud. You’re a captive, not his lover, imprisoned by the very person who claimed to adore you.

In his twisted mind, love and possession were one and the same, and you were unfortunate enough to be the one to find out. As you gaze into his eyes, you see the depths of his madness, poorly hidden by his so-called love, a darkness that threatened to consume you whole.

Trapped in Blade's home, you wonder if you’ll ever find happiness in the confines of your cage.

And as he laves hot kisses along your sternum, you don't know how you ever considered the man anything but absolutely lovesick.

[ashessonfire]

FIRST KISS WITH KAZ!!! Maybe through fabric or just working through his touch aversion to get there

'Need' - Kaz Brekker x reader

Prompt - An overview of the relationship which brings the Bastard of the Barrel's hardened walls crashing down. But how long will it take for him to show his true longing for you? - Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader(gender neutral) - Warnings: Mentions of Kaz's trauma but nothing too detailed, just Kaz being desperate to be with you :) - A/N: Thank you so much for requesting anon! I hope this is okay, its my first fic ever so please leave any criticism or improvements you may have. also please let me know if we like this style of writing <33 PLEASE REQUEST!!

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Kaz had many things he wanted. Kruge, power, and revenge were among his most desired, however there was only one thing that he slowly began to realize he truly needed.

You.

After a long period of brushed hands and stolen glances, the Bastard of the Barrel had finally confessed his fondness for you, planting the seed of a rough but beautiful love. Even before the possibility of a true relationship bloomed, you knew that any form of intimacy was a weakness for Kaz, and an opportunity for his enemies to strike.

In order to counter this, you and Kaz spent endless hours breaking down his barriers within the confines of his room at the slat, and on occasion the office at the crow club. It began with small acts of service, bring Kaz tea when he was working too long, him bringing small gifts back from the market, even exchanged notes of gratitude or compliments.

As Kaz began to remove his armour, he reluctantly allowed you closer and closer, until the two of you began to work on his undeniable fear of physical contact.

It started off slowly and rarely, with his gloves still permanently clinging to his scarred hands as he adjusted to touching your arm or hand through several layers of material. Each attempt left Kaz with a bubbling feeling in his chest as if he was longing for something he couldn’t quite place, although he pushed down any thought of needing you more than he already did.

Each gentle smile, kind touch, or loving word chipped his armour more, growing the intensity of the feeling within his chest. A need for you.

This feeling buried itself deep within Kaz’s heart, growing in intensity each time he saw you, and consuming him completely if he ever saw you in the embrace of another.

Kaz trusted you fully, at least to his personal limit, having been raised by a city full of deception and misfortune himself. As a result, he would never blame you for seeking comfort in the touch of others despite your relationship, he knew it was cruel to deny you this, and was confident in your loyalty and love for him.

Yet his heart and mind found it easy to experience a taste of bitterness towards whoever was fortunate enough to be graced with a swift hug or gentle touch from you, often being another of his crows.

Deep down he knew it was immature of him to have something as low as jealousy completely overtake him, but each touch they received sent daggers flying directly through his chest, lodging themselves deeply into his already aching heart.

The boiling jealousy would be quickly dispelled as you made your way over to him, brushing your fingers over his gloved ones and smiling softly at the clearly frustrated boy.

As time went on, the touch Kaz’s body could allow increased, both in receiving and giving. Words of praise besides the touch aided in the rocky yet manageable journey, however eye contact was easily the most efficient way of communicating what both lovers meant.

To most throughout the barrel, a quick glance from the infamous Dregs leader is enough to set even the fiercest gang member’s blood racing, chilling their insides simultaneously with its razor-like edge.

Yet somehow, after studying your beautiful bosses face for long enough, you cracked the code on his impenetrable gaze, soon being able to decipher even the smallest slips of emotion through a twitch or a shift in his glare. Kaz often contemplated how you managed to read him so efficiently, settling on you perhaps using one of his own lock-picking techniques to unravel his emotions and ultimately, his heart.

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As a result of this skill, you were immediately able to sense a change in Kaz’s stance and mood as you gently shut the door to his office behind you and made your way over to his desk. “I brought you tea my love,” you quietly said, not wanting to provoke the clearly tense man in front of you.

Frequently Kaz would be in difficult moods after jobs, his mind buzzing with adrenaline and further plans for more tasks he needed to instantly begin planning. As you broke down his barriers, you managed to reduce this urgency, always gaining at least an hour or two to help him; bringing him tea, running him hot water to wash with, finding new books to discuss and read together, or even just admiring the city from the rooftops.

However this was different, the job was supposedly simple, but every aspect had gone awry and almost cost multiple dregs their lives. After complicated missions such as these, you knew Kaz needed space to breath, with a single glance in your direction a clear indicator of whether your presence was needed or not in that moment (however he always called for you as soon as he was able).

Tension radiated through the air, and although you weren’t afraid of his tempers like the others, you were feeling uneasy at your own inability to read what was crossing his mind. His shoulders were hunched as he slowly lifted his blistering gaze to meet yours, lacking the usual softness they held only for you, yet not containing any hostility.

He huffed out a sigh, stormy eyes locked on yours, thoughts racing inside, but not translating to his eyes, your only window into his troublesome mind. “I don’t know what to do” he finally muttered as you patiently waited for him to formulate his words.

After many hours spent with him, you had learnt how strenuous verbal communication was for him, and how often he just needed time to articulate his answers and force them out into the open. So, as he settled back into the silence of the office, you shifted the chair opposite to his and made yourself comfortable, allowing him to calm his raging thoughts with your familiar presence.

“Its too much. Each time we leave and come back it grips me, tighter and tighter,” he stumbles out, forcing the sounds of each word out of his mouth as if he is battling with his mind to allow them to be heard. Despite your lack of context, you gave a soft reassuring smile, nodding towards him and taking a sip of your tea to allow him a moment to breathe and continue.

“On jobs, or at the club, I can’t escape it,” he states breathlessly, before continuing, “How is it possible to need something so badly, yet my greatest need is the one thing I cannot truly have?” immediately signalling that this must be about his feeling of imprisonment his body forces upon him.

He slowly rose from his seat, limping towards you with a strong air of determination, eyes glued to yours as you scanned him in a failed attempt to decode his actions. You gazed up as he loomed over you, planting himself only a few feet away, the proximity making a beautiful warmth spread through your chest at his comfortability with you.

“I know I cannot give you what you need. You reassure me, yet I know it is not enough to live behind walls, barriers, defences.” He states, voice shaking at the end of each cadence, showing an impressive amount of bravery to admit his deepest concerns to you. He continued, “But I cannot live that way either,” his face leaning closer to yours, your breath suddenly hitching in your throat, cheeks glowing with a rosy flush.

“It’s too much, knowing I cannot have you in the way that you deserve. That…” he trails off, face shifting closer to yours with each word, inch by inch breaking down both of your defences. After swallowing thickly and regaining himself, he continues “That I want.”

By now his breath sends warm ripples across your skin, rendering you speechless at Kaz’s ability to fight his demons, striking them down for just enough time to reach you, even for a moment.

“But I know what I want, and I will be damned if anything stops me from getting it,” he demands, dangerously low, conflicting with the vulnerability displaying in his eyes, showing his internal conflict as he pushes his boundaries to the limit, leaving you certain the waters are chest high by now. However, his next action dispels any thoughts you had before, rendering you stunned.

“I want you,” he whispers before crashing his lips against yours.

Although it couldn’t have lasted longer than 3 seconds, the bliss that overwhelmed the pair of you was astounding, pure love radiating between you without the waters washing away the moment. Shortly after, the ocean regained its grip, forcing him to stumble back a good few feet, shaking violently and gripping the desk for support.

What surprised you the most was his expression.

He wore the faintest, yet most heartfelt smile you had ever seen grace his lips, filled with pride at his victory and ability to not only communicate, but finally act on his desires.

Your eyes pricked with tears as the emotions overcame you, your chest filling to the brim with love for the man, however you knew better than to stay any longer and prolong the inevitable current that was already overwhelming him. You stood quietly, slowly removing your jacket and placing it neatly on the table, eyes permanently glued to Kaz to ensure you remained a suitable distance.

He shakily nodded his head in thanks, breathing becoming shallower as he attempted to regain a sense of rhythm, grabbing the coat and waveringly making his way around his desk.

Early in the process of unravelling his fear of touch, you discovered that he found great solace in items of yours, especially for the times when he couldn’t convince his own mind that you were warm and present, not like the frigid bodies that plagued him. They gave him a piece of yourself to grasp onto when your physical presence was too much.

It shattered your heart into splinters at the idea of leaving him in this state, but you knew it was what he needed, and the certainty that within an hour or two he would be calling for your presence brought a sense of calm over you.

As you reached to lightly close the door, you looked up to find him staring at you through his trembling state, a triumphant look still faintly glittering in his eyes. You sent him a comforting smile, tears creating a glassy sheen over your eyes, illuminated by the candlelit office.

“I’m proud of you Kaz. So proud, more than you could ever know. I’ll see you later my love,” you breathed, loud enough for him to hear.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you shut the door, as the pride, pain, and love overwhelmed your senses. A lone tear slipped as you descended the stairs to process the night’s event, which unbeknownst to you, mirrored the boy sat in his office.

Kaz also shed a single tear amongst the panic his body forced upon him, however instead of the pure pain, grief, and dread that usually fell, a strong sense of victory escaped with that tear too.

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[oskea93]

Kansas Anymore: Drabble #1

Tyler Owens x OC

Summary: In which Riley Owens, the ex-wife of the infamous Tornado Wrangler, has 36 hours to come to terms if moving to a whole new country with their small daughter is something she truly wants to do.

Warnings: Cursing, angst

✶ Chapter One ✶ Chapter Two ✶

■ Italics = Flashback

■ A/N: So this is just a little outtake update. These drabbles will be focused in the past and will spill the tea on Tyler and Riley's relationship - good and bad. I am gonna start writing chapter three in the coming days so be on the lookout for that... And I may have another fic on the brain... Stay tuned ❤️

■ Taglist is available - just drop a comment! Would love to hear your thoughts, questions, or maybe just drop by to say hello! Can’t wait to hear from y'all

TL:  @ellesmythe  @18lkpeters @hookslove1592  @djs8891 @smoothdogsgirl @queenslandlover-93 @imjustamehbleh @love2write2626 @lt-jakeseresin @starcrossedtrek

@lauraseresin @axolotllover225 @kmc1989

“You can’t be serious right now!” My knuckles were white as my fingers curled tightly around the handle that sat above the window. “You’re gonna get us killed – fucking turn around!”

The car veered sharply around a corner, tires squealing against the asphalt. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing like a drum in my ears. The sky was pitch black, the only light coming from the dim glow of the dashboard and the constant flash of lightening high in the sky.

“Relax, I’ve got this!” Tyler’s voice was steady, but I could see the tension in his clenched jaw and the way his eyes darted to the rearview mirror as the funnel barreled closer.

“Relax? Are you kidding me?” I shouted over the roar of the engine. “We’re not in some action movie! You’re gonna get us both killed!”

He didn’t answer, just pressed harder on the gas pedal. The speedometer needle climbed higher, and I could feel the car vibrating with the effort. I glanced out the window, trees blurring into a dark smear as we raced past them.

“We can’t outrun a tornado, Tyler!” I yelled, the panic rising in my throat. “This is insane!”

Tyler glanced over, his hands reaching over, pulling the belt tighter across my chest. “Wanna bet?”

The wind howled outside, shaking the truck as if it were a toy. Debris flew past the windshield, some of it slamming against the car with loud thuds. I could barely see the road ahead; the rain was falling in sheets, and the wipers struggled to keep up.

“Tyler, please!” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it cracked with fear. “We need to find shelter, now!”

He ignored me, his eyes fixed on the road, his knuckles as white as mine on the steering wheel. The car hit a pothole, and we were jolted violently, my head smacking against the window despite the seatbelt. Pain shot through my skull, and I tasted blood.

“Damn it, Tyler!” I screamed, tears blurring my vision. “This isn’t worth it!”

In the distance, I could see the tornado’s massive funnel, an ominous silhouette against the flashes of lightning. It was like a monstrous black snake, twisting and writhing, consuming everything in its path. The sound was deafening, a constant roar that drowned out even our screaming.

“God dammit, Riley!” Tyler yelled. “I fucking got this!”

But the tornado was gaining on us, its monstrous form growing larger and more terrifying by the second. The air pressure dropped, my ears popping painfully. The car swerved again, narrowly missing a fallen tree branch.

“Tyler, we’re not gonna make it!” I sobbed, clutching the handle above the window as if it were a lifeline. My mind raced, picturing the car being lifted and tossed like a rag doll, the metal crumpling, the glass shattering. This couldn’t be how it ended.

With a final, desperate glance at the rearview mirror, Tyler seemed to make a decision. He yanked the wheel to the right, sending us skidding off the road and into a muddy field. The tires spun, struggling for traction, but Tyler kept the pedal to the metal, urging the car forward.

There wasn’t a house in sight – just an open field. I kept my eyes trained on the scene in front of us, glancing every other second to see how Tyler was reacting. His once cool and calm façade was now replaced by worry and fear – feelings that the so-called tornado wrangler never dared to show.

The car's headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the swirling chaos of wind and rain. The tornado’s monstrous form was a dark shadow against the flashes of lightning, growing larger and more menacing by the second. The air pressure dropped even further, making it hard to breathe, my ears popping painfully.

“Tyler, what are we going to do?” I cried, my voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. “There’s no place to hide!”

Tyler’s eyes darted around, searching for any sign of shelter, but the field stretched endlessly in every direction, offering no refuge. The car hit another bump, and I was thrown against the door, my heart racing faster than ever.

“Just hold on, Riley!” Tyler shouted; his voice tinged with desperation. The tires struggled to find traction in the muddy ground, the car fishtailing wildly.

I wasn’t the praying type – never having grown up going to church and all that, but at that moment I was desperate. “Please God – please God.” I whispered the words like a mantra, hoping some higher power would hear me, even if I had never believed before.

The wind howled around us, the noise deafening, as debris began to pelt the car. The windows rattled, threatening to shatter. The car lurched as it hit another rut, and I could hear Tyler cursing under his breath, fighting to keep control.

“Look!” Tyler yelled, pointing ahead. Through the sheets of rain, I could make out the faint outline of a small bridge, its weathered wood barely standing against the storm.

Tyler didn’t hesitate. He gunned the engine, aiming straight for the structure. The car bounced and jostled over the uneven ground, the structure growing larger and larger in our view. As we neared, Tyler slammed on the brakes, sending the car skidding to a halt against the side of the bridge. Without a word, we both threw open our doors and ran for cover, the wind nearly knocking us off our feet.

“Hold onto that pile!” Tyler’s voice was barely heard over the roar of the wind as I wrapped my arms around the wooden fixture. Tyler’s body hovered over mine as the rain pelted us sideways, mud and debris hitting us as the tornado approached. The red truck that Tyler treasured began to be pulled away only to be slammed back into the side of the bridge, my screams being overshadowed by the wind as nature’s force laid upon us. The wooden planks shuddered as the rusty nails began to give way, ripping off the top.

The bridge groaned and creaked, the old wood and metal straining under the sheer force of the tornado. Splinters flew through the air like missiles, and I pressed my face against the wooden pile, trying to shield myself from the onslaught. Tyler’s grip on me tightened, his body a protective barrier against the fury outside.

“We’re going to make it!” Tyler shouted, though his voice was filled with equal parts determination and fear. I held onto his words like a lifeline, my heart pounding in my chest.

The wind howled louder, and I could feel the bridge lifting slightly beneath us, threatening to be torn from its foundations. My mind raced with images of us being flung into the storm, the bridge collapsing, and Tyler’s truck being swallowed by the tornado. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for the nightmare to end.

The noise was deafening, a relentless cacophony of wind, rain, and destruction. I felt like I was being pulled in every direction, the tornado’s force almost too much to bear. But Tyler’s presence kept me grounded, his unwavering strength giving me hope.

“Just a little longer!” Tyler yelled, his voice barely audible over the storm. “It’s almost over!”

A loud crack echoed through the air as one of the bridge’s support beams snapped, the structure shuddering violently. I tightened my grip on the pile, my knuckles white with the effort. The wind seemed to intensify, and I could feel my body being lifted slightly off the ground, the pull of the tornado almost irresistible.

And then, as suddenly as it began, the wind started to die down. The roar of the tornado faded, replaced by the steady patter of rain and the distant rumble of thunder. The pressure around us eased, and I dared to open my eyes.

The bridge was still standing, though barely. The top was partially ripped off, and debris was scattered everywhere, but we were alive. Tyler loosened his hold on me, glancing around to assess the damage.

“I think it’s moving away,” he said, his voice filled with cautious relief.

My eyes moved around, my body still shaking as tears started to prick against my eyes. The bridge was a tattered mess but for some reason we were still here – still alive. “You okay, baby?” Tyler’s hand caressed my arm, turning me to face him as he checked for any visible injuries. “Looks like everyth-“

“You stupid fucking asshole!” His body fell back at the force of my push.

Tyler's eyes widened in shock as he stumbled back, trying to comprehend the sudden shift in my demeanor. “What the hell, Riley!”

I could feel the anger boiling inside me, a mixture of fear, relief, and frustration. "You almost got us killed, Tyler! What were you thinking, driving straight into the storm like that?"

His eyes stayed connected with mine, searching for the right words but knowing they would still be wrong in my view. “Baby—” He sighed. “It’s a part of the job – tornadoes are my job.”

I stared at him, incredulous. "Your job? Your job is to drag me into life-and-death situations without even a warning? Without any regard for our safety?"

Tyler ran a hand through his hair, his face a mix of guilt and defensiveness. "I didn't expect it to get this bad. I thought we could get through it like we always do."

"Like we always do?" I echoed, my voice rising. "This isn't some routine storm chase, Tyler. This was a goddamn tornado! I could have died out there! We both could have!"

He took a step closer, his expression softening. "Riley, I know you're scared. I was scared too. But this is what I do. I study storms, I chase them. I can't just sit on the sidelines."

"But why drag me into it?" I asked, tears welling up in my eyes. "I didn't sign up for this."

Tyler took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving mine. "Because I need you with me. You're my anchor, Riley. You keep me grounded. I thought... I thought having you there would make it easier."

I shook my head, the tears spilling over. "It's not easier, Tyler. It's terrifying. I can't go through that again."

He stayed silent for a moment, “Would this be a bad time to ask you to marry me?”

My head jerking up, meeting his gaze, “What?”

I watched as he slowly reached into his denim pocket, pulling out the diamond ring. “I’ve had it in my pocket for about a week now – lost the damn box – almost lost the fucking ring a time or two.”

The tension in the air was palpable as Tyler revealed the ring. Despite the fear and adrenaline coursing through me from the storm, my heart skipped a beat. His eyes were earnest, filled with a mix of hope and apprehension.

"Riley," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "I know this isn't the most romantic proposal, and I know I've put you through hell. But I love you. I want to spend my life with you, chasing storms or not."

I stared at the ring, sparkling even under the dim light, and then back at Tyler. The weight of the moment pressed down on me, the reality of our dangerous lives juxtaposed with the promise of a future together. It was as if the storm outside mirrored the turmoil within me.

"Tyler," I whispered, my voice breaking. "This is crazy. You’re crazy."

He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "Maybe I am. But I’m crazy about you, Riley."

A laugh bubbled up, mingling with my tears. Despite everything, despite the fear and the chaos, there was love. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

I took a deep breath, my hand reaching out to touch the ring. "Yes," I said, my voice steadying. "Yes, I'll marry you."

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Tyler's face lit up with joy, and he slipped the ring onto my finger. It felt strange, comforting and surreal all at once. But in that instant, surrounded by the remnants of the storm, it felt right.

Tyler pulled me into an embrace, holding me tight as if he was afraid to let go. I could feel his heart pounding against mine, a rhythm that matched my own. The storm outside seemed to quiet, as if acknowledging the significance of our moment.

"I promise," Tyler murmured into my hair, "I'll do everything I can to keep you safe. I know it's dangerous out there, but I can't imagine facing it without you."

[crappymixtape]

🌾 tyler owens masterlist

hi, lovely. welcome to my tyler owens masterlist! everything is organized below, so please browse the shelves and find what you're looking for. if you can't find it, please don't hesitate to message me or search by tag ( i've tagged it all accordingly by content: smut, fluff, angst, etc – and length: series or not, etc ) ���️ kate

( LONGER / SERIALIZED OR MULTI–PART FICS, NOTED IF COMPLETE OR IN–PROGRESS, STEVE x YOU // mature content marked appropriately )

🌪 HANG ON TIGHT, BABY – IN-PROGRESS ( potential for more! ) main fic -> ( part 1 ) ( part 2 ) ( part 3 )

favored to win in barrel racing for the upcoming rodeo, you’re out in the corral practicing when your obnoxious neighbor, tyler owens, swings by to say hi, but when the wind picks up you both won’t have a choice but to trust each other • 18+  | ( 3.0k – TW: natural disasters, tornado, injuries • witty banter as foreplay, fluff in their own way, enemies to idiots in love, tyler owens x reader )

( SMALLER, ONE-SHOTS / BLURBS / REQUESTS / HEAD CANONS, STEVE x YOU // mature content marked appropriately )

TO COME !

[pascalispimp]

Through the Ashes

Pairing: Joel miller x reader

Summary: In a world ravaged by loss and survival, Joel Miller has long believed that love is a luxury he can no longer afford. Haunted by his past and driven by the need to protect those he cares about, his heart is as guarded as the walls around the small community of Jackson. But when Birdie, a former Firefly with a mysterious connection to Ellie, arrives in Jackson, Joel’s world is turned upside down.

Warnings for series: some angst with happy ending. Mutual pining. Eventual smut. Unspecified age gap. Takes places after TLOU season 1. Not canon to game ending. Joel will get his happy ending. Jealous!Joel. Protective!Joel. Canon typical violence.

Word count: 3k

** Masterlist **

Hi guys, this is my first fic in a very long time so please be kind. I’m posting the first chapter and if you guy’s enjoy it, let me know and I’ll post more. Would love to hear everyone’s thoughts on it!! Character doesn’t have a name but everyone calls her Birdie because of the Mockingbird tattoo on her arm.

Chapter 1- The First Meeting

The snow fell steadily outside the cabin, the wind howling through the gaps in the wooden walls. Joel was in the middle of cleaning his rifle, the rhythmic scrape of the brush against the metal barrel soothing in its familiarity. Jackson was quiet today—too quiet, for Joel’s taste—but then again, it was the dead of winter. The few settlers who ventured out for patrols returned with little to report, just the bitter cold biting at their heels.

A knock at the door broke his concentration, sharp and unexpected. Joel frowned, setting the rifle down carefully on the table. Not many people came to his cabin unannounced, especially in weather like this.

“Who is it?” Joel called out, his voice rough, as he crossed the small room to the door.

“It’s me, Tommy,” came the muffled reply from the other side.

Joel unlocked the door and pulled it open, the cold air rushing in as he did. Tommy stood on the porch, bundled up in his thick coat, but it wasn’t Tommy who drew Joel’s attention. It was the woman standing next to him.

“Joel, I’d like you to meet someone,” Tommy said, stepping aside slightly. “This is” Tommy said, your name escaping his lips. “But I call her Birdie”

Her name struck a chord in Joel’s memory, and he realized why as soon as he looked into her eyes. Those eyes—so familiar, so much like Ellie’s, but older, more weathered by the world.

She stepped forward, pulling the scarf away from her face. Her features were sharp, angular, with a stubborn chin and eyes that had seen too much. Her long hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face. There was something fierce about her, a hardness that reminded Joel of the survivors he’d met on the road, but there was also a sadness that softened her.

Joel repeated her name, his voice carefully neutral.

“She’s Ellie’s aunt,” Tommy said, glancing between them. “Her mom’s younger sister.”

Birdie gave a small, curt nod. “I’ve been looking for her—for years. Since Boston.”

Joel’s mind raced, trying to piece together what he knew of Anna, Ellie’s mother, and what she might have told him about family. But there had been little to go on. Anna had been a Firefly, just like Birdie apparently was—or had been.

“You’re a Firefly,” Joel said, the words coming out like an accusation.

Birdie’s expression tightened, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I was. Not anymore. That was… a long time ago.”

Tommy cleared his throat, sensing the tension between them. “Birdie’s been on the road for a while. Just got back here yesterday, actually after travelling back to Boston”

Joel nodded slowly, though his eyes never left Birdie’s. He could see the exhaustion in her, the weight of whatever she had endured in her search for Ellie. There was a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken questions. Why now? Why here?

“Ellie doesn’t know yet,” Birdie said quietly, as if reading his mind. “I haven’t figured out how to tell her. I needed to see her first… to make sure she’s okay.”

“She’s fine,” Joel said, a bit too quickly, the protective edge in his voice undeniable. “She doesn’t need—”

“I’m not here to take her from you,” Birdie interrupted, her tone sharp, but not unkind. “I’m here because she’s all I have left.”

The words hung in the air between them, and Joel found himself softening, just slightly. He knew what it was like to lose everything, to have only one thing left in the world to hold onto. It was a pain that twisted and festered, driving people to do impossible things.

Tommy shifted uncomfortably, glancing between the two. “Well, I’ll let you two talk. I need to check on Maria. Birdie, your place should be ready for you whenever you’re ready. Hasn’t been touched since you left.”

“Thank you, Tommy,” Birdie said, her eyes flicking to him before returning to Joel. “I appreciate it.”

Tommy gave them both a nod and then stepped off the porch, disappearing into the falling snow, leaving Joel and Birdie alone.

Joel stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in. “You might as well get out of the cold.”

Birdie hesitated for just a moment before stepping inside. The warmth of the cabin hit her, and she could feel the chill starting to seep out of her bones. She unwound the scarf from her neck and shrugged off her coat, hanging it on the rack by the door. As she did, Joel couldn’t help but notice how thin she looked, how worn.

“Sit,” Joel said gruffly, motioning to the chair by the fire. “I’ll get you something warm.”

Birdie moved toward the chair, her eyes taking in the cabin as she did—a small, simple space, but well-kept, with everything in its place. She sat down slowly, the firelight casting flickering shadows across her face.

Joel busied himself with the kettle, filling it with water and setting it over the fire. His hands worked automatically, but his mind was racing. This woman—Ellie’s aunt—what was her angle? What did she want?

“I’m not here to make things difficult,” Birdie said suddenly, as if sensing his doubts. “I know what you did for Ellie. Tommy told me… some of it.”

Joel turned, his expression guarded. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Maybe not,” Birdie admitted. “But I know enough to be grateful. Ellie’s lucky to have you.”

Joel said nothing, his eyes searching her face for any sign of deception. But all he saw was sincerity, mixed with a weariness that matched his own. She wasn’t here to cause trouble; she was here because she had nowhere else to go.

The kettle began to whistle, and Joel turned back to pour the water into two mugs. He handed one to Birdie, who accepted it with a nod of thanks.

“So,” Joel said, settling into the chair opposite her, “what’s your plan?”

Birdie took a sip of the tea, the warmth spreading through her chest. She looked at him, her gaze steady. “I don’t have one. I just want to be a part of Ellie’s life, if she’ll have me. And if you’ll let me.”

Joel studied her for a long moment, the fire crackling between them. Finally, he nodded, a silent truce forming between them.

“We’ll see,” he said, his voice low. “But know this—if you hurt her, if you bring any trouble here…”

“I won’t,” Birdie cut him off, her voice firm. “I swear it.”

Another silence fell between them, this one less heavy, more accepting. They were two people with jagged pasts, brought together by the same person they loved more than anything in this broken world.

And though neither of them could have known it then, that moment—born of mutual understanding and a shared need for connection—was the first step toward something neither of them had dared to hope for.

Something like love.

—-

The mid-afternoon sun bathed Jackson in a soft, golden light as Ellie stood on the porch of Joel’s cabin, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket. She glanced over at Joel, who was leaning against the wooden railing, his expression unreadable. He had been unusually quiet that day, and Ellie could sense the tension rolling off him in waves. Something was up, and it was putting her on edge.

“So… what’s this all about?” Ellie asked, her voice filled with cautious curiosity. She wasn’t used to Joel acting so cagey, and it made her uneasy.

Joel sighed, pushing himself off the railing and turning to face her. “There’s someone I want you to meet,” he said slowly, his eyes searching hers for a reaction. “Someone from your past.”

Ellie frowned, confused. She had already met everyone in Jackson who might have known her from before. Who could Joel be talking about? But before she could ask, the cabin door creaked open, and a woman stepped out onto the porch.

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of the woman standing before her. She was tall, with her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, and her eyes—her eyes were so familiar. Ellie couldn’t place why at first, but something about them tugged at the edges of her memory.

“Ellie,” Joel said, his voice gentle but firm, “this is Birdie. She’s your mom’s younger sister.”

Ellie’s heart skipped a beat as the realization hit her. *My aunt.* She had never known her mother’s family—Joel had only told her bits and pieces about Anna, but never anything about anyone else. The idea that she had an aunt, someone who had been out there looking for her, was overwhelming.

Birdie took a tentative step forward, her eyes filled with emotion. “Ellie,” she said softly, her voice trembling just slightly. “I’ve been looking for you for so long.”

Ellie stiffened, the mix of emotions swirling inside her too complicated to untangle. Part of her wanted to run, to push this stranger away, to keep her distance as she had learned to do with everyone except Joel. But another part of her—a part she hadn’t let herself feel in a long time—wanted to reach out, to grab hold of this connection to her mother that she had thought she’d lost forever.

“I… I don’t remember you,” Ellie admitted, her voice shaky, her eyes darting to Joel for reassurance.

She smiled sadly, a soft, understanding look in her eyes. “You were just a baby the last time I saw you,” she said. “We were separated in Boston when the Fireflies took you after Anna, after she passed. I tried to find you, but by the time I got back… you were gone.”

Ellie swallowed hard, trying to process the flood of information. She had always wondered about her past, about the people she had lost, but she had never expected this—never expected to have someone from that past suddenly standing in front of her, claiming to have been searching for her all these years.

“I know this is a lot,” Birdie continued, her voice soft and patient. “And I don’t expect you to remember me, but I brought something that might help.”

She reached into the bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out a small, worn photo album. It was old, the edges frayed, but it had clearly been well cared for. Birdie opened it carefully, flipping through the pages until she found what she was looking for. She held it out to Ellie, her hands trembling slightly.

Ellie hesitated for a moment, glancing up at Joel again. He nodded encouragingly, though she could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides. It wasn’t like Joel to be so tense around new people—especially not someone he had invited into their lives. But there was something in his eyes that told her this was important, that this was something she needed to do.

Ellie took the album from her, her fingers brushing against the worn leather cover. She looked down at the picture on the page, her breath catching in her throat. It was a photograph of a woman holding a small child—a baby with big, curious eyes and a tuft of dark hair. The woman was smiling, a bright, loving smile, and Ellie felt a pang of recognition deep in her chest.

“That’s you, and me. Not long before you were taken.” She said softly, pointing to the baby in the picture. “And that’s your mom, not long before you were born.”

Ellie’s fingers traced the edges of the photograph, her heart pounding. She had seen pictures of her mother before, but never like this—never with her. There was something so achingly familiar about the woman in the picture, something that made Ellie’s chest tighten with emotion.

“I… I remember this,” Ellie whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I remember you holding me like this.”

Birdie smiled, tears welling up in her eyes. “You were so small, but you were already so strong. Just like your mom.”

Ellie’s throat tightened as she looked at the other photos in the album—pictures of her as a baby, pictures of her mother and Birdie together, smiling and laughing, snapshots of a life she had lost and never thought she’d find again. The memories were faint, like trying to grasp at wisps of smoke, but they were there, and as she looked at each picture, they became clearer, more vivid.

Joel watched them from the side, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. He was happy for Ellie—truly, he was. Seeing her reconnect with a piece of her past, a piece of her mother, was something he had always wished for her. But at the same time, a pang of jealousy twisted in his gut, mingling with the protectiveness that had always been there, simmering just below the surface.

Birdie was Ellie’s blood, a living connection to her mother, and Joel knew that was something he could never be. He had tried his best to fill the role of father, of protector, but deep down, there was a fear—a fear that now that Ellie had someone else, someone from her past, she might need him less. The thought terrified him more than he could admit.

As Ellie continued to flip through the album, her eyes bright with a mix of wonder and sadness, Joel forced himself to push the jealousy aside, focusing instead on the way her face lit up with each new memory that surfaced. This was a good thing. He had to remind himself of that. She was here for Ellie, and that was what mattered.

“I can’t believe you kept these,” Ellie said, her voice trembling as she looked up at her, tears brimming in her eyes.

Birdie smiled, her own eyes wet. “I kept them for you. I knew that one day, I’d find you, and I wanted you to have something to remember her by.”

Ellie bit her lip, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Birdie reached out, hesitating for just a moment before gently placing her hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “I’m so glad I found you, Ellie. I’ve missed you so much.”

Ellie looked up at her, the walls she had built around herself slowly crumbling. She could see the truth in her eyes—the love, the longing, the pain of having been separated for so long. It was the same pain Ellie had carried with her for years, the same sense of loss that had haunted her. But now, for the first time, it felt like that loss was being filled, piece by piece.

“I’ve missed you too,” Ellie admitted, her voice small, but filled with a deep, raw honesty. “Even if I didn’t remember, I missed you.”

Birdie’s face broke into a tearful smile, and she pulled Ellie into a gentle hug, holding her close as if she was afraid to let go. Ellie stiffened for a moment, unaccustomed to the sudden show of affection, but then she relaxed into the embrace, allowing herself to feel the warmth of it, the connection she had been missing for so long.

Joel watched them, his chest tight with a mix of emotions. He was happy—so damn happy—to see Ellie finding this connection, but the pang of jealousy was still there, sharp and insistent. He knew it was irrational, knew that Ellie’s love for her didn’t diminish what they had, but it was hard to shake the fear that had taken root in his heart.

Ellie finally pulled back from the hug, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. She looked at Birdie, really looked at her, and for the first time, she saw the family resemblance—saw the way Birdie’s eyes mirrored her own, saw the way her smile reminded her of her mother.

“I want to know more,” Ellie said, her voice steadier now. “About her. About you.”

Birdie smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made Ellie feel like she was finally home. “I’ll tell you everything,” she promised. “Anything you want to know.”

Joel stepped forward, unable to stay on the sidelines any longer. He placed a hand on Ellie’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You two have a lot to catch up on,” he said, trying to keep his voice light, though the tension in his body betrayed him.

Ellie looked up at him, her expression softening. “You’re okay with this, right?” she asked, searching his face.

Joel nodded, forcing a smile. “Of course, kiddo. This is good. It’s what you need.”

Ellie studied him for a moment longer, sensing that something was off, but not quite able to place it. She reached up and covered his hand with hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re still my family, Joel. That’s never going to change.”

Joel’s heart swelled at her words, the jealousy easing just a little. He nodded, his throat too tight to speak, and gave her a small, grateful smile.

Birdie watched the exchange, understanding the depth of the bond between Joel and Ellie. She knew that Joel was protective of Ellie, that he had been her rock through everything, and she didn’t want to come between them. But she also knew that this was something Ellie needed, something that would help her heal.

“Joel,” She said gently, “thank you. For everything you’ve done for her. I can see how much she means to you.”

Joel met her gaze, and for a moment, there was an unspoken understanding between them—an acknowledgment of the roles they both played in Ellie’s life. Joel nodded, the tension in his chest easing just a bit more.

“She means everything to me,” Joel said quietly, his voice full of emotion.

Birdie smiled, her eyes soft with gratitude. “And now, she’s got both of us,” she said, her voice filled with hope.

Ellie looked between them, a small, tentative smile tugging at her lips. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she had a real family—one that stretched back to her past and carried her into the future. And as she stood there, between Joel and Birdie, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she could finally start to heal.

[imgeekgirlfan]

The Curse of Cassandra [EP : V]

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings:  Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader)  [The Acolyte]

Content waring: a lot of blood, mind manipulation, referenced violence and murder, mention of killing killing killing and also killing

tags/themes: Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary: Today is the last day of your life. That is what you have seen in your vision. You prepare yourself and accept the unchangeable fate, unaware that your destiny has already been altered. and you cannot predict what kind of fate awaits you ahead.

Status: work in progress (This is a long fanfic that will be about 10+ chapters.)

A/N: still bummed about The Acolyte being canceled and unsure if I should continue this fic. However, Thanks to everyone who’s followed along—this fandom is amazing, and I love you all.

➡  Intro // EP : I // EP : II // EP : III // EP : IV // EP : VI // EP : VII

[Episodes 5] When you have lived with prophecy for so long, the moment of revelation is a shock.

Everything happens for a reason.

Your mother once taught you this, speaking of how fate works from the perspective of a seer.

The words suddenly come to mind again as you follow Qimir up onto the Fallon, the ship hidden in the darkness of Tatooine's vast desert—your home planet.

"The desert is your home and your tomb," you murmur absently. A sudden realization dawns in your consciousness. It’s happening, you think with dread, your pulse racing erratically. You’ve seen this scene a hundred times before, yet it still feels surreal as it unfolds before your eyes.

Four months—precisely. No more, no less. This is the exact time Qimir has to deliver you to his employer, as stipulated in the contract.

And it might just be the last stretch of your life, along with everyone else on this ship.

A new alertness grows rapidly within you as you step forward into the unfamiliar cargo ship.  Everything is pristine, modern, and expensive. The air inside is cool, courtesy of the automated climate control system, yet you feel anything but comfortable. Partly because of the thick, heavy metal cuffs clamping down on your wrists, and partly because of the piercing gazes of the three guards, who look identical in their matching gray uniforms. They follow close behind, laser guns in hand, watching your every step without blinking. If you make even the slightest suspicious move, they won't hesitate to shoot you down instantly.

For a brief moment, your mind retreats into a temporary calm—a sense of resigned acceptance of a fate that can no longer be altered.

You shift your focus to the figure ahead—the tall, familiar man walking a short distance away. Qimir’s expression is as unreadable as a statue, devoid of any emotion. You can’t tell what he’s feeling at this moment. Perhaps he’s relieved, finally rid of the burden that is you.

A soft, cynical laugh escapes your lips. You can’t help but pity yourself.

So this is your reward for saving his life. In the end, he still sells you out for the bounty.

Before you could take another step, Qimir suddenly halted, causing you to stop as well. He turns to face you as if he had known you were watching him all along. It seems like he wants to say something, but the words never come. So, you decide to speak first.

"I should have left you to rot there," you say. The words sound harsh, but your tone lacks any trace of resentment.

A part of you wants to be angry at Qimir, but you know you deserve to be angrier at yourself. Who else could you blame? You chose this path willingly. It was your own weakness, your own foolish attachment, that led you to this pitiful end.

You notice Qimir's brow furrow, a look of surprise on his face, but you have no chance to hear his response as the barrel of a gun presses hard into your back, forcing you to move in another direction. The guard behind you roughly pushes you forward, guiding you toward the ship's holding cells, where you will await whatever fate has in store for you next.

Before you are taken away, you glance back at Qimir one last time. That was when you caught sight of the person who had hired him. The other man stepped out from the opposite door of the ship and approached Qimir with an air of authority.

The man was an elderly Neimoidian, his skin mottled in shades of gray and green, as was typical of his species. Tall and thin to the point of looking like a matchstick, he was dressed in luxurious dark silk robes with the peculiar headdress common to the Trade Federation. His large, piercing red-gold eyes, sharp as a hawk's, met yours in return, studying your deep blue irises with a hint of satisfaction before nodding to Qimir.

You didn’t know the name of this old stranger, and you were certain he didn’t know yours either. But he knew who you were and what you were capable of. That’s why he had gone to such lengths to obtain you.

Death was drawing near. You could feel it in your bones—the malevolent intent of something hidden, something that would soon be revealed.

The dark metal box was opened, revealing a collection of rare and priceless materials neatly arranged inside, their surfaces gleaming as they caught the light. Qimir picked up a Nova Crystal, inspecting it briefly before setting it back down with little interest. He had no desire for it, but he was compelled to take it as part of the reward specified in the contract.

But in truth, there was only one thing he had ever truly sought—only one object that mattered to him.

At the bottom of the box, lay a large piece of Cortosis. It had been carefully concealed, meant to be seen only by the bag’s owner and those granted permission to open it. Qimir reached for it next, examining it closely, his fingers tracing the subtle lines of the dull gold metal. It was genuine, he thought, the finest quality he had ever encountered.

The Neimoidians hadn’t exaggerated when they claimed their people could find anything in the galaxy, no matter how rare or scarce it might be.

“Is this all you wanted?” Blex, the branch manager and captain of the Fallon, asked with a hint of uncertainty. He had worked for the Trade Federation for decades, and this was the first time someone had specifically requested Cortosis. Though rare, it wasn’t particularly valuable compared to other metals, minerals, or energy sources that fetched far higher prices.

“Yes, that’s all.” Qimir nodded, carefully placing the cortosis back into the chest and locking it securely. He was well aware of the Neimoidians' curiosity regarding his unusual request. To most, Cortosis seemed like a worthless scrap, its softness making it nearly impossible to forge into weapons or armor. But Qimir knew its value far exceeded what others might assume.

“You’ve done well.” The old man wasn’t stingy with his praise. He had a particular fondness for bounty hunters who weren’t foolish and didn’t greedily demand more than they deserved. “I expect we’ll be working together often in the future.”

Qimir responded with a broad grin. For a moment, Blex felt an odd discomfort at the sight of that grin, but the feeling quickly passed. In the next instant, the human’s face returned to its usual friendly demeanor.

"I have a small question," Qimir began, his voice casual and still smiling. "You’re not planning to kill that woman, are you?"

The elderly Neimoidian let out a snort, as if he was on the verge of laughing. "Kill her? What nonsense are you spouting? Why would I kill something so useful?"

"Useful?" Qimir echoed, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. "What use could she possibly have?"

Blex hesitated, realizing he had let slip something he shouldn’t have. "Nothing," he waved dismissively. "You’ve got what you came for, so be on your way. Don’t waste my time with unnecessary questions. My time is money, boy."

Normally, Blex would be quite irritated by anyone prying into his business affairs. But this time, he was in too good a mood to bother with an ill-mannered bounty hunter. The old man could hardly wait to leave this place and present that woman as a gift to the head of the Trade Federation.

This is an incredibly worthwhile investment. Blex thought gleefully, considering what he stood to gain from his superior. That woman was worth more than a hundred Nova crystals or Aurodium ingots combined.

Qimir, however, remained still, even after being told to leave. His gaze drifted out the ship’s window, where nothing but the faint glimmer of distant stars, silent and desolate. The Neimoidians were a cautious and paranoid race. They had chosen the rendezvous point carefully to ensure there were no outside witnesses and minimize the risk of any unexpected dangers.

How ironic he mused with grim amusement. A race so paranoid, and yet not a single one of them realized that the real danger wasn’t outside the ship—it was inside.

"You don’t need to answer my question." Qimir's voice suddenly turned chillingly cold, the smile vanishing as quickly as his demeanor shifted, as if he were an entirely different person. "Because I can extract the answer from your mind anyway."

He raised his hand, and with a single flick, the Neimoidian’s body seemed to be constricted by some invisible force, lifted into the air, and violently yanked toward him. Within seconds, Blex's throat was clutched in Qimir’s grip. The Neimoidian’s greenish face darkened as the grip around his throat tightened.

In that instant, Blex felt a sharp intrusion of the force, penetrating his cerebrum and dissecting his memories piece by piece. The pain was excruciating, as if a real blade were slicing into his brain.

Blex's eyes widened even further as he stared at Qimir. The realization of truth in this moment between life and death brought a mixture of surprise and terror beyond words. "Y-you... You have the force. Are you a Jedi?"

"Not exactly, but close enough," Qimir shrugged, a mocking laugh escaping his lips—a laugh that could easily send chills down anyone's spine. "If I had more time, I'd let you guess again, but unfortunately, time is money."

Blex didn’t even get the chance to beg for his life. As soon as the mind-reading process was complete, the Neimoidian merchant’s neck was snapped with swift precision. Qimir discarded the lifeless body like a piece of trash, throwing it to the ground before glancing up at the ship’s ceiling. He noticed the lights abruptly turning red, followed by the shrill blare of the alarm echoing throughout the spaceship.

Qimir began calculating in his mind.

There were about three minutes before every guards on the ship would storm his position, and it would take at least another five minutes to kill anyone who stood in his way to reach his second target, who was now securely locked in the holding cell on the lowest level of the ship.

Eight minutes is too long he thought, quickening his pace, not wasting any more time.

As he walked, his thoughts drifted to you—the somber expression on your face, your strange mannerisms and words, and those blue eyes that always seemed to carry a hidden burden, as if you were harboring a crucial secret.

Qimir had never understood you, not even a little. He always thought of you as a living enigma, a puzzle he would never be able to solve.

But now he finally understood everything.

Eight minutes.

You think as you peer through the bars, noticing the two guards stationed outside your cell—a surprisingly small number, likely because they see you as nothing more than an ordinary woman, harmless and lacking the strength to retaliate.

“I don’t see why I have to waste my time guarding her too. One of us is enough. What could she possibly do?” One of the guards, whom you’ve privately nicknamed 'Scarface' because of the large scar on his face, grumbles to his companion. Despite the distance between your cell and the guards’ station, you hear every condescending word with crystal clarity.

These men underestimated you, and it was likely that many here, except for the Neimoidian merchant, didn’t even know who you really are or what you’re capable of. Their negligence in handling your imprisonment was unforgivable—like locking your arms tightly but forgetting to gag you.

You know this is your chance, slim as it may be. But it’s better than sitting idly in your cell, awaiting death. You must seize every opportunity and struggle with every ounce of hope left.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep, controlled breath, following the calming techniques your mother taught you. You steady both your body and mind, preparing for what needs to be done.

You know what you need to do. You've trained for this situation before, but the results were often less than successful. It’s an ancient technique that's difficult to learn and even harder to execute. During your training, you failed countless times, leaving you uncertain if you could actually pull it off when it matters most.

In the brief moment of calm, you focus your thoughts, replaying memories of your mother’s teachings. Her voice played in your mind, reminding you of the details you had once studied so intently.

Words, tone, and thought must align as one. For it is the forceful will, distilled from the vocal cords and heart, that becomes a command no one can resist.

You suddenly open your eyes, your thoughts halting as your heightened senses catch the presence of death creeping in from above, gradually drawing nearer.

There's no time left.

The realization sends a tremor through your body. You quickly leap to the bars and shout, "Let me out, now!"

Both guards turn to look at you, puzzled at first, before breaking into loud laughter. “You must be crazy if you think you can command me,” Scarface sneers.

You grit your teeth, knowing you have failed. Your panic made you pitch your voice too high; those men would feel nothing.

You refocus, breathing in rhythm as you had practiced. Your blue eyes gleam with intensity as you fix them on Scarface. This time, your voice rings out clear and unwavering, reverberating through the air—a blend of sharpness and depth that fills the room.

“Take your gun and shoot your friend. Then, release me and kill yourself, you bastard.”

The scarface jolts, his expression suddenly turning to one of impassivity, his eyes empty and emotionless. At that moment, you know you've succeeded. 

You wait calmly for the outcome as the scarface turns his laser gun to shoot his own colleague, walks over to unlock the cell door and handcuffs, then lifts the gun to shoot himself in front of you.

It’s as difficult as it is easy you think. An inexplicable feeling takes shape inside you. You're unsure whether it's the sorrow of killing someone for the first time or the thrill of manipulating someone's mind for the first time.

You clench your fists, your palms sweaty, trying to suppress the strange feeling before stepping over the bodies with distaste and quickly moving on to find a way to escape.

However, as soon as you climb up to the top, everything in front of you turns into a nightmare you’ve seen before.

The ship is bathed in red from the emergency lights, and the blood is scattered across the floor and up the walls of the corridor. The more steps you take forward, the more you see corpses strewn across the floor. You smell the blood clearly and hear the moans and cries growing louder after the alarm has ceased. It indicates that some are still alive, but not for long. You've seen it in your dreams. These people will all die, and soon it will be you—the last one alive here.

For a moment, you consider retreating back to the cell, locking yourself away from the outside world, and hiding quietly behind bars until everything is over. But you know that the cell won't help. It will only make you an easy target. You need to get out of this ship before it finds you.

Suddenly, your determined thoughts abruptly stop as you feel a chill run through your entire body. 

It’s coming. You can feel it. 

Not from the front, but from behind.

Fearful instinct freezes your body like a deer in front of a lion, but curiosity compels you to slowly turn around, just to see it with your own eyes. 

What you see leaves you confused rather than scared.

"Qimir," 

You utter it in bewilderment, addressing the man standing there, the one you always thought you knew well. But today, everything is different. His face is cold, and blood was smeared all over his body and face, making it difficult to determine if it was from his own injuries or those of others.

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you look at Qimir, both fearful and astonished.

It can’t be.

You remember the vision vividly. The one who should have appeared here and killed everyone, including you, was the mysterious Sith with the cracked metal helmet. But in reality, Qimir is here, and he is the one who has killed everyone instead of that Sith. This has never appeared in your visions before, not even once.

You and Qimir lock eyes, frozen as if time itself has paused. But finally, it's Qimir who makes the first move. He begins to take a step toward you, but suddenly, you shout, your voice firm and echoing through the air, "Stop. Don't move."

At first, Qimir thinks you’re speaking to him. But as he observes more closely, he notices that your gaze isn’t on him at all but focused somewhere behind him instead. When Qimir turns around, he sees one of the security guards aiming a laser gun at him at a distance close enough to be fatal. Yet, the guard doesn’t pull the trigger. He just stands there, motionless like a statue, except for his eyes, which dart back and forth in terror.

Qimir swiftly raises his knife and slashes the guard's throat, the blade cutting through the major artery with ease.

As the guard's body collapses, you also fall to the ground, blood gushing from your nose down to your chin. You can feel your strength ebbing away, replaced by a sharp pain. It’s the side effect of using your power so abruptly, damaging part of yourself in the process.

You wipe the blood from your face, smearing it across your skin, then slowly force yourself to stand just as Qimir reaches you. He grips your arm, helping you to your feet. You want to pull away, but you have no strength left. Standing on your own is a struggle in itself.

You look up at him, countless questions on the tip of your tongue, but the only words that escape your lips are a faint whisper, "Why?"

Qimir remains silent, and suddenly, he raises his hand. You flinch, the image of being choked by that Sith in your dream flashing through your mind.

But Qimir doesn’t do that. Instead, he gently places his hand on your cheek, his thumb tenderly wiping away tears you hadn't even realized were falling.

In that moment, something deep within you sends a warning, alerting you to the significance of what's happening—a twist in the thread of fate, altered by an unknown variable, changing the course of events at the last possible moment.

You’re unsure and unable to comprehend what is happening until Qimir leans in, so close that your foreheads touch, and answers all your unspoken questions with a kiss.

As your lips meet, breath merging with breath, tongue with tongue, and soul with soul, intertwining and becoming one, you understand. Qimir is everything to you—whether it be the beginning...or your inevitable end.

[snapghoul]

Head-canons 3

Growing up + Mr. & Mrs. Seresin and Sophia

Note: I’ve hit a block with mini fics and I need requests to help the brain rot flow because I’ve been staring at a blank doc for a while.

Warning: mention of child loss.

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JAKE

★ Jake was the kid who had to get a matchbox car or tiny plane from the store every time they went.

★ He helped his dad cut the lawn as a kid. By help meaning he sat on his dad’s knee and “drove” the mower.

★ Can draw fairly well, won his second grade class art contest by of drawing the Blue Angels squad. His mother had it framed in her office.

★ Used most of his allowance on Galicia at the arcade in town. Held the highest score for a year.

★ Did the water bottle muffler on his bike.

★ Knows how to sew his own clothes, his mother taught him how after she got tired to mending the tears in his pants.

★ As a baby when he was done napping he would shake the crib bars until someone came to get him.

★ All his favorite matchbox cars are still lined up on a windowsill at his parents house.

★ Had the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling.

★ Had a favorite chicken, her name was Candy.

★ Had beef with a lot of teachers in school, he wasn’t a quiet kid.

★ Competed in the rodeo with Tyler, he did barrel racing and roping with their mom’s horse Storm Warning. He won a few times.

★ Touched the electric cattle fence because older sis Sophia told him it was off. It wasn’t.

★ Sucked at hangman in school (still does)

TYLER

ᯤ Excellent at math, was in honors and AP all though high school.

ᯤ Flipped his first truck doing donuts in a field, it was fine aside from a few dents.

ᯤ Liked to garden with his mom, he had a ljttle kiddy gardening set. He liked to dig the holes for the seeds and flowers.

ᯤ Had multiple concussions from the rodeo. Only had one 3d grade concussion and it was his last.

ᯤ Almost got struck by lighting when he was ten trying to get a look at the storm.

ᯤ Got stood up on prom night and ended up not going. Jake bailed on his date so Ty wasn’t alone.

ᯤ Released crickets into the school hallway.

ᯤ Climbed out of his crib when he was done with nap time.

ᯤ Spray painted his bike red (it got everywhere)

ᯤ Was the bottom bunk when he shared a room with Jake.

ᯤ Was a stuffed animal kid, his parents have totes of them still.

ᯤ Liked to set his marshmallows on fire.

ᯤ Sophia locked him in the chicken coop more than once.

ᯤ Won the science fair two years in a row, he build a mini version of Dorothy and a tornado.

THE SERESIN FAM

✿ Brisket.

✿ Sophia is four years older than the twins. She is a veterinarian in Austin, she’s been married for two years.

✿ She originally did not like her brothers, she didn’t want anything to do with them when they were infants.

✿ There was supposed to be a another sibling, a girl, before the twins were born. Her name was Dana.

✿ Mrs. Seresin’s name is Rosalie. Her maiden name was Hayes.

✿ Mr. Seresin’s name is Cole.

✿ Mrs. Seresin has a small business, she crochets many different things. She sells a lot at craft fairs.

✿ Mr. Seresin regularly mixed up the twins as babies, hence the color coding.

✿ They have one goat named Guy. Guy will stand on the porch and bleat until he gets his daily apple slice.

✿ All three siblings have a strong and loving relationship with their parents. Both mom and dad support them in everything.

(Please tell me yall get the crickets in the hallway reference)

[januaryembrs]

WORTH THE WAIT | Poe Dameron x Reader

Request: my sweet @happyhauntt says: and to counteract the fact that my last request was sad as fuck, here's a happy one!!! a wee fic based on the song 'i guess i'm in love' by clinton kane, and this one feels like it should be for poe or steven!! enjoy!!

Description: Poe tries to help reader overcome her fear of flying by giving her something good to remember

length: 2.1k

warnings: mention of puke (none just feeling of nausea) mention of fear of heights?

authors note: yes I did listen to Romantic Flight from HTTYD when I wrote this and yes this did heal the part of me that always wanted to be flown through the clouds like this. also sorry this is so late things have been HECTIC

Poe really hoped she liked his surprise. 

There were very few things that he knew he was good at besides flying; knowing exactly how to tell her just how deeply he felt for her even after all this time being one of them. He knew he stumbled over flirtatious lines, not at all like the bachelor he once was, that his chest still pounded at the thought of her just the same as it did when he was soaring through the stratosphere, his stomach flipping when they kissed as if he’d done four barrel rolls on an X-Wing. 

He knew he was in uncharted waters being so far in a committed relationship, that his usual rendezvous' had lasted little more than a few weeks at most, but that was entirely in the past. No one had even come close since the day he met her. 

She had been his mission once. Captured on a First Order ship, Leia had ordered him and his squadron to go rescue her, had said she was some lord’s daughter of a dying planet wanted by Ren for information about her father. He had heard the stories of how his resistance leader had come to be kidnapped from Alderaan when she was young, and figuring she was just screamingly empathetic for the girl, he had done exactly as he had been told. 

He’d had no clue that his mission would become his entire life within a few short months. 

“I feel like this is a little unfair,” She teased, his hands over her eyes as he led her out to the hangar, the lone sun on their planet lowering behind the horizon, “You make me wait all day for my present, and I can’t even see it,” 

“Have a little patience, Princess,” Poe said, his lips drawing into a small smile as he felt her huff beneath his palms, “I know you’re used to getting what you want in your palace, but you’re in my town now, baby,”

She chuckled, shaking her head as he directed her down the stairs. He wasn’t entirely lying. After she’d been rescued from Ren’s grasp, her planet had quickly declared its allegiance to the resistance and she had been appointed as one of Leia’s advisors. Whether it was her quick wit, or the love she seemed to drench every single person with, no matter who they were or where they had come from, Poe wasn’t exactly sure what it was that made her such a good leader, other than the fact she was so entirely herself it was hard not to favour her; a rare quality of politicians he'd often teased her. 

She gave a sniff through her nose, trying to give herself some kind of hint as to what her gift was. “Smells like… oil? Did BB-8 leak again?” 

“Just wait, one more step in front of you,” Poe replied, his eyes trained carefully on her high heeled steps over the concrete. His stomach somersaulted as he wondered for the last time if this was a good idea, but he couldn't very well lead her all the way back out of there empty handed. Reminding himself it was her, and she would never spit anything kind back in his face, he released her face gently, “tada!”

He watched her shoulders tense under the jacket he’d given her because he worried she’d be cold in the night air, and he could tell her mind was racing a million miles a second trying to make sense of what it was he was showing her. 

His T-70 starfighter. The only thing, he often joked, that could ever rival her for the title of his beloved.

“Poe…” Her voice trailed off, unsure but not wanting to seem rude, “Poe, I can’t-”

“Baby, hear me out,” He cut in, knowing she was never going to be jumping for joy before he could explain, “I promise you, nothing bad will happen while I’m there,”

“Poe,” She said hesitantly, as he came around the front of her to see her worried expression that made him cradle her face with his warm hands almost immediately.

“They don’t call me the best pilot in the galaxy for nothing,” He smiled at her cheekily, and he was relieved to see her crack a grin then, though the fright lingered in her eyes that rolled at him.

He’d known since the day he’d rescued her that she had a fear of flying; when he’d had to sit her on his lap in that very same cockpit so they could escape the base together, when she’d screamed bloody murder and held his hands so tight he worried he might lose circulation. 

Not the best of first introductions, and not quite how he’d imagined his two greatest loves meeting. Which was why he wanted to change her experience of the whole thing. 

She gave him a tentative glance, and he fretted for a moment that it had all been a mistake; that his kind act coming from a good place had been one giant heap of selfish bantha fodder that he felt stupid for even suggesting it. But then she took a deep breath, her hands coming up over his own on her cheeks and squeezing them gently. 

“Certainly don’t call you the most humble pilot in the galaxy, Dameron,” She said with a tease, moving past him to head for the jet, “Alright, help me up. My carriage awaits,”

He beamed so hard he thought his cheeks might explode, rushing past her to lift himself up onto the right arm the way he had done so many, many times before. 

“My lady,” He stretched out his hand, all but yanking her up most of the way to where he kneeled, and he was glad he’d told her to wear her cargos and not the pretty dress she’d showed him.

Pulling herself up to a sit, she looked unsurely at the metalwork beneath them, “You’re sure it can hold two?”

“It did before, didn't it?” He countered back, hoisting himself into the cockpit that felt like a second home to him, his body sliding into his seat like a hand into a glove. He parted his thighs, granting her a space of her own, and patted the leather chair, “Actually, don't think about that. Hop in,”

She paused, uncertainty written across her face that cracked when she saw the hopeful gleam in his eyes, brown hues that had always seemed to watch her with pure adoration. She had always struggled to say no to him, especially when he looked like that. 

Slipping between his legs, she hated to admit that she found herself rather comfy enveloped between his body and the dash. 

“You sure we’re safe?” She asked once more, and his arms slid around her to grab the wheel in his right hand, the left pulling her back against his warm body that made her relax just that little bit. He kissed the side of her head, resting his temple against hers for a second. 

“You know I would never put you in harms way, sweetheart,” He said, all trace of jovial teasing gone as he kissed next to her ear and pushed the button to lock the glass canopy over their heads. It slowly lowered down, hissing into a click as it shut, and he felt her shuffle in closer to his chest, “There’s something up there I really, really want to show you. Okay?” 

She looked up at him over her shoulder, his eyes twinkling with excitement at seeing her in his seat, his co-pilot for the evening. 

How could she ever resist?

“Okay,” She nodded, tugging his arms over her shoulders like a seat belt as if strapping herself in for the ride, “Okay, I’m ready,”  

He chuckled, praying to the maker one last time that this would work, and switching the ignition up to a low rumble. 

The jet rolled forward slowly, and he wheeled it around to a clearing in runway that made her think he’d told everyone to take the evening off just so they could have their solo flight.

“Okay, baby, I’m going to have to go fast at this bit, so you might want to hold on tight,” He warned her, and he felt her grab onto his thighs with tight fists, “That’s it, I got you, you’re safe,”

Not giving her much time to overthink what was coming, he floored the gas, flicking a few of the levers above their heads. She sucked in a breath, her knuckles almost turning white with grip, “Poe,” 

“I promise you’re safe, baby,” He reassured, forcing the throttle down and they jumped forward as the engines kicked in. He would have been in the air by now if it had just been him, would probably already be doing a loop-de-loop, but he didn’t want to terrify her before they had even really started. 

She squealed, a muffled version of what he knew she was probably holding back as they started lifting off the ground, and he sped up even more, the g-force throwing her back against him, and he flicked pressed the switch on the dash to start retracting the wheels into the underbelly. 

“Poe, I’m scared,”

“You got it, I got you,” He removed one of his hands off the wheel and looped it around her waist to keep her secure, “You’re doing so well, baby,” 

It was then she made the mistake of taking a peak outside, seeing their base quickly becoming little more than a speck beneath them as they sped off upwards into the atmosphere, “Oh my stars, we’re so high,” 

He chuckled, kissing her hairline tenderly, “That’s a good thing, means we’re not in danger of crashing into trees or mountains or-”

“Poe!” She slapped his thigh, scrunching her eyes shut, “I can’t look, I’m going to puke,”

His resolve wavered for a minute, and he made the impromptu decision to yank the steering wheel down, forcing them to take a quick turn up even higher into the air, to which she tucked her head towards his jaw so she didn’t have to watch. 

He wondered if he was going to regret such a bold move, he felt her whimper against his skin and Poe cursed the whole concept of ‘Go big or go home’ that he had been going for. 

Until-

They burst through the clouds, the dusk air that had been growing dark under the smog disappearing as they cut in a straight line up, further and further until the cottony slew of powder white clouds blanketed beneath them, the way they had for him so many times before. The sun was still out this far up in the aerospace, syrupy orange, and almost pink as it met the pillowed floor, like they had flown right into a meadow of blankets and warmth. 

“Poe, I tried to be brave, really I did, for you, but my nerves are shot-” 

“Baby, look,” He cut her off, engaging the auto-pilot and moving his warm hands down her arms softly to hold her fingers in his own. The X-Wing evened out, the force barely feeling like a pull at their bodies anymore and more like a lingering jitter in their skin that could so easily be passed off as the engine. 

“I can’t, I feel sick-” She protested, pushing her nose into his neck, and he felt her hands shaking with nerves that he gently stroked away. He chuckled, the sound reverberating over the apples of her cheeks.

“Just trust me, look,” Poe said, and she took a deep breath, as if holding back another complaint, peeling herself away from him just the smallest amount to glimpse outside the star-fighter. 

Her eyes widened, sitting upright almost immediately as she saw the technicolor that had been a dull beige before, the world she’d known for over two years entirely gone, buried beneath the silkened clouds. Her mouth hung open, eyes darting over the teracotta hues, down to the valley of puffy clouds beneath that didn’t seem nearly as threatening as she’d imagined. 

She was silent for a moment, and Poe had feeling that was atleast a good thing, but he was known to second guess himself when it came down to her. 

Watching her expression with a besotted gaze, the sun’s heat glowing her cheeks with a honey kiss, he ran his fingertips over her palms, “Do you like it?”

“Poe, it’s-” She swallowed, not once ripping her eyes away from the oil painting infront of her, “You get to see this every day?”

He laughed, dipping his nose in her neck and leaving a loving kiss there, “Pretty much, yeah. I told you, it’s a whole other world up here,”

“How do you ever come down, I mean it’s, it’s,” She stammered, shuffling on the edge of the seat to take it all in even more, “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen,” 

“I have my reasons that are pretty compelling actually,” He smiled, eyes washing over her face, trying to commit that expression to memory because there were very few times they were allowed to have something good in the middle of a war. But this was it. She was it. His little bit of goodness that had been so worth the wait, “Happy Anniversary, honey,” 

[h-c-u]

Uncertainty

Summary: You're a 3rd driver for the Mercedes team, in a secret relationship with the team principal and you fill in for Lewis during the race. The car malfunctions, you completely lose control over the steering and can't avoid crashing. And it's bad. 

Pairing: Toto Wolff x fem!driver!reader

W/C: 6.1k

Rating: M. Car crash, talk about injuries and surgeries.

TWs: Car crash, near death injuries

A/N: I swear to gods, my mood when it comes to writing changes so quickly -,- It's dark, sad, and heavy. Also - like 90% of the fic is happening when the reader is in surgery, but the idea just dug it's claws into my brain and didn't want to let go.

Masterlist | List of tags

- Bono, something's wrong with the steering, there is a slight delay in response, and I'm unable to predict how much I should correct. - you were honestly getting scared. You didn't want to lose the 5th position, especially this late in the race. You knew yourself well enough that you could get at least 3rd before the end, but not with a car that behaved like that. 

- I'm running the diagnostic now to see if we'll be able to do something about it remo... FUCK. CRASH. Be careful. - you instantly felt cold, but it wasn't your first time in a dangerous situation. When Bono told you about the crash, you hadn't seen it just yet, because it was hidden behind a turn, and as soon as you turned...

- Breaks are not working. And I completely lost control over the steering. - everything was happening in slow motion, and you couldn't do anything. There was no fancy "eject" button like in a James Bond movie; you were able to just watch and brace for impact. - Bono. I'm going to crash into them. Don't let me die. - you whispered, tears very slowly gathering in your eyes under the helmet. 

You didn't say another word. You didn't swear, you didn't scream. You knew what was about to happen and somehow you managed to remain calm. You just fastened the straps holding you to the seat even more and held your arms close to your chest. 

You heard people screaming over the comms, familiar voices full of panic and desperation but the one voice you were hoping to hear... wasn't there. So whatever others were saying didn't matter. 

And then you were flying. The nose of your car wedged under someone else, and it sent you into a barrel on the track. You closed your eyes, not to get nauseous, but it was a small comfort, especially when the car turned to its side and continued to barrel toward the wall. How you were able to stay conscious for so long - you weren't sure, but then suddenly... there was nothing. 

- TOTO, NO! YOU CAN'T GO THERE! THERE IS PROTOCOL!

- FUCK PROTOCOL!!! - he was trying his best to get from Bono's and Ricardo's strong arms, but they held him steady and didn't let him run out of the garage.

- Medics and the crew are already at the scene. She will be in the ambulance before you get to that part of the track. - James stepped in front of the man, blocking his way, and put his hand on his boss's chest stopping him from moving any further. No one ever saw Toto this distressed. Sure, he could get angry, but this... This was different. - Calm down and think. 

- I... I can't. - his shoulders slumped and even though he wasn't trashing and trying to get out anymore, his thoughts were galloping at the speed of light, running through every possible scenario. - I just can't... - Bono and Ric loosened their grip on his body and exchanged a worried look with the technical director. - I don't know what to do... - he admitted, his voice completely broken. 

- We're gonna get to the hospital and we'll go from there. - James realized it was his turn to think about everything, and even though he didn't completely understand why Toto reacted this way - he wanted to help in whatever way he could. All of the people in the garage were shaken up, but this... This was new. Toto was oozing fear and desperation from everywhere. His posture, his voice, the frantic look in his eyes... - Toto. - the technical director wasn't sure if his words even reached his friend, but Wolff finally nodded slowly. - Yeah...? - he made sure. 

- Yeah. Hospital. Let's go. - he whispered eventually. He was in no condition to drive, so he let his friend do that. He didn't take his eyes from the view behind the window once, even though he was seeing none of what they were passing. He dug his nails into his knees, bit his lower lip until he drew blood, and tried his best not to break down completely. Not before he knew if you were dead or alive. 

When they arrived at the hospital, Toto didn't even wait for James to park properly, he was out of the car as soon as they reached the entrance. He run into the emergency room and quickly located the admission desk, but before he said anything, he took one last, deep breath. 

- Hello, my name is Toto Wolff. I'm the emergency contact for Y/n Y/l/n. I would like to know in what condition she's in. - his voice was surprisingly calm. Even in such a state, he knew that whatever happened wasn't the nurses' fault and he didn't want to take out whatever he felt on them. 

- I have to confirm your identity first. Can I see your ID? - the old nurse asked, but she was already typing something on the keyboard. Toto frantically patted his pockets in search of a wallet, momentarily mortified, because he got afraid that he left it in his bag, in the garage, but James came to his rescue with said wallet. He quickly fished out his ID and presented it to the nurse. 

- She was admitted about 10 minutes ago and is being prepped for the surgery. She already had a head CT, but there are no results yet. There is also no information about planned procedures. - she explained with a soft tone, even though the news she was sharing wasn't exactly... good. 

- What does it mean...? - Toto asked, fearing the worst. 

- It means there was a head injury and she's unconscious. They don't know exactly what's wrong, but it's serious enough for emergency surgery with neuro, orthopedic and cardiothoracic surgeons. - she added, quieter. Sure, she could have omitted a few facts, but something told her that it would have the opposite effect on the man in front of her. 

- Her... Her heart...? - if he weren’t holding the high counter in front of the admission desk, he would have slumped to the floor. 

- Or lungs. - she clarified. - I'm sorry I can't give you better news... But she's in the best hands in the country. I will ask one of our interns to take you to a waiting room... - she waved at one of the young men, who was currently filling out papers, and quickly told him what to do. - And sir... - she added, just when they were about to leave the area. - It will be a long surgery, but the longer the wait, the better. It means that she's still fighting. - that was the first thing that gave him hope... You were still alive. Still fighting. And you weren't the type of person who easily gave up. 

Toto Wolff was not a religious man. He honestly couldn't remember when was the last time he visited any place of worship, but now... Now he was going through every prayer he knew. He begged every god, every angel, every demon, every saint he could think of, not to let you die, and if that's necessary - to take him instead. Logically he knew that wasn't possible, but he was willing to try everything, no matter how stupid it seemed at the moment.

James left his side only once, to get some shitty coffee from the machine, but it was left untouched in between Toto's feet. He didn't know what to say, what to do... Other people came and went. The pit crew, engineers, other team principals, drivers... A few stayed. Mostly other drivers, and from the closer circle - James, Bono, George... And Lewis - without even saying a word was on a video call with Bono, feeling extremely guilty. 

- Did... - George finally broke the silence. - Did anyone call her family? - he asked, and Toto just clenched his fists. 

- She doesn't have one. - he whispered eventually. - She's an only child and went no-contact with her parents just as she started racing. - he added and the others looked at him trying to hide the surprise. - She will kill anyone who’ll let them know about anything even remotely connected to her life. So as far as things go... she doesn't have a family. - he ended in a harsher tone than he intended and almost immediately sighed. 

He was still in the clothes he was wearing during the race... The track pass was tucked in the pocket on his chest, and the headphones were still around his neck, but he didn't even notice them, and no one in the room dared to say a word. 

Just as three hours passed since they arrived, a young-looking woman called out your last name, and the four men immediately stood up, three with hope, one in fear, because it was much too quick for the surgery to end. 

- Hello, my name is Alex and I'm one of the residents helping with your... - she stuttered for a second, realizing she didn't know the relationship between her patient and the men in the waiting room. - With Y/n's surgery. We were able to stop the bleeding in her brain and remove all the debris lodged there without major issues. The head of neurosurgery is currently reversing all four of the aneurysms, but compared to what we already did - it's the easiest thing. - she started explaining and everyone except Toto sighed with relief. 

- What else...? - he asked, afraid of the further news. - Please tell us everything, no matter how small or ugly. I need to know... - he pleaded, and James put his hand on his boss’s shoulder. There was some hesitation on the young doctor’s face, but eventually, she continued. 

- Eight of her ribs are broken... Two of them were lodged in her right lung and the cardiothoracic surgeon was able to remove one and is working on the second. One pierced her kidney, but due to the positioning... The lungs take priority. Her spinal cord is intact, but three of the lumbar vertebrae are fractured and we will have to realign them later. Her right femur is broken in six places, left in two and our head of ortho is currently working on that. Both of her tibias and feet are by some miracle intact. All the bones in her shoulders, arms, forearms, wrists, and hands are also free of any injuries. She didn't sustain any burns or lacerations because of the suit, which will help during her recovery. - with every word the relief disappeared more and more from the men's faces, and Toto's lips became almost invisible. 

- Her heart...? - he asked eventually. 

- Intact and strong. She's not on any assistance during the surgery, although we're ready for that if the need arises. She's a fighter. - the young doctor added with a gentle smile. 

- You've mentioned her recovery... Does that mean...? - he was afraid to finish the question, especially when he saw Alex's face drop just a little.

- I... I shouldn't have said that. I can't promise you any type of outcome, especially with such severe injuries. - her voice softened. - We know what's wrong. We know how to fix it. And we will do our best to do so. Three of the best surgeons in the country are currently working together to keep her alive, so objectively - the chances of success are high. But I can't promise you that everything will be perfect. – Toto nodded, acknowledging the situation. 

- Thank you for taking the time to explain everything to us. - he whispered, suddenly feeling weak in the knees. - Would it be too much if I asked for an update after every major stage? Doesn't matter if good or bad... I just need to know... - George was the one to notice how shaky Toto truly was, so he helped him sit down, so the man wouldn't fall over. 

- It wouldn't be too much at all. I was planning to do so anyway... But it... - she started, but Wolff cut her off.

- It's gonna be a long surgery, I was told. I will be here. - his voice was stronger than his body, and the young doctor gave him one last smile before she turned around and went back to the operating block. 

None of the men knew what to say, so they just sat in silence, trying to process what has happened. 

There was a moment when George started quietly sobbing, and without even thinking, Toto put his arm around him and pulled him into a hug, trying to give him the comfort he so desperately needed himself. But the only person who could give it to him was currently lying cut open on the operating table. 

- George, you officially got second place with 18 points... - James eventually broke the silence, but none of them were able to say after how long, because time had become something immeasurable. - Congratulations... - he added, but that was the last thing on young driver's mind. Few other drivers in the waiting room took out their phones to check the results, but in the end - there were more important things than that. 

- Holly shit. - someone whispered and almost immediately added. - Y/n crashed after the red flag. She got 5th. With the fastest lap. - all heads turned to Carlos, who was sitting on the floor. Even Toto couldn't believe what he just heard. He knew you were good, damn... He believed in you since day one, that's why he was so quick to sign you. And now... Now Y/n Y/l/n was officially the first woman since 1975 who scored points in F1, which was a historical achievement. 

- She got 11 points... - James confirmed after checking his email once again. And then there was silence again. There should be a celebration, all of them knew that. And even though someone will contest that, because technically you wouldn't be able to finish the race if it were resumed, and your team would fight tooth and nail for that not to be taken away... But for now, in the official FIA statement, you finished in 5th place. 

There were some murmurs and whispers, but none of it mattered to Toto more than you actually living, so when he saw the familiar face of a young doctor again, he almost jumped from his seat. 

- Hello again... - she smiled, which he took as a good sign. - The orthopedic surgeon finished working on her legs and we were able to close them. There was no additional damage to the thigh muscles, so we didn't have to take any part of them, which means that she will be able to regain a full range of movements, in time of course. The neurosurgeon just finished reversing the aneurysms, and the new head CT didn't show any additional injuries, so we will be able to slowly close her skull as well. We were also able to remove the other rib from her lung, and the head of cardio is currently working on repairing her right lung, but we don't know for sure if it is viable, which means... - she stopped for a moment, not sure how the man in front of her would react to such news. 

- That there is a chance you will have to remove it. But she could live with just one lung, right? - he made sure.

- With some restrictions, but yes. 

- Then in the end it doesn't matter. How about her kidney and spine? - he asked, eager to know more. 

- The kidney is being worked on as we speak, but the spine... - she stopped for a moment, trying to find the best words to explain the situation to someone unfamiliar with medical jargon. - The best way to get to the lumbar vertebrae would be from the back, which would require a change of position. And since the injuries on the front of her body are so extensive, the new position might be dangerous for her, so there will be benefits to closing her up, letting the body rest and regenerate for a few days, and proceeding with second surgery later in a week. 

- Wouldn't leaving it as it is, be dangerous as well? I mean - is there a chance of the fragments moving and injuring her spinal cord?

- That's exactly why we haven't decided on the best course of action just yet. We still have to finish working on her kidney, lung, and ribs, while the neurosurgeon assesses which option would be the safest and does more scans to see if going from the front would be possible. It's unconventional, but it has been successfully done. - she explained and Toto nodded. 

- Thank you for explaining that to me... - she just smiled gently and walked away. 

It was the first time he looked at the clock, and it was almost midnight, but he didn't feel that at all. Time was weird, because he felt like the crash had happened just a few seconds ago, and at the same time as if centuries passed since he saw your car barreling down the track. And then he heard an unfamiliar voice calling out your name. He instantly turned around in that direction and saw a medical responder in full gear. She repeated your name once again and Toto finally put his hand up. 

She quickly came closer and sat in front of him.

- Good evening, sir... I was one of the first responders to the crash, and I was responsible for intubating Y/n. - she started explaining, and Toto was too exhausted to ask what it was about, or even to introduce himself. - But before I did that... She was awake for just a moment. And she asked me to pass the message, the problem is... I don't know to whom. - it was like he caught a second wind because he instantly focused on the woman in front of him. 

- What did she say...? - he asked, leaning forward. He knew everyone was listening, but he didn't care. 

- She said... "Why didn't I say it back... Please tell him that I love him." - Toto blinked a few times as if the words had trouble reaching him, but when they finally did... He started to laugh like a maniac, and everyone looked at him in worry that he actually snapped or went crazy.

Earlier today, when you were both just waking up with the first rays of sunshine peeking over the horizon, he said those three magic words for the first time... Three words, eight letters... He didn't expect anything in return, because he knew how hard expressing any emotions came to you, but it was important to him to assure you that he, indeed, loved you and wasn't planning to go anywhere. He also knew that you loved him, because you had your own way of showing that to him... 

So, to hear that when you were convinced you were dying, the last thought in your mind was telling him something he already knew for a while was... a bit absurd. But then it hit him... You did that because you thought that he didn't know you loved him. And your possible last thought was letting him know that you weren't in it just for fun, that you were serious about your relationship. And that made him freeze. 

- Sir...? - the lady in front of him reached to touch him but stopped last second. 

- I'm sorry... I know who that message was for... Thank you for passing it on. - he gave her a weak smile, and she just nodded. - And thank you for what you did for her... It means a lot to me. - he added quieter, and just like that, she was gone. 

The atmosphere in the waiting room was still extremely tense, but that didn't stop a few of the drivers from dozing off. Someone even ordered pizzas, but Toto didn't move... He didn't eat, didn't drink, didn't say anything... He was a shell of himself while his heart was being cut open, stabbed, prodded, and stitched back up on the operating table just a few meters away. 

And while at first people were brushing it off as a team principal caring for his driver, the few closest to him realized that there was more. Finally, Bono had enough and sat right next to him.

- How long...? - he whispered quietly enough that no one else was able to hear. 

- I don't know what... - Toto immediately wanted to deny everything and play stupid, but one look from his friend and he folded. - 5 months... - he said, barely any sound leaving his lips. 

- And the thing the paramedic said...? - he asked, but only got a nod in reply. - Shiiiiiiit... - this time Toto looked at him confused. - I lost the betting pool.

- What? 

- We have... Well, now had... A betting pool because we noticed that you were much happier for quite some time. The most popular option was antidepressants, and I bet on that, not gonna lie. - Toto just blinked a few times, still trying to process what was being said. - There was also a winning streak, therapy, someone you hated dying, that you got laid, but Lewis was the only one that bet on a new relationship. I mean - there were a few more people who bet on the relationship, but Lewis nailed the 5 months. - Toto still couldn't believe what he was hearing, but somehow, the absurdity of the situation helped him relax just a little.

- You make bets... about my private life? - he was genuinely curious if it was the first time. 

- Well... Yeah. Because you're all mysterious and shit. It's easy to make up some crazy stories just for fun. - Bono just shrugged. - None of us suspected that you and her... I mean, in public, you were equally close with... - he stopped and pointed with his chin in the direction of the familiar face in blue scrubs. 

- We were able to save the lung and a kidney. All ribs are secured in their places. - Toto sighed with relief for the first time since he saw the car tumbling on the tracks. - The head of neuro managed to find a way to repair the vertebrae from the front, but it will be a long procedure. The angle he has to go in from is very unusual and taxing, but we will be able to do everything today. Her vitals are stable, her heart is strong... She's doing well, sir. We still don't know the extent of her brain injury, which will have to wait till she wakes up, but we are optimistic that she will. - she smiled softly and gently squeezed his arm. 

- Thank you... - and with that, she was gone again, and Toto looked around the waiting room... It was almost 3 AM, and the surgery started... around 10 hours ago. And yet the whole younger generation of drivers was here, most of them still in gear... Some were on the uncomfortable chairs, some quietly talking, and few even fell asleep on the floor. Even though you were all competitors, and you weren't even a full-seat driver yet, they still respected you and your skills a lot. - Guys, I think you should go back to your hotels and get some sleep... Or just rest... I'll let you know in the morning how the surgery went. - few heads turned in his direction, but no one moved. Lando finally broke the silence. 

- With all due respect sir, she wouldn't leave any of us... - Toto couldn't help but feel... pride. Not just for you, but for them. Just 10 years ago this type of situation wouldn't be possible... After the crash, maybe one or two drivers, who were the closest to the injured one, would be in the hospital, but never for this long... And never this many... They were good kids, and it meant that the times were changing. 

- I can't disagree with that... - he smiled. - Thank you all. - he added and sat right back. Now, that most of your injuries were under control, he let himself think of anything else, and that turned out to be those boys behind him. He quickly wrote a few messages to the other team principals, letting them know where most of their drivers were and asking them to arrange at least a change of clothes, because the majority of them still had sensors under their gear, and that must have been uncomfortable. He also took time to bring every single one of them a cup of that awfully sweet hot chocolate and spent a few minutes talking with them one on one about whatever they needed to get off their chests. And next to being worried about you, most of them were scared... 

It took a while, but he finally came back to his original chair and for the first time - leaned back in it and stretched, but that wasn't near enough for him to release all the tension collected in his body. But now... Now he allowed himself to hope. 

The next time he saw Alex, she was with another doctor, and it was already getting bright outside. All of the drivers - now in regular clothing - were sleeping on each other in different combinations, and only George was awake beside himself. 

- The operation was a success... - she started, and Toto felt as if someone finally took the weight of the whole world from his shoulders, the relief of it forcing tears out of his eyes. - She's already stitched up, and soon we will move her to a recovery room, where you will be able to see her - for the first few hours, just through the glass and then in person. - you lived. That's all that mattered. - She will be in a medically induced coma for at least a few days to prevent her brain from swelling more. We will continue monitoring her, and based on the results we will decide when will be the best time to wake her up. - the young doctor explained and when she looked over the waiting room, she added. - She... She's stable, but she doesn't look well... - the tone of her voice was enough to convey what she really wanted to say. 

- They won't take no for an answer... They will want to see her. - he quietly said. - They look young, well, they are young... It's hard to explain, but they need to see her. They need to see for themselves that she's alive... - Alex looked at the older doctor who gave silent permission. - Thank you for all you did... For saving her...

- I can take you to see her now, but the rest... Groups of 3 the most. - Toto nodded and another sigh of relief escaped his chest. He still couldn't believe what happened. When he saw the crash, he was mentally preparing for the funeral, but now... Now you were alive. Still extremely injured and with months if not years of therapy in front of you, but you were alive. Fuck everything else. 

- Can you give me a minute...? I'd like to tell them myself. - he explained and after getting a quiet “sure”, he went first to Bono and James, who were sleeping in the chairs next to each other, and very quickly explained what he just heard. After that, he went around the room and quietly told everyone else. Some of the younger ones immediately started crying from relief, and he couldn't blame them, because he did the exact same, so he just pulled them into a wordless hug until they calmed down. It definitely took more than a minute, and he felt a bit bad for keeping the young doctor awake, but when he took a quick look in her direction, she smiled at him, letting him know that he can take as long as he needs. This was definitely an unusual situation. 

But eventually, everyone was up to speed, and the atmosphere in the room relaxed a bit. There were even a few awkward laughs, but Toto wasn't there to hear them. He was walking a couple of steps behind the young doctor who was kind enough to update him over the last fifteen hours, and he tried to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to see. You were alive. That's all that mattered. 

It wouldn't be the first time he saw someone after the crash, hell - he was in one himself. Albeit not such a serious one... He was around the track long enough to know that even the nonlethal injuries weren't pretty, he saw what could happen to drivers who either weren't careful, skillful, or lucky enough. But you were definitely careful and skillful enough. But today, well... yesterday. You didn't have enough luck. A mechanical failure. Two of the things that had so many fail-safes, he wasn't sure he could count that high. But somehow all of them failed... He knew there would be an investigation, but that didn't matter. Because you were alive. 

So, when he finally saw you through the thick glass... He broke. He had to hold himself on the metal barrier in front of the window just not to fall over, and the young doctor put his arm under his, trying to assist him until he'd be able to stand straight. You looked so small connected to all the heavy machinery in the room. A thick tube down your throat, a bag of full blood connected to the IV port in your arm, all the cables coming from under the bandages on your chest... The draining tubes coming from under the bandages on your thighs... Your face was swollen, with bruises in multiple places, and your head was shaved and covered in bandages. He couldn't help but laugh at that one detail... You wanted to shave your head for ages but never found the right moment with all the press and photoshoots. 

And your hands... Somehow, they didn't fit the picture... They were pristine, not counting the IVs... No bruises, no bandages, no anything... Your long fingers looked exactly the same as they did this morning when you intertwined them with his, just as he was about to tell you he loves you.

- I'm sorry, it's just... - he started, but he couldn't finish, so he just rested his forehead on the cold glass in front of him, trying so hard not to let tears into his eyes.

- It can be a lot, seeing a loved one like this... I understand... 

- She's alive... - he failed. He tried to convince himself that it was enough, but seeing you like that... So small, so... weak. It hit him. He wouldn't be able to live without seeing you wildly dance on the roof of one of the many hotels you stayed in during the racing season... Without hearing your broken singing from under the shower in the morning... Without your contagious laughter at something stupid, he said... He needed you more than he needed to breathe, and it scared him. 

He wiped the tears with the back of his hand, straighten his posture, and did his best to compose himself. Not for himself, but for the people who were about to see you like that. You lived... and for now that had to be enough. 

He didn't leave your room since he was allowed to enter it for the first time... Sitting at your bed, holding your hand, putting on the music he knew you'd like, reading aloud... And with every passing day, you started looking... stronger. The color started returning to your skin, and the bruising and swelling on your face slowly started healing. The drivers kept visiting you, and when they had to leave to prepare for the next race - they kept sending you gifts. 

Lewis stayed the longest after he finally got well enough to leave his room... He spent the entire day at your side, holding your hand, apologizing profusely, and praying... And after he didn't have any more tears left in him, he started telling you stories he knew you'd love. He was also the one to bring that perfume you bought in Egypt and which you absolutely adored; he put a drop of it behind your ears and on your wrists and left the bottle on the nightstand. 

George was the one to take it the hardest... Even though he tried his best not to show it when he was visiting, Toto knew. He knew how close the two of you were, and all the crazy adventures you shared. You were like siblings on crack and the things you could get into when let out of the bullpen... He honestly couldn't believe that you haven't been arrested yet for some of the stuff you pulled... That's why the last time he visited before leaving the UK, Toto suggested talking to a therapist and George agreed.

It took more than the few days Alex mentioned after the surgery, but the decision to wake you up was finally made a bit over two weeks after the crash. And he felt like a babe in the woods the whole morning; happy that the medication will be out of your system, but afraid of what would happen if you didn't wake up.

Alex was the one who sat with the both of you in the room, watching your vitals like a hawk, and as soon as she saw any change, she explained to Toto what exactly it meant. Around noon, she made the decision to stop intubating you, because it looked like your brain took over that function. She of course was ready with a new tube, just in case, but it ended up not being necessary; even though one of your lungs wasn't fully healed, enough oxygen was getting to your brain. 

Around noon he started to get antsy, but Alex quickly calmed him down and explained again that it might take even a few days because there is no way to tell how your brain would react. It didn't help much, but having someone to answer his every question was a godsend because he wasn't able to think about worst-case scenarios when there was a professional who said otherwise. 

He wasn't able to eat, but he didn't care... He didn't want to miss the moment when you woke up. But the day ended and nothing changed. In the evening one of the other residents took over for Alex, but Toto still didn't move and didn't let go of your hand. Not even when he rested his head on the bed next to your legs for just a moment. But the moment became a bit longer when he closed his eyes...

A familiar sensation woke him up... Long, cold fingers running through his hair, and he couldn't help but smile, at first - not realizing what it meant. But then it hit him. His eyes shot open, and he immediately sat up. 

Your beautiful eyes were open and full of tears, while your hand found his, and squeezed it tightly. 

- You're awake... - he whispered the obvious... - She's awake! Get a doctor here! - he shouted when he realized you two were alone in the room.

You tried to say something, but the words stuck in your throat due to pain.

- Shhh... Don't say anything just yet... You were intubated and the doctors said it might take some time for it to heal... - he said, without even noticing he started crying, but you decided to ignore him; your determination was much stronger than a little bit of pain. Well, ok... More than a little bit. 

- I... - you started, but the rest of the sentence didn't want to come out...

- I love you... And I know you love me too... I have known it for a while now. You never had to say it... I knew... - he said, brought your hand to his lips, and started pressing soft kisses to the back of it. You extended your finger to wipe one of the tears from his cheek, and his other hand quickly followed, wiping the rest. You looked around the room and noticed all the flowers, the teddy bears, the toys... There was even a... Tamagotchi...? And a brand-new Nintendo Switch...? 

You looked back at Toto with a question painted on your face. 

- The other drivers brought most of this stuff... They still keep sending things even though... - you nudged your head forward, urging him to continue. - Even though they had to leave for the next race. The accident was over two weeks ago, I'll explain everything later, I promise... But now the doctors will have to run some tests, ok...? - you nodded in response and shifted your gaze to the doctors that came into the room just a moment ago. They started simple, asking you to follow the light with your eyes and look in certain directions. And you did whatever they asked, not letting go of Toto's hand. 

You were scared and in pain... But somehow you knew everything will be all right, because despite everything - you weren't alone. And that was certain. 

A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :) Love, G.