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freshbakedbreadstick · 20 days ago

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The Physicalities of Grief - Season 2 Arcane Viktor x F!Reader

Season 2 Arcane Viktor x F!Reader

Summary (SPOILERS): It's hard to grieve someone when their not really gone.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. HEAVY SPOILERS OF SEASON 2 ACT 1 OF ARCANE!! BE WARNED! Reader is described as having a vagina and uses she/her pronouns. Reader’s backstory is kept vague but is mentioned to be from Zaun (the Undercity), worked with Jayce and Viktor, and was childhood friends with Viktor. Mentions of masturbation, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, heavy grief, angst (not a breadstick fanfic if there isn’t angst), bad coping with grief and emotions, grief horniness LMAO, spoilers, brief fear that someone broke into your place, slightly improper use of his powers (not really use tho more like hinting at it), brief mention of vomiting but not in detail (!!), this is basically shameless PWLP (porn with little plot) that i'm using to cope ok?

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Unfortunately i am using Arcane Season 2 as a form of escapism bc i am not ok (context , i live in the US and i am a woman of color , , , , enough said ) anyways i am a Viktor stan and i love him SO SO SO much anyways AS PROMISE HERE IT IS ! LMAO i can't wait for act 2 to come out ! ! ! ! ENJOY ! (awhhh doesnt he look so normal in season 1 ?)

It feels like all you have ever known was this feeling.

This feeling of… swelling and crashing waves of anger and sadness. Of overwhelming crying screams, of bubbling tears that blind you, of aching emptiness that makes your joints feel sore and body retch after every meal.

Mel had to remind you that you were grieving, but you could see the way Jayce looked at her, shaking his head softly when she spoke.

“He isn’t dead,” he would whisper once Mel would leave, but you could only weakly utter “Then why does it feel like he is?”

He never knew what to say to that, just stepping back, face falling.

It was ridiculous at this point, the way he looked at you with… almost pity. You were sick of it. Everytime he came to you, updating you on the latest findings while you laid in bed, pathetically. Feeling like a waste as he went from spending hours in the lab, working beside his friend’s body encased in who knows what, to desperately fighting you to get you to eat something, anything.

You felt like a burden, like a waste of a mind and body that was once so ambitious and passionate, moving around the lab to help with whatever you could get your hands on.

“I’m useless,” you would whisper to yourself in the cover of dark, chest empty and eyes red and dry.

But his words… his words hurt the most.

“Please eat something, anything!” He cried, trying to ever so gently pin your arms down as he lifted a small cup of soup to your face.

“No Jayce, no! Stop it!” You cried, barely able to flail against him.

“I need you to eat something, please! You can't keep going on like this!” His voice cracked.

You pushed his hands away, successfully hitting the cup and making it clatter and crash to the floor.

Both of you flinched, pausing mid movement to hear the sound of the porcelain shattering into millions of pieces.

Stillness for a few seconds. Peace from him for a few seconds.

Until his voice brought you back.

“...Viktor would've wanted you to eat… to keep going…”

It made your eyes burn, chest tightening, throat closing. It made your heart race, limbs suddenly energized for the first time in days, feeling ready to run marathons.

Did Viktor feel this way the first time he touched the hexcore?

You shoved him away with surprising strength, making Jayce yell and fall to the ground, his arm moving up to shield himself.

Leaping from bed, you yanked the sheets around yourself, heavy and dark fabric covering the weakness of your flesh from sight.

“You have no idea what he would've wanted!” Your throat burned as you screamed, lips twisted into a sneer as you glared at him on the floor.

He couldn't even bear to look at you. Coward.

Paled hands moved to claw at your bedside table, yanking the drawers open. You yanked things out, throwing them to find it. Where is it?

Where is it? Where is it? Where is it?

Then you felt it. Soft beneath your fingertips, the embroidered ‘V' he asked you to add onto it scratching your skin ever so slightly. It made you pause, mind rushing and mouth rushing even faster.

“Better yet, you knew what he wanted and still went against him!” Your voice quivered as you yelled at Jayce.

Jayce gasped softly, head jerking back.

“W-what friend you are,” You stuttered, tears rushing back into your eyes and making your voice sound watery. You felt stupid.

Jayce’s breath hitched, his mouth opened to respond but you were too quick. You grasped the red fabric into your hands and rushed off, snatching your shoes on before you ran out the door with a choked sob, Jayce yelling out your name as you did so.

Your body ached as you ran, running into corners and slamming into walls you didn’t sense as you rounded hallways. Your body feverish, only shivered when you stepped out into the chill of the quiet darkness of the supposed city of progress.

Your lungs ached as you ran, panting and gasping between cries. You ran and ran, stumbling and nearly collapsing as you made your descent.

Down, down, down… to the city you knew too well.

Back home.

You tucked the blanket closer as you rounded corners with ease, effortless as you hopped over piles of trash and twisted into darkened alleys, avoiding the sounds of twisted laughs and growls.

You nearly ran into the door of your little old home, scratching at your neck to yank the necklace into the light of the partially broken street lamps. A trembling hand shoved the key into the lock, tugging yourself to press your cheek against the cold door with a hiss.

It was hard to tell what you were doing in the darkness of the studio, staggering as you closed the door and moved around, getting bruises as you ran into old furniture and beat up tables. You cried out, howling in pain as you made your way toward your bed, hidden in the back of the room.

One hand reached out, feeling the end of the furniture with heavy pants, eyes wide and barely able to make it out. But it was there, sturdy and reliable, the scent of comfort, of home, reaching your nose as you collapsed onto it, bursting out in wails.

The bed creaked as your body shook, the utter power of your lament echoing in the darkness of the room, red fabric clutched to your chest.

You could smell him, smell the mixture of coffee, toast, and the unmistakable scent of the lab.

You cried louder, rattling the windows with each sound as you held the fabric he used to tie his tie, nose buried into it. But it did nothing to muffle you, nothing to withhold the sounds of your cries.

It felt like days passed before you passed out, falling unconscious without a second thought.

But when you finally woke, it was dark again.

Body aching, you sat up in with a heaved breath, wincing at the pain that echoed throughout your being. It was hardly bearable, making you sigh as you realized that you finally did it, you pushed yourself too much and rendered yourself alone, sleeping the day away.

You felt like a ghost skirting around your home, blanket clutched around your form and hand clutching the red fabric to your chest with paled knuckles. Feet made soft sounds as you stomped, using all your strength to collapse onto the sink, holding onto the ledge as you stretched, one hand opening the tap and lips greedily sucking in the water that came down.

You knew that you would probably regret this later, Zaun’s tap water was not meant to be drunk without extra precautions made to ensure it was clean. Afterall, this wasn’t Piltover, where you could drink fresh water from the tap without worry.

You remembered the way your mother would have to boil it over the fire as a child, wincing as you drank the warm water after running circles around your childhood best friend, who would laugh and watch with a sad glint in his eyes as you did so. All you wanted was fresh, cold water after sweating, throat scratchy and knees scraped with a wonder only a child could possess.

It made you want to cry again, as your familiar scratchy throat was soothed by the cool water, if only temporarily.

Your hand barely had the strength to push the faucet shut, slipping onto your knees soon after.

The fabric pressed against your nose, darkening under the tears that slipped and hit it on its way down your cheeks. Burnt toast… coffee… metal. Burnt toast, coffee, metal. Burnt toast, coffee, metal, Jayce. Burnt toast, coffee, metal, Jayce, you.

You crawled back into bed, grunting and groaning as your limbs screamed, desperate for you to stop and give up. ‘Forget it, you're alone now’ they said, desperate for a break.

“Just… let me get to the bed… please,” you heard your gravely voice whisper out, begging yourself.

“...I’ll quit once I get to bed… please…”

‘Fine,’ you told yourself.

Crumpled there on the sheets, you encased yourself with the blanket like a body laid to rest among the flowers, eyes closed and breathing getting slower. You could hear chatter from just beyond the walls, the sound of people chattering before rushing off, the occasional argument either followed by commotion or silence. It soothed you like a lullaby, as it soothed all children of the undercity.

But as a fight breaks out nearby, harsh voices echoing the sounds of punches, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried desperately to think of something else.

Like the day he convinced you to go with him to Piltover.

“Come with me,” he whispered, hand extended out to you, amber eyes glinting with hope for what this opportunity would bring.

“Oh Viktor,” you whispered aloud, voice breaking just like in the memory.

“Please,” he said, brows creasing.

“But will I fit in? Will they accept me?” you murmured, holding your own hand, looking between his hand to his eyes.

“They accept me,” he breathed.

“That’s because you are a scientist.”

He scoffed, “Do not reduce yourself to utility, regardless of where you come from, you deserve to live amongst them.”

“But they will stare at me like… like I'm trash.”

“Nothing we aren’t used to already… besides… I need you there.”

Your breath hitched.

“You do?” you whispered to yourself, hand clutched to the fabric rising to press it against your nose again.

Eyelids softened as you thought of the way he smiled, chuckling softly at your bewildered face, smooth voice like melody that made goosebumps spread across your skin as he said, “Of course I need you…”

You didn’t even realize your free hand had inched its way down your torso until your fingertips hit the waistband of your bottoms, making you freeze up, eyes snapping open to stare into the inky darkness.

You panted, chest rising and falling.

“No…” you whispered, “N-no, no I… I can't.”

“Of course you can,” his voice echoed in your brain, smooth as a ray of sunlight, “Whatever it is you're worried about, I'll help you.”

Finally, your hand fell into his. He pulled you close, so close, that his eyes flickering onto yours felt like it had replaced the sun and the moon, “Come with me.”

Trembling, your hand pushed under the waistband and under your undergarments, fingers tracing over your mound before dipping down to the unabashed wetness of your core.

You gasped, chest tightening.

“No,” you whispered into the fabric.

Burnt toast, coffee, metal.

Your fingers glided down, hips rising and legs spreading, skin so so hot under your touch. With a smooth swipe, the wetness gathered itself on your fingertip, moving to ever so gently press against your throbbing clit.

It made you whine, voice muffled by the fabric held tight against your hand.

“No please…” you whispered once more, your resolve slipping as you thought of those amber eyes and how they glistened when he spoke about his work.

“C-can’t…” you just couldn’t bear it.

This was your childhood friend you were imagining, your friend who cared so deeply about you that he was willing to take you with him when he got a new opportunity in Piltover. Your friend who sacrificed his health for the sake of finding new tech to help people like you, who weren’t given a fair chance in the undercity. Your friend whose gaze would transfix on you as he explained what he was doing, voice tinged with an eagerness that made him whine when he thought your mind was straying from his words.

“Darling, are you listening to me?” he would say as you played with some geared models he set out for you to see.

“Yes Viktor, I swear!”

He would always chuckle and nod, either continuing to explain or instead staying silent, moving to stand behind you.

Your knees and mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut.

Burnt toast, coffee, metal.

Heavy pants filled the silence of the room.

You could almost feel the way his hand would slide over yours as you played with the model, long nimble fingers gliding over your skin.

You would gasp, hand stilling until he began to move it, guiding it with his own.“Here, let me show you… This is how you use it,” he would murmur, warm breath hitting your skin. It was so hard to suppress the shiver he gave you, no longer able to focus on the way he would turn the model the other way, guiding your fingers to press against a gear, turning it in a slow circle to get it working.

Your breathing hitched, hand moving in the way he showed you how.

His hand would speed up, moving away to let you try it. The gears then began to move on their own, prompting you to move your own hand away, watching the model with an excited smile.

The swelling pleasure in your belly grew, making the smooth movements of your hand become erratic, unable to keep a steady pace.

“V-Viktor,” you breathed, hips bucking into the air.

You could imagine it, the way he spoke so smoothly to you, an air of calm to it as if he was speaking to a frightened animal, “Yes, my darling?”

“L-like this?” you croaked, fingers dipping to press against your sopping hole, feeling it drool onto your fingers.

“Yes, exactly like that… you're doing so good…”

Your breaths grew more and more ragged, shivering as you chased your climax. It was so close, making your head fall back onto the sheets, fabric clutched to your nose, using it to run it up and down your body.

Burnt toast, coffee, metal.

“S-so… close…” you whispered.

Then you heard it.

A whisper.

You stilled, eyes snapping open and wide in terror.

You didn’t breathe, you didn’t move.

‘Go to her’, it whispered once more, a feminine voice you couldn’t make out, too low for you to distinguish.

But you could hear staggered steps, moving.

You knew you were hidden from view, allowing you an advantage, but this person was moving toward you, slowly but steadily.

You were frozen in place.

Did they come to rob you? Had you even locked your front door when you came in?

But you had no time to think, you were sitting here unarmed and vulnerable.

Gathering yourself, you sat up in bed, careful to avoid making noise as you peaked above the furniture that hid you, seeing a cloaked figure moving in the dark. You saw nothing, just them staggering. They didn’t seem to be here to steal, brushing past your things without a second glance.

You prayed to anyone who could hear you that it was just some weary soul needing to rest.

But right before you looked away, you saw it.

You saw the glow.

A faint blue-purple glow of footsteps that led toward you.

You swallowed, curling back and into yourself as your eyes trailed the faint humming glow of these footsteps, the way they led right to the foot of your bed.

The cloaked and hooded figure approached, moving around what hid you to stand at the edge of your bed, looking right at you.

Then you smelled it.

Burnt toast, coffee, metal, and… something… more.

Your breath hitched as a bony hand reached up and out, moving toward your face.

You flinched, squeezing your eyes shut as it moved. You didn't see the way it hesitated, pausing right before the warmth of your cheek.

“My darling…” They whispered, voice rumbling in a way that made your eyes snap open and body instantly and unconsciously sag, “Am i that scary?”

You gasped, shaking as you made out the iridescent eyes that traced over your sunken cheeks and eyes with dark bags underneath.

“Oh my darling…” he murmured, fingertips finally pressing against your cheeks.

He was cold, but somehow warmth thrummed through him like… machinery.

His thumb traced underneath your eye, gently, “Have you been suffering because… of me?”

You said nothing, pinned to the spot underneath his gaze.

You tried to say something, but nothing came out. Your mouth only opened and closed, silence emitting from it instead.

His gaze swept over you, making a shiver go down your spine as you sat there. His gaze stilled, eyes widening ever so slightly as he followed your hands. He paused and, after a beat of silence, he spoke up.

“Here… let me show you.”

Burnt toast, coffee, metal, and something indescribable.

The hand cupping your cheeks trailed down to your jaw, tilting it upward to look at him as he shifted to sit in front of you, the overwhelming scent of Him invading your senses.

His other hand moved, gently wrapping itself around your wrist, feeling the warmth of your skin underneath his own. He then slid in, over and down underneath the waistband of your clothes and to your soaked fingers.

You could only stare into the pools of opal that peered into your soul.

A gasp wormed its way out of your mouth as his fingers pressed against you, index tracing around your throbbing clit to your clenching hole. He moved in circles, teasing you by pressing his longest finger just against your entrance before pulling back, moving to press a tiny bit deeper with every movement.

You felt yourself instantly relax, unable to help yourself as the familiar face of Viktor stared at you, eyes softening as he saw the panic melt away.

“V-Viktor i…” you breathed, “You… d-”

“I'm supposed to be dead… I know…” he whispered.

His finger pressed in, making you groan softly as it moved against your warm walls, carefully pressing to find that spongy bit inside of you. He was always so calculated, even now as his gaze focused on your face, tracking every miniscule movement like the way your pupils dilated when you saw him, the way your breathing picked up when his thumb brushed against your clit, and the way your lips parted when his fingers curled.

“But I'm here now, my darling… you don't have to worry anymore… I just want you to come back with me.”

His voice made your eyes struggle to keep open, soft moans filling the once empty room. You were drunk off him, drunk off the way his fingers moved so deliciously deliberate, stimulating you in multiple ways and making you melt.

“Viktor…?” you sighed, barely registering what he said.

“Yes?” Viktor whispered, leaning to press his forehead against your own.

It sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body, tingling with a purple glow over your skin.

“I…” gasping for air was all you could do, the overwhelming sensation flowing through your veins as his thumb pressed against your clit, fingers curling in and out of you. You were so close again.

“More?” He murmured, voice soft.

Your eyes could barely hold his gaze, “N-need you…”

“Like I always needed you?”

You moaned out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you shook, the pleasure reaching its peak.

“Cum for me… come with me.” he murmured, lips brushing against your own.

He swallowed your moans as you cried out his name, body shaking. His hand on your jaw held you in place, continuing to move his fingers in you and on your clit, your hand wrapped around his wrist as he did so, the other still clutched onto his red tie.

Pure, white, hot, pleasure stole your vision and voice, making you see visions of a future where you and your people would never have to suffer anymore, not with someone like Viktor to lead them.

As you came down, body heaving and shaking, he carefully moved his hand off your core before wrapping your weak body with his lapis blue cloak, pressing you against him. Your head lolled, slotting against his neck, smelling the scent of burnt toast, coffee, metal, and something… something otherworldly.

“Come with me.” He whispered, “I need you.”

“I will.” You whispered, this time not hesitating.

#arcane #viktor x reader arcane #viktor x reader #arcane season 2 #arcane league of legends #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #arcane viktor #arcane s2 #arcane season two

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lethalchiralium · 18 days ago

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Waiting Room | Happiness Series

a/n: yes, i’m posting twice in the same month! crazy lol (always thanking my lovely @as-is-above-so-below for editing)

warnings: mentions of kidnapping, medical stuff, injuries, simon spiraling

The ICU is bare at this time of night. There are no alarms for nurses to attend to, and the lights are dimmed. The doors shut, and meal trays were taken away hours ago. Triangle lights above the doors are filled in with red or green lights. The only sound in the corridor is of boots thumping against the floor.

Calloused hands gripped the nurse’s counter. Your name prattled quickly off his tongue with a question of where you were. A room named off, and he was already out of sight, running and escaping the nurse calling him to come back. When he reached your room, his hand didn’t tremble as it did the whole way to the hospital. He calmly and slowly pushed the door open.

All he saw was no bed, and John Price sitting on the couch below the window, hunched over and murmuring into the phone against his ear. He looked up and ended the call, standing quickly to walk towards him.

“Simon-”

“Where is she?”

“Still in surgery.”

“What the fuck happened?”

Price stiffened slightly, and the air between them suddenly stifled. Simon’s dry eyes stared him down, and Price could feel his failure crushing him. He promised to keep them safe and sound, yet here they were, barely thirty minutes into emergency surgery before your husband arrived.

“According to Laswell, she made them take Winnie to the park–her and Roach. She was home with Mel and König when they were ambushed.hey shot him, and took the girls.” He looked down at his phone, then pulled up the pictures of the damage to his front entrance–showing them to Simon. “…Your father took them to a cabin in the Lakes District witht he intention of selling her and Melody to traffickers, in a bid to exploit you for money.”

His heart began to race, hard, like a hammer against museum glass. Shattering it into his ribcage, the thumps of his lungs against his liver and spine like an out-of-control wave.

“She escaped with Melody, and uh… well.” Price swiped, and Simon was met with a caved-in face. But, he picked out the silvery scars on his father’s forehead from when he beat him himself, many years ago. “She beat the shit out of him.”

“Is he dead?”

“He is.”

Pride would be the word he was looking for, if not for how intense the injuries were to his father’s face. Your hands must be mush. “Good.”

“She was found in a valley. She tucked Melody in a dense fir tree; she has some scrapes and bruises, and was freezing to the touch, but we found her. She was calling for your wife.” Price slid the phone into his pocket, settling back on his heels. “Only reason we found them was because she was crying. She’s upstairs in the NICU; Laswell and Roach are there with Winnie, whenever you’re ready to see them.”

“Okay.”

Yet, he made no hurry to move from his spot, hovering in the center of the near-empty ICU room, the space left for your bed, the machines that would be attached to you, and the fear that would radiate off of you and permeate the silence like no other sound. Could he leave this spot to check on his children? Could he escape the betrayal he indirectly caused when he failed to protect you? Would he be able to pretend that he isn’t full of rage for his superiors, barring him from keeping his promise? But, should he be able to stay upset with Price, his closest friend, in finding and saving his wife and child?

Could, would, should. All words with no meaning without action.

Simon’s eyes met John’s, and a brief silence fell upon them.

“Go see the girls, Simon.”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation, “I can’t.”

John didn’t even breathe before speaking again, “Then stay. I will go sit with them.” He quickly ushered Simon into the chair he had occupied only moments before. Simon practically collapsed into it. His head in his hands, heart torn into shreds of silken fabric, drowning in a sea of despair. The thin plastic chair would do nothing to soothe his aching bones, his body a fresh arrival from London to base an hour ago. Never did he imagine he would have to rush home, in the midst of a panic attack over losing you the way he lost Grace, losing another unborn baby, and his infant. He didn’t dare pretend like he could hold this weight, the fear, the panic, the imagination of the sound of your screams.

There, in the white chair after thirty-six hours of being awake, he watched John leave him alone. And there, leaned over his knees, he let out whimpers that sounded much like the ones that escaped him as a child.

He didn’t wake again until he heard a collection of clicking. His arms tightened across his chest as he heard footsteps fade away. He rolled his head up before opening his eyes - all he saw was the hospital bed, and your figure covered by thick blankets, nodes pressed onto your forehead like thorns on a rose, a breathing tube taped to your chapped lips, and a level of calm on your face that he’d seen only a few times. The sound of the chair screeching across the floor, closer to the bed, closer to the iodine smell that permeated the room from you. His hand slipped under the warming blankets, lifting it to seek out your arm, gazing at the wrapping on your hand before he settled his own on the undamaged skin of your forearm. Covering you again, he silently thanked the nurse for keeping the bed rail tucked away. He leaned forward and settled his head against his arm - listening to the soft wheeze of the breathing machine.

His mind was void of words, but his tongue spoke from the root of his pain, just a gentle, “I failed you.”

In the dim light from above the bed, Simon’s thumb traced warm circles on your lukewarm skin, and he closed his eyes. He couldn’t remember before he left for the hospital, couldn’t remember the mission, only…emptiness. An overwhelming urge to vomit ichor into his lap as he sped through red lights. A softened part inside his stone-cold heart rotted, black like tar, gooey and burning every inch of his injured rib cage.

His lungs filling with warm breaths, fighting to ignore the iodine stench only found him asleep again, body hunched over as if to find some solace in protecting you now - when the void of his betrayal burned harsher than the dance of bourbon on his tongue.

Simon doesn’t greet your brother, and doesn’t dare move his temple from the blanket tucked beside his head, eyes glued to the TV in the dusty corner of the room. Below it hung a whiteboard detailing your name, age, gender, and nurses. Following that was a rotation with the times they would be by for checks, medication, replacing the cold blankets with warm ones, and moving you so bed sores don’t grow on your already fragile skin. The BBC show wasn’t anything interesting, not his favorite but something to do that wasn’t throwing up what little breakfast he had into the trash can.

He’d been visiting Mellie the morning before, brought in by Price after she was discharged. Her one-day hospital stay was officially over, and he had finally seen her - but guilt nestled in his esophagus as he pressed his nose into her scalp, her little body curled as far as it could into his chest. He would have been a better father to tend to her first, but the thought of losing you was more apocalyptic than he ever imagined. He couldn’t leave this room, could barely piss in the bathroom without the door open to keep an eye on you, and barely spoke to anyone who came in; whether it be a nurse or the task force, they were all given silence in exchange for their pleas for him to go home, take a shower, get a fresh set of clothes.

“You smell like shit, dude.”

Jake, your older brother, moved a chair beside Simon on his right, his hand gently patting your ankle as he sat. Your husband may have snapped at him if he wasn't absent from his mind. Simon was nestled in a deep corner of his consciousness, only pretending to be human for his friends and children as he rotted beside you.

He didn’t answer his brother-in-law, eyes flickering from character to character on the screen, as if that was a good-enough distraction from his painful thoughts.

“That Soap guy said you haven’t showered in four days. You smell like it, go take a shower.”

Simon huffed out a humorless chuckle. “Not leavin’ her.”

Jake paused for a moment, pensive for just a millisecond. “The bathroom is right there. Yes, she’s protected at all times with you here, but she’s safe when I’m here too. So go. I’m sure she wouldn’t want to smell your ass when she wakes up.”

“Fuck off, Jake.”

“You have to at least wipe down if I’m going to sit next to you. You reek.”

“Then don’t.”

“Not a chance, bud.”

A gentle but firm hand settled on Simon’s shoulder, and he barely reacted, only a rumble of disapproval from his throat. He wanted to wretch his shoulder backwards, get Jake’s hand off, scream at him, ask him what makes him think he’s right. Ask what made him think he truly knew the answer to Simon’s mistake, miscalculation, the broken promise that lay like glass at his feet. What makes him think that Simon could accept his help at all?

He would’ve fought his brother-in-law off if there was any point, but he had been sitting at your bedside for two days straight and you hadn’t woken up yet - even when they shined lights in your pupils, checked your wounded hand, adjusted nodes on your forehead, checked the back of your head. So Simon found himself standing, Jake’s hands ushering him to the bathroom, but he slammed his hand against the door when Jake tried to close it.

“Leave it open. Wanna see her.”

Jake didn’t make a sound, just gave an understanding nod. “Try to use the curtain. I’d like to avoid seeing your dick, and I’m sure the nurses would appreciate it.”

Simon doesn’t even remember keeping the curtain open, getting under the hot spray, and just… standing there. The water hit the crown of his head, spilling down and over his face, his chest, his stomach - his body ached from the lowest muscles in his calves to the tenderness nestled in the nape of his neck, yet he could feel nothing in between. No tremor of his lungs, no twitch in his bad knee, no rumble of his heartbeat. Even as the scalding water cascaded over his lips, eyes, and cheeks, he felt nothing. No prick in his eye to cry, as if he had already cried everything out and had nothing left to give.

There was nothing in this hospital room shower, just a shell of a man who wanted nothing more than to switch places with you.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Mess with her hair.”

The wrapping around your head was changed this morning, leaving more of your hair visible, and Jake was combing it with the shitty brush he bought down at the gift shop. “She always had a thing for her hair to be untangled. It bothered her a lot as a kid.” He set the brush down by your side, his fingers quickly remembering the braiding motion as he continued to speak softly, “Learned how to braid on her dolls so I could braid her hair for her. She didn’t like Mom or Dad doing it, only me.”

Simon rested his head on his arm again, watching the morning news. “Looks like shit.”

“I’m out of practice. Like you could do any better.”

“I have two daughters. I can do better.”

Jake could only half chuckle, almost lifeless. For a few moments, the only sounds were the breathing machine, the rustle of your hair, and footsteps approaching the door. Simon raised his head, watching over you like a hawk as the door creaked open; his hackles relaxed instantly as Winnie bounded in, followed by Price, who held Mellie. Simon was quick to sit back, allow his child to climb into his lap, and bury her face in his neck - he cradled Winnie close, kissing her hair and reclining back.

Her hair was in a messy ponytail, curls unruly and Simon felt acidic bile creep up his throat when she started crying.

She couldn’t say a word; neither could he, when he truly needed to. He needed to comfort his daughters, tell them that everything would be okay, that the doctors are taking care of Mama. He should be taking accountability with his children for failing to uphold his promises, yet, he kept his lips pressed to his eldest’s hair. His hand rubbed light circles on her shoulder blade, his eyes flickering to his brother-in-law and then his brother-in-arms. His infant was curled identically into Price’s chest, her little fists grabbing at the worn Metallica shirt, curls finger-brushed, onesie covered by a thick coat. Simon’s eyes fell back to you, the braid settled against your shoulder as Jake moved to the side, gently rubbing your bicep for a moment.

“You know, it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to take care of her hair,” Jake mumbled. Simon didn’t miss the tears that rimmed the man’s eyes.

Simon didn’t make a sound, listening to his daughter’s sniffling as Price spoke, “She’s been taking care of everyone but herself, and we will keep taking care of her.”

Winnie whimpered; Simon kissed her hair again, keeping her close for as long as she’d let him.

12:39 am. Simon could barely make the time out from across the room. The heel of his hand rubbed into his eye, and he flipped up his phone, squinting to see the date. Four days. Four days since you were rushed here, four days since he hasn’t left you alone. A sigh settled deep in his bones as he let his phone fall, his tingling hand gently rubbing your forearm before he leaned up, wiping his face. He flicked the crust from his eye away, turning to look at you before laying his head down again.

His eyes fluttered closed, his stomach churning just a little before he settled again. His chest weighed like a bell, his heart laying limp in the comfort of his cushioning lungs, his mind wandering, pondering whether he would ever see your eyes again-

He sat up instantly; your eyes were staring at him, wide, almost painful. The look made his stomach roar, his hackles raised, eyebrow furrowed, eyes full of tears and concern.

“Sweetheart, it’s me, it’s okay-”

An alarm blared from your heart monitor, and the call button you rapidly pressed with your less injured hand. Simon’s heart clenched as your tears mirrored his, and the sound of you choking on the breathing tube made his stomach acid toss like salad dressing. He stood, and you flinched; he knew what was happening. He scrambled away, found the switch for the blinding overhead light, and flipped it before he moved to you again. The flood of tears in his eyes made it hard to see you recognize him, but you did. You reached for him as the door burst open - making you jerk again, a whine-like cry escaping your throat.

You thought he was Lloyd.

Simon couldn’t blame you. He spent years breaking mirrors because he looked like his father, his abuser.

He stumbled back, his wrist to his nose as nurses flooded your bedside, his eyes never leaving you. The nurse closest to him helped remove the breathing tube while the other injected something into your IV, and the last furiously typed on the computer. Simon could only keep himself a few steps away, listening to the sound of your whimpers and watching your weak attempts to move away from the help. His nails met his teeth, the quick already bloodied as he had chewed them down two nights ago. The emptiness in his chest had surged as if it was a flood, knocking his respiratory system around like a ping-pong ball against his ribcage. He couldn’t breathe, his heart felt as if it was beating so fast that it would catch fire, the tears leaking into his mouth were like acid.

Of course, you would think he’s Lloyd, the man humorlessly chuckling in his clouded head. Simon looked so much like him that they could be considered brothers, not father and son.

A deep part of him knew this would happen. The one thing Simon fought the hardest to protect was an easy domino to fall, the most direct way to get Simon’s attention, hit him where it could and would hurt the most. He’s kneeling and bleeding, his heart pouring blood as he has to watch his wife cry out when a nurse even grazes her skin.

Simon would be lying if he said he could handle this.

He doesn’t get frustrated with you when you turn your face a little to the left when he brings the spoon to your lips. He put it back into the ceramic bowl as he softly sighed to himself. You’ve barely eaten all morning since they took out the breathing tube, visiting hours are almost starting and Jake would be here, asking a million questions that Simon would need to answer. If the best you could do was five half spoonfuls of broth, it would have to do. He pushed the rolling table away, moving the blankets farther up on your abdomen and tucking it close to your body. Your gaze felt like knives on him, he was barely strong enough to look at your face when the profound sense of guilt only seemed to take his words. He refused to be upset with you when your hand touched his, even though he felt like he needed to rip his skin off.

Your thumb brushed over his bruised knuckles as he kept his hand settled on your hip, staring at the minute gesture that meant so much before, but now… felt bitter. Simon would have thrown up again, recognizing the way your comfort now felt painful.

“You gotta eat more later.” He mumbled, hunched over your bed, wanting to rip his hand from yours but also needing it to stay there. “You need to sleep too, you have to be tired- Ow!”

He looked up at your face, ignoring the dark bruise on your throat, to see just a little smirk. You had pinched his hand, and he furrowed his brows, confused.

“Was that funny?”

A tiny movement like a nod, and he huffed out a flat laugh. His free hand raised a little, in your vision, before slowly moving to settle on your face. He hovered his thumb along the bruise on your cheekbone, his fingers cradled your jaw like porcelain. Your head only moved into him, eyes never moving from him. He wasn’t sure you’d ever be able to look at him like Simon again, after your reaction a couple hours ago. He wouldn’t blame you at all if you couldn’t. He wouldn’t blame you if you left him after this, take the girls and move far, far away from him and everything that came with him - enemies, lies, pain. He wasn’t even sure how safe you were now and that killed him, destroyed his sense of safety and replaced it with so much fear.

“Mel…ody.”

Simon snapped back into reality where your eyes were narrowed slightly staring at him, and he instantly answered. “She’s safe. Just some bruising, she’s home with Jake and Price and Soap.”

Relief washed over your face, your head settled back on the pillow as your gaze finally moved to the ceiling. It’s at times like this where he wished he struggled to know what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking. But, he could read you like an open book.

“You did good,” He spoke, your name escaping like the prayer he needed days ago, “Our baby is safe. Mellie’s okay.”

You pinched him again before you looked back at him, and he let his thumb lightly graze your bruise, you didn’t even flinch.

“New one’s okay too.”

A whine escaped your throat, tears instantly falling from your face as relief washed over it. He patted your hip.

“You did good, Mama. Did really fuckin’ good.”

#lethalchiralium #happiness series #lethal chiralium #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x wife!reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader

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samandcolbyownme · 6 months ago

Text

Summary: full one shot based off of this snippet - I added more details to this one.

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, fighter!Jake, fighting, mentions of blood, cuts, bruises, punching, kicking, kissing, alcohol consumption, hair pulling, tiny bit of blood play, biting, scratching, unprotected sex, filth

Word count: 5.3k | not edited

Y/n’s outfit did this fic - here

You stared down at the ticket in your hand, leg bouncing up and down as a raging pace as you wait, very impatiently for your plane to finally be ready.

You wanted to get out of there, your hometown was nothing but stress and tears. You thought that coming home for a little would help things - but in reality, it only made them worse.

Made you want to leave and never look back.

And that’s what you did.

You felt full relief inching closer and closer, but you knew you weren’t going to fully get that until you were on that plane, on your way to LA.

“Now boarding flight number 225 to Los Angeles…”

You glance down at your ticket and jump up, tossing your bag strap onto your shoulder as you wheel your slightly beat up suitcase behind you.

——

As you unbuckle your seat belt, you glance out of the window, smiling as you see the sun shining down on the new world outside.

You stood up, grabbed your bag and waited as patiently as you could to get off of the plane.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you looked around for options on how to get yourself away from this airport. There was a small strip of places that looked alive and open.

You walked into a place called, The Night Owl - fitting, considering it’s almost midnight.

You look around, sighing at the dead energy inside the bar. You give the older bartender a small smile as you walk up to the bar, setting your bag down on the seat next to the one you take for yourself, “Can I get a glass of wine please.”

He raises his brows, “Any particular kind?”

You shake your head, “A good one.” You laugh weakly and he nods, giving you small smile, “Coming right up.”

You look around, nothing really catching your attention, which is boring, to say the least.

You let out a sigh as you turn back around, reaching out to take the glass immediately after the bartender sets it down, “Thank you.”

“Eight dollars whenever you’re ready.”

You nod, digging into your purse. You lay a ten down, “I don’t need change.”

“Thank you.” He nods and as soon as you go to take a sip, some guy slides in between your hair and the one your bag isn’t on, “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

You instantly regretted coming in here.

“Just waiting on a friend.” You lie, trying to just get him off your back.

“Ah, okay. So one time thing, then yeah? Do you live around here?” He continues to pry and you let out a sigh, “Those are some pretty deep questions for someone I don’t even know the name of.”

He stares at you for a few seconds, “Oh shit. Sorry, I was just so caught up in your beautiful-“

“I’m not going home with you.”

He nods, “Straight to it, alright.” He takes a swig of his beer as he walks away and you can’t help but laugh when his friends boo him.

Probably the highlight of the night.

——

You finish your second glass of wine and Mel, the bartender, comes back over, “Can I get you one more before I start closing up?”

You tilt your head, “Just put a little blackberry bourbon in a glass for me.”

He nods, “You got it.”

As you wait for your drink to arrive, you pull your phone out, hoping there’s a slight chance it would turn on.

But no luck.

You sigh, tossing it into your purse as Mel sets the clear glass down in front of you.

“Thank you.” You gave Mel a smile before digging in your purse.

He nods and you lay a twenty down, “Keep the change, Mell.” He smile, “Thank you, y/n.” You nod and look down at your drink, mind racing about why you decided to move to L.A.

Why did I come here? Because you couldn’t be around your family any longer.

Do I have a reason to be here? Because you need to grow.

Can I really fit in and-

“This seat taken?” A deep voice pulls you from your thoughts and you look up, slowly turning your head.

A, very tall, guy with a beanie covering his black choppy looking hair, stands there with a small smile on his lips.

He was fairly cute, you couldn’t lie, so you shake your head, “Not at all.” You smile and sit up, turning towards him slightly as he sits down.

“I’m Jake.” He holds his hand out and you look down, shocked when you see his busted up and bruised hand, “Um.” You tilt your head as you take his hand, “Y/n.”

You couldn’t lie, your heart started pounding a little harder when your eyes were met with his bruised knuckles.

It wasn’t something you were really expecting to see right off the bat, but you still felt - safe.

You look up at him and a smile spreads across his have as you speak, “I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Are you okay? Do you need like medical attention or something?”

He shakes his head, taking a sip of his drink, “Nah, nah. I’m alright, sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat and you can feel your cheeks growing redder.

“Thank you for asking.” He smiles and you nod, “I mean, if you say so.” You laugh slightly, eyes moving back down to fixate on your freshly manicured hand in his.

The deep colored bruising and the dark red scabs not only intrigued you in a, what do you do on a daily basis kind of way, but also in a wow nothing has ever turned you on like this before way, too.

“You can ask.” Jake’s voice causes your eyes to snap up to his, “what?”

He chuckles, sipping on his drink, “I said. You can ask.”

“Uh, ask what?” You play dumb and Jake squeezes your fingers that are still lingering on his palm. He leans in and his eyes move from your lips to your eyes, “Ask me what I do to make my hands look like this.”

You felt your stomach flip and you tilt your head slightly as your eyes move between his.

A slight smirk plays with your lips, “Tell me, Jake.” You circle his palm with your fingers slowly, “What do you do to get your hands all beat up like this?”

Jake looks up at the clock, “Actually, come with me.”

Usually, a guy telling a girl he just met to, come with me, would usually raise red flags, but you’ve basically held Jake’s hand the whole time have been sitting here chatting.

Jake, as already said, and still as weird as it sounds, makes you feel safe, so you had no problem following him to his car.

“Here. You can put your bags in there for now.” You nod as you watch him open the back door. You nod and toss your duffle in before Jake lifts your suitcase and lays it on the seat, “Alright.” He closes the door and holds his hand out, “Follow me.”

You take his hand, waking with him around the building of the bar you were just in, “Where are we going?” You ask as you walk under Jake’s arm.

He turns, arm still on the door, a smirk on his lips as you look back at him, “You scared, darlin’?”

A smirk grows on your lips as you shake your head, “No. I trust you.”

He nods, taking your hand into his again, “Atta girl.”

You smile to yourself as you look around once you reach the bottom of the long staircase, “What is this place? Looks like an old subway station.” Your eyes fall to him as he stops and you can hear faint shouting and chanting coming from, somewhere.

Jake reaches for the handle of the old door, “You’re good.” Your eyes watch as his busted up and ring cladded fingers wrap around the handle, “And this..” he opens the door, “..Is how my hands get all fucked up.”

You raise your brows and he nods towards the open door, “Just stay with me. You’ll be good.”

You walk in and the shouting grows louder the further into the green lit room you go. Jake walks you up to a balcony and your eyes scan down over the scene below you, taking in what you’re actually witnessing.

You take a sharp breath as the one guy below in a ring formed by the, what you can only assume is, members, takes a bad punch to the jaw.

“Knocked out.” Jake says in a low voice as he leans in towards you. You smile slightly, “So what..” you bite your lip and look up at him, “You fight for a living?”

Jake turns around, crossing his arms as he puts an unlit cigarette in between his lips, “You can say that.”

“I know he’s here!” A guy, who is very angry, yells which catches both of your attentions. You lean over and Jake stops you from going any further by putting his hand flat on your chest.

You look from Jake, back down to the pit below you, and see a guy spinning around slowly, looking at each crowd member in the face, “Webber. Where the fuck you at, brother?”

You look over at Jake who shakes his head laughing, “I knew he’d show up sooner or later.” Jake flicks the ash off of his cigarette.

“Is he looking for you?” You ask as your brows shoot upward. Jake nods, “Uh huh.” He lets out an exaggerated sigh and holds the burning cigarette between his lips as he starts to take his rings off.

He extends his hand out to you, “Can you be a doll and hold these for me, please?”

You nod, looking down to your hand as you bring it up and open it, allowing him to drop his collection of rings into your palm.

He flashes you a smile, “Thanks, now stay close to me on the way down and at the front of the ring when I’m in it, got it?.”

You give him a few nods as you stuff his rings into your pocket before quickly taking his hand, following him down a rickety looking spiral staircase.

Everyone looks towards you and Jake. Their eyes moving between the two of you, and right now. In this moment, you have never felt so out of place somewhere - and your cream colored cardigan was surely bound to make you stick out like a sore thumb.

Jake pulls you through the crowd, his grip tight on your body. You did feel super safe with him, especially now with knowing he can actually fight. You stop as you get to the opening and Jake shrugs off his jacket, “Heard you were lookin’ for me.”

Your eyes scan up and down his back. His tattoos, scars, fresh and old bruises moving with his muscles.

You take his jacket as he extends his arm back, almost like muscle memory. The guy cracks his knuckles and then lifts his hand to his chin, “Wanted to take a crack at knocking you down from your rankin’ a lil bit.”

You were interested to know what Jake’s rank was.

He cracks his neck and Jake puts his hand to his ear, “And what rank would that be?”

The guy across from him laughs, “I’m here to remove your title as undefeated champion, Mr. Jake Webber.”

Undefeated champion.. You feel your heart beat harder when you hear the words roar off his tongue. Your breath gets caught in your throat.

You were the safest person in this room.

Jake slips his shirt off over his head, you also take that and drape it over his jacket. Jake quickly stretches his arms a few times and shrugs, “Let’s see you try.”

He motions with his hand, “Bring it, big boy.”

Even though you were smiling behind your fingers, you were nervously chewing on your nails, too. You just met this guy and if he gets hurt, it’s like you’d be able to feel the pain, too.

The guy wasn’t any bigger than Jake, though. Well, ego wise, definitely.

Jake looked back at you, giving you a wink before looking back at the guy walking over to him, fists balled and ready to swing.

You hold your breath as you wait for the first punch to be thrown.

Jake moves, getting them to walk in a circle, getting the crowd amped up right before the guy swings on Jake, groaning in frustration when Jake dodges it.

The longer you stood there, watching it all play out, the more you felt like you belonged there, and walking in with Jake really seemed to help that - hell, especially now with knowing he’s an undefeated champ and all.

Jake swings, popping the guy in his jaw and he laughs, “I think you have the theater and the ring mixed up, there pal.” Jake shoots, cocking his head, “I’m here to fight, not dance.”

The guy lets out a loud yell as he runs towards Jake, and you gasp as Jake’s back meets the dark, blood stained concrete below him.

The guy pulls his arm back just to swing but Jake quickly manages to escape and get two punches to his face before scurrying to stand up.

You were impressed, absolutely mesmerized with seeing Jake like this. The sweat glistening off his body in the glowing green lights.

The way he can take more than a punch and not bat an eye, fuck. You practically had to wipe the drool off of your chin before anyone noticed.

“Come on, Jake.” You mumble to yourself, bouncing up and down in your spot. Jake’s head snaps to the left as he eats another punch, his cheek busted open slightly, but not as bad as the other guys. Yet.

Your lip is pulled tightly between your teeth, biting down harder each time Jake gets hit. Your eyes watch as he stumbles back, falling at your feet.

Before you can bend down to try and help him, he’s already halfway up your body.

You knew what was coming, as he drug his face up extremely really close to yours.

Your heart is beating at a high rate speed. His lips press to yours, giving you a sloppy, but still the hottest kiss you’ve ever received in your life, before he pulls away, a cocky smirk on his face.

The crowd goes absolutely mad, but you ignore that as you hold your stare on Jake. Focusing on him to get yet, another win.

You were also too into watching him completely obliterate this prick, to realize that Jake’s blood was smeared on to your face now, too.

“Alright. Alright.” A guy goes out, pulling Jake off of the weakened figure lying on the ground. Jake stands up, turning out and holding his arm up.

The crowd goes absolutely wild.

And so do you.

The arm that isn’t holding his jacket gets thrown into the air as you jump up and down smiling at the people around you.

You were so proud of him, and he noticed that right away.

Jake looks around for a second before locking his eyes onto you again. He smirks and nods his head, cocking his jaw as he snatches the money from the guy’s hand and immediately walks over to you.

“That was so ho-“

He cuts you off as he pulls you into him, his arms going around your waist to lift you up off the ground as his lips meet yours.

You don’t even cringe at the new blood mixing with the dried blood on your face,

“C’mon.” Jake sets you down on your feet, arm still around your body, “Let’s get out of here.”

He leads you up the steps and back out into the hall, immediately pressing your back against the old brick wall. His hands cup your cheeks, thumb smearing his blood over your skin, “You look so pretty with my blood on your face.”

You smile and lick your lips, “Sorry for being so blunt but you are incredibly, fucking hot.”

He pulls you in and kisses over your cheek to your lips, “I hope you don’t have any plans tonight, because you’re coming home with me.”

You rest your head back against the wall and bite your lip, “As a matter of fact, my schedule is free.”

He smiles down at you, “Good.” He steps back pulling the dented pack of cigarettes from his pocket, offering you one before taking one for himself.

“Sure.” You smile, “I can get you a n-“

“No need.” He lifts the lighter and you inhale as the end starts to burn. You close your eyes, feeling the buzz from the nicotine do its thing.

“Come on.” He extends his hand out, waiting for you to take it before he behind leading you towards the exit door. He holds it open, his head moving as he watches you walk by him and he’s immediately back to holding you against him as he walks you back around the bar to his car.

“You sure you want to come home with me?” Jake asks as he opens his car door. You look up at him, “I promise, me falling for a serial killer wouldn’t be the absolute worst thing to happen to me.”

“That’s.. actually..” Jake laughs slightly, “I’m sorry?”

You laugh, shaking your head, “That’s a story for another time.” You go to get in the car but stop, looking back up at him, “If I even make it that long.”

Jake laughs, rolling his eyes as he sighs, “Only time will tell.” He laughs again as he shuts the door and jogs around to get in.

“So can I ask about.. that..” you motion to where you walked from and Jake nods, “Of course. What do you want to know, sweetheart?”

Jake starts driving and you purse your lips, “How do you know when you’re done fighting, like does it have to end in a knockout, or whatever?”

Jake reaches over and your hand instantly moves to interlock your fingers with his, “So basically..” he chuckles slightly, “It’s not over until I win, but yeah. Most of the time it’s by knockout, or if your opponent taps out.”

“Have you had that happen?” You look over at him and he nods, “Oh yeah.” He laughs, “Plenty of times. Guys think they’re all big and bad until they realize they can bark but they can’t bite for shit.”

“Aren’t you scared?” You ask, quieter than the last and he looks over at you for a few seconds before looking back onto the headlight lit road, “Of what?”

You shrug, “I don’t know. Can’t you die doing that?”

“You can die doing anything, y/n.” Jake chuckles, waiting a few seconds before he continues, “I mean, I was at first.. I guess?”

He shrugs, “My first fight.” He clicks his tongue, “I remember this clear as fucking day. My friend told me about this underground fight club that his friend took him to, and you need to know people to get in to this, right?”

You nod, smiling at the excitement in his tone, “Next thing I know, Colby is pushing me into this ring and I come out two hundred dollars richer. So I started working out, boxing mainly just so I can stay in shape with this.”

“I mean.” You shrug, biting down on your lip, “The way you held onto that..” You furrow your brows, “Oh what is it?”

He looks over at you confused and you smirk as you squeeze his hand with each word, “Undefeated champion?”

He smirks and shakes his head, smiling big as he pulls into the parking stall, “Oh..Did I forget to mention that?” He looks over at you and you nod, “I mean, I guess I can let it slide.”

“Yeah?” Jake asks tilting his head.

You smirk over at him, unbuckling your seatbelt before you lean in, “Yeah.”

Jake’s seatbelt is undone and he’s closing the space between you with his hands on your cheeks and lips on yours.

You moan lowly against his lips and push yourself up off the seat to lean more into him.

Jake slides his hands over your shoulders and down your arms, “Mm, alright. Come on. I need to wash this off.” He nods down towards his hands as he leans back.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look at your cheek, too.”

Jake stares at you for a few seconds and your brow twitches, “Is that.. did I cross a line?”

He shakes his head, hand reaching over to gently cup your face, “No, not at all.” His thumb gently brushes over the dried red marks, “Just never had anyone who cared about me like that.”

You lay your hand on his wrist, patting gently, “Well, you’re giving me a place to stay tonight, so I feel like if I can help out in anyway-“

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” You laugh, looking up at him, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just, I basically left home without a trace, looking for somewhere no one knew what my name was.”

“So why did you tell me what it was, y/n?” Jake tries to fight back a smirk and you shrug, “I think I just knew I’d be safe with you.”

You were like a shot of espresso to Jake.

As soon as he seen you, he couldn’t shake this constant feeling that he needed to know you, and to say that he was shocked when you obliged to go with him on a random side quest in the middle of the night was an understatement.

“Y’know..” Jake says, hand still laying on your cheek, “That was my best fight, and I’ve been doing this for..” he blows out a breath of air, “Four years now?”

“Because of the guy calling you out?” You tilt your head into his hand more and Jake’s eyes immediately move to your face, voice low as he subtly shakes his head, “Because you were there.”

“Me?” You ask as if he was talking to someone else, which gets him to laugh, “Yes, sweetheart. You.”

You shift around in your seat, the more you sat here and just talked with Jake, you’re finding out all you need to know - and you weren’t leaving without him.

“Can we.. go inside.” You move your eyes to meet his and he nods, “Fuck yeah we can go inside. Hold on.”

He gets out, running around to open up the back door of his car to retrieve your luggage before moving to open up your door, “Okay, here we are.”

You smile up at him, shaking your head as you take his hand to get out of the car, “Thank you.”

He nods, “Silver key, top lock. I got these.” He motions to your bags and you just cannot stop smiling with him, “Okay.”

You take the keys from Jake’s hands, your fingers brushing against his and you feel that same adrenaline you felt back at the fight, starting to course through your veins.

You swallow, turning on your heel to walk up towards his door. Jake’s eyes were burning into your back, he knew there was something about you, just like there was something about him.

You push the door open, moving out of the way for Jake to go in but he stops, “Ladies first.”

You feel shy and giddy around him.

You’ve never felt this was with anyone. You always close everyone out, scared to let them in, but maybe you needed this change.

Maybe this change came with added bonuses, but you weren’t complaining, not anymore.

You walk in, turning around after finding the lights, to see what you can help Jake with, “Don’t your hands hurt, Jake?” Your eyes move from his face to his hands, “They look like they do.”

He shakes his head as he walks over to you, finger tilting your chin up so he can kiss you, “Mm fine, love. Okay.” His lips go back to pecking yours and you slide your hands up his chest, “Is this a one night stand?”

“This is whatever you want it to be, baby.” Jake kisses down your neck, “I just have this feeling like you’re supposed to be in my life.”

You lean back slightly, nodding as you look at him, “That’s how I feel.”

His hands slide down your sides before he gasps, “Oh shit.” He pulls your cardigan towards him, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I-“

“It’s okay. Do you have a washer?” You look up at him, not really worried about the blood. He nods and you smile, “Then I’ll just wash it later.”

You eye the mark on his cheek, but he kisses you to distract right before you can say anything about it.

He backs you up into the wall, his hands slipping under your t-shirt to grip the skin of your waist, “We don’t ha-“

“I want to.” You cut him off, quickly regaining his lips back onto yours. He bends down slightly, tapping the back of your thighs and you jump into his grasp.

He puts one hand on the wall while the other moves to your neck, gripping gently as his hips hold you up.

Your lips part as he slowly squeezes tighter, a moan slipping out as your eyes roll back.

Jake’s lips pepper your face in kisses before he releases his grip, “Bed then shower?”

“Yes.” You whimper out, “please.”

Jake smirks, setting you down on your feet so he can lead you up to his room. It would be a lie to say you made it there without your hands roaming each others bodies.

You were eager to see him shirtless again, the sight alone had you swimming in a pool of your own lust.

As soon as you’re in the room and the doors shut, clothes start flying off. Each of you taking turns to undress the other, getting to impatient so you revert to ripping your own clothes off.

Jake tackles you onto the bed, his lips trailing hungry kisses up and down your neck and over your collar bones, “you are so beautiful.”

You run your hands through his hair, just now realizing he managed to keep his beanie on the whole time he was fighting, “Wait.”

Jake looks up, a nervous look on his face and you smile as you shake your head, “No I still want to do that.” A look of relief washes over him as you laugh slightly, “I just realized that you kept your beanie on your whole fight.”

Jake laughs, “That’s because he hits like a bitch.” His eyes scan over your face, “I’m so glad you were there.”

You smile, “I’m glad I got the last flight to LA.”

He leans in, kissing your lips as you feel the tip of his cock rub the outside of your pussy, “Jake.” You slide your hand down, earning a gasp from him as you wrap your hand around his cock to guide it inside of you.

“Oh shit.” Jake groans, bucking his lips slightly which makes you dig your nails into his shoulders, “Fuck.”

You let out a whine as you dig your heels into his lower back, urging him to go all in, “P-please.”

You look up at him, his lips parted as he moves to brush hair from your face, “I need to just.. fuck you feel so good.” He moans against your lips, slowly pushing his cock into you more, “I’m going to ruin you in the best ways possible.”

You whimper at his words, “I trust you.”

You could tell by Jake’s delayed reaction that, I trust you, wasn’t something he heard often anymore. Which is true, he took everything anyone said anymore with a grain of salt.

Mainly the girls he actually tried to give the time of day to, but with you, it’s like he was told directly by the being that created you - you were his and he was yours.

“You don’t have to-“

Jake cuts you off, “I trust you, too.”

You smile, biting down on your lip when he shifts his hips slightly, “Shit.”

Jake’s hand returns to your throat, squeezing slowly as his hips start to move, “You feel so good.” His lips are right by your ear, his voice low, “Gonna make you mine.”

Your back arches up off the bed as he thrusts his cock into you, hard. A moan is ripped from your throat as your legs tighten around his waist.

His thrusts are hard, almost punishing.

But if Jake thinks you’re the least bit uncomfortable, he stops to make sure you’re okay, and you honestly loved that.

“You okay? You’re kinda starin’ up at me in a daze, babe.” Jake laughs slightly and you nod, “it’s your cheek, I think you opened up your cut again.”

Jake brings a hand to his cheek, thumb rubbing over the freshly leaked blood, “Mm.” He winces slightly, “These are always the worst ones for me.”

“Do you want-“

“No.” Jake turns his attention back onto you, “You’re all I want to focus on right now, okay?” He bites his lip as his eyes move to his red colored thumb, “Can I?”

You glance over and nod, looking up at him as he starts to slowly thrusts again. Your brows furrow and your face twists with pleasure as he brings his thumb over, dragging a red streak down your cheek.

He groans at the image, hand snapping down to your hip as his thrusts grow harder.

Your hands find themselves entangled within his hair, moaning out as he attacks your neck, leaving little purple marks scattered all over your skin.

You earn a groan from him when you pull, squeezing his cock tighter with the walls of your needy cunt.

“You keep doin’ that an I’m about to be done for.” Jake groans, “Fuck, baby. Doing so good.”

You whimper at his praise, arching your back and he takes the time to slip his arm under, holding you to him as your legs fall to rest over his thighs.

He uses his other arm to hold up his weight as he thrusts into you at a, now faster, pace.

He had you screaming at this point, the tip of his cock continuing to bottom out against your best up cervix, you knew you were going to be sore tomorrow.

“Need you to cum for me.” He breathes out, “Can you do that for me?”

You nod your head quickly, eyes screwing shut as you listen to his praise continue, “Such a good girl for me.”

“Taking me so well, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, yes, just like that. Oh fuck, just like that.”

Your vision goes white and your grip on Jake tightens as you moan loudly into his ear.

“That’s my girl.” Jake moans, his thrusts growing more sloppy by the second, “Where do you want me?”

Your legs tighten around his waist, answering his question - just in the nick of time, too. You feel his cock twitch inside of you, his cum being held in by his slowly softening cock.

“Fuck.” You breathe out as you look up at him, pushing his sticky from sweat hair off of his forehead.

He nods, smiling as he lays beside you, “Agreed.”

His hand searches for yours, and when he finds it, your fingers are instantly interlocked with his, taking a few moments just to lay there in the comfortable silence.

“Do you want to go for a shower?” Jake asks, tilting his head up to look at you. You look over at him and nod, “Only if you get one with me.”

“That was the only way I was offering it.” Jake smirks, moving to stand up, “Come on, my little fighter. Gotta wash this blood off your face.”

——

I hope you liked this! Tell me your thoughts! I love you all so much, thank you for reading! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

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1920sladydectective · 3 days ago

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Christmas Tree Smut - NSFW

I wrote this because my wife bought me all of the Rocklove jewellery Ambessa and Mel collection as a surprise for finishing my thesis and then we put up the Christmas tree. So thank her. :D

Not proof read, some pet names and choking but it’s a short drabble so not much.

Ambessa was tall. You were fully aware of this, it had its multitude of uses and attractions. This, though, you had yet to see this year.

There she stood, bundled in furs with a stern eye, surveying the tree.

“I think it’s fine,” You muttered to her left, tipsy smirk on your face.

“Since when has fine been acceptable, Dear? Do you love it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say love,”

“Then it is wrong,” She marched off down the sea of green, analysing as though picking new recruits.

You had been looking for two hours, and she had bought you five glasses of spiked mulled wine. Still she would not pick one. You just wanted to decorate a tree, have too much stollen and then kiss underneath the mistletoe. Instead, she was striking the fear of God into the farm attendant as she looked for her “Perfect” Tree.

From the uncharacteristically loud yell of joy, you hoped she’d found it. You were determined to love it even if it was half dead, just so you could leave. It was, in all fairness to Ambessa, astounding. Ten foot tall, plush and full, it loomed just as she’d wished.

“Will it fit?”

She looked at you like you were an idiot. Of course. Her castle ceilings were insanely high, that’s why you’d come to this farm in the first place.

The farmhand chopped it down, with constant commentary and criticism from Ambessa until you whacked her with your handbag and growled. Poor boy must have been a teenager, and Ambessa was calling him a spineless fool.

Then, in a flash, the magic happened. She picked it up, as though it wasn’t over three feet taller than her, and began to wander off to the soldiers waiting to transport it. You tensed, blindly handing the boy far too much money for the tree as you trailed behind her glamorous, toned form.

Her eyes sparkled as she placed it down, a wry grin on her face, “Something intriguing darling?”

“Don’t tease,” You sighed, gazing happily at her.

The journey back was simple, your wine addled mind floaty and dozing against her shoulder until she kissed you tenderly to wake you.

Once the great, hulking thing was situated, Ambessa began putting the lights on. You were not allowed on the wooden ladder, as if a glass bauble prone to dropping. That was fine with you, you’d just stare at her arse the whole time.

Finally, blissfully, you could decorate the fucking thing. Boxes and boxes of glass ornaments from your marriage and travels were brought into the room by attendants, a large wooden table used to spread them out as you contemplated how you wished to decorate this year.

Humming carols to yourself, you danced around Ambessa placing baubles and standing back to survey. She was only to place them where you said further up, your tone demanding and clear. It made her smirk, your perfectionism. Each year she grew to love it more.

Swiftly, she hugged you from behind and began to nibble your neck as you placed a pair of robins on a lower branch.

“Y-“ A huff, “You’re distracting me,”

“You’re distracting me, Little one,” She purred, nuzzling against your nape, “So commanding, so artistic, how am I supposed to resist such seduction?”

You melted slightly against her, taking in the warm glow of the lights as you tilted your head, offering more of your neck.

Ambessa left large, sharp marks all down your throat and collarbone, relishing in branding you as she wrapped her arm around you and began to tease your nipple.

Your knees buckled, ripping an amused moan from your lips, “You do this every year, you never let me finish the fucking thing,”

She pinches your nipple through your dress, hard enough it hurts, “But I let you finish don’t I? And isn’t that so kind of me? Aren’t you so thankful?”

“Yes,” You slur slightly, going limp in her hold as she tugs whimpers and sighs from you. This was how she liked it, the tree would be half done and she would fuck your under it’s great branches and then allow you to finish it naked with your legs trembling.

This year it seemed she had grown especially impatient, and started the process only a third of the way through. You were powerless to resist though, namely because you didn’t want to.

She lay you on the floor, fluffy blankets and pillows preemptively placed, as her wicked tongue trailed down your body, hands preoccupied with abusing your tits until your eyes rolled. Once she finally touched your molten core, you were already in the blind throes of pleasure, her name echoing for all to hear. She allowed you your wantonness in these moments, body shaking as your orgasm ripped through you.

The sparkling of the tree made your vision blur, pleasure merging with whimsy as you smiled dumbly up through the branches.

“Pretty girl,” Ambessa groaned against you, “Perfect slut,”

She stripped herself of all clothes, spreading your legs wider as she positioned herself between them, brushing her cunt against yours. Rutting against you, she wiped your mind of anything other than your clits rubbing against each other, tongue hanging out as you spluttered and leaked.

Panting, her eyes hazy, she squeezed your neck lightly as you came, squirting all over yourself at the overstimulation. Her orgasm was loud and shameless, wrecking you on her search for pleasure as she lent down and bit your nipple between her teeth.

“I love Christmas,” You giggled nonsensically, smiling at the mistletoe bauble directly above your head.

“As do I, my darling,” She huffed, curling you both into a blanket as you basked in each other.

#ambessa x reader #ambessa medarda #reader insert #arcane #arcane ambessa #ambessa smut #christmas smut

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janeyseymour · 9 months ago

Note

Once again, I just want to say I love your writing!! I was wondering if I could make a request? Reader goes out with the Abbott gang (maybe for a teacher mixer or something) and gets tipsy and Mel ends up taking care of her?

Details totally up to you; I just really like seeing what you create!

bestie, i got you.

Part 1. Part 2.

WC: ~2.3k

Enchanted- pt 3

Ava is currently trying to get you to convince Melissa, your girlfriend of two months now, to go out with you guys even though you know it’s almost a hopeless cause. Her and Barbara usually choose to stay in for the night and drink wine instead of going out and partying with you guys.

“Ava, I really don’t think she will… and I know Barb wouldn’t be caught dead in the clubs we like to go to,” you tell her.

“What if we just went out to a nice bar at first? I’ll let Jacob choose the place, so you know it’ll be boring as hell,” she counters.

You purse your lips at that. Those are usually the outings that the two older women are more willing to partake in. “I’ll talk to her, okay?”

“Let me know, girl. Because if she ain’t goin’, there ain’t no way in hell I’m letting the white boy pick.” Your best friend hangs up after that, and you sigh softly to yourself. This isn’t going to be an easy task.

As you pull into her driveway, you know you’re going to have to ask her. And normally, she’s willing to do virtually anything you want, but this is going to be tough- even for you.

“There you are, gorgeous,” Melissa smiles from the doorway.

You give her a wave before reaching into your passenger seat to grab your bag and the wine you brought over. You can feel the way her eyes are trained on your ass in the tight jeans you’re wearing (you’ll steal a pair of her sweatpants once you’ve gotten what you want). You make your way up to the door and pull her in for a soft, warm kiss.

“Hey,” you say softly. She lets you in and leads you to the kitchen. It already smells amazing.

She stirs her sauce for a few seconds before spinning around and drinking in your look. Her eyes go up and down your body a few times as she licks her lips.

“Like what you see?” you chuckle as you reach up to grab two wine glasses.

“You know I do,” she says huskily, hands palming your ass before wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against her.

You turn in her arms and give her a quick peck. “Not now,” you laugh. “I want wine and dinner.”

“Not a good day at the office?” she asks you, brows furrowed in concern.

“If you thought Ava could be bad, you would murder my boss some days,” you sigh. “How was your day, babe?”

“Actually pretty good,” Melissa tells you as she sets her chin on your shoulder. “Ava was willing to help me out, the kids were good, and Barb and I were talking about the different wines we’ll drink while you youngin’s are out partying it up tomorrow.”

You know the principal was just trying to butter up your girlfriend so she would be more open to the idea of going out with you all, but the redhead doesn’t necessarily need to know that.

“That’s nice,” you smile as you turn in her arms to look at her. “Speaking of… I really would love if you would come out with us.”

“Hun,” she sighs. “You know I’m too old to be out clubbing and drinking with youse.”

“Ava said Jacob is picking where we go to dinner, and then… you and Barb can come back here and have your wine night.” You kiss her gently. “I really would appreciate if you would come with us, at least to start the night.”

Your girlfriend says into your beck, nipping it gently. “I’ll call Barb.”

You grin. “You’re the best.”

She pulls her phone out of her back pocket as she goes to attend to the vegetables simmering in the pan and dials her work wife. You love watching how she can easily multi-task, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder, keeping an arm looped around your waist, and still making dinner. You sip your wine with glee.

“Hey. We’re going out to dinner tomorrow night with the crew, and then when they inevitably want to go out to drink more, we can come back to my place and have our wine.”

“Melissa,” you can hear the kindergarten teacher sigh.

“I know, I know,” she says into the phone. “But Jacob is picking the place, so you know it’s going to be way more tame than if Ava picked… and Y/N would be delighted to see you again.”

“So it’s Y/N that’s convinced you to go out,” Barbara smirks into the phone.

“Shut it,” your girlfriend laughs. “But yes. She’ll be there, so it would be nice to go.”

“I suppose I can show up for you and your woman,” the kindergarten teacher chuckles.

“Thank you, Barb!” you call into the phone. “You’re the best!”

“She sure has you wrapped around her finger, huh,” Barbara teases the redhead.

“Goodbye,” your girlfriend rolls her eyes. She hangs up the phone.

You grin as you turn in Melissa’s arms and kiss her deeply. “You’re the absolute best.”

“Don’t I know it,” she retorts playfully.

So here you are, sitting in a restaurant with the Abbott crew, Melissa and Barbara also with you. Ava is complaining that this place is boring and that you should “blow this popsicle stand”. You roll your eyes at her antics, reminding her that you haven’t even ordered your first round and your meals yet.

Dinner is nice. This place, for as odd as the atmosphere is, has great food and even better drinks. You order yourself another one, not realizing just how strong they make the drinks here- you can’t even taste the alcohol. That should have been your first clue as to just how strong these drinks were.

You drink your second one happily, and your cheeks turn red once that one is finished. You look over to Melissa who is sipping her glass of wine and talking to Barb contently.

“You’re so pretty tonight,” you tell her so quietly that no one else can hear.

The redhead smiles at you and lays a gentle hand over your knee. “Thank you.” She kisses your cheek. “You smell like booze.”

“Well, I had two already,” you chuckle. “They were good.”

“Your cheeks are already flushed,” she laughs softly as she cups your cheek with her hand.

“Oops,” you giggle.

“Try to pace yourself?”

You nod, but usually nights out with the Abbott crew mean that you’re getting hammered, and you’re going to feel like shit tomorrow. Tonight will be no exception, and you know this when Ava loudly announces that the bill has been paid, and you’re moving on to your next destination for the night.

Just tipsy enough to beg Melissa to come follow you to the next spot, you look to her with pleading eyes. “Please, baby?”

Your girlfriend glances over to Barbara who raises an eyebrow.

“Hun, you know Barb and I usually don’t stick around for your wild nights,” the redhead tries to let you down gently.

You frown, but it is quickly replaced with a smile. “That’s okay,” you say.

Barbara though, has glanced down at her phone, and a text form Gerald has come through. She taps both of you on the arm.

“Gerald just texted me to tell me that he has a special surprise for me at home, so I unfortunately cannot come over for wine night,” the kindergarten teacher states. “I have to head out, but I’ll see the two of you later.”

Melissa purses her lips and furrows her brow, but Barbara just waves her off. “Enjoy tonight.” She heads out, leaving Melissa to her own devices.

“Please?” you look to the redhead with puppy dog eyes, and she knows she can’t say no now- especially with Barb not here now to give her an excuse to not go.

That’s how you find yourself in a dimly lit bar, taking shot after shot with your best friend and the rest of the Abbott crew, sans Melissa. Your woman has taken it upon herself to be the least drunk of all of her coworkers, and she’s watching over you diligently from the bar as you dance your heart out on the floor.

You’re… enchanting. The way your hips sway and you sing along to the music without a care in the world… God. She loves the way you look tonight, the way you are so free, the way that you always show up for Ava- even with all of her shenanigans. She loves you- every single thing about you is a reason for her to fall even more madly in love with you.

You catch her watching you, and you can’t help but grin and move your hips in a way that you know will have her drooling. She nearly does. You can’t help but throw your head back as you laugh at the way she’s entirely enchanted with the way that you look. Deciding to take a break from all of the dancing, you try to make your way over to the redhead sitting on one of the barstools. But because of your intoxicated state, you half stumble to her instead.

Once you’re close enough to her, you fall into her arms. She catches you, of course she does.

“You having fun?” you ask her as you press your lips to hers. You taste like all of the vodka cranberry drinks you’ve downed, and there’s a hint of cinnamon lingering in your breath from the fireball shots that you did with Ava.

She just laughs. “Are you?”

“Of course I am!” you slur out. “But I would be having more fun if you would come dance with me!”

Somehow, by some grace of God, you get Melissa on the floor with you. She grabs at your hips as you dance with her. The rest of the world melts away, and it’s just the two of you.

But then Ava is holding out a green tea shot for you take with her, and as soon as you swallow, you know you just went over your limit. You’re going to end tonight throwing up your guts, and you really don’t want to do that in the filthy bathroom at this skanky dive bar.

“Mel,” you whine out. “Wanna go home… Don’t feel good.”

Without thinking, she immediately turns into the overprotective woman that you know and love. She tells the crew that the two of you are heading out, and she half carries you out of the bar.

The cool air hits you as you step out onto the sidewalk, and you feel a bit better. It was getting pretty stuffy in there.

“You feelin’ any better now that we’re out of there?” she asks you softly, kissing your temple.

You hum and allow her to lead you to the car.

She drives as carefully as she can, but with the state you’re in… you don’t feel so well again. You close your eyes, but that only makes you feel worse, so you force yourself to open your eyes and watch whatever is straight in front of you.

“We’re almost home,” Melissa says softly, patting your leg soothingly. “You’ll be okay.”

You just make a face that tells her you’re doing everything you can right now to not get sick in her car.

Once she pulls into her driveway, you bolt for the bushes. After emptying out the contents in your stomach, you wipe your mouth hastily and apologize to her sheepishly.

“I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t take an Uber,” she mumbles as she pulls you in. “Let’s get you in and up to bed.”

You let her carry you into her house and up the steps, fully knowing that you’re physically incapable of using your legs right now. She undresses you before putting you into a pair of her sleep shorts and one of her old Abbott shirts. She guides you to the bathroom, forces you to brush your teeth and use mouthwash, and then the two of you are climbing into bed.

You bolt quickly before heaving. There’s nothing left in your system as of right now though. You feel gentle hands weaving their way through your hair, and then you hear a hair tie being put at the end of the braid your girlfriend had just done for you.

You give her a questioning look.

“So if anything happens in the middle of the night, your hair won’t be in the way,” she shrugs. “It’s happened too many times to me.”

You go to peck her cheek, but she pushes you away.

“No way, dog breath.” She reaches for the mouthwash again, and you swish it in your mouth before spitting it into the sink.

“Thank you,” you slur out.

“Of course, hun,” the redhead tells you. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

After getting some of the liquid poison out of your system, you’re feeling a bit more sober.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with this,” you apologize sheepishly.

Your girlfriend just brushes a few of the untamable flyaways away from your face before gently pressing her lips to your temple. “Even like this, you’re still the most enchanting woman I’ve ever met.”

You swoon at her words and curl into her hold even further.

“Get some sleep, love. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

“Because we’re at your house,” you quip, eyelids fluttering shut.

“And? I’ll still be here. Always will be.”

And she is. When you wake up, head pounding and stomach still churning, she’s got a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water waiting for you.

#melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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cranberryjuice-posts · 10 months ago

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“Why do You love abby so much”

Abby is such a complex character. She is surrounded by the WLF with so much respect love and adoration. But she still needs to kill Joel, no matter how much she’s given she still needs to avenge her father.

Abby is willing to do anything for people she loves, love isn’t just romantic to this character it’s familial, platonic and romantic. For example in her flash back with Owen when their still together she jumped off the Ferris wheel to make-sure he was ok. But I think she eventually fell out of love with him. Her passion for hunting down Joel over came whatever she might had felt for him.

I fucking hate Owen (look at my other post I’ll link where I talk abt why I don’t like him) but the parallels between him and Dina are relevant, Dina lost Ellie to revenge, Owen lost Abby to revenge. These characters wanted to make things work but ultimately couldn’t because of revenge.

Abby’s character is one that’s caring, she immediately try’s to help Mel when she got shot she looks out for Owen by ignoring Issacs orders and goes out searching for him, she protects lev when Isaac threatened to shoot him and more.

Another thing I want to add is that Abby fell out of love with Owen, she cared for him like a friend but she knew he still had romantic attraction to her so she kept her distance, when he found Mel I’m 1000% sure she was happy for them and when she found out Mel was pregnant at first she was stand-off ish by just the fact they had agreed to bring Mel whos now pregnant to a dangerous setting like this with the chances of miscarriage high. But I believe she was also happy for them happy owen moved on happy for Mel happy they are going to have a family.

After Abby killed Joel you could see that a sense of burden had been taken off of her compared to earlier flashbacks. She never planed on having Ellie watch she didn’t even know she was there until after Joel was dead and she turned around since she was so tuned out after torturing him.

The boat scene. The boat scene shows us a lot about Abby, you can see on her face she immediately regrets what’s happening since it’s a betrayal to Mel and herself. I’ve previously said that the boat scene was just an escalation of years of her and owens emotions Just crashing down. It was a form of closure so abby could move on just like how she needed closure from killing Joel to move on from her fathers death.

This is so clear in the Santa Barbara scene where she’s happy, her face is glowing she’s smiling she no longer has the effect of her fathers death, her breaking owens heart and she’s finally free to do what she wants with a character that’s like her brother lev

Abby is such a complex character that I’m still figuring out but I love her on so many levels, do I think Abby is queer or likes women yes, I can’t give her an exactly sexuality since it’s never been revealed but yes I do think she’s into women more much more then men

#lesbian #wlw #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us 2

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annes-andromeda · 6 days ago

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Spoilers for S2 Act III of Arcane and S2 in general

That’s it?

We waited three years… for THAT?!

All that buildup in Season 1 regarding the war between Piltover/Topside and Zaun/The Undercity essentially meant jack cause apparently Noxus was the true enemy all along.

Heimerdinger? Dead.

Jayce? Dead (Allegedly)

Jinx? Dead (Also allegedly)

Viktor? Dead (again, allegedly)

Warwick? Dead (A L L E G E D L Y)

CaitVi got their sex scene but in the most inappropriate place possible. Did it have to be in the place where Vi was repeatedly abused and Jinx was thinking of offing herself??

MelJay… oh meljay my beloved you guys truly deserved better holy shit. All so that the focus could be more on JayVik. And i dont hate the ship, but it was clearly established that MelJay had a strong bond. And for them to end like that??? Really????

I don’t care that Mel didn’t end up pregnant, but her reunion with Jayce was so half-assed. Like, i get it, they’re both traumatized and have changed as people, but after all of their moments, after everything they’ve been through THATS IT?????

I know SkyVik isn’t canon but Sky deserved better wtf. Having her establish a relationship with Viktor just to be brushed off again???

TimeBomb isn’t technically canon but it is canon that Ekko had/has a crush on Jinx, and they weren’t totally fringed so that nice i guess. But it still would have been nice to see how Ekko convinced Jinx to team up with him instead of just cutting to the next scene.

Overall, this season wasn’t the worst I’ve seen, but the writing and pacing could have been soooo much better. If there was just one extra season and some tweaks in the writing then perhaps it could have been better.

Not only that, but I came in with the knowledge that the show was now canon, so i assumed we’d have the characters develop into their game personalities and then they just… didn’t.

We could have seen how Vi struggled with being an enforcer and eventually accept her new position as a way to help both Piltover and Zaun and make the enforcers better alongside Caitlyn.

We could have seen Jinx decide to live by her own rules and not be beholden to anyone’s expectations of her, to do as she pleases, and just go wild.

Where was Viktor actually becoming the actual Machine Herald with his mechanical parts? Where was Jayce becoming more like his game counterpart? Where was Warwick mutating into his final wolf form?

Everything just felt beyond rushed and hectic. I’m not saying I regret watching this show and i still very much love it, but i will always mourn what the finale could have been and cherish Season 1 for the masterpiece it was.

The animation, voice acting, and music was still fire obviously

#league of legends #arcane #arcane critical #im not mad but boy am i disappointed #for hours all ive been saying is THATS IT????#arcane spoilers

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captainyaps · 4 months ago

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Isn’t it crazy how despite Hades Halls being filled with the dead, there was always so much life in it? There was always shades milling around, always Dusa fretting in the corner, always Hypnos not doing his job, always the head chef chopping the same onion. But in hades 2… it is truly dead. There is none of that. When Mel goes into Zag’s room, the mess is coated with dust and bed too perfect to have been recently made. The lyre lies untouched. The scrying pool holds ancient, withered numbers, meaningless and still. When she goes into the great hall, there is no scrawling of Hades’ quill, nor his loud complaints. There is no great maw of Cerberus nor the silence of Achilles. No Thanatos waiting at the end of the hallway, no Meg scaring the shades. It is just empty, a cold reminder of what once was, of what was taken.

She stops needing to look at the portrait to remember what the Titan took from her.

#hades 2 #hades the game #this was sparked by 1am angst and a shitpost about Mel finally accessing Zag’s room #and immediately being like ‘this fuck lived in THIS??? the FUCK bro?!’#but it also hurt a lot like owie it’s so empty and void of life

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venomwrites · 6 days ago

Note

Mel rushing Cait to medics before she bleeds out, snippets of her over the next couple of hours/days, desperately trying to find Vi.

Warnings: Spoilers for everything, descriptions of injuries.

Additional chapters are on Ao3: The Observer

Chaos rules the battlefield.

Mel wars against its overwhelming tide. She presses her soldiers against the gaping wound that’s been cut into the world by careless hands. Spears and banners become stretchers as her mother’s—no—her soldiers cart the screaming and the dying off to medics. There are no spoils here. Or if there are, Mel does not care about them. A wolf feasts after war but Mel doubts she will ever eat again.

“You, we need a medic. Now!”

“No!”

Caitlyn tries to turn away but her body betrays her. She makes a wordless, agonized shout. Dark red starts to flow from the gut wound her mother gave her. Mel knows the wound intimately. It’s the wound her mother gives to those she wants to die witnessing her triumph. Untreated it is deadly, but it is a slow death. Provided you leave the blade inside you. She does not know if her mother explained the wound to Caitlyn. Perhaps she did and Caitlyn accepted her fate as she accepted the blade in her eye.

“Medic!” Mel shouts, ignoring the protest and covering the wound with her hands.

There must be something nearby she can use. But all she can see is tattered red fabric. Caitlyn is going into shock. Her breathing is erratic. Her eye is rolling as she fights unconsciousness. The other tries to follow suit. It cannot. Mel cannot focus on that at the moment. The gut wound will kill her first. Despite her shouts there is no medic in her eyesight. Not one that isn’t working on someone.

“It’s fine—“ Caitlyn coughs. The blood on her lips is from her eye, it must be, “if you see Vi tell her—“

“No,” Mel cuts her off, “there has been enough death here today,” her magic is new but she is a fast learner, “try to hold still. Think of Vi.”

She focuses on her memories of her mother’s lesson. The precise placement of the blade. Caitlyn grinds her teeth together and tries to curl up but Mel ignores her. Her fingers grip Mel’s wrists. Mel hopes having something to hold onto will make this easier. With a look of apology she dips her fingers into the wound and summons the gold light.

Caitlyn screams.

Mel focuses on wrapping the sides of the wound in the gold light. Caitlyn’s fingers dig into her tendons, desperate to throw her off but Mel ignores her. She wraps the damage in her gold light and thinks of heat. Caitlyn keeps screaming but Mel cannot watch her bleed out. The smell of burnt flesh is nauseating even with the death all around them. But she holds the hot gold light there until she’s reasonably sure she’s sealed off the worst of the damage.

Somehow Caitlyn is still conscious.

“You fought well,” Mel says without thinking. But Caitlyn gives a tight nod of acknowledgement, “let me see.”

Caitlyn hisses as she parts her eyelid. She may not have enough strength or voice to scream. Mel is familiar with all kinds of death and wounds. She has never found a way to get used to them. She always feels them echoed in her own body. Her own eye stings viciously at the sight of what is left of Caitlyns. It’s already deflated. Her eyelid has been holding back what is left of it. Her other eye is fixed on Mel.

“They might be able to help,” she says, closing the eyelid gently.

“Vi,” Caitlyn grits out the name, “where’s Vi?”

“I don’t know,” Mel confesses.

“Find her!” Caitlyn says and apparently she does have strength left to put force and volume behind her words, “Vi!” She cries the name tilting her head back.

“Shh,” Mel grips her hand, “I’m sure she’s fine. We will find her.”

Caitlyn gasps raggedly at all of the dead Enforcers. She tries to bring her legs up to plant her feet but it aggravates the gut wound. Mel puts her knee over Caitlyn’s thigh and her other hand covers the wound. No blood touches her fingertips but that is a borrowed miracle. She does not know for how long it will hold.

“I need to find her!” Caitlyn protests desperately.

“You will not make it far,” Mel counters. Two men appear with a proper stretcher between them, “we’re going to move you,” she says. Caitlyn opens her mouth, “I will find Vi!” She says, trying to put more force in the words than she feels.

The medics get Caitlyn strapped onto the board. Mel tightens her grip on Caitlyn’s hand nods at the countdown. When they lift Caitlyn screams again. This time the magic falters and when Mel lifts her hand, it’s coated red again. They need to move quickly. Caitlyn looks at the red on Mel’s fingertips and rips he hand free of her grasp. She slaps her hands over the wound.

“Go find Vi!”

Mel watches them rush away. Caitlyn is still in eyesight when her hands go loose and one falls from the gurney. But they keep running. She is alive. So many promises have been broken today. Mel cannot add to the list. Her mother called her a wolf. Now she needs to hunt.

She finds an actual wolf at the bottom of the tower.

Or, an approximation of one. He’s been blown up very thoroughly, the crater of his body curled protectively up. The poor creature is at peace. From what Mel understands that is a mercy long deserved. Flying takes focus Mel is lacking at the moment. The shields come easier. With them she is able to make an approximation of stairs and begins to climb. The burn in the back of her calves helps her clear her head as she makes her way higher.

There she finds Vi.

The young woman is limp on a ledge that looks ready to fall. She is waiting for something. Perhaps death. It’s a horrible contrast to the way Caitlyn kicked and fought every pull of unconsciousness to shout for her. Mel knows there are things here she does not understand. But this broken creature is a far cry from the woman who demanded their attention in the council chamber a lifetime ago. Who gritted her teeth and picked up the gauntlets to fight alongside people she never wanted to.

“Vi,” she says to the unresponsive girl, “It’s Mel. I’m coming over to you.”

She spreads gold underneath the ledge and makes her way over. Vi is staring up at the ceiling dully. She looks like she’s in shock. The gold light at least makes her blink and look up. Her face is littered with cuts and one of her arms is twisted horribly. But her external injuries seem minimal otherwise. Mel’s diplomat smile feels alien to her, but she puts it on anyway.

“Hello Vi,” she says, “can you stand?”

Vi looks at her and then at the bolts. Mel glances back and sees they have come free. Now both of their lives are dependent on a shield that she has to keep up. A shield she has used so much today. Well at least Mel knows she excels under pressure.

“Would you like to tell me what’s wrong?”

“My dad died,” Vi says slowly, sounding alarmingly young.

“I’m sorry,” Mel says, “my mother did as well,” Vi frowns, “I know people think she deserved to die for her deeds.”

“That’s what they’ll say about my sister,” Vi whispers.

Mel looks down at the curled over form of the wolf. Sister. Of course. Now it makes sense. The death of a parent could cripple you, but the death of someone you were supposed to protect. Like a little sister. That could truly be your undoing.

“My brother passed recently as well,” Mel says. It is not very Medarda of her to air out family laundry. But anyone who could have defined what a Medarda is has now left this earth. The more she talks, the more Vi seems to come back to life, “my mother caused his death. Now she’s gone as well. I hope they are together again,” she says, “do you hope that for your father and sister?”

Vi nods. Slowly she pushes herself into a sitting position. She still looks out of it, but she’s moving at the very least. She glances down and her eyes widen at the sight.

“Vi—Vi!” Mel injects enough sharpness into her tone to draw Vi’s gaze, “look at me. Caitlyn is looking for you.”

“Cait,” her brows draw together and she turns, as though Caitlyn will materialize, “where is she?”

“She was hurt,” Mel says, “she fought very bravely. She sent me to find you.”

“Cait’s hurt?” Vi repeats, “where—“ pain crosses her face at her shoulder, “shit.”

“It’s alright,” Mel says, “I’m going to lower us down. I want you to keep your eyes on me. What do you think your sister and father are doing right now?”

Vi blinks tears from her eyes. It’s taking all of Mel’s concentration to gently lower them. Turning this into some kind of giant elevator. She cannot also worry about Vi panicking.

“Vi,” Mel repeats, “what are they doing? Where are they?”

“She’s drawing,” Vi says, “he’s—smoking his pipe,” she says, “they’re at the old bar. But they’ll go to the arcade next.”

“That’s really good, Vi,” Mel says as she gets them the rest of the way down and out of the shaft. She throws up another shield behind her to block the view, “they sound happy.”

Vi hesitates, looking at the shield like there’s nowhere else she wants to be. But something hardens in her face and she focuses instead on Mel.

“Where’s Caitlyn?”

The medical tent is chaos.

It takes Mel a moment to find Caitlyn. She was unconscious when Mel last saw her. Something has woken her up. Her body twists on the gurney as she tries to fight the hands trying to help her. Mel hurries forward. Vi is ten steps ahead. Mel has no idea how she finds her so easily. By the time Mel gets there she’s already got her one good hand wrapped around Caitlyns.

“You’re here,” Caitlyn dry sobs with relief. Vi’s face cracks with emotion.

“Yeah, Cupcake, I’m here,” she says, “thought we agreed you were gonna be careful.”

“No, you told me to be careful,” Caitlyn counters, “I never—“ she cuts herself off with a cry. Vi leans forward, pressing her back onto the bed, “Vi!” She cries.

“Shhh,” Vi soothes, “I’m here, I’m here. Look at me Cait, you gotta stay with me.”

“I’m trying!” Caitlyn cries.

“I know, you’re doing so good,” Vi says, “so good.”

There Is love here.

It catches Mel off guard. So much death surrounds them. So much pain. And yet they cling to each other. Desperately but hopefully. The girl from the Undercity and the rebellious Enforcer. Two people who, on the surface, could not be more different. Yet there is something inside them that matches. That pulls them apart. Mel had thought that death was the only real thing in this place but she can see that is not true.

She’s not certain what she is doing. It’s as though something in her is directing her movements. Vi looks up as she stands in front of her. Her eyes widen and Mel is fairly certain hers have gone gold again.

“I believe I can help,” she says, “she needs your strength.”

“Whatever she needs,” Vi says.

“No—“ Caitlyn tries to protest again but Vi looks at her desperately. She returns the look and then looks up at Mel, nodding her permission.

Mel touches their hands. Impossible strength flows through Vi. The strength to move mountains and fight impossibilities. She threads it through Caitlyn’s inner steel. That spine of hers that defies what the world tells her to be and aims for what is good and true. Her mother wreaked havoc on it, but it’s only tarnished. A little bent perhaps. But capable of being so much more. Mel finds the tendrils left from the anomaly. The moment when they were one. They cling to each other as Mel fortifies Caitlyn’s strength through the echo of that shared bond.

The monitors steady out.

Vi rocks her head on Caitlyn’s collarbone, their hands clasped tightly under her chest. Mel presses her fingers to Vi’s neck where her pulse thrums. It’s steady. She nods at Caitlyn who exhales in relief, even though she can feel Vi’s breath on her skin. Mel knows this is not fair to the poor girl, but somehow she thinks the loss of Caitlyn would be even worse. While Vi is leaning there she moves her hands to her misshapen shoulder and pops it back into place with a quick twist of her fingers. Vi looks at her.

“My brother taught me that,” she says. The medics nod at her, “it looks like they were able to repair the damage,” she says to both of them. Caitlyn wraps her other arm around Vi’s shoulder, fingers settling on the nape of her neck, “Vi will just need rest.”

“Thank you,” Caitlyn whispers.

Mel would like to think she means for the healing. But seeing the way she clutches Vi to her, it may just be because Vi is there. The knowledge that one is needed is profound. But to be needed by one you love even more so. Mel does not know the limits of her power. If she would have been able to do that without the echo of Viktor in their heads.

But watching how they clutch each other, she thinks perhaps it would have worked regardless.

#caitvi #arcane spoilers #cait x vi #caitlyn kiramman #vi #mel medarda #arcane #vi x cait

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