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kathlare · 1 day ago

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things i wish you said

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie faces an emotionally charged moment during her concert in Florida.

Wordcount: 1.3 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

March 16th, 2023 - Hollywood, FL

The bright lights of the stage blurred into a haze as Amelie stood at the edge, her heart pounding in her chest. She had already performed several songs during the first night of the Emails I Can't Send tour in Florida, but this one—this song—was different. This was the one that meant everything and nothing all at once.

Tonight, she was going to sing "things i tish you said." For the first time, the crowd would hear it live. It had been her most personal and raw creation, written in the wake of her fractured relationship with Lando. The song had come to life during those sleepless nights in London, and each lyric had been a release, a catharsis. But now, as she stood on stage with only Alex playing guitar beside her, the emotions felt too heavy to bear.

Her hand shook slightly as she adjusted the mic stand. She could hear the faint hum of the crowd, their voices distant yet ever-present. They didn't know the story behind the song. They didn't know how it had been inspired by someone who, once upon a time, had meant everything to her—someone who was no longer in her life.

Amelie took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. The spotlights warmed her skin, but they also felt like they were closing in on her. It was surreal—performing in front of thousands, but still feeling so incredibly alone in this moment. The song she was about to sing was hers, yes, but it was also Lando’s. A part of her could still see him—the way he laughed, the way he touched her with a tenderness that only existed between them. But that was a lifetime ago, and now, all she had was this song to try to make sense of what went wrong.

—Alright,— she said softly into the mic, trying to hold back the tremor in her voice. —This next one is… a little personal. It’s for anyone who’s ever had words left unsaid. Or maybe, wished for someone to say things they never did. I think we’ve all been there.—

A gentle murmur of understanding rippled through the crowd, and Amelie couldn't help but look down at her feet. Her eyes closed for a moment, and she focused on the sound of Alex’s guitar as he began to play the familiar chords. The melody felt heavier tonight—filled with all the rawness she had kept locked inside for so long.

The first verse came naturally, her voice steady and controlled, though there was a weight to the lyrics that she hadn't anticipated.

But as she sang, the emotions started to creep in, the ones she had buried under the surface for so long. When she hit the line, —“Baby, sorry, I left you in the dark,”— the words felt too close to home. Her throat tightened, and she faltered for a moment, the weight of her own heartbreak choking her. She swallowed hard, forcing the next line out, —“I always reach for your leg over there on your side of the car.”—

Her mind raced—flashes of memories that she couldn’t outrun. The late-night drives in his car, his hand resting so comfortably on hers, the way he would lean over to steal a kiss when the silence stretched too long. Fuck, how she missed him.

The crowd’s energy was palpable, but all Amelie could focus on was the overwhelming ache in her chest. It felt as if every note she sang was pulling at something deep inside of her, something she hadn’t let herself feel in far too long. The ache of lost love, the regrets, the things left unsaid, and the gnawing emptiness that had settled in since she and Lando had drifted apart. She closed her eyes tightly, fighting the tears that were threatening to escape.

As Alex played, his guitar soft but steady, she pressed on, even though her heart was no longer in the song—at least not the version of it that she had written months ago. The song she had written had been about trying to heal from the mess of their past, but now, standing on stage with the whole world watching, it felt like a raw wound that would never truly close.

—“Baby, everything reminds me of you,”— she sang, the words slipping from her lips like a confession, a plea for release. She could almost feel him beside her, the warmth of his body, his presence that had once felt like home. But now, there was only a vast and cold distance between them.

Her voice cracked, but she pressed on. The crowd seemed to know that something was off, that this was more than just a song. They started to sing along with her, their voices blending with hers in an unexpected harmony. It should have been comforting, but all it did was amplify the aching emptiness inside her.

—“Nobody gets my jokes, everyone here thinks I'm fucking rude,”— she continued, the line coming out with a bitterness she hadn’t meant to inject into it. It was like a punch to the gut. She had always joked about how no one really understood her sense of humor, how she felt so out of place in so many circles, but with Lando, it was different. He had gotten her. She had thought they were in sync, but she was wrong. The realization hit harder than she had expected, and her voice wavered as the tears started to sting at the corners of her eyes.

She felt Alex’s gaze shift from the guitar strings to her, his support unspoken but clear. She gave him a small nod, trying to keep herself composed, but she couldn’t fight the wave of emotion crashing over her.

—“When I saw you cry, I didn’t handle it well,”— she sang, barely able to keep the words steady. Her breath hitched, the memory of that night in Bahrain replaying in her mind. The fight with Lando had been brutal, the kind of conversation that shattered everything between them. He had looked at her with such disappointment, with anger, and she had seen it in his eyes—the moment he realized she wasn’t going to fight for them anymore. That moment had killed a part of her.

The crowd kept singing, their voices lifting her, but all Amelie could hear was the hollow echo of her own thoughts. The weight of their last conversation, the finality of their words, it haunted her even now. And now, standing here, singing this song, she felt it all over again.

The tears started to spill then, against her will. She couldn’t hold them back. They ran down her cheeks, blending with the makeup she had so carefully applied before the show. She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, trying to regain her composure, but it was useless. The song was too real.

—“Without you here, I don’t know what to do with myself,”— she croaked through the verse, her voice thick with emotion. She couldn't help it. The words were true, every last one of them. Without Lando, she felt like she was drifting. The tour, the fans, the lights—it all felt so empty without him there. They had been so close, so tangled up in each other’s lives, that the silence now felt deafening.

Alex kept playing, his guitar filling in the gaps where her voice faltered. He was the only one who could see just how much this song was wrecking her, how much it was breaking her heart all over again. He shot her a reassuring look, his fingers never missing a beat.

Amelie tried to steady her breath, but when she sang the next line— —“I think about these things at night before I fall asleep, things I wish you said to me,”— the floodgates opened. She had written this song for herself, but now it felt like it was for everyone else who had ever been left with unsaid words. She could feel the weight of every person in the crowd, their love and empathy pouring toward her as she let herself feel it all.

And as she sang, her mind flashed back to Lando. To the nights they had spent talking, laughing, kissing, and to the way he had made her feel. She remembered the way his eyes had softened when he looked at her, how he would reach out for her when they were together. But all of that was gone now—replaced by the aching void that was left in his absence.

—“Sorry, that I pulled the 'It’s not you, it’s me,’”— she sang, and the words felt like they were meant for her, more than for him. She had pushed him away so many times, pretending it wasn’t affecting her when it was tearing her apart inside.

Her voice quivered as she finished the chorus, and she let the crowd’s voices carry the weight of the final line. She wasn’t sure if they noticed the way she stumbled, the way she faltered. They kept singing, but she felt exposed, vulnerable, as though she were standing naked in front of them.

—“I waste my time, I waste my life on idiotic things, like things you never said… things you’ll never say to me.”—

By the time the song ended, the tears had stopped falling, though the ache in her chest had only deepened. The crowd cheered, their applause filling the space between her and the reality of her broken heart. She managed a small smile, wiping the last of the tears away, but inside, she felt completely undone.

Her heart was still with Lando in ways she hadn’t fully realized. It wasn’t just the words left unsaid that haunted her—it was everything she had allowed herself to lose.

As Alex finished the last note of the song, the crowd’s applause roared around them, but Amelie couldn’t bring herself to soak it all in. She was lost in the memory of a past she couldn’t escape, a love that had slipped through her fingers like sand.

And as she turned to leave the stage, she felt an undeniable truth burn deep inside her: some things—some people—were simply never meant to stay.

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liked by ameliemyqueen, eicsupdates, and others

amelieupdates: 😭💔 Amelie broke down singing "things i wish you said" tonight in Florida. Her emotions were so raw, it hit DIFFERENT. We feel you, Ames, we really do. 💙

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ameliesupporter: That song just hits different when you see her emotional like that. 💖

laneliefoeverr: I swear Amelie’s heart is too big for this world. I felt that pain. 💔😭 → ameliefanforever: @laneliefoeverr Omg same, like I was ready to be a sobbing mess with her. 😩

dayman_loverrr: If Amelie cries, we cry. It’s that simple. 😩 → amorbyamelie: @dayman_loverr Literally me right now! I’m not okay after hearing her voice break. 😭💖

rodrigowho: Honestly, if they broke up, Lando should be making his move now!! 😤😤 → landonarmy: @rodrigowho Don’t even get me started. I feel like Amelie and Lando were THE vibe, they lowkey need to get back together 😂

landosfanpageee: THE WAY AMELIE WAS CRYING 😭 like, girl, we all know it’s about someone and that someone is probably Lando... → amelieforever_: @landosfanpageee If it’s not about Lando, I’ll eat my shoe. 🤡

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motorcycleboy9 · 10 months ago

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guys I knew nothing about the outsiders musical but great expectations lives in my head rent free for the last two days THIS SONG FUCKING SLAPS

#every single person should listen to great expectations performed by brody grant from the outsiders musical at least once in their life #like JOHNNY HAS NO KIND OF CHANCE IN THIS WORLD NOT FROM WHERE HE'S HAD A START #am i insane? probably #WHO KNOWS HOW FAR IN THIS LIFE HE COULD GO IF HE PLAYED A DIFFERENT PART #GREEAAAAAATTT EXPECTAAAATIOOOONS #please add tulsa 67' on spotify too pls pls pls #the outsiders #the outsiders musical #the outsiders 1983 #dallas winston #ponyboy curtis #johnny cade #nickyapping

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arolesbianism · 4 months ago

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I have obtained a new oc and in the process I've already signed myself up for needing to make at least 3 new ocs for his story which he now has despite me initially Intending for him to be a side character for a different side character to hang out with. My townhouse has over 200 characters on it.

#rat rambles #oc posting #he doesn't have an official name yet but he is my silly billy and I love him #also take every him with an asterisk again he's like super new (I just got him today)#although several elements of his story so far have been things Ive been wanting to do for a while so thats a part of why I have so many #ideas for him already since its some stuff I've been wanting to play around with for a while #the real reason he has a chokehold on me rn is that I tripped and made him my 500 thousanth character with identity issues #I <3 characters with a fucked up relationship with their sense of self and what it even means to be themself #oh hes also a magic cat world character because thats what like 90% of my ocs are from at this point lol #and another goop related guy but this time not directly related to every other goop guy #he doesnt interact with any of them or even know most of them exist #long story short hes a robot who used to not be a robot but remembers nothing abt his life before he turned himself into a robot #all he has as reference is a mostly ruined journal his past self kept that is almost entirely unreadable due to it getting soaked in goop #he knows that this was self inflicted and his approximate age but that's abt it in terms of useful information #early story is mostly just him traveling alone trying to see if anyone nearby knows who he is but after going through like 5 or so towns he #starts to get more worried and upset about the whole situation and starts trying to look into some different missing person reports in #hopes that he can find one of himself #he runs out of the savings he had on him pretty quickly though so he had to figure out how to stay afloat while doing his research #'luckily' he meets a man while looking into one case he found who was willing to let him stick around at his place while looking into it #this guy had some investment in these dissapearances because he suspected that they related to his father and hoped to find any sort of #window in what he was up to since he hadnt seen him since he ran away at around 17 #spoilers his dad is cake this is still connected to cake nonsense because everything in this world fucking does but the main boy himself #actually has no ties to cake or his activities so thats smth at least #but yeah long story short things get. real bad for my boy after the first few months of staying at this guy's place.#yknow how risa in the future was often used as a weapon of war using some unstable chemicals? yeah guess where that started.#mr daddy issue haver over here may understand that his dad is a bad person but evidently that doesnt stop him from being not much better #currently Im planning on having main boy escape eventually and get stuck in the non magic world where he meets april but that could change #it depends on if I want him to interact with the other stories going on at all or not #I probably wont but I would like to leave myself some wiggle room to let him meet more side characters #like (looks with big sad wet eyes) ginger maybe? please? please april? let me see your sister? that you havent seen in years? please?

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angelicblondie · 2 months ago

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popstar!reader x bodyguard!rafe ~~~ pre-award show ride 18 + MINORS DNI

the scent of tom fords tobacco vanilla and victoria secret tease wafted in the back of the limo, filling your nostrils with the sweetest fusion. kind of symbolic, you thought, of you and rafe - the perfect pair.

your heel tapped on the floor of the car as you sat poised in your seat, rafe sitting to your right, arms rested on the tinted window seal as he gazed out onto the streets.

your eyes flickered to him every so often, almost like you couldn't help it, almost like there was simply a magnetic pull - always has been with the two of you.

tonight was the VMAs, and unlike the very beginning of your carreer, award shows were a lot less daunting. you were up for a couple categories, and even thus far into your career you couldn't shake the pre-show nerves.

rafe looked over, noticing the tapping of your heel which he had come to realize as a nervous habit by now. "hey," he called out, "you good?"

you look over, fluttering your lashes a bit. "why? lookin' to make me better?"

rafe, used to your flirting by now, rolled his eyes with a breathy laugh. "jesus, kid, next time i wont ask."

you bit your lip, moving your leg over to nudge his. "sorry," you held back a giggle, yet you words were sincere. "m'good, just nerves."

he hummed in understanding, looking down as your legs before looking back out the window, his hand wordlessly coming down to grip above your knee, his thumb smoothing over the skin.

you swallowed, taking a breath and attempting to relax into your seat. it was crazy how one little touch from him sent your heart aflame, beating against your chest as warmness spread throughout you. rafe just had that affect on you.

sure, you played it cool - being charismatic was an essential part of your job, you were a master at it. but rafe....he was different. you covered it up by quick remarks and flirty liners, but deep down you both knew that what you two shared - the connection you - was a lot more than that.

a lot more than that time in your dressing room back on tour.

since then, you two had gone back to normal...in your own way. except this time, normal consisted of sly touches and longing looks. heated makeouts once in a blue moon (if your lucky), and knowing stares.

it was exciting, exhilarating, even. you felt in control, even though you had never really felt more helpless. but really, it made sense - everything else in your life was hardly your decision. you didn't get to pick the tour dates, you didn't get to pick which cities, which stadiums. you don't get to pick what events you go to, or when the album deadline is, or who your paired up with on PR dates - thats the managments choice, not yours. a lot of the time, it feels likes your life isnt yours.

but when your with rafe...that all changes.

you could hear the faint sound of classical music that the driver mustve been playing, muffled by the closed divider. the silence between you and rafe was comfortable, his thumb continuing to rub your skin as you tried to pull your eyes away from the contact.

after a moment, rafe speaks up. "when we get there, walk straight to the carpet. take a couple photos, answer a couple questions from reporters, and meet us on the other side."

you sigh softly, rolling your eyes. "i know, i know. its the same every time, rafey," you say, faux annoyed.

He hums, squeezing your leg. "just lookin' out f'you," he grumbles, turning away.

you giggle under your breath, seeing his frustration. you reach over to his leg teasingly, squeezing his lower thigh. "aw, c'mon, m'sorry," you mumble, as he looks back, scoffing out a laugh. "whatever, kid. feeling less nervous?"

your heart beat faster against your chest at your now closer proximity. whilst you certainly feel less nervous, you didn't want him to know that. your bit your lip. "not really," your murmur, to which his lips tilt up a bit, sensing your bluff. "no?" he questions.

you nod in agreement, you eyes locked on his, transfixed by the blue. you bit your lip, sitting up straighter in your seat. "yeah...i dunno, i was kind of hoping for a distraction?"

rafe lets out a laugh, catching your drift, leaning back on his seat. "nah, kid, thats bad. m'not gonna mess you up when you got all pretty. the press would love that."

you pout. "i dont mind..." you trail of, keeping eye contacy as your hands trails up his thigh. "please?" you all but whisper.

rafe purses his lips, hand rubbing his jaw. after a moment, he flicks his head in a nod. "alright, c'mon."

with his signal your slowly lean over, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. when the kiss starts slow, rafe breaks apart, smirking. "gone all soft on me?" he whispers. you swallow as your eyes remain on his lips as his do yours. "maybe," you whisper back, reconnection your lips in a more heated kiss, climbing up on his lap.

rafe moves your long dress to pool over the two of you, his hands holding the silky thin material covering your back. your hands gripped his biceps through his suit, humming into his mouth as your lips continued to dance.

your panties brushed over his lap and each time you moved you took in a sharp inhale of breath, causing him to grin into the kiss. his hands moved down to your ass, squeezing the plump covered skin, resulting in you arching your back into him, pressing you into his chest.

"so needy," he mumbled against you, hands still laid flat on your backside. with rosy cheeks, you murmur a flustered, "shut up," but dont deny his words.

with your lips still attached, rafe slipped his hands under the silk, his hands hot over your skin. i hum against him, reaching down to fiddle with his belt, breathing into him.

he hummed back, toying with the lacy sides of your panties. "sure you want to?" he questions breathlessly in a low voice.

"mhm, m'sure," you respond, eyes flickering up from his belt to meet his, cheeks red under his hot gaze. all of the sudden you felt shy, your movement faltering.

his lips quirked up warm smirk, he slid his hands off your skin and moved them down to his belt, finishing the job for you. "i got it," he murmurs, eyes locked on yous.

you bite your lip and looks down, watching as he slides his pants and boxers down to his ankles as you sit up a little. his hands move to your waist, moving you back up his body to hover over his lap. you look back up to him sliding you panties to the side and lining up your entrance with his dick.

you sink down, both of you sucking in breaths at the contact. rafe throws his head back, eyes shutting at the sensation and squeezing your waist, letting out a low groan. you clench around him at the sounds and bite back a whimper, hands pressing against his shoulders.

"oh, rafe," you sigh, body slumping in pleasure as he fills you slowly. "i know princess, i know," he murmurs, voice filled with the same lightness as yours.

"doing so good," he praises, leaning forwards to place a kiss on your shoulder. you hum, starting to lift yourself up, before slowly sliding back down.

rafe guides you, helping to ride him, slowly. every movement pleasurably stings, his length filling you up, causing you to squeeze around him.

euphoria fills you as does he. you feel the warmth of his hot breath against your skin and his hands over the silk covering your hips, the soft grunts and graon coming from his perfect lips. his throbbing head hits your spot, causing you to let out a breathy moan and grip his chiseled shoulders.

when he feels you clench around him, he grins, sliding his rough hands up your back. "close, yeah?" he whispers, and you quickly nod, a pout on your lips and your brows furrowed. "mhm," you answer, biting down on your lip as you look down, watching as you lift up, your dress moving aside to reveal the sight of your around him, causing you to take in a sharp inhale of air.

rafe follows your line of sight, and bites his lip, concentrated on the movement. he looks back up at you, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek, bringing you focus to him. "hey, look at me," he orders, "want you lookin at me when i make you cum."

you hum, folding your lips inwards as you continue to ride him, not looking away from his face.

"rafe," you whimper, movement getting sloppy. "i know, i've got you," he mumbles, his hands moving down to once again guide you up and down his cock.

"shit," you curse, feeling that coil in your stomach tighten. "m'close."

"let go, baby, c'mon. i've got you."

at his word, the coil burst, euphoria washing over you as your throw your head back, eyes rolling back.

rafe marveled at the sight, in awe as he watched you come down. his hands kept moving you up and down him, letting you ride out your high.

you collapse on top of him, panting into his neck as he let out a chuckle, holding you close to him. you two sit in silence, chests heaving up and down with every breath. "feelin less nervous?" rafe humorously whispers, causing you to let out a breathy laugh, lifting up to dismount him. his words lead you back to reality, remembering that in just a few short minutes, you would be strutting on a red carpet.

you hum. "much. how do i look?"

rafe tilts his head as he tugs his pants back up, considering you. "like you just got your shit rocked."

you scoff out a laugh. "seriouslly."

he laughs. "you look good. you always do."

your cheeks get rosy. your lips form in a pout though, once you realize that you were the only one who came.

he sees your guilty expressions and smiles slightly, waving it off. "dont worry, i'll be ok."

your lips lift in a coy smile. "im not worried," you say, your voice tilting seductively. "we may not have enough time right now but..." you trail off, sliding your panties back up your legs. "i have a good feeling im going to need to slip off to the bathroom somtime during the show, and of course i'll need my bodyguard to escort me," you say, playfully.

he pokes his tongue into his cheek, shaking his head. "your trouble."

you dont respond to his statement, simply shrugging before slumping back into your seat, pulling out your lipgloss and hand mirror, fixing the smudge. after checking over the rest of your appearance, you put everything back in your purse, smacking your lips and looking out the window.

you watch as the car rolls up, the sight of fans, paparazzi, and flashes filling your view.

you sigh, look to the side to see rafe getting ready to step out. he tilts his brows. "ready?"

you nod, biting your lip. "ready."

#rafe cameron #obx #outer banks #outerbanks fanfiction #rafexreader #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fic #popstar!reader #bodyguard!rafe #popstar!reader x bodyguard!rafe #bodyguard!rafe x popstar!reader

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yougavememyopia · 1 month ago

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Tags: Manipulative masochistic yandere, mean annoyed reader, stalking, yandere behavior, isolating, cursing, hair pulling, choking, he does a lot of stuff without consent.

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"Hellooo~? There you are. I've been looking all over for you. Where have you been? Don't tell me you're avoiding me..." Your stalker whined in that annoying tone, making you roll your eyes almost instinctively. "Because I'll be really, really sad."

You shifted on the grass you were sitting on, debating on whether to stay or flee. It didn't matter. He would follow you around until you gave in and talked to him.

He sat beside you, too close for comfort. You finally looked at him as he made a small whimpering noise. You knew that indicated him crying crocodile tears if you continued your negligence. "You're driving me insane with your bullshit."

"Aww, are you getting tired of little ol' me?" He smirked. He knew you hated when he acted all cocky, so he decided to pout instead. Looking up at you with a soft, innocent look. "But... but I've done so much for your attention. Look, I even wore this pretty sweater for you."

"I don't give a shit. It's not going to change my view of you. You're a fucking nutcase. It doesn't matter what you do, I'm still gonna reject you."

His face fell. A blank look on his face. It was always scary when he showed no emotion. Like you were getting a glimpse of his true self. You shifted your gaze away, unable to control the shivers you got. Were you too harsh? He always acted so fake. You could never tell what he actually thought.

"You say that, but you'll miss me. I'm the most interesting person around!" His cute smile returned. He clasped his hands together and brought it up to his cheek. "You won't admit it because of your big ego. But I know. Under your cold exterior, there's a softie."

"If I want you around, it's not because of that. It's because of your psychological manipulation, dumbass. The love bombing? Ring a bell?"

"Ah, so you admit it! You do care about me! You want me around. I'm your favorite, right~?" He leaned his cheek into his hand. Batting his eyelashes at you to drive you more crazy. "Might as well go ahead and accept me. I'm not going anywhere. You're not going anywhere. It's meant to be!"

"Ughhh, fuck!" You cursed, slapping your forhead. He did this often; twisting your words into something totally different. "Every single fucking day. It's the same thing. You and your delusions. You won't accept my rejections."

"Then we'd never be together." He commented. He furrowed his eyebrows to show confusion, putting his hands on his lap. "We've come so far already. And I know one day, we'll finally be together! Who knows, maybe today is the day."

His head tilted, and he smiled brightly at you. The gesture making your blood boil. He knew how to act right, to seem more attractive to you. His practiced smile and the quiet mumbled voice drew you in. The weirdly submissive side of him appealed to you. As if he was waiting for you to finally take control of him.

Despite all that, you couldn't look past the creepy things he has done. There were the "coincidental" meetings he admitted to being stalking, stating how he couldn't be apart from you for so long or how he was bored without you. The small souvenirs that he collected, like your hairclip, to put on his hair, or even the bigger items that he took, like your hoodie, to wear and show how he was yours. He tried to isolate you as much as he could. Sticking close to you wherever you went. Finding sneaky ways to get rid of other people around you. His unhealthy obsession was slowly ruining your life.

You've gotten used to it all. Not fazed if he did something stupid for your attention. He tricked you into going on dates with him so many times. You were practically dating. It was hard to admit it to yourself, but you had a soft spot for him. For some weird reason, you enjoyed his company. You enjoyed playing with him. He was entertaining. Interesting.

He suddenly crawled behind you, his hands grasping your shoulders. "You're so tense." He leaned in to your ear and whispered. "You've been on edge for a few days now. Do I really scare you that much?"

You scoffed. "What do you think?"

"Please, I'm harmless! I should help you relax. Treat you to a nice massage." He began to rub your shoulders and slowly moved closer to your neck. His hands worked skillfully to press against your tensed muscles. Drawing circles and kneading your flesh. "Maybe more physical intimacy will help. Something different, perhaps?"

He took advantage of your lack of fight and relaxed state. Throwing his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. His face nuzzled against the crook of your neck as he inhaled and breathed out a sigh. "I love your smell. I gotta buy your perfume. Well, I have your clothes, so it's kinda the same thing. I never get tired of smelling you~"

"Seriously?" You mumbled. Your skin pickled from his warm breath. The feeling of him sniffing you with his nose brushing against your sensitive skin gave you small shivers. His grip on you grew tighter as you tried to move. His grasp on you almost suffocating. You kick the grass in exasperation. "Augh... Fuck you."

"Is that a promise~?" He giggled and rubbed his nose against your neck more deliberately. "I love the way you talk to me. Always so aggressive. So passionate~ You only act this way towards me. Like I'm special to you."

"Haah..." You clenched the grass beside you. Fingers poked with their pointy heads while you hold onto your anger. "You always do what you want. I never gave you permission to hug me."

"You need it. It'll calm you down. Take away all that stress. And! And.. I give the best hugs ever." He squeezed you tight against his chest. "But if that's not working, I can always try something else. Something that feels even better."

Before you could protest, he began to kiss your neck. Placing long, soft kisses against your skin. Finding the right spots that made you shudder. "Ah...! Hey-?!?"

You struggled against him, but he was determined. Weirdly strong for his short stature. His hands pulled your shirt lower so he could have more access. Kissing along your neck to your shoulder. His tongue joined in between the pecks. It brushed over your skin, coating everywhere with saliva. He lapped at your skin, drawing a line from the bottom of your neck all the way up. Goosebumps covered your body. Your cursing and protests still being ignored.

You reached a hand up to his hair, pulling it, trying to get him to stop. "You're crazy! Let me go."

"Nngh!" He moaned out. You couldn't win with him. Anything you did, he loved. Treating him like garbage or ignoring him completely. He was utterly devoted to you. "Oh, that felt good. Do it again. But harder. Pretty please~"

"Fucking masochist. How did I end up with someone so messed up?" You tugged his hair again, more firmer this time, making him moan louder. He started doing different things to your neck, sucking and nibbling on the skin. You couldn't control the small grunting noises from spilling. "I swear, if you leave a mark, I'll choke you to death-!"

He seemed to like the threat. His movements becoming frantic. He was definitely leaving a mark. Just to despite you. "Mmh~ Feels good..." His hands started to rub under your shirt. His nails digging into your skin.

He panted against your neck as you stopped. You rubbed his scalp instead, enjoying the feeling of his soft, well-cared hair between your fingers. He nuzzled against you, hugging you loosely. "Ahh... You didn't struggle as much as I thought. Did I change your mind? Do you believe me now when I say that I won't ever leave? Oh, that reminds me. I think it's about time I move in with you."

"What the fuck are you going on about?" You sighed in annoyance. His love was driving you insane. There was so much a person could take until they compromised with the weirdo who wouldn't leave them alone.

"Oh, come on! I've been waiting forever. I'm moving my stuff in first thing in the morning."

You pushed him away with force. Pinning his shoulders to the ground and climbing on top of him. "You're makin' me really angry. I don't want you around. Why can't you get that through your thick skull?"

He chuckled, looking up at you. "I'm not giving up on us. Ever. You're stuck with me whether you like it or not. Plus, you've got nobody else to turn to, remember?"

"Ughh." Your hands close around his throat with force. "You act this way to provoke me. You enjoy this. Do you get off when I do these things to you? Hm? Is this what you want? I can't believe I actually fell for you. Good-for-nothing stalker."

He arched his back and closed his eyes, humming slightly. He was enjoying every second of this. You tightened your grip. The lack of oxygen making him squirm underneath you, but he knew you'd never kill him. His hands grabbed your knees. He just had to touch you in some way. Clingy as ever.

"I wanna do something that'll make you speechless for once. You're always doing unexpected things to me. Well, how about this?" You leaned down and kissed him. Pushing him further down and roughly shoving your tongue past his lips. Secretly, it was an excuse for you to be reminded of the sweet cherry taste in his mouth. You knew he did it on purpose to lure you in.

This wasn't your first kiss. He frequently planted small pecks on your cheeks and "accidentally" on your mouth. Though, after the second time, it was obvious he was doing it on purpose. While you kept protesting, you couldn't deny the spark you felt when your lips met. It felt good— unfortunately, it seemed like this batshit crazy guy was your only option left.

He groaned softly, relaxing and allowing you to do whatever you wanted with him. Kissing you back with passion and trye devotion. He always emphasized how he was yours to use. You pulled away to look at the smirk on his face, your hands cupping his cheek. "Don't look so happy. This doesn't mean I'm accepting you. I just, sometimes, like using you. But you're not moving in."

"We'll see about that. I bet I can change your mind." He commented, leaning his cheek to your hands and chuckling. "I have a few compelling arguments. I can cook. I can clean. I can do anything you want me to. So, won't you please reconsider? Pretty please?"

Pt. 2

#yandere #yandere oc #desperate yandere #obsessive love #yanblr #dom reader #male yandere #sub yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #masochistic yandere

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appleblueberry-pie · 10 months ago

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Explaining your First Love to the Yandere's

A/N: "The Yandere's", meaning as many yandere's i think I can characterize as yandere's as perfectly as possible without burning myself out. Also, are the pictures too much?????? Also, I couldn't find a good pic for Sugu without picking the one where he's literally going insane LMAOOO. Love how my semi-debut for my yandere characterization for him is shown w a not so pleasant picture of him(they're all perfect). Anyways, this is probably gonna be my most chaotic, yet organized, post about jjk ever. I have a solid plan and will go through with it. It's friday and this is me "letting loose" before the weekend. Also, the first love story will be pulled from my own experience. With multiple twists to it to make it sound as interesting as possible.

SCENARIO:

"Mmmm. I remember my first love." You hum in a pleasant tone as you start to reminisce events of who you first gave your heart to. "I loved him so much, it was insane. Because....we grew up with each other. We used to be like this." You twist your fingers together, smiling at him as you explain. "He was an embodiment of me, as I was of him. I don't remember a time we weren't friends. I think it helps to mention that our mom's were friends and they were neighbors. So....we've always known each other. He's a year older than me."

You two were out in the park on the grass. He suggested a little picnic together, hoping to bring you two closer so he could possibly make more moves to be more than a friend. But you were so oblivious to it, even going as far as talking of your first love as if you still missed this stupid asshole.

"I still miss him." You go silent for a few seconds and stare down at the checkered blanket, smiling. He gapes a little and resists the urge to scoff. "We both loved playing video games, we watched the same tv shows, went to the same elementary school....a lot of things happened between us. He didn't like me back, though. I confessed to him when I was 9 and he said no." You laugh. "But even then, I still loved him. I still feel it, too. For some reason, my love for others doesn't really go away. Just sits at the bottom of my heart to make more room for others."

You sigh and continue talking about the guy. "He just grew more and more....attractive as I grew up. I am pretty sure he's why I have my type that I have in men currently. He's very tall....a deep voice." You sigh, closing your eyes to remember. "Relaxed, closed off.....I heard him on the phone when our moms were talking a month ago. He sounds....so different. I don't even know what I'd do with myself if I saw him again." In real time, he watched you unravel slowly to show how.....inf*tuated you were with this guy. You were so focused on naming his qualities. As if you could picture him perfectly in your mind.

"I'm so glad we don't talk to each other anymore. I ruined our relationship. Said a few inappropriate things I shouldn't have said at the wrong time. I haven't spoken to him in....6 years. And I'd rather it stay that way, honestly. Because he's a rather boring person outside of his physical attributes. But I have attachment issues." You pick up one of the snacks laid out between the two of you. "Yeah. I'm done talking about him. I would rather not think of him anymore."

YANDERE REACTIONS:

Sukuna:

Sukuna was baffled. Anger, frustration, fear, and even jealousy kept his tongue from moving. He thought this moment wouldn't ever happen in his life. He thought this wasn't a possibility. Your extreme disloyalty to him was what made him clench his hands in anger. But if he rationally thought about this, you don't know. You don't know how much he loves you. How much the Ryomen Sukuna loves you. You were supposed to be his in all lifetimes. He felt like he absolutely knew you were pure. You smelled pure and your energy felt pure when he first met you. So why were you fixing your mouth to say such disgusting and unfaithful words to him as if he wasn't right there?

He wanted to ask you if you've been trying to give yourself to him like a whore, but he knew that was just him overreacting. He wouldn't ever say such things to you, anyways. He wanted to change for you and was trying, starting with these stupid little date settings he knew you loved. A fucking park. And here he was being stabbed in the chest multiple times without your knowledge of it. It was all your doing.

He might be human in this lifetime. He might be nothing but a mere human for you to toy with freely, and he would let you do it to him. But he would never allow a puny roach get in the way of getting what he deserves. He deserves you and he will have you, one way or another. And if that means cutting a small piece of your heart out just to keep the rest, then so be it. He can't have any piece of you in him. Just thinking about him makes another vessel pop in his body somewhere. He will kill this thing.

Kento:

Maybe he was overbearing. He really just couldn't help but feel insecure. There should be no real reason for you to bring up a man from the past. Someone that should clearly be out of your mind. Was he boring? What did that fool have that he didn't? And why did you mention it while you two were on this date??(It wasn't a date, but it felt like it to him) Maybe he was too plain. Men like him were just smokers and loners, of course you'd bring up someone else that can satiate your desire for real love. It's all because he couldn't. Not in the way you want to be loved.

But he knew, he knew that he was enough. He knew he was your type as well, so, what did you mean by he was the type you have in men?? What does that mean for him? Will you use him and throw him away? He doesn't want to be used and tossed out like trash. He wanted to be yours forever. He wanted to be your man. Your man. He wanted to be your lover, your obsesser and the one you obsess over, not that imbecile. He wanted to be skin to skin, he wanted to be under your skin, he wanted to make his mark on you and for you to do the same to him. He deserves your love. But here you are expressing it for another man you haven't even spoken to in over 6 years. He deserves that type of commitment, there's nothing he's done to deserve it this late.

"I love you." The words slip out like oil on water. And it makes his heart oh, so much lighter.

Suguru:

"Heavens. I'm glad you aren't talking with him now." Suguru chuckles and shakes his head, peeling off more strawberry leaves for you. "This is why." He points with the strawberry at the people walking past and then gives you the strawberry. "This is why I don't want you talking with them. They do this to hold you in their clutches, I've seen it." Suguru sighs as he recalls your story in his mind. Jesus, was it trying to hypnotize you? If so, it was working. No worries, it won't be around to mess with your mind much longer.

"They actively lie, they laze around, let their emotions control them, and then try to manipulate you to stay with them to be their stepping stool." He brushes your hair back neatly, and you scrunch your eyebrows at his words. "But I know you're better than him. Better than all of them." He calls out your name and stares into your eyes with a look that makes you flustered. What is his problem?

"You are the light. You are one of the most strongest and intelligent sorcerers I have seen of this time. You hold up your potential and continue to blow my mind with how beautiful your soul is. I am constantly drawn to you and your energy, I never get enough of it. I don't ever want to hinder you and I don't want anyone else to hinder your energy. That's why I will kill that filthy animal that tried to touch you." It's scary, the way he maintains eye contact with you and spits the nastiest insult about the man you once loved with your whole heart.

"I can't wait to get to know you better. You've been teaching me so much. Maybe you can tell me about your favorite nature spots and we can relax there whenever you're free. And sometime later, I could also take you to meet my family. You'll love my two daughters." He laughs lightly, knowing Nanako and Mimiko would adore finally having a real mother worth of raising them. Together, you and him would be unstoppable.

Choso:

Choso was finished with peeling the mandarin for you. You kind of were confused about how he went about doing this, though. Because all over his lap were the smallest bits of mandarin peels you've ever seen. But the mandarin looked perfect. He obviously took his time. He handed it to you softly, smiling. You accept it happily and begin peeling.

He was surprised he didn't rip the thing apart then and there. Maybe be should peel things more often. The way you so freely spoke about your love for another man when your soulmate was sitting right next to you, peeling fruit open for you was preposterous. He needed a hug. A lemonade, had to kill someone, something. But he stopped killing people for you(secretly), so he has to resort to acting like he's peeling off that devil's skin. Starting from where the shiny skin first shows. The first piece is always the hardest to pick off and it's hard to choose where to begin. But soon enough, the color underneath began to show. He slowly picked off every. Little. Piece. He heard a yelp of pain and cries of "sorry's" in his head for every piece.

Every single little piece made the air smell more and more sweet and tangy. The more you spoke, the faster he picked. The stronger the smell was. So citrus-y and delicious. It made him smile. He loved peeling this mandarin. Then picking off white strips connected to the mandarin itself, so that it was smoother and you had no access peel. Like veins, they came off one by one. He simply stared at it when he was done. Smooth, perfect. Scattered remains laying everywhere on his lap.

He's never felt this way before. What were you doing to him? What is this twisting feeling in his gut that makes him want to puke? Why can't he breathe? Why does he want to kill the kids and mothers at the playground not too far away? He needs you to calm him down.

He hates this park.

"Here you go, angel." He hands it to you, smiling. You looked a little confused at first, but then took it from him, opening it to take a slice. "Oh, this looks real nice, Cho. ......Why are you smiling like that?" He shrugs, picking up one of the strawberries you brought from your place. "Like what...?"

Toji:

Toji was silent. The awkward silence he was creating between the two of you made you nervous. He was sitting close to you, leaning over to you, his arm supporting his weight behind your back with your shoulder touching his chest. He was just staring down at the bowl of strawberries. ".....Toji?" Your soft voice made him sigh.

No, he couldn't do it. Killing you won't kill the pain and anger in his chest. This was probably the angriest he's ever been. He wanted to shout at you to apologize for how you were making him feel. But what he really wanted was to feel your lips on his and for you to shut the fuck up. For some reason, every time you open your mouth, it always ends with him degrading further and further off the side of sanity and just going completely ballistic.

You saw his hand on his hip. The hip that wasn't actually his hip, but was his gun he was resting his hand on. He would feel so much better if those shrieking rats would shut up. Fucking rodents running around you two freely like he wasn't about to ruin everyone's day.

He wouldn't say he was often traumatized, but he could've went his whole life without hearing that story. Now he has to find a random man and kill him for stealing your heart. I mean, the least the bastard could've done was reciprocate his feelings and not leave you feeling helpless. "I could treat you better than that dick." You flinch at his words before smiling, averting your gaze as well. "Oh....." He leans in closer to your face. "Where does he live, huh? Is it the prick with the glasses?" "No?" "The one you work with?" "I-I told you I haven't-" "Eh, whatever. I'll find him and kill him." He smiles at your bashfulness and grabs a few strawberries from the patch.

Sometimes he forgets you don't care much for how he says things. If the right message gets across, you usually don't mind how he says it. But he just blatantly threatened to kill him. You grab the leafless strawberries from his hands and begin eating. Nah. You were his, for sure. He sighs and lays down on the blanket, staring up at the blue sky.

Satoru:

Satoru nodded along with your words, his hands trembling. When you smiled, he did. When you sighed, he would, too. And when you finished your story, he had to swallow the thick bile in his throat. You were just....recalling old memories, that's all. Nothing else. He tried to focus on the grass blades he felt through the blanket. He tried to focus on the sounds of the kids running around squealing.

He watched you eat some of the cold grapes he brought you. They were big, and you praised him lightly for finding such a great batch. He nods quietly and stares down at his lap. Everything was fine. You were fine, and so was he. "Satoru...?" Honey dripping naturally in your voice makes his head turn automatically. The worry etched on your face made the strings holding his mind together break one by one. "Are you alright..? You're sweating."

Nothing was fine. He can't believe you just said that to him. Why would you..? Why did...? Why?.....wait, why?? Why??? Why why why why why why WHY would you do that? Why would you say that to him? He sacrificed so much for you. He killed all of the assassins that went after you when the higher ups found out about you and him getting closer. He paid off your parent's debt secretly. He paid your rent. He woke up early in the mornings to talk to you because he knows you like to wake up to see the sunset. He memorized all of your schedules when you have special weeks, special breaks, he memorized all days that you memorized, he knows what mattress you like to sleep on, he knows how you like certain foods to be seasoned, he knows your favorite weather and season, he didn't fucking learn all of this about you for nothing!! WHY don't you ever appreciate everything he's ever done for you? Why don't you notice him? Why don't you love him? He stalks you every day to understand the type of man you would want to live under your roof and be under your covers and that wasn't enough.

He's been so alone all of his fucking life. No one understood him like you do. He couldn't help but open his ribcage, breaking them off of his body to one by one to let you touch his hot beating heart with your cold fingers. He wants you inside of his heart forever and never let you go, can't you understand that? He hasn't slept in three days, predetermining what he was going to say to you during this picnic, and you tell him that?? Just fucking kill him. Kill him, kick his face, spit on him, ruin him like you're doing now. He clearly doesn't matter.

"Satoru??"

He's supposed to be the one you compare playing video games with, he is supposed to be the one you watch the same tv shows with, he was supposed to go to the same school as you!! His skin is on fire, he can't breathe, his mind hurts, the grass blades are irritating his skin and the children are making his migraine worse. Are you saying something? He can't hear you. His ears are ringing.

He wants to be him. He wants to rip open the skin and spine of the man who lived in your soul since the dawn of time and crawl into his body to experience what he experienced. He wants to do all of those things with you as kids and live with you, grow with you, let him be your infatuation. He wants to rewind time. He wants to die. He wants both of you to die and be reborn to be given a second chance he can never ever have.

"Satoru!"

Your face is twisted into heavy concern and slight fear. Satoru sat in front of you, staring at you. He hasn't moved in three entire minutes. His face was covered in bucket loads of sweat, his lips twisted into a tight smile that threatened to break into a million pieces. The corners of his lips wobbled as if he was going to cry, but his eyes were wide open and dry. His legs, arms, and back stiff as he sits in such an uncomfortable position, it had to hurt. You were scared for him.

Can he hear you? You slowly raise on of your hands to touch his cheek and he flinches under your touch, finally blinking. "Yes?" You purse your lips and bring out a cold water bottle from your basket. "Here, maybe you should drink some water." He takes the water bottle you dropped into his hand. "Thank you." He whispers and sighs, twisting open the cap. You watch him guzzle the whole thing in 5 seconds. "......maybe we should go indoors." He nods, closing the now empty water bottle. "Yeah. The sun is hurting my eyes."

No part 2's. Because I don't like continuing old plot and I love seeing people go crazy for me not continuing good content.

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that-sarcastic-writer · 5 months ago

Text

A Ballad of Lost Souls

Eric Draven (2024) X f!reader

Summary: what happens when two lost souls find each other? Cling to each other? Love could be a very dangerous drug indeed. You and Eric meet during rehab.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, brief handjob, hair pulling, choking, size difference, size kink if you squint, bit of inexperienced!reader, Eric is actually a sweetheart, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of substance abuse, addiction, mentions of suicidal thoughts, this movie is dark what do you want me to say

Reader has tattoos, but has no further specifications, y’all get to be tattooed girlies today, you’re welcome

WC: 5.7K I’m sorry

Inspo creds @kingkat12, she also posted an Eric fic with the same concept and some of the elements of this story like some of the dialogue bits were inspired after reading hers. Please give her some love! She’s a great writer

A/N: NOBODY LOOK AT ME. idc, I love Eric okay, stfu. I just had to write him. He just needs love man. That’s all. I want to give him love. So here you go. I might make a part two if there’s enough interest. When I tell you the Eric fic supply is LOW, I’ve never seen one so LACKING. So I just had to yk? Enjoy and don’t cancel me alright.

You didn’t often dwell on the past. You had a live in the moment kind of mindset. You didn’t know where you’d be tomorrow so you made the best of the moment. But sometimes, you wondered just where your bad decisions were taking you. You didn’t mean to end up here, in this awful bubblegum pink sweater and sweatpants, surrounded by people who didn’t care why you were here, or if you got better or not. The disappointed words of your mother played in your head, and the angry words of your father hammered in the back of your head. You were a fucking disappointment, and that’s why you were here.

You thought about ending it. This mess your life had become. It wouldn’t be too hard to find a razor around here if you truly tried. Who would miss you anyway? What even was the point of it all? By day two you couldn’t take this shit anymore. And then you saw him in the yard. You were almost entranced by him. He was so tall, he towered over everyone he walked past, you couldn’t imagine how ridiculous you would look standing next to him. You could see his ink cover his hands and fingers, and you wondered just how far the ink traveled. You were intrigued by him, he was quiet, morbidly so, he didn’t say a word to anyone, no matter how much they pressed or tossed him around, he just stared. Whether it was the doctors, the counselors, the guards. He always chose silence. And he always had this look of defiance, of apathy, he took everything with a locked jaw and deadpan eyes. And that intrigued you.

Should you try to entertain anyone in this facility, let alone the loner covered in tattoos? No, absolutely not. But lord, something about him drew you in.

You caught glimpses of him for a few days, in the cafeteria when you walked past him to your table, maybe he thought you didn’t notice, but you caught him turning his head to watch you walk by. One time, your eyes met, they were a pretty shade of green. It was brief though, as soon as he realized you caught him, his eyes were in front of his plate, but not before you managed to flash him a tiny smile. Welcoming, playful.

Eric remembered that.

The next time you saw him was out in the yard. They encouraged exercise in this place, for some dumb reason. The most people did around here was stand in a corner, feeling completely miserable under the scorching sun. But much to your surprise, after some time walking around the yard you found Eric, lingering by the gym equipment. It wasn’t much, just a pull up bar and that was barely tall enough to accommodate him. No weights, of course, because someone could hurt themselves, or someone else with them. It wasn’t much, but you couldn’t help but watch as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, revealing even more tattoos going up both of his arms. You stood in a corner like a fucking weirdo, watching as he did pull up’s, as best as he could having to bend his long legs to accommodate the short bar. Why were you just staring at this man you’ve never even spoken to? Of that you had no clue. But you couldn’t take your eyes away. He had his back to you, but even under the material of his white t-shirt you could see the muscles in his shoulders tense, his arms flexing with each pull. And you could only I magine the true sight of him. Sweat dripping down his forehead, lips pulled between his teeth as he did each pull. God, you felt like such a pervert. You shouldn’t be eye fucking him like this, but you couldn’t help it, something about him twisted the most secluded corners of your mind.

Ultimately your trance was cut short, since it didn’t take long for a group of guys to take interest in whatever Eric was doing and went straight to push him around some more. You frowned, almost upset by the sight of him getting tossed around and hazed like this. You couldn’t hear what was happening, but Eric had his head down, chest heavy as he clenched his fists at his sides, but he otherwise did nothing. You didn’t care, any fucks you still had to give were gone the moment your parents and your ex-boyfriend conspired to send you here. You were about to walk over there, not caring about what weird opposite sex rules this place had. But when you started walking, Eric did too, getting shoulder checked as he pushed his way past the group of guys. You felt awful, you wanted to say something to him, but you were frozen when he walked past you, his green eyes shooting a quick glance at you, a bit of curiosity laced in them. But you were more focused on how his shirt was clinging to his sweaty chest. And just like that he was gone.

The next time you saw him was during a group meeting that afternoon. You were almost disappointed at first when he didn’t show. You sulked into your seat for the first minute or two, upset you wouldn’t get to see him today again. And then you saw him. His expression as apathetic as ever, like he would rather get beat up than sit through this bullshit. His hair was soaking wet, small droplets of water still falling from the tips of his raven hair. Great, now the image of him in the shower was ingrained into your brain. As if you didn’t feel filthy enough.

You bit your lip softly, sitting up as he sat across from you, his expression blank with disinterest as his tattooed fingers played with the hem of his pink sweater. You weren’t paying attention either, you were more entertained by the way his long legs spread open as he slouched on his chair, taking as much space as possible. You thought about how nice it would be to sit on his lap. You glanced at his hands, they were huge. How easily he could grab a hold of your ass, or hold you still by your neck. How his long fingers would feel so deep inside you. You thought about how easily he was doing those pull ups, and you thought just how easily he could hold you down, throw you around to as he pleased with you. Truly, you would happily let him use you. You could feel heat rush to your face as you crossed your legs, trying your best to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. Why were you lusting so hard over him? You didn’t even know his name.

Almost as if he could hear your pounding heart, Eric looked up to find your eyes lingering on him, one leg crossed over the other tightly. He tilted his head with curiosity, and his fingers twitched around his sweatshirt as your eyes met. He didn’t feel like looking away this time. The longer his hooded eyes were on you, the more nervous you became. You could feel your breath hitch in your chest as his eyes burned you. You only looked away when the counselor said your name, followed by stares.

Shit, were you supposed to say something?

You opened your mouth, immediately closing it as you had nothing to say. You didn’t even hear the question. You pursed your lips and shook your head lightly. The counselor sighed softly and looked to the girl beside you instead. It was common for most people here to refrain from speaking so he didn’t think too much about it. But when your eyes found Eric again, there was a small hint of amusement in his eyes, a ghost of a grin tugging at his plush lips. For the first time since you’ve been here, you saw something other than disinterest on his face.

Perhaps he was just as drawn to you as you were to him.

~~~

You pulled your lips into a disappointed pout as you searched around the cafeteria for his black mullet, not being able to find him. And here you thought today would be the day you finally spoke to him. You were about to sit at the nearest empty table when you found him. Even sitting down he stood out. You smiled to yourself, your heart pounding in your chest with anticipation. You looked around for guards, none were paying particular attention to you so you did it.

He lifted his head slightly to glance at you, a quick second before his eyes were back on his plate. You saw the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. You smiled to yourself.

“I like your ink.” Were the first words out of your mouth. You said them in one breath, afraid he would get up and leave. His eyes lifted from his hands to meet yours, his eyes then fell to your own hands, one of them covered in distinct patterns and colors from your wrist up to your fingers. He wondered what else you were hiding under your sweater, like him.

“Hm.” He gave you a small nod, his plush lips pulled between his teeth in a way that had you clenching your thighs. “I like yours.”

You smiled, the first genuine one since you’ve gotten here.

“I have more.” You whispered, leaning close to him, like it was some secret only for his ears to hear. His eyes flickered with amusement and he gave you another hum, his eyes now looking everywhere they could in hope of finding said secrets.

“Me too.” His lips curved up the slightest bit as he lifted one of his sleeves up enough to reveal more tattoos going up his arm. Your eyes lit up as you excitedly leaned down closer with the excuse of getting a closer look. Your proximity was certainly way too close for this facility.

Leaning impossibly close to him without actually touching him, you looked up at him and with a playful smile you pulled down the collar of your sweatshirt to reveal more designs along your collarbone, the rest of the design hidden by your sweater as the colors continued down your shoulder.

“But don’t tell anyone.” You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to hide your smile. He gave you what sounded like a chuckle and he shrugged.

“Who would I tell?” Though his face remained expressionless, his eyes had a glint that mimicked your eagerness, he welcomed your proximity. “Here he comes.”

You were confused by his words and you opened your mouth to question him as he sat back, his head lifting in the direction behind your head.

“Males and females can’t sit together!” One of the guards, one you had noticed had a particular thing with Eric shouted, roughly grabbing the back of his chair to force him up on his feet.

“Huh? Wait, why are you taking him?” You talked back to the guard. “Hey, he didn’t do anything! I was the one that sat here. I—I’ll move. Don’t be such an asshole! Leave him alone!” You tried to help, even going as far as standing up but the guard was already taking the new owner of all of your attention away. Your heart sank as you watched the guard shout at him as he dragged him away.

He had managed to turn his head back for a second, and when your eyes met, he half smiled at you. He was almost proud of the fact that you tried to stand up for him. “I’m Eric!”

You smiled.

~~~~~~

“Found you.” You skipped into Eric’s room, finally seeing his door open.

You hadn’t seen him since you got him in trouble at their cafeteria the day before. You got in some trouble too. You had a one on one meeting with a counselor about your choice of words and your “temper” but it was nothing more than just a slap on the wrist. Truly, you felt worse about getting Eric in trouble more than anything. You didn’t mean to, you just wanted to talk to him. He must have gotten punished because you didn’t see him during gym hour. You leaned against the doorframe as he turned around to find you. Curiosity filled his otherwise empty eyes, and a glint of amusement replaced the usual apathy in his gaze.

“I never left.” He answered with a shrug as he shuffled through the mess that was made of his artwork. Sketch papers were scattered all over his room, torn off the walls. Perhaps after getting in trouble during lunch they used that as an excuse to go through his room.

“I’m sorry for getting you in trouble.” You expressed with genuine regret, shooting back a glance to the hallway before inviting yourself into his room. Much to the protest of the rational voice in your mind. You looked at the floor as you almost stepped on a piece of paper, you happily picked it up, admiring the black charcoal coating the page before you set it on his bed.

“Is that why you’re here? To apologize?” Eric asked almost cynically as he glanced over at you, not moving from where he stood.

“Well yeah. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” You said sheepishly, a bit intimidated under his intense gaze. There was always a look of defiance in his green eyes, determination even. He gave you a sarcastic hum, which made you roll your eyes.

“Why did you yell at the guard? You got in trouble too, didn’t you?” He asked lowly, his head slightly tilted as he searched for that little thing you did around him, when you clenched your hands at your sides, or your thighs on your seat. His eyes irked with amusement when your fingers twitched at your sides and your lips parted open.

“‘Cause… You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do anything, or say anything. And everyone around here always pushes you around. It’s fucked up.” You answered quietly, daring to meet his eyes. He pulled his lips into a small pout and nodded slowly. His silence was always so nerve wracking to you.

“Yeah, so?”

You scrunched up your face, sighing heavily at his questioning. What did he what you to say? You didn’t know why you cared. You shrugged, picking up another piece of paper by your feet. You half glanced at it as you spoke.

“I dunno.. I just.. Oh my—” You cut yourself off as you gave the drawing in your hand a proper look. You narrowed your eyes, giving the drawing a closer look, and your jaw fell open. It looked like you, your hair falling over your face, dark scribbles covering your body symbolizing the unknown designs on your body, the only intelligible one being the patterns on your collarbone, the same one you had shown Eric. But what truly caught your eye was that you were in fact, completely nude. Truly, his imagination surprised you, he had imagined every curve of your body well, despite not having seen any part of it.

Based on your flustered expression, Eric could only assume which drawing you had picked up. He swallowed, his cheeks flushing pink being caught red handed. But he didn’t look apologetic, at all.

“This what you do in your spare time? Draw naked girls?” You asked with big eyes, the still working rational part of your mind screaming alarms, but a part of you also filled with excitement at his perverted mind. Almost as if you were on his mind as much as he was on yours.

He shook his head. “Just one.” He answered with a shrug, a challenging look in his eyes.

Either you walked out right then and there, and that would be that, or you would go all in. He was trying to figure out which one it would be.

“You are very talented, this is—” You dragged your tongue over your lip as you walked closer to him, catching glances at his other artwork. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached him, his gaze making you shudder. He said nothing as you stooped in front of him, now having to tilt his head down to meet your gaze. God this man was so goddamn tall. “You could totally sell this for some money.”

“But,” you continued, swallowing hard as you looked up at him, and the way his green eyes looked at you made your mind all fuzzy. God, you haven't felt this euphoric since you got here. This rush of adrenaline made you dizzy, but you pushed through it. “I see one flaw in your creativity.”

“Oh?” He bit down on his plush lip, head tilted with curiosity. You hummed and nodded, daring to bring your fingers up his chest. His breath hitched in his chest, but he said nothing.

“I fear you don’t have the full picture. My tattoos are more than just a scribble of ink.” You stated matter of factly, making him breathe out a small laugh.

“Sorry. I work with what I have.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to ignore the feeling of your hands itching up his chest.

“Maybe I should give you more to work with?” Your hands found the back of his neck and you instinctively stood on the ends of your toes, itching to get closer to him.

Eric glanced down at you, his eyes lingering on your own for a split second before glancing at your parted lips, soft breaths escaping you as you anxiously waited. He didn’t have to think about it, he didn’t want to. His mouth was on yours so hard you whined. His large hand found your hair, tilting your head back to meet your lips better.

You weren’t sure when you ended up against the nearest wall, your legs wrapped around Eric’s slim waist as he held you up. You were right, he could hold you up like you were nothing. Truly, the oversized clothes you were forced to wear didn’t do him any justice. You wondered what he was hiding under his sweatshirt.

His lips were messy on yours, his heavy breaths joining your soft whimpers. You were so caught up in the delicious feeling of his mouth claiming yours and his hands touching everywhere he could, you didn’t hear the loud voices of guards calling your name and patient number. Reality dawned on you when you heard shouting down the hall for everyone to get out of their rooms. You patted Eric’s shoulder, forcing your lips away from his.

“Eric—Eric.” You said his name with urgency, making him look at you, eyes filled with greed as he chased your lips. “I have to go. I don’t want to get you in trouble again.”

He nodded after a second, setting you down on your feet after pressing one last kiss to your lips. You had a stupid smile on your face as you successfully sneaked out his room, the guards being distracted as they probably ransacked some poor bastard's room like they had done Eric’s. You glanced behind you as you hurried down the hall, catching a glimpse of Eric peeking his head through his door. He smiled. And it made your heart race.

You could not wait to see him again.

~~~~~~

“Eric!—” You slapped your hand over your mouth, attempting to quiet the desperate sounds leaving your mouth. But the way his tongue lapped at your sensitive clit and his long fingers rubbed against that one spot within your walls that had you squirming.

You didn’t mean to end up in this position, ass naked on top of one of the washing machines in the laundry room, with Eric on his knees and his face between your thighs. Truly you didn’t, you knew you would be in a lot of fucking trouble if you got caught. But the way his lips claimed yours, his tongue lacing with yours, his large hands grabbing at every part of your body like he didn’t know which one he craved to touch more. He just wanted you so fucking bad, your kisses and little rubbing here and there for the past few days wasn’t enough for him, or for you.

“I wanted to taste you so fucking bad.” He muttered against your clit, a groan rumbling in his throat when you pulled at the hairs on the back of his head, inadvertently holding his face closer against you. Not that he minded, he would stay here, with his fingers scissoring you open until you dripped on the surface underneath you.

“Please—fuck. That feels so good.” You didn’t remember the last time someone made you feel this good. Not that you had much experience in this area, but this sure felt right.

Eric wrapped his free hand under your thigh, pulling you to the edge, closer to his mouth. He lapped at your pussy like he needed it, like it was the air in his lungs. The sounds leaving his mouth as your juices seeped around his fingers were almost as filthy as yours.

You felt like such a slut, chasing his mouth with your hips, heaving like a bitch in heat, and quietly begging him to grant you your release, as quiet as you could be with his fingers so deep and his tongue drawing delicious circles around your clit.

“Just like that baby… Just like that.” Eric mumbled, his fingers slipping and crooking against that perfect spot.

Your release was so sudden, and it hit you so hard you were shaking, sobbing violently into your hand. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of your head. Eric dug his fingers into your thigh, his tongue slipping into your hole when his fingers left you.

“Shit—Eric—” You gasped, your thighs shaking as you weakly reached to grab his face.

With a grunt he peeled himself from the warmth of your thighs, he stood to his full height before leaning down to capture your lips. The taste of yourself lingering on his tongue made you moan. Disoriented, you reached down to rub where his cock was straining against his sweatpants. He groaned into your mouth, his large hand flew to catch your wrist.

“It’s okay.” He gave your lips a soft kiss as he pulled your hand away. You gave him an adorable frown, your mind still spinning from your orgasm.

“But you—” He pressed another kiss to your lips, shutting you up. He moved his lips to your neck, latching on to that one spot that had you whining. Neither of you cared if everyone saw the mark he left.

“We’ll have time for that.” He mumbled against your skin. The way he slurred the words made your breath hitch. “Right?”

He pulled back to meet your eyes, blinking slowly as he waited for your response. You licked your lips softly, breath soft as you thought, how could he still question it. You were past the lusting. This was something else. You needed more of him, and it wasn't just sex you were craving. You wanted every part of him, even the parts of himself he didn’t want.

“Of course.. This isn’t.. Can’t you tell? What you do to me. I’ve never..” You couldn’t even form the right words, your mind still fuzzy with all these feelings you had no name for. You didn’t need to explain. Whatever it was, Eric felt the same. And he smiled, he genuinely smiled. And what a pretty sight that was.

“We should go.” He pressed his lips to the side of your head, smoothing down your hair and fixing your sweater. “Can you stand?”

You half nodded, gasping when he set you down on your feet and you instantly leaned on him for support. The sly smile on his face made you want to slap him. But deep down, you wanted to smile too.

~~~~~

The next time you saw Eric, he was walking down the hallway, his tall frame towering over the majority of people he walked past. He wasn’t hard to find. You bit your lip, unable to contain your excitement as you hurried after him. Your fingers brushed his, and almost as if he knew your touch by heart, he wasn’t startled, he didn’t flinch either. When he turned his head, his eyes grew big at the sight of you, the corners of his lips curving into a tiny smile. You flashed him a whole smile, unapologetic about how happy it made you to see him. Your obsession with him over the past two weeks wasn’t something you could explain, you knew it probably wasn’t healthy. But when were you ever known for having healthy coping mechanisms? You found something that filled you and you clung to it.

“Where are you going?” You asked him quietly as you walked beside him. He walked slower, but didn’t look at you much, as not to bring unwanted attention to yourselves.

“Laundry room.” He said quietly, his eyes dropping to meet yours. And you shared that knowing and malicious look. You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips. This time of day usually meant you could sneak off for a little while since most patients were having their once a week visitor, or phone call, which meant less guards were in every corner.

“I’m supposed to be out in two weeks.” You told Eric in between kisses, his lips trailed your jaw as his hands grabbed at your ass.

“I’m out in four.” He answered as he pressed you against the nearest wall. He grabbed your face between his large hands, pulling you to meet his eager mouth. You whined, fists clenched around the front of his sweatshirt. You couldn’t go two weeks without seeing him, you would go fucking mad.

“I don’t want to wait a month to be with you.” You breathed out, your chest heavy as the words left your mouth. “I’m supposed to go back to my parents when I get out. They agreed to take me in to follow my treatment, but I don’t want to go. They’re the ones that put me here.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” You barely heard him as he spoke, almost as if the words pained him, broke something deep inside him. It broke something in you, too.

“You can come with me. I have a little place and some money saved. It’s not much but.. If you want.. We could.. We could try something for real?” You trailed off, afraid he would reject you. It was one thing to mess around in here, where neither of you had anything else, anyone else to cling to, but this being anything other than a desperate bond by two lost souls was a different story. Outside of these walls, he could find anyone else, he didn’t have to keep the broken girl he fingered in a shitty laundry room.

“I would like that. I would like something real, with you.” His words were soft, as were his hands holding your face as he pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed out a laugh of relief. “Fuck this place. We’ll do it tomorrow, during shift change. There’s a vent up here that leads to the yard.”

You pulled him down by his sweatshirt, your lips crashing against his. He laced his fingers in your hair as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You welcomed it, lips parting as you locked your arms around his neck.

“Eric.” You said his name softly in a quiet plea. He opened his eyes to find your desperate gaze. He told himself he wanted to be better, he knew you deserved better, but when you said his name like that, when you looked at him like that. He was no better. “I don’t think I can wait anymore. Please, I… I need…”

“Need what?” His words were coated with arousal, he knew fucking well what you meant. But he wanted to hear you say it.

“Fuck—” You kissed his lips roughly, any sanity and restraint you might’ve once had, completely. You can’t trust an addict to have good self-control, now could you? “Take me. I’m yours, just take me.”

“Fuck.” Now it was his turn to lose his sanity. He gave your lips one last kiss as he squeezed your cheeks between his fingers, licking your lips before he spun you around to face the wall. “You’re a sweet girl, don’t forget that. I swear I will fuck you properly on a bed, with flowers and shit.”

His words were rough in your ear as he pressed his lips to your jaw, his hands making quick work of pulling down your sweatpants and panties. They pooled around your ankles as he kicked your legs open as far as they went.

“I like carnations.” You gasped as the cool air hit your exposed cunt. You heard him chuckle beside your ear.

“Those are pretty. They’re pretty like you.” He hummed as he brought two fingers up to your lips. You happily took them in your mouth. Eric almost moaned at the sight. One of these days he needed to have you sucking his cock. One of these days.

Eric pulled his fingers from your lips and with a kiss to the back of your head, he sunk his coated fingers into your hole. Your mouth fell open, your forehead falling against the wall. You were instantly chasing his fingers, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you happily rode them. You didn’t know how he did it, how he could have you dripping around his fingers in a matter of a minute or two. You were clawing at the wall, silent moans spilling from you when he pulled his fingers from you. He watched almost proudly as your slick coated your thighs.

“Can I take this off?” He asked quietly, tugging at the hem of your sweater. You made a humming sound, as best as you could. As if he needed to ask. Eric was happy to rid you of your sweater, more happy to find more hidden tattoos going all over both of your arms. He craved to find every single one of your tattoos, and kiss every one. But he knew it would be best to be quick.

His own sweatshirt met the same fate, and with a kiss to your cheek, he grabbed one of your hips as he pulled down his sweats enough to free his cock. A groan left his lips as he dragged his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. You gasped, not being able to see him, but already knowing he was big.

“Let me know if it hurts, hm? I’ll take it easy, I promise.” He pressed his lips to your jaw, inhaling your sweet scent as he slowly sank himself into you. Only his tip was in and you could already feel the sting of his cock stretching you wide open.

“Fuck. Fuck, oh my god—” You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers clenching around nothing as he slowly filled your further, inch by inch.

“It’s okay. You want me to stop?” He asked, shushing you softly as he sat still, allowing you to adjust to the burning feeling of his size. Fuck, you should have known someone as tall as him would be this big. Somehow, it didn’t occur to you.

“No. ‘m okay. Keep going.” You reached behind you to touch him, your fingers gracing over the side of his face. He nodded into your neck, one of his hands sneaking to the front of you to play with your clit to ease you as he sank into you until his hips rutted against your ass. He sat still, speaking filthy words into your ear until you were whimpering, needing to feel more. “Eric, please.”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. His pace was slow at first, slow strokes that allowed you to revel in the feeling of his cock in and out of your walls. But as you both began to grow desperate, pathetic sounds leaving your lips and groans of pleasure leaving him, his pace picked up. It was grueling, how he fucked you against that wall. You braced yourself with one hand, the other holding his face behind you as he leaned his head to capture your parted lips into a messy kiss. He swallowed your sweet sounds as the sting of his cock had you squeezing the life out of him.

“Fuck, I have been dreaming about this since I saw you. You always looked so pretty when you looked at me.” He whispered in your ear, his hand wrapping around your hair as he forced your head back, exposing your neck. You cried out, his roughness making you clench around him. He cursed, covering your mouth with his large hand. “I need you to keep it down for me, baby. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?”

You shook your head, doing your best to contain the sounds he was pulling from you. His hand slowly left your mouth, trusting you could keep your sounds to a minimum. You bit down on your lip, eyes squeezed shut as his cock split you open. You swore you had never been this utterly fucked out, so cock drunk before. You had never needed anyone so badly. You had never felt so strongly about anyone. You had always found something to cling to, pain, tattoos, in your more miserable and recent years—drugs, and now him. But him? This feeling he gave you, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. You wanted to hold on to him until your final breath of air left your lungs.

“I wanted this—you—so fucking bad. I needed to have you.” Eric grunted, lips latching on to that spot on your neck where the previous hickey he had left was starting to fade. “I’m so crazy about you, no amount of rehab could fix me.”

You moaned at his words, letting them sink in. He was down so bad for you, probably as much as you were. Two addicts, seeking refuge in each other, craving this adrenaline, it was a kick you had never felt before. It was a kick only lust and passion could bring. And he ignited that deep within your soul.

“Me too.” You panted, lips parting in ecstasy as one of his tattooed hands loosely wrapped around your throat. Fuck, the way his whole hand covered your entire neck made you gush all over his cock. “I’ve never wanted anyone this bad. You—ah!—I need you all the fucking time.”

“Then you can have me,” His fingers squeezed your throat tighter, his thick cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your fucking cervix. “All the fucking time. Forever.”

Tears filled your ears as you could feel your release near, your thighs shuddering as you felt your legs start to give out. Eric was quick to press you further against the wall, his back flush against your chest, sweaty forehead pressed against your cheek as his cock rutted against you, over and over, until you were chanting a string of uh-uh-uh’s, your mind too overcome with the pleasure he was giving you to even speak.

“I want you to come on my cock so fucking bad. I need it.” Groans fell freely from his chest as he once again slipped a hand to your swollen clit. The pressure of his rough fingers made you gasp, your throat closing under his grip. Your release hit you so hard you were sobbing, though mostly muffled by his tight grip. Tears fell down your cheek as your orgasm left you a shaking mess. You had never felt this way before—so overcome with pleasure you cried.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. Good girl.” The hand on your throat left to wipe at your tears, soothing you as you came crashing down.

Eric fucked you through your release, frantically chasing his own. His name left your lips with praise, sobs of your remnant pleasure as he pushed you to the point of overstimulation. But it wasn’t until he felt his own release near that he pulled out of you. Without saying a word, he grabbed one of your hands and wrapped it around his thick cock, his own hand guiding yours up and down his slick length, sweet praises leaving his lips until he was spilling himself.

Heavy breaths and pants of exhaustion filled the small laundry room, the air smelled like sex, and the remnants of your forbidden times were left as evidence. Eric eventually spun you around to face him, a soft smile on his lips. You had only ever seen it once, after he ate you out days ago. It was rare to see Eric smile, but you made it a vow to yourself that you would always make him smile like this.

“How fucked up are we? Finding comfort in each other like this. Did it ever cross your mind?” You said softly as Eric helped you dress. He was bending down to grab your sweater and he stood up to his full height, towering over you, and his eyes were laced with an indescribable feeling.

“When I first saw you, I didn’t know what it was, but I was so drawn to you, I looked for you everyday, and I thought I would go mad if I didn’t have you. And right now, I can tell you it’s not just lust. I’m entranced by you, I need you all the time. And if there’s one thing I learned from this fucking place is that you have to latch on to something, otherwise you’ll drown.”

You were speechless, nothing but your soft breaths could be heard. A smile fell on your lips and you leaned into his chest. Eric sighed softly, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his chest, he’d be damn if he ever let you go anywhere but here.

“Addicts will be addicts, no matter how much they try to fix us. But it’s not always to drugs we’re addicted to.” You sighed softly, closing your eyes as you sank into the feeling of his arms. “This feeling? I never want it to stop.”

“It doesn’t have to.” He mumbled into your hair, in his head reminding himself of your limited time, but he refused to let you go just yet. “Forever, right?”

“Yeah, forever.”

#eric draven x reader #eric draven smut #eric draven 2024 #Eric Draven #the crow 2024 #the crow

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bwat5-blog · 1 month ago

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Pivotal moments for Caitlyn Kirraman

**Spoilers for all of Arcane**

Much Like Vi I wanted to do a run-down of the moments for Caitlyn's character I see as showing us who she is/having the biggest impact for her character. As always I appreciate anyone who takes the time to read these as well all celebrate these amazing characters and story. I feel Caitlyn's arc was massively under-appreciated in season 2 by the fandom and hope this lends itself to backing that up.

*Side Note- I'm doing these in order in her life not necessarily how we see them in the show*

Helping Jayce:

We are not granted a lot of time with young Caitlyn when compared to say, Vi or Jinx, which makes sense of course given the focus of the story. However, what we are given perfectly demonstrate the bedrock of who we come to know. She is shown as bright and curious and eager, helping him carry supplies to the lab. She is also shown even at a young age standing up for Jayce to her parents, sitting out in the rain to speak with him, and as shown above, identifying herself as a misfit. Now on the surface its easy to say she falls into the "rich kid who doesn't belong" trope. But as we come to know her she is truly so much more than that.

Who Do You Shoot For?:

Building on Caitlyn's compassion and defiance in the face of the system she is born into, we have her shooting competition with Grayson. First of all we just get a glimpse into the tough, skilled marksman she will become. But going deeper, we have her interaction with Grayson at the party. Once again she demonstrates that ever-so-polite defiance, humorously confronting the sheriff of Piltover for letting her win. But its their conversation after that's important. The sheriff tells her being skilled with her rife means protecting people, and Caitlyn must decide who she is shooting for. I would liken this to Vi's lessons with Vander. Because while we see Caitlyn go through so much pain and darkness, ultimately when she finds her way back who is she? A leader will go toe-to-toe with anyone for those she wants to protect. For those she shoots for.

The Airship incident:

This our first real moment with Caitlyn as a character and it tells us several important things about her. Leading up to it, we learn her parents disapprove of her being an enforcer, and manipulated her posting to keep her close by for which she is resentful. This is not surprising, as we come to learn her genuine drive to help and make a difference. She goes to investigate the airship alone. We see her detective's mind at work for the first time, playing out the incident. We then see her interaction with a massive, tattooed undercity criminal who is wounded. She is kind, gentle and respectful despite her role as an enforcer. Furthermore, when Marcus confronts her, he says she's interfering AGAIN. Caitlyn may be naïve and sheltered when we meet her, but she is not PLAYING at being an enforcer. She wants to help, and is actively trying to figure out what's going on in the undercity, apparently long before she even meets Vi.

The Hexgem theft:

This marks Caitlyn's first interaction with Jinx, which could not be more important to her Arc. Her very first impression of the woman she could never have known would impact her life so greatly, is a manic terrorist who lights a building on fire and fakes that a child is trapped inside before setting off bombs that kill multiple of Caitlyn's peers. Also of note, although not unexpected with what we have seen from her so far is that she rushes in to help and is the first one to notice the danger despite being a rookie enforcer.

Meeting Vi:

Meeting and freeing Vi is Caitlyn first step into the wider world around her and has immeasurable impact on her character. Her love story with Vi aside (I love it to, its just I could write pages on them alone and I am trying to cover all of her arc in this post haha) we also see her head strong, determined nature in this moment. Remember, she has already been reprimanded for unauthorized investigations into Silco and the undercity. We have been told she has a history of this. When Jayce goes to see her after the explosion she is still investigating, and now she fakes Jayce's authorization to free a woman she doesn't know in order to chase her lead. SHE. WILL. NOT. QUIT. Sound like she may be a good fit for a certain head strong boxer who lacks patience but is always honest? Anyway, the other thing we see here that is a small moment and not unexpected given what we have seen from her, is her disgust and discomfort over how the prison has treated Vi.

Saving Vi Part 1:

Vi is almost certainly about to be killed when Caitlyn intervenes. She accurately strikes Sevika multiple times with her rifle and is controlled and calm. At a first glance her accuracy and skill are plenty commendable. She hits the same spot with accuracy, lands with clear athleticism to join Vi, is calm, collected, confidant and restrained enough not to Kill Sevika. As soon as the threat is passed she tends to her wounded ally. Now here's the thing. I didn't do a bullet point for it, but consider Caitlyn's behavior following Vi down into the lanes. Part of it is of course that it was unfamiliar and shocking when vi took off, and Caitlyn just wasn't used to that sort of thing. But she was kind of adorably clumsy and unsure. She never really moves with confidence and strength, until of course she pulls our a rifle and starts blasting a woman who just stabbed her new friend with pint point accuracy three times. The moment someone's life is at risk Caitlyn shows us this entirely new side of herself. Perhaps the side of her that will someday lead the front lines in the battle of Piltover?

Saving Vi part two:

n Caitlyn's continuing efforts to save Vi we delve deeper into what we have already seen from her. At the very basic level, she barely knows Vi. Yes of course we are seeing the beginnings of their feelings for each-other. But that aside she is a young woman in her early twenties. She has followed this woman she barely knows into this very dangerous place, saved her from being killed, followed her even deeper while caring for her, and now she follows a shimmer mutated Huck to the "Doctor" to save Vi. I went to Netflix and counted while writing this. It takes no more than ten seconds for her to surrender her prized rifle that is likely custom made for her and she clearly loves, all to save Vi's life. She then hugs the grotesquely mutated Huck out of gratitude after being kind to him, and showing him respect for his help. She does not shy away, is not disgusted. And in fact she lunges for the hug. This ties to her conversation with Vi during this ordeal before she gives up her rifle. In which she is speaking on her belief that Zaunites and Topsiders are all just people. She does not see them as different.

The Firelights:

To me this is a massively important point for Caitlyn for a few reasons.

Caitlyn & Vi: They start off bickering. Blaming each other for what they have played close to the vest. But as soon as Vi is taken away what does Caitlyn do? She is concerned and afraid for her. And when she sees Ekko she demands Vi be released and offers herself instead.

in General: She speaks to her desire to see an end to the killing. Its clear she hasn't known how bad things actually are with the enforcers and the undercity, and is understandably resistant at first. But after only a few moments, she acknowledges Ekko would be within his rights to keep the gemstone but "The Cycle of Violence Will Never Stop" (sound familiar?). She quickly agrees to let Ekko be the one to give the stone to the council, still believing in peace and trying to play a part in making it happen.

**Side note: I didn't do a whole point on it because it's really about Vi and Jinx. But we need to make note that before this Caitlyn has her second interaction with Jinx in which Jinx shows herself to be paranoid, unstable and violent**

The Bridge:

The attack on the bridge is immensely impactful on Caitlyn's character and what I like to think of as the true beginning of Caitlyn's destabilization, leading to her descent into the dark. Thus far, we have watched this extraordinary young woman weather some truly insane events when you consider the life she has lead until now. Even still, she has remained poised, brave, respectful and open. Of course she has heard talk about brutality of her people toward the undercity. She has admitted it was wrong and wants to see things made right. But that is very different than the highest member of her organization shooting her new friend in the chest and getting ready to kill her. Its a sudden and violent in-the-moment thrusting of reality upon her that she has no choice but to believe. Furthermore, we mark her next interaction with Jinx, who has now almost killed her a third time, as well as almost killing Vi and they believe having killed Ekko and who knows how many enforcers.

Testifying To The Council:

So I know I am repeating myself some here. But that is intentional. The show is driving home for us that Caitlyn is truly a good person. Everything she has been through up until now with Vi is intense, scary, and destabilizing. She and Vi have very real feelings for each other and we end this section with very sad moment in which it seems hopeless for them. But its leading up to that I want to discuss. Caitlyn stands before the council of Piltover. The richest and most powerful people in her immediate world. With her mother on the council it feels reasonable to assume she knows these people. They probably have watched her grow up. And yet in her early twenties after earning the knowledge the hard way what does she do? She stands before them and calls them out for their failures. Including herself in that. She takes a stand against the neglect by Piltover that made the people of the undercity vulnerable to dangerous criminals. She commends Vi for putting herself at risk in helping Caitlyn, and never throws Vi under the bus as Jinx's older sister. And when Vi gets upset and leaves Caitlyn tries to get her to stay still insisting their must be a way.

Abduction From Home/Dinner Party:

In her next interaction with Jinx, Caitlyn is taken from the safety of her own home, and held hostage until Jinx initiates her dinner party with Vi. The events of the dinner party set the stage for the next chapter of the story dramatically affecting every character we meet, and Caitlyn is no exception. As this is the end of season 1, a brief refresher of who we have come to know up until this point is in order:

Clever, bright and loyal young girl who will defy convention to stand up for those she loves

Tenacious and dedicated teenage girl who doesn't want to earn her victories and is pondering things like who she is shooting for

Dedicated rookie enforcer who will not be deterred from investigating wrong doing and corruption no matter the cost

Open minded and trusting young woman in her early twenties who saves someone she barely knows life, even at the cost of her prized weapon and her own safety multiple times

Displays her desire to see peace with the undercity multiple times and verbally equates the undercity and topsiders in terms of humanity going against the classist behavior of characters like Marcus for example.

Treats Vi with tenderness, loyalty and trust even before they really get to know each-other.

Now. The reason I ran that down again is because THAT young woman in her early twenties is the person you see in the GIF above you. Jinx has now tried to kill her repeatedly. Killed her fellow enforcers. Tried to kill the woman she is having feelings for, even though that woman is her sister. Has abducted her from her bathroom naked, and now has her here. She looks utterly and completely terrified and I don't blame her. And to top it all off, after hesitating to take a shot at Jinx due to her feelings for Vi, Caitlyn is knocked out violently and THEN HAS TO WATCH JINX KILL HER MOTHER.

RETURN TO PILTOVER:

Caitlyn and Vi return to the upper city in the wake of immense tragedy and we see Caitlyn trying to hold it all together. Her whole world has gone black & White except for Violet(s). She is trying so hard to keep it together but already we can see the cracks forming. Even with all that has happened she maintains her testimony of Jinx being the only issue which is instrumental in preventing more violent Piltover retaliation. But we must also recognize her (totally understandable just jarring) desire to end Jinx's laugh forever, Mel's comments to Jayce regarding Caitlyn hiding it well but being in "So Much Pain", and Caitlyn asking Vi to put on the uniform of an Enforcer, when she knows Vi's history. Caitlyn is suffering and trying to hard to hold things together.

The Memorial Attack:

Caitlyn is drowning in grief. Her relationship with Vi is tenuous. She is expected to rise to meet her mothers role in city. She is holding on for dear life to her ideals and perceptions of reality that have shaped her as a person. Now the attack on the memorial is incredible as a fan for many reasons. But for Caitlyn we need to keep two things in mind as we move forward that at extremely impactful in understanding her:

There is no reason to think she and the others would not assume that Jinx had ordered this attack, or at the very least assisted in some way. The last they saw of Vi's sister she had just struck at the very heart of Piltover's government and its entirely reasonable to assume this attack is an extension of that. So I think its fair to say we can consider this Caitlyn's next interaction with Jinx even if its all mental.

Up until now, Caitlyn has never used any broad-stroke negativity toward the people of the undercity. She has addressed individuals, or perhaps a specific group of people in the undercity such as Silco's goons. But never called them Trenchers, Sump rats or any of that other stuff. Here in her rage, we see her refer to the people who attacked as Animals. Now in the moment, its entirely reasonable when pertaining to the attackers. But it is a noticable shift in her that tells us she is already (quite understandably) being swallowed by what happened.

The Strike Team:

Caitlyn leading the strike team into Zaun and utilizing the grey has been the source of much controversy. Its a clear escalation in her willingness to do violence against the undercity but when you consider everything we have talked about its hardly a shock. However, this show does a good job of letting us know Caitlyn is not totally lost to her pain. All we have to do is think critically:

While the use of the grey is extremely dark and absolutely morally questionable, the fandom's decision to portray it as mustard gas/sarin/pick your lethal poison is nonsense. We have seen multiple characters exposed to it multiple times and live. Its debilitating in the moment and uncomfortable and I'm sure is unhealthy over long exposure. Its tear gas.

Caitlyn's small targeted force is the alternative to full-scale invasion with hex tech armed enforcers. As I have said in various posts, by this point in the story Piltover retaliating is not an if. its a when and how bad. Caitlyns plan is the only reason an army of Enforcers does not march into the undercity at this point.

All that to say this. While she is clearly heading down a dark path, excising the hyperbole of the fan-base determined to demonize her and taking into account the whole of the circumstances surrounding this part of the story we are shown Caitlyn is still in there. But she is losing the fight with her inner-demons.

The Kiss:

We all cheered here. I did. You know you did. But I think we all knew the heartbreaking truth here as well. It was far too late for her to keep her promise to Vi. And in truth, it wasn't a fair thing for Vi to ask (BEFORE YOU COME FOR ME- Vi is my favorite character, and I have written extensively in her defense against the absolutely inane criticisms people have been levelling at her character). It's not Vi's fault, she has lost everyone she loves and is terrified watching the last person she has left be warped by the darkness in their lives. But when you consider the totality of paradigm-shifting suffering Caitlyn has endured since meeting Vi, I don't know how anyone couldn't change.

I have seen people say that Caitlyn was wrong to promise Vi. Wrong to kiss her in this moment. Those people are holding these characters to unreasonable standards in the extreme. We are seeing Caitlyn trying for the woman she loves. She sees the vulnerability and fear in Vi, the woman she loves so much, who she has been through so much with (and who has donned the Enforcer uniform for her) and of course she has a surge of love and a desire to comfort Vi. The love and tenderness is undeniable. But when you take in the context of the situation, It feels like we are waiting for the floor to fall out from under us. AND BOY DOES IT.

The Battle/The Break up/The Rise of the Commander:

I group these together because really its the transition of Caitlyn as we know her into "The Commander". This whole section is in a word, heartbreaking. We see Caitlyn fighting tooth and nail against Sevika, she likely saves Vi's life as it seems like Isha's gun was going to go off (whether the child meant it to or not), and Vi stops Caitlyn from taking the shot. Leading to Caitlyn lashing out in the worst way, telling Vi she is no different than the woman who killed Caitlyn's mother (AKA the version of Vi's sister Caitlyn knows Vi carries immense guilt over) and ending her status as the only enforcer never to abuse Vi, leaving her holding her stomach and crying on the floor while Caitlyn abandons her. We then see Caitlyn chosen as the commander, taking her place by Ambessa's side, becoming someone who would betray everything she used to stand for .

Its easy to look at this, and feel anger at Caitlyn. Especially as someone who has always connected with Vi's character and as someone who really loves their love story it leaves you feeling violated. But that's the thing, it should. We are not watching Caitlyn choose power out of a desire to destroy her enemies or because she thinks she deserves it. We are watching the tragic culmination of this brave, compassionate, brilliant and tenacious young woman being swallowed by the darkness. What's the line from Hamilton? "There are moments when your in so deep, it feels easier to just swim down". She has lost her mother, her sense of safety, her belief in the system of law and order she has lived her whole life by, and now the woman she loves. And in swoops Ambessa, a warlord. A woman renowned for her cleverness and manipulation. She takes this vulnerable, grieving, isolated and angry young woman and tells her she will get her justice. Caitlyn never had a chance.

**A small pause to discuss grief and peoples absolutely insane take on Caitlyn's handling of hers**

I am going to take a second here before we move on because due to the rushed pacing of season 2 Caitlyn doesn't get the detail she should have after this point, and because the discussion of her loss and grief is essential in understanding how this all happened. This is one of those things I have written about before but peoples dogmatic opposition to media literacy continues so here we go! "Ku Klux Kirraman!", "Oh the people of the undercity live in constant pain and death but Caitlyn loses a single family member and starts gassing kids?!"

To put it simply my friends. Grief is not a contest. Yes, of course the people growing up in the undercity have a much better understanding of death and grief than Caitlyn. up until the events of this story, she has lived a life of peace, and privilege, and comfort . And that's not a bad thing. ideally all children would know such a life if we could work our will upon the world right? But what it means for her is that when she does experience that loss, to say nothing of it being at the hands of a woman who has tried to kill her repeatedly, tried to kill the woman she loves, killed her peers, and abducted her naked from her own bathroom, Caitlyn's entire world is shifted. I have mentioned multiple times during this whole thing. She is only in her early twenties. That is so young.. so fucking young to have your world shift SO VIOLENTLY in such a short time. And in the standard incredible fashion of this show, they have addressed this concept already. Remember this?

Vi is angry at Jayce for bowing out due to the under city child's death. And for her, for the way she grew up she is totally justified in feeling that way. She grew up surrounded by death. But its just too much for Jayce.

I sincerely hope all of you reading this never have to cope with the loss of a loved one but we all know that's not reality. So if you are one of the people demonizing Caitlyn for what happens here because Zaunites have it worse I'll ask you this. The last time you lost someone, did you chastise yourself because someone somewhere has it worse? No. Because that's unreasonable, illogical, and would be a cruel standard to hold yourself to. Grief is achingly, agonizingly personal to each of us. And while it does not justify Caitlyn's actions, you are simply blind folding yourself to the humanity of this character by ignoring it

Months as the Commander:

As I said unfortunately we don't get to see a lot of Caitlyn "as the commander" but we do learn some things. There are check-points in Zaun, they are imprisoning people, and under the oppressions she has allowed to flourish the Noxians are able to do things like violently arrest people for having a non-violent rally in the Undercity itself. THINGS ARE NOT GREAT. But there some things of note I want to discuss in understanding Caitlyn's state of mind during this time:

The top GIF is not long enough but watching the scene you can see how distant Caitlyn is, how cold. She is not a "happy-go-lucky" facist gleefully imposing her will. We are actively watching someone in so much pain and so buried by her mistakes she doesn't know how to find her way out.

2. All is not lost however. She discusses her issues with the Noxians behavior, she openly questions Ambessa, she has forbidden the use of the cells where she found the love of her life, and despite her mentor's glee over the opportunity to utilize Singed and his knowledge. Caitlyn knows him for what he is, a monster.

Reunited With Vi:

The pacing just takes off at a dead sprint once Vi and Caitlyn find each other so I will touch briefly on the various points I want to for this section. I will say this, I know we all have feelings on how they handled Vi and Caitlyn's reconciliation. I am of the opinion that it was justified by what they showed us completely, but it was still rushed. Like they got the right answer on the math question but only shared the basics of every step to solving it if that makes sense.

Saving Vander

Vi and Caitlyn have this first interaction after so long and its so clear they have both changed so much. But what matters is this. Even after everything Caitlyn has done, Vi trusts her with the truth (Because Vi refuses to give up on those she loves), and Caitlyn immediately is on board. This happens so quickly and we only see them discuss it a little, but we need to think about what this means. Caitlyn finds out the "Weapon" is Vi's dad, and she is ready to turn on Ambessa, the enforcers with her, and the whole system. All for the woman she loves

2. The Battle of the Commune:

So I couldn't find a good GIF for it but even before this moment while Caitlyn is angry when she sees Jinx she doesn't make a move toward her. Then we hit this moment here. If you flash back to the battle that ended in Caitlyn breaking Vi's heart, Caitlyn wanted to take a shot that very likely could have killed a child if it meant hurting jinx. Now Jinx is running with her back to Caitlyn and ALL she cares about is getting to Vi

3. Taking Accountability:

We find out in this confrontation that although Jinx is in jail, it is because she surrendered. Not because Caitlyn ordered it. We also have a few key examples of Caitlyn owning what she has done:

"I KNOW!"- when confronted by Vi over letting Ambessa poison her heart

"We can't erase our mistakes"- She doesn't say "Jinx" can't take back her mistakes. She says "We" and "Our". She is clearly remorseful.

This rolls directly into her conversation with Jinx in which we see even more that Caitlyn knows what she has done:

"No good deed can erase OUR crimes"- Once again holding herself to the same standard as the woman who killed her mother. Holding herself accountable

"I've hated myself"- This could literally not be more clear

*On Cait and Jinx*: I've touched on this before but the parallels between these two are phenomenal. Broken, vulnerable, isolated grieving young women taken in by older, cleverer mentors with their own agendas but who care about them directing their pain for their own purposes. They then both have to learn to end the cycle, or the killing will never stop. Damn this show is so good.

Freeing Jinx:

Caitlyn made a lot of mistakes. That's not a secret. There were reasons as I and many and others have explained. But in this moment, she has intentionally paved the way for the woman she loves, to free her little sister from Jail. This comes after Cait admitting she doesn't want to hate Jinx any more. The cycle has to end. And Caitlyn admitting she has made mistakes, she has hated herself, she has lost herself to the darkness she now knows she has inside as well. And on top of that, she is here showing Vi that Vi is not alone, that Vi is loved, and that she knows Vi so well she knew what she would do and tried to help. its beautiful, its heartwarming, and after watching who Caitlyn was be shattered into pieces, we are now seeing her re-forged, stronger and more beautiful.

Commander Indeed:

Here we have Caitlyn becoming the commander she should have been. I believe I saw a post that one of the voice actors of the show suggested Caitlyn did nothing during the final battle and got her happy ending. Lets recap shall we:

Leads her troops from the front

Tries to take out Ambessa early and spare bloodshed

We have the bad-ass scene of her fighting with the mask taking out multiple soldiers

Even with a rifle at the back of her head she disables Maddie and tries to take out Ambessa

With a knife in her side and exhausted and scared she challenges A WARLORD OF NOXUS to a fight. "Shut Up and Fight!"

Sacrifices her own eye to take Ambessa out of the fight.

This is all pretty clear cut but I mean god damn. Her character evolution is absolutely staggering.

The End:

Caitlyn ends her story (for now anyway.. looking at your Riot) with the woman she loves. She has surrendered her spot on the Council to Sevika officially granting the undercity a place at the table. And we see her pondering the hex-gate ventilation system, perhaps giving us some hope that Jinx will return as well. I totally understand there are things people wanted to see with Caitlyn that we didn't get to see. But all we can control is what we were given. And when you look at the story of Caitlyn Kiramman, Born in wealth and privilege but with dreams of helping people, to being swallowed by grief, to finding common ground with the woman who took her mother from her, to rising as a leader who doesn't ask her people to fight when she won't and who willingly sacrifices herself for those who look follow her, I'd say she has one hell of an arc. I hope I did her some justice. This actually ended up being longer than i planned but man the more I think about her the more in-depth her story gets. I appreciate all of you.

#arcane season 2 spoilers #arcane season 1 #caitvi #caitlyn kiramman #arcane

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brownblob · 6 months ago

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"I Love You"

When the words "I love you" spill from the prefect's lips, how do the Housewardens react?

Part 2

TW: Kissing in Leona's part, mentions of insecurities (Fluff)

Part 1 (Separate): Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto

ᥫ᭡. Riddle Rosehearts ᥫ᭡.

Like the thorns on a rose bush, Riddle's words were piercing and harsh. A follower of rules and also a preacher. Even so, what rules could he apply to you? You who was from another world entirely, you who understood little of his world yet were so brave, and you who broke his rules but never angered him. He was so utterly confused. He wasn't sure what he felt, really, you were far from perfect- mother wouldn't approve . Still, he couldn' t deny how his cheeks flared up when you walked into the same room, how he'd slightly fumble his words, and especially how his warnings were much tamer when you broke a rule. It all had to mean something or maybe he was going crazy. How could he like you, even a little- but how could he not?

But he had priorities and you weren't supposed to be one of them, you weren't meant to be a worry, you weren't supposed to be anything. But he cared. So much so, he didn't mind when you broke his rules, it felt right. It was the opposite to all that he was taught, something was amiss. It felt like a fresh breath of air, akin to sunlight engulfing him in a warm embrace. He felt at peace when you were nearby, as if he needn't be so uptight. Maybe it was alright for a few rules to be broken, to enjoy what life had to offer, to allow himself to relax.

He really was grateful for your calming presence, reminiscent to a fresh cup of herbal tea- with a slight hint of cinnamon, subtly spicy. Just like you were, not quite sweet but not sour, maybe spicy was the right term? So earthy and full of life, different from his dull self. But with you near him, he didn't feel so dull even he could be fun- at least you enjoyed his presence, it was enough.

Despite that, you weren't fair- why did he feel so warm when you came close? What right did you have making his face go red, and not from anger? Who allowed you to be so ethereal?

It wasn't fair.

How you were so insufferably pretty, and the way you'd willingly spend time with such a hot-head like him, trying your best to follow the rules of his dorm. You'd try to accommodate yourself to him, you'd really do that for him? He could just melt in your arms. The way you didn't mind when he lectured you for your recklessness, not speaking up but simply eyeing him with wide eyes- how was he even supposed to speak? You'd study alongside him, let him tutor you and afterwords you'd always stay for a cup of tea. He got used to it- your company and your mannerisms. Different from him, yet truly appreciated.

It was another tutoring session when something unforseen took place. Your hand was raveled in your hair as you grumbled and groaned, you hadn't expected the study packets Riddle provided to be so difficult. You had a test in two-weeks, it was time you started practicing practical magic, lucky you having Riddle by your side.

It was a tough night full of nit-picking, you'd say he was mean but you could see how he was trying his best to be tame with his words- how they were harsh but not mean, truly, this was also a challenge for him.

Hours went by, the moon rose in the sky and you were a tired mess, at least Riddle's tutoring helped. You were just about to thank him when the words spilled out of your mouth, unknowingly. Sleepy eyes looked up at him while a soft smile played at your lips.

"I love you, you know?"

How cruel of you to simply doze of afterwards, would you not even listen to what he had to say? Maybe it was for the best, if you were awake he wouldn't be able to meet your gaze. After all, his face was even redder than before, butterflies in his stomach as he simply stood there- had he been dreaming? He hoped not, it would be sadistic of life to play such a joke. He only realized it wasn't a dream when your head touched his hand, you were asleep and comfortable- you felt safe around him, trusted him. It was endearing.

Nevertheless, it was improper for you to doze off all of a sudden. But, just for today, he'd allow you- 'rules are meant to be broken', was what you always said. This was his form of breaking a rule, such a rebel he was. His hand traveled to your face, cupping you cheek gently before he draped a blanket over you- red like roses and Riddle himself.

"I love you too.."

A whisper, he hoped you heard it. Maybe you did and maybe you didn't- he might say it once more, after you awake. Till then, just let him admire you who looked so serene.

ᥫ᭡. Leona Kingscholar ᥫ᭡.

You're really gonna keep trying, aren't ya herbivore? Always trying to push him to go to class, to set his life straight. Really, why do you even care? Every time he pushes you away, orders you to bring him a snack, tells you to remain his pillow. You do it. Why do you stay? No one else would- he's a prince, is that it? His wealth, his influence, the power he holds. Is that what you want a part of? Everyone else had, just to ditch him after.

If you do, he doesn't mind- just stay, please don't go.

He wouldn't admit it but he liked your presence, the way you constantly clung to him, tried to lend a hand to help him who was strong while you were so weak. He might just go to class now, and he does, much more than before. You're a motivation he works for, it brings a smile on your little face. He wants it to stay, he doesn't even know why.

What really affects him is when he realizes, that you stay not for his money, nor his power and influence. You just like him. You enjoy his company, him as a person, an individual. He's not 'the second prince of Sunset Savannah' to you. No, he's Leona Kingscholar to you- not a second option, not someone you'll leave any time soon, and someone you genuinely care for.

Fine then, if his herbivore stays for him- he'll work them. You are a motivation to him, with your sweet words and the time you willingly spend- he too will work for you and be your reason to remain in Twisted Wonderland.

Was it selfish of him to want you to stay, no matter the cost? Maybe, but he is a prince- some habits don't leave, especially not when he's found his reasoning to move forward. He'll change some of his ways for you, it's cute when your face lights up as you notice him heading to class.

He doesn't change every one of his ways though. Why would he, when those ways of his allow him to see your face? You being pulled by Ruggie and towards him to wake him up, and you do- soft nothings spill from your lips as your try to wake the lazy lion before you. Of course he's awake, it's clear he is when he pulls you beside him. His weight stops you from moving, it's a usual now.

"Just stay for a bit, yeah? I promise I'll go to next class after, so just stay with me."

You do, it's comforting but so confusing. It's not appropriate for you to have feelings for someone like him, a prince of another world- you might have to go back to your won, though, you don't really want tot leave when Leona's around. It feels as though you're doing something meant for 'more than friends', something wrong. None of you confront it. It's serene in this silence, his warmth, in his embrace. It's a mutual feeling of safety, a haven. Let it last while it does, he'll make sure it's forever.

"I love you."

And the words spill out of your mouth, no ones near, just him and you. One of his eyes open, a neutral look on his face- you're not sure what to make of it. You don't have to, he's just shocked, not that he'll admit it. He didn't expect his herbivore to be so bold, he likes it, he likes you- loves you too. A grin soon flashes on his face, sharp canines flashing before he pulls you closer. You know what he's insinuating, you abide. He has a hold on the back of your head, hand intertwined in your hair.

It's a surprisingly soft kiss, it makes you want to melt- this is his answer, his reciprocation to your declaration of love. He's too smug to say anything.

Then the both of remain, safe in each others embrace. Your legs are entangled and chest touching the other's, you both relax.

"Love you too herbivore."

It's fleeting words, so soft that you barely heard them and if you did, you're not sure it's reality. As you seem to doze off, there's one thing in your mind. Where else would you go other than his embrace? This was your home.

ᥫ᭡. Azul Ashengrotto ᥫ᭡.

A swindler in the flesh and a contract that binds one to the other. Azul wishes it were that easy, but it's not. The last thing he wishes for is your hatred, you're already wary of him. The interactions he does manage to secure, somehow quite frequently, always render you even more skeptical of him. So guarded and cautious, his reputation's not the best but he isn't a monster, so why are you always scurrying off? Just let him speak, please?

But fate has another plan in mind for you always seem to bump into the swindler that you seem to avoid so- match made in heaven? As if. You won't believe his sweet lies, you won't sign a contract with him- but that's not what it's about. He doesn't wish for a contract, just some of your time.

As your interactions with him increase, you're introduced to very many versions of Azul. Being a swindler was just one part of him, the one that made wary. Nonetheless, he wasn't a monster- quite sweet actually, once you spent the much needed time with him. Words were exchanged, and you were warming up to him, slowly but gradually. Placed on his palm is your trust for safekeeping, you hope he doesn't break it.

As time goes by, you realize the swindler isn't at all what he seems- he has his own walls guarding him, his own insecurities. It's not what you expected, yet it adds to his character- it makes him human, he has a heart. The parts he hides are what attracts you to him- he sees it as a moth to a flame, hiding his failures. Yet, you look at it as a bee to a flower, so dainty a bond but so sweet.

Days go by and you notice how shy he can be, the smallest things can fluster him who seemed so sly. It's endearing, really. Your walls slowly break down, revealing your true person while he allows you to see glimpses of his own self, slow but steady. You don't mind, you both can take your time- walk hand in hand towards trust.

It's another night in his office, spent with him working on contracts. He truly is a hard worker, ambitious too. You admire those qualities, maybe not all the work he does but him as an individual is what you like. You don't seem to notice how the three words roll off your tongue, hand tangled in his locks of gray, seemingly playing with his hair; until you do, in fact, realize.

"Azul, I love you.."

Ink is spilled everywhere, the black coating the table and contracts on it. The pitter patter of the liquid allows him time to realize what you really said.

Those words that spilled of your tongue- so sugary sweet, could it be true? No contract needed, no form of force just his presence alone would suffice? He was enough.

His hand clutched yours tightly, ocean eyes looking up at you from his seat, tears spill from his eyes. He was so vulnerable in that moment, you found his true self as he had found yours. It's a nod from you that shows him that it's not a joke but reality.

"I-I love you too.."

He fumbles the words out too, a faint blush coating his cheeks as he looks away and to the ground. A giggle escapes your lips as you plant a kiss on his cheek.

Maybe the swindler was swindled by your love, except there was no catch- just your love, all for him.

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yandere-romanticaa · 2 months ago

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I really enjoy the idea of a man like Ayato going into a tea house for some fine entertainment. The entire event is primarily disguised as a business dinner, but the Yashiro Commissioner knows better. He has been rubbing shoulders with this type crowd ever since he was a tiny lad. Besides, the eagerness which his dignitaries display is far too obvious to hide. They cover their grins behind their long sleeves, eyes gleaming with excitement and thrill at the thought of tonight's prospects.

Truthfully, Ayato was just as much of a savage beast as the men around him.

The key difference was that he was better in concealing his more perverse nature.

With a serene smile Ayato enjoyed the show, his eyes never leaving your figure, not even once. It was obvious that you were new amongst the girls, their saccharine grins far too picture perfect to be natural. You swished and swayed your body to the soft drums, making extra sure to highlight the best parts of your body as the table filled with customers in front of you cheered each of you all on, happily tossing shiny Mora in the air.

It was so hard to focus under Ayato's gaze. You knew who he was, everyone knew who he was. After the dance the ladies from the establishment cornered you, asking you questions on what the nature of your relationship was with the handsome commissioner. They advised you to stay docile and sweet in his presence, that you should never make a fuss and by doing so, not only will you never go hungry ever again, all sorts of doors could open up as well.

As expected, Ayato had ended up summoning you for a private show.

It was a very hush hush affair, with him being the only person in the room. He greeted you with tea, cakes and all sorts of tiny gifts which he had prepared before hand. By the end of the evening, you were no better than honey in his hands, hanging onto his every single word and whim, catering to his every desire he could come up with, no matter how small or silly it may be.

Ayato found himself enjoying how free you were, how open you were with your heart and desires. It was refreshing, like sweet spring air after a dark storm and he soaked it up like a sponge. The entire nature of this relationship was also beyond thrilling as it allowed him to unwind after a long and hard day of work.

However, he knew better than anyone that most things in life don't last forever. He could continue to play coy only for so long and since Ayato was not in the mood for games, he decided the best course of action to take was to just buy you out. He had the money and you would surely enjoy the comfort he would provide for you.

It was an ideal situation, truly.

He sat you down and shared his plans, eager to see a happy grin on your face as you chant Thank you, Master Ayato! over and over, as you tripped on your feet in a rush to embrace him.

Ayato typically likes surprises. They keep things fun and interesting, but the one you told him was anything but.

With confidence, you told him that you had no desire to stop working in this place, shamelessly admitting that you enjoyed making the various clientele satisfied with your services, regardless of how dirty it could be. The freedom, the pleasure, it was too much to give up.

His lips formed into a wicked little grin as his felt his heart beat through his chest. In a way, he admired your attitude. It was dazzling just how bold you had become and how you were so unafraid of him.

After that night, you figured that you would never see the man ever again.

Days went on, customers came and went and there was no sign of your dazzling commissioner. That did not stop the whispers and rumors from spreading like wildfire, particularly from the more devious or jealous women which you worked with. Venom would coat their words as they would eagerly remind you of just how you had cost them one of, if not the best customer in the entire nation.

It was difficult to tell whether or not they were celebrating this fact of it they were legitimately upset with you. However, this storm would soon come to pass, or so you had hoped. You always found it a little odd how Master Ayato had just left you to your own devices, how he hadn't bothered to pull any strings or just flat out threaten you for disobeying him. Most men in his position could afford such a luxury because the fallout would be next to none.

It would cost him nothing to just toss you onto the cold, dark street like a wet dog. He would not even need to break a single sweat to make you fall apart.

But your pride was too strong. It burned deep in your belly, the desire to spread your wings and do as you wished. Mora was the key to solve all of your problems and in due time, more than enough was going to be saved for any possible endeavor of yours. On several different occasions you had confessed to Master Ayato that you had wished to buy better make up, prettier clothes and a better house than you had already owned. Not to mention your unyielding wish to explore the world, to see step foot into each nation and see their glory with your own two eyes. You wished to sip on fine Mondstatd wine, to see the bright lanterns in Liyue, to watch the night sky in Snezhnaya.

And he had listened patiently to you, soaking in each word. He would pat you across the head or pinch your cheek and mutter how one day he was sure that all of that would come true.

People always did say that a person ought to be careful for what they wished for. Why?

Because they might just get their wishes granted.

On a chilly autumn morning, shouts rang loudly from outside of your establishment. Confusion was written on everyone's faces as they stared at the main entrance, trying to figure out who was causing the commotion.

Suddenly, the door was kicked down with such brute force that you could not even gasp, the wood simply breaking away from the hinges. Soldiers in armour filled the room, weapons in hand as they shouted about some arrests being made.

It was hard to focus with the commotion around you.

The soldiers were brutes, kicking away and smashing everything in sight. Fine paintings and scrolls were all over the floor like trash, the dashing kimonos and dresses snatched from their stations by feebleminded men, none of which cared for your safety and security.

Cries filled the air the head of the establishment was dragged by two soldiers, their arms wrapped tightly around the woman as she begged and pleaded for mercy, forgiveness and everything in-between. The pristine makeup she had so tirelessly worked on was but a fleeting memory, leaving only large traces of inky black mascara falling down her pale cheeks and messy blood red lipstick strewn across her tiny lips.

It felt like a nightmare come to life.

Like a vicious snake, a handsome man in white garbs had slithered inside the room, his steps so quiet that not even the wind could sense him coming. He clapped a few times, the pristine glove on his hands shining underneath the morning sun as the Yashiro Commissioner stared down each person in the room, his sea blue eyes laced with mock pity.

His voice filled the air to a suffocating degree, so much so that it made you choke on your own breath. There he was, Kamisato Ayato in the flesh, standing proud and strong, like an untouchable arrow seeking its target. He was so charming, so convincing that if you hadn't known better, you too would have bought into his lies.

How could someone so handsome be so adept at spewing such filth? Even as he accused your boss of various crimes, his voice was nothing less than kind and concerned.

He felt less like a man and more like a god. A twisted blend of mercy and cruelty who had been brought down from the heavens to cast judgment on mere mortals such as yourself.

In a flash, his eyes locked in on yours and it was all too clear on what he was aiming for. His gaze was deceitfully sweet but underneath that handsome gaze was an ever growing desire to seek, trap and possibly even maim.

Ayato always thought of himself as at least somewhat of a civil man but not even he was immune to the most basic of human desires. Each man who walked the earth was a beast, it just took some longer to wake up and realize that truth.

Kamisato Ayato had bared his fangs and shot you a grin, not even shying away from his true motives. He never lied when he said that he thought that your dreams were going to come true one day.

He merely left out the part that he was going to be the one who would get you there.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yancore #genshin impact #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayato x reader #yandere ayato #yandere kamisato ayato #genshin ayato #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you

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roanofarcc · 6 months ago

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YOU, BRIGHT BLUE

pairing. tyler owens x reader

summary. between the moments of chaos of storm chasing, tyler finds the break in the storm when with you.

warnings. shy/introverted reader, fluff!

word count. 1k || masterlist

To cap off the end of tornado season, it was a tradition for someone from the wranglers to throw a little celebration. It was Tyler’s turn and he had, lovingly, suckered you into helping him with the promise of picking up your favorite dessert for after the dinner.

It was the first party with the newest additions of Kate and Javi to Tyler’s team, and they were warmly welcomed with light teasing that Boone insisted was mandatory hazing. Everyone ate until their stomachs were beyond stuffed, but no one wanted the night to end after that.

You had suggested a bonfire. Tyler had been excited about the new fire pit he had built in his backyard, and the only people who had enjoyed it so far were the two of you. You often rounded off your date nights back at his place, making s’mores and talking until you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

Even with the addition of Tyler’s team, you two still found yourself in your usual spot around the fire, seated on a blanket in the grass. You sat with your legs outstretched and Tyler rested his head in your lap. As the team laughed and reminisced on their favorite stories from the season, you absentmindedly ran your fingers through Tyler’s hair. He chimed in now and then, but when he wasn’t talking, his attention was on you.

His bright eyes studied you in the firelight like always, but no matter how many times he looked at you, he found something else he loved. Every shy smile you gave Kate when she complimented your cooking or light laugh you gave to Boone��s terrible jokes. Despite your quietness, he could tell how much you enjoyed the company of his friends, which he was relieved to see. Tyler had gotten good at reading the little tells in your face since you weren’t much of a talker.

Just by the crinkle of your eye or twitch of your lip, he knew almost exactly what you were feeling. And at the fire with his team, you looked happy, which was exactly what he was hoping for. You hadn’t been around for more than a couple dinners and hang-outs with the team, and he knew they could be a tad overwhelming from time to time just because of their ever-bounding excitement. But knowing that you enjoyed their company as much as he did felt like a weight off of his chest.

Dating you was a different experience for Tyler. He used to think he needed someone who matched his energy or exceeded it; someone boisterous who didn’t know how to slow down. But he had learned rather quickly that was like burning the candle at both ends. Meeting you showed him the beauty in slowing down. He spent his days chasing after roaring storms, wrapped in the heat of adrenaline and pounding hearts. And don’t get him wrong, that was what he loved about storm chasing, but he needed something different when it came to relationships.

You didn’t come barreling into his life at top speeds, crashing into him. You floated in like a gentle spring breeze, soft and calm. In his breaks between storm-chasing, you were his breath of fresh air. It was your slow pace of life that made him fall, hard. But instead of running blindly into relationships, as he had a habit of doing, he played the long game until you became so integral to his life that he knew he had to make a move. And lucky for him, you had fallen just as hard.

It was early into the wee hours of the morning before the team finally departed, giving each other tired goodbyes before they’d spend some time apart, going on much-deserved vacations and returning to their ‘normal’ jobs until it was time to chase again.

While Tyler walked his friends out, you started to clean up a little, yawning as you did so. You were so tired, half-heartedly washing the dishes, when he came back inside and appeared behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close before resting his chin on your shoulder. Soft kisses peppered the side of your face and neck, causing you to smile.

“Come on, these can wait ‘till morning,” Tyler whispered, sleepily.

“Let me just finish these,” you said, but he didn’t let go. His chest was flushed against your back, warming you up more than the fire outside had. He was quiet as you washed the last plate; you placed it on the drying wrack just before he tugged you backward, away from the sink to stop you from cleaning up anymore.

He loosened his grip just enough for you to turn around to face him, resting your arms lazily around his neck. “Thanks for helping me with tonight,” Tyler said, his voice barely above a whisper like he didn’t want to disturb the quietness of his home in the late hours.

“Of course,” you replied, peering at him with the very expression that made him fall in love with you.

There was a beauty to tornados, one that was difficult to appreciate unless you understood them the way he did. The black and green skies, the rotating clouds that dropped down, and the deep grooves they left behind in the ground all held a certain beauty, but it was very different than how he’d describe you. You were bright blue skies and sunsets that resembled paintings. To him, you were the calm before the storm; the stillness that blocked out any rational sense that something dark was looming in the distance.

He brushed a thumb across your cheek and kept his hand holding the side of your face. You yawned again before you kissed him quickly, too quickly if you ask him. “Ready for bed?” you asked, your eyes nearly drooping with your words. Tyler answered with a nod, leading you back into his bedroom where you had claimed your side of the bed. His pillows smelled like your shampoo, and he never slept well without having you in arm's reach. But that night he didn’t have to worry about it because he fell asleep with your head on his chest. Instead of staying awake in search of answers in the dark skies, he dreamt beside you of bright blue scenery.

#twisters #twisters 2024 #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #glen powell #glen powell fanfic #fluff #twisters fanfic

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justfandomwritings · 7 months ago

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Who Hurt You? (Aemond Targaryen - Part One)

Pairing: Aemond x Niece!Unknown Parentage

Word Count: 7.6k

Warnings: This is a "Who Did This To You" trope so the OFC was a victim. It is not described in graphic detail, but please keep it in mind before reading if that may be triggering for you. Also Targaryen-typical cest.

Summary: There was no father in her life from whom she could seek protection in that moment, no father who could rush in and save her from this evil, who could swear to her it would never come for her again. But there was a voice, quiet and gentle and caring, which called out to her "Who hurt you?" and for a moment she thought that perhaps someone cared enough to listen to the answer.

“Princess?”

How different might the world have been if Viserys had let Rhaenyra marry Daemon that night he’d bedded her in the brothel? How different might the world have been if Rhaenyra had run away with Criston Cole when he asked her to flee with him? How different might the world have been if Laenor had not been forced to marry her mother? How different might the world have been if Rhaenyra had not taken Harwin Strong into her chambers? How different might the world have been if she knew who her father was?

“Princess!”

Her features were a mixed bag, some that may have been Daemon, some that may have been Criston, some that may have been Laenor or Harwin, some that appeared to come from absolutely no one at all. Each of them had, at one time or another, looked at her with that sense of possibility, that she might be theirs or their worst enemies. All she could pinpoint were her eyes and her hair, Valyrian to her core. Many pointed to them as evidence of Daemon’s fatherhood of her. Her mother loudly touted it as proof that she was Laenor’s. She doubted it was proof of either so much as it was proof of Rhaenyra’s motherhood. Their hair, their eyes, were exactly the same shade. From the back, many had mistaken her for her mother over the years.

“Princess who did this to you?”

Some nights, when she was feeling particularly lonely, she would play pretend in her mind, decide which man was her father and play act at him loving her. She would pretend Daemon took her up on dragonback back and taught her to fly. She would pretend Ser Criston snuck her sweets and hugs whenever the court's backs were turned. She would pretend Laenor… Well, she never had to pretend with Laenor or Harwin. They had always loved her in their own ways, as much as they could anyway.

“Princess? Who hurt you?”

If she knew her father, if she had a father at all, maybe she could go to him now. She could run inside to find Daemon; she could slide under the wing of Caraxes’ protection where she knew no one would ever hurt her again. She could run to Criston and beg him to take her away as he’d once offered her mother; he could draw his steel and beat back those who tried to hold her there.

“Princess, who did this?”

Someone was grabbing her, shaking her. She felt it in a sense, but in a far greater sense she didn’t feel it at all. She knew it was happening, but she didn’t feel the hands that gripped her shoulders, that tugged her back and forth. The same with the voice, calling out to her. She knew it was there, knew what it was saying, but she couldn’t process the words.

“Princess, look at me.”

Something had happened. Something terrible. She knew that much. She knew the rest too, but by the by it would not come to her. Something had happened to her.

“Princess, you’re bleeding.”

Yes, she rather thought she was. Not a great deal, but certainly enough to be noticed. To be noticed by… someone. Did she even want to know who?

“Alarra!”

She heard that word. She knew that word. Her name. Laenor had given her that name. He had been so kind to her all the years she knew him. He had always treated her as a daughter, claimed her as a daughter, cared for her as a daughter, loved her as a daughter… at least from what she remembered. Perhaps those memories were colored rosy by death. Perhaps Laenor would not have made this situation any better; perhaps Harwin, perhaps a father of any kind, wouldn’t have either. Perhaps Ser Criston or Prince Daemon would have only made things worse. Perhaps this was simply her fate.

“Alarra, who did this?”

She knew that voice. She’d known it the whole time, but she recognized it now.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and Alarra blinked them away. Her eyes, against her will, regained their focus and brought her out of her daze. They brought her back to the world around her. She didn’t want them to. She wanted to stay there, in her head where she felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing. People couldn’t hurt her in her mind. In her body, people could hurt her.

She must have been crying for some time without realizing while she was stuck in her head. Her eyes were already overwhelmed with tears, and she could feel their dried tracts down her cheeks.

Aemond was more blur than man, hunched over in front of her, little more than overlapping shades of silver and black in her watery gaze. Yet even in her current state, there was no mistaking him. The details of his face were gone, but the vague black circle where an eye should have been marked him for who he was.

“Alarra, who hurt you?” Aemond’s voice was quieter than it had been when it called her back to her body, like he knew then that she couldn’t hear him and knew now that she could.

Of course it would be Aemond. Of course he would be the one to find her at her weakest, at her most vulnerable. He had a way of doing that, finding her weak spots.

“Who did this?”

In response, Alarra’s body racked with a sob. Her shoulders were shaking with the force of how hard she cried, and it made some still disassociated part of her mind wonder if Aemond had touched her at all, if Aemond had actually shaken her shoulders as she thought or if it had been her body crying the whole time.

“Alarra, I’m going to take you to the Maester now.” Aemond touched a gentle hand to her upper arm, a far gentler touch than she had ever felt from him before, far gentler than she thought him capable of.

“NO!” She jerked back the moment she realized what he said. Her hands clutched her dress to her chest to keep it from falling as she frantically skittered back on the ground away from him. “I can’t- you can’t- they’ll- no- no- no-”

Why couldn’t Jace have found her? Or Luce? She would give anything for one of her brothers to be here. She would even take her mother or, gods forbid, Daemon right now.

The bush at her back poked and scraped against her bare shoulders and kept her from moving further away. It reminded her of her present state, of the dress barely clinging to her form and the bruises already coloring her arms and the cuts still bleeding at her collar.

“As you say,” Aemond held up his hands in a mock surrender. She could see him now, the panic clearing her eyes of tears. His own eye was narrowed, though not judging or angry, for once, merely cautious.

“No maester…” He stayed there, frozen and unmoving until Alarra ceased, till her feet stopped slipping and sliding uselessly over the ground, pushing for every inch of distance she could win away from him, till her shoulders stopped curling in on themselves hiding the more vulnerable parts of her body from him in favor of her partially exposed back.

Even when she stopped trying to put distance between them, when she relaxed with the surety that he wasn’t going to force her to the Maester, he did not move any closer, did not break the silence in the air.

He watched her patiently, as he so often did. And she, as she so often did, looked away.

“If you take me to the Maester…” Alarra hiccuped around another tearless sob. She felt a need to explain herself to him, to explain before he jumped to his own conclusions.

She hiccuped again as she prepared to subject herself to the mercies of one of the most merciless creatures she knew. “If you take me to the Maester, they’ll say my virtue — He didn’t. I swear he didn’t, but they’ll say he did— What with the rumors about my father, they will say… They will...”

Neither of them needed to address the fact that Aemond was very much included in the ‘they’ whom Alarra feared talking.

Aemond had long questioned the Velaryons’ parentage. He had relished toying with her brothers’ features that clearly weren’t Valyrian, basked in the opportunity to avenge a childhood of mockery and wrongs. She had never before been the subject of his wrath, mercifully spared by a childhood friendship, but the gods knew this opportunity would be too good to miss if she didn’t confront it.

“They will…” She couldn’t help mumbling the incomplete thought under her breath.

When Alarra found the courage to meet his gaze again, Aemond’s one eye was already boring a hole through hers with its intensity, and Alarra thought, not for the first time, that perhaps the gods themselves had plucked out Aemond’s eye. If for no other reason than to quell a potential challenger.

“Please,” she wasn’t sure if there was enough air left in her lungs to voice the word, but she tried to speak it anyway, pushed it out between her lips like a quiet prayer to the gods, a quiet prayer to Aemond.

Aemond looked to be calculating his own course through these uncharted waters just as much as he appeared to be studying her reactions.

“We cannot stay here, Princess,” Aemond spoke in a very stilted, calculated tone, like one reading facts from a book. “You are injured. Your appearance is disheveled. Your dress is in tatters, and if I was as without honor as your family thought I was I could see every inch of your front simply by glancing down.”

Alarra subconsciously clutched her torn dress tighter to her. It was true. The blade had sliced clean through the neck and shoulders of her dress as it cut across her skin. The front would have fallen off long ago if not for her hand, and the weight of the damned thing and lack of support had long exposed huge swaths of skin to the cool night air.

Though, admittedly, up until Aemond’s arrival her dress had been her least concern.

Alarra turned her eyes down to her dress for the first time, again to avoid Aemond’s gaze. It was destroyed. The sleeves were gone; the embroidery was pilling and torn; the skirt was caked in mud; and worst of all, what remained of the neckline was soaked in her blood.

Without warning, Aemond stood.

Alarra’s eyes shot back up and her whole body tensed for a moment before she realized what he was doing.

Aemond wrenched off his black, Targaryen cloak and in the same flourish draped it over Alarra. She grabbed for it as it fluttered down, holding it to her chest.

“Th-Thank you,” she stuttered out the words.

Aemond’s cloak. She was wearing Aemond’s cloak.

Aemond ignored her platitudes, which was just as well for her since she wouldn’t have known what else to say to him. “I’m going to touch you now, Princess,” Aemond said in warning. “I won’t harm you, and there will be no Maesters. I’ll only carry you to your chambers through the servant’s halls.”

It was a chore, to force herself to calm enough for him to touch her, but she knew it was the best course. Her dress was well torn and would trail in ribbons behind her, and she was not sure she could walk. There was no physical damage to her legs, but she did not relish the idea of trying to rise to her feet in this state. Her upper body quaked even now; her legs would no doubt collapse if she so much as attempted to use them.

Aemond approached slowly, cautiously. He looked like a predator about to put his prey out of its misery. She knew he wasn’t going to hurt her, at least not physically, but by the gods Aemond couldn’t help looking like the hunter. There was something to his face. Power perhaps, a touch of ruthlessness, the confidence he had lacked as a child.

His hands slipped around her, one high on her back while his other dipped under her knees. He was ever so careful in the placement of his hands, tucking the cloak around her in his grip to avoid touching any skin. He stood with her in his arms, and she thought of anything else to help even out her breathing as she felt a man’s touch brushing against her even through fabric.

Being at home on the rocky beaches of Dragonstone. The soft feel of braiding her mother’s hair. The sound of a crackling fire in her room. The smell of the salty, ocean breeze off the water. The taste of her favorite wine on her tongue.

Every hall Aemond turned down she made a new list, and her breathing remained steady so long as she kept thinking of things.

Balerion’s skull on a pedestal lit by candles. The dowse of warm water as Jace threw her in the sea. Caraxes’s roar when he flew overhead. The scented oils anointing her baby brother’s skin. Luce’s piss poor attempt at roasting rabbit as they camped in the woods.

Aemond said nothing while she made her lists. Perhaps he was calculating some plan of his own; perhaps he was simply giving her the space to think. Before tonight, she would have presumed the former, but now she was unsure.

Viserys on the throne. The soft threads of her embroidery. The nurses singing lullabies. The awful smell of the stables. A morning cup of tea.

They walked in absolute silence, and Aemond took every precaution not to be seen. He ducked down the hidden passages known only to those who had truly mastered the keep; he stopped at the sound of every approaching footstep and hid behind pillars or corners. At one point, he pulled her into an abandoned meeting hall for several minutes as two servants stopped outside to chat.

That had been a particularly painful few minutes, and she had refocused her efforts to list those things that meant the most to her.

Witnessing Daemon and Rhaenyra’s wedding. Vermax’s rough scales under her fingers as Jacaerys introduced her to his dragon. Harwin comforting her with sweet words after a cruel bout of insults about her father. The smell of smoke when her mother took her up on Syrax. The odd tasting fish Laenor cooked for her every nameday.

“Princess,” Aemond’s voice, as surprisingly gentle as it had been before, called out to her, “would you get the door?”

It was the first thing Aemond said on their walk.

She mindlessly pushed open the door of her chambers, not even realizing that they’d reached them. “You can right me here, Aemond.”

Aemond didn’t hear her, or perhaps he ignored her. He did not deposit her in the doorway as she asked; he crossed the room and set her gently back on the edge of her bed.

“Thank you,” she said, more out of habit than anything. She owed him her thanks to be sure, but her mind was too occupied with other things to mean it.

“Of course, Princess,” Aemond fingered the edge of the cloak still covering her. “I can leave this with you,” he offered, “but people will question why you have my cloak. It is your choice.”

Alarra released her death grip on the fabric, and Aemond didn’t tug it away until it seemed she had firm grip on the dress beneath.

Aemond stood to his full height and turned to leave. “I will leave you to your night. We will talk again when you are well.”

She watched his back retreat for only a few steps before she could resist no longer.

“Please Aemond,” Alarra whispered into the night air as if the silence were glass and her words a falling hammer that might break it were she not gentle enough.

Aemond paused at her door and turned back.

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to speak, to ask. It was too much to ask. She knew it was too much to ask, especially of him. “If you ever cared for me at all, as friend or family… do not tell anyone about tonight?”

His eye was not as intense as it stared at her now. It was softer, more discerning.

That, or more likely the distance buffered the spear of his gaze.

“You are owed justice, Princess.” Aemond replied as he stepped back from the door and let his hand fall from the handle.

Alarra had expected a simple yes or no, even if the yes was a lie. But then, she hadn’t expected him to find her in the garden. She hadn’t expected him to help her if he did. And she certainly hadn’t expected him to care if she received justice.

Aemond crossed the room in long strides and knelt down before her, resting a gentle, almost hesitant hand on the top of her exposed knee. “You are owed justice, and you shall have it.”

“But I…”

Aemond didn’t understand. And how could he. He was a man. He could fuck his way through half of Flea Bottom, and Viserys wouldn’t bat an eye. Aegon already had, and the greatest repercussions he’d faced had been the occasional cold shoulder for his lack of decorum. Aemond was a man, and unlike women, men could demand justice when they were wronged.

“If I say anything… the rumors… I’ll be ruined. He will say he ruined me, and no one will believe me, not over a man. The moment he opens his mouth, it will be my fault, and I will be ruined.” The tears in her were hardening into something more as her voice became more clipped, “No assurances from the Maester that I am untouched will be sufficient to quell the mongers. My first child will be a bastard no matter when he’s born or to whom, and no man will have me accompanied by such a stain.”

This, of all things, was what Alarra was complaining about, what she was forced to worry about. It made her sick. She felt the bile rising in her throat even now, and she tried to swallow it down.

This was not what she truly cared about. Alarra wanted nothing more than time to grieve herself, grieve her pain, grieve what had been done to her, but she could not have it. And not simply for Aemond’s presence.

It would have been the same if it were any other man who found her. It would have been the same if it were the queen or even her mother. And even if she hadn’t been found at all, it would have been the same tomorrow, or the next day, or whatever day that monster of a man finally came forward and opened his mouth about what he’d done to her.

She would be expected to be unshaken, unperturbed by any trauma. Her first and only concern would be expected to be her house, her reputation, and her family, not her own wellbeing.

The council, monsters that they were, may even demand she marry him, to be sure of the bloodlines.

The tears began to fall again, and she mourned not just what had been done to her and taken from her, not just her sense of safety and security, not just her sense of self, but also the mask she would have to wear come morning. She mourned because she knew it was her last chance to mourn. She mourned because she knew that even now she wasn’t supposed to mourn, for Aemond was watching.

“Leave that to me, Princess.” Aemond’s hand reached up, and a thumb gently brushed away her newest tears, “I swear to you, on my life and my dragon’s. No one will question your honor.”

Alarra scoffed. Such a fond notion. If it came from her brothers she might have thought them naive enough to think such a thing could be done. If it came from her brothers she might have thought them sweet enough to try. But this was Aemond, and he was not sweet. And he was certainly not so naive.

“You can’t promise that.” Alarra closed her eyes to avoid looking into his.

“I can. I have my ways, Princess. Do not concern yourself with such trifling things as other’s expectations of you now. I will see to those. You need only worry after how to feel yourself again.”

It was as though he’d read her mind and pulled out the exact thing she wished he'd say. If he were Jace, she would have leaned into his hand on her cheek and fallen asleep, not trusting that all would be well by morning but trusting at least that he would be by her side when it wasn’t.

But this was Aemond, and another tear slid down her cheek from behind her eyelids. She wasn’t sure if she could trust him, but by the gods did she want to.

“Alarra, tell me. Who did this to you? Name the man who forfeited his life tonight.”

For a moment, her breath caught in her throat before…

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“You violated guests' rights, broke into a lord’s bedchambers, dragged him out of bed, drew your blade on him, carved out his tongue, and left him to be found by the servants who heard his cries!”

For the first time in many, many years, Viserys Targaryen looked like a dragon.

It was enough to quell the room to a still silence. It was enough to make the young ones quake with something akin to fear.

The Targaryens and Velaryons, the family, were the only ones called into the throne room for this particular trial. It was not, as so many usually were, made known to the nobility or even the entirety of the Small Council. Even the Kingsguard, save Cole, had been asked to wait outside. The King had kept it quiet, assembled the necessary parties, and immediately begun questioning his second son the same morning the young knight had been found dismantled on the floor of his guest chambers in the Red Keep.

Aemond stood firm in front of his father’s rebuke. Arms tucked behind his back, feet shoulder width apart, he said, as though he were discussing the weather, “I also knocked out all his teeth.”

Aemond thought he might have heard Aegon snort.

“HE IS A TYRELL!” Viserys lurched to his feet, cutting his palm on the throne he moved so quickly. His finger stabbed at the man, leaning on Ser Criston for support, looking ever the pitiful victim. “A TYRELL! AND THE GUEST OF YOUR KING!”

The pain of the blades did not seem to register to Viserys, and even the usually attentive Alicent did not move to help her king as blood ran down the tip of Viserys’s finger.

On Aemond’s eye’s side of the hall, the Velaryons formed one strong line in his peripheral vision, ever the picture of courtly decorum even as Jacaerys and Lucerys no doubt wanted to jump with glee. They were all quelled to a state little more than statues by the severity of the moment.

Only Alarra stood out of line. Only Alarra was not frozen in stone. She stood behind her mother, peaking out at him between Rhaenyra and Daemon’s shoulders, watching him with a gaze that flashed between awe, pity, shame, and something akin to desperation.

Aemond looked away. He did not let his gaze linger long on her. Much as he wanted to dissect the moods haunting her every feature, he refused to draw the kind of attention to her that observing her would require.

“Not an important one. Second son of a third son,” Aemond shrugged nonchalantly. “I assure you House Tyrell will not be greatly aggrieved by his loss.”

Viserys’s frame shook as though it could not contain his rage within his body. “On what grounds, Aemond!”

Aemond stood firm. Truly, his father could yell all he liked. When he wanted to be, Aemond could be a terrifyingly patient man. His patience would far outlast his father’s anger. Not merely for the fact his father was too physically weak to maintain this rebuke for long.

“I apologize, my King,” Aemond endeavored at civility, “but the grounds are not mine to say.”

That seemed to take Viserys back. Something cold, dark, came into his tone. “You would dare refuse your King.”

“I do not refuse my King. I have freely admitted to what I have done.” Aemond answered with an equally deadly calm.

A pin could have been heard dropping on the stones as Viserys took a shaky step down from the throne. “The Tyrells will make you take oaths for this, and I will not refuse them. They will ask to send you to the Wall.”

Aemond swallowed down his pride, swallowed down the urge to rage that it was the Tyrell who should be sent to the Wall, swallowed down the urge to cut through his father’s presumptions about the night.

With a bitter taste in his mouth, Aemond bowed his head, “If my king commands.”

“Aemond,” His mother finally broke the silence of the rest of the room as she hissed at him, “Defend yourself.”

Aemond’s eyes stayed straight ahead, watching his father.

“You heard your mother! Explain yourself boy!” Viserys commanded. “You have dishonored this house; you will give your reasons for this!”

“My reasons are my own. If the Wall is the price of his tongue so be it. I will not-“

There was a commotion amongst the Velaryons as all eyes turned to see Alarra pushing past Rhaenyra and jerking out of the grip her good father tried to clasp her in.

“He was defending me, your Grace,” Alarra called even as she crossed the room. Daemon and Rhaenyra’s attempts to stop the girl halted as she loudly made her declaration.

Alarra dropped into a short curtsy next to Aemond before taking a similar stance to his beside him. Awaiting judgment.

Aemond clenched his jaw tightly. He thought he might’ve felt a tooth crack. He did not glare down at his niece, much as he wanted to, nor did he chase her back behind her parents, much as he wanted to.

Resisting the urge was not without complaint, and a huff slipped past his lips. The whole point of cutting out the man’s tongue had been so he could not speak of what he’d done to her. And now she loudly declared it in open court.

Was she trying to save him? Really, did she think Viserys would actually send him to the Wall? He would order it done then change his mind and settle for some brief exile or other. He would go to Essos, fight a war, become the next Daemon.

“You must forgive Aemond for any impertinence.”

Yes. She was trying to save him.

Alarra’s head was hung as she addressed her King. “It was merely for the sake of protecting me. Ser Wendell attacked me in the garden last night, your Grace. Aemond was my rescuer. That is how Ser Wendell came to lose his tongue. If the Tyrells demand an oath, let me give it in his stead. Aemond has acted with nothing but honor.”

There was a quiet after Alarra finished speaking. Somewhere outside, knights in armor were walking past the throne room.

The first sound to break the silence was a wordless, toneless groan.

Ser Criston had let go of Ser Wendell, and Wendell had swayed on the spot for a moment before Ser Criston had kicked the man to his knees.

“Attacked you!” Viserys stumbled back to sit in his throne, breathing heavily, seemingly exhausted as the anger within him at his own son quelled in the face of this new revelation. “In what way, dear girl, has this knight attacked you? Has he dishon-”

“No,” Aemond cut off the King before he could finish voicing the word. He had promised no one would question her on this. “I saw what was transpiring from the balcony. At first it seemed nothing more than a spat. When I realized he’d drawn a blade…” He was cut off by his sister’s loud gasp. “I came to her aid as quickly as I could. I am sorry to say I could not prevent all of what transpired, but I assure you my niece’s virtues remain entirely intact. I would swear to it. His honor was the only thing destroyed last night.”

Wendell, on his knees in front of Cole, made loud, wordless noises and gestured wildly in the direction of Aemond and Alarra.

Aemond sneered and rested his hand back on the hilt of his sword, the blade letting out a threatening ‘shink’ noise as he unsheathed the first inch. Wendell shrunk back, his arms freezing though his mouth still blubbered on. “You can still lose your hand, Ser Wendell.”

“Or your head.”

All blubbering ceased.

For all of his bluster and rage and shouting and for all the silence and fear it evoked, there was nothing Viserys could do to chill a room like those three words said by that voice.

“Why does he live?” Daemon continued. His voice was as cold as the Stranger’s embrace, and his eyes glaring across the hall at Ser Wendell just as steady.

The question was for Aemond, he knew, but Daemon made no move to address him directly.

“The coward fled even as I arrived. Alarra was quite merciful in her pleas that hunting him down to slaughter was not justice. So I quelled my anger with his tongue.”

“And his teeth,” Aegon muttered under his breath.

Aemond’s head jerked around, and he sneered at his brother. “His teeth were incidental. If he hadn’t so resisted losing his tongue, he’d still have them. They had to be gotten out of the way.”

Daemon paid no mind to the bickering between the brothers. He sauntered forth, like a lion stalking its prey.

“Alarra wished to have justice?”

Daemon stopped then, in front of Wendell, staring down at the man.

Aemond’s eyes flitted to the woman in question.

Alarra was watching Ser Wendell almost as intently as Daemon watched him. The way Aemond remembered she used to watch the bugs that frightened her as a child, like she had to know where he was at all times, like she had to keep him in her sights or he may sneak up on her some other way, even tongueless and on his knees with the man visibly pissing himself.

“Yes, she did.” Aemond answered for her.

“He has no tongue,” Daemon mused. His head tilted to one side, and from where he stood Aemond could see the tug at the corner of Daemon’s mouth. “I suppose the only fair trial he will have is by combat.” When he wanted, Daemon’s smile could truly be a thing of evil.

Alarra looked ready to be sick.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a chore to escape her rooms that night. Her mother had posted two guards to her door in an effort to make her feel more comfortable, but when the unfamiliar faces introduced themselves and took up their station it only made her feel more cut off, more alone. She felt suffocated by the presence of these strangers she did not know or trust blocking her primary exit from her room.

Climbing out the window had seemed the logical thing to do.

She could not sleep and had not eaten at dinner. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to do either, but she was sure she didn’t want to feel trapped.

Her feet took her around the back halls of the palace, wandering paths where no one would dare to look for her. It was around the fourth or fifth hall, in front of the room they had stopped for minutes on end, that she realized the path her feet had been carrying her along. She made no attempt to stop it. Or maybe she did and her feet didn’t listen.

The garden was beautiful, if a little more terrifying. The moonbeams that had always made the water in the pool seem to glint now only seemed to cast shadows under the hedges. The flowers which were so beautiful and richly hued at twilight had bigger thorns this week than last.

“I would have thought wandering the keep at night was not to your taste anymore. Least of all here, Princess.”

Alarra did not so much as jump when she heard the voice. If anything, her shoulders seemed to loosen their tension.

“I could not sleep. My feet brought me here, and I-I cannot say why I did not leave.” She answered the unasked question.

Aemond came to stand beside her against the bannister, putting his back to the garden and instead facing her. “We all fight our battles differently, I suppose.”

“I appear to be losing mine.”

Aemond chuckled humorlessly. “On the contrary Princess, I think you are the champion of House Targaryen.”

Alarra finally tore herself away from the spot on the grass she had been trying to burn with her eyes alone. “I feel like the Queen of Fools. I keep thinking of everything I should have done, ways I could have stopped him, things I wanted to say.”

Aemond paused for a long moment, quietly considering his response.

“Even if there are things you could have done, that does not make you the Queen of Fools… though I understand why you would think such a thing.” Aemond assented. His head turned so his eye could stare out at the sky, and Alarra watched his profile in detail. He cut a far less intimidating figure tonight than he usually did in the light of day. “I am the same with my duels with Ser Criston. I berate myself for weeks after each loss, picking them apart in my mind. I play each out a hundred different ways. It helps at first, helps me become a better fighter, better swordsmen. I study it until I know I will never make the same mistakes again. But eventually, I have to move on.”

Aemond turned his eye back to her. “For one simple reason, Princess. Those are all things I know to do differently now, but I did not know them then. One day, you will wake up and realize that the only thing you could have done that night, with what you knew then, is exactly what you did. Every idea you think of you can apply if the situation arises again, but you cannot expect yourself to have known those things before you knew them.”

Alarra pulled her eyes away forcefully and stared down at where it happened. He was right, in a way. She just wasn’t sure that made anything better.

“Do not trouble yourself with moving on now, Princess. The last fight isn’t over until I’ve stopped thinking about it, and I can’t win the next one until it is… but if it takes me weeks to move past something as petty as a lost duel, I wager you are allowed more than a night to move past this.”

“And how many nights can I go before I collapse during the day?” Alarra asked quietly. “This is the second night I have not slept, and my mother’s solution is to put my life in the hands of men I know no better than Wendell.”

That did seem to make Aemond pause. He always thought before he spoke, and the man thought hard now for what to say and how.

“I can-if it please you of course-think of one alternative.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“She will not harm you, Princess,” Aemond assured her.

Alarra stared up at the dragon looming over her. Her feet had frozen to the ground the moment she realized where Aemond was taking her, which given her distracted, absent state of mind had not been until they were standing on the beach with the dark, hulking mass of Vhagar casting shadows in the moonlight illuminating their skin.

She swallowed and shrunk back further into the meager protection of her cloak as Vhagar shifted and grumbled in her sleep. A puff of smoke floated away on her exhale.

“Princess,” Aemond stepped between her and Vhagar, his back to the creature. He caught her chin between his fingers and tilted her head so her gaze was forced to meet his eye. “Princess, do you trust me?”

“Trusting you is not the issue at the moment, Aemond.” Alarra mumbled.

“You’ve been around dragons many times.” Aemond said it as both a statement and a question.

Alarra nodded. “Yes of course, but never Vhagar.”

“She’s no different than any other dragon.” Aemond stipulated.

“Only that she’s thrice as large and thrice as deadly. She's so large Arrax could sleep in her jaw.” Her tone was more biting than she meant for it to be.

Alarra’s eyes wandered back over Aemond’s shoulder. She couldn’t help it. Not with her sleeping right there.

"I'd be a fool not to be warry, Aemond. We all would be. She's conquered kingdoms. She's killed dragons."

"None of yours."

"Well, I don't have one to kill."

Aemond rolled his good eye. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.” Alarra bit back immediately. It was an instinctual answer this time. An instinct that had formed over the course of only two days, but an instinct nonetheless. If she had been thinking clearly, Alarra would have lied and said no or at least pretended to consider her answer before she tacitly agreed to trust him. Yet with the figure silhouetting Aemond, it was impossible to take time to think and consider anything seriously.

Something softened, only slightly, in Aemond's expression as he heard her response. “Come.” She hadn’t realized till his hand dropped away that he had been cradling her chin the whole time, drawing her eyes back to his as it did. “I would never hurt you, and she does as I bid. If it helps, keep your eyes on me.”

Aemond took Alarra’s hand in his and turned. Staring at him did help. Alarra glared daggers into Aemond’s back as he pulled her along towards Vhagar. Though, t he daggers turned to spears as her peripheral saw the beast open its’ eyes.

“Do not look.” Alarra whispered to herself.

Aemond chuckled, shoulders shaking, and she realized she’d spoken the reassurance out loud.

“Easy to laugh with the most fearsome creature in all the world under your control.” Alarra snipped quietly at him.

Aemond squeezed Alarra’s hand in response, as he had so many times that night, so many times since he found her in the garden. “Tonight she is hardly mine.” Aemond stopped a mere arms length from the head of the dragon.

Vhagar had not moved but to open her eyes, and Alarra felt them watching her as she stared intensely at the space between Aemond’s shoulder blades. If she didn’t look, didn’t challenge the dragon, maybe she would make it out of this alive.

“Hello Vhagar,” Aemond’s free hand reached up and trailed over the scales on the underside of her snout, the only place he could truly reach.

Vhagar huffed in response and tilted her head ever so slightly towards Aemond’s palm. Alarra clutched his hand more tightly in response.

“Konīr iksos nykeā hāedar nyke jaelagon ao naejot rhaenagon.” There is someone I want you to meet. Aemond said the words to Vhagar gently, reverently, asking her permission as much as telling her.

“Oh Aemond,” Alarra tugged at the hand he was holding. “I can’t. I’m not-“

Aemond didn’t loose his grip. He clenched down and tugged Alarra out from behind him. He pulled her under his raised arm and tucked her into his side, never letting go of her hand on the other side of her body, instead choosing to wrap his arm around her. “Alarra,” by necessity given their difference in height, Aemond leaned down towards her ear, “I know. Trust me. I know.”

Of course he knew. Everyone knew. The Targaryen who couldn’t ride a dragon. The would-be queen who couldn’t claim a mount. The undeserving heir.

Alarra’s head dipped slightly away at the reminder.

Aemond lifted their entwined fingers and took a step behind Alarra. For a moment her heart leapt being alone in front of Vhagar, but Aemond quickly pressed himself into her back, shuffling her forward to reach the dragon. He placed Alarra’s palm on Vhagar’s snout where his had been moments before.

Vhagar huffed, and Alarra tried to retreat her hand, but Aemond held it still.

“Easy girl.” Alarra didn’t know whether he was talking to her or the dragon.

“Gīda, Vhagar. Gīda.” Aemond leaned over Alarra’s frame, pressing her even closer to the dragon, and laid his forehead to one of Vhagar's scales.

The dragon's chest rumbled and she nudged back against him. Alarra’s hand twitched in Aemond’s grip under the shifting scales, but she made no move to pull it away.

“Vhagar, bisa iksos Alarra.” Vhagar, this is Alarra . Aemond pulled his forehead back and began running his hands, the free one and the one trapping Alarra in its grip, over the beast.

With the sound of his voice telling her to calm, Vhagar’s gaze shifted to her rider with a wary eye, and being out from under the dragon's gaze took a great deal of the weight from Alarra’s chest.

“R-Rytsas.” Alarra hesitantly addressed the dragon.

Aemond smiled appreciatively down at Alarra and let go of her hand. She kept it there on Vhagar’s snout though she stopped her stroking.

Alarra stayed frozen where Aemond left her waiting instruction on how to proceed while the dragonrider stepped out from behind her. Aemond stood under the edge of Vhagar's snout and held his arms out in what would have been a hug if the dragon were smaller.

Aemond's tone was soft as he spoke to his dragon. “īlon jāhor sagon ēdrure kesīr rūsīr ao.”

Alarra’s head whipped around and her hand fell in shock.

We will be staying with you tonight.

Aemond paid no mind to Alarra’s shock. addressing only his dragon. “ Ziry iksos aōha āeksio sir. Mīsagon zȳhon rȳ ry. ”

Treat her as your master as well. Protect her at all cost.

There was a pause of several moments before Vhagar’s gargantuan tail lifted from the sand and smacked back down. Whatever passed between Aemond and the dragon, he seemed to understand this as acceptance. “Thank you Vhagar.”

Aemond scooped up Alarra’s fallen hand and tugged her down Vhagar’s length away from her snout and towards her belly. “This should do for now,” Aemond said over his shoulder. “Sand is not as soft as a bed, but it is a far cry better than wandering the keep all night.”

Aemond let go of her and dropped down on the beach, looking up expectantly at Alarra.

Alarra remained standing above the prince staring down at him in stunned silence.

Aemond watched her shock for a long moment before he said. “You've said yourself Vhagar is the most fearsome creature in the world, Alarra. Yes?”

Alarra nodded numbly.

“Well?” Aemond gestured around them. Vhagar’s tail had flopped in a ring closer to her head, leaving the pair of them in a nearly perfectly closed loop encircled by the most powerful creature in existence. “I assure you anyone that makes it past Vhagar won’t make it past me.”

Alarra wasn’t bothered by that notion. No, she was fairly certain this was precisely what Daemon and his loyal guards frequently joked about as ‘overkill’ when discussing old battles. She didn’t feel safe in her room, and instead of suggesting she get to know her guards or offering her Criston for the night Aemond had taken her here, to a veritable fortress of his own making, safer than anything Maegor had ever built.

No, it wasn’t the threats outside of the circle that gave her pause. It was those within, or rather the lack thereof.

“Aemond…” Alarra remained on her feet even as he offered her a hand down into the sand. “Aemond…”

Aemond raised an eyebrow. “If it is being alone with me that causes hesitation, I can return for you before morning. Vhagar will keep you-”

“ Āeksio?” Master?

Something washed over Aemond then, trading the pause from Alarra to him.

Alarra spoke quietly, as though she was afraid someone would overhear what Aemond had just done. “Ao gīmigon skoros bona udir means. Ao daor gūrogon bona arlī.” You know what that word means. You know you cannot take it back.

Aemond’s brow furrowed. He seemed to think for a moment before deciding to respond, in equally flawless Valyrian. “Nyke jāhor daor jaelagon naejot.” I will not wish to.

Alarra, still as stunned as ever, took the hand he offered her then and followed him to the sands.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond x reader #aemond x original female character #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x original female character #aemond targaryen x female reader

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galactic-magick · 2 months ago

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For You: AU!Claggor x Reader

Summary: In the alternate timeline, Powder encourages you to admit your feelings for Claggor.

Words: 800+

Author's Notes: Adult alternate timeline Claggor is fine af so I wrote this short oneshot. Also I just needed to write something more lighthearted and cute after writing that devastating Viktor fic earlier. Enjoy <3

“I don’t get why you can’t just tell him,” Powder huffs, shuffling through her drawers for a particular brush. She glides on eyeshadow in your favorite colors, endlessly teasing you while she works, “It’s obvious he’s liked you since we were kids.”

“Oh, like finally admitting your feelings to Ekko was so easy,” you roll your eyes, causing her to scold you for opening them. “Besides, that’s not even true. He probably just sees me like a sister.”

“Look,” Powder tilts your chin up as she applies blush to your cheeks. “As someone who was actually raised as his sister, I can promise you he treats you differently. I catch him staring at you all the time, and he goes out of his way to be nice to you. Like, he literally made a new hybrid flower for you for your last birthday. What is it you’re not getting?”

“He gives plants to everyone, I don’t think I was special,” you shrug, pressing out your lips so Powder can swipe on some gloss.

“You’re a lost cause sometimes,” she sighs with a laugh. “Come on, it’s time to make our entrance.”

The Innovator’s Competition is crowded as usual, with loud music and ambient lights showering the entries and guests. Powder meets up with Ekko while you go to grab a drink and browse the inventions.

People start dancing, and you sway back and forth a bit to the beat. You don’t particularly want to third wheel right now, so you make do on the sidelines. You’re closer to the snacks here, anyway.

“Wow, Y/N. You look beautiful.”

You whip your head towards the voice, your mouth stuffed with one of Jericho’s famous, sloppy appetizers.

“Oh! Hi, Claggor!” You swallow as quickly as you can and wipe your face with your sleeve. “Sorry, um, thank you.”

“Anytime,” he chuckles. “How come you’re not out there dancing?”

“I...I just don’t like dancing alone,” you say, your eyes darting back to Powder and the other couples and friend groups on the dance floor.

“Well let’s go then,” he extends his hand to you.

You smile and take it, weaving through the crowd as he pulls you towards the middle. You see Powder give you a thumbs up before your attention is back on Claggor, and suddenly the crowded room feels less overwhelming.

You let lose, showing off your most ridiculous dance moves without a worry in the world. That was the thing about Claggor, he always made you feel safe, like you could be yourself whenever he was around. There is never a glimmer of judgment in his eyes, never an inkling of unkindness. He’s been your most stable and trusted friend for years—he played with you, explored the city with you, mourned with you, rejoiced with you. He’s just that kind of guy, with a heart of gold that never wavers.

But if you told him how you really feel—how you’ve felt since you were young—things might not be the same.

After the competition, Claggor takes the scenic route while walking you home, showing you a couple new gardens he’s been working on around the city. He hopes that one day plant life can be the key to the pollution problem in the underground, a dream that isn’t too far off with the latest hybrids and prototypes he’s made. It’s fascinating, and you’ve always admired his natural talent with nature.

He picks you a flower from one of the gardens, the kind he knows are your favorite.

“For you,” he says, slithering the stem into your hair. His hands, his face—it’s all so dangerously close now. You can feel his warmth, feel his gentle gaze.

Maybe Powder’s right, no man who saw you as just a friend would look at you like this.

You take the chance and close the space between you, kissing him quickly before stepping back to gauge his reaction.

He immediately pulls you back in, grabbing you by the waist and kissing you harder. You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers twiddling with his soft wavy hair.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he says, your lips barely moving apart.

“I think I have some idea,” you giggle.

“Would you look at that, what did I tell ya?” You see Powder and Ekko coming around the corner, clearly ecstatic about this new opportunity to tease you. “Finally.”

Claggor keeps holding you close as you fire back, “Did you follow us just to say ‘I told you so’?”

“Nah, I didn’t even know you left the party yet,” Powder laughs. “But boy am I glad I saw this!”

She keeps walking with Ekko, whispering and chuckling as they go. You and Claggor can’t help but burst into your own fit of laughter as well, basking in the hilarity of the whole situation.

“We’ll never live this down, will we?” Claggor smirks.

“Absolutely not.”

#arcane x reader #claggor x reader #arcane #claggor #arcane spoilers #fem reader

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rafedarling · 4 months ago

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𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰

pairing: drew starkey x reader

based on this request: Drew and reader! After watching Outer Banks season 1, out of curiosty because the reader finds him attractive, she goes on his instagram but accidently presses ''Follow'' but panics and unfollows. She wants to play it cool you know, and not be that ''fangirl'' incase she ever bumped into him. Not that she thinks she would ever have a chance, but you know? She is surprised when he follows her a few hours later since she is just a 'normal person' and not a celebrity or influencer. He sends her a message and kind of jokingly being like ''Was I that boring to follow'' or something and a conversation just takes off | word count: 1,2k

warning: english is not my native language.

au: like, reblog, comment & feedback are much appreciated 🥹 | taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @mileyraes @akobx @noobmazter69 @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @littlelamy @enjoymyloves @stuffyownswrld

You had just finished watching the first season of Outer Banks, and to say you were hooked would be an understatement. The show had everything—drama, adventure, and a cast that was undeniably attractive. But there was one character who had particularly caught your eye: Rafe Cameron, played by the actor Drew Starkey. You weren’t sure if it was the intensity he brought to the character or just his piercing blue eyes, but either way, you found yourself thinking about him long after the credits rolled.

Out of curiosity, and maybe a little bit of a crush, you decided to check out his Instagram. You were sure it was just harmless fun, a way to see what the actor was like off-screen. After all, it wasn’t like you were ever going to meet him in real life. You were just a normal person, living a normal life, far removed from the glitz and glamour of Hollywood.

You typed his name into the search bar and quickly found his profile. As you scrolled through his photos, you couldn’t help but notice how different he seemed from his character. He had a warm, genuine smile in most of his pictures, and the captions were often humorous or thoughtful. It was refreshing, and it only made you like him more.

Without really thinking, your thumb hovered over the “Follow” button. Before you could second-guess yourself, you pressed it—almost instinctively. But as soon as you did, panic set in. Oh no, what did I just do? Your mind raced. I wasn’t supposed to actually follow him!

In a frenzy, you quickly unfollowed him, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you couldn’t believe you had been so careless. What if he saw? you thought, mortified. You weren’t trying to be that person—just another fangirl who accidentally reveals her crush on a celebrity.

You put your phone down, trying to distract yourself with something else, but your mind kept drifting back to that split-second decision. He has millions of followers, you reassured yourself. There’s no way he would notice one random person following and unfollowing him.

Hours passed, and you had almost managed to forget the whole thing when your phone buzzed with a notification. You glanced at the screen and froze. It was a notification from Instagram: @drewstarkey followed you back.

Your heart skipped a beat. Wait, what? You stared at the screen, blinking in disbelief. Drew Starkey, the Drew Starkey, had followed you? But why? You were just an ordinary person, not a celebrity or influencer. The thought that he might have actually noticed you made your stomach do a little flip.

Before you could fully process what was happening, another notification appeared—a message from him. With shaky fingers, you tapped on it, your heart racing.

Drew Starkey:

Was I that boring to follow? 😅

You stared at the message, completely floored. He noticed. He actually noticed. And not only that, he had messaged you, joking about it. You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry, but one thing was certain: you needed to reply.

Taking a deep breath, you started typing.

You:

Oh my gosh, no! It was totally an accident. I swear I’m not a weirdo or anything…

You paused, rereading the message. Great, now I sound like a weirdo, you thought, rolling your eyes at yourself. You quickly added:

You:

I was just checking out your profile after watching Outer Banks. But then I got nervous and unfollowed because I didn’t want to seem like a fangirl.

There was a brief moment of silence as you watched the three little dots indicating he was typing. Your heart was in your throat, and you couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

Drew Starkey:

No need to be nervous. I’m just a regular guy who happens to play a crazy one on TV. 😄

You felt your nerves ease a little at his response. He seemed so down-to-earth and genuine, which only made you like him more.

You:

Well, you’re really good at playing the crazy guy. I didn’t think I’d ever root for Rafe, but you made him so compelling!

Drew Starkey:

Thanks! That means a lot. It’s always fun to play characters that are so different from who I am in real life.

You:

I can imagine. It must be challenging, though.

Drew Starkey:

Definitely. But it’s also rewarding when people like you notice the work that goes into it. By the way, what did you think of the show?

The conversation was flowing so naturally, it was almost surreal. Here you were, chatting with Drew Starkey like you were old friends, and he was genuinely interested in what you had to say.

You:

I loved it! It was such a wild ride from start to finish. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time. And the cast is amazing—I can tell you all have great chemistry.

Drew Starkey:

We really do. It’s like a little family on set. I’m glad that comes across on screen.

There was a brief pause, and then another message came through.

Drew Starkey:

So, since we’re already chatting, mind if I keep following you? 😉

You couldn’t help but smile at the cheeky tone of his message. He was clearly teasing you, but there was something sweet about it, too.

You:

Well, I guess I can allow that. 😏

Drew Starkey:

Good to know I’m not banned from your profile. 😄

You:

Not at all. But now I feel like I have to step up my Instagram game. 😂

Drew Starkey:

No pressure! I’m just here for the good vibes and dog pics, if you have any.

You laughed, feeling completely at ease now. This whole situation had gone from panic-inducing to utterly charming in a matter of minutes.

You:

Well, you’re in luck. I do have a dog, and she’s very photogenic.

Drew Starkey:

Now I’m really glad I followed you. 🐶

The two of you continued chatting for a while, sharing stories about your pets, favorite shows, and the little things in life that made you happy. It was easy, comfortable, and fun—like catching up with a friend you hadn’t seen in a while.

Eventually, you noticed the time and realized how late it had gotten.

You:

I should probably let you go. I didn’t mean to keep you up all night!

Drew Starkey:

No worries, this was fun. I’m glad you accidentally followed me. 😁

You:

Me too. Thanks for being so cool about it.

Drew Starkey:

Anytime. And hey, don’t be a stranger. Feel free to message me anytime.

You:

I will. Goodnight, Drew.

Drew Starkey:

Goodnight, Y/n.

You set your phone down with a huge smile on your face, your heart still fluttering from the unexpected turn of events. What had started as a simple curiosity had led to something much more—an actual conversation with Drew Starkey. And the best part? He’d followed you first.

#drew starkey #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x oc #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron x y/n

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siren-141 · 1 month ago

Text

unholy

summary: you get picked up by a mechanic shop owner after your car breaks down. the night turns into something that you both needed. pairing: mechanic shop owner Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader warnings: car sex, age gap (reader is at least mid-20s, simon is about 40 in this one), slight size kink if you squint, semi-public sex but not really (in reader's driveway but nobody's around), fingering, oral (m rec), justified cheating (not against reader; simon's married but his wife fucking sucks and is cheating on him already) word count: 2.8k a/n: so this actually took me two months to write lol but enjoy :)))

COD masterlist ☾ main masterlist

18+ only, minors DNI

This was honestly the last thing you needed.

Standing on the side of the road, you looked at your pathetic car, tire barely hanging onto the wheel after it was blown out. You hadn’t even realized that you were speeding down the old road, let alone that you were flying over a fairly deep pothole. You realized it though when you had to hit the brakes and saw the smoke from your front passenger side rising up.

It was just around midnight, and you had just left the bar where a local band had been playing. You needed a pick-me-up after the week you’d have – hell, after the month you’d had. Busy in school, assignments coming at you non-stop, dealing with being newly single and frustrated. Why did guys have to suck so much? Whatever – no time to think about that now.

Calling a few tow truck services, there was no luck. Either you were too far out or too expensive, taking advantage of the female voice they were talking to to jack up their prices. Family over an hour away and friends that were close enough to come get you, but you couldn’t leave your car here on the side of the road, who knew if it would still be there in the morning? All you could do was thank the gods that you had taken the back roads home, choosing the scenic route so you could blast your music and take your time getting home, instead of going on the interstate and having a blowout.

While you were tapping away at your phone trying to think of different options, you could see headlights in the distance. Squinting, you couldn’t decide if you wanted the person to stop or if you’d rather take your chances being out at night alone. Watching as they got closer, you breathed a sigh of relief as you watched the truck pull off to the side of the road just up ahead.

The door opened, and out came this hulking of a man. Easily 6’4”, shoulders broad as ever, sauntering over to you in a scuffed up pair of work pants, a white shirt that wasn’t so white with all the oil stains on it, and an unzipped black jacket. You couldn’t really see his face, a plain black mask covering from his nose down. From his look alone, you didn’t know if you should be turned on or afraid for your life – somehow, you chose the first.

“You okay?” he called out, voice deep and gruff.

“Yeah, I just-” you sighed, cutting yourself off. “Left the bar earlier. Tire blew out, I hit that pothole back there. Towing companies are either too far out or charging too much.”

He nodded his head, walking around to inspect your wheel. He squatted down and even as close to the ground as he was, he still came up to your stomach. Fuck, this guy was big.

“I can get a ride home but I don’t want to leave my car out overnight, probably wouldn’t be here by the time I came to get it tomorrow,” you explained, fidgeting with your phone. You could see the man’s shoulders and back move, almost like he had scoffed at your suggestion.

“Nonsense,” he stood back up, walking closer to you – taking in how you looked. Black lacy top with dramatic bell sleeves on it, a flowy black miniskirt. Platform boots that made you a few inches taller, but still much smaller than him. There was no way on earth that he’d have seen you and not pulled over to help. “I can call one of my guys to come pick up your car and bring it to my shop to stay overnight. I can bring you home if you wouldn’t mind, your friends wouldn’t have to wake up and drive out here.”

You weighed your options and somehow, that was the best one you had. “Okay, yeah. Thank you.”

About 10 minutes later, a man pulled up in a tow truck, having the man move his truck from in front of you so he could back the tow truck up to the front of your car. As the man got out of the car, you saw that he was attractive too – dark brown skin that looked as smooth as ever, sparkling eyes that smiled kindly at you even though it was half past midnight. Grey sweats and a black hoodie with a mechanic shop logo on the front – you guessed that they worked together. You stood back as you watched the two men hook up your car and load it up.

“Thanks Gaz, owe you one.”

“‘s no problem, Simon,” Gaz clapped him on the shoulder, giving you a quaint smile and wave before getting into the tow truck and hauling your car back the way he had just come from.

–

“So,” you said as you got into the truck with your savior for the night. “You just know a 24/7 road service guy, huh?”

“Mhm,” he said, driving down the road. “I own that mechanic shop a couple miles back that way. Opened it up whenever I retired. He works with me.”

You nodded your head, keeping the conversation light. You figured he wasn’t one for nonsensical small talk, considering he had been quiet so far, only really saying what was needed. You could appreciate that.

“So where’d you retire from?” You asked him, looking out the side window at the trees starting to disappear the more you got into town.

“Military,” was all he said, still keeping it short and light. You hummed, figuring he’d talk more about it if he wanted to.

“What do you do?”

Your eyes unfocused from the trees, and you shifted in your seat. “I’m in school, grad school. Work in one of the offices on campus during the week. Gets boring but it pays for my schooling, and I enjoy being there, so that’s what counts I guess.”

It was silent for a minute.

“Got out of the military couple of years back, whole squad actually retired together. Came back, married a nice girl. Two step-kids – teeangers, really. Boy and a girl.”

You almost deflated in your seat. Of course, you shouldn’t have expected much – your love life was filled with disappointments littered throughout. Maybe his friend Gaz was single. But this was still a kind stranger that thankfully was not a serial killer, and you were still grateful for all of his help tonight.

“Oh, that’s nice.” He grunted, rolling his eyes at the statement. Whoops.

“She’s busy at her office. Works at one of the law firm buildings downtown. Got her sister watching the kids at her house.”

“Thought they closed at 5..?” you asked, eyebrows creased in confusion.

“They do. The CEO stays late sometimes though. Think she just wanted an upgrade from a shop owner.”

Oh.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, focusing your attention back on the buildings going past you.

“So you went to the bar by yourself?” he asked, cutting the silence once again. You confirmed for him, telling him your friends either had work that night or just couldn’t make it for some other reason.

“Mm. Boyfriend didn’t come out with you then?” Now you snorted, rolling your eyes.

“No such thing. Actually just left him about a week ago. Too immature,” you started. “He could never keep up with anything…no job, no hobbies. Never any time for me either way.”

“Hm. Sounds like you need a real man in your life then, yeah?”

You could feel your face heat up. Shifting in your seat to press your thighs together without him noticing, you tried to keep your cool. You weren’t dumb – you could see that Simon was older than you at least by 15 years. Not only did he have a job, but he owned the damn place. Established. Smart. Married. But, married to a cheating wife in a loveless marriage. And here you were: had a job, in school. Established for your age. Frustrated. Sexually frustrated.

“Guess so,” you looked over at him, meeting his eyes briefly until you had to look away, face heating up. He focused back on the road.

It was silent after that. The radio played classic rock on its station, and you found yourself deep in thought about everything going on – about the man giving you a ride home. Your leg bounced up and down nervously, and didn’t stop when he pulled into the driveway of your apartment. Biting at the inside of your lip, you didn’t even realize that you had made it yet.

You could hear him sigh, and it snapped you out of your thoughts. Before you could even think about thanking him and going inside, he reached over and grabbed your thigh. “Stop the bouncing, love.”

Your lips parted, not expecting his actions. Your leg stopped bouncing, your heart taking its place, hammering in your chest. You watched his thumb run across your skin before you looked over at him, honey eyes meeting yours.

His hand crept up your thigh, squeezing at the plushness of it before continuing upwards. He gently nudged at your other leg, and you caught the hint, slightly spreading them – just enough room for his hand to fit in the middle. His finger lightly rubbed over your clothed clit, feeling the lace of your panties under the rough pad of his fingertip.

He looked down, taking off his mask and carefully putting it on his gear shift. When he looked up at you again, you scanned his face. He was easily one of the most attractive men you had seen – amber-colored eyes looking right back at you, a scar running through his eyebrow and one cutting into his top lip.

He pressed a little harder against your clit, a shiver going down your spine and a small gasp coming from you. You were sure that if you looked in a mirror, your pupils would have been completely dilated at that point.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, leaning in closer but continuing his movements. You could see his hardened cock straining against his pants.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathed against him, his lips just inches from yours.

“I know,” his fingers slipped past the lace and began to rub directly onto your clit, dipping down to bring your slick up for more lube. You held back a whimper at the feeling of his finger rubbing circles into your nub, legs opening wider. “So tell me to stop.”

His fingers pushed into you, going slow to let you adjust to the new feeling. You can’t remember the last time anything other than your toys or your own fingers was down there. Two fingers slid in and out of you, and you could hear the sound of your slick, very audible in the small cab of his truck. Crooking his fingers, he pressed against your sweet spot, and you couldn’t hold back the whine that came from your lips. “Answer.”

“I can’t,” his lips crashed against yours, your hand coming up to the back of his neck to pull him closer. His tongue slipped into your mouth, taking control – you let him. There was nothing more that you wanted in this moment than for him to take control. His lips fit perfectly against yours, slotted as you kissed for what seemed like forever before he pulled away.

“Take these off,” he snapped the waistband of your panties and you rushed to slide them off, leaving your skirt on. Your hands shook with anticipation as you kicked the fabric off from around your boots, leaving it on the floor of his truck. His large hand cupped the side of your face, leading you right back to him to kiss you again. You reached over to grab at his bulge, and he lifted his hips up just enough to slide his pants and briefs down to his thighs and free his hard cock. Wrapping your hand around it, he groaned and you broke the kiss to get a good look at him.

Eyes going wide, he was huge. You could have assumed, given the size of his body, but fuck. Your fingers could barely touch when wrapped around his cock, vein running on the underside of it, his tip growing red and leaking. “Shit,” you whispered, eyes fixated on him. You gave him a couple of strokes, thumb pressing on top of his tip, and his head tilted back until it hit the headrest of the seat, eyes closed. You couldn’t hold yourself back anymore, feeling like you were going to go into a frenzy.

Leaning down, you took him into your mouth slowly, moaning around him from the taste. “Up,” he said, tapping your back, and you popped off of him, repositioning yourself to kneel sideways in the passenger seat. Going back to your previous actions, you bent down and took him into your mouth again, lapping at his head while you stroked the rest of him with your hand. You could feel him shift, and then felt his hand gripping at your ass.

Even though you couldn’t see it, you could feel that his entire hand covered most of your ass, and you could only imagine what it looked like. His fingers ran through your cunt, feeling the slick that had gathered there and smeared on your thighs. He toyed at your clit before pushing two of his fingers back in, making you moan around his cock. The feeling of being filled pushed you, bobbing your head down further down his cock.

“Fuck, you feel so good, love,” he breathed out, squeezing his eyes shut before opening them again, taking in the sight in front of him. Pretty girl sucking his cock, hair pulled back out of your face with his large hand, back arched in the seat next to him as he fingered your tight hole.

You raised your head up, letting spit pool in your mouth before letting it drop onto his cock, adding more lubricant to suck him off easier. As you went back down, he picked up his pace. You arched your back even more, pushing back against his hand for more, and he pulled your hair a little tighter in his hand.

He could tell you were about to cum – you didn’t even have to say it. He could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, could see how you’d deepen the arch every time he hit that magic spot in you. He could feel you unintentionally slowing down.

Crooking his fingers just right, he pushed deeper into you and that was your undoing. Your voice was partially muffled as you came, moaning and whimpering around his cock as much as you could, stopping all movement with your tongue but unintentionally sinking down further on him as your whole body tightened from your orgasm washing over you. Goosebumps rose on your skin as you preened at the euphoric feeling running through your veins, head a little dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the blood pumping hard through you.

Seeing you come undone and your brain essentially melt from the orgasm was the last straw for Simon. Pressing his head back into the truck’s headrest, he groaned as he spilled down your throat, large hand squeezing at your ass enough to leave reddened skin behind. His hips pushed up just the tiniest bit each time more cum would spurt out, and you gladly swallowed it all.

Your mind was a haze as you pulled off of him, weakly sitting up and the both of you fixing your clothing. You adjusted back to normal in your seat, reaching down to grab your panties that had been tossed on the floor, and before you could even think of putting them back on or at the very least walking inside with them, the man beside you took them out of your hand. You watched as he pocketed them.

“Just something to remember you by, hm?” You looked down, hands fidgeting as a small smile crept on your face.

“Well…thanks for the ride,” you said awkwardly, avoiding eye contact as if your jaw wasn’t starting to ache from being stuffed full just minutes ago. Before you could grab for the door handle, Simon had cupped the back of your neck and kissed you again, this time gentler.

“Remember your car tomorrow,” he said, almost a whisper. From the look in his eyes, you knew that this was far from the last time you’d be meeting him under these circumstances. From the look in your eyes, he knew that you needed this just as much as he did.

Nodding your head, you gave him a small smile and left the truck, walking inside your apartment and shutting the door behind you. You listened to him drive off after he saw that you had made it in safely, and your head just spun. You don’t know what the hell just happened, but you’re glad it did.

#simon riley #simon “ghost” riley #simon riley smut #cod #call of duty #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #call of duty smut #cod smut #cod x reader #mechanic simon riley #this took me way too FUCKING long to write #this is what I mean when I say I'm a low-energy writer

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