#and built the entire world around trying to make it make sense

[kisskissgotohell]

it might need a reread once the full official tl comes out but i gotta say. based on one read, guardian (novel-only) did not feel like it actually went anywhere. it's like the novel equivalent of those posts where you learn something and the next reblog immediately refutes it. neutral experience.

[sunderwight]

thinking more about a scenario where Bingge's world is just, fundamentally unstable.

because the System mostly created him for the punishment protocol. before that he actually only did exist as a book character, and the "real" PIDW world was the SVSSS world. but then after manifesting Bingge the System created a reality where he did exist, except it doesn't have the same degree of substance or cohesiveness as the SV world. plus, it has all the narrative asspulls Airplane was increasingly worse about as his writing devolved, and all of the contrivances and plotholes that never made it into the SV world and subsequently never threw anything out of alignment either. the SV world was built from Airplane's most stable creative phase, and went on and diverged from there. but Bingge's world was created from the final PIDW canon, which is a mess.

so it's just like... not at all stable. it's not just that Bingge himself is also a wildly unstable guy, his entire world reflects this in that it is a mess of interwoven contradictions that is constantly folding in on itself and collapsing in places. stuff like, in some chapters Airplane messed up and got certain wives confused, but he confused them consistently for big portions of the story. thereby completely muddying the waters of which wife actually had which backstory or personality. so there's this segment of Bingge's harem comprised of these eldritch abomination interchangeable women-shaped entities that have no true sense of individual self, instead constantly melting and merging into one another.

combining the realms would be the watsonian explanation for why Bingge's dimension is so fucked up, of course. but even if that hadn't been part of PIDW canon it would still be an intensely weird situation.

Bingmei lying awake at night, deeply disquieted because all he told his husband about his trip to the other world was that he woke up in a strange place with a lot of women, and unless he's got a good reason that's what he's gonna leave it at because that place was freakier than the Abyss and Shizun already gets upset just contemplating Binghe trapped there. also he isn't sure how to explain the concept of six overlapping skies and the labyrinthine palace that was many places in one and the spots where it seemed like reality just ended and opened in a great, yawning void that none of the other people around him even seemed to notice.

his very own cosmic horror misadventure that he's pretty sure is what would have become of the world if he hadn't met his husband. lol. he's just like, sure on an emotional level it would make sense that reality would lose all cohesion in that case, but he's also pretty sure it's not literally supposed to do that?

Bingmei trying really hard to figure out the potential impact of comphet on physics.

[andersonfilms]

≛ LONELY IS THE MUSE!

❝ ABBY!CENTRIC ONE SHOT ❞

feat. bodyguard!abby x famous actor!reader

warnings. eighteen+, suggestive nsfw content: reader fell first nd and abby fell harder, some angst, fluff, slightly coded fem reader, personal trainer!abby, just two idiots pining. i saw the discourse for some romance and i wanted to do my part. enjoy friends.

LONELY IS THE MUSE, entangled in an endless web of a high profile life, everyone waiting on you hand and foot, hollywood’s star in their prime — everyone needing a piece for themselves. yet the mysterious blonde who has not a clue to who you are catches the eye of the lonely muse.

wc. 8k

“You know you don’t have to stand this close to me.” Abby counters, but her words didn’t make you move an inch. Not that she really thought they would. Secretly, she enjoys your gentle touch. She likes how comfortable you feel around her. The downpour in New York has your arm entangled with her own, your hand gripping her bicep as she holds the umbrella.

“Maybe, but I don’t want to ruin my hair.” You replied gently, as you rested your head against her relaxed bicep.

“God, forbid your hair be in ruin, sweet girl.” Abby’s wet lips look inviting, especially when she’s smirking at you. Delectable, enticing, desired seeping underneath your soul as you try your best to keep them at bay. 

“Now that would be positively tragic, wouldn’t it? Just a paparazzi’s wet dream. Need my hair in ruins for them to get a handsome payday.” Abby shakes her head, the budding smile threatening to reveal itself. You can see how it grows, despite the effort she makes to disguise it. 

“I think you do enjoy my company. Paid or not, I bring some light into your life.” You play with the ends of her hair. The blonde feels a tingle pricking at her skin. She ignores it. 

“I can see that smile.” 

Better than anyone, Abby knows the gleam in your eyes is too dangerous to entertain, so she looks forward. It’s what she's paid to do, to keep you safe. Not to entertain some weird crush that will soon pass when you move on to the next actress, artist, or producer. She doesn’t need a reminder of how different your world is, she’s already abundantly clear on where the both of you stand. Worlds apart from each other, even if you’re leaning against her, the greedy hands of the public grab onto you first, mercilessly sucking the life out of anyone who enters your life. 

All it does is isolate you, making your life incredibly lonely. Trapped on the throne you built with your raw talent, but the industry is a double edged sword, as much as it appears to lift you up, it impales any sense of normalcy at a private, peaceful life. You take pride in these little moments you have with her. It’s the only time you get to have a taste of normalcy, even if you did have a bodyguard, which wasn’t entirely normal. Yet, Abby is a gentle reminder of a life she wishes to have. Someone who is kind, and loving; a soul that exists for no selfish gain, greed, or selfishness. 

Sometimes, you take advantage of it. 

Abby knows you crave physical affection. Ever since your messy break up, you’ve been finding any little excuse to justify it. Abby didn’t really mind at all. Even if she tried to deny it in her head, she’d miss it if you stopped. The incessant need you have to be close to her at all times, your essence bleeding on to her, suffocating her with everything she wants, but knows she can’t ever let herself dip into the deepest edges of you. 

Especially, not when you are still attempting to decode the wreckage of your last relationship. 

Abby hates seeing you like this, but she knew there was little she could do to help. All she could do is let you ride the wave of heartbreak, take in the silent tears hitting full cheeks, and hope it would all end soon for you. For now, she would allow immediate proximity.

You’re hurting. You need it.  

The first few weeks, even a couple months after, she expects it. Now it’s month four, and you were still touching her all the time. Lame excuses falling from your lips daily and Abby was sure you didn’t even believe them. She thought about bringing it up to you, establishing healthy boundaries before she crosses a line.

Yet, it feels…nice.

It felt good to be needed. The reason she had taken this job in the first place. It wasn’t what she had imagined for herself – a bodyguard of a famous musician. She jokes about it now, but it's a twisted fate for the two of you. Your eyes shine bright whenever someone asks, and you always take the lead.

Abby has always been more reserved, and your personality is as bright as the sun. She liked Abby the second she laid eyes on her. Not because she was beautiful or the most gorgeous human she’d ever seen.

Which she is.

No.

Her stupid pounding heart, the one she felt beating violently out of her chest, loves you, has no idea who she is.  She had thought possibly the blonde stranger was putting on a front, some did. They liked to conceal their intentions behind greedy eyes and malicious intent.

But Abby turned out to be different.

When a blossoming friendship turned into a job opportunity, it took Abby through a loop. It was the very last thing she was expecting from you. You’d kept her in the dark and when you announced exactly who you were, Abby really didn’t know. Never was she really a fan of social media, didn’t really partake in it unless someone was showing her the latest trend going around. She’s a little old fashioned but she likes it. It worked in her favor when it came to you. Unknowingly, for the first time since your fame struck as quick as lightning, you had the pleasure to befriend someone who had no idea who you were. 

As fresh as breathing your first breath of air, you took pride in the circumstance. Someone enjoying your company for who they are and not just for your social standing, fame, or most importantly the money. Before either of you could really even fully come to it, Abby has become such an influential person in your life, and then you were attempting to entice her with a job opportunity, and she accepted. 

You thought it would take longer and knew from the moment you had asked. But her life was uprooted by you, and she felt guilty about how much it fills her up with glee. 

In the last year, Abby became the only person worthy of your trust, the only one who would keep your confessions confined, not letting the secrets drip like cheap wine down the drain. Rather more as if she was out in the vineyard, carefully hand picking the grapes for the wine as she crafts it herself. Giving it the love, care, and attention it needs to flourish into fine beverage. From one sip alone, knowing she would crave for the taste. 

Getting to know you in ways some would dream of. Often, the mass of the public did, but you’re more selective who you let in your life now. Swiftly, you noticed how easily Abby listened. 

Listening and seeing you for who you are, not some strewed version the media made you out to be.  

She understood why you felt the need to and maybe why you felt comfortable with her. You spent time with her more than anyone. After two years together, she had learned every little detail about you. Where you liked to get your morning coffee, your favorite brunch spot, which bar you like to frequent when you had a night to give, which gym was your favorite, and to not speak with you until you’ve had said coffee. 

It’s these little things Abby remembers, constantly getting her in trouble.

When paparazzi are around, you always accept her hand as she guides you through the swarming crowd. Abby knows you despise it. How inhumane it makes you feel. You feel like an attraction, an object the masses had come to see rather than being viewed as an actual person. In these moments, you cling onto Abby the most. While she’s intimidating to all, there leaves a small exception for you, never has she once been anything to you more than just a sweet, gentle giant she wants close to her at all times. 

Her stature is standing a little over six feet tall. Her arms always looked too good against the tight fabric of her shirt. The one you grip onto as she is navigating through a crowd with you in tow, she’s always focused. The remainder of your team was behind you, while she was always in front of you.

At all times, protecting you.

But it was moments like today, you were grateful for. You blended with the hectic life of the city. You were just two people waiting at a crosswalk, waiting to get to your next destination.

Abby tries not to pay too much attention to how you’re squeezing her bicep, with a strong grip further indication you weren’t letting go anytime soon.

She supposes it’s better than feeling your hand in hers. There were times when Abby deemed it necessary. She would grab it whenever she needed to get you through from point a to point b, quickly. It made you follow her pace instead of lingering behind. She didn’t even know how she was supposed to feel with your head resting against her arm, your body so close to hers.

How was she supposed to act normally?

The rumors were already getting bad. You denied them when asked, and you did gracefully each time.

All Abby could think about if this moment was captured, it would be perceived as intimate. It felt like it was, but she didn’t want the entire world to see. Not when she felt the two of you walking this very nimble line of friends, something professional, and something more. She didn’t need thousands of eyes giving their two senses in a situation she didn’t even fully understand yet. All it took was one person to snap a photo if she gets too close to you. If her touch stayed on you for too long, or if she let the love reach her eyes. The ladder was the most difficult to control. It’s a part of her just as much as the air in her lungs.

This life is new to her. At times, Abby wondered if she’s biting off more than she could chew.

The only reason she’d left was for you. She had a small, quiet life. Abby’s life was very average, a cloud of normalcy hovered above her before the two of you met. A personal trainer full time and she resided in a cabin about half an hour from where she worked. She chopped wood to relieve stress, Her girlfriend liked it at the time, and she did too. She had her two dogs, and a darling kitten. 

She enjoyed the privacy. The isolated countryside her sweet family could reside in. Abby had built this life she was proud of, and it made her happy. For a time, it worked. She was genuinely content with where she was. There wasn’t a need to stress or control where her life was going. It felt like a huge relief. She tended to live inside her own head, not be present in what she has right in front her.

It had been months since she felt like that. It’d felt good and she was proud of herself for not succumbing from within and really coming to terms with what she had built around her. This was the most difficult route for her to take. To allow herself to be open, even if there was a chance of her falling.

Abby really should have felt remorseful for leaving it all behind.

Nora was sweet. The most caring partner she ever had, but there wasn’t much she could compare it to. Besides her, there had only been two, and she didn’t even count Owen. A long misstep until she landed where she needed to be. He did care for her, and he seemed to be more kind-hearted than most men, but the bar was set so low, he should’ve exceeded expectations.

And he did, in some areas.

Others, he fell more than flat but there was little to nothing he could do about it. Abby likes girls and he wasn’t one. Her sexuality shattered their relationship into a million pieces – leaving neither of them any option but to move on.

Nora felt real. This genuine connection she’d never experienced before. Abby knew it one year into their relationship. The pair had built this life together, one where she didn’t feel trapped in, and one Abby could be proud of. She felt acknowledged and loved Nora. There wasn’t a sliver of a doubt in her mind this where she needed to be.

She tells Nora when she needs space, and she isn’t ashamed of it. If she didn’t want to go out, Nora wouldn’t guilt trip her into it. Abby didn’t feel pressured to intertwine her identity with Nora just because they were together. Nora hardly ever gave Abby a reason to be upset. She showed up like partners were supposed to, even when Abby didn’t.

But it was a heavy weight to carry for Nora. Being her first serious queer relationship, Abby was left stunted in areas where Nora had to lend a helping hand. She never made Abby feel bad about it, but the two of them could feel the string keeping them threatening to snap.

Often, it frustrated Abby. To always be the one receiving help and never giving it. She didn't blame her partner, but she was left at a crossroad. 

She never understood Owen more and it really pissed her off.

To no fucking end.

But Nora was far more patient than Abby had ever shown. Maybe it was the testament to love or maybe Nora was just a good person and Abby is shitty. She had more patience than Mother Thersea herself, and it amazed her. Always guiding Abby with a gentle hand, never getting upset with her even when she let her anger shine through.

It makes her feel undeserving of a love she could never earn.

This pure and untainted love had never touched her before, and she’d never fallen this hard. Abby didn’t want to be anywhere but here. She really thought this could be it. Nora could be the one. They could get through those hardships together, right? 

Then you came and overwhelmed her like a tsunami.

She was running late, which was completely out of the ordinary for Abby. Instead of her neat braid, her sun kissed-blonde hair was in a low bun. Underneath her eyes was evidence of her lack of sleep. She hadn’t been getting any as of lately and the bags only seemed to get deeper.

Abby wouldn’t call the fights constant, but it sure did feel like it.

The back and forth, having the same fight consistently. Abby was more than frustrated. The biggest efforts she made were dismissed by Nora, even making her upset at times. She was trying too hard and being annoying, or not doing enough and then it meant she wasn’t present in the relationship.

Abby felt her stuck at a wall, Nora on the other side of it and she couldn’t hear a damn thing.

So, she was running late.

One of the many fights  they’ve had with each other as of late. Nora is tired of dealing with a “baby gay” as she likes to remind her in the heat of their arguments. Abby gets offended, her lips forming into an even deeper pout, her porcelain skin flushed in anger before she gives them both space. 

Contemplating about the future of their relationship in the shower, causing her to be late to work in the process. 

Astronomically behind – her client arrived at the gym she worked at half an hour ago. The most recent argument with Nora plagued her morning. All they seem to do is argue, trapped in what they both need from the relationship, but all the two of them could do is argue, argue, argue.

But neither of them makes a move. They are still as the eerie silence that carries them into questioning. 

It’s when she’s too inside her head, fearing about the future, when she violently bumps into you. Body colliding with yours, Abby’s stone-like build causes you to crash into the pavement, your belongings scatter along with Abby’s. 

“Fuck. Are you alright? Sorry, I’m in such a hurry, I’m sure I wasn’t even paying attention.” You let her pick you from the ground, she does with ease. She looks right through you and you expect the excitement, the excited tears, or to be asked for a picture but it never comes.   

“For a moment I thought I ran into a wall—” You giggle to yourself. “Really, I’m alright.” You spoke softly. You pick up both of your belongings that had slipped from both of your grips, returning it to its owner. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Abby asks again. 

You think it’s cute how much lace of concern is conveyed in her cerulean eyes, full of light and wonder, so beautiful it stops you in your tracks. 

“No no! I’m fine! Really don’t worry about it.” 

Honestly, you’re still in amazement she has no idea who you are. It makes your fondness of her grow even more. The two of you depart quickly, go about your day, and you think nothing of it until you go to unlock your phone to message your manager and it’s not a picture of the moon you’d taken during the eclipse, it’s the mysteriously hot and kind woman you’d run into before. 

Shit. She has my phone. 

Lucky for you, Abby was coming to the same realization. Ready to bring out the workout she had planned out for her first client, opening her phone to access where she had written everything out only to find this isn’t her phone. Well, fuck. 

Abby hollers at Dina to take over the client for a moment, excusing herself for a moment before retreating into the office to call from her direct line. 

Idiot Anderson. Now you get to make an idiot of yourself, twice. 

Way to go. 

She calls her phone and it rings a few times before the familiar voice chimes through the speaker, the one she heard this morning during her fit of anxiety. 

“Please tell me this is the woman I ran into earlier or else I’m going to be even more embarrassed for answering a stranger's phone.” 

“Well you’re in luck.” 

“Oh thank fuck—” You curse yourself before being so vulgar with someone who you didn’t even know. “Sorry! God, this is all my fault. I must have swapped our phones when I picked them up and didn’t even realize.” 

“It’s okay, really, if I was paying attention where I was walking this morning it never would have happened. Did you wanna meet?” 

“No! Let me. Please, this is all my fault. I should at least be the one who makes the drive.” 

“Are you sure? It’s really no trouble. I don’t mind.” 

“I’m really sure.” 

Abby offers the address of work, thinking once after she does if it’s a good idea, a total stranger knowing where she works but she’s already giving the street name and suite number before she can even make her mind. Abby usually doesn’t get nervous but this situation has sent her into a frenzy, thinking about how dumb she could have been. Nora will get a good laugh out of it she thinks, then she is reminded of the fight the two of them were still in. She wonders if she’s even tried to reach out to her yet or if Nora’s just waiting until Abby’s anger rolls over. 

More favorably, the ladder. 

Until the two of them have the comfort of their lives, the cushion they have between their shared friends and the home they share twenty minutes out of the state, until it comes up again and they’ll be contemplating it all over again. Anxiously, the front desk girl, Bevs, the younger girl who has a crush on her, shyly comes up to her. 

Bevs says what she assumes is your name, confusing Abby in the process. 

“You know her?” 

“How could you not? She’s one of the most famous actresses ever.” Abby is stunned to say the least. Truthfully, she had no idea. Her lack of social media keeps her out of the loop and as much as her friends tease her about, if Abby knew who you were the first time around, she’s sure she wouldn’t have been able to say more than two words. Clearly, you’re a fresh face to her. Already, Abby knows Manny is going to have a field day when Bevs lets this information spill in her sheer excitement. 

Great, she thinks. 

“Oh.” 

“I put her in your office. Some of the clients were already starting to have questioning looks, putting the pieces together. Hey! Maybe they're as clueless as you.” 

“Bevs, go back to the front desk.” With a curt nod and realizing she has pushed too far, with a tail between her legs she retreats back to her post. 

Okay, Anderson, let’s get this over with. 

Abby smells you the minute she steps foot in her office. It’s not the usual pinewood scent the candle in her office radiates. There’s a lingering smell of lavender with just a hit of vanilla. It’s sweet as it engulfs her nostrils, she finds herself sniffling slightly, a silent beg for more of it. You’re standing the minute you’re aware of her presence. Painfully, Abby is aware of her lack of clothing. The tight sport jacket is left unopened, her black sweatpants, accompanied with her sports bra, abs on display as she watches your eyes examine her carefully. 

She’s not sure how to feel about it. 

There is a moment, a short one where your eyes go to her chest, the silver barbells constricting against the small fabric, clear as to what lies beneath. 

Abby does smirk at that. She’s only human. 

You keep staring at her for a minute longer, well it feels like one but Abby deems it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” 

“It’s really not a problem.” The more time goes on, the sweeter you are. “It’s pretty close to where I live.” 

Abby didn’t know it then but you were lying straight through your teeth. The trainer didn’t know you moved around your entire day to make the phone swap or the butterflies swarming your stomach from just how attractive and nice she seemed to be. There was something about her that sent your caution flying to the wind, drifting in the leaves with the rest of your pride. 

“Well I appreciate you coming out this way, even if it’s in your area. I really wouldn’t have minded taking the drive.” Abby pulls out your phone as she hands you yours. It’s simple, transactional, and it should have just been left at that but you had a fondness of putting your foot in your mouth. 

“Are you a trainer here?” 

“Uh, yeah. Been doing it for a few years actually. I spent so much time here already, now I get paid for it. Can’t really complain.” 

“Do you ever do private sessions?” 

“Um-” Abby scratches the back of her awkwardly, not sure if you’re asking her genuinely or if you’re trying to insinuate something else entirely. 

“Oh fuck no! I didn’t mean it like that. I just have a��.job opportunity I have to get in shape for and you just look like you know what you’re doing.” Abby thought you might as well point to her physique but if anything she was flattered. It was always nice knowing something she’s been working on for years, her longest standing commitment besides Nora, is appreciated. 

“Sure, we could work something out.” You slightly smile before you exchange phones, this time on purpose, to put in the other’s number. Normally, she didn’t give out her number to clients, but Abby makes an exception for you that day. To this day, she’ll never outwardly admit why she did, not even to herself. 

- 

Two years later, she’s single from her life being turned upside down by you. The casualty being her own relationship, leaving Nora behind was one of the hardest decisions she’s made. Nora never agreed on Abby taking the job. As much as Nora wished for Abby to be more open about their endeavors, as soon as she accepted an offer that could drastically expand the trajectory of their life, Nora couldn’t be asked to compromise another thing. 

That was that. Not even two months into Abby working for you and Nora had called it quits. Abby never talked about it, only you knew she had a girlfriend she used to talk about when you began training with her, and then it was just silent. Back then, you didn’t know her well enough to pry, so you didn’t. 

Even as time passed, the two of you became friends through your employment, spending all your time with her during press season for your upcoming film, Lonely Is The Muse, together. Today was the only day you had off, even if it means Abby technically had the day off, you insisted that both of you leave the hotel and go out for the day. It's the most peace you felt during the European leg of the tour. Only one more day of dealing with your sensory issues, people in your face telling you when and where to go, or the distasteful question regarding your past public breakup instead of the work you were promoting. 

Some interviewers were kind enough to let the drama go but some wanted to get their own viral moment, waiting for you to say the wrong thing. As the industry likes to say, any publicity is good publicity. 

When you’re America's sweetheart actress of the century, such luxuries can’t be afforded. 

As your manager likes to remind you, there’s a reputation you have to protect. 

“Would you like to head back now? Long day tomorrow. Last day of interviews and then your flight leaves first thing in the morning.” 

“Did Stassie put you up to this?” 

“Maybe.” 

“I thought you were supposed to be the fun one.” 

“Mhm, your definition of fun is letting you do whatever you want.” 

“And the problem with that is?” 

All Abby can do is chuckle. 

“What do you want to do then?” Abby asks. She takes note of the sparkle in your eyes, as blinding as the sun but obtaining the serenity of the moon. “I’m all ears sweetheart.” 

It’s how the two of you end up here, a rooftop party, a friend of a friend you said. The party was lowkey, more than the typical ones you would get invited. Maybe because you weren’t in Los Angeles, Miami, or New York — but tucked away on another continent — or perhaps everyone here is just discreet. 

There’s only two fans that come up to you instead of twenty. You’re thankful for some sense of normalcy, one night where you can just feel normal. It still never gets old, people coming up to you as they confess the impact you’ve had on their life. It feels unbelievable at times but you’re grateful for the luxury life you’ve been granted. 

“Here. No liquor tonight.” Abby hands you a glass of red wine, your favorite beverage of choice when you couldn’t have tequila. 

“Yes Ma’am.” You playfully salute her. More than anything, you enjoy the not so subtle chuckle. “Not that I don’t love your company but isn’t Stassie supposed to boss me around?” 

“She felt under the weather. Plus, we both know you don’t listen to her.” 

“And I listen to you?” Your hand plays with her loose blonde hair, smoothing out the white button she’s wearing. 

“Yeah, you do. I wonder why that is.” Abby is playing with fire tonight. Possibly due to the fact that you wouldn’t leave her side, not even for a moment, keeping your body close, practically gluing yourself to her. Yes, she’s charged with keeping you safe and protected but it seems you find enjoyment bringing it to another level entirely. 

“You’re much nicer to look at, that’s all.” It’s light, a quiet whisper, not meant to be heard by anyone — not even for Abby to hear. “Don’t wanna make my handsome bodyguard upset.” 

Faking your pout as you let the words leave your lips, Abby chuckles as you get closer to her, her body standing strong as you push your weight onto her. Stoic as always, while you lean on her, she keeps her eyes peeled. Ensuring your safety at all times. 

“Flattery isn’t going to get you a shot tonight.” 

“I’m just stating the obvious.” 

Abby chuckles, again. She’s delighted you’re enjoying yourself, even if it comes at her expense. There’s a soft jazz song playing outside, couples dancing to the music, you zone out for a moment as you look upon one in particular. 

They are older, possibly in their forties, raven hair beginning to gray, fine lines crinkle when they smile at each other but it’s hard to take note of anything else but the way the couple looks at each other. Your mind wonders how long they’ve been together, if it’s been for years, months, a couple weeks. 

It doesn’t really matter. You just want that. 

The feeling isn’t lost on you, especially when you’re in the arms of the woman you love. For her, she’s being protective, doing her job but you wish it was different. A bubbling desire dripping off your tongue, a need to have her close to you but because she wants. Not because she’s paid to. 

“If I can’t have any tequila shots, god forbid, you have to dance with me.” You down the rest of your wine, placing the empty glass on the bar. “C’mon, you can give Stassie an earful later.” 

Pulling her towards the makeshift dance floor, Abby leads as your head rests against her chest. The steady, soft heartbeat soothes you, a reminder of the safety you feel with her. Caught in the riptide of her kind eyes and heart full of gold. It’s what makes her so unique, so loved, so her. With a surprisingly good tone, Abby sings to the music softly before twirling you around and spinning your body back to her. 

“Is there anything you can’t do?” Your hand rubs lovingly on her lower back as she holds you in her arms. You take pride when it doesn’t feel transactional. When she holds you and it feels as if she was meant to. There’s nothing else comparable to it, her frame melting into yours as your soul finds solace in her warm embrace. 

“There’s plenty of things.” Playfully, Abby smirks. 

“Oh yeah. I’m sure.” 

The sarcasm practically drips out of you as her smirk grows wider. 

“Can I ask you something?” You hesitate for a moment as you find her beautiful blue eyes staring into your soul. It’s only then does everything troubling might dissipate while she holds you — secretly hoping it’s forever. 

“You can ask me anything.” 

You give yourself a moment to collect your thoughts as you move to the delicate beat. “Do you ever wish for a life where you could have had a normal life? I wonder if things could be different.” 

Immediately, Abby answers. 

“Not anymore, no, not for a second.” 

If it was even possible, Abby pulls you closer to her, not urging a word more. It’s how she is, cold and distant to some but they don’t feel the stutter in her breath when you’re near or the soft pad of her thumb rubbing soothingly on the back of your hand. Or the soft words of encouragement when you’re having a difficult day. 

They hear none of it. 

She dances with you for a couple more songs, before you find solace on the couch. You lay beneath the moonlight, your body cuddles into her side as you stare up at the sky. 

It’s lost on you how you’ve ended  with her, someone as kind and untainted as her, wanting to spend her free time with you, but you’re grateful for it. Whatever god you have to thank, you’ll get on your knees to praise their alter for bringing Abby into your life. She’s the best thing to ever happen to you and she doesn’t even know it. Albeit, she hardly knows the extent of how wonderful she is. 

“Why here?” 

“It’s a good night, nice weather. Why not?” 

A question with a question. It’s the most straightforward answer you’ll ever give her. Innuendos for the sweet girl to piece together, but with the soft circles being drawn her stomach with the pad of your finger leaves little to nothing to decode. 

“It’s nice, yeah.” 

Abby always has so little to say but her mind swarms with a thousand reasons why this is a bad idea and a million of why this is where the constellations in the jaded sky have led to you. Straight into the pits of innocence, a heart that’s been hurt more times than she can count but still as golden and whole as one could be. 

“What do you think of Italy?” 

“It’s nice.” 

“Nice? That’s all I get?” 

Abby smirks but her body stills when you play with the waistband of her trousers before gliding back to the security of her abdomen, carving the liner of her defined abs. The ones she tries so hard to cover up, but you saw on the very first day you met her. 

“Do you want more?” You ask, an eyebrow raising in suggestion. Abby knows it’s a double edged sword, one she doesn’t want to be injured with. 

“You’re playing a very dangerous game.” Cautiously, Abby warns. “I’m not sure that last drink was a great idea.” 

You rest your head on her sternum, sapphire eyes looking down at you as her hand finds home on your waist, the blunt of your nails scratching softly at her stomach. 

“They always seem like a great idea at the time, don’t they?” With a gentle hand, you caress her scarred cheek, the pad of your thumb gently tenderly kissing the freckled skin. Outlining the softness of her jaw with your left, while your right one refuses to leave her stomach. 

“I don’t see how anyone would ever want to leave you.” Abby hums, not giving you much to go off of, tight lipped as she’s always been. The Nora situation has always been on your mind. One day, Abby’s speaking of her like she’s the love of her life and the next? Abby stiffens so tight when you bring up her name you promise yourself to never speak of it again. Until now, almost two years later, you’re more curious than you have ever been. The fatal ending, not belonging to you, but still you paw for the answers with your greedy palms. 

“You can just ask me if you want to know. I can see the look in your eyes.” 

“What look? I don’t have a—” 

Abby tilts your chin with your palm, leaning into her touch as you often do. 

“Yes, you do.” 

“How do you know this look?” 

“Hm.” Her thumb pulls at your bottom lip, “You’re just trying to get me in trouble now.” 

Your tone shifts, your eyes become transcendent, more crystal clear than they’d been all night. 

“What happened between you and Nora?” You ask, treading lightly on the ground you’re skating upon, in fear the ground beneath you might just crack if you apply too much pressure. 

“Why is it so important to you?” 

“It’s not that it’s—” You face plant into her chest, giving yourself a moment to breathe. Fuck, even her chest smells good. 

“You don’t ask about anything unless it’s of value to anyone. You don’t waste time, you’re very adamant about it. Painfully so.” Blonde eyebrows relax as she closes her eyes for a moment, but her touch on you soothes you. It’s gentle; a somber comfort bleeding into blissful joy. 

“But I’ve spent a lot of time with you.” 

“Yes, you’ve spent a lot of your time with me.

Abby opens her eyes to see you, your head tilted to the right, as you look upon each carve of her angelic face, the one that could only be carved by the gods above, resembling an angel on earth. As pure as the snow with the biggest heart of gold you ever have had the pleasure of knowing. 

“What?” 

“I didn’t say a thing.” You smile slyly. 

“We didn’t break up because of you, if that’s what you’re asking.” Abby sighs, “You’re not some homewrecker. My home with Nora was already wrecked before we met.” 

“Are you just saying it to make me feel better?” 

“No, I’m not.” You play with the ends of her golden hair, it hurts to be this close to what you want but knowing it’s so clearly out of your reach, league even, all of it will end the same. “Nora wasn’t fond of her being my first relationship with a woman. It caused a ripple effect, me feeling like I wasn’t good enough and her feeling like she has to carry me in the relationship, emotionally anyway.” 

“Is that why you broke up?” 

“No.” 

“It was because of me.” You state, as a matter of fact, knowing there is no other truth to be known. With tears welling up in your eyes, an ache  in your heart, one that made you ache all over. The dread of the guilt weighing heavily on your heart, time and distance still isn’t enough for you to run from it. 

“It was a job that was a great opportunity. Alright? It wasn’t you, even if I hadn’t, we both wanted different things. I didn’t even realize it until after but I wasn’t happy. I promise, it has nothing to do with you.” 

What Abby didn’t know, you needed to hear her say those words. In the back of your head, a monstrous demon unleashes in your mind, telling you crashed her relationship. You were the problem and her inevitable doom, but she’s assuring you it wasn’t the case. 

“We hardly knew each other back then.” 

As pathetic as it sounds, Abby can’t imagine her life without you. 

“Yeah hardly.” 

There’s that look again, pouring into Abby’s soul as it eats her up whole, the gleam in your eyes begging for more. It’ll complicate things if Abby gets involved, she knows this, but it already seems like she is despite her best efforts not to be. 

“Did I do good? You always say you miss stargazing with your brother back home. I know it’s not as quiet as the cabin you have, but I thought it would be okay for now.” 

“The view isn’t bad, not one bit.” She admits as she lets you rub her abdomen, the goosebumps crawling upon her skin the more Abby lets you touch her as if she’s yours to hold. “Lev would like it. I’m convinced the kid likes you more than me now.” 

“As he should. I’m pretty damn amazing.” 

“He asks too many questions though.” 

“About what?” 

“I dunno…..things.” Abby retreats back into her shell, the layer of protection she uses to protect herself from getting hurt. Most of all, out of everyone the gods could torture her to be confused about, of course it has to be you. Everyone in your life is always begging for pieces of your time, pieces of your affection and bits of your time to suck you dry. Abby has always wondered how you juggle it all. It feels cruel to even think you would put her in the mix. 

Painfully, there’s nights like tonight, where she sees the desire swarming in your eyes — every part of her pleads to give in to the temptation. Give into something she’s never even let herself think about until the last few months. As thick as drywall, there was a barrier keeping her heart from you, one she kept to protect you and herself even. 

The absolute last thing she wanted was to wreck everything this has to offer. If she makes the wrong move, all of it can come crashing down on you…it’s the last thing she wants. Make you a martyr in her story, one she thinks and dreams of often but knows you’re too big for her to exist in your life. The circles you run in don’t even exist in the same planet, the same fucking universe if Abby’s being honest. 

“What things?” You pout, your hand traveling south, caressing her thigh with a familiarity Abby wishes you didn’t have. She wishes for a lot but they never come true, that’s all you can be, a dying wish Abby curses upon a fading star.  

“It’s just stupid shit, not worth mentioning.” 

“Abby…” 

“Yeah?” 

“I—” You take a deep breath, your voice already shaky and you haven’t even told her yet. “I don’t think you even know how much you mean to me.” Abby isn’t sure where you’re going with this, terrifying her instantly. 

Have you finally had your fill of her? Were you gonna fire her? Now? 

“Lev doesn’t just talk to you about us.” 

“Us?” Nervously, Abby stomach clenches, unprepared for where this conversation is heading. 

“Why are you so scared?” 

Abby visibly and loudly gulps, almost making you giggle slightly. 

“I-I’m not.” 

The stonewall she attempts to hide behind but you won’t let her, not tonight. Slumping in the shadows, waiting for you to find someone else to love as she watches your happiness from a far, that’s what she allows herself. Nothing more and nothing less. 

“Abs, look at me.” She meets your eyes, away from the constellations in the sky, afraid if she looks for a moment too long she’ll be stuck here forever. “Talk to me, m’right here, not going anywhere unless you want me to.” 

Instantly, Abby grips your hips, keeping you in your place. 

“No, that’s not—” 

“What?” 

“I’m not what you want. I’m surely not what anyone needs. Hell, I’ve only been with one woman which is deemed to be for not being enough, right? I’m the girl who came out too late, who doesn’t have enough experience but because I’m built like some fucking adonis I need to know whatever the fuck I’m doing but I don’t. I never know what I’m doing. The only thing I know how to do is protect you, that’s all I’m good for and I’m not gonna screw that up just because I—” 

“Because what?” Your pelvis is on top of hers, your face coming closer to Abby’s, watching as you are irrevocably close to her, closer than you’ve ever been, wet lips ghosting over her pouty pink lips. Abby doesn’t even know when you moved, how you got so close, too lost in her own head to register your movements. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Abby puffs out. 

“It matters to me.” You sink into her, further, if it's even possible. “No one matters more than you, alright?” 

“But there’s people.” Abby looks for an excuse to get up, she comes up enough so she’s sitting up against the armrest of the patio couch, holding your lower back as she does so, leaving you straddling her hips. 

“I don’t care. All that matters is you.” You push a piece of blonde hair away, seeing her beautiful cheeks more clearly, her shining blue eyes finding its unique path to your heart, the one especially made for her. “Here just let me talk, alright? You don’t have to say anything. Just listen.” 

Abby is nearly crying, practically purring as you run your fingers through her cascading blonde hair. It’s too much but not enough. Although she is sure of one thing, the one thing she wants more than anything. 

“I’ve always been one for pretty girls. I had a reputation around Hollywood, always chasing one after the next, never reaching my fill or as the tabloids like to say.” You chuckled half-heartedly; the wound cutting deeper than you would have liked. “My publicist having to pay paparazzi an obscene amount of money to get these photos from ever hitting online, month after month, it was pathetic really. Just trying to fill a hole, one I didn’t even know how to fill.” 

“I didn’t know that.” 

“It’s not something I’m proud of and I never wanted you to see me differently but I’m not ashamed anymore though. I’m not that person anymore. I haven’t been since I met you.” Abby falls silent, her cheeks turning crimson before she can try to hide it “You not knowing how I was, it's just the humbling I needed. Not to mention you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen— you still are— but you had a girlfriend so I kept my feelings silent. Something just felt different with you and then you were single and I was afraid of you.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I didn’t want to ruin you so I made a promise to myself. I would never start anything with you, not unless I was in love with you.” 

“You love me?” 

“It’s impossible not to.” You sigh into her, forehead pressed against hers, her strong hold not letting go. “You don’t have to say anything or do anything. I don’t expect anything in return. I just can’t live in a world where you think because you’re not experienced as some, you think you’re less than people who are.” 

“It’s true, I’m not there with everyone else and it shows.” 

“Abby, you’re not getting it.” 

“Well, no shit. I’m not good enough for any of this, you especially.” 

“It’s not…” You bite your lip as you reach for her hands on your waist, intertwining them with your own. “Abs, it would’ve saved me a lot of trouble.” Your lips ghost over her lips again, but this time Abby inches closer, her breath warm as it hits your mouth. 

“What?” 

“If I was a patient person and waited for you.” 

More than before, Abby’s breath is heavy as the rise and fall of her chest is rapid, trying to calm herself down but it’s impossible when you’re this close. It’s a lot for her, maybe she’s overly sensitive, but your touch is practically lighting her on fire. Abby wonders if it will ever be able to be put out or if your magnetic touch will leave her scorned. 

Puppy eyes inwardly pleading for an ounce of your touch, so sweet as she supports your weight with her strong thighs, anchoring you to her — never quite letting go. A single glance detrimental to the layer of protection she built around herself. 

“There’s no more waiting, m’right here.” Abby closes the gap indefinitely, lips connecting with yours as they move in perfect harmony, as if this is what she was made for. Involuntarily, she whimpers in your mouth as you gently tug at her bottom nibble at her bottom lip, your tongue sliding in as it dominates her own. It happens too quickly — the way her very being melts into you. 

Like honey to a bee, there’s nothing that’s ever been so sweet. 

This is all you need. 

“Abby?” 

“Yeah, angel?” 

“Let’s get out of here.”

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[delta-orionis]

How Big are Iterators?

One thing Rain World does very well is portraying a sense of scale when it comes to iterators. They're massive superstructures large enough to have entire cities built on their roofs, and their processes are literally so powerful that they alter the natural environment around them.

I think in-game they're kind of meant to be unknowably huge, especially since the player character is literally a small animal who can't possibly fathom an iterator's entire extent. Despite this, I decided to try and figure out exactly how big they are.

Just a warning, this post is a bit long. I really fell down a rabbit hole here.

In-Game Clues

Five Pebbles and Looks to the Moon are the only iterators that the player can explore, but they're so huge that it's impossible to see exactly how big they are from so close. The only glimpse we get is from atop the big tree in Outer Expanse, where Five Pebbles' superstructure can be seen in the distance.

He's so big that his entire can doesn't even fit on the screen.

(Ditto, minus the clouds)

With nothing else close by to compare him to, it's almost impossible to tell exactly how big he is from this image.

However, we can see the entirety of other iterator cans in the distance from atop The Wall.

Here's what they look like not obscured by clouds:

The Speculation Zone

I made some assumptions about iterators to make my calculations easier.

An iterator's can (the large rectangular section) is 2 times as wide as it is tall.

Their legs are 1/2 the height of their can.

Their can is half obscured by a relatively uniform cloud layer.

These assumptions might not be entirely accurate, but they make the math easier.

Cloud Layer Height

At first I was tempted to try and estimate iterator height based on the cloud layer surrounding them, but I made the mistake of assuming the cloud layer is made up of rain-bearing nimbostratus clouds (which can reach up to 5km in height). This would make them literally taller than Mt. Everest. Iterators are big, but I don't think they're that big. I think it's safer to assume that the cloud layer is made up of low-lying stratus clouds that form a thick fog.

The way iterator rain functions could be an entirely different discussion, but I personally think it's caused by a sudden expulsion of large quantities of hot water vapor which very quickly condenses into rain clouds. A topic for another time, maybe. The takeaway is that I think the weather created by iterators doesn't have a clear analogue to real life weather, and it's misguided to assume that they function the same way.

Skyscraper Height

One thing that iterators have that can be compared to real life, however, is cities.

The largest buildings in these cities can be seen at a distance.

This in-game iterator sprite is 122 pixels tall, and the tallest building visible is 20 pixels tall. This means the top of this iterator's can is 5.6 times as tall as the tallest building on its roof.

We can compare these skyscrapers to the largest buildings on Earth. This requires some additional assumptions:

While the civilization that built the iterators is likely able to create skyscrapers much taller than the ones humans have created, I'm going to assume that the ones visible here are comparable in size.

I'm also going to assume that these skyscrapers are residential buildings, built to fit a high population density on top of an iterator. The tallest buildings on Earth tend to have very tall antenna spires which add to their overall height but are not inhabitable. Residential skyscrapers tend to be significantly shorter, so I'm going to use them as a comparison rather than the tallest skyscrapers on Earth in general.

According to Wikipedia, the current tallest residential skyscrapers range from about 300 meters to 475 meters tall. I'm going to assume the one in-game is 400 meters tall, as a nice even number.

5.6(400m) = 2240m

This would make an iterator's height, from ground level to the top of their can, about 2240 meters (2.24 kilometers, 1.4 miles).

Here's a diagram comparing that to the heights of some of the tallest free-standing manmade structures:

And here's a size comparison between a typical iterator can and Mount Everest:

Smaller than a mountain, but still huge.

Conclusions

Based on these estimates, I think typical iterator cans are about 2 kilometers (1.24 miles) in height.

This would make iterators significantly taller than anything created by humans, but I personally think an advanced society like the one that created the iterators would have no problem creating a structure this tall. (They canonically created thousands of iterators, after all.)

This estimate is also much shorter than my misguided original calculation, which made them taller than an entire mountain. While I do think iterators are meant to be unfathomably huge, I don't think there would be enough material on the planet to feasibly create thousands of identical mountain-sized superstructures. The player is also able to ascend from the ground to the top of Five Pebbles in just a few cycles (if they're quick), and I think it's much more feasible for an animal like a slugcat to be able to ascend a height of ~2km in a couple of days than to climb up an entire mountain. But again, this is pure speculation.

I made a ton of assumptions and rounded a bunch of numbers, so I could be completely wrong. There's probably other ways you could try to estimate an iterator's height that I haven't explored here. Let me know what you think; I love hearing about other people's ideas and theories.

Thank you for reading!

[its-avalon-08]

Hi, could you do a Fernando Alonso one In which he and reader have been together for over 2 years, and during the break between Singapore and Austin, he secretly plans how to propose to her, at the same time they enjoy having quality time together without the chaos of race weeks, like taking her to a night out in Monaco in his new Aston Martin Valkyrie, in addition to going to visit the reader's family, in which during this visit he sees her interacting with the children of her family and sees that this is what he wants to have a family with her, in which he does not know that she found out she was pregnant and was going to announce it. And during the last week of the break, he closes her favorite restaurant in Monaco and proposes to her, and after they arrive at their apartment, he as a last gift, presents her with a British Cocker Spaniel puppy, and she finally announces that she is pregnant by giving him a mini Aston Martin shirt with his number and only announces the engagement and pregnancy to the public during the Austin GP after he gets his first podium of the year.

my future has you (fa2)

✦ pairing - fernando alonso x female!reader

✦ genre - cute, fluff, engagement, pregnancy

The paddock was always a whirlwind of noise, engines roaring, teams scrambling, and fans clamoring for glimpses of their favorite drivers. It was organized chaos, something Fernando Alonso had grown accustomed to over the years. He thrived in it—focused, sharp, and always calculating his next move.

But two years ago, something shifted. Something—or rather, someone—made the chaos feel…different. Lighter.

He remembered that day vividly. It had been a particularly tense race weekend, and Fernando had been storming through the McLaren garage, his mind racing with strategy adjustments when he almost collided with her. She was standing just outside one of the hospitality suites, talking animatedly to a colleague. Her laugh had caught his attention first—bright, unfiltered, like she had no care in the world.

And then, as if sensing his presence, she turned. Their eyes met, and for a moment, Fernando forgot the race entirely.

“Watch where you're going, Alonso," she had teased, a small grin playing on her lips. "Almost knocked me over.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused by her boldness. “I wasn’t the one standing in the middle of the walkway.”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to keep an eye out next time, won't you?" she shot back, a playful glint in her eye. Before he could reply, she turned back to her conversation, leaving him standing there, slightly stunned.

"Do you remember how smug you were that day?" she asked, breaking into his thoughts as they sat on their balcony, the warm Monaco evening wrapping around them.

"Smug? Yo? I was being professional," Fernando replied with a smirk, leaning back in his chair.

She laughed, shaking her head. "Professional? You spent the entire next day trying to find reasons to walk by the hospitality area. I saw you, you know."

"Maybe I wanted to check out the competition," he said, casually sipping his drink, eyes twinkling. "Make sure McLaren wasn't stealing any of our secrets."

She nudged him with her foot. "Or maybe you just wanted another chance to run into me."

He smiled at that, not bothering to hide it. "Maybe I did."

That had been the start of it. From that fleeting moment in the paddock, things had unfolded naturally between them—long conversations over post-race dinners, quiet walks along whatever city they found themselves in, and late-night texts that quickly turned into something neither of them could ignore.

Their relationship was built on easy conversation, shared silences, and mutual respect for each other's world. She understood racing in a way few others did—her job kept her involved in the sport, but she wasn’t just a fan. She had her own career, her own life, and Fernando admired that about her.

"You always act like you were the smooth one," she teased, bringing her knees up to her chest as she curled up on the lounge chair. "But you were nervous the first time you asked me out."

Fernando scoffed, though the memory made him chuckle. "Nervous? I wasn’t nervous. I was…strategic."

"Strategic?" She burst out laughing. "You stammered for a good five seconds before you managed to ask if I wanted to grab dinner. You looked terrified."

“I was tired," he said defensively, grinning. "Long race weekend. Tough strategy calls."

"Sure, tough strategy calls," she echoed, rolling her eyes, but there was a softness in her gaze that hadn’t been there two years ago. It was something only time could bring—time spent building trust, learning each other's quirks, navigating the chaos of life together.

"Well, whatever I said, it worked. We’re here now, aren’t we?"

She smiled, leaning across the small table to take his hand. "Yes, we are. And I wouldn't change any of it."

Their dynamic had always been easy, with a kind of natural rhythm. They challenged each other, but never in a way that felt combative. She was the only person who could tease Fernando Alonso, Formula 1 champion, and make him laugh at himself. And for her, Fernando was a constant, someone she could depend on no matter how busy the paddock got.

"You know, it’s funny,” she said, looking out at the view of the harbor. “I wasn’t expecting this—any of this. I thought I’d be around F1 for work, sure, but I never thought I’d end up dating one of the drivers.”

"One of the drivers? Ay, I’m not just ‘one of the drivers.’” He gave her a mock-offended look. “I’m Fernando Alonso."

"Okay, mister two-time world champion,” she teased, mimicking his Spanish accent. “I know exactly who you are.”

He squeezed her hand gently, a smile playing on his lips. "And I know exactly who you are. The woman who keeps me grounded."

She softened at that, her fingers lacing with his. "I think we ground each other."

He nodded, his eyes meeting hers in the dim light of the evening. "You’re the best thing that’s happened to me outside of the car."

"Well, that’s a big compliment," she said, smiling. "But honestly, sometimes I think I’m just trying to keep up with you. This world…it moves so fast. But when it’s just us…like this…" She trailed off, searching for the right words. "It feels like I can breathe."

Fernando watched her closely, knowing exactly what she meant. Racing was a relentless sport, always pushing, always demanding. But with her, there was balance. A sense of calm amidst the madness.

"With you, I’m not Alonso the driver," he said softly. "I’m just…me."

"That’s because I don’t care about the trophies," she replied, her thumb brushing over the back of his hand. "I care about you. The person you are when the helmet comes off."

He looked at her for a long moment, his heart swelling in a way that felt rare. She saw him—truly saw him, beyond the victories and the records. And in this life, that was more precious than any championship.

“I love you,” he said quietly, the words carrying weight they had always held but now felt heavier.

Her smile was soft, her eyes filled with warmth. “I love you too, mi amor.”

And just like that, Fernando knew he had made the right decision. He had found his person—someone who knew both the man and the driver, and loved both in equal measure.

The next step? He was ready for it.

time skip

The break between the Singapore and Austin races was a rare window of calm. No strategizing, no race-day adrenaline, no media obligations—just time. Time to breathe, to reset, and, for Fernando, time to be with her.

They had spent the past few days soaking up the simplicity of life without the whirlwind of Formula 1. Lazy mornings in their Monaco apartment, walks along the harbor, and, of course, late-night drives in his new Aston Martin Valkyrie. The car was a masterpiece—sleek, powerful, and exhilarating, much like the woman sitting beside him in the passenger seat. But as much as he loved the car, it was the quiet moments with her that made these breaks special.

Tonight had been perfect—a long drive, the streets of Monaco glowing under the streetlights, her laughter echoing as the Valkyrie’s engine roared through the tunnels. They’d ended the night at one of their favorite little spots for dinner, a quiet corner restaurant with no paparazzi and no pressure.

But as Fernando lay in bed now, his arm draped over her sleeping form, his thoughts weren’t on the Aston Martin or the adrenaline of the races. They were on her. And a plan—one that had been quietly forming in his mind for weeks.

I want to marry her.

The thought felt surreal every time it crossed his mind. He, Fernando Alonso, the man known for his sharp focus and relentless drive, was thinking about engagement rings, proposals, and—God—family. He shifted slightly, careful not to wake her, and let his gaze linger on her peaceful expression. There was a softness to her that contrasted so beautifully with the sharpness of the racing world. It grounded him.

He wasn’t sure when exactly he had started to feel this way, but now that the idea had taken root, it wouldn’t leave him alone.

A few days later, they were on a plane to visit her family. It was a trip they'd planned months ago, but now, with the idea of proposing on his mind, it felt different. Like every moment with her family was magnified, every interaction scrutinized through a new lens.

It was during one of these moments that everything became crystal clear.

They were at her parents’ house, the familiar warmth of a home filled with love and laughter surrounding them. She had disappeared into the backyard with her nephews and nieces, and Fernando had followed, leaning casually against the doorframe as he watched her.

She was on her knees, laughing as one of the toddlers attempted to catch a ball she rolled gently toward him. Another child was tugging on her shirt, demanding attention, and she handled it all with such ease—patience and joy radiating from her in a way that made Fernando’s heart stutter.

Look at her…

The way she smiled at the kids, the way she wiped the smallest one’s face with the sleeve of her shirt after an ice cream accident, the way she ruffled their hair and cheered them on during their make-shift games—it was so natural. So effortless.

God, she was beautiful. Not just in the way she looked (though she was stunning), but in the way she loved. The way she cared.

She looked up at him then, catching his eye. “You’re just going to stand there and watch?” she teased, waving him over. “Come join the fun, Alonso.”

He smiled but stayed rooted in place. I want this. I want this every day. The thought hit him so hard, it made him feel almost dizzy. She was the woman he wanted to spend his life with. The woman he wanted to build a family with.

The idea of Fernando Alonso, the fierce, focused racing driver, being a dad had always seemed distant, something he’d think about later, much later. But now, watching her surrounded by her family, hearing the way the kids giggled and clung to her like she was their favorite person in the world, the thought didn’t feel so distant anymore.

She would be an incredible mother.

She stood up, carrying one of the younger kids on her hip as she made her way back toward him. “What’s that look for?” she asked, tilting her head at him with that mischievous smile he adored.

He shook his head, trying to shake the overwhelming feeling that had just hit him. “Nothing,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “Just… watching you.”

Her smile softened, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re staring,” she teased gently.

I’m staring because I’m realizing just how much I love you. But he didn’t say that. Not yet.

Instead, he reached out and took the toddler from her arms, bouncing the little girl gently. “I think she likes me more than you,” he said, smirking as the child immediately clung to his shirt.

“Oh please, she’s just being polite,” she laughed, but her eyes shone with a different kind of warmth—a tenderness that made his chest tighten.

As they spent the rest of the day with her family, Fernando couldn’t stop thinking about it. The image of her surrounded by children, of her glowing with joy and love, kept replaying in his mind. Every time he looked at her, it was like the vision of their future together became clearer.

I have to propose.

The idea had been there for a while, but now it wasn’t just a thought—it was a need. He needed to make her his in every sense of the word. And soon.

That night, as they lay in bed in her childhood home, she curled up against him, resting her head on his chest. The steady rhythm of her breathing was soothing, but Fernando’s mind was racing.

“I had a good day,” she mumbled sleepily. “I love watching you with my family. The kids adore you, you know.”

He smiled, brushing a hand through her hair. “I adore them too,” he replied softly. And then, without really thinking, he added, “I think… I could get used to that.”

She shifted slightly, looking up at him, curiosity in her eyes. “Get used to what?”

Fernando swallowed, his heart beating faster. Say it. Just say it. “Kids. Family. You.”

She blinked, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he had said too much. But then, her face softened into the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.

“Well, you’ve got me,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “The rest… we can figure out together.”

His heart clenched. She had no idea how much that meant to him.

I’m going to marry her.

He had already started thinking about how to make it happen. He’d take her out to her favorite restaurant in Monaco, make the night perfect, and when the time was right, he’d get down on one knee and ask her to spend the rest of her life with him.

But for now, he held her close, letting the warmth of her body against his be enough. He had a plan, but more importantly, he had her. And that was everything.

Soon, he promised himself, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she drifted to sleep in his arms. Soon.

time skip

Chapter 3: The Proposal

The last week of the break had arrived, and the tension in Fernando's chest had been building. Not the kind of tension that came with racing—this was different. This was excitement, nervousness, and an overwhelming sense of love all at once. He’d spent days planning the proposal, every detail carefully considered. He wanted it to be perfect, just like her.

Tonight was the night.

He had reserved a table at her favorite restaurant in Monaco, a quiet spot overlooking the water, where the lights from the yachts danced on the waves like stars. They had been here countless times before, but tonight, it would be different.

She had no idea what was coming. She had simply thought it was a casual date night, another sweet moment in the blissful calm of their break. But for Fernando, tonight meant everything.

He watched her as they walked into the restaurant, her hand gently resting in his, her face glowing under the soft lights. God, she’s beautiful. That thought echoed in his mind more and more these days, and tonight, it resonated with a deeper intensity.

“Table for two,” the hostess greeted them with a warm smile, leading them to a private corner with a stunning view of the harbor.

She turned to him, her eyes twinkling. “You really outdid yourself, Alonso. The view is stunning.”

Not as stunning as you, he thought, but all he did was smile, pulling out her chair for her. “Only the best for you.”

As the night went on, he couldn’t stop staring at her. The way she laughed, the way she spoke with such ease, the way she reached across the table and squeezed his hand—it all made him fall a little more in love, if that was even possible.

But beneath his calm exterior, Fernando’s heart was racing. The small velvet box in his jacket pocket felt heavy with significance. Every time his hand brushed against it, his pulse quickened. It’s time.

As they finished dessert, the moment arrived. Fernando took a deep breath, stood from his chair, and slowly made his way around to her side. She looked up at him, confused at first, but then her eyes widened as she realized what was happening.

He knelt down on one knee.

Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes filling with a mix of shock and emotion. “Fernando…”

He opened the box, revealing the ring—a simple, elegant diamond that sparkled under the soft lights. This is it. This is the moment. His heart was in his throat, but his voice was steady.

“You know I’m not a man of many words,” he began, his gaze locked on hers. “But with you, I’ve found a love I didn’t think I was capable of. You’ve brought peace to my life, joy, and something I never knew I needed. Every moment with you feels like home.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, her hand still covering her mouth as she listened to him.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he continued, his own emotions threatening to break through. “I want to build a family with you, to share everything—good and bad, highs and lows. I love you more than I can ever put into words. Will you marry me?”

The world seemed to stand still. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears as he waited for her response.

She blinked back tears, her smile trembling as she nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course, I’ll marry you!”

Fernando’s heart soared. He slipped the ring onto her finger, his hands shaking ever so slightly, and then pulled her into his arms as the restaurant staff quietly applauded in the background. He held her close, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair, feeling the steady rhythm of her heart against his.

She said yes.

Later, back in their apartment, they were still buzzing from the excitement. She couldn’t stop staring at the ring, her eyes sparkling with happiness every time she looked at it. Fernando, however, had one more surprise up his sleeve.

“Stay here,” he said with a smirk, disappearing into the bedroom.

When he returned, he was holding a small bundle in his arms—a soft, floppy-eared British Cocker Spaniel puppy with the sweetest eyes. The puppy wriggled in his arms, his tiny tail wagging as Fernando carefully placed him in her lap.

Her eyes widened in shock, her hands immediately reaching out to cradle the tiny dog. “Fernando, oh my God,” she gasped, her voice breaking with emotion. “Is he… is he ours?”

Fernando sat beside her, his heart swelling at the sight of her so overwhelmed with joy. “He’s ours,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “A little gift… to start our family.”

Tears streamed down her face as she held the puppy close. “He’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

But then, she bit her lip, a look of nervous excitement flashing in her eyes as if she was holding onto a secret of her own.

“There’s… one more thing,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Fernando raised an eyebrow, curious. “What is it?”

She reached into her bag, pulling out a tiny, neatly folded piece of clothing. As she handed it to him, his heart skipped a beat. He unfolded it to reveal a miniature Aston Martin racing shirt, with his number emblazoned on the back.

For a moment, he didn’t understand. His brow furrowed in confusion as he glanced from the tiny shirt to her, waiting for an explanation.

And then it hit him.

His breath caught in his throat. No…

“We’re having a baby,” she whispered, her voice soft and full of love. “I found out a few weeks ago. I wanted to tell you, but… tonight just felt like the perfect moment.”

Fernando stared at the shirt, then at her, then back again. His heart pounded in his chest, emotions swirling so intensely he could hardly breathe. I’m going to be a father.

He blinked, his eyes already filling with tears he couldn’t stop. “You’re… you’re pregnant?”

She nodded, tears spilling from her own eyes now as she watched him process the news. “We’re going to have a baby, Fernando.”

The joy that surged through him was unlike anything he had ever felt. He didn’t know what to say, how to express the overwhelming love and happiness coursing through his veins. So, instead, he pulled her into his arms, holding her as tightly as he could, his face buried in her neck.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you so much.”

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the puppy nestled between them, the future now brighter than ever before.

Fernando’s mind raced, imagining the life they were about to build together. A life filled with love, laughter, and now, the incredible gift of a child. I’m going to be a father. We’re going to be a family.

He pulled back slightly, cupping her face in his hands as he kissed her gently, his heart full to the brim. “You’ve given me everything I could ever want,” he whispered against her lips. “A family. A future. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

She smiled, her fingers tracing his jawline. “We’re both lucky, Fernando.”

And as they sat there, surrounded by love, Fernando realized that this—this—was his greatest victory of all.

time skip

The buzz around the Austin Grand Prix was electric, but for Y/N, the excitement wasn’t just about the race. She stood in the paddock, watching as Fernando prepared for what felt like an important day—more important than usual. His confidence radiated from him, his focus sharp as ever. He was determined, and she could sense that today might just be the day.

It was the final race before their big announcement. Their engagement, her pregnancy—their whole future, waiting to be shared with the world. The past few weeks had been surreal, filled with love and quiet moments of preparation for the life they were building together.

Y/N's hand instinctively rested on her barely-there baby bump, her heart fluttering as she watched Fernando step into his Aston Martin for the race. He gave her a quick, reassuring smile before lowering his visor, and she smiled back, her love for him swelling in her chest.

I hope he knows how proud I am of him. No matter what happens today, he's already won in my eyes.

The race was intense, filled with the usual heart-stopping moments that came with Formula 1. But by the final laps, Fernando was in third place, holding steady. The commentators were going wild, the crowd roaring with excitement, and Y/N’s heart raced as she watched him maneuver through the last corners of the Circuit of the Americas.

When Fernando crossed the finish line in third, securing his first podium of the year, the explosion of emotions was overwhelming. Tears filled her eyes as she watched him raise his fist in triumph, the crowd cheering his name.

He did it. The pride she felt was immeasurable, and not just for the podium, but for the man he was—strong, loving, determined. Her heart swelled as she thought about the life they were about to share with the world.

In the cool-down room, Fernando could barely contain his excitement. As soon as the race ended, he thought of her—his Y/N—waiting for him. This podium meant more than just points or trophies; it marked a milestone in his life, a turning point that he couldn’t wait to share with her. The moment he stepped off the podium, his mind was already on the next thing—announcing their future to the world.

After the celebrations and interviews, Fernando made his way back to the paddock, his eyes scanning the crowd for her. And then, there she was. She stood near the Aston Martin garage, her eyes shining with pride and love, the faintest hint of tears in her eyes.

As soon as their eyes met, Fernando’s expression softened. He walked straight to her, not caring about the cameras or the spectators. He pulled her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he whispered, “We did it.”

She laughed softly, resting her head against his chest. “You did it. I’m so proud of you, Nando.”

He pulled back slightly, his hands resting on her waist as he looked into her eyes. “Are you ready to tell them?”

Y/N bit her lip, nerves bubbling inside her. She wasn’t sure why she was nervous—it wasn’t like they hadn’t planned this moment. But still, announcing something so personal, so life-changing, felt monumental.

I can’t believe we’re about to tell the world. Our family. Our future.

She nodded, smiling up at him. “I’m ready.”

Fernando squeezed her hand before turning to the media gathered around them. He took a deep breath, his arm wrapped protectively around Y/N’s shoulders as he spoke into the microphone.

“I just want to thank everyone for their support today,” he began, his voice steady despite the emotion he felt. “This podium means a lot to me, but there’s something even more important that I want to share with you all.”

The murmurs from the crowd grew louder, curiosity sparking as they realized something big was coming.

Fernando glanced down at Y/N, his expression softening. “Y/N and I… we’re engaged.”

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by applause and cheers. Y/N felt her cheeks flush as she smiled, her hand instinctively reaching for Fernando’s.

“But that’s not all,” Fernando continued, his eyes shining with excitement. “We’re also expecting a baby.”

The reaction was instant—a wave of congratulations, gasps, and exclamations of joy. Y/N felt tears welling in her eyes as the weight of the moment settled over her. We’re really doing this. We’re starting our family.

The media buzzed with questions and excitement, but all Y/N could focus on was the way Fernando looked at her, his love and pride radiating from him like warmth on a cold day. She leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder as the cameras flashed around them.

As the noise around them swirled, Fernando leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I can’t wait to meet our little one.”

Y/N’s heart swelled, the gravity of their new life hitting her all over again. She squeezed his hand, her smile soft and full of love. “Neither can I.”

Later that evening, after the chaos of the day had settled, they returned to their apartment. It was quiet now, just the two of them and their puppy, who was sprawled out on the couch. Fernando sat beside Y/N, pulling her close, his hand resting gently on her stomach.

“Today was perfect,” he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. “You, the baby… it’s everything I ever wanted.”

Y/N turned to look at him, her eyes brimming with tears of happiness. “I love you, Nando. More than words can say.”

He kissed her gently, his hand still on her stomach, feeling the connection to the new life they were bringing into the world. “I love you too, more than I ever thought was possible.”

As they sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Y/N couldn’t help but smile. The future was theirs—full of love, full of family, full of the life they had always dreamed of.

And it all starts now.

[reigns-devotee]

Paring: Roman Reigns, Fem!Reader

Warnings: Oral, P in V, language, body fluids, 18+, Minors DNI

Word count: 2,726

Summary: During an unexpected night in a penthouse together, the atmosphere grows tense as the reader struggles to keep her composure around him. Their bond, usually defined by lighthearted friendship, deepens into something raw and passionate after an unnerving encounter with a snake leads to Roman rescuing her and an intimate moment between them.

I stood on the edge of the dock, staring out at the shimmering skyline from Roman Reigns’ penthouse balcony. We were only here for the next event, and it was a surreal upgrade from the cramped hotel rooms we usually got. The place was pristine, everything decked out in sleek, dark finishes, floor-to-ceiling windows showing off the whole city below like it was on display just for us. The stars had come out, faint against the city lights, and the air smelled faintly of the ocean.

Roman and I… well, we had one of those friendships that just made sense, filled with inside jokes, sarcastic banter, and the kind of warmth you don’t expect from a guy who looks like he was carved from stone. Sure, the world might see Roman Reigns as the hottest guy alive — and I get it, trust me. He's built like a god, his voice practically drips charisma, and every glance he throws could melt steel. It’s no wonder women go weak at the knees around him. But, see, I’d gotten used to ignoring the obvious. We were friends, just friends, and that was that. Mostly.

But now? Whoever thought it was a great idea to put me in the same penthouse suite with him for the night… well, they either had a cruel sense of humor or they just wanted to see if I’d make it out alive. It’s one thing to bump into him in the hallway or share a few laughs over lunch; it’s a whole different thing to spend an entire night sharing the same air, the same silence, the same damn rooftop view with this guy. I swear, they’re trying to kill me — or maybe, just maybe, test my resolve.

Roman steps up behind me, his presence instantly filling the space as he hands me a glass of wine. I turn around, and there he is, standing in nothing but a pair of low-hanging black sweatpants. His abs catch the faint light from the city, each defined muscle casting a subtle shadow, and his dark hair falls messily around his face. I swear, he’s either trying to test my patience or push me past my limit. My heart skips a beat as I meet his gaze, and I scramble to find my words. 

"It’s nice up here,” I manage, trying to distract myself from the pure temptation standing inches away. 

He lets out a dark, low chuckle that makes my stomach flip. “Yeah, a hell of a lot better than those cheap-ass hotels Triple H sticks us in,” he says, walking closer, his elbows leaning on the railing beside me. I can smell the faint, earthy scent of his cologne, and every bit of my concentration is going toward acting normal, keeping my cool. 

I force myself to look away, back over the city, pretending the view is somehow more interesting than him standing next to me. But just as I’m about to speak, he tenses, his expression changing.

"Shit, don’t move," he whispers, his voice low and cautious.

My eyes widen as I register the seriousness in his tone, and then I feel it — something smooth and cold coiling around my ankle, brushing against my skin. My breath catches as I slowly glance down, heart hammering, to find a small, red snake winding itself upward, tightening slightly with each small shift of its body.

Fear jolts through me, freezing me in place. My mind races, but my limbs refuse to respond as I look up, locking eyes with Roman, my silent plea for help clear. His eyes stay on mine, steady and reassuring, but I barely catch the calming look before my vision goes blurry and fades, my knees buckling as I sink into darkness.

“Y/N!” The sound of my name cuts through the fog in my mind, yanking me back to reality with a sharp intake of breath. My own scream echoes around us, bouncing off the stone walls and dissolving into silence as I feel hands clutching my arms, grounding me. Blinking, I look up to find Roman’s face inches away, his usual calm replaced with wide eyes and a look of relief mixed with panic. His face is pale, breath shallow as he chokes out, “Jesus…” 

Before I can process what’s happening, he pulls me close, wrapping me in his arms, his chest solid and steady beneath me. I lean into him, my heart racing as his warmth seeps through me, helping me catch my breath. We’re not on the dock anymore. Somehow, during my blackout, he must have carried me inside. It’s quiet now, just the faint hum of the city beyond the walls, his presence a grounding force as my pulse slowly calms.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he whispers into my hair, his voice so soft I almost miss it. “It’s gone.”

My fingers grip his shoulders, his touch as unyielding as stone, yet somehow gentle, as if I might break. I nestle into his embrace, his heartbeat steady beneath my cheek, a sharp contrast to my own shaky breaths. Once again, I’m struck by the contradiction that is Roman Reigns — this man who walks through the world with a cold, untouchable exterior, seemingly indifferent to everything around him. And yet, here he is, holding me with a kind of warmth and protectiveness that feels almost… personal.

We stay like that for a moment, pressed together, my face buried in his chest, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne and the warmth radiating off his skin. Every beat of his heart pulses against mine, each thrum sending small shocks through my entire body. And then, curiosity gets the better of me — a curiosity I’ve tried to bury, one that makes me wonder about every part of him. The way he feels. The taste of his skin. The strength beneath that solid frame…

“Roman?” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

“Yes, baby girl?” he replies, his voice low, steady, as his hand threads gently through my hair, the motion soothing and possessive all at once.

“Kiss me,” I breathe, feeling my pulse spike as the words hang in the air. His hand pauses, his touch suddenly rigid. His dark eyes hold mine, and for a moment, it’s as if he’s at war with himself, his jaw clenched.

“Please,” I add, so softly I’m not sure he even hears it.

He closes his eyes briefly, his expression a mix of desire and hesitation. “You have no idea what you’re asking,” he murmurs, his voice strained.

“But I do,” I insist, my hand moving down to press against his abdomen, feeling the warmth of his skin, the tension beneath it. He lets out a half-laugh, half-groan, his control slipping. My fingers explore the ridges of his toned torso, daringly close.

Then, with a swift motion, he catches my hand, guiding it lower, pressing it firmly into him, and I can feel his response to me, heat radiating, his sheer strength and size beneath my fingers. My breath hitches, heart racing at the forbidden intimacy, at the power I hold in my hand. A low, dangerous growl escapes his parted lips as his fingers tighten around mine.

“Keep doing that,” he murmurs, voice rough with warning, “and you’ll be in a world of trouble.”

"Maybe I like trouble," I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath. Roman’s dark gaze sharpens, and in one swift motion, he pins my wrist against the wall beside me, his grip firm yet controlled. A rush of excitement pulses through me, electric and undeniable.

“Baby girl, we *can’t*—you just passed out cold.” He gestures toward the dock outside, his expression a mix of exasperation and amusement. “For God’s sake, you had a snake wrapping around your leg.”

“And I’m pretty sure anyone would pass out if a snake was slithering up their leg,” I counter, meeting his intense stare with a steady one of my own. His lips curve into a smirk, but his grip doesn’t soften.

“So you’re still here, still asking me to kiss you,” he murmurs, his voice low and edged with something dangerous. “Why is that, baby girl?”

I swallow, a spark of confidence pushing me to answer honestly. “I got… curious. I’ve heard stories about you,” I admit, my words laced with intrigue. “Wondered which ones are true.”

His eyes narrow, just a fraction, but it’s enough to notice. “Stories?” he echoes, leaning in just a little, his breath warm against my cheek.

I nod, nerves twisting inside me as I confess, “People say… you only do it from behind.” I hesitate, my heart pounding. “That you don’t like kissing… or being face-to-face.”

The tension thickens, like a tangible force crackling between us, almost too charged to breathe in. Teasing him feels like playing with fire, yet I’m drawn to it, drawn to him, to the challenge hidden in his stare. His grip on my wrist tightens, just enough to remind me of his strength.

His face softens into something unreadable, but instead of speaking, Roman releases me, stepping back and straightening to his full height, his eyes never leaving mine.

Roman takes a deep breath, his gaze locked on mine, that hint of danger still simmering in his eyes. For a moment, he just stands there, towering over me, his expression unreadable. I wonder if I’ve finally pushed him too far, if maybe my teasing has crossed a line neither of us are ready to admit exists. But I can’t bring myself to look away.

He breaks the silence first, his voice low and controlled. “You think you know me? From stories?” He chuckles darkly, almost to himself, before his gaze sharpens, the intensity of it sending a shiver through me. “Let me make one thing clear, *Y/N* — the truth doesn’t live in rumors. And the truth about me… isn’t gentle.”

I swallow, trying to keep my voice steady. “Maybe that’s what I want to know.”

He tilts his head, assessing me with a level of scrutiny that makes me feel exposed, vulnerable. And then, in one fluid motion, he steps back, the distance feeling almost as charged as his touch. He gestures toward the couch, where the dim city lights outside cast shadows over the room, leaving a private, almost intimate darkness between us.

“Sit,” he says softly, and though there’s nothing overtly commanding in his voice, I can feel the weight of it. I make my way to the couch, his presence close behind, and the moment I sit down, he’s beside me, his gaze steady and piercing.

Without breaking eye contact, he reaches out, fingertips grazing my cheek, the touch deceptively gentle. His thumb brushes along my jaw, his hand trailing down to tilt my chin up. “You want to know the truth?” he asks, his voice soft yet laced with a warning.

“Yes,” I whisper, breathless.

For a moment, he just watches me, his thumb idly tracing my jawline, sending sparks through my skin. Then, he leans in, close enough that I can feel his breath on my lips, the warmth radiating between us. He pauses, his eyes flickering to my mouth and then back up, searching, as if giving me one last chance to pull away.

“Remember, you asked for this,” he murmurs, before his mouth brushes against mine, the faintest touch that leaves me aching for more. When he kisses me fully, there’s nothing hesitant or gentle about it. His hands are in my hair, his body pressing closer, the heat between us undeniable. 

He leans in, pressing his tongue forcefully against my lips, igniting a passionate kiss that consumes us both. I respond eagerly, my own hunger for him matched by the intensity of his kiss. My hand slips down, fingers eagerly exploring, finding the outlines of his cock through the fabric of his pants. A low groan escapes his throat, resonating deep within me, as his hips instinctively thrust forward, seeking more of my touch. 

With a mixture of urgency and tenderness, he rests his forehead against mine, his eyes smoldering with a potent desire that sends shivers down my spine. Slowly, he lowers me to my knees, the world around us fading as our focus narrows solely to each other. 

Roman's fingers deftly unbutton his pants, the sound of the metal clasp breaking the steamy silence between us. He pushes the fabric down just enough to reveal himself, and my eyes widen in surprise and anticipation at the impressive sight before me. The sheer size of him takes my breath away, beautiful and pink, has to be around 9 inches, and I instinctively part my lips.

With a deliberate slowness, he wraps his hand around his length, guiding the head towards my awaiting mouth.

As he stands before me, he takes a deep breath and locks his eyes onto mine. Slowly, he pushes forward, guiding his thick cock past my parted lips. Placing his hands on the back of my head, he tells me, 'Tap my leg if you want out,' while gazing down at me through his darkened eyes and the swaying of his hair. 

I nod in response, indicating my understanding of his instruction. In one swift motion, he thrusts his cock down my throat, taking control of the moment. I yield to him, allowing my tongue to circle his cock as his thrusts become increasingly sloppy. His head falls back, releasing a low, rumbling moan from his chest. His hands grip my hair tightly as his hips quicken their pace, and he begins to growl, 'Fuck... your mouth...' with each thrust punctuated by a sharp breath. Amidst his passionate exclamations, he acknowledges, 'You take it so well, babygirl,' maintaining intense eye contact with me. Tears well up in my eyes, streaming down my face as I continue to meet his gaze.

He pulls his cock out of my mouth and yanks me up by my hair, so I'm standing in front of him. His hands slide down my shirt, gripping the hem and tearing it with one forceful motion. As he steps out of his pants, I hastily pull down mine, revealing both of us in our naked glory. He then grabs my cheeks and pulls me closer, saying, "Oh baby girl, if only you knew," in a teasing tone. I look up at him and plead, "Take me, please."

 In response, he lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist and catching me in a deep kiss. I can feel him getting ready to enter me, and then he pushes me down onto his throbbing cock, making me release a mixture of a deep moan filled with both pain and pleasure, 'Ugh, fuck...' Carrying me to the bedroom, he stops at the edge of the bed and proceeds to fuck me in the air, maintaining intense eye contact with me as I do the same, feeling him thrusting up into me repeatedly. I can feel the drool escaping my mouth, unable to control it as he lays me down on the bed, using one hand to turn me over so that I'm on all fours. 

Gripping my hips, I arch my back, inviting him to dominate me, and he obliges, pushing himself into me with a brutality that I don't resist, longing to feel him so deep that I'd lose myself. He continues to ravish me without holding back, making me forget my own name as he takes me to the brink of ecstasy over and over. An involuntary yelp escapes my mouth when he hits the spot that causes my back to arch, and Roman fists my hair, pulling me upright again. He intensifies his movements, the bed protesting with each thrust, until he finally reaches his peak, filling me with his essence as we both release a primal moan.

 Lying limp on the bed, my legs unable to move and my back aching, he delivers a firm spank to each of my ass cheeks. Leaning over me, he whispers in my ear, teasing, "Did I fuck your brains out, baby girl?" Sex with Roman was unlike anything I'd ever experienced – raw, animalistic, and soul-destroying in the best possible way, shattering every preconceived notion of who I was and molding me into something darker.

I lost myself in him. In sweet, filthy, depraved oblivion.

[romanoffsbish]

I’m Fine 🙂 / Save Me 🙃

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader (Familial / Sisters)

Warnings: Angst w/Bittersweet Ending | Reader Dies | Black Widow / Red Room Canon | Addiction | “Cry for Help”

All she had left was the memory of you. | WC: 1,512

"Do you ever feel like you're all alone in this world?"

Natasha looked up from her laptop quick. "What?"

"Like, no matter how hard you try, no one will ever love or regard you in the same way you do them?"

——

Natasha tried to approach you gently, "Y/N." Yet she wasn't quick enough as you jumped back. "Shut up."

There was a fire in your eyes she hardly recognized, and she took a step back. Looking in your eyes hurt, because you were not the same little girl who used to pick flowers from the garden just for her hair and part of her took blame for that. "Don't try and pretend like you do." If you were a wine you'd be the most bitter. "I don't know why you even keep me around Natasha."

The redhead scoffed bitterly, "because I love you!" It stung to feel the burden in her words—you're hurting yourself just to spite her, but she hurt you first and with the way your mind was racing this made sense.

"Or is it because you feel guilty?" You countered, and hit it on the head as she whispered, "Y/N, please..."

Crushing her the same way she did you the day she left you behind, in a place built to destroy a dreamer like you, in the hands of a man set out to punish you for the mistakes of the woman you loved the most. Ouch.

"Do you think the world would miss me if I vanished?"

"Of cou—." You mindlessly cut her off, words tinged with vitriol, "Of course not. You're the one they'd hold the candlelight vigils for, you'll be on a mural and I'd be the one the stray cats would miss, because just like them I know what it's like to truly have no place."

"Have you been smoking pot?" It reeked the longer she stood closer to you. Then you all but confirmed it as you grew defensive. "Is that all you can ask Natasha?"

Natasha clicked her tongue. "Answer the question."

"Yes," you monotoned, "what does that change?"

"Everything." You grew rather frustrated, "but how?"

“You’re not making any sense,” she tried to reason but you laughed incredulously, “this is the first time in my entire life that I am making complete sense, Natalia.”

"I don't like it when you're like this, sestra."

"I'm always like this." Natasha sighed, "yeah..."

"Yeah?" Natasha nodded shamefully and you couldn't stop the sob from breaking. She hated you.

"Then I won't be anything to you, anymore."

Natasha shot up in a cold sweat, her wife beater tank top sticking to her skin, the words of your last fight still ringing in her head; a cry for help and she was useless.

"Fuck," she hiccuped, her knees pulled to her chest as she sobbed alongside the sky just outside the window. She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes and tried to force the pity she felt for herself away, the grief...

There were so many things she could have said; done.

I don't understand, but I want to; talk to me...

Had she ran after you, would it be different now?

Could've grabbed you by the arm. Don't go. Stay.

I love you more than you could ever know.

Instead she scoffed, 'at least I can finish my paperwork now,' and let you storm out the door without noticing the keys to her brand new jet black Porsche were gone.

Yelena still won't return her calls. Melina and Alexei are beside themselves in a grief harsher than her own. Though she internally wagers that her loss was the greatest, because you were her little widow first...

~-~-~———————-~-~———————-~-~-~

"Natty?" the blue haired girl looked at you with a wide grin, the innocence of the nickname you gave her was endearing and in the same breath, twisted. It was clear to her you didn't remember much of the before. You were four years her junior, so similar to Yelena, this life was honestly all you'd known. "Da, malen'kiy pauk?"

Natasha laughed just as soon as you giggled. It brought her joy to know, that for a while, you could be free of the harsh shackles that awaited you all back home.

"A little girl at school today told me about how in her family, when a person goes away, that they can become something else when they visit." Natasha nearly lost the joy on her face as you curiously approached death. In her mind the hope you held onto was futile, that when you shoot someone between the eyes, they are as good as gone, but she could never destroy you like that.

Instead, she gave life to your wonder, "What would you want to be then, a kitty?" You shook your head and blurted your answer easily, "malen'kiy pauk." The gaps in your teeth only made your smile more endearing, and the redhead opened her arms to you. You launched yourself into your sister's arms and gripped her tight.

"Then I could visit you," you mumbled against her shirt and the natural redhead tensed. The idea of you no longer existing felt unpleasant—her walls crumbled the moment you and Yelena entered her life but this was the first time she'd felt anything excruciating.

"Moya malen'kiy pauk," she chuckled softly so as to not cry instead, she placed a kiss to your cheek then hoped your childlike attention span would change the tune.

Then a familiar jingle sounded and you were scrambling into the house, shrieking for your mom.

Natasha shook her head and walked to the old man who knowingly parked out front of your house. He handed the redhead three ice creams, and a disk.

—————

You stood next to Natasha in the line for lunch, which was just a tasteless tray variety of essential nutrients. It was rule of thumb not to talk in line, but you were never one to follow the rules, and neither was Natasha.

"Are you scared of death?" Natasha frowned. "What?"

"I think a healthy fear for the end is fair, but I'm not losing sleep over the concept. Why do you ask?"

"Because I'm honestly not," you shrugged, stance indifferent but Natasha unfortunately believed you as you went on to say, "just wondering if I'm alone."

"Never with us," Yelena chimed in. "Death is an inevitability, just a matter of the when and how."

It wasn't hard to see to the fear in the blonde's eyes as she kept up her indifferent demeanor. Deep down, Natasha knew she was still that little girl from Ohio, who up until recently called fireflies, forest stars.

—

"I can't believe it," your tone clipped, the warmth you used to greet her with was gone. "I'll be back," she lied without realizing, but you could see it clearly. "Izhets."

(Liar)

"Y/N, I am going to end it once and for all," she hoped you could see the bigger picture, a promised freedom.

"Tozhe tupoy," you chuckled humorlessly. "There is no end, just more opportunities to build up defense."

(Dumb too)

Natasha fell for the American's words of ignorance.

"I love you," she said with certainty before she was one with the shadows, the last piece of your hope gone as it'd been years since you last caught sight of Lena.

~-~-~———————-~-~———————-~-~-~

A loud cry outside the purposely cracked window pulled her from her bittersweet thoughts of you...

Natasha stood beneath the tarp of your balcony, eyes downcast on a gorgeous white cat, paws soiled by the mud she trudged through with her three kittens. The redhead set a plate of food down for her then settled down beside her, towel in hand as she dried her babies.

The light of the moon cast over the kittens, reflecting off their varied fur patterns. A black one meowed, calling to her first among the litter, he hissed softly at the unfamiliar lift but settled fast as she began to dry his fur, pulling off grime and putting him to sleep.

The same occurred with the next boy cat, who was a gorgeous shade of gray, with faint swirls of orange.

Lastly, the smallest of the three, a gorgeous blend of white, brown and orange. She was the most vocal.

A grateful purr came from the mama cat when the redhead moved on to her paws, her eyes fluttered open at the unexpected contact, and when Natasha lifted her own gaze she gasped. With the light now on her face the color of her eyes was clear, a tear streamed down Nat's face without warning. The color and deep feeling of understanding behind them were just so, you.

"Oh my," a subdued laugh left her as she caught sight of something else, she scooped the feline into her lap, and placed a finger on her wet, pink nose in waiting. The blur of black transferred right on over and the woman smiled truly for the first time in eight months. "Dobro pozhalovat' domoy, moy malen'kiy pauk."

(Welcome home, my little spider)

[n1ght0f-nyx]

woven bonds pt 3

pert'ah x fem reader

over the last few weeks of living with your arranged orc husband, you start to grow comfortable with him, curious about his culture

tags/warnings- arranged marriage, human female x male orc, gentle giant, your starting to develop feelings for big man

also feel free to request non-woven bonds related things that involve pert'ah or my other ocs (see my masterlist) i love writing for all these characters and seeing the mass of support ive gotten over the last month!

word count-1471

The forest around Pert'ah’s hut had started to feel familiar to you. The once oppressive canopy of trees, with their towering trunks and rustling leaves, now seemed to whisper secrets of their own, ancient and comforting. You spent more time outside, watching the way the sunlight filtered through the branches, how the world around you moved with a calm rhythm that you were only now starting to understand.

Pert'ah, as usual, worked diligently nearby, his large hands carefully guiding a bundle of thread through the wooden loom. The patterns he wove—so intricate, so delicate—fascinated you. Though you had watched him for weeks now, there was something different about the way you felt today. The walls you had built inside yourself, those walls of anger and sorrow, were beginning to erode. In their place was curiosity.

You found yourself wondering how he could create such beauty with hands that looked like they were made for something else entirely. You wondered about him, about his past, about the life he lived before you were forced into this arranged marriage. The thought of learning more made your heart beat a little faster.

Gathering your courage, you stepped closer to him.

“Pert’ah?” you asked quietly, watching as his broad shoulders tensed for just a second before he turned to look at you, his deep-set eyes widening slightly in surprise. You weren’t sure you had ever spoken his name with such softness before.

“Yes, [Name]?” he responded, his voice calm but filled with the kind of hope that made your chest tighten. His hands paused on the loom, waiting for what you had to say.

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded toward the weaving. “Can you… can you teach me how to do that?”

For a brief moment, you worried that maybe your question was too sudden, that he wouldn’t want to share something so personal. But the way Pert’ah’s face lit up erased all your doubts. His smile was wide, his tusks just barely showing as his eyes softened with warmth.

“You want to learn?” he asked, his voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and joy. He quickly stood up, brushing his hands on his simple tunic as if trying to prepare himself. “I teach! Yes, yes. Come sit.”

You moved to sit beside him, feeling a little self-conscious at first. His hands, so much larger than yours, gently guided your fingers to the loom, showing you how to thread the yarn through with care. He spoke softly, explaining the different colors and patterns orcs used, and how each design had a meaning tied to it—family, nature, strength. You could hear the pride in his voice as he spoke of orc culture, and for the first time, you didn’t feel the same resistance you once had.

As you worked together, your hands moving awkwardly through the motions he showed you, you found yourself laughing at your mistakes. Pert’ah chuckled beside you, his deep laugh resonating in your chest like a low rumble. There was no judgment in his gaze, only patience.

“You do good,” he said, nodding in approval as you finally managed to weave a few rows without getting tangled in the threads. “Better than first time I try.”

You grinned, feeling a strange sense of pride in his praise. “Thank you,” you said quietly, meeting his eyes. “I didn’t know weaving could be so… peaceful.”

He nodded. “It is. Make me feel calm. Like world slow down when I work. Orcs… we no always fight. We build. We make.”

You found yourself wanting to know more. The orcs had always been painted as brutish, war-hungry creatures in your world, but everything about Pert’ah contradicted that. He was an artist, a craftsman.

“Is that why you became a weaver?” you asked, genuinely curious now. “Because it brings you peace?”

Pert'ah tilted his head, thinking for a moment before nodding. “Yes. My father, he was warrior. Wanted me to fight too. But I no like it.” He glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if remembering something. “I not good at hurting. I better at making things. I want to create, not destroy. So I leave fighting. I make my own path.”

There was something in the way he said that, a quiet strength, that resonated with you. He had chosen to go against the expectations of his people, to find his own place in the world, and that took a kind of bravery you hadn’t expected from him.

You found yourself smiling again, a small, genuine smile. “I think that’s… admirable,” you said softly, feeling warmth spread through your chest as you spoke. “You’ve built something beautiful here.”

Pert’ah’s eyes flickered with surprise at your words, and for a moment, you thought he might not know how to respond. But then, his expression softened, and he looked at you as though you had just given him a gift.

“I glad you see,” he said quietly, his voice full of emotion. “I make it for us. For you.”

There was something in his gaze—something so tender and full of hope—that made you feel a strange flutter in your chest. You had seen that look before, but now, it didn’t make you uncomfortable. In fact, it made you feel… safe.

The days that followed were filled with quiet moments like this. You and Pert’ah spent more time together, talking, learning about each other in a way that felt natural. You asked him about his art, about orc traditions and stories, and he answered each question with a kind of reverence, as though he cherished the opportunity to share these things with you. And the more you learned, the more you realized how wrong your people had been about the orcs.

They weren’t savages. They had a rich culture, full of art and history. Pert’ah had once shown you a collection of his tapestries—each one telling a different story of orc ancestors, their triumphs and losses. You could see how much pride he took in preserving these traditions, and it made you want to learn more.

One afternoon, as you both sat by the fire, you found yourself asking a question you hadn’t dared to before.

“Pert’ah… why did you agree to this marriage?” you asked, your voice hesitant. “Why me?”

Pert’ah looked at you, his eyes softening as he considered your question. He was silent for a moment, then he sighed deeply.

“I no want you be sold,” he said, his voice low and serious. “I no think it right. But when your father come… he say it bring peace between our people. I think… maybe, if we together, we no have to fight anymore. Maybe we find way to live better.”

He paused, his gaze lowering to the fire. “But more than that… I see you. When I first meet you, I see sadness in your eyes. I think maybe… I can make it go away. I want make you happy.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for the first time, you felt a deep ache in your chest—not from anger or resentment, but from something else. You realized then that Pert’ah hadn’t just seen you as a human, as someone different from him. He had seen you as a person, someone who was hurting, and he had wanted to help.

Slowly, you reached out and placed your hand on his, your fingers gently brushing against his rough skin. He looked up at you, surprise flashing across his face, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand turned, his fingers curling gently around yours.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “For everything.”

Pert’ah’s grip tightened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “You no need thank me,” he murmured. “I do because… I care for you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell, and for the first time since your marriage, you felt a real connection between the two of you—a bond that had nothing to do with politics or peace treaties. It was something deeper, something real.

As the fire crackled beside you, you found yourself leaning just a little closer to him, your head resting against his shoulder. He stiffened for a moment, as if unsure of what to do, but then he relaxed, his arm gently wrapping around you in a way that felt natural, protective.

In that moment, you knew you were falling for him. You weren’t just coming out of your shell—you were opening your heart. And with each passing day, you found it easier to see Pert’ah not as the orc you had been forced to marry, but as the man who had shown you kindness, patience, and a love that was growing stronger with every beat of his heart.

And you were ready to let that love in.

[lets-try-some-writing]

A Brother In Need

A gift for @nova--spark and a partial continuation of this post by her (ft. my fic blurb for it).

Sometimes, when things are dire, the Matrix can tear through the very walls between worlds. It can call out to others, summoning Primes to aid a brother in need.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Optimus grunted as another shot scorched his armor. The upgrades he’d received were doing nothing against the raging force of nature that was Megatron. A jetpack was useless against a forged flyer. The Magnus hammer, which he’d not so quietly borrowed, was doing slag all do deter his foe.

Being taken prisoner had done nothing to calm Megatron or make him less of a deadly opponent. With Ultra Magnus out of commission, all Optimus could do was try to buy time while the Autobots got themselves organized. The battle had already raged for almost five minutes, a near eternity for Optimus, who, as much as he hated to admit it, was certainly not built for war. He could only hold off for so long, and with no allies en route, he was essentially a sitting duck.

Every dodged attack slowed him down. Each hit he managed to land seemed to bounce right off of the warlord. Even with the Allspark resting within its casing around his neck, providing him with energy he sorely needed, he was still losing. Bit by bit, he was pushed back closer toward civilian regions. It had never gotten this bad, not even on Earth.

“Foolish Prime. You will learn the meaning of suffering for daring to put me in chains.” Megatron flew at him yet again, and all Optimus could do was struggle to keep his frame from overheating as he forced himself to dodge. Unfortunately, Megatron was faster, hitting his jetpack with a well timed strike and finally sending him careening toward the ground. Optimus adjusted mid-fall, slowing his descent and landing on his pedes. However, as he attempted to get back into the skies in the hopes that it would limit civilian casualties, his jetpack failed to function. It puttered uselessly against his back, reminding Optimus again of just how dire things really were.

“I’m not going down without taking you with me!” He taunted his foe, running as far away from housing districts as possible. The Allspark weighed heavily around his neck, thrumming with strange energy he did not understand. It did little to aid him, but its glow reminded Optimus of what he was fighting for. 

Megatron could not win. Not while Optimus still functioned.

“I will strip you of your armor, one plate at a time!” Megatron roared in outrage, landing with a thunderous crash that left Optimus reeling. He clutched the Magnus hammer, not letting himself focus on the faint tremor of his digits as he raised the weapon high. He checked his comms, frantically letting his optics flicker around the area in hopes that someone, anyone, would come to his aid.

He saw and heard nothing. No one was coming. He was alone.

“I’d like to see you try.” He could sense the stress warnings for his servos running across his vision, but Optimus dismissed them. He needed to keep fighting, to buy more time for Sentinel to get things in order as acting Magnus. He doubted his former friend would actually aid him, but if Optimus could do something to give the Autobots a chance, then he would gladly put his life on the line yet again.

He took a deep vent, the world slowing around him as Megatron unsheathed his blade and leapt forward. Optimus distinctly recalled wondering if there would be anything left of his frame once the battle was done as the warlord’s blade met his hammer. 

The shock rattled his entire frame, knocking his shoulder from its socket. He didn’t have time to cry out in pain before he was forced to try and block another hit, then another, and another. He tried to fight back, but every time he tried to land an attack, Megatron’s blade cut through his armor like it was made of tinfoil. He was covered in gashes, each burning as they bled. He stumbled, trying to keep his balance as Megatron smiled, stalking forward and pushing Optimus up against a wall. 

“This is what happens when you play soldier, Optimus Prime. Now, you will die like the disposable pawn you are.” Optimus spit up energon, coughing as he clutched a particularly deep wound with one servo. The Magnus hammer was held weakly up in front of him, his entire arm shaking from the effort as he prepared to block. Part of him hoped that his team would arrive and save his sorry aft. The rest of him was praying for a decently quick and honorable end, perhaps a blaster shot to the spark.

Unfortunately for him, Megatron had other plans.

The warlord swung his blade, sending the Magnus hammer flying away from Optimus’s grasp. He cursed, getting into a combat position despite how battered and tired he was. His vents were flared wide, his fans running on their highest setting as he panted and tried to play hero. Everything ached and burned, his vision flickering from energon loss. But he was not given a chance to even try to preserve his honor as the hilt of Megatron’s blade collided with his helm, knocking him to the ground.

He cried out in pain, no longer able to stifle the agony of his failing frame. He heard Megatron laugh as a kick landed on his abdomen, sending Optimus flying against the wall behind him and leaving him to purge what little he had in his tanks before coughing up energon that had to have come from something internal being ruptured. 

He shook in terror that he could no longer mask as the warlord loomed above him, his towering frame now no longer anything close to the storybook villain Optimus had come to know. He prayed for salvation as Megatron took his time, hitting him again and again and kicking him around like some sort of training dummy. Every hit broke something else, shattering plating or snapping components that were likely vital. 

Optimus tried to be brave. He tried to keep being snarky, if only to buy time. But as he lay utterly beaten amidst the rubble of their battleground, he could only cry while pulling himself into a sitting position. There was nothing he could do now except try to die with a small iota of dignity. 

“Ratchet, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Sari… I’m sorry I won’t be coming back to all of you.” A choked sob broke through his tortured venting. As Megatron cackled, Optimus touched the container the Allspark still sat within. He prayed in silence, hoping that the phenomenon that gave him life would heed his quiet plea. 

He wasn’t religious. He had no god to worship as the humans did. But he still hoped… that maybe, somehow, the thing that made him would have mercy on his spark.

“Goodbye, Prime.” Megatron’s blaster powered on, sickening purple and flooding Optimus’s vision as he raised his helm in one final act of defiance. If he were to fall, he was going to do so, looking death in the optic. He would not cower, not even in his final moments.

He stared down the blaster barrel, uncaring of how it made his optics flicker due to the brightness. But as he watched his death come closer, he felt warmth emanate from the container around his neck. He dared not look away from Megatron, but as blue light began to drown out the purple, Optimus could only gasp in awe at what occurred mere nano-kliks later.

A shot fired, but it was not Megatron’s blaster putting Optimus six feet under. Instead, bright blue energy impacted Megatron’s armor, scorching his seemingly untouchable plating and earning a cry from the warlord. Optimus gawked, his agony momentarily forgotten as he followed the source of the shot, his optics setting on a figure that towered over even Megatron.

A faint blue figure flickered in and out of existence, becoming more solid with every passing moment. Optimus’s optics widened as the mech stepped forward, his frame setting into reality as he held his arm up, the limb having transformed into a blaster without so much as a klik of hesitation. He stood proudly, his armor battered and scarred but still strong. His shoulders were sharp, and an autobot badge stood out clearly amidst the scratches and dents. His legs were long and built for combat; his waist was thin but his torso was heavily armored. A crack ran along his windshields, but it seemed to mean nothing for the mech who stood so powerfully on the battlefield.

Optimus watched in complete awe as the mech stalked forward, a battlemask firmly in place on his face as he fired shot after shot at Megatron. With grace that Optimus had never seen in anyone before, the mech strode forward, breaking into a steady run as his arms turned from guns to blades. In an instant, the mech, who looked so much like Optimus in color and overall design, met Megatron in combat. Their blades sparked, their grunts of exertion echoed across the battlefield.

Megatron tried to push back, but the mech was swift with his blades, cutting through Megatron’s defenses and slashing his armor clean open with rapid movements. Megatron stumbled back, screaming a curse in a language Optimus did not know. The mech, his counterpart, responded in kind with a quick kick to the chassis, sending the warlord sprawling after a pitifully short fight. It seemed that despite his failure to bring down his foe, Optimus had indeed tired him enough so that his counterpart had little issue bringing him to his knees.

A smug part of his spark flared in glee at the revelation.

“Serves you right, you glitch.” He raised a middle finger in Megatron’s direction as Autobots finally appeared in the distance. His counterpart knocked Megatron upside the helm, forcing the Decepticon leader into temporary recharge. Then, without a second thought, he came to kneel before Optimus, his battlemask slipping away.

“I apologize for failing to assist you sooner, little brother. The call of the Matrix can be slow at times.” Optimus carefully reset his optics, but the scene did not change as his counterpart tenderly picked him up as if he were but a newbuild. The Allspark pulsed against his chassis in response.

“It seems your reality has different rules than mine, but you need not fear. We are one and the same, merely separated by time and a barrier between worlds.” The other mech, the other Optimus, smiled in a soft manner before holding Optimus close. He coughed weakly, the pain slowly overwhelming his senses as his counterpart held him close. He wanted to speak, to ask who this mech really was.

But he found his questions answered as the other Optimus carried him to his team, passing him off to a very worried Ratchet. He stared, still in shock, as the other Prime began to flicker and fade, his existence starting to vanish like smoke.

“Rest well, young Prime. May Primus light your path.” With those final words, the other Prime disappeared as if he’d never been there in the first place. Megatron was bound and carted off, Ratchet strapped him to a gurney and rushed to get him hooked up to an IV. All the while, Optimus stared up at the sky uselessly.

He didn’t know how or why, but through the thing that hung around his neck, Optimus had been saved by another version of himself. A mech who carried his name, his burden, and his rank.

He’d had his life preserved by a brother.

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 2

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, Mentions of drugs, mentions of court

Sunday came and went in a blur of textbooks, highlighters, and coffee that had turned cold by the time I got round to drinking it. I spent the entire day curled up in my apartment, buried in law casebooks and lecture notes, trying to chip away at the mountain of assignments that had built up over the week. Law school had a way of piling things on without warning, and it was tough to stay on top of everything.

But, despite all the reading and studying, my mind kept drifting to Chris. That stupid accidental like on his Instagram post had spun me for a loop, and no matter how much I tried to push it out of my head, it kept creeping back in. The embarrassment was almost unbearable. Why did it bother me so much? I’d accidentally liked posts before, and it never affected me like this. But this was different. This was him.

Chris Sturniolo, the boy who had practically disappeared from my life without a word. He had just faded away, like a distant memory. And now, years later, I was reminded of him, suddenly thinking about him more than I had any right to. Maybe it was the nostalgia, or maybe it was the curiosity of what had happened to him. Either way, I needed to think about what I had in front of me.

By the end of the night, I was no closer to finishing my assignments, but I had at least made some progress. I pushed my laptop aside and let out a sigh, staring at the ceiling of my room. Tomorrow would be a new day, and I had more important things to focus on, like sitting in on a real courtroom session for class. I needed to be sharp and professional, not distracted by old crushes and awkward social media moments.

I passed out somewhere around 1am, and before I knew it, my alarm was going off and I was dressed and heading out the door, ready to make my way to the Boston Municipal Court. The air was crisp, the chill of fall settling in as I walked through the city streets. My nerves were kicking in, not just because of the courtroom experience I was about to witness, but because of the burning feeling that something was about to shift. I couldn't explain it, but I put it down to anxiety about the court case, how I could see someone's life trajectory change in a matter of moments.

I arrived at the courthouse, its towering stone facade looming over me as I approached. It felt both intimidating and exciting, like I was about to step into a new chapter of my life. This courtroom session was an essential part of my course, and would be continuous over this school year - a real life experience to get a feel for how things worked in the legal world. I was supposed to be focused on the case, taking notes, observing the process, everything a future lawyer would need to know.

But as I stepped inside and found a seat toward the back of the courtroom, my thoughts kept drifting. I couldn't shake Chris from my mind. Why now? Why was he coming up in my thoughts so much? We hadn’t spoken in years, and yet here I was, obsessing over an accidental like on his ghostly Instagram account. It didn’t make any sense. I had so much more to worry about, but the memory of him kept pulling me away from the present.

The courtroom slowly filled with people, lawyers and clerks coming in and out, papers shuffling, the judge already seated high above. I forced myself to sit up straighter, grabbing my notepad and pen, determined to focus. This was important. I couldn’t afford to be distracted.

“The court is now in session” the judge’s voice boomed, commanding attention.

I scribbled the date at the top of my notepad, trying to look engaged, but my thoughts wandered again. Stop it Y/n. 

The prosecutor began introducing the case. My pen hovered over the notepad as I half listened, already feeling my focus slip away. Something about possession, conspiracy to sell, it all sounded so dry compared to the whirlwind going on in my head.

But then, the prosecutor said something that yanked me out of my thoughts.

“The defendant, Mr. Nathan Doe—”

My heart nearly stopped.

What?

I blinked, my brain struggling to process what I’d just heard. Nathan Doe? There was no way.

I snapped my head up, my eyes wide as they locked onto the judge. My pulse quickened. Could it really be him? Nate Doe, the guy same guy that was only mentioned just the other night. Chris’s best friend.

I looked around the courtroom, my stomach twisting. It had to be a coincidence, right? But I’ve never met another Nathan Doe.

The judge continued, outlining the charges: too much weed, conspiracy to sell, and smoking in public. It wasn’t the most serious of offences, but still enough to land Nate in front of a judge. And now that I was really listening, I knew, this was him. This was Chris’s Nate, standing trial for a drug charge.

I sat back in my seat, completely thrown off. What were the odds? It felt like the universe was pulling me into something, something I wasn’t prepared for.

The case moved forward quickly. The prosecutor outlined the details: Nate had been caught late at night with a sizable amount of weed on him, enough to raise suspicion of intent to sell. There had been rumours he was involved in something bigger - something connected to the ongoing gang feud between the Crimson Cartel and another gang. But those rumours had been dismissed, simply because they’re hear say. Nate was just a guy caught with too much weed, nothing more.

I let out a breath. At least it wasn’t anything more serious. Nate had messed up, sure, but it didn’t seem like his life was about to be ruined over this.

The judge leaned back, considering the case for a moment. The room was quiet, tension hanging in the air. Then, finally, the judge gave his ruling.

“Nathan Doe, you are hereby ordered to make a charitable donation of $2,000 and to complete 50 hours of community service. Additionally, you are expected to refrain from any drug related activities for the next 12 months. Any violation of this order will result in harsher consequences.”

I sat there in stunned silence as the courtroom began to stir, people packing up their papers and preparing to leave. Nate had gotten off pretty lightly, all things considered. No jail time, no heavy fines, just a slap on the wrist and some community service. He’d been lucky.

The judge adjourned the court, and I stood, gathering my things. I was still processing everything when I saw it.

The back of a head, messy brown hair standing out among the sea of people leaving the courtroom.

Chris.

I blinked, certain I was imagining it, but there was no mistaking it. The same messy brown hair, slightly longer than I remembered, and the familiar dishevelled style. He was standing just a few rows ahead of me, getting up to leave as casually as if this were just another day for him.

My heart pounded against my chest, my mind racing to process the sight. He was here.

The courtroom felt like it had shrunk in size, the walls closing in as my vision narrowed on him. Chris, the boy who had vanished from my life all those years ago, was standing a few feet away. Older now, but still unmistakably him. He was taller, more solid, but the sight of him sent a jolt of electricity through me. How could this be happening? The rush of memories collided with the reality of the moment, the image of him, a person I never thought I’d see again, suddenly thrust back into my life.

And my god, he was still just as good looking. Maybe even more so. His face had matured, the angles sharper, and there was a quiet intensity in the way he carried himself now. Gone was the boyish charm, replaced by something darker, more serious.

I swallowed hard, my hands trembling slightly as I tried to keep it together. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. What were the odds? First Nate, now Chris? My mind raced, panic setting in. Should I say something? Should I call out to him? No what the fuck would I be doing yelling in a court room. Oh my god he definitely knows I was stalking him too. Maybe I should just avoid him. The idea made my stomach churn, the second hand embarrassment from the accidental Instagram like still fresh in my mind. my mind screamed. I’d tried to play it cool, but there was no undoing that little heart popping up on his post. Maybe he hadn’t noticed?

God, I hoped not.

Just avoid him. 

That seemed like the best idea right now. Avoid him and get out of here before I did something stupid or said something even worse. But as much as I told myself to leave, my feet wouldn’t listen. My eyes were locked on him, glued to the sight of him moving through the aisle, his head slightly lowered as he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets.

I tried to snap out of it, to move, but the weight of my thoughts held me back. It was like seeing a ghost, someone I had long thought was buried in the past. But here he was, alive and real, and my heart didn’t know how to handle it.

As he neared the doors of the courtroom, my body finally kicked into gear. I shuffled down the aisle, clutching my things tightly and keeping my gaze low, hoping I could sneak out without running into him. Just keep your head down, Y/n.

I had just made it into the hallway when I felt a presence beside me. My heart skipped a beat as I glanced sideways, and there he was. Chris.

No, no, no.

His eyes caught mine before I could look away. Shit.

“Y/n?” His voice was deeper than I remembered, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

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[iaure]

𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔶; 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢

𝖞𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖒𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖊𝖑 𝖔❜𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2: 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔰, 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 3: 𝔦 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔨, 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 4: 𝔰𝔞𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 CW: self-awareness, stalking, obsession, delusion, ptsd, mention of a brother's death, thoughts of kidnapping. Written in the third person. Use of Y/N. Spoilers for Spider-Man: Across The Spiderverse.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ heaven have mercy on my simple soul. we might have another dearest series on our hands, but for miguel. god. jesus. i made this in one (1) day. it's two am.

wc: 1.7k

𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀𝗻❜𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗱𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗮𝗿𝗺𝘀.

Miguel knew that feeling all too well. Gabriella faded away in his arms, a flash of technicolour and geometric shapes. An entire world, falling away and escaping from him, like grains of glass as fine as sand but still so colourful. That's what kept him moving. He never wanted someone to make the same mistake. But he was only a man. he couldn't be alone in the isolation of his own making forever. He built up those walls, praying he'd have the sense to never knock them down. But brick by brick, other people did. First was Jess. She was his friend, his sister in arms. Then Peter, then a thousand other faces and names and hearts and morals and everything that made Spider-Man, Spider-Man. They each took a brick, as though it was nothing. It was just by pure chance that she was the one to take that last brick. She was a new addition. Friendly, witty, quick on her feet. Just like everyone else. Another Spider in another place and another time. Another in a million, another clone, another warm body as fodder. But when Jess brought her to him, Miguel knew; she was one in a trillion.

She had stood next to Jess, firm, with a thousand yard stare like she'd been digging around Miguel's soul and yanking out her favourite bruises. Harrowing was a good word for it. Her estranged brother, a captain in the police, had died. She looked like she'd seen Hell. Fresh bruises, scarring, her suit torn in some places...and she stood tall.

"Spider-Woman, from Earth 7290. Also known as Y/N."

Jess spoke softly, a hand on Y/N's shoulder. Her breathing was steady but her eyes had glazed over, completely tapped out to the situation. Miguel felt his heart tug. He knew what it was like. Everyone did. Most Spiders were sad, upset, but she simply seemed...angry. Furious, even. Like if Miguel made a move towards her, she'd chew him up and spit him out. He'd seen people try to tame horses before, ones that would buck and kick and neigh until someone's leg was broken. It was like Jess was doing that. The one hand on Y/N's shoulder, keeping her in place.

"Miguel?" Jess spoke up, and he came out of his haze. "Are you listening?" "Yeah." He nodded, quietly clearing his throat. "Sure. Get her a watch." Jess shared a look with Y/N, one that he couldn't quite tell the reasoning behind, but the glance of her eyes was enough.

Spider-Woman of Earth 7290 took the last brick.

He'd see Y/N around, walking around the Spider Society and speaking with other Spiders. She seemed to hold that anger close to her heart, despite the other Spiders telling her that it'd get better over time. They'd healed, or got over it, or pushed it out of their mind. But not Y/N. She stayed mad. She stayed angry. Miguel understood that more than most. Mourning took time. So many had gotten over it after years. It wasn't fair to expect Y/N get it over it so fast. He didn't think so, anyway. After all, it was an anomaly that took her brother's life. A mistake. It had fallen off the proverbial map, but according to Jess, Y/N had 'handled it her own way'. Whatever that meant. Miguel didn't really care. All he worried about was her. Rather than just taking the brick off his walls, she smashed it in with a hammer and ran it over with a bulldozer. She had a wrecking ball to smash a single blue and red brick. And he hated it. Because what about Gabriella? What about his wife? Did their deaths mean nothing now? And how was this healthy? Granted, Miguel wasn't a healthy person. Not like that. But the sudden way his mind dedicated himself to her was absurd. Did it have to do with his DNA? With the spider mutation? Rapture? Mating season? There had to be an explanation. A cure.

But there was none.

Now, Miguel's mind was rotting away. He wished he could pry it open and take to it with tweezers, to prod out the parts that he hated. But his eyes lingered on you for a moment too long, and he knew he didn't stand much of a chance anymore. It was all Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. Even just the faint, passing scent of her was enough to drive him up a wall that very much shouldn't exist. Passing word of her wellbeing made him tune into conversations he was never part of. He began to develop a seventh sense: touch, hearing. sight, smell, taste, spidersense, and Y/Nsense.-the uncanny ability to know when she needed help. Trademarked, owned by Miguel O'Hara exclusively. Peter once teased him about how Miguel would suddenly jump up and scoot over to the cameras, checking in on Spider-Woman 7290.

The teasing didn't last long when given way to the severity of the situation.

Gradually, Miguel leaned into it. If he couldn't fight it, then join it. Revel in it. Let his eyes linger on her frame. Let his waking hours resort to thinking of her. Let him suffer. He deserved it. He began to follow Y/N around. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And sometimes, Miguel would see enemies-a Vulture here, a Doc Ock there-and he'd help when she wasn't looking. Little favours here and there began cropping up. Getting her groceries. Taking care of her cat. Fiddling with the gas for the car of the one creep that kept following her around that was so sure she was Spider-Woman. Granted, the creep was right. But he didn't know that.

(He did. Love comes in many shapes and forms.)

Y/N never seemed to notice. She was off, battling her own demons and fighting the good fight in her own world. She was good and kind and still angry but she used that anger so well, and Miguel loved her for it. She burned with the anger of a thousand dying stars. She was everything. When Y/N would stop by the Spider Society, Miguel made sure to look good. Brush his hair, brush his fangs, make sure his eye bags weren't too obvious, or if they were, then they looked good. He was trying to get her to like him, after all. Check to make sure his suit didn't have any tears or holes. Because Y/N was gorgeous. She could drag herself in with her guts spilling out like roadkill and he'd still think she's the most beautiful thing to grace the multiverse.

The beauty of delusion, he supposed.

He was aware how delusional this was. He knew how absurd it was that he saw her and fell immediately. Was this what happened in fairy tales? Is this what Prince Charming felt when he saw Cinderella? The world completely spinning the moment there's even a hint of her? The complete dedication of his heart to this woman that barely acknowledged him...someone who would only glance his way if it was a requirement. Y/N was cordial to him, but little more. And it made his heart ache. She spoke to Jess more than she spoke to him. It felt wrong. It felt cruel, like a tease, trailing up and down his spine but never providing relief. One word to him was ten to Jess.

Miguel refuses to admit it, to accept that he was willing to stoop so low. But there was a brief moment where he thought about hurting Jess. Or getting her on some mission that would take forever. Breaking her bracelet when she least expected it so Y/N would have to come to him.

He'd never act on it. He was sure of that.

If there was one thing Miguel was proud of for himself, it was his restraint. He had the unparalleled ability to simply...hold off. Another day, he'd tell himself. Next time, he'd self-assure. Then another next time. Then another. Until heaven knows how many next times it's been, and he's aching for her to even look at him, but why won't she glance his way? Why was she so cold? He's done everything he could. Just look at him! For god's sake, just fucking look at him! That's all he wanted! Five minutes with your eyes on him, your undivided attention.

But no. Another day, he said. Next time.

But maybe he could simply...take Y/N away. Her world was inconsequential. It'd be easy to take care of any villains. He'd do it for her, single-handedly. She were everything. He could just keep her there, in his office, never allowed to leave. He could come back after a long mission to her loving arms, her warm embrace, flush to flush to flush to flush. He'd do unspeakable things just for her to trace the vague outline of his body with her eyes. If Y/N told him to kill, he'd do so without question anymore. Miguel barely had any control over himself.

The next time he saw her, it was while dealing with Miles. It was so much, all at once and never at all and undying and swarming his senses. It was so much that he didn't realise how much she'd been smiling at the two teenagers, how sweet her gaze got, the gentle touches and warm laughter and how Gwen and Miles looked up to her.

He didn't know Y/N had a soft spot for kids. And he found out most vividly when she was the first one to help Miles escape, blocking off what must've felt like half of the Spider Society with the same undying rage, now spent on protecting her new friend, the child she called such sweet things. That she saw as her own.

Miguel felt his heart shatter when he had to take her down. The way she fell into the floor, limp and dangling like she was nothing more than occupied space. His heart was wounded, wailing like a dying dog. She picked the newcomer, the anomaly, over him. Him, her one true love. Did it matter that she'd known it yet? No. It only mattered that she helped Miles escape.

Lord, he thought. I worry that love is violence.

[sublimetragedychopshop]

I’m a sucker for pretty yan x monster darling. Like this person is thought to be the PERSONIFICATION of beauty. Nations come to catch a glimpse of them. They most likely have a cult dedicated to them too which would explain why anyone that makes them unhappy is “punished” (humiliated, tortured and cast out). They probably know the power they hold too! Or maybe they don’t!

Beauty! Yan that could fall in love with LITERALLY any one in the WHOLE world. Only for them to skip the whole way home and write in their diary, about their big fat crush on MONSTER! Darling. Hearts and hearts and hearts. Combinations of mixed names that has both of yours together. (They probably had to lurk around a lot to find out your name, people like to call you mean names which took them a while) a full entire chapter of BABY NAMES! Detailed descriptions of their lewdest fantasies, enough to make even a nymph blush. They already seemed to have gone through 20 diaries since they met you. Its okay! They have enough money to buy more, and usually people offer to by their stuff for them.

Monster! Reader who is described, by others as a “big, mean, ugly thing”. Really you were quite good looking for your species (if you said so yourself, and asked the Yan) you are too big to fit inside a normal house, almost 5” feet bigger than the tallest man in the world. Your body is built like a fucking mountain, strength to the GODS. Though people may not like you, your strength does get you a lot of jobs so that you can earn money.

I don’t have enough brain juice to describe how you met this protected beauty, but you got them hooked! Really, it is kind of funny. Most likely monster reader doesn’t even want to associate themselves with them. It only brings trouble. And death. They’ve seen it and don’t wanna be near them. And we’ll as much as pretty! Yan wants to be around you, they know that if they do people might harm you (they already get sad and depressed if you get hurt on the job) so they have to stalk you from a yard away. Kinda hard when the whole town had their eyes on you. I can imagine the only way they would stalk you is if you live in a house in your own little isolated part of the woods. They know the trail by heart and even come inside when your away. They caress your trinkets and self made goods, admire every single one of your decorations, lay on your oversized bed that is the biggest and comfiest thing they’ve felt and seen. Your scent clouding their senses that they can’t help but masturbate on your bed. It tips them over the edge. And they don’t even try to hide it. Thinking that you don’t even notice it (you do, your senses higher than a humans) and just go on with their little role play in their head. Thinking to themselves as if they were your lovely little spouse that waits home for you everyday. They clean and wash all your clothes (they want to cook but the sizes of the ingredients are way too big for their small arms).

Really they are the perfect spouse for you! Being raised to perfection they would be the perfect spouse for anyone! Too bad they’ll get rid of anyone who gets in the way of their happily ever after…

(I might edit or add more later honestly I’ve just been wanting to post this for a while)

[eddiesxangel]

Take Me to the Lakes | E.M x reader part 5/6

Summary: This summer was supposed to be the summer to work at your favourite place in the world with your best friend. But things take a turn when it isn’t your best friend you end up working with.

Master list

cw: angst, dirty smut and more angst. 3.9k words

You’ve been grappling with yourself for days. The emotional turmoil is akin to a never-ending struggle. You are torn between two opposing forces—one driven by love, passion and desire to be with Eddie while the other grounded in reality. You know that leaving this idyllic bubble of happiness will mean facing the challenges and complexities of real life, which is causing you mental and emotional anguish.

You do, in fact, love Eddie. You have ever since you laid eyes on him. Even back then, pure infatuation turned into lust, which in turn made you fall in love with him all the same. This makes this decision that much more difficult to swallow. Your pride and reputation meant everything to you, but how could your two worlds coexist? 

You played along, pretending to ignore your worries when you were around Eddie. You wanted to take advantage of all the time you had left before summer ended. Only a few more weeks, time was running out, yet it stood still when you were with Eddie. Eddie made you feel safe and wanted. Eddie makes you feel alive and free. You always felt a sense of calm whenever you were with Eddie. There was something about him that made you feel like you could be your true self around him without any fear of judgment. You never had to put on a façade or pretend to be someone you're not. 

Eddie was your well-needed reminder that you don't have to be perfect to be loved and accepted. He appreciated you for who you were, flaws and all. Being with him was a source of comfort and reassurance you could always count on.

No matter how much you try to push it away, that little warning bell in your mind keeps ringing. It reminds you of all the things that could go wrong. It's like a constant companion that never leaves your side, always lurking in the back of your mind. 

The fear of the unknown was overwhelming and paralyzing at times, especially at night when you were alone with your thoughts, making you feel helpless and trapped.

With Eddie, you felt like you could let your guard down and be yourself. Eddie was also judged and tried; he was nothing of the man everyone blamed him for being, but you were only you; you couldn’t make the town see him for who he truly was. Or maybe you could? But the burden would be too much, ruining the status you’ve built up your whole life. Was it worth the risk? You know Eddie would risk it all for you, but deep down, you wouldn’t be able to do it for him…

—

Today, you were on Field duty with Robin, Ashton and Eddie. Not much had happened besides the four of you supervising the soccer game between your groups. So when you and Eddie asked them to cover for you for about twenty minutes, they reluctantly agreed. 

You and Eddie snuck off to the barn because you were running out of places to have sex. The cabin was mysteriously boarded up the last time you tried sneaking off, so you needed to get creative. 

“You’re always so horny” You giggle as he grabs your ass.

“It’s not that I’m horny…you’re just that sexy, I can’t help myself.” 

“Shut up and kiss me,” You giggle. 

Eddie presses you up against the raw wooded planks of the barn wall. It was stuffy and hot in there, but you only cared about Eddie. Eddie made you feel alive, wanted, and protected. You wanted him to feel the same. All thoughts are thrown out the window. You don’t worry about getting caught; you don’t worry about life after camp; your entire being is absorbed by thoughts of Eddie.

“I want you in my mouth.” You moan as Eddie kisses you deeply. You’ve made it to the barn and pulled him into a dark corner. 

“You wanna get on your knees for me, Princess?”

“Mmmmmmm,” you drop down, quickly taking off the tiny green gym shorts of the camp uniform. 

You could smell Eddie when you pulled down his shorts; the pheromones made your head spin. Sure, it was hot and sticky, but you needed Eddie's sweaty balls in your face. The stench of the barn didn’t even phase you as your mouth watered for him.

“Sucha’ good girl, f’me,” He praised as you took his hard cock in your mouth. Slowly, you swirl your tongue around the deep pink head before taking more of him in your mouth. 

You pine for his affection, his touch, but mostly his words. 

You and Eddie discovered you were both pretty nasty when it came to fucking one another. Eddie loved that you could keep up with him and his dirty fantasies. 

“You always wanna be a good girl for me, don’t ya, princess.” 

“Yes, Daddy.” You say before going back onto his throbbing cock.

Eddie’s head falls back as your lips latch back onto his leaking cock.

“Fuck that’s good” Eddie slowly thrusts his hips into your mouth so his cock hits the back of your throat. “You’re perfect, Y/N.” 

Hearing him say your name makes you pine even more; the butterflies it gives you only makes you want to be all that much better for him, to him. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” You hum, pulling away to work his cock with your hand. 

Eddie can’t hold off any longer. You didn’t have much time, and someone might walk in any second. 

Without warning, Eddie quickly stands you up and walks you over to the back wall. You let out a small whimper because you aren’t done yet.

“You were being such a good girl, don’t make me punish you.” He growls low in your ear. “You want your little cunt fucked, or not? Want daddy to make you feel good?”

You nod your head silently. 

“I know, baby girl, you just need your little pussy to be played with, huh. Is that it?” He caressed your cheek before manhandling you onto the hay bail in the corner of the barn. 

You squeak when Eddie flips you and covers your mouth with his large hand to keep you quiet. 

“Shhh, we can’t have anyone walking in now, can we?: 

You silently shake your head no, and Eddie's hand falls from your mouth to grip the fat of your ass. 

“I want to do bad things to you,” He growls. 

“So do them” You push your ass into him.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” He tugs on your cotton shorts. 

“You’re not wearing any underwear?” 

“Better for you, no?” You smirk.

A low curse leaves Eddie's throat before his hands dip lower.

“You always get this wet from sucking my cock?”Eddie glides his hands along your wet folds. “Yes, Daddy,” you gasp as his fingers make contact. 

A loud screech is heard in the distance, probably a camper playing tag, but you and Eddie freeze. You both are brought back to reality; you don’t have any more time to waste. 

“I want your cock inside me, please” You reach as you look back over your shoulder to kiss him. 

“We might get caught.” 

“Good, then everyone will know I’m yours,” you smirk.

“You freaky little minx” Eddie slides his cock between your soaked folds before slowly pushing his way inside. Inch by inch, he stretches you out. 

Even though you’ve been fucking like rabbits, your body still needs time to adjust to its size. 

“You okay, baby?” 

You bite back hiss; it burns so good. 

“Yeah, just give me a minute. 

“Don’t think we have a minute, Princess.”  

“What? You going to blow your load already” You giggle, only making your already tight puss get tighter around eddies cock. 

“No, we are running out of time; Birdie and Rooster will kill us if we don’t hurry.” 

“Fine, then fuck me like you mean it.” 

The brush of Eddie’s thick cock on your inner walls was something you would never get used to. He would make you forget about everything and everyone that wasn’t solely him. Not your life outside the camp, not the pressures you felt of being perfect, not the way you are made out to be the Princess of Hawkins and certainly not the weight you felt in your chest when you think of life with Eddie after summer is over. 

All those hours you spent dreaming about being with Eddie, you never thought it would come to fruition, so you never thought about the consequences if it did happen. Now that you’ve claimed you both have claimed each other as their own, you’re struggling with what to do once you return to the real world. 

Would your parents accept him? No. You knew for a fact that they worked hard to get you where you are today, and they would never understand how loving Eddie makes any sense.

But none of that mattered right now; none of that even crossed your mind because Eddie had a way of making you feel like you were floating on a cloud of euphoria. 

“You still with me, Princess?” 

“Mmmhhmm,” you bite down to keep from moaning. 

“You know I love those sounds you make, baby, but we gotta stay quiet. 

“I’m so close, baby, please.” 

Eddie came to know your body almost as well as you did. He knew you needed extra attention to help you get over the edge, so he reached down to work your clit with his rough, calloused fingertips.

“Shit, baby, you’re so close. I can feel your pretty little pussy squeezing my cock so good.” 

“Please,” You beg as you grab Eddie’s wrist to brace yourself for your orgasm. 

“Come for Daddy.” His breath brushes past your ear, and you melt under his grasp. Your body quivers as your pussy clenches, and your brain spits out endorphins through your body. 

Eddie’s not far behind; the grip in which you clamped down on him was so delicious he couldn’t help it. Without thinking, he came inside of you, making sure all of it was pushed up far inside. 

“Did you just?” You ask breathlessly. 

“Fucking take it” He thrust every last bit of his seed into your pussy. 

“Eddie,” You whined. 

“What baby girl?” 

“I—I’m going to be all messy; I don’t even have panties…” you can already feel it dripping out of you. 

“Good. I want you to be thinking about me for the rest of the day.” 

You want to wipe that cocky smirk off his face. You would have to walk around with a puddle at the bottom of your shorts… 

“There you guys are!” It’s been like thirty minutes, so let's go!” Robin scolded, and you hiked up your shorts around your ankles. 

You hear a “gross” as she walks away, and you and Eddie can't help but laugh. 

“I’m so done covering for you guys; this is getting way out of hand.” Robin said as Eddie rejoined his campers and Ashton by the creek.

“Birdie, I’m sorry, we got carried away.”

“You always get carried away.” She rolls her eyes. 

She was right. Your relationship with Eddie was distracting you from your responsibilities.

“I’m sorry, I promise. We won’t sneak off again. I owe you so many times. Whatever you need, I got it.” 

Her facial expressions soften. “Fine. Only if you really do promise me?” 

“Cross my heart.” 

“What about lover boy?” 

“I also promise he won’t do anything to misbehave.” You smirk “during camp hours.” 

“You think we have time to stop by the cabin quickly before dinner?” You mumble. 

“Yeah why?” She glanced at her watch 

“Uh… I need to change my shorts. 

“Ugh gross, ”

—

As the weeks passed, your and Eddie’s relationship became more serious. He would like to take you on dates after hours. Even if nothing was around, he thought of ways to get creative. Much of it involved stealing from the kitchen and borrowing the projector from the supply cabinet for movie nights, but none of that mattered to you. What mattered was that he put in an effort you could only dream about. 

Last night, you snuck off to his van. There was a mattress, blankets, and some pillows. Eddie insisted you sleep together all night and set an extra early alarm so no one would notice you’re not in the cabin. 

It was risky, but you caved. How could you say no when he whispered sweet nothings into your ear while also telling you what exactly he would do to you in the privacy of his van? Eddie had a way of getting you to do anything, not that you minded. The last thing you wanted was to get into trouble, but you wanted to sleep next to him. To feel his body next to yours, to hold you. 

As you awaken from a deep slumber, you feel surprisingly well-rested. You slowly open your eyes and squint as the sun's bright light peeks through the van's windows, illuminating the small space. You realize that you're tangled in the sheets with Eddie, and a wave of happiness washes over you. As you take in the sight of him sound asleep beside you, you can't help but smile.

However, your joy is quickly interrupted by the nagging thought of the alarm that was supposed to go off. You push it to the back of your mind and take a moment to appreciate this peaceful, intimate moment with Eddie. You know that time is running out, and you must make the most of the time you have left together before it inevitably comes to an end.

You've realized that this time together is incredibly precious and fleeting. The pressures of reality are beginning to weigh heavily on you, and you understand that things won't always be this easy once you return home. With only two weeks of summer left, it's important to treasure every moment together.

You hear your name being yelled out in the distance, and you panic.  snap up quickly, reaching for Eddie's writs to see it is already 9:45 am. You’re supposed to be on the clock. 

“Get up, oh my god.” You find your shirt and pants while Eddie stirs.

“Baby, get up! We are late!” You shake him some more, and Eddie snaps awake. 

“What?? what?!”

"It’s almost ten we slept in!” You yell, throwing his shirt at him. 

“Bambi?!” You hear your name yelled along with Eddies. 

“Fuck” you’re freaking out as you scrambled out of the van, Eddie following close behind you. 

When you stepped out, Billy was there. 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” He smirks.

“Billy, please, don’t say anything.” You beg.

You knew Billy had not gotten over things. He would still comment when Eddie wasn’t around; he tried more than once to get you to come with him instead of Eddie. 

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s already camp hours; everyone has been looking for the two of you, and it seems you’ve been fornicating on Camp Murdock’s dime.” 

“Billy.” You warn. 

“What’s happening?” Eddie joins you once he is fully dressed. 

“You tell me? You and you’re little whore here—“

Billy didn’t get to finish before Eddie charged at him. He tackled him to the ground. You scream for him to stop, and you beg as you watch the two men roll around in the dirt, watching their fists make contact with one another’s faces. 

Your screams must have been heard because Robin and Steve came rushing over, along with a few others, including Carol.

“Please stop! Eddie, baby, please, he isn’t worth it!” You cry. 

You watch Steve and Ashton pull the two men apart, holding them back. 

“What on earth is going on here!” Carol yells once the commotion stops. 

“I don’t know, boss? You tell me,” Billy smirks. “Found these two playing hooky, and the next thing I know, I’m the one getting sucker punched.” 

“You little—“ 

“Stop,” Carol cuts off Eddie before he can continue. “Is that true?” Carol turns to you with a look of disappointment in her eye.

“Not—No, not exactly… our alarm didn’t go off, and we accidentally slept in…” You look down ashamed. 

“Our?” She raises a brow to you. 

“Uh— mine and Eddie’s…”

“How exactly did that happen?

“We didn’t sleep in our cabins,” you mumble, embarrassed that you were dumb enough to risk this. 

“I’m very disappointed in you Y/N.”

“I’m so sorry; it will never happen again,” You try to speak, holding back your tears.

“You’re right; it won’t happen again because you, gentleman…” you watch as she turns to Eddie and Billy, “Are you going home.” 

“What?!” They say in unison. 

“You can’t seem to be civil; we can make do with only a week and a half left.” 

“But Carol—“

“That’s final!” She turns to you. 

“As for you, young lady, I’ll give you a warning… I like you, Y/N, and seeing as your little boyfriend is leaving, I would like to think the tardiness will correct itself.” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” You bow your head in shame. 

This was not like you; you don’t break the rules, you don’t disappoint people, and you definitely do not get into trouble. 

“I don’t want to waste any more time. Get back to work...and boys, pack your things. I want you out by lunch."

—

You rush over to Robin to return to your campers, whom Nancy and Cassie are looking after. 

“Girl, what happened.” Robin looks at you worried. 

“We slept in; Billy found us in the van and called me… it doesn’t matter— and Eddie attacked him.”  You sniffle. 

Robin hugged you and tried her best to comfort you, but it was useless. Everything was ruined. 

You went through the motions the rest of the morning until lunch. You decided not to eat so you could say goodbye to Eddie. 

Billy had already packed up and left while Eddie brought his stuff to the parking lot. 

“Baby,” you whisper, trying not to startle him as you walk up to him from behind. 

“Hey.” He sounded annoyed. 

“I’m sorry, I tried to tell you we would get in trouble, but I—“

“I get it, it’s my fault, and now I’m being punished. It is what it is.” He flung the duffle into the mattress where he made love to you the night before. 

“Eddie, listen to me,” you beg.

“What?” He snaps at you. 

“Oh my god, this is exactly why we can’t be together when we go home. You’re too unpredictable, and your temper is too hot.” You snap back at him.

"What do you mean we can’t be together when we go home?” His face fell. 

“I—I”

“You were planning on breaking up with me when summer was over?! Was that it? Perfect little Princess can’t be seen with the town freak! God forbid I taint your reputation.”

“Eddie—wait.” 

“So what was your plan exactly? Make me fall for you just so you can rip my heart out? You’re sick, y/n.”

“No— please let me explain!”

“I care for you, don’t you get that!

“And I don’t!? God, Eddie, I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen.”

"If you told me that yesterday, I would have believed you… but now…. I feel like I don't even know who you are." 

"Believe me, please.” You beg, “I love you."

“Then act like it!”

“I can’t, don’t you get it? I can’t be me at home. Have you ever seen me like this in Hawkins?” You pause for his response, but he stays quiet. 

“Exactly, no. and there is a reason for that!”

“This isn’t high school anymore; the world is much bigger than Hawkins. You can be whoever you want. You don't have to please mommy and daddy anymore.” 

“I can’t”

“Why? Give me one good reason.”

“I—I—just…I can’t.” You really couldn’t. Eddie was right, but you were so scared. You were a coward. 

“Fine, I’ll save you the trouble. We are done. That’s what you wanted. You’ll return to your perfect life and move on without me.” 

“Eddie, please,” You cried. Tears were blurring your vision as you watched him get into the van. 

None of this was supposed to happen this summer. You were supposed to be with Ashley, getting over Eddie Munson and not falling more and more deeply in love with him, only to break your own heart. 

You made a terrible mistake.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. I have a long trip ahead of me.” he slams the door shut. 

“Baby, please,” you grabbed his door handle to open it, but it was already locked. 

“Let go.” He tells you when he rolls down the window. 

“Can’t we talk about this? Please, you need to understand,” You begged. 

“No, I understand it perfectly, baby; you don’t want me.” 

“Baby, please, I am so sorry. I love you. I didn't mean it!” You cry. 

You cry and cry, and Eddie can no longer watch. He is hurt, he is broken, and he can’t watch you sob any longer, so he puts the car in drive. He didn’t believe you when those three words fell from your lips.

You froze as Eddie drove off without so much as a goodbye. This was not how you wanted things to end. You didn’t want things to end. Eddie was the best thing to happen to you. You needed him in your life. You could not go through life without him now that you’ve had a little slice of heaven with him this summer.  You fucked up; you fucked up badly and needed to fix things. 

tags: @winchester-angel @josephquinnsfreckles @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @emma-munson @littlexdeaths @siriuslysmoking @peachysink @nailbatanddungeon @leelei1980 @daisy-munson @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can @strangerstilinski @bl0ssomanddie @seb-buckybarnes @chickenandsheep-blog @lokis-army-77 @ali-r3n @erinekc @rowanswriting @snowflowersstars246 @micheledawn1975 @princesatracionera @bells-28 @kellsck @ezzynf @oneforthemunny @brxkenartt @ktiutsa @sofiaadela @guineveresghost @nabiiturner @eddiesguitarskills @comeonatmebruh @sky-full-0f-fl0wers

[caitified]

angst is my go to so how about a caitlin fic where she feels like she has to hide her relationship with reader from the public. so for wtv reason you choose caitlin leaves reader because she can’t seem to be herself in the public and later when caitlin comes back to reader, reader doesn’t let her back in to her life

get you back

caitlin clark x reader

warningz: none, can write a happy needing for my non-angst people

you had always known being with caitlin clark would come with its challenges. she was a basketball star, after all, and you were just…you. but the hardest part wasn’t the attention or the scrutiny—it was how caitlin insisted on keeping your relationship a secret. even after you uprooted your entire life to move to indiana with her after she got drafted, she still wasn’t ready to share you with the world.

“it’s not that i don’t love you,” she’d say whenever you tried to bring it up. “i just don’t want the media all over us. i’m not ready for that.”

you wanted to be patient. after all, you understood the pressure caitlin was under. but the longer it went on, the more it wore you down. you’d see her at events, smiling for the cameras, and you’d stand on the sidelines, just another face in the crowd. you told yourself it didn’t matter—that what you had with her behind closed doors was enough. but deep down, it hurt.

then one night, she came home from practice, looking more exhausted than usual. you knew something was wrong before she even spoke. she sat down beside you on the couch, staring at the floor.

“we need to talk,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

your heart sank. you knew what was coming.

“i can’t do this anymore,” caitlin said, her words piercing through you. “i’m just…i’m too scared. i’m not ready to be out there like that. and it’s not fair to you.”

you sat there in stunned silence, your world crashing down around you. you had given up everything to be with her, moved to indiana to build a life with her, and now she was telling you it wasn’t enough. tears welled up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. not yet.

“so, that’s it?” you asked, your voice trembling. “you’re just going to end things because you’re scared?”

caitlin looked at you, guilt and pain written all over her face. “i’m sorry,” she whispered. “i never wanted to hurt you.”

but she had, and there was nothing she could say to fix it. you packed up your things that night, leaving behind the life you had built with her. indiana was never home without caitlin, but iowa didn’t feel like home anymore either. you were lost, heartbroken, and unsure of what came next.

weeks passed, and you tried to move on, tried to piece your life back together. but then, you started seeing the pictures. caitlin with some guy, holding hands, smiling for the cameras. it didn’t make sense—she had broken up with you because she wasn’t ready to be public, yet here she was, pretending to be in a relationship with someone else. the sight of it made your stomach turn.

you knew it wasn’t real. you knew caitlin too well. she was trying to keep up appearances, trying to prove to the world that she wasn’t who she really was. but it hurt all the same. you had given her everything, and now she was out there, parading around with someone else.

and then, one night, you heard a knock on your door.

you opened it to find caitlin standing there, drenched from the rain, looking like she hadn’t slept in days. her eyes were red, and she was clutching something in her hands—a hoodie you had left behind in indiana.

“i messed up,” she said, her voice cracking. “i messed up so bad.”

you stared at her, your heart aching at the sight of her, but the pain she had caused you was still too fresh. “what do you want, caitlin?” you asked, your voice cold.

“i miss you,” she whispered, stepping closer. “i can’t do this without you. i thought i could pretend, but i can’t. i love you, and i’m so sorry. please, give me another chance.”

her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, you almost caved. almost. but then you remembered all the nights you spent waiting for her to be ready, all the times you felt like a secret, like you weren’t enough. you couldn’t go through that again.

“no, caitlin,” you said, shaking your head. “you can’t just come back now and expect everything to be okay. i gave you everything, and you threw it away because you were scared. and now, what? you realize you made a mistake and expect me to just forgive you?”

tears streamed down her face as she looked at you, desperate, broken. “please,” she begged, her voice barely audible. “i love you.”

but love wasn’t enough. not this time.

“you should go,” you said, stepping back and closing the door on the girl who once meant everything to you.

the sound of the rain outside was the only thing that filled the silence after she was gone, but even that couldn’t drown out the ache in your chest.

[splatsvilles-fashionista]

The appeal of One Piece

I know everyone's a bit sour on One Piece after the clown stunt tumblr pulled, but with the live-action series out and the anime popping off on social media, there's more eyes on this goofy pirate story than ever, and I've been dying to talk about it, so now's the time.

A lot of the conversation around One Piece is steeped in hyperbole, and it's hard not to be hyperbolic when you're talking about a work of almost unprecedented length and popularity. With that in mind, I wanna try to explain what makes One Piece so good in a way that is concise, spoiler-free, and that will give you an idea if this might actually be a story you'll enjoy.

And I do actually think a lot of people who would enjoy One Piece are currently writing it off, and I think a lot of the blame lies on assumptions people have about shonen as a genre. One Piece is no doubt a shonen, with young and teen boys as the primary demographic, but it is also first and foremost an adventure story about a group of quirky outcasts setting out to follow their dreams, despite (or often in spite of) the crushing weight of reality.

But you can't have an adventure story without a world to set that adventure in, and what a world Eiichiro Oda has crafted. One Piece manages to feel like it has fully realized an entire planet, with every island we travel to having a very distinct sense of culture and visual identity. A lot of care has gone into building the history and politics of these places, and the mechanics by which their more out-there elements, like the sky-high ocean geyser or the mountain with an upside-down waterfall, function. As such, it is a setting that afford its story a lot of variety, while also being able to tackle a lot of very heady topics like authoritarianism, racism, and abuse in intelligent, nuanced ways.

But just as important as all of islands we visit are the wonderful characters we meet. A lot of people aren't into One Piece's exaggerated cartoon aesthetic, and I respect that, but it does lend itself to a lot of very unique faces and body types that make its cast of 1000+ characters a joy to behold. This is admittedly less true of the more conventionally attractive women, many of whom look very similar, but this is does not extend to their writing. Oda is very good at imbuing his characters with life, pulling on their histories to give them personalities and quirks that are often as funny as they are sad. Everyone I know that reads One Piece has a side character that they stan hardcore for, be it the lovable klutz Donquixote Rocinante or the petulant ghost girl Perona.

And all of this is especially true for our protagonists, the Straw Hat Pirates, each one of which is a deep, multifaceted character whose drive and dreams can be traced back to their often heartbreaking origins. I know I mentioned it at the top already, but at its core, One Piece is ultimately a story about a group of hurt, lonely individuals who find in each other not just friends, but a family that will support and protect them as together they chase their dreams in the face of a world whose systems have been built to squash them underfoot.

All of this is brought together by Oda's exceptional artistic skill. While as mentioned earlier, One Piece's cartoony artstyle isn't for everyone, it's by no means an accident. One Piece is a story set in a cartoon world, and Oda is able to give even his most ridiculous characters and places a tangible sense of physicality, making everything feel real within the confines of the page. While Oda has a team of assistants to help him, he still does the brunt of the art himself, and his dedication to his craft means the comic is full of panels that are breathtaking in their complexity and visual density.

But it's not just his technical skill that makes the art of One Piece so good, it's that Oda is also very good at letting his art speak for him. Compared to a lot of other big shonen manga, One Piece doesn't lean as heavily on the dialogue to give the readers all the necessary information, but can convey a lot of what is happening and how characters are thinking and feeling through its artwork. There's some sections where this doesn't hold as true (and they are frequently less well-liked as a result) but it makes One Piece a far lighter read than its soon to be 1100 chapter-count would make you believe.

But the thing I think makes One Piece the most exceptional of all, and what makes me recommend it despite its length, is that as a story, One Piece has a remarkable clarity of vision. One Piece has a stance and a worldview that it does not waver on, and it is present from the very beginning. It's is romantic story, about the power of faith and dreams, about people's right to be free and be who they want to be, and about how the beauty and wonder of the world makes its worth its danger and uncertainty.

One Piece knows what it wants to be from the very beginning, and because of that you don't have to wait for it to get good. A problem that a lot of longform media struggles with is that the opening hours are a slog to get through, because it doesn't show you its hand early enough for you to know if it's something you'll like, and that is not a problem One Piece has. It is exactly what it is going to be from the beginning, only in a simpler, cruder form that it is going to expand upon to become the sprawling pirate fantasy epic it has grown to be. This clarity of vision also makes One Piece very rewarding for attentive readers, as it frequently hints at future places and characters, and plants story seeds that it pays off hundreds of chapters later. It does a lot to make the world feel big and interconnected, and makes One Piece very fun to re-read as you pick up on things you missed the first time around.

It is frequently recommended that new readers start with the initial 100 chapters, the East Blue saga (which is what the live action series adapts, for the record), to see if One Piece is right for them, and that's the note I am going to end this post on, as well. East Blue uses its 100 chapters to tell a fairly self-contained story that introduces the first half of the core cast, setting the stakes and building its world while giving you plenty of interesting places, bizarre creatures, and wacky action all the while. It is One Piece showing you its hand, with the promise that if you like what you see, it'll have so, so much more in store for you

[halyasgirl]

Rayllum's problems are Moonshadow problems

(and Runaan needs to help fix them)

Callum and Rayla have officially reconciled as of season 6, and while many were happy, some still feel that Rayla hasn't properly earned Callum's forgiveness as she's never directly apologized for abandoning him. Personally, I don’t mind that Rayla hasn’t apologized yet. I think it makes sense that she still doesn’t quite understand how harmful it was, because her “leaving to keep a loved one safe” was perfectly consistent with the values she was raised with. Specifically, the values Runaan raised her with, and he's been Rayla's primary role model throughout her life.

Rayla putting her body between an innocent child and someone trying to kill them and refusing to back down no matter the odds? Runaan.

Unhesitatingly going to her almost-certain death in the name of duty? Runaan.

Leaving her loved ones on dubious intel to stalk someone across the world like a vengeful persistence predator? Runaan again.

Rayla does know her leaving hurt Callum, but however bad she feels about leaving, she still thinks she's done the right thing, because Callum's safe. This attitude of leaving to keep others safe while striking out alone to deal with challenges is held up as an expression of selfless sacrifice in Moonshadow culture, and we see it play out for Rayla in her own family. Her parents leave her to protect the future of Xadia in the Dragonguard. Runaan leaves Ethari for his work as an assassin. Bluntly put, Bloodmoon Huntress is a story of Rayla being conditioned with these values, however loving her family is.

Rayla struggles with her resentment and feelings of abandonment when her parents leave, but starts to come around after seeing how Runaan and Ethari (happily married and deeply in love) rationalize this in their relationship. Rayla questions how Runaan could leave Ethari to do the things he does, how Ethari could accept it, and is told that bad things can be justified if you do them for the right reasons. This is clearest to her when Runaan and Ethari discuss this together, unknowingly overheard by Rayla.

Rayla emulates Runaan in her relationship with Callum, but Ethari understands why Runaan does the things he does, because he shares the same (questionable) cultural values, where Callum does not.*

I think the catch will be the entire moonfam grappling with where these values led them. Runaan has been described as the most Moonshadow of the Moonshadow elves, his particular brand of selfless ruthlessness is valued there. But he spent two years in a hell of his own making because he tried and failed to uphold Moonshadow society's impossible values. Was Runaan trekking across country to murder a 10 year old really doing anything to keep his people safe? Was it worth tearing their family apart?

I think seeing her family have to deal with the fallout of their actions may be the breaking point forcing Rayla to reevaluate her treatment of Callum. How do they move forward from this?

*This understanding is also built on the communication and trust Ethari and Runaan have built in their marriage, where Rayla broke her promise, lied to, and abandoned Callum. In Bloodmoon Huntress, Runaan trusts Ethari's judgement and respects his decision when he follows him into a dangerous situation, and they plan and work together to solve the problem. We know from "Ghost" they disagreed on Runaan's last mission and Rayla's role in it, but they discussed and came to an agreement, for better or worse. Runaan doesn't dismiss him and he certainly didn't lie and go behind his back. Rayla's dishonesty is definitely not something she gets from Moonshadow values or Runaan, but before we drag Rayla too much for this, recall that Runaan keeping his promises led him to try and murder a child, and Rayla's lies are usually a misguided attempt to protect others.