#and how I fought for every ounce of this life that I have

[andersonfilms]

KNUCKLE VELVET, TORN ON MY TEETH

❝ VI!ONE SHOT ❞

pairing. pitfighter!vi x bartender!reader

warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: arcane season two spoilers, soft angst, smut, bartender!reader, crashout!vi mends her cold heart, inexperienced!vi, switch!reader + vi, fem coded reader, coded alcohol addiction, slight spit kink, strap use.

KNUCKLE VELVET TORN ON MY TEETH, there's something charming about the pitfighter who doesn't stop drinking until she reaches the bottom of the barrel and the bartender who keeps walking her home.

wc. 7k+

rayray yaps. popping my vi!oneshot cherry, hehe, and i'm happy to do so. the vi brainrot has been real as fuck lately. i fear it's not going away anytime soon. but i wanted to give a special shoutout to @hypnagogics for proofreading this fic, means sm to me ily + my sweet bubba, @absfawn for the title name, i could kiss you until my lips fall off. the best people ever, i love them so much. okay, now i have yapped enough! happy reading, hope you enjoy.

Trapped in the abyss, just when everything had been taken from her life seems to sacrifice another offering on a silver platter. Something else that she thought could be hers, but wasn’t. In the end, all of it was the same. Life is the same. She takes three steps forward, circumstances out of her control take her apart like enforcers imposing their will on Zaun, and she’s forced to move five steps back. It’s all she feels, powerless. 

Wanting nothing more than to drown her sorrows, forget all that she's lost. For everything that’s been taken, Vi feels an overpowering loss, threatening to take over everything she’s trying to build. But Vi thinks of none of it now, she can’t afford to think of one more thing. So, she doesn’t. All of her mind forgets. She forces herself to. 

Zaun, Piltover, Jinx, Vander, Silco, and Cait. 

She drowns in blood, sweat, and liquor for nights to come. She forgets everything and you are just the cherry top on this one shitty sundae. Anytime she’s here, Vi manages to get herself into a fight. Each time. Every time she tries to apologize or hold an ounce of guilt in her eyes, you see right through her crystal blues. From the very first night, you called her bullshit. Even if Vi didn’t give in, it was hard to hide her small smirk. 

She lets herself think it’s because you’re a bartender. You practically get paid to read people, listen to them vent about shit you probably don’t give two shits about and break up the fights that erupt every thirty minutes. Overinflated egos and drunken assholes weren’t a great mix. The jury was still out if you though Vi was one. She could have both, she didn’t really talk much. Vi fought, drank until she couldn’t see straight, and you helped her up to her small apartment right across the street and up the steps into her said apartment. 

No matter how hard she tries, it always ends the same. Vi looking like an imbecile and you, the pretty bartender who shuts down every advance she throws your way. Vi wonders who had a stronger shell, what you’re hiding in order to protect yourself. 

Maybe she is just an asshole. 

“You don’t have to walk me up here. I-I can make it just fine on my own.” 

As soon as your fingertips let go of her fragile frame, Vi’s inebriated body collapses on the concrete steps, grabbing onto the metal framing as if her life depends on it. 

“Really? Now you wanna prove a point?” 

“For your information, I’m always in it to prove a point.” 

Even if your words are harsh, with a soft smile and a hand open, Vi takes it as you let her lean on your weight as you assist her up the steps. There’s little shame to be had once the two of you make it in. It isn’t like the first time and when she noticed the scrunch of your nose in taking the smell, tequila and grease. Vi thought it was cute but she halts any further thought. 

Quickly, Vi disposed of her leather jacket and pants she’s left in boxers and the wrap protecting her chest. The part of her life that seems to be kept together. She doesn’t really mind it though, you. Seeing her like this. Even more so, she enjoys it. You’re always so dismissive at the bar, hardly holding eye contact, turning down any flirting she hurls your way. Just like the vomit Vi had nearly thrown up on your shoes but made a quick diversion for the bush to the right of her instead. 

This is truly the only time she knows you want her. Not so subtly, your eyes trace her like each pinpoint of your gaze is painting her on a clean canvas, one Vi wonders if she’ll like or not. When she’s been around you, she’s been wondering about a lot of things — thoughts she quite literally can’t afford. 

It’s her, nothing ever ends well when her feelings can get crushed on the other side. 

Everything she touches burns to ash before she can even hold it for a moment, a second of symphony retaliates with years of misery. How could you be any different? She wishes you would burn her underneath your gaze, put her out of the misery she feels growing every day, but you don’t. You’re always pulling her out of trouble when you truly don’t have to. It’s not your job to take care of her or hell, even look after her. 

But you do and she can’t seem to figure out why. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Just shut the fuck up and let me help you. Not everyone has a motive. Some people just like to help when someone is so clearly struggling.” 

“I’m not—” 

You give her a glare that seems to shut her up. You draw a bath for her. It’s easy to find her towels in the only cabinet. It’s an acute studio apartment. More so of a small room with a stove stop, minimal counter space, and one bathroom enough to bathe and brush her teeth in. There isn’t much left of it but it’s hers. Grabbing the first aid kit, you kneel between her legs, the mattress sits on the floor, her legs spread and stretching out in front of you. 

“Let me help you. Alright?” Vi grumbles, a incoherent complaint, but she lets you tend to her wounds. 

It’s mainly just cleaning off her dry blood as she still complains in the process, but there’s a few cuts on her face and her cheeks are already beginning to bruise. It’s not a secret, she bruises like a peach but she always makes sure her opponent is leaving a lot more with just a few cuts and a bruise the size of a plum. 

It’s then, when you’re concentrating on the cuts on her face, the busted lip she’s sporting; she looks at you. Maybe it’s the first time she has, but without even realizing it, she gets lost. Not in the way Vi doesn’t know who she is, that she’s completely lost on, but Vi sees you. 

Bright-eyed, optimistic, helpful, kind — all attributes she couldn’t claim but wears like a badge of honor. As if helping others instills you with a sense of purpose, something that’s always been a lost cause to her. Fight until the next fight, and the next, and the next. That’s what she’s done, she's always been a fighter. She’s fallen back on it when needed. It’s clear to her. Like a vision she could see, crystal clear through some stupid ball, it’s always been about survival. 

But how much longer does she want to fight and how much more does she have in her? 

“Thanks.” Vi speaks softly. 

Not knowing where to place her palms, she settles for her thigh. Silent as she watches, nearly analyzing every moment, every glance, every little thing you’re doing. It’s sobering to say the least. You don’t need to be delicate but you are. It’s more kindness than she deserves, nearly leaving a bitter taste on her tongue but when you offer a small smile and a soft whisper, you’re welcome. 

It’s the sweetest thing Vi has ever seen. 

There’s something different in the way you look at her. The soft omission exposes how sweet on Vi you may be. Definitely more than you’d let on, which was well…none. Up until tonight, she thought you hated her. With each word uttered in your direction, Vi assumed you’d rather swallow bile than stomach her slurred, flirty speech. 

“Why do you want to help? It’s not like I’ve exactly been—” 

“Kind?” 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

This time Vi lets the smile reach her eyes and your smile gets even sweeter. She can practically feel the sweetness rotting her teeth as she speaks. It’s the first time she feels something new, something as bright as the light radiating through your eyes. 

“You just seem different. Even if you do try to hide it.” 

With a flush of crimson coating the apple of her cheeks, she’s never been quite as exposed as this. The next few weeks are spent with less drinking, but Vi frequents the bar just as much as she did before. She orders a few pints just to talk to you. She’s learning more about you, slowly but surely, you’re opening up more. Divulging information you wouldn’t have before, trust is earned. It’s something you told her the first night you met and to this day, Vi still remembers it. 

Regardless of how drunk she’d been when you said it. 

It’s a typical night. Vi flirted with you but you aren’t being dismissive tonight but you’re careful enough to not let her know exactly how you feel. Everything you say is guarded enough you keep her on her toes, for a moment she thinks she might have to become a ballerina. It’s a slow night, Wednesday. Go figure Vi thinks. There was a woman who’d also been flirting with you all night. Vi thought she was beautiful, sweet, funny…certainly was making you laugh all night. 

Part of Vi wanted to feel jealous but it feels too good hearing you laugh, she says nothing. Maybe you just don’t like women. Vi was known for reading into things too much, thinking everyone thought with their heart first just like she did, and assuming every hot and attractive woman was into other women — just like she is. 

But the brunette left before closing, leaving Vi and a few other regulars paying their tab as they stumbled home with a belly full of liquor of their choosing. 

“Alright Vi, don’t you have somewhere to be? Maybe getting some sleep for the night?” 

“I don’t sleep much, it’s better if I don’t.” 

“Keeps the nightmares away.” 

All Vi does is nod. 

“Story of the century.” You take Vi’s empty pint before washing it dispersing in the sink before cleaning up the remainder of the bar top. “Everyone’s got one around here and the new one is usually even more depressing than the last.” 

“What about yours?” 

“If you wanna hear that, I’ll have to be the one doing the drinking.” You smile but it’s the first one Vi recognizes as insincere. 

“Yeah, seems to be the stone cold requirement for a heart to heart.” 

Vi’s silent as you vent to her about the customer who refused to pay up tonight until you threatened to kick his ass and that wasn't enough, you threatened Letty on him. Vi found herself only slightly entranced as you spoke with such color, your animated voice doing impressions of the stubborn patreon, moving your hands as you speak, eyebrows furrowed as you finished the story. 

You’re done cleaning and are ready to close by the time you finish, locking the door as Vi stuffs her hands in her pockets, “Can I ask you something?” 

You cling to your bag like a lifeline. Vi notices how tight your grip is on the strap, almost as if you’re afraid. Of what? She has a craving to find out. “Why’d you turn her away? She seemed plenty interested. Not your type?” 

You take a step forward, just as close as the last time you were in her apartment, tending to wounds she wouldn’t have really cared about but still she let you clean them. 

You didn’t have to know that. Not yet, anyway. 

“No, not really. I like my women a little rough around the edges, stumbling out of bars so wasted they can’t even walk home by themselves.” You smirk, grabbing the lapel of her leather jacket as you tug her closer to you. “Or is that what you want me to say?” 

“Is it true?” 

You both know the hope in her eyes is dangerous. 

Hope. 

A foreign concept in Zaun. If you get too close to the flame, you’ll get burned, dusting into ash as if you never existed. It’s what shimmer did to people, wipe them off the map until they reformed into a shell of what they used to be. You didn’t just get out of a place like this, not without some help. Vi could barely even help herself. 

The both of you know it’s a bad idea. A terrible, god awful idea, but you still move in closer to her. Vi notices and she wipes the smirk off her face, your warm hands finding purchase on her exposed hips, drawing soft circles on her hip bones. She likes it, even when her heart feels torn from being blown to bits by a certain blue-eyed beauty. 

Vi likes you. 

“Your skin is softer than I thought it would be, smooth like pure silk. Not that I’ve ever touched it before but I’ve got to believe it would feel a lot like this.” 

Vi feels a tingle up her spin, your touch is overwhelming, more than she bargained for really. A stumbling, messy kiss is all she really expected if anything. Not this. Clearly, you knew what to do. Leaving Vi a little clueless in that department, she’s knocked off her feet once again but this time in a way she wants to be. But actually bringing something this special to anything more than a few flirty quips? It never seems to be her strong suit. 

So, she puts her best foot forward. Her big stupid mouth, one she can never quite fully silence. “I can guarantee my lips feel a lot softer.” 

“Vi—” You speak her name like a warning, an unspoken law you’re breaking by entertaining your feelings and the bubbling sentiments you hold for her close to your heart. You know better than to keep it so close, but the halo in her eyes blinds you to reason and you let it. 

“It’s Violet but you can call me whatever you want, sweets.” 

You chuckle at the pet name. 

“Just one night. That’s it. Just to get it out of our system.” 

“One night, sweets. It’s all I need.” 

— 

It’s how you ended up here, the third night in a row since the first, trapped under the web of Vi and her eager mouth. Slender, perfectly sculpted fingers feel like a hex to your cunt, every moment causing you to fall further into her spell. To say she has a certain talent would be considered an understatement. It’s clear Vi’s enjoying herself, fuck, damn near suffocates herself in your weeping cunt. Last night wasn’t nearly enough, she needs to have you, again. Not that you were complaining. 

As much as you hate to admit it, there has been no one as generous as her. As good as her, as sweet, as kind, and she did whatever the hell you asked for. Nothing has beaten the first night, her thumping clit nudging against your as she hiked one of your legs over her toned shoulders. 

It’s not a secret how built she is, far from it, but it’s another thing entirely to watch her flexed bicep ripple with every grind of her hips. Each movement seems to be calculated with precision, focused on doing more than just making herself feel good. With pure determination, glazed over crystal blue eyes, and a pouty scarred lip, she makes sure you’re enjoying this as much as her. With each moan you let slip, her confidence only grows until she’s commanded full control over you. She takes what she wants from you and in return you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, constellations created in the shape of her name as you come. 

“That’s it pretty girl, just for me, yeah?” Vi talks you through  as she works you through your orgasm with her strong hips, not stopping even after you’ve cum. She wants more and Vi pulls three more orgasms out of you before she’s done for the night. You expected her to be good. There was no shocker there but you didn’t expect her to be so sweet afterwards. Vi is a drunk, an addict, whether she wants to accept it or not. You could be just another object she’s addicted to. Somehow, you convince yourself it’s just a one time thing. It doesn’t mean anything, it won’t. 

Truthfully it feels much more than just a one night stand, more than an itch being scratched — the blossoming ache in your soul feels tethered to your heart every time Vi makes you feel an ounce of love — even when she tries to hide it behind a wall. Whether you’re aware, the wall can’t seem to stop crumbling. Brick by brick, it’s coming undone just as you have. Weak-willed and with purpose, you fall into her. 

There isn’t an inch of your body Vi didn’t kiss. Her lips tattooing every inch of your skin with marked affection, almost as if she’s mending your skin with the burn of her lips. When she claims your soft lips, haunting you with the salvation of perfection as her velvet tongue invades your mouth, the taste of you melting from her tongue to yours. The silent declaration you didn’t ask for but craved, the carnal moan leaving her mouth as she chuckles when your hips pathetically grind into hers. 

Vi enjoys your company, that much is clear, but this time you bring her to your place. It’s more or less the same. Both of you coming down from the highest of highs, you feel sticky, dirty, and damn right heavenly. Vi disappears into your bathroom, grabbing a wash rag before dampening the material underneath a warm faucet. Carefully, she kneels by your hips, legs twitching softly as her skilled fingers find your slit before Vi’s sucking the digit in your mouth. 

“I just wanted one last taste before I clean you up.” 

As she has before, Vi makes good on her promise and cleans you up. She enjoys when the pad of her thumb grazes against your clit, terribly overstimulated, your stomach twitches. All Vi can do is chuckle. 

“I’m just a little—” 

“Sensitive?” Vi smirks as you hide your face in the palm of her hands, the pad of her thumb gently caressing your skin.  

It’s the lightest she’s felt in weeks. Almost as if she’s floating on a cloud, she wants to stay up there in the cloudiest of nines. Just you and her and an aging mattress as she offers you everything she can give. Albeit, it isn’t much but she’ll still freely give. 

Like a dog with a bone, Vi corners you on the third night when it’s just you and her in the bar. Closing time has long since arrived and vanished into the crisp air of the night but Vi has you bent over the bar, desperation clawing at the weathered countertop of the bar as Vi’s fingers fucks your pretty little hole while her tongue laps at the slick that’s dripping out of you. Your pretty little skirt pushed up, your panties pushed to the side as she laps and sucks at your juices. She can feel you dripping onto her chin and it only makes her that much more eager to swallow every bit you have to offer. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this—” Fuck. Vi starts doing tricks with her tongue, sliding in another finger, pushing against the soft spot buried deep as she toys with you in the way knows best. “We, um, Vi we said just one night.” 

“Shut the fuck up and take it like a good girl. Or did you forget?” Vi moans into your cunt, the vibrations causing your thighs to shake under her mouth. “It’s not like you were complaining last night.” 

Vi silences you as her pace picks up, her fingers fucking you at such a pretty pace, feeling the build grow in the pit of your stomach edging to come to a full bloom. 

All of you begging for it to be released. Vi uses her free hand to slap your ass, sending you moaning and lurching forward. You push yourself back grinding against her tongue, before she removes her divine mouth as she kisses up your spine, her fingers stuffed inside you not faltering for a moment. 

Vi continues to kiss up your spine until she reaches the nape of your neck, her breath kissing your skin, your body shivers into her touch. Full lips ghost over your ear before whispering quietly, “Are you sure you want me to stop? I will if you want me to. I just thought you might wanna, you know, take my cock tonight. Give it a good ride.” 

The moan you let out would put Aphrodite’s to shame, needy and choked sobs escape you as her fingers thrust inside you faster than they have before. 

“Oh? Do you like the sound of that, babygirl? Want to show me how good you can be for me?” Vi doubled down on her efforts, enjoying how much you arched into her body, your hips pushing back as you grind into quick fingers. She’s fucking you better than well…anyone. 

“Vi, please.” Your voice catches in your throat, hoarse and full of need. An insatiable craving; one you fear only she can provide. A few mindless days and careless flirting to land in her sheets, her in yours, the details didn’t truly matter. A vampire out for blood, almost more venomous than precious canines breaking the skin, you yearned to suck on every last drop. But she didn’t seem to be in a mind frame to relinquish control. 

“Please what? I’m not sure if I understand you.” 

All of it, so tantalizing, so fucking infuriating. Three fingers inside you, effectively making you silent, shutting you up as she brings you closer to the edge. That’s the thing, truthfully, Vi has you right where she wants. Only a few thrusts away until you come undone around her. The black haired succubus increases the pace, thumb playing with your clit, her calloused fingers increasing your high as she applies more pressure on the thousands of nerve endings on your precious pearl. 

“Shit. You’re gonna pay for this.” 

“What? For making you come? I hardly constitute that as a crime.” 

Your hands reach for the counter top, you’re not sure what exactly you want, but Vi makes you come for the first time that night. It’s a game, the push and pull. Dangerous. Intoxicating. Some disposition falling far from your fingertips, a game to her and a downward hill spiral for you. Addiction festering next to an open wound and the only antidote can be found on her tongue. Tasting the devil’s mouth is one thing but swallowing the sensation of the woman you’re beginning to love is something else entirely. 

Vi, despite her best efforts not to, makes you fall over the edge. It’s more than her eager tongue and expectant mouth slurping at the vindication of your taste. The craving builds like an exposed vein. Her confidence irrevocably soars like a raven through the midnight sky. Even if Vi acts like she’s done this before, you could pull the curiosity intertwined with naivety a mile away. Violet has never done this before, not with a woman at least, you’re sure of it. She’s a fast learner and such a great accomplishment should replenish such a reward. 

With the energy you have left, you push your skirt down first, as Vi puts your underwear back in place. She doesn’t stop touching you. She can’t. There isn’t much she feels she has control over, this arrangement being one of them. She’s good at this and Vi enjoys it. Every other part of her life, failure surrounds her, her ability not to please anyone in her life. 

In a constant loop, she finds herself caught in the crossfire. Tugged between sister and lover, family and righteousness. Her enemy becomes her lover and lover becomes enemy — all of it poisons her blood and cures her core — and all of it makes her hear a voice she doesn’t recognize but it’s just as true as the four walls surrounding her. 

Oil and water. 

Collecting like scars on her porcelain skin, Vi feels herself sink like an obliterating star. There’s a wonder settled in her chest, it feels heavy and weak, two incapable fists unable to surround her heart with anything but loss, betrayal even. She can’t punch her way out of this one.

All of it wakes a fire in her chest, a dagger being punctured in her heart by the one Vi thought she could trust the most. She doesn’t want to admit it so she doesn’t. 

But this? It feels easy. 

She needs easy, light, even good. Maybe she doesn’t deserve it. 

Vi definitely doesn’t, the sentence flows like a never-ending stream of waterfall continuously drowning her. The blood on her hands stains her perception of all things pure, she wonders how she even sees you at all. How you see her more vividly than anyone, possibly even Cait. There’s no judgment, no snarky remark of where she comes from. Even if she thought there had once been love, Vi questions it now. 

When you come, it feels like a breath of fresh air, a golden wave washing over her sinful hands. Each stroke of gold, your grit and blind hopefulness soaks Vi’s entity. This is what she wants. There’s nothing more than this, someone she could love, who loves her. It’s uncomplicated but the feeling flees as you come to it. Vi can’t help but feel regretful as you cover your ass, it’s such a pretty sight. She can’t stop that she’s greedy, you’ve fed her for the first time in her life and now Vi feels full but she’s only human. 

A sinner always craves more. 

She lets her touch linger on the gold between your thighs, pushing the white substance back into you before Vi lets you feel how wet you are, the dripping slick feels uncomfortable caged into cotton underwear and she wants you to feel it. The breath Vi hears are still heavy, impossibly heavy, and there’s pride in hearing you center yourself, back pressed against her chest as Vi keeps you in place. 

The pleasure within your body begins to slither away as you come back into the angel you are and not the sexual deviant bent over the woman who never pulls her punches. 

“Felt good, yeah?” Vi says. Her angelic, sweeter than the cotton candy stick in your teeth, voice penetrates through. You like it too much. It shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does. Desperately, you want to keep this casual but you’re even losing your footing. 

You pride yourself on the lack of attachment; you don’t need it. Never really had. But then with her it seems to change even faster than the seasons, your wall breaks somehow in between from spring to summer. With intent, you move around, her bright eyes have darken a bit but the fading light looks brighter than you’ve ever seen it. 

Fuck, Vi is making this difficult. 

“You could say that.” You speak softly, a tremble in your voice occurs but Vi says nothing but she does smirk. “Can I ask you something?” 

You turn around and suddenly Vi is staring at your exposed cleavage, the one you use to draw in patreons and to fill your pockets with as many tips as one can muster. Vi had been one, a faithful one trying to drink her away to the bottom of every bottle until she found something else for her. Something that didn’t leave a burn in her throat. 

“What is it?” 

“Was it your first time? The first night?” 

Sheepishly, Vi blushes. For a second, she contemplates lying but you’d see right through it. Right through her. It would only take one look in her blues and you would know. 

“That obvious?” Vi struggles with her words next but she manages to murmur a lame excuse. “Stillwater didn’t leave much time for this.” 

“And after?” You tease but the sincerity in your eyes soothes her. 

“There could have been but there wasn’t. Some things just don’t fit.” Oil and water is what she wants to say but she bites her tongue. 

“You should have told me. I wouldn’t have been so, I don’t know, selfish?” 

“There’s nothing selfish about it. I wanted to make you feel good. Did you enjoy yourself?” This time she makes your skin feel hot. Fuck. 

“Yeah, I did enjoy myself,” you pressed against her as your arms loop around Vi’s necks to bring her closer “but I think it’s officially my turn to offer my services. Don’t you think so?” 

It’s how Vi ends up here, in your place, in your bed — soaked. 

If there was one thing you knew, it was how to please someone. You managed to pull whimpers out of her she didn’t even know existed. The desperate plea coming from her shivering body as she spilled in your mouth the first time sent a shiver down her spine, the band in her stomach snapping as you sloppily spit on her cunt, constant circles of pressure on her clit seeing nothing but your eyes look up at her. 

Not letting a single drop go to waste, you fucked Vi through it, swallowing her completely. Vi shed the wrap covering her chest next. Her body bruised from the pit fights but you couldn’t think of anyone more beautiful than her. You paid attention to her collarbones, neck, and her tits. Sucking on her nipples as Vi tries to come down from the high you placed her on, she doesn’t think she ever will. 

She tries not to think that she wanted these things with Caitlyn. Cait. Cupcake. 

Vi only allows herself to think of her when she’s dreaming, visions of what that could have been, what she used to be. All of it so trivial, so senseless when she thinks of you. How you make her feel is different and she tries not to think of what it all means. 

One night. 

Then two. 

Now three. 

In another life, maybe she was stronger, and didn't need to be wanted. Hell, even needed. She could wait for someone who she thought loves her but the other part of her doesn’t want to think, she wants to feel. Vi likes feeling the softness of your skin, the light in your laughter, the swell of your exposed chest, the way your greedy eyes take in her abs, your soft lips kissing every part of her skin. The smooth, the scarred, the unworthy — you take it all in such stride. 

“Do you want to stop? I think I lost you for a second.” You inquire to the pretty girl beneath you, her hands find your waist, creating makeshift circles on your hip bones. 

“No, that’s the last thing I want.” Vi brings you to her lips, capturing your bottom lip, tongue invading your mouth. She tastes herself as your tongue melts with hers and the rest of her worries melt away. It’s just you and her. “I want to keep going.” 

“Then tell me what you want, baby. I’ll do whatever you want. It’s yours if you want it.” 

It’s spoken as a reminder. All of this is her decision. Vi decides when she wants this, how she wants it, and you’re letting her take all of it in the way she needs. Vi tried not to think the first couple times, she never wanted her first time to be a big deal. Maybe with Caitlyn it could have been, but then she changed. 

Vi thought maybe she could too. So, she did. 

“Can you—” Vi stutters. Yet again her attention gets pulled to your tits, the softness of your stomach, she can’t stop looking at you. As if she’s trying to remember everything about you. She’s committed to it. Vi wants to remember the soft curves of your hips, the way you moan when she comes on your tongue. 

The sight of you looking down at her makes she lose every rational thought, she wants to commit to memory forever. It won’t be something she easily forgets. 

“Gotta speak up, babygirl. Especially if you want me to keep my attention focused on this pretty cunt of yours.” 

You sit between her legs, tilting your head, you look at her glistening pussy, the way it shines with her cum and your sloppy spit. It would look even more exquisite with a little more. Taking a beat as you take your time, you gather enough in your mouth before spitting slowly, Vi whimpering as your spit makes contact with her lower pair of lips. She couldn’t stop it, it slips and you’re grinning, hips desperately bucking to feel more of it. 

“F-Fuck, need your cock. Please? I need it more than anything.” Vi confesses. There’s no need for dignity, especially if she keeps it and you won’t give her what she’s itching for. 

“Yeah? Are you sure about it? Don’t want you backing out just in case you can’t be a good girl and take it.” 

She can take it but she can’t take the countless teasing, trapped underneath the images drowning in her mind. This is what she wants, someone to dissolve into her, make her forget everything that has happened, just a pretty girl with some pretty tits who knows how to fuck. Right? That’s all this is. It’s all it can be tonight. Her lip is busted from the fight tonight, knuckles bloodied and bruised, but you don’t seem to mind all that much. It’s all the same to you. Vi is all the same, that’s been clear from the start. 

Then, she decides to let her mind get shut off, let herself fall into you. You did know how to take care of her and tonight she would let you. 

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?” 

“I promise.” 

Once the harness is on, you wedge yourself in between her thighs, tattooed and toned, brave and brawny but she transforms into someone else entirely once you’re sinking inside her warm walls. You think about what it would feel like to feel her. Is she clenching around your cock? Would you feel the throbbing heartbreak of her clit? What you can hear is the whimper, uncontrollable and breathtaking, you slip further into her as you make home in her beautiful cunt. 

She’s made it yours to take. You’d do anything and everything for her, the thought alone scares so you do what you do best, you grind your hips slowly. Not wanting to overwhelm her too quickly, it’s the first time she’s taking penetration and you want it to be good for her. 

“You’re so perfect. Doing so good for me, taking my cock like a fucking champ.” You whisper out, taking too much enjoyment in her getting lost in your soft thrusts. Vi’s chest starts to heave as her hips roll into yours. Vi never even imagined wanting this, or that she could really have it with someone else. It’s not like she’s experienced, she has nothing to compare it to, but it feels incredibly intimate. 

She likes how you’re being with her. Soft, gentle, delicate. Vi thought she’d never want to feel that way, but maybe it’s just under the right circumstance in the right light. 

“Shit, shit, shit” Vi chants as your hand grabs the headboard, giving her one particular powerful thrust. Perky tits spring to life, jolting against the sudden movement, her moan so fucking load, as you continue your movements. This time not as hard, but you pick up your pace, wanting to see if she would have any arguments against it but Vi doesn’t. Profanities and whimpers leave her mouth as you split her on your cock. Face half-smashed into the pillow, trying to muffle her moans and you offer this one mercy. 

She’s still shy. 

Now is a good time as any to fuck it out of her. 

“Do you want more Vi? Want me to go…faster?” Placing a hand on her abdomen, the abs defined and clenching as you halt your thrust for a moment. “Do you wanna feel me in your stomach, baby?” 

“Can you even do that? I’m not so sure you’re even capable. Looks like the rookie knows more moves than the veteran.” Vi bites back. But it doesn’t last for long. Vi thinks she must have said the wrong thing, pushed you too far, you slipped off her but only to move her body to the edge of the bed, placing her on all fours right in front of a very convenient mirror. 

“Fine. Thought I’d be sweet but that isn’t what you really want. If you want to get treated like a whore, I’ll fuck you like one.” You take a beat to appreciate her wonderfully sculpted back, the artwork is truly exquisite. It feels so much like her but the foolish girl is smirking at you through the mirror. 

You know you’ve been caught ogling at her body, checking out every inch of her exposed body, you slap her ass in retaliation but she just grinds her ass back onto you. 

“I’m waiting.” Teasingly, Vi arches her spine more. “Where’s the whore fucking you’re muling about?” 

In one move, you’re inside her, fucking her beautiful face into the mattress. Never in her life has she felt so full, so good, so sweet. You grab her by the meat of her hips, bringing you back on her repeatedly. Vi wonders what she would give to have this, have you, and the thought scares her just as badly. She instead focused on you. 

Tits bouncing as you thrust into her at a punishing pace. Divinely and so perfectly you, making her see stars, she feels trapped. Not in a punishing way, but in a way that has her never wanting to leave the entrapments of your coaxing cock. At this moment, this is where she’s meant to be, just a toy for you to use. 

But it’s more than what meets the eye. If Vi was just a toy, you’d be done after the first night. Tonight, you weren’t using her for your own pleasure. You seemed perfectly content to give. The shine in her eyes gave you something only she could, edging you even further, a constant wave hitting Vi like a tidal wave making home on the shore. 

“God, you’re just too perfect. Fuck, just like that, take what’s yours.” Bouncing back on the strap, the words fall from her lips before she can’t stop them. Overflowing like a water fountain, it’s before she really even realizes what she’s saying, it just feels right. 

“Mommy, please.” 

Vi has had those words on the tip of her tongue but not that you’re fucking her into a different dimension, she lets the aching plea slip from sinful lips. It’s only once but it’s enough to set you off. You pull Vi up, her gorgeous back pressed against your chest, sitting on your thighs as you fuck up into her. Brutally, she takes everything you have to give. 

Sweat glistening across her body, accentuating her chest as she tries to compose herself  but you don’t give her the option. No. It would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

“I want you to watch, Violet. Watch yourself when you cum, be a good girl and show me how pretty you look, hm? Wouldn’t wanna disappoint, Mommy, now would you?” 

Vi sucks on your middle digit, tongues swirling as she feels the tight band in her stomach, threatening to snap. She’s close. When the sensationally soft pad of your thumb applies pressure on her clit, Vi’s done for. 

“Shit, oh my fucking god, baby baby babbyyyyy.” Incoherent murmurs and moans come in abundance as Vi bounces herself your cock, falling right apart as you toy with her clit, fucking her through the impending high. Your other arm tweaks around and up, fingers squeezing her tits, over stimulating her as she slumps against you. 

It’s the easiest task ever done. Submit to you, your skilled fingers, the power of your sinfully sensational thrusts, she comes all over you. The powerful demeanor weakens before your very eyes. When you gently move her back on the bed, slipping out of her, Vi’s eyes begin to water from the loss. 

The first time getting strapped down is always a lot to handle, you’d still taken it easier on her, too afraid you would push her too far but by the blissed out eyes, she’d enjoyed herself. She had enjoyed herself and you couldn’t really ask for much more. 

When the both of you are cleaned up, Vi cuddles into your frame and you let her. Even if your first instinct is to push her away, saying something you know that’ll hurt her, none of it finds any merit on your tongue. For the first time, you find it difficult to turn away a pretty girl, her lips kissing your collarbones, up your neck until she finds home on your own lips, sloppily invading your mouth with your tongue. 

Hitting you where it hurts, she moans your name in her mouth, unable to contain the neediness she feels around you. It’s worse than Cait. This is pure addiction entangled with something carnal. Vi knows if she doesn’t get to fuck you again, you fucking her cunt again, she might as well give up on life now. 

“I could go again.” 

You chuckle. Of course she could. 

“Don’t know rookie, that might be all you can handle for the night.” 

It’s a challenge and you know she’ll bite the bait. 

With ease she gets on top of you, and just as if she’s done it a hundred times, Vi sinks on your cock, “I think I can handle another ride, don’t you?” 

[likedaylighht]

Reminding myself constantly that I’m a real tough kid and I can handle my shit

[0bticeo]

lurk | feyd rautha

part 3 of five. (part 1.) (part 2.) (part 4.)

summary:

the baron is chuckling. you feel it coming, the sense of doom, in the way the court holds its breath, in the flash of uncertainty in the na-baron’s eyes.

“i have another gift for you.”

“her.”

you.

wc: 4k.

tw: blood, gore, possessive feyd rautha, bene gesserit shenanigans, determinism but make it sexy, bit of knife play, blood play, wound fucking, fingering, oral (fem recieving), somewhat sub feyd, breeding, inkpie, brief mention of cockwarming.

you’re kneeling. or rather, two guards are forcing you down on your knees, fingers digging in the meat of your shoulder until they reach the bone. you hold back a wince. 

you fail. 

your breath is heavy, stuttering little gasps leaving your lips with droplets of blood. your left side is on fire, each inhale pure, agonizing torture. use the voice and they’ll kill you.

you’re kneeling before baron vladimir harkonnen in his personal chambers, in a tattered robe. it’s filthy, the way he looks at you like you’re prized meat.

you bare your teeth.

“such defiance, atreides.” from the murky depths of his bath, he tilts his head. volutes of smoke escape his parted lips, slithering towards you. “tell me, why should i let you live?”

careful. 

plans within plans within plans. you can’t let your feeble control over the situation escape you. inhale. choke on your scream - like hell you’ll show him your pain.

“if i weren’t useful to your plans, i would be dead.”

an image flashes in your mind’s eye. a spider woven out of human flesh, the mangled bodies of harkonnen prisoners frankensteined together. barely alive. an eternity of torment.

the baron laughs, a deep, cavernous rumbling. it fills the penumbra, fills you with dread. your shoulders tense - nervous impulse. you’re not in control.

“fair enough.” he inches forward, the gigantic mass of him rippling through filthy waters. “where is your brother?”

pain. it ripples through you, sinks its claws in your chest and freezes there, a sinking weight. you can’t breathe. you push through.

“he’s already given his last breath to the sands of arrakis.”

“how would you know?”

“dreams.”

the answer escapes your gritted teeth with frightening rapidity. good. let him think pain clouds your judgment. let him see you as weaker than you really are. 

one of the guards tightens his hold, forces you to stand straight. blood drips down your lip. you will not scream.

“dreams?”

the subtle narrowing of his eyes. a quirk of his lip. disbelief. intrigue.

“i’ve followed my mother’s footsteps.” 

“ah, lady jessica.” 

keep her name out of your mouth. 

he leans back in the bathtub. silence settles. stretches. stretches. he’s pensive, the baron. his lips wrap at the end of the pipe, mouth like a maw swallowing it, releasing acrid smoke that burns you. spice.

(visions. shai hulud deemed your brother worthy. on they go. march south or die. maybe the sands haven’t consumed him yet.) 

nervous exhaustion settles in. they haven’t treated your wounds. it takes every ounce of energy to remain conscious, every inch of pride to will your muscles to stop trembling. your vision blurs at the edges.

“i’ll ask again, atreides. why should i let you live?”

bastard. you’re on your last legs. he has you cornered. 

“because you’d have to kill your heir if you don’t.”

now that catches his attention.

“go on.”

careful. there’s a thin line between usefulness and danger. do not step on the wrong side.

“he’s recognized me in the arena."

the ghost of his touch against the wicked scar of your forearm. the flash of a grin, black teeth like a promise inked at the back of your skull.

you fought well, atreides.

behind your back, your nails dig into your palms. 

“he’ll ruin you.”

“is that so?”

skepticism. amusement.

“do you think it wise to try and find out, baron?”

silence. fate looms over you. spins its web in the calculated gaze of the baron, gaze like cold steel cutting through you. 

your life is in his hands and he relishes in it. in having you, half bare before him, chest heaving with each stuttering breath, red darkening the black of your dress.

you watch him lick his lips and shiver with disgust.

“do you think it wise to threaten me when i have wiped your house from the surface of the known galaxy?”

oh, right on a silver platter.

your mouth drips shadows as you bare your teeth in a grin.

“only because you were backed up by the imperium and its sardaukar.” you cough. blood drips on the ground. “you were a pawn, and that scum of an emperor could deem you a threat, too.”

a beat.

he’s smiling.

“you’ll be of use, atreides.” 

a wave of his hand.

the guards move. drag you up until you’re standing on faltering legs. defiant, still. breath ragged, panting, blood pooling at your feet. you feel soiled, with the way the baron looks at you, eyes dragging down to your womb.

there’s a commotion behind you. you still. in your state, you’ve neglected to analyze your surroundings, only focusing on the biggest threat in the room. you didn’t take into account the harkonnen court behind you. atreides. the baron practically signed your death. 

shit.

your vision is darkening in the corners.

“i ought to drown you in that tub.”

feyd-rautha, voice a low growl borne out of primal fury. feyd-rautha, in dark robes, shadow among shadows. you catch the slow twitch of his pale hand, the instinctual gesture of nerves calling for a familiar blade. to kill or protect, you do not know.

the guards freeze. you’re left there, struggling to stand, sweat dripping down your back with the effort of staying upright. how utterly humiliating. 

“do not be hasty, my dear nephew.”

a ripple. the baron is chuckling. you feel it coming, the sense of doom, in the way the court holds its breath, in the flash of uncertainty in the na-baron’s eyes.

“i have another gift for you.”

“her.”

you. 

one step, two, until he’s facing you. 

he snarls at the guards. they let go of you. you collapse, only stopped from slamming upon the marble floors by two strong arms. 

he’s pulling you in his chest, arm wrapping around your waist. you shudder, nerves alight with the instinctual need to get away from this place, from the baron’s lecherous’ stare, from the court’s bloodlust. 

i must not fear. fear is the mind killer. fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. i will face my fear-

you don’t realize you’ve been shaking until a hand settles at the back of your head. warm. comforting. rubbing small circles in your scalp until you relax, if only by a fraction. he won’t let them harm you - you know it, deep in your soul. 

“yes, her.” dismissive. “and a bigger one. arrakis.”

you feel it, the way the na-baron’s body tenses, the ripple of the hard planes of his chest under the soft silk of his clothes. anticipation. unease. you press your cheek to his heart, listen to the erratic pulse of it.

“what about rabban?”

“he has failed to protect the spice production.”

paul. your fingers clench in your palm, piercing the skin.  

“tame arrakis feyd. free the spice, and i’ll make you emperor.”

you still. he who controls the spice has ultimate power over the known galaxy. power is power. knowledge is power.

“how?”

“use me.”

they still. rapt attention falls upon you. your fingers dig into the na-baron’s forearm like a vice to remain upright.

“if the great houses were to learn that the emperor ordered an entire house to be wiped out, they would question his authority. rebel. wage war until one comes on top.” you swallow blood. “you’ll have me as a living witness and weapon.”

“a weapon, huh?”

feyd-rautha looks down at you. there’s something awfully calculating in the way he assesses you, in the way his fingers curl over your hip - possessive. protective.

the baron rises by a fraction, mephistopheles bargaining.

“will you side with us, atreides?” 

you let out a shaky breath. laughter. you’re laughing at him, at the absurdity of the situation - you, last of your house, striking a deal with the devil for revenge.

“i will. i only ask for one thing in return - the emperor’s head.”

the baron’s gaze is riveted to you. he nods. bargain sealed.

“this must not leave this room.”

feyd-rautha springs into action, blades drawn out of their sheaths before the baron finishes his sentence.

bodies fall. 

carnifex. the butcher. oh, he’s gorgeous, feyd-rautha, twin blades slicing through gaping throats, droplets of blood landing on his pale cheek. 

the baron immerses himself in that wretched bath, until it’s only you and the apex predator that is him.

you take a step forward. two. three. until you’re facing him, slowly raising your hand. the motion alone has you gasping for breath. still, you persist, until your fingers settle on his cheek, thumb wiping away at the gore sprayed there. 

he leans into your touch, eyes half-lidded, nuzzling in your palm. his own hand cradles yours, warm, smearing blood on your skin. his lips press against your palm, against the many half-moons your nails have left in their wake. 

“come, my little atreides,” he mutters. “you need medical attention.” 

his eyes sink into yours, magnetic, all consuming. they dart to your parted lips, to the blood coating them. he leans in, breath like fire upon your soul, upon your awaiting mouth. 

your breath stutters.

oh.

“catch me, feyd.”

you fall. 

.

.

.

fall until you stand in the desert of arrakis. paul has his back turned to you, silhouette burning bright in your retina. corpses. they’re burning, all of them, and with the stench of sun-charred flesh rises a litany. lisan al gaib. 

lead them to paradise.

you want to scream. you want to reach out for cruel fate and rip her asunder with your bare hands until that twisted future is no more.

you do not know whether your brother is the kwisatz haderach. you do not know if there is a kwisatz haderach, what’s with the missionaria protectiva’s wretched tale.

warmth seeps in your womb, the gentle press of a lover’s hand. you do not know if the child you’ll bear will be the one. 

desert sands slips from your fingers.

you just want your family back. 

**

feyd doesn’t expect it, the moment you collapse in his arms with a whispered plea. still, he catches you. slides his arms under the back of your knees and pulls you close, where he knows no harm would come to you.

who would possibly dare to cross him? 

warmth spreads across his hand. blood, he realizes. your wound, that vicious strike of his hasn’t been treated. fury washes over him, gaping maw sinking in his heart. it is vicious, too, that fury.

it tells him of blood and death and destruction. death to the baron. death and misery upon those who’ve wronged you - doesn’t matter if he has to face the sardaukar, for he is legion. 

the hallways are empty. servants have long deserted the baron’s quarters, knowing not to disturb him. good. no one must know of your presence here. 

he looks down at you, at your wan face, at the blood dripping down your chin, spreading, spreading down your throat. 

he cannot let you die. 

he cannot compromise himself more than he already has by threatening the doctors to kill them should you die in their hands. he leaves you in their care and strides back to his own chambers. they’ll notify him of your condition. 

you, last atreides left standing. you, with your sharp wit, sharp blade and sharper smile. you, feral, snarling at him in the arena. you, hands dipped in ink darker than black, spreading it over his back. 

he had felt your warmth, back then. felt the softness of your skin on his, shivered as you ran over his deltoids, down to the rib - lower. each and every one of his nerves, raw, exposed, yearning for your touch. 

there had been a beat, a split second of hesitation on your part. blood calls for blood, and his house has spilled so much of your blood. it would have been easy for you to take a hold of his blade and sink it in his exposed back. 

he almost wanted you to do it.

(he had tilted his head, back then, a low growl leaving his lips at the mere thought of it. he could almost taste it, your sheer want.)

he, na-baron feyd-rautha harkonnen, lets his guard down, as if waiting for you to strike. why is that? 

his steps do not lead him to a place of honor. too much blood has been spilled in this palace - a tribute to harkonnen nature, really. verses upon verses of hymns interwoven with gore and the acrid scent of enemies torn asunder by their blades. hellish epics to those who died bloody.

retribution is second nature - and he expects it from you.

then why is he so soft around you?

you’re still an atreides. your only worth to his uncle as of now resides in this precise fact - that you remain a witness to your house’s demise. a hidden blade, ready to be sunk in the emperor’s back. 

his steps slow. 

there’s something.

you, standing in the arena, raising your head, voice distorted and hoarse, thousands of your foremothers screaming in righteous fury.

you will not perceive me as i am.

he hadn’t, not until his fingers met the jagged ends of your scar. 

a bene gesserit trick.

“are you lost, my lord na-baron?”

a silhouette in the shadows, shrouded in veils. he can only make out a smile - sweet, charming. not enough to conceal the sharpness beneath. witch. 

he remains silent. 

“what will you do with lady atreides?”

his resolve weakens. here, in the dead silence of the hall, he speaks:

“she will be mine.” a beat. the nervous twitch of his fingers, aching for a blade. “is it not what you intended, witch?”

he knows she is smiling, the bene gesserit facing him. 

plans within plans within plans. atreides, harkonnen, corrino, dozens of great houses and they’re none the wiser.

“it was.”

**

none of it is real, it is all an illusion - your touch is wrong, your judgment unjust, faltering. dreams have meaning, this must be one. you can still taste the sands of arrakis, hear the screams of the billions of people starving, begging-

you rise in your bed - information flashes.

a bed. bandages wrapped tightly around your side. harsh, cold walls. antiseptic. blood - a medical wing. 

feyd rautha.

you startle. he’s watching you, head slightly tilted to the side. assesses you still, gaze raking over the thin fabric of the covers.

his gaze is free to roam the expanse of your bare throat, to trail down to the dips of your collarbones, to the swell of your naked breasts. you shiver.

“is the sight to your liking, my lord na-baron?”

a chuckle like a rattlesnake. he steps closer, until he’s all but hovering above you, hand lightly pressing down on the mattress below.

“will you have me, my wife?”

you blink.

“we’re not-”

his fingers run up your wrist, press against the long scar marring your forearm. 

“does it truly matter? you were made to be mine.” slowly, he sinks to his knees, glacier eyes smoldering in the penumbra. “and i was made to be yours.”

generations of prefect planning for this - you, last atreides left standing, and him, feyd rautha harkonnen, alone in the same room, bred for one another, for the kwisatz haderach to be conceived.

you raise your hand, cradling his cheek.

“have me, feyd-rautha.”

he presses a kiss to your palm, your inner wrist. he grins, black teeth like a gaping maw ready to sink into the marrow of you. your pulse jumps at that, rabbit-quick against the thin skin of your wrist. he feels it, with the way his thumb presses down on the delicate flesh. 

his hand slithers under the covers, drags them down, until your side is completely exposed. he presses a kiss there, too, on the stitched up wound at your side. it’ll scar. a living, breathing reminder of him, of the kiss of his blade on your skin. the weapon is in his hand before you know it, slicing through bandages.

you feel his breath before you feel the press of his lips on your side. you gasp, fingers reaching for him, digging in his nape.

his tongue meets raw flesh, teeth worrying at the stitches until they snap. his nail rakes the cut, spreads its edges apart until liquid warmth blossoms at your side, trickling down your ribs. 

you scream.

his lips slam against your own. warm. scorching. bruising. he presses himself to you like he wants to sink in the marrow of you and taste.

your hand raises to his chest, a meek press against his heart, fingers weaving with the velvet shadows of his jacket. 

closer.

he growls. low, primal, needy. pushes his fingers in the gaping wound at your side - white hot pain surges through you. your mind grows blank. agony never felt so sweet. 

your lips part in a cry - he swallows it down with greedy laughter. 

you feel him smile against your lips, tongue reaching out for yours. heavy. you bring him closer. his hand twists, index curling up. you think he wants to reach your heart and never let go.

“feyd-”

he stills. nips at your lip one last time, backing away. a spider-web string of saliva links you both. he brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting you with a low hum. desire curls inside your lower belly.

“more,” you beg.

“where?”

you take his hand, bring it between your thighs, face heating up. he’s laughing, feyd rautha, the tip of his blood-soaked fingers brushing your cunt. 

you gasp at that, at the way he spreads you apart, sinks into you with shameless abandon. you whine as you feel his fingers curl oh so sweetly.

he’s watching you. leaning closer and closer, until you can feel his breath on your inner thigh, until- 

until his lips press against your heat, tongue lapping at you. you mewl, hand pressing him closer, nails sinking into his nape. you feel him growl against you, a low, needy sound as he tastes you, consumes you, tongue flicking against your clit.

something’s building in you, agonizingly warm, blistering fire spreading over your skin. a low vibration.

he’s purring, you realize, eyes closed in bliss as he laps at you, tongue delving into you, your essence running down his chin. you bite your lip until you taste blood. 

it’s all too much.

the way his fingers have you keening his name like holy prayer. the way his tongue burns a path of desire over your slit, skilled little licks having you thrash in his grip, the low vibration of his purr having you squirming in his grasp. his free hand tightens around your thigh, pulls you closer. 

his gaze flits to yours, glacier eyes melting under the weight of his desire. 

you cum with a whine of his name, a plea for him to stop, to give you more, to please please please, keep touching you. 

his eyes roll in the back of his skull at that. at the sight of you, lips parted in sinful euphoria, head thrown back under a tidal wave of pleasure. more. he needs more.

he grasps your hand, presses it against the length of his clothed cock, hard, throbbing, yearning for your touch.

“will you have me?”

“yes.”

as it was meant to be. him and you, bodies pressed so close nothing could come between the two of you, your nails digging in his back as he eases himself into you with a low hiss of pleasure.

him, pressing his lips in the crook of your neck, teeth nibbling at the tender flesh as his hips slowly rock into you.

“mine,” he growls, forehead against yours, picking up his pace until you’re gasping for breath. “mine.”

you close your fingers around his. press a kiss to his lips - you’re so full, so delectably full, your legs crossing over his lower back, driving him closer still.

his teeth break your skin, your lips painted over in blood. the sight has him moaning, reaching out between your legs to rub at your clit until you’re keening his name.

his release follows yours - he groans your name in the crook of your neck, hips stuttering madly against yours. 

your breaths mingle - two pieces of the same puzzle slotting against one another. complete. you’re whole, pressed against the broad expanse of his chest, his cock settled snugly in your pussy.

you can almost feel it, the satisfied smile of the reverend mother. an heir has been secured, deep in the confines of your womb, growing, second after second. a boy - the kwisatz haderach.

that wretched eons long plan doesn’t matter. not now, not when you run your knuckles against the sharp edge of his jaw, marveling at him.

“mine,” you mutter.

taglist: @kpopnstarwars @jaiuneamesolitaiire

[stevesbipanic]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 1: Second Chance

Eddie had always pretended he was living life without any regrets.

After all that's why he was chasing an impossible dream of being a rockstar, it's why he jumped on tables and fought for his club, it's why he told his uncle about the boy he kissed when he showed up on his doorstep battered and bruised.

He thought he'd die one day without an ounce of regret. But laying in a young boy's arms, in the darkest depths of hell, choking on his own blood, all he could think of was what he'd have done differently.

He's not mad he didn't run, he'd do it all again to protect Dustin, to protect his home even when it's turned against him. He doesn't regret making Chrissy laugh in the woods rather than turning her away. No, he doesn't regret all that, he regrets everything in between.

Regrets running from the trailer, leaving his uncle to deal with the fall out. Regrets not apologising to Lucas, being mad about basketball seems so silly now. Regrets giving Dustin this last memory of him.

Most of all, he regrets Steve.

He doesn't regret selling him weed after the mall burnt down, or kissing him a month later. Doesn't regret bringing him to every show even if the crowd was small. Doesn't regret every smile, every touch.

He regrets not kissing him goodbye, when he knew he wouldn't survive the battle. He regrets that he'll be cold and gone before he gets back. He regrets that he didn't get to tell Steve he loves him, too scared, too afraid Steve would run like him.

He can hear Steve's voice in the distance, but it's so far away now. He regrets not staying a few seconds longer, he regrets that he won't get to stay.

.

..

...

He'd thought the afterlife would be warmer than this, especially if the town had been right and he got sent to hell. The air feels cold, the world too bright even with his eyes closed.

"Eddie?"

Ah, must be heaven, there's no sweeter sound than his personal angel.

Wait, no, Steve didn't die.

Eddie braves the light, blinking his eyes slowly open. The interior of a hospital room slowly comes into focus, and there he is, his Stevie, he's crying.

"Why are you crying, baby?" His voice is rough. That doesn't seem to stop the tears even as Steve chokes a sad laugh.

"I thought I'd lost you, I thought I wouldn't get to tell you I love you," he says, voice catching halfway through as he grips Eddie's hand.

"I was supposed to say it first, it was my dying wish, Stevie!"

Steve gives him a gentle flick, clearly not appreciating the joke.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I love you too, I'm sorry I almost didn't get to tell you."

"It's ok, Eds, you're here now."

And Eddie wasn't going to waste his second chance, he was going to spend every day telling Steve how much he loved him and he wouldn't regret another moment.

Welcome back to another month long event and this time it's my very own event!

[letstevengrantsleep]

Speak Your Truth

Spencer Reid x f!feader

Summary: Spencer has just got out of prison, and you see him for the first time in months

Word count: 699

Warnings: fluff, implication of sexual activity if you squint

a/n: I've been watching a ridiculous amount of criminal minds recently and holy mother of god this man has had me in a choke hold

masterlist

"He's out?" You almost sob, stumbling back into your chair beside Garcia.

"This morning. He's on his way home right now, should be at his apartment soon." Penelope held out her hands for you to take,

"Oh my god... Garcia I - I don't know what to do, I-"

"Honey, if you don't get in your car right now and go see him, I'll never forgive you."

-

"Spence!" You scream, running like your life depends on it down drab corridors, hoping to catch up with Spencer and the arresting officers before they take him away.

There's nothing you can do as you reach him but try your best to take in every detail of his face, his figure, everything about him as if it's the last time you'll ever see him again.

"Spencer... I don't know what to do, what can I do?"

"You're okay, I'm okay. Make sure my mum's safe, yeah? Can you do that for me?"

Nodding, tears forming in the corers of your eyes, "yeah Spence I can do that."

There's something left unsaid between the two of you, and the officers either side of Reid are beginning to get impatient. As they begin to pull him away from you, the fear of losing him hits you like a tidal wave.

"Spence, I-"

He shakes his head knowingly, "tell me when I get out, okay?"

-

There's two things stopping you from breaking down in tears as you reach Spencer's apartment door: the loving face of his elderly neighbour passing you in the hall, and the knowledge that everything can begin to get back to normality once you see his face again.

After knocking on his door you stand shifting your weight on your feet, anxious to see the state that Spence has been left in whilst in prison. It's only a few more seconds before he opens it, immediately securing your gaze as he lets out a content sigh, pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

"I missed you." Is all he says as he steps back into his apartment, pulling you with him as his grip on you doesn't give.

"Oh Spence, you have no idea. We fought so hard for you, I-" you pull away to look him in the eye, hands gripping at the lapel of his jacket. No words follow, just silence as you stare at each other, the unsaid hanging heavy in the air.

"I know, I know..." his hands reach up to your face, tucking stray hair behind your ears, "me too."

Closing your eyes, you allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of having him back, as though nothing had ever taken him away in the first place.

Your eyes shoot back open in surprise as you feel his lips on your forehead, "Spencer..."

"I'm sorry, I just-"

You cut him off by pulling him down and crashing your lips into his, trying hard to pour every ounce of emotion you feel towards him into this one kiss, hoping it'll be enough for him to understand.

Spencer responds by wrapping his arms tight around your figure, whimpering into the kiss as it deepens.

Nothing could have prepared you for how reactive Spencer is, how he sighs at your touch and tries to pull you impossibly closer into him when you run your hands over his chest. The way he runs his hand up to gently tug at the hair at the base of your head...

It's over all too quick as he pulls away, mouth open, eyes searching your face.

"While I was in prison, I had a lot of time to think... about the things I wish I'd done, the things I could be doing..." he trails off, looking you up and down. "I can't keep pretending that we're not made for each other, baby, I can't keep pretending that I don't want you. In every way I can, any way you'll let me."

"Have me." You say, throwing caution to the wind and acting on every instinct you've got. "I'm yours, Spence."

"Oh baby," he whispers, dragging a thumb over your lips as he leans in, "I'll be so good, I promise, so good for you."

[meazalykov]

Her victory, my defeat

Salma Paralluelo x LionessesPlayer!R

warnings: sadness with a mix of love and hope :)

My nerves were suppressed when I stood by the front of the goal post, a corner kick for my team was being taken. The minutes were counting down until the end. I am in my dream, the dream that is starting to feel like a nightmare. 

I stood on the pitch, surrounded by a sea of cheering fans. It was the World Cup final—the pinnacle of my soccer career. Every ounce of sweat, every sacrifice, every early morning training session had led me to this moment. The tension in the air was palpable, as if the entire world had stopped to witness this match.

England vs. Spain. One of us was going to win. 

By us… I mean my beautiful girlfriend Salma, who plays for Spain, or me, who plays for England.

That realization before the game hit deeply. The thoughts of how our relationship would continue onwards, whoever won or lost, started to put pressure onto my feelings.

The pressure got more intense when the actual match started. Right now its the 104th minute and my teammate observed the pitch, deciding where to kick her corner kick. My mind flashed to all of our practices throughout these three years before the World Cup. The Lionesses’ and I poured our hearts and souls into every pass, every tackle, every shot on goal. 

As the corner kick was taken, I jumped high. I knew this was the highest I've jumped in my entire life. However, the ball barely slipped over my head. When I turned around, following the ball mid-air and noticed the ball in Cata Coll’s hands, England’s potential victory slipped through our fingers like sand.

The final whistle blew, and the deafening roar from the Spanish crowd turned into silence in my head. Tears welled up in my eyes as I watched the opposing team, aka my close friends, achieve their dreams. I am happy for them, but It felt like a punch to the gut. This is a crushing blow that knocked the wind out of me, my lungs felt closed in.

As a little girl, I dreamed of being here. I dreamed of being with the English and driving us to win the World Cup. I’ve imagined myself holding the trophy in my hands and smiling brightly, making my loved ones proud. 

The realization sank in slowly, like a cruel joke unfolding before my eyes. Maybe I wasn’t as good as I thought I was. We had come so close, we fought so hard, only to fall agonizingly short. The dreams we had dared to dream, the hopes we had nurtured, all shattered in an instant.

When I saw the Spanish girls jump on top of each other into a pile, I shook my head and walked over to the benches. I knew it was football, you can’t win them all. However, this is the one I wanted to win most. 

Taking my half pink half blue puffer jacket, I put it on backwards so the hoodie covered my face. Once my face was concealed, the tears poured down my dimpled cheeks.

I cried more because I wanted to be happy too. Salma Paralluelo, my lovely girlfriend who I fell in love with one year ago, just achieved her biggest dreams. I couldn’t look out of the hoodie and see her, but I hope she is in the pile of happy players and proud of her dreams coming true. 

My Barcelona teammates who currently play on the Spain team just achieved their dreams too. Being happy for them would’ve been easy if I wasn't on the losing end. I hope they don’t see me here, I don’t want them to pity me. 

Lucy Bronze and Keira Welsh, my teammates on the club and national teams, might feel the same way I do. 

The Spanish girls were in a state of happiness and disbelief. Salma stood up after having five players jump on top of her in the pile. She wiped off her jersey and hugged Cata Coll, who saved the ball in the last corner kick. 

Salma had the brightest smile, tears of joy nearly poured out of her eyes. She knew that she completed a goal that many won’t have the chance to compete for. 

Amid the sea of elation, a crushing realization went through Salma’s head. She felt her heart ache when she thought about y/n, the #1 love in her life. The h/c girl is somewhere in the stadium feeling defeated, while she is feeling ecstatic over her win. 

The Spanish girl tried her best to not let Y/n get into her head in the final. They’ve both agreed that during the final, they would both play as if they didn’t know the other. Which means that no feelings would get in the way of decision-making in the final. 

Salma’s eyes roamed around the stadium before looking toward England's bench. She saw Ona Batlle, her teammate on the Spain squad, comforting her girlfriend Lucy who played for England. The brown skin girl then looked ahead of the couple to see a girl with her legs crossed, puffy jacket on backwards to block her face, and her hands constantly going to rub her eyes through the jacket. She knew it was Y/n.  

At that moment, she felt the mix of joy and concern as she rushed over to Y/n, her own triumph momentarily forgotten.

In a quick second, she got lower in front of Y/n and wrapped her arms around her. Salma held her close, offering a silent embrace amidst the loud cheers. Y/n knew it was Salma due to her relaxing natural scent. She buried her face in Salma’s shoulder, the warmth of her touch offering peace while y/n’s mind went into chaos.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," Salma whispered softly, her voice barely audible above the roar of the crowd. "I know how much this meant to you."

Y/n clung to Salma, the weight of her sorrow heavy upon her shoulders. Y/n felt terrible, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for dampening Salma's victory with her own pain.

“You should be celebrating. Don’t let my sadness ruin your victory. I’ll get over this soon.” Salma heard Y/n’s muffled voice through her jacket hoodie. The girl in the red jersey lightly pulled Y/n’s hoodie off of her face. The English girl’s red eyes, puffy cheeks, and long damp lashes were visible to her. Salma looked into her eyes and gave a sympathetic smile. 

Y/n tried to lightly pull her girlfriend’s hands off of her, knowing that she should celebrate the World Cup win instead. However, Salma resisted her pull and held her tighter, knowing that her presence would bring light to Y/n’s darkness. 

As the world celebrated around them, Y/n found solace in the arms of the woman she loved. Even in defeat, Salma and Y/n’s bond remained unbreakable. Y/n will go on to celebrate Salma and her club teammates' World Cup win, understanding that making it to the final is an achievement itself 

<3

[claws-and-quills]

Stay With Me

A/N: This was a little more self-indulgent for me, ngl. Old Man Logan seriously deserves more love and attention.

CW: mentions of blood, old scars, talks of death

Word Count: 1,391

Genre: Angst and Fluff

Everything felt like a blur. Where had the time disappeared over the years? You clenched your teeth, looking at your beaten and bloodied reflection staring back at you in the mirror. Your hands still trembled with shock, pain, and adrenaline. Your stomach churned at the sight. Blood stained your blouse that was now riddled with bullet holes.

“Logan?” You finally work up the courage to call out to him. The back of your throat burned with unspoken emotions. You could hear the soft grunts echoing down the hallway; your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach. “Logan?!”

Swallowing thickly, you rush out of the room. How long have you been out? An audible gasp falls from your lips at the sight of him slumped tiredly against the wall. He looked to be in just as bad of shape as you, if not worse. You fall to your knees in front of him, tenderly cupping his cheeks in your hands. His gaze meets yours, a soft grimace at his lips.

“Hey…m’not dead yet. I'm not that easy to kill just yet,” He cups your cheek in his hand. Your stomach tied itself into knots at his words. Time has been so cruel to you, and to especially Logan; the reality felt like a swift kick to your gut.

“Don't say that. I know you're no spring chicken, but….that's something I'd rather not think about…” Your eyes remain focused on his, searching his features, memorizing every scar, every crease, every perfect little imperfection. 

A quiet chuckle rumbles in his chest; though, he immediately winces at the movement. Life had been so much darker, harder even ever since the X-Men had slowly dwindled and smoldered down to mere foggy memories. You slowly take one of his hands into both of yours and tenderly kiss his knuckles. Tears picked the corners of your eyes. This was never how you imagined life would be; not like this, not living day to day with fear of the unknown. It felt as though it took every ounce of your energy not to let the tears fall from your eyes and down your cheeks.

Logan furrows his brows tightly as he watches you. His eyes, though tired and painful, soften at the sight of you. He could smell the fear, the pain, and the relief that radiated from your body. He cups your cheek with his other hand. His fingers were rough and calloused against the tender skin of your cheek, but you didn't mind it one bit. You lean into his touch, savoring how his hand felt on your skin, how his natural scent still held onto the aroma of rustic oak, leather, and a touch of mint.

“Hey…m'just a little banged up. Don't heal like I used to before. It's going to take more than this to keep me down…” His voice was soft, hoarse even as he fought to speak through the pain. You knew he was right, though. You were blessed and cursed to see him over the decades, centuries even,  as time slowly kept its way onto his face and across his body. You nod stiffly, slowly opening your tearful eyes to meet his gaze. “C'mon, don't cry. Hey…I'm still alive now, aren't I? Don't cry, Pretty Girl. Please…”

“Lo…” You croak, your voice shaky and uncertain. Your eyes finally open and rest on his tired face. You slowly get to your feet, tugging at his hand to try to get him to follow. Just as in your younger days, he refused to budge at first. Grunting, he slowly gets to his feet, and the small clink of spent bullets hitting the ground followed him through his movements. “You look a mess…” your voice was hushed, barely a whisper. The expression in your eyes told Logan everything he needed to know and hear. He didn't try to put up a fight, nor did he try to give you a hard time; in a rare moment, he let you lead him away to be properly cared for.

You cover your mouth to keep another gasp at bay after you have worked his bloodied beater up and over his head, revealing the bullets that were still lodged deep within his chest, arms, and abdomen. It was painful for you to watch as he struggled to force the bullets out from the wounds they had left behind within his skin and body. The breath you were holding became stuck in your throat, almost suffocating you as you watched in painful silence.

“Lo…” you say softly and slowly wrap your arms around him from behind. His skin was hot against your cheek as you rested your cheek against his bare back. Hot tears began to roll down your cheeks. You couldn't hold it back any longer; the pain became too much to hold back. You press a tender kiss against his back between his shoulder blades, followed by another over an old scar that had been left behind from what you only imagined had been a sentinel. With every metallic clink that came from the bullets that fell into the sink, you could feel Logan's body tense and relax, forcing the bullets out.

He slowly rests his hands on top of yours; his fingers tenderly caressing your arms. For a second, you could have sworn you heard him exhale a shaky breath before he turned to face you. His eyes were soft and concerned; his gaze tenderly fixed on you. Your eyes finally meet his. He looked tired, pitiful even. It felt as though a thorn bush had wrapped its thorns around your heart, tearing into it with every beat.

“Stay with me…please…” The words fell from your lips without a single thought. He tenderly takes your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head up towards his.

“I'm not going anywhere…hey…I promise, I'll never let go…” He rasps softly against the top of your head. His lips press a tender kiss to the crown of your head as he wraps his arms around you tightly. “How bad is it…did they hurt you…”

You shake your head against his chest. Parts of you were unsure as to how much of the blood that was on you was yours or the agents that had hunted you and Logan down. You didn't care if you were injured; all you knew in that moment was that you didn't want to let go of him. A soft breath catches in your throat at the sensation of his fingers hooking into the bottom of your blouse, tugging it up your body to be gently pulled up over your head and gently dropped onto the floor. Your wounds had healed for the most part, but you still appeared to be in rough shape.

“I'm okay…I…let me help you…please…” You speak softly, to which Logan nods. Standing on your tiptoes, you place a chaste and tender kiss on his lips. His arms snake back around your body, pulling you in close against his chest.

“Only if you let me help you…” He murmured into the kiss. His thumbs rub small circles onto your hips. You finally nod, sniffling as he pressed his forehead against yours.

Once in the shower together, the hot water felt heavenly against your and his sore body. The pain in his eyes faded away as he watched you. His eyes close at how tenderly you caress his chest, pressing a chaste kiss over his heart. A soft, quiet, appreciative moan rumbles deep in his throat near the top of his chest as you start to wash the dried blood away from his chest and arms. It was the small intimate moments like this that made him fall in love with you all over time and time again.

“I'm sorry, Darlin’...” His voice is soft. You lift your gaze to see him watching you with soft, loving eyes. “I'm sorry you have to endure this…all of this…”

His words felt like a hot poker had been stabbed through your heart. You shake your head slowly. “I would rather go through 1,000 hells with you than live in a 1,000 heavens without you…”

He cups your cheeks in his hands, pulling you in close for a tender kiss. “I love you…”

“I love you too, Logan. Always and forever…” You whisper softly against his lips.

[futurewdclandonorris]

Silver Springs | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x ex!fem!reader

Requested: yes

Warnings: angsty with a hopeful ending

A/N: This is my first request ever and I hope I managed to fulfill the expectations. I took a little liberty and played with the style and format and just listening and studying the song made me want to write it this way. I'm sorry if this isn't what anon had in mind when requesting this so with that make sure to leave as much details as possible when requesting things if you want something specific. Feedback on this would be very much appreciated. 🥺🧡

You’ve found yourself thinking about Lando more regularly as of late. It has been ten months since your break up and you don’t remember feeling like this at the time. You guess you were in a state of denial, trying to convince yourself that the relationship was worth saving despite knowing that it wasn’t.

Of course, in the beginning everything was like a fairy tale. At first it was so wonderful that every ounce of you was convinced that it couldn't possibly get any better. And then, slowly, inevitably, the house of cards collapsed. Maybe that should've been your first clue, but every time you would stick your rose colored glasses further up your nose and focus harder on all those positive aspects of the relationship.

Time spent with Lando was the best time of your life. He always gave you the best he could offer. Taking you out on dates, vacations, accompanying him to races across the world... He truly gave you that only-girl-in-the-world experience. He was always there, present. Until he wasn't.

You knew what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Lando Norris. But there was no way you could've prepared yourself for how it would all end up.

He was a Formula One driver and his life was always going to be busy. The paparazzi, the rumors, the constant pressure of being in the public eye. It all took a toll on your relationship.

But what you didn't anticipate was how much time he would start spending away from you. It started off with a few missed calls and texts, but soon he was gone for days at a time without a word.

You tried to be understanding, knowing how demanding his job was, but it was hard not to feel neglected and unimportant. You tried to talk to him about it, but he always seemed to have an excuse or an apology that would temporarily ease your worry.

As the months went on, you began to realize that the relationship was becoming more and more one-sided. You were always the one making compromises, always the one putting in the effort to make things work.

One night, as Lando was getting ready to leave for yet another race, you finally confronted him about it. You told him how you felt and how you needed more from him. But instead of trying to work things out, he simply brushed you off and left without a second thought.

For the first time, you began to wonder if maybe it was time to let go. Maybe it was time to walk away from a relationship that was causing you more pain than happiness.

It wasn't an easy call. You were still in love with him and a part of you wanted to believed that he loved you too. But you couldn't keep living like that when you knew you deserved more. So, after a lot of tears and internal conflict, you made the decision to end things with him.

He took it calmly. “Maybe it’s for the best. We’re at different stages in life-”

But you weren’t interested in reasoning. You were done.

Few days later as you sat alone in your room thinking about him, you couldn't help but wonder if it could all be different. Maybe if you had just tried harder, fought for the relationship a little more, things could've ended up differently. Maybe you could've been the one he came home to every night, instead of just another girl in his life. But relationships were a two way street and you couldn’t do it just on your own.

Months went by and slowly but surely, you started to heal. You threw yourself into work and hobbies, spending time with friends and family. You had to reduce your social media and tv time, fearing you’d accidentally see something about him, or maybe even search up his name on your own that would ruin all the progress you just made. Mutual friends had to be cut off too. Everything that even had a slightest relation to him had to be eliminated from your life so you wouldn't crumble back into old habits.

Finally, you were ready to try dating again. It felt strange to be putting yourself out there again, going out on dates here and there. And although nothing ever really clicked, it was working to distract and make you forget. Up until now.

He just crept into your thoughts on a random Tuesday. You scoffed, shaking them away. Then little (in)significant things started to happen. Like seeing number 4 everywhere in various combinations. You would turn on the radio and first thing you’d hear would be the song you two proclaimed to be yours one drunk night in a bar.

“Are you kidding me?!” you spat, turning the radio off. It wasn’t even a love song.

Dreams began next and they were so life-like that it was almost as if you had gone back in time. They would be so vivid, reminding you of his touch and sound of his voice. In one of them, you would be back together and he would be holding you in his arms. You’d feel safe and loved, just like you used to. One of those nights you woke up to the sound of his laughter echoing in your ears, but when you turned over it was just you and the void of the bedside he used to fill. Your eyes shifted to a digital clock on the nightstand. In hauntingly bold red it read 04:44 am.

And you really should’ve known better than to turn the tv on on weekends. Not every weekend, you reminded yourself, but really, what were the odds that you would catch him racing that Sunday?

You tried your best to ignore it all. Tried to push Lando back to the farthest corners of your mind. But every time you tried, he came back stronger, like a boomerang you couldn't escape from. It was like he was haunting you, his memory a ghost that refused to be exorcised.

It was frustrating. It was maddening. You didn't want to think about him anymore. You didn't want to care. You didn't want to love him.

When it all became too much, you decided to go for a walk to clear your head. You grabbed your coat and headed out the door, the cold afternoon air hitting you as you stepped outside. As you walked down the street, you realized that you were headed in the direction of the park where you and Lando used to go on picnics and take walks together. There was no point in avoiding going there now. Every part of the town was marked with the two of you in one way or the other.

As you walked through the park, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over you. You remembered how happy you used to be with Lando by your side, how the two of you laughed and talked for hours on end. You wondered if he ever thought about those moments, if he ever missed you. If he ever thought about you just in general. Your heart felt heavy as you thought about how things could have been different if only he had been willing to put in more effort into your relationship.

A sudden movement caught your eye and you turned to see a man walking towards you, his eyes locked onto yours. Your heart leaped out of your chest and you found yourself frozen in place. But the man who passed you wasn’t him. He might’ve had his hair or his eyes, but it wasn’t him. You closed your eyes and sighed a sigh of relief.

I’m starting to see things now, you thought to yourself, shaking the image away. You weren’t sure if you were ready for that type of encounter just yet anyway.

After a few minutes, you continued on your way and eventually found yourself in front of a cozy cafe. You looked up at the simple yet inviting storefront and decided this was as good a place as any to take a break. You opened the door and stepped inside, the warm atmosphere immediately embracing you like an old friend.

The cafe was quite busy with customers, but despite the crowd it still had an intimate feel to it. The smell of fresh coffee accompanied by the sound of jazz music created a relaxed atmosphere that made you forget all about your worries for a while. You walked up to the counter and ordered a cup of your favorite coffee blend before sitting down at one of the tables in the far corner.

-

He had thought about you a lot that summer. It wasn't just the memory of you that lingered in his mind; it was the way you made him feel. He missed the way your hand fit perfectly in his, and the sound of your laughter that could light up a room. He missed the long conversations you used to have over the phone when he was away, and the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about something you were passionate about.

He had missed you, more than he was willing to admit to himself. He had tried to ignore his feelings, to push them down and pretend that he was perfectly okay without you. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the memories of your time together.

Sometimes the air would smell like your hair, the wind would caress his cheeks like you used to. He remembered the picnics in the park, the late night conversations, the lazy Sunday mornings spent cuddled up in bed on his weekends off before he would have to pack for another race week. He remembered how happy he used to be with you by his side, and he cursed himself for not realizing how much he needed you until it was too late.

Being without you on tracks was the worst. He didn’t know it would be like that when he had you calling before and after every session, giving him a false sense of security. He was racing for himself, building his career, but  he couldn't focus on anything else. The roar of the engines and the adrenaline rush of it all losing their appeal without you there to share it with him. He had to force himself to keep going, to keep racing, but every achievement felt hollow without you to celebrate with him.

But he never reached out to you. He never tried to make things right, even when he knew he was wrong. He was too prideful, too scared of rejection, too afraid of admitting that he had made a mistake. So he stayed away, hoping that time and distance would heal the wounds.

It was late autumn now and after yet another decent weekend, he decided to fly home for his week off and recharge. Maybe time spent with family and friends would help and stop you from creeping in his thoughts.

As he settled into his seat on the plane, he couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness. His career progressed drastically since your split, but what did it matter? He only had himself to share his success with.

The flight was uneventful, and before he knew it, he was back in his hometown. He stepped off the plane and was greeted by the familiar faces of his family. Their hugs and laughter made him realize he was making yet another mistake. He missed you more than ever, and being home without you will only make it worse.

Lando tried to keep busy by spending time with his loved ones and focusing on his training. But it was like trying to hold back the tide with a broom, he couldn't escape the memories of you. The sound of your voice, the touch of your hand, the warmth of your embrace. It was all too vivid in his mind, haunting him day and night.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, he drove out in his car, desperate to find a way to move on. He had no destination in mind, and maybe driving to clear his head wasn’t ideal, but it was the only other thing he loved that he had left. And it was like universe was having a laugh at him, when he turned on the radio it was your song that was playing. He thought of changing the station, but his fingers lingered too long in the air over the button that he ended up listening to the whole thing.

As the last notes of the song faded away, Lando let out a heavy sigh and pulled over to the side of the road. He found himself parked in front of a cozy cafe that he had never noticed before. It looked warm and inviting, the smell of coffee wafting out to greet him. He found himself drawn to it, like a moth to a flame.

Without much thought, he opened the door and stepped inside. The sound of jazz music greeted him, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of calm wash over him as he took in the warm atmosphere. He walked up to the counter and ordered a cup of coffee before finding a seat at one of the tables.

Looking around, he spotted you purely accidentally, sipping coffee and reading a book. His heart skipped a beat as he watched you sit alone in the far corner. You looked beautiful, just as he remembered, with your hair falling in loose waves around your face. He couldn't believe it was you. The one person he had been thinking about for months was sitting just a few tables away from him.

He couldn't take his eyes off you, his heart racing with emotions he thought he had buried deep within. He tried to catch your eye, but you didn't look up from the book. He felt his heart sink as he realized that you didn't even know he was there.

Lando hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Part of him wanted to approach you and try to start a conversation, while the other part of him couldn't bear the thought of seeing you again after all this time. He had hurt you deeply, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to face the consequences of his actions.

But as he sat there, lost in thought, he suddenly realized that he couldn't just sit idly by and watch you from a distance. He had to do something, even if it meant facing his fears head-on. It was now or never.

He got up from his seat and slowly walked over to your table, his heart beating faster with every step. You finally looked up from your book as he approached, your eyes widening in surprise as you saw who was standing in front of you.

-

“What are you doing here?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Quickly you made a mental check on what day it was. Early Friday evening.

Lando sighed, nerves getting the best of him as he stood before you. “I’m… I came home for my week off.” he said, his voice sounding small and unsure.

“You have a week off,” you weren’t sure if you were asking him, accusing him, laughing at your own stupidity or a secret fourth thing.

He shifted awkwardly on his feet, his eyes unable to meet yours. “You’re saying it like it’s a crime,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I just didn’t expect to see you here on a weekend.” you defended, realizing you were setting yourself for a trap. Not every weekend.

“Were you hoping I was out of the country?” he asked, his tone laced with sarcasm. He knew he was being defensive, but he couldn't help it. Being around you made him feel vulnerable, exposed.

Lando's question hung heavily in the air, his eyes still fixed on you. You felt a pang of guilt, knowing full well that you had been hoping to avoid him for a little while longer. But now that he was standing in front of you, you couldn't deny the pull you still felt towards him.

"I don't know what I was hoping for," you admitted, your eyes finally meeting his. "I just know I didn't expect to see you here."

"Neither did I," he said softly, taking a step closer to you. "But now that I am, can we talk?"

You looked at him for a moment, taking in the sight of him. He looked good, but different somehow. He seemed more vulnerable, more open than you remembered. It made your heart ache for him, but you tried to push the feeling away.

"Okay," you said, nodding your head. "Let's talk."

Lando let out a sigh of relief, his tense shoulders relaxing as he took a seat opposite of you.

“So, how have you been?” he asked, shuffling his feet slightly.

“I’ve been okay,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just trying to keep busy.”

There was a moment of awkward silence between you as you both tried to gather your thoughts. You couldn't help but notice how much he had changed since the last time you saw him. His hair was shorter, and he looked like he had put on some muscle. But it was his eyes that caught your attention the most. They looked tired and distant, like he had been carrying a heavy burden for a long time.

“How are-How are things with you?” you choked out.

Lando let out a small laugh, but it sounded hollow to your ears. "Things have been good, I guess," he said, his eyes flickering towards yours for a moment before darting away. "Work has been keeping me busy."

You nodded, not sure what to say. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought of him thriving without you. It didn't seem fair that he could move on so easily while you were still struggling in a way.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. "For everything. For how I treated you, for how I acted. I was a fool, and I should have never let you go."

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not.” he cut you off harshly. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve set my priorities straight.”

“But you did.” you smiled to hide the pain as you said that, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

“I was wrong. I was so wrong.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lando could see the confusion and hurt written all over your face, and he knew that he had a lot to answer for. He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts before he spoke again.

“I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry.” he said. “I should have fought for you, instead of letting my pride get in the way. I missed you more than I could ever say, and being away from you only made me realize how much I need you in my life.”

You looked at him skeptically, unsure if you could believe him after all the pain he had caused you. But as you looked into his eyes, you could see the sincerity and regret that shone through.

“I don't know if you're ready to forgive me, and I don't expect you to right away,” he continued. “But I had to come and tell you how I feel and to try to make things right. If you’ll let me.”

He looked down as he finished his speech. You sat a few moments in silence, letting it all sink in before leaning over and reaching for his hand.

As soon as your fingers interlocked with his, you felt a jolt of electricity run through your body. It had been so long since you had touched him, and it felt like coming home.

“Lando,” you called, wanting him to look at you. You only continued when he did. “I already forgave you. But as for the rest… I will need some time.” you said softly, not wanting to give him false hope. “But I appreciate your apology.”

"I understand," he said, squeezing your hand gently. "I'll give you all the time you need. Just know that I'm here whenever you're ready."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. It wasn't a complete resolution, but it was a start. You sat in silence for a few more minutes, just holding each other's hands, before you finally pulled away.

"I should get going," you said, grabbing your book and standing up.

“Let me drive you home.” Lando said, standing up as well.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you were ready to spend more time alone with him. But as you looked into his earnest and apologetic gaze, you couldn't help but nod in agreement.

"Okay," you said, a small smile creeping onto your face. "Let's go."

Lando walked you to his car, opening the door for you and then walking around to the driver's side. As he started the engine, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over you. This was the same car he had driven you around in when you were together, and it felt strange to be sitting in it again.

The ride was mostly silent, with both of you lost in your own thoughts. But as you pulled up in front of your apartment building, Lando turned to you with a serious expression on his face.

"I know I have a lot to make up for," he said, his voice low and intense. “But I promise you, I'll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I'm serious about this. I want us to be together again, if you'll have me."

You took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. It was true that you still had feelings for Lando, but you weren't sure if it was enough to give him another chance. You needed time to think, to process everything that had happened between you two.

"I appreciate your sincerity, Lando," you said finally, meeting his gaze. "But I need some time alone to figure things out. Can you give me that?"

"Of course," he said, nodding his head. "I'll respect your wishes. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?"

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief and gratitude towards him. Despite everything that had happened between you two, he still cared about your well-being. It was a comforting thought, and it made you realize that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for the two of you.

"Thank you, Lando," you said, giving him a small smile. "I'll talk to you soon."

With that, you got out of the car and walked towards your building, feeling a strange mixture of emotions. Part of you was relieved to have some space to think, while another part of you was still hopeful for a future with Lando.

As you walked up the stairs to your apartment, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held. Would you be able to start anew, or would you remain apart forever? Only time would tell, but for now, all you could do was take things one day at a time.

[mountttmase]

I’ll Keep You Safe

Note - surprise 😏 just a little something I wrote last night that I thought was sweet. I hope you enjoy and feedback would be appreciated 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 556

Warnings - fluff

You didn’t know what was coming for you, but you knew it was bad and you knew you were trapped.

You’d been running for ages, your legs going as fast as they could for as long as you could but you didn’t have the energy anymore. Darting into the first safe place you saw but you knew you wouldn’t be hidden for long. The uneasy tingle making its way up your spine and the urge to scream was overwhelming.

You’d never felt this panicked before, so petrified you felt dizzy and the lines of what was real and what wasn’t were starting to become blurred. The edges of your vision becoming hazy and your body stiff before everything was suddenly silent.

You sat up with an audible gasp, your skin clammy and heart racing as you fought to regain your breath but a lamp being turned on beside you snapped you out of your daze slightly.

‘Babe? Baby what’s wrong?’ You heard, turning to see Mason sitting up next to you before placing a cautious hand on your forearm.

His hair was stuck up in multiple directions, the imprint of his pillow still deep on his cheek and his eyes were squinting as he tried to adjust to the light but the look of concern on his face was evident and you felt your lip wobble as your eyes stung.

‘I was s-stuck, I-i couldn’t-‘

‘Shhhh, it’s okay’ he whispered. Snaking his arm around your back so he could pull you into his chest. ‘It was just a bad dream baby, you’re alright’

‘Sorry’ you sniffed, your emotions getting the better of you as his warmth and comfort enveloped you. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you-‘

‘Don’t be silly, gorgeous’ he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I think so’ you whispered. Still out of sorts but you knew deep down you were fine now. Holding onto Mason like your life depended on it but the warmth of his body was relaxing you.

‘Come lay down with me, I’ll keep you safe’ he reassured you, shuffling about so you could lay together.

You did as he said, letting him pull you down and into his chest so he could hold you. The steady beat of his heart calming your own and the soft kisses he was pressing to your hairline let you relax into him but you felt safe enough already with him. He was your comfort and no matter what thoughts were scrambling around in your brain right now you knew you’d be okay as long as he was next to you.

There was something about being in Masons arms that made every ounce of tension leave you and right now was no different. Clinging onto him like your life depended on it as you tried to block out every thought of what had just happened when you last had your eyes shut.

‘I’ll leave the light on, yeah? You just go to sleep and I’ll look after you’ he whispered, clearly picking up on how scared you still were so you quickly pressed a kiss to his chest to let him know you were thankful for him before carefully shutting your eyes. Knowing this time nothing bad could get to you as long as you were safe in his arms.

[natti-ice]

The Truth Will Set You Free- Tom Riddle.

Pairing: Tom riddle x fem!reader

Summary: a mysterious letter reveals Tom’s biggest secret.

Warnings: angst, written in third person (she/her pronouns) (1k words)

Author’s note: this is a reupload, I wrote this a while ago!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

"YOU'RE MARRIED?!?" She yelled at him, watching the color drain from his face gave her the answer. Tom closed the book he had been reading peacefully as he lounged in a plush chair in his dorm room.

"What are you talking about, dear?" He swallowed, he saw Y/N holding a piece of paper in her hand, confusion and anger in her facial expressions. He had no idea how this could have got to her, barely anyone knew about this.

"I received this letter this morning" she started, showing him the paper she had been clutching onto for the past twenty minutes. "I don't know if this is some sick joke or if you've been lying to me this whole time. Tom, is it true?" She didn't know what to think, when she got the letter she thought it was someone trying to play with her. But as the letter went on it seemed too real

"Tom and I were wed the summer before his sixth year. Once he graduates we shall start a family together, I believe you deserve to know since there are talks of your attachment to him. Just know, this is how it has to be, he cannot be yours."

Reading this brought a sharp pain in her chest, she thought she knew the man she loved. She knew he had his secrets, but she wouldn't think he would withhold this from her. Her emotions were all jumbled into one, she didn't know what to feel.

"It's true," he said in a hushed tone, his head hung low like a dog being scolded. "You weren't supposed to find out this way"

"Like this? Or was I not supposed to find out at all?" Okay, it seems her anger has gotten the better of her

"Please let me explain, Y/N" Tom begged. His usual stoic demeanor had completely vanished, he had never let his emotions show this way, it made him feel weak.

"I don't know if I want to hear it, Tom. How could you do this to me?"

"I didn't do it to hurt you" he raised his voice as he became angry at himself "I figured if you knew, you would want nothing to do with me" he admitted

"You're probably right about that" she said sarcastically

"Y/N, please don't joke about this" he warned "if you'd let me, I'll explain to you everything that happened. Only the truth" his eyes met hers he could see the pain in them, that shattered his heart. When he met Y/N he knew he had found the only person in the world he could truly care for. She broke down every wall he tried to put up with ease, there was no way he could let her get away.

"Fine, go ahead" she whispered as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat

He sighed, calming his brain before proceeding to tell her about something that has eaten at him every day for the past two years. "At the end of my fifth year, my mother put me into an arranged marriage. I fought and fought to get out of it, but no matter what I said I couldn't get out. She paired me with some pure-blooded floozy who couldn't last a day without her father's money, the day of the ceremony was the worst day of my life. My mother expects me to have children with that girl and I honestly couldn't care less about that stupid girl." Talking about her put a bad taste in his mouth, he hated her with every ounce of his being.

"I just don't get why you didn't tell me" Y/N said during Tom's pause

"I didn't tell you because it's a part of me that I hate. Having my name attached to someone who I will never love, isn't something I'm proud of. When I met you, it was like that terrible situation was in the past and you were my future. For years I have been trying to find a way out of this marriage. I plan to divorce her as soon as I'm done with school." He felt slight relief as he finally got this off his chest, it always weighed heavy on him.

Y/N stood a foot away from Tom, as he explained his story her heart broke more, she had never seen Tom in such pain before, and it definitely wasn't a good feeling to watch. "What about your mother?" She asked

"I don't care about that woman! She hasn't a motherly bone in her body, once I'm done with school I'll never see her again" His hatred for his mother ran deep, Y/N knew he never liked his mother. She understood why, if she was her mother she'd probably feel the exact same way.

"Y/N" Tom reached for her hand, wrapping both his hands around her, bringing it up to his mouth gently kissing the back. "I am very sorry I never told you about this, I've never been good at telling the truth but that's no excuse. I promise you, you are the only person I will ever love." This is the truest thing to ever leave Tom's mouth

God, he's so beautiful she thought, searching for any trace he was lying to her. Sometimes she felt foolish thinking about how much she loved him, his hold on her was so strong. But she wouldn't change a thing.

"I'm so conflicted right now" she admitted, "but I believe you, you swear you want nothing to do with her?"

"Cross my heart, I would never dream of being with her" he brought his hand up to Y/N's cheek, slowly stroking it with his thumb. "You are the only person I want to marry" he whispered

"Good, because I don't think I'd like a life without you" she slightly grinned

"What if, when we're done at this tragic place, you and I run off together? We won't have to worry about anyone else, it'll just be us living our life together" Tom suggested

"That sounds like a very thought out plan, dear" she smirked "perhaps I might take you up on that offer" she leaned in, slightly pecking his lips

"You really have to get those papers signed, Tom. I am no one's mistress" she half-joked but he knew she was serious.

"Anything for you my dear"

Join a tag list!

[lovezbrownies]

I wanna make a request for Nia, the yandere queen.

Have you ever seen the anime, Dororo? It's pretty dark.

Anyway, for my request scenario: Queen Nia is pregnant with her darling's child. But, when she gives birth, they're met with a startling sight; the child is born without any arms, legs, eyes, nose, ears, and ears. They still have a mouth though.

Astonishingly, the baby is alive and breathing. (In the anime, Dororo, the protagonist's adoptive father fitted him with a bunch of prosthetics.)

How would they react? And what happens afterwards.

Hello! I felt like this would be a pretty sensitive topic to write about regarding disbality so I hope i did well! If I ever said something horrible or ableist please please tell me so i can change it! ofc other than Nia being ableist

Loser. (Yandere!Queen x GN!Reader x Queen.)

Nia's Masterlist - General Masterlist

Synopsis: A greedy self-absorbed Queen loses the love of her life by being an ablesit shitbag.

Warnings: Ableism, a lot of it, be warned. Nia goes crazy, Darling is a rizzler bagged two baddies. Happy ending, sad honeslty

The palace had always been a monument to opulence—a fortress of splendor rising against the backdrop of an unyielding kingdom. With its grand marble columns reaching toward the heavens and tapestries woven with tales of glory draping its walls, it was a place meant to inspire awe. Yet, for you, it had become a gilded cage, a space filled with echoes of laughter and revelry that only served to highlight the absence of warmth and love. As you sat in the nursery, the air thick with a melancholic silence, you cradled your son in your arms, feeling the weight of a thousand burdens settle upon your shoulders.

Born into a world that had never asked for him, your son was an embodiment of hope and despair. He was born without arms, legs, eyes, or ears—his only defining feature a small mouth that could barely form a sound. The first time you laid eyes on him, your heart had shattered and mended all at once. In a moment that should have been filled with joy and celebration, you found yourself wrestling with a storm of emotions. And yet, through that storm, one truth remained clear: he was your child, a beautiful miracle in a world that had no place for him.

Every day, you fought against the oppressive atmosphere of the palace. Nia, your queen and wife, used to be so nice, so sweet, but since the moment she had seen their child, everything had changed. You had watched her features twist into horror and disbelief, her disdain wrapping around her like a suffocating shroud. “This is not my child,” she had whispered in that cold, clinical tone that stung your heart. Those words echoed in your mind like a ghost, haunting every moment you spent with your son. Her eyes, once filled with adoration for you, had turned into a mirror of contempt whenever they landed on him.

You spent your days nurturing your fragile son, filling the nursery with soft whispers and gentle touches. He was a tiny being full of potential, and you had made it your life’s mission to give him every ounce of love you could muster. You’d sing lullabies that filled the air with a warmth he could feel, even if he couldn’t hear them. You’d tell him stories of brave knights and far-off lands, weaving tales of adventure that would inspire dreams in the darkest corners of his mind. Each interaction, no matter how small, strengthened the bond between you, forging a connection that defied the cruel world outside those nursery walls.

But Nia’s disdain for their son only grew. Her laughter, once filled with lightness and joy, turned hollow whenever she passed the nursery door. The whispers of her courtiers followed her, echoing her sentiments. “Why would they waste their time with that monstrosity?” they’d ask, their voices laced with condescension. “He’ll never be anything.”

With each derisive comment, your heart ached for your child. You wished more than anything that Nia could see what you saw. The beauty of his spirit, the strength in his fragile existence—it was all there, waiting to be embraced. But Nia was blind to it. She only saw a burden, a shadow that loomed over her once-glorious life.

In her mind, your love for your son had turned you into a stranger. You were no longer the partner she adored; you had become a parent, a protector, a barrier between her and the life she craved—a life of frivolity, laughter, and the adoration of her subjects. The palace was filled with parties, celebrations, and grand events, but you had begun to drift away from it all, entangled in the delicate needs of your child. And Nia resented you for it.

You tried to explain it to her, to make her understand. “He needs me, Nia,” you would say, your voice trembling with urgency. “He needs us. He’s our son.” But each time, Nia would turn her back on you, her shoulders rigid with anger, her lips set in a tight line.

“Don’t bring him into this,” she would snap, her tone icy. “He’s not a part of our world.”

And yet, to you, he was everything. He was the light in your life, the reason you got out of bed every morning. You often caught yourself dreaming of a world where he could run and play, where the laughter of children rang through the air without the weight of judgment looming above them. You wanted to shield him from the cruel realities of the kingdom, to create a haven where he could simply be.

Days turned into weeks, and the distance between you and Nia grew. Her obsession with you morphed into something darker, something possessive that gnawed at the edges of her sanity. She began to visit the nursery less and less, preferring the company of her courtiers over the child she had borne. Whenever she did grace you with her presence, her remarks were sharp and cutting.

“Why do you spoil him so?” she would demand, her voice filled with contempt. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

“Every child deserves love, Nia,” you would reply, your heart heavy with frustration. “He deserves a chance to be loved, even if you can’t see it.”

She would scoff, her eyes narrowing with disdain. “He’s a monstrosity. He’ll never amount to anything. You’re wasting your time.”

You found yourself growing weary of the fight. How could you convince someone so resolute in their beliefs? Nia had crafted a fantasy world in her mind, one where she reigned supreme and was adored by all. And in that world, there was no place for your son. He was a living reminder of everything she detested, everything that disrupted the perfect image she had built around herself.

You often turned to the stars for solace. On sleepless nights, you would sit by the nursery window, cradling your son as you gazed up at the vastness above. Each twinkling light was a promise of hope, a reminder that beauty existed even in darkness. You would whisper your dreams to him, telling him that one day, you would escape this place together. You envisioned a life beyond the palace walls, far away from Nia’s possessiveness and the cold judgments of the world.

But as much as you dreamed of freedom, the reality of Nia’s fury loomed like a storm cloud over your head. She could be volatile, and every time you saw her slip deeper into darkness, fear gripped your heart. What if she decided to take matters into her own hands? What if she tried to erase him from existence altogether?

The night it all came to a head, Nia’s anger erupted like a volcano, spewing forth a torrent of words that cut through the air like knives. She stormed into the nursery, her face a mask of fury, and you felt your heart drop into your stomach. “Enough!” she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls. “I will not have you ruin everything for a creature that doesn’t deserve your love!”

You felt your breath hitch in your throat, and instinctively, you tightened your hold on your son, feeling his fragile form against your chest. “He’s our son, Nia! You can’t just dismiss him like this!” The desperation in your voice was palpable, but Nia’s eyes blazed with fury, her lips curling into a sneer.

“My son?” she spat, her tone venomous. “He is a burden, a mark of your weakness! You think I want to be reminded of him every day? You think I want to watch you waste away caring for him?”

“Caring for him is not a waste!” You could feel the fire of your emotions surging within you. “He deserves love and compassion, even if you can’t understand that!”

Her expression shifted, something dark and dangerous flickering in her eyes. “If you won’t let him go, then I will. I’ll send him away—far away—somewhere you’ll never find him. I won’t have him here, ruining everything.”

You froze, the words hitting you like a physical blow. “You wouldn’t dare.” Your voice was barely a whisper, fear coiling around your heart. The thought of her taking your son from you, of him being lost to the world, was too much to bear.

Nia stepped closer, her presence oppressive and overwhelming. “I will do whatever it takes to protect what’s mine. You think I won’t?” Her voice dripped with malice, and you could see the glint of madness in her eyes.

“No!” You couldn’t breathe. Panic surged through you as you turned and bolted from the nursery, clutching your son close to your chest. The weight of her threat pressed down on you, suffocating you as you raced through the palace corridors, your heart pounding in your ears.

You could hear Nia’s voice echoing behind you, her angry shouts growing fainter as you reached the stables. You didn’t think; you just acted. You mounted a horse, your hands shaking as you settled your son securely in your arms. He whimpered softly, sensing your fear, and you whispered promises of safety to him as you urged the horse into a gallop.

The night air whipped around you, cold and biting, but you didn’t care. The palace receded behind you, its towering spires fading into the darkness as you rode deeper into the unknown. Each beat of the horse’s hooves against the ground matched the frantic rhythm of your heart. You were escaping—escaping from Nia’s madness, from the gilded cage that had constrained your life. But the freedom you craved was laced with uncertainty, and your thoughts spiraled into a whirlpool of emotions.

The moon hung high in the sky, a silver sentinel watching over your flight as you rode into the night. With every stride, the sound of your heart echoed in your ears, thrumming with a mix of fear and determination. You could still hear Nia’s voice ringing in your ears—her threats wrapping around your heart like a vise, squeezing tighter with each passing second. You had to get away, to put distance between your son and the chaos of the palace, where Nia’s obsession could twist into something darker.

As you rode, you glanced down at your child, whose tiny form felt so fragile in your arms. His skin glowed softly in the moonlight, and for a moment, you let the world around you blur. His breathing was steady, a reminder that he was here with you, alive and full of potential despite the harsh realities of his existence. In that moment, he was your everything—the reason you had fought so hard to carve out a life for him within the confines of the palace.

You reached the edge of the forest, the trees standing tall like ancient guardians. You dismounted and found a secluded spot beneath the canopy, where the branches intertwined overhead, creating a natural shelter. You spread your cloak on the ground, carefully laying your son down on it, and knelt beside him, your heart swelling with a mix of love and fear.

“I promise,” you whispered, brushing your fingers over his soft skin, “I won’t let anyone take you away from me. You are my light, and I will protect you with everything I have.”

Tears filled your eyes as you looked down at him, every moment of nurturing and love flooding back to you in a rush. Memories of soothing him when he cried, of the laughter shared during those quiet moments, filled your heart with warmth. He was your child—innocent, beautiful, and deserving of all the love you could give.

But the darkness of the world loomed larger now, and the thought of Nia hunting for you sent shivers down your spine. She had always been fiercely protective of her image and her reign, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that she would stop at nothing to regain control over the life she believed was slipping away from her grasp. Your heart ached with the knowledge that the woman you loved had become a stranger, consumed by her fears and obsessions.

As the night deepened, you held your son close, whispering stories of adventure and bravery to fill the silence. The stars above twinkled brightly, casting a soft glow that illuminated his fragile features. You thought of the life you had envisioned for him—a life where he could thrive without fear, where he could feel the love of a parent unburdened by the weight of judgment.

Hours passed, and the cool night air wrapped itself around you like a blanket, the chill biting at your skin as you held your son close, feeling his soft breaths against your chest. Exhaustion crept in, your eyes growing heavier with each passing moment, but the adrenaline still coursed through your veins, fueled by the single, burning thought of keeping your son safe. You knew you couldn’t stay in the woods forever; the shadows of the trees offered momentary refuge, but Nia’s reach was long, and her wrath was unrelenting. You needed to find a new home, a place where her power would never touch you or your child again.

As dawn began to break, the soft light filtering through the canopy of trees, you made a decision. You mounted your horse once more, your son securely nestled against you, his tiny body providing a fragile sense of purpose and hope. With a deep breath, you urged the horse forward, its hooves pounding against the earth as you moved deeper into the forest, farther from the only home you had ever known—and from the woman who had once filled your heart with joy, but now filled it with dread.

Days blurred into each other as you journeyed further into the wilderness. Each night, you found a secluded place to rest, your arms wrapped protectively around your son, and each morning, you pushed onward, driven by the fierce love you felt for the small life that depended on you. The bond between you and your son grew stronger with every mile, his innocence a source of strength as you navigated the harsh realities of survival. You foraged for food, hunted when you could, and discovered a resilience you hadn’t known existed within yourself.

The first time you found fresh berries, the joy of providing for your son filled you with a deep, unexpected warmth. You watched him eat, his tiny face lighting up with delight, and for that brief moment, your worries seemed to ease. You would do anything for him, anything to protect him from the world that had turned so cruel.

But Nia’s shadow loomed ever closer, her obsession with finding you growing with each passing day. Word had spread throughout the kingdom of your disappearance, and Nia’s anger had turned into a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. She searched for you with a madness that had begun to unravel her once formidable reputation. You could almost feel her presence in the distance, a suffocating weight that hung over you, but you refused to let it pull you back.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of wandering, you stumbled upon a stone wall—tall, thick, and ancient. It was a fortress, a symbol of strength and safety. Your heart raced as you searched for the entrance, and when you finally found it, you realized where you were: the kingdom of Dacos, Xelera’s sworn enemy. This was the land Nia despised, the kingdom that had risen from poverty and oppression to become a powerful force under the rule of its new queen. And now, it seemed, fate had led you to its gates.

You approached the guards, desperation evident in your voice as you begged them to let you in, your son cradled in your arms. The guards exchanged glances, recognizing your story—whispers of the mad queen of Xelera and her “kidnapped” spouse had spread far and wide. By a stroke of fortune, they allowed you entry, offering you a chance at safety in a land Nia could never touch.

You were brought before Queen Estoria, a woman of undeniable strength and grace, slightly older than Nia but with a warmth that instantly put you at ease. When she heard your tale, her eyes softened, and without hesitation, she welcomed you into her palace, offering you and your son sanctuary. There was an immediate connection between you, a shared understanding of the pain Nia had caused. Estoria promised you protection, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you felt a glimmer of hope.

Life in Dacos was a world apart from the one you’d left behind. Estoria’s palace became your sanctuary, a place where your son was adored and cherished. Estoria, in particular, took a special interest in him, requesting the finest prosthetics to be made every six months to accommodate his growing body. She showered him with love and care, becoming a mother to him in ways you had never imagined. Over time, her role in your life deepened, and she became not just a protector but a partner—a stepmother to your son and a source of comfort and joy for you.

Years passed, and the bond between the three of you only grew stronger. Estoria’s love for your son was as fierce as your own, and together, you created a life full of warmth and happiness. Your son, who had once been abandoned by his birth mother, now thrived in a home filled with love, his laughter echoing through the halls of the palace.

But Nia… Nia had not forgotten you. Her obsession had driven her to the brink of madness. She waged a war against Dacos, a desperate attempt to reclaim what she had lost, but her forces were no match for Estoria’s army. The war ended swiftly, and with it came a final, crushing defeat for the Queen of Xelera. Estoria, ever strategic, offered Nia a peace treaty—one that would seal Nia’s fate forever.

“Give up your rights to your son and legally divorce your runaway spouse,” Estoria had declared. “Swear never to wage war against Dacos again, or face total annihilation.”

Nia, her power shattered and her kingdom in ruins, had no choice. With a heart full of bitterness and regret, she signed away her last claim to you and your son, her hand trembling as she forfeited everything she had once held dear.

As Nia faded into the past, your life in Dacos flourished. You had found love, safety, and a future for your son—something Nia could never offer. And as you stood by Estoria’s side, watching your child grow, you knew that you had finally escaped the shadows of the past, finding peace in a kingdom where love reigned supreme.

Meanwhile Nia’s downfall was inevitable. Her obsession with finding you had twisted her mind, her once-sharp intellect dulled by the madness that had consumed her. The queen who once ruled with calculated precision now spent her days locked away in her chambers, pacing frantically as she ranted about betrayals and conspiracies. The kingdom that had once flourished under her assistant's iron rule crumbled around her, her subjects whispering of her insanity. Rumors spread like wildfire—Nia had lost her mind, and with it, her grip on the throne.

It wasn’t long before the council stepped in. Her cousin, a distant relative with no interest in power but a keen sense of duty, was called upon to take the throne in her stead. The decision was made quietly, behind closed doors, as the council agreed to strip Nia of her title until her son—your son—came of age to rule. The transition of power was swift, and Nia, once the fierce and unstoppable Queen of Xelera, was quietly removed from the palace, confined to a distant estate where her madness could no longer harm the kingdom she had once ruled.

As for the throne of Xelera, it waited—an empty seat of power, destined for the day your son would come of age.

News of Nia’s final fall reached Dacos weeks later. You and Estoria sat together when the messenger arrived, the weight of his words settling over the room like a heavy cloud. Estoria’s brow furrowed in thought, her hand resting on your shoulder as the two of you exchanged a glance. The message was clear: Nia’s reign was over, and your son was now the rightful heir to the Xeleran throne.

Later that evening, you found yourselves sitting with your son, the weight of this revelation resting heavily between you. He was older now, his mind sharp and curious, the prosthetics Estoria had commissioned for him growing more advanced with every passing year. You could see the flicker of understanding in his eyes as you told him the news—the kingdom of Xelera, the throne that was now his by birthright, and the choice he would one day have to make.

Estoria knelt beside him, her voice gentle but firm as she explained, “One day, you will have a decision to make, my love. Whether you will take your place as King of Dacos, alongside me and your parent, or… whether you will return to Xelera, to rule the kingdom that once belonged to your birth mother.”

Your son looked between the two of you, his face thoughtful, yet unreadable. The question hung in the air, a heavy silence filling the room as he considered the weight of the choice laid before him. His young eyes, once filled with innocence, now held a glimmer of something else—something deeper.

He finally spoke, his voice quiet but steady. “I’ll need to think about it.”

And with that, the future hung in the balance, teetering between two kingdoms, two worlds—one that had embraced him with love and security, and another that had been shaped by the shadow of his birth mother’s madness.

[querenciasturniolo]

Hi <3 I was wondering if I can request something fluffy for Chris where you’re sitting on his lap trying a new makeup look on him and he won’t sit still - he keeps flirting and being all affectionate to distract you~ Thank u 🤗

pretty ⮕ c.s.

word count: 623

warnings: swearing, affection, kisses, whining, fluff

summary: chris finally agreed to let you do his makeup, but he had a plan of his own to get out of it.

a/n: this is such a cute idea!!! i LOVED writing this! send more requests, please !!!!

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

“Would you sit still?”

Chris whined and dropped his head back, the brush in your hand nearly falling. “My face feels heavy, this is awful.” You laughed, lightly carding your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling his head back up.

“I’m almost done, just let me.” You said, Chris grumbling as you continued to lightly brush over his eyes. His hands found your waist, his thumbs lightly grazing over the exposed skin between your shirt and pants. You used your leverage on his hair to turn his head to the side as you dropped your eyeshadow brush and picked up another brush. Chris leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your collarbone. You shuddered, but tried to ignore him.

You knew what he was doing, how he was trying to distract you. He did this any time he agreed to something with you that he regretted after. He never asked you to stop with words, but he’d try his damndest to get you distracted. Not this time, especially since you were so close to finishing.

“Wouldn’t you rather be watching a movie? Or doing anything else?” He asked. He pulled you closer to him on his lap, your knees on either side of him. He leaned up and pressed his lips to yours, catching you off guard completely. The brush in your hand nearly fell as you kissed him back, the taste of lipgloss on your tongue snapping you out of it.

You pulled away, dropping the brush in your hand and grabbing your mascara. “One more thing, and I’ll release you from this torture.” You teased, Chris groaning and flailing dramatically, kicking his feet like a toddler and jostling you as you grinned and shook your head. “Okay, look up.” You said, Chris rolling his eyes but complying.

He kept flinching, closing his eyes and backing away with each gentle swipe of the wand. “You have to stay still, or it’s going to get everywhere.” You said, Chris finally stopping his squirming and letting you finish.

You grabbed your mirror and leaned back, holding it in front of his face with a grin. “There; you look pretty.”

Chris stared at his reflection, no emotion on his face before he threw his head back and laughed. You loved when he laughed, he always put every ounce of emotion into it. It was almost impossible to console him, even when he fell over on his side and you toppled on top of him. You pushed yourself up and grabbed his shoulders, your own laughter keeping you from speaking.

“It isn’t that bad, stop laughing!” Chris shook his head, tears running down the sides of his face and mascara running with it. “You’re ruining it!” You laughed, Chris finally opening his eyes and grinning up at you.

“N-No, it looks great, I promise.” He said, his voice strained as he fought off another fit of laughter. You shook your head and leaned down, pressing your lips to his to shut him up. His hands found their way to your waist during the kiss, both of your smiles making it nearly impossible.

You pulled away and just looked at him, the boy you’ve loved for so long just smiling back up at you, his smile so wide that both rows of his teeth were on full display. How could you not love him?

“You really do look pretty.” You said, Chris scoffing and shaking his head.

“Yeah, okay.” He said, reaching one hand up to cup your cheek and pulling you back down. He smiled.

“Maybe I should let you do my makeup more often.” He teased, finally pressing his lips to yours.

[wonijinjin]

escapsim

author’s note: this is quite a sensitive topic and i am not entirely sure if i could convey the message of a situation like this, but i hope it turned out to be comforting for the ones who go through this, you are not alone.

synopsis: finding the escape from the grey everydays in the form of joshua hong.

word count: 0.7k | genre: hurt/comfort, a bit angsty | pairing: joshua x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of family issues (nothing graphic), bad mental health

it was one of those days again. when the arguments seemed never-ending, when you couldn’t focus on anything else, but the events happening in the morning; it wasn’t a pretty scene that was certain. you had spent every minute of your time putting up with your parents, trying to survive yet another day. you had one main goal today in this never ending evil circle; to have a sleepover with your boyfriend later after your usual date. he was your exit, your escape from this nightmare of a family others would never wish upon their worst enemies, he kept you going. you loved him more than anything, you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

“earth to you? hello?” joshua’s voice echoed in your ears when you looked up from your haze. “did you see something in your drink? you were staring at it like it was some kind of monster.” he chuckled, his eye smile making an appearance along with his wide smile. you were at the local coffee shop, sipping on some delicious bevareges. “sorry, i just got distracted shua.” you shyly admitted, your pout and bad mood evident to literally anyone looking at you. “what’s up darling? you seem to be a bit deflated today. like a balloon which got popped.” he noted, making a pointing gesture in the air with sound effects to prove his point. you stayed silent, a few stray tears welling up in your eyes. you didn’t like crying in front of him; you didn’t like to always remind him of the burden you carried along with you from your household. “awww baby, please don’t cry!” he cooed while standing up from his end of the table and coming over to hug your frame. “tell your sweet boyfriend what is the problem. i am sure whatever it is we can solve it.” he pleaded while patting your head rhythmically. “my parents fought again in the morning.” you sigh, feeling a big stone come off your chest with the words; it was great to be able to speak up about it. “oh baby, i am sorry.” he cradled your head in his arms. “i know things have been a bit chaotic and rough nowadays, i can see it taking a toll on you.” he whispered into your hair. “i am fine, really, it just gets tiring with time.” you reassured him, but he knew how much it hurt you on the inside. he never wanted you to lose your cheerful side, so he did his absolute best to help you in every way possible. “you know what? let’s spend the rest of the afternoon at my place darling.” he offered with a gentle hand reaching out for yours.

“i love you so much.” you confessed to joshua while making a cup of tea in his kitchen. “i love you too sweetheart. till the day this planet exists, i will always be here for you." he threw you a kiss from beside the counter, smirking mischievously. "do you want sugar or honey in the tea?” he asked while opening the cupboards and searching for the mentioned ingredients. “i think i will stick with honey.” you winked “pun intended.” his eyes lit up from laughing and he trapped you in his embrace in a swift motion; a bear hug for sadness. “good to see that your humour is still the same.” you looked at him fondly, kissing his cheek. "you always make me feel at ease, you know.” he poured out the remaining tea and grabbed your hand, initiating for you to move to the living room. "let go of every ounce of stress you have darling. you can always be yourself with me, and you can always tell me everything.” he made you lay down on the couch while he reached forward for a big blanket to cover the two of you after settling down himself. "which movie do you want to watch today?" he questioned while pulling you into his side. you only grinned at him, not saying anything. "don't tell me you want to watch what i think you want to..." he sighed; he knew your favourite comfort movie and how much you loved it, but for him it was getting a bit much. "you know exactly that i in fact want to watch that, shua!" you giggled upon seeing his distressed face. you appreciated him for not getting tired of the movie (or at least not saying that he was bored of it); he was the sweetest (as always) when you were feeling down. "fine, since you are in need of something happy i will agree on this for you darling." he smiled and grabbed the remote, putting the film on the tv immediately. “but next time i choose! deal?” he questioned playfully. “deal.” in moments like these, when he made you forget about your everyday worries, these were the times when you really realised how grateful you are for his presence in your life. you couldn't have wished for anybody else, but him as the escape from this cruel world.

[morning-star-joy]

would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, Established Relationship, ASHWAH Universe

Summary: You settle into your relationship with Joel, but struggle with the anxiety of possibly losing him one day.

Warnings: Themes of Anxiety and Grief, Description of a Panic Attack, Angst from PTSD/Loss. Hurt/Comfort. Talking about emotions/fears. Very brief mention of sex. Some things can be read as foreshadowing for Part 2 (it's not canon in ASHWAH universe, but can be interpreted that way)

Wordcount: 3.6k

A/N: Been struggling with writing lately, so I ended up going back to my roots and writing some more for ASHWAH. This was a little thought experiment on how Reader would adjust to a relationship and reveal some of her anxiety around it, along with a bit of Joel's. I may end up writing a companion piece of Joel's anxieties from his POV.

When you knew you were in love with Joel Miller, the three words falling softly from his lips and pulling them from your own in a confession you hadn’t consciously realized you felt until that moment, you wondered how you hadn’t known before.

There was some part of you, something resting deep in your soul, that knew you loved him all along. There were a few times where you think you realized it—after Thanksgiving on that rainy street, during the holiday party when you opened the gift hand carved by him and caught his gaze from across the room—but another part of you, the girl who was still so unsure and afraid of anything resembling that kind of love, kept you from fully acknowledging it.

Still, there had been no ounce of hesitation when you repeated his affection back to him with your own that first time when lying in bed, and that whole morning where you laid in each other’s arms and dreamed up another life together was a memory that quickly became one of your most cherished moments.

You didn’t profess your love for each other at every waking moment. Most of the time, you didn’t say it at all, instead letting it speak for itself in the way you moved around each other, the way you touched each other, casual as much as intimate, with such a comfortable ease that said everything you ever needed to know.

Those moments where you did repeat the three words to each other were still some of your favorites, though. They came so naturally, murmured against each other’s lips in the heat of a passionate embrace, Joel’s rough voice mumbling it against your ear after he stole a kiss from you while out shopping in Jackson’s markets—one of his favorite activities, for some reason, though you couldn’t quite understand the joy he tried to conceal for those painfully domestic moments in your lives—or your whisper of it as you kissed his cheek before he left for an early morning patrol.

“Come back to me safe,” you’d sometimes add on those mornings, the quiet plea pulling Joel right back to you from where he had moved towards the front door, dropping his backpack to be forgotten momentarily on the ground before he pulled you into his arms for a deep kiss full of all the emotions you both had fought so hard to accept and nurture for each other.

“Oh, mi luna,” Joel would whisper against your lips as he kissed them again and again, unable to resist giving you one more peck even as you pushed him gently away so he wouldn’t keep Tommy waiting at Jackson’s gates. “Always.”

Those were the days where you felt the most anxious. Even though you knew Joel’s near unrivaled skill in combat and survival, having seen it firsthand more than once, you couldn’t help the doubts and fears that crept into the back of your mind if he was just the slightest bit late.

Most the time you managed to contain your pacing to the house you now shared with him, wearing a hole in the floorboards in front of the front door until it opened, and you’d spin around, feeling all the anxiety flood from your body as you saw his tired face from a long day of hard work, relaxing in the same moment he did when you saw each other.

But if Joel was just the slightest bit late, you’d be out the door, walking down the streets until you were pacing in front of the gates, waiting with increasing panicked breaths until the gates were open. Your entire body would tense as you hoped you wouldn’t see one of the Miller brothers walking in alone, then relaxing when you saw them both ride in on their horses each time.

“Hey,” Joel said quietly as he brought his stallion to a stop, quickly demounting it to move towards you when he saw the look on your face that first time you were waiting at the gates. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing,” you sighed, shaking your head to try and rid him of his own worry, something you failed in and felt guilty for as he cupped your face in his gloved hands.

Tommy would pat you gently on the shoulder before taking his and Joel’s horses back to the stables those days, letting Joel wrap his arm around your shoulder to take you back home.

The very first time you had waited for them like that, your best friend had teased you about it, saying something along the lines of you never having waited like that for just him.

But when he got a closer look at your face, any jokes quickly stopped, understanding exactly what drove your fear even as you tried to ignore the cause, as much as it lingered subconsciously in the back of your mind.

A suicide mission you had begged her not to go on. Days going by with no word from them. Pacing at the entrance to the camp when you caught wind of a radio call that they were returning. Seeing Eugene walk in without her. Without her. Without her.

Some of those nights, you’d wake up struggling to breathe from the nightmares that plagued you, trying to quiet your whimpering not to wake Joel as you curled in on yourself on your side of the bed.

But every time, it was like something woke him up, some deeper part of him knowing that you needed him in those moments, even if you still wouldn’t admit it.

You’d be tangled in the sheets, hand pressed firmly to your chest as you tried to calm your racing heart, only able to relax when you felt the familiarity of Joel’s strong arms snake around you gently and pull you back into his broad chest.

“Don’t let go,” your voice would rasp out into the darkness of your shared bedroom, grabbing his hands where they held you tighter, breathing easier when you felt his lips press to your shoulder. “Please, don’t let go.”

“I’m not letting go,” Joel would always murmur back, voice raspy with sleep, but completely in the moment with you, here to keep you grounded in a way so effortless compared to your struggles to do so by yourself. “I’m with you. For as long as you’ll have me.”

Tommy was right with his comments about you waiting for Joel on those long patrol days, even if it was just teasing. Even though the younger Miller brother was your closest friend, you had never felt this anxious over his patrols, or anybody’s—not even Joel’s, not until your love had been confessed out loud to each other.

There was something so painfully vulnerable about what you had with Joel, opening up to him slowly over time until every part of your soul was bare to him, intertwining with him completely until you couldn’t bear the thought of anything ripping him away. Not like how it had happened to you once before.

You had hardly been able to pull yourself back together that time, and you didn’t think you could ever manage to do it again if you lost him too.

But on those nights after long patrols, the ones where your body didn’t succumb to its anxiety, you found yourself having some of your favorite conversations with Joel. Most of the time, you were both too tired to have sex—except for maybe a self-indulgent quickie or mutually getting yourselves off—but instead you both laid comfortably in each other’s arms, heads resting on the same pillow as you talked.

One such night, you hardly even realized as a question you began to mull over slipped past your lips until you heard yourself say, “Were you ever in love before?”

As soon as the last few words fell from your mouth, you froze, feeling Joel’s body stiffen from where his arms were wrapped around you, both of you realizing what you had just said aloud at exactly the same moment.

You coughed, lifting your free hand to cover your mouth, an attempt to try and cover up how horrified you were at the random, blunt question you had asked.

“I—fuck, sorry,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks flush as you worried you were prying too much. Even as you had started to open up to each other in as many ways as you could discover, this hadn’t been a topic you had broached yet. “That was fucking weird. I didn’t mean—”

“Yes.”

The simple, one word confirmation brought your face back up, blinking in surprise at Joel

His face wasn’t entirely closed off, but it was pensive; strong brows furrowed to show he was deep in thought, pronouncing the wrinkles on his forehead. You felt the sudden, inexplicable urge to reach up and smooth them out with your fingers, to ease the tension your own words had caused in him.

“Or, I thought I was,” he added in a mumble, eyes focusing in on the scar on your cheek, reaching a hand up to stroke his thumb over it in his usual habit he fell into whenever he wanted to remind himself that you were with him. “It…”

Joel glanced back towards your eyes then, his eyes flickering over your face.

“It felt like it at the time, at least,” he finally said, thumb stroking your scar again.

But his grip around you now was still stiff, still awkward, so you shifted closer to him, pressing your lips to the beard he had grown as much as he could on his jaw, still charmingly patchy in places, before pulling back to look into his eyes, showing you were nothing but open ears for whatever he had to say.

“Oh?” you asked lightly, arching your brows before starting to wiggle them suggestively. “Was there a Mrs. Miller in the picture at some point, then?”

Joel huffed out a quiet laugh at your words, his brow smoothing out as he glanced over your face, and you felt that same flutter of emotion, that same surge of love you only ever had for him, unable to help but smile when his arm around your waist loosened from a firm, awkward grip to something more natural again.

“There was,” he confirmed quietly, and your eyes widened briefly in surprise at the gentle answer before you softened again once you saw the conflict in Joel’s eyes. “Didn’t last long, though.”

Your head tilted, watching as unnamed emotions surged in Joel’s gaze before settling into something somber, something melancholic. 

“What happened?” you asked, keeping your voice just as quiet as his, afraid you would shatter the vulnerability of the moment and have to deal with Joel’s walls rebuilding. It didn’t happen that often anymore, but old habits were hard to shake at the worst times.

But as Joel answered your question, you suddenly realized that he had been keeping those walls down just around you, for you, for a while now, “We were young. Far too young. But she was pregnant, and…”

You watched Joel struggle for the words as he shifted his gaze from your scar to your eyes, then back again, as if he was looking at options for what to say, turning them over in his mind before he settled on, “Getting married seemed like the right thing to do. I wasn’t going to be a deadbeat like my own old man.”

Slowly, you began to realize that you were addicted to this side of him—the Joel that opened up to you, telling you things that he may have not said aloud to anybody in years, if at all.

“I quickly learned it wasn’t what she wanted,” Joel huffed out quietly, his face pinching into a pained expression for a moment before it quickly cleared, but that brow was still furrowed, still enhancing every line of age and weariness on his face that you had grown to be so fond of. “She wasn’t ready for marriage, or kids. When she wanted to leave, I didn’t stop her.”

Subconsciously, your free hand lifted to smooth your fingers across the deep furrow in his brow, thumb stroking the wrinkles there. 

When the furrow of his brow finally smoothed out, and Joel glanced back at you with a small, hesitant smile, his thumb stroking along your hip, you melted back into him with relief that he wasn’t regretting letting you in on this little-known fact of his long, tumultuous life.

You wanted to know every crack and chip in Joel’s carefully constructed armor, to feel them underneath your fingers as you ran them over the hidden crevices of his life, knowing the parts of his soul so surely until you couldn’t distinguish them from your own.

“What about you?”

You froze up, blinking in surprise as Joel’s returned question sent nerves ricocheting through you, and you quickly looked away.

“Uh,” you hesitated, clearing your throat as you forced yourself to remove yourself from the present and think back through your life.

When Joel’s thumb stroked along your hip again, his hand squeezing you gently, in a gesture to reassure you that saying nothing was always okay, you found yourself saying, “No.”

“You haven't?” Joel murmured, and you laughed gently at the surprise in his voice at your confession.

“No, not really,” you finally whispered, still not meeting Joel’s gaze as you thought back through your childhood, your time in Seattle up to the whirlwind days with the Fireflies, and then to Jackson. “I mean…maybe I…”

You sighed, forcing yourself to pull your gaze up and finally meet Joel’s eyes.

And when you saw that they were nothing but open and understanding and devastatingly warm, a soft breath was pulled from your lungs, as if just the sight of him looking at you in such a way made you fall even more in love with him.

“So there was someone?” Joel finally asked gently, picking up on what you had left unsaid, his eyes moving over your face, lingering on the scar on your cheek before meeting your gaze again.

You shrugged, suddenly feeling frustratingly shy at the topic of a matter that was so utterly foreign to you, even as you were the one who had brought it up.

Combat? You could do combat, having learned how to fight even before the world went to shit at your father’s urging.

Sex? Oh, you could do sex. It was a familiar coping mechanism, a way to escape the cruel, harsh truths of existence, if only for a little bit.

But feelings?

Emotions?

Love?

Yes, you loved Joel, and you were comfortable telling him now, on more than one occasion. But you had never really talked about love as a whole this much, with anybody, and it frustrated you how out of your depth you still were in it.

But the way that Joel was looking at you now, like he knew what you didn’t, like he knew you—and you knew without a doubt that he did, better than you knew yourself even…it was comforting.

“Maybe,” you finally relinquished, shrugging a shoulder as you gazed up at his face. “I had a…friend.”

Another sigh pulled from your lips as you gently bit your bottom lip, shaking your head again, more to yourself as you thought back to your youth.

“In Seattle,” you elaborated, struggling to get yourself to relive those feelings, let alone admit them. “It was just a stupid crush. Nothing ever came from it.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Joel broke it by almost teasing in a gentle way, “There’s a but in there somewhere.”

You laughed, feeling a sense of relief at his rare show of humor that you cherished every glimpse of, unable to suppress the warmth it made you feel whenever you heard it.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, tilting your head back to glance over his face before looking away. “I guess…sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had stayed. Maybe…”

Trailing off again, you struggled to find the words, until Joel seemingly pulled them right from the deep subconscious part of your mind, or perhaps the buried longing in your heart, “Maybe you could have.”

Your face turned back to him, surprised eyes meeting those of complete understanding, and you softened.

“Yeah,” you murmured, giving a small nod as you watched him watch you.

“I had somebody like that,” he admitted, a frown pulling onto his face as you watched his eyes shift into an even more somber look than when he had been talking about his wife. In fact, it was almost…

“Back in the Boston QZ,” Joel continued, eyes darting away, and your lips parted in a silent breath that was pulled from you as you realized, oh.

Mournful.

His look was one of grief.

Your thumb stroked along his cheekbone, and Joel answered by stroking his own thumb along your hip, his grip tightening on you a fraction before he began to speak about this love lost, “We worked together for years. She was a…companion, I guess. A partner.”

The words sent some kind of nostalgic feeling through you, a memory dangling in the back of your subconscious.

I made a promise to someone.

Joel’s dark expression from then appeared in your mind, followed by your own words that had answered his quiet admission, and then his almost pained confirmation.

Must’ve been someone important, to do that for them.

Yeah.

When you remembered it, you found yourself saying softly, “She’s the one who wanted you to take Ellie, wasn’t she?”

Joel nodded slowly, not seeming surprised in the slightest that you had remembered your discussion in the nursery from so long ago.

“Yeah, Tess,” he said quietly, his voice almost choking on the name, and he cleared his throat as he turned his gaze away from you. “She was…”

You watched as Joel turned onto his back, and you gazed at his side profile, trying to find a pattern in the way his hair curled above his neck as you heard him mutter in a voice that was rough, nearly strangled with grief, “Fuck, she was better than me. She deserved so much more, and I couldn’t give it to her. I…”

Tears began to blur your vision as you heard him whisper almost more to himself than you, “I wasn’t enough.”

He sucked in a breath then, and your heart broke at the way you could hear it shake, your hands reaching out to hold him close, burying your face into his chest as his arms wrapped around you by reflex when he felt your embrace.

“Think that’s what I’m most afraid of, darlin’,” he whispered, and you squeezed your eyes shut at the weight of the somber revelation, feeling a few stray tears fall down your cheeks. “Not being enough. Never being enough.”

For a moment, you thought he wasn’t going to say anything else as silence filled your room, but when he mumbled again, you pulled yourself up to look at the man who you knew was the love of your life—maybe every life you ever had, and would have.

“What are you afraid of?”

You took another deep breath, wishing that you didn’t have to answer. Wishing that you could just fade into him, without ever having to leave this moment.

But after all this time, Joel deserved an answer. You knew he did.

And so you steeled yourself, treating it as casually as talking about the weather, even as your voice shook as you whispered one simple word.

“Loss.”

Joel froze, his body stiffening underneath where your chest rested against his. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the world even as you continued, “I’ve lost so much, I can’t—I can’t…”

He didn’t say anything then, even as his body relaxed again, because he knew.

You knew, you both knew, that loss was everywhere. You had both lost so much already.

No, not just so much, but everything. You had both fucking lost everything.

There were no promises you could make, no vows that would erase the ever-haunting possibility that somebody might not come home at the end of the day.

In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but marvel at what a pair you were.

Here you were, afraid of losing a peace that could never really be yours to lose in the first place.

And Joel, afraid that he wasn’t enough to…

To what, exactly?

Not enough to protect those he vowed to himself to keep alive?

Not enough to make those he cared about happy?

Not enough for you to give up on the false hope of ever finding peace?

“Is it enough?” the three words falling from Joel’s lips made your eyes reopen, gazing down at the tired lines of his face, pinched in a way that told you he was holding back a wave of emotions, your throat choking up at the sight of your strong, steadfast love so shattered by his own grief. “If…”

You exhaled heavily, nodding before you could even find the words.

Because despite the fears that held you captive awake or asleep, you knew Joel. You knew your love for him, his love for you, and even if there was a day to come where one of you would be left without it…

“It’s enough,” you whispered, tears falling down your face to mix with his as you leaned down to press a kiss to his lips, one that assured him of what you both needed to know. For however long you had him, however long you could love him…

It was enough.

taglist: @darkroastjoel @thetriumphantpanda @sinsofsummers @dinsdjrn @cupofjoel @cavillscurls @tightjeansjavi @cynibuns

[artists-ally]

HC of being mated to xaden and azriel!!!

{Azriel x Reader x Xaden Mates Headcanon}

Say less babe 😏 definitely a little NSFW, NO MORE IRON FLAME SPOILER!!!! JUST FOR YOU ANON!!!!

~~~~~~~

I think there would be little to no privacy ever again

With two of the most powerful shadow wielders in the world? You can kiss any ounce of secrecy goodbye

They know everything about you

But you like it

They know exactly what you like, and what you don’t

Azriel is definitely more reserved, will opt to stay in on a night out

Xaden will let out that wild side of him only to get you to join in

But only occasionally, during Solstice or another holiday, will the two of them let go completely and rope you into it

When it comes to relationship things, it was a STRUGGLE to find a balance

Being mated to two very headstrong, stubborn, independent and dominant males was hard

They constantly fought for your attention (sometimes physically)

But that was also so hot????

Who wouldn’t want to have the two of them fighting for you?

Anyway

There has been more than one altercation involving who got who, how to share you and all that

They were NOT in agreement with before the bonds clicked into place

And when they did? The world almost collapsed

It was an absolute fury of bodies and tongues and teeth

It somehow all clicked together, like they had done it all their lives. Knowing exactly what to do with their hands, with the shadows

Though their abilities were slightly different, the feeling of them on your skin, on your wrists holding you down was more or less the same

It was hypnotizing

Addicting

If there was one thing they agreed on it was pleasing you

That they liked a little too much

They liked teasing you even more

Azriel was a patient bastard and could hold up a threat like his life depended on it

He would not forget all the times you were a brat. He knew how to punish you properly to get you to behave after

The problem was you just kept finding new ways to break the rules

Xaden like to punish you with pleasure until your body physically couldn’t take it anymore

Forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you until you could barely breathe

That was his way of punishing you

It had taken a while for the inner circle to warm up to the concept, the same with Xaden and his Wing back home in Basgiath

Everyone at Basgiath was far too afraid of Azriel to begin with to even think differently

But when it all fell into place it wasn’t weird at all

Everything was perfect: the constant spoiling, the constant reassurance that you were the most perfect mate for both of them

The aftercare and simple date nights were what you loved for. Seeing both of your warriors showering you with kisses and praises of how much they loved and appreciated you for all that you did, all the comfort, peace, and security you brought them

There was one thing for certain: you NEVER felt unsafe

Both of them constantly had tabs on you

It worried them sick when you once shut them out to focus on a task, whether that be for your education or simply reading a book

they tore through the house trying to find you

They had been so afraid something happened to you that they forced you to keep some of their shadows with you at all times

It was mildly annoying, but also incredibly endearing

It came in very hand when you needed to get out of a sticky situation

There had been an incident when a male approached you in the street

You tried to warn him to back off, but just kept advancing

Azriel came first

Then Xaden

And the male nearly shit himself

Both of them were a head taller than you, and a head taller than the male

Just their presence made the male run for the hills

You could feel the power radiating off them, feel it vibrating in the air

Both of them asked you numerous times if he had touched you (he hadn’t) and checked every inch of you for harm

And if you got a paper cut or bruise?

It only doubled

Being sick was such a luxury that sometimes you faked a cold just to have them take care of you ;)

At the end of they day, they just wanted you and only you to care for them

Azriel would gladly let you clean his wings

Xaden would gladly let you massage his shoulders and back, kissing every one of those scars marked into his skin

You were never cold when you went to bed

And you had never felt so loved and appreciated and cherished in your life

[ghoulie-67-baby]

Tally- Doctor Who.

Summary: You’re running from the silence. You’ve been separated from the doctor and the Ponds and life seems to be slowly coming to an end. What if the madman doesn’t come to save you?

Warnings: Fear, pain, mentions of death, dehydration, exhaustion, pet names, mentions of hallucinations, crying.

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x GN!reader. (Platonic or otherwise.)

Word count: 1,151.

The rushing of blood echoed in my ears and my limbs ached with exhaustion. I had been running for god knows how long and I just seemed to get more lost. I allowed myself a break, falling to my knees in the fine, desert sand, chest heaving as I caught my breath. Dizzying pain ripped through my ribs from the stitch I had; I knew I couldn't stop for long. I didn't know what I was running from, but the fear that had acclimated forced me to run. Whatever it was, my body was in fight or flight and my senses told me it was something life-threatening.

An assortment of tally marks stained my skin, and though I knew I was the one who put them there, I couldn't remember why and that chilled me to the bone. The marker pen in my pocket seemed to dig into my flesh as my ears caught a gurgling sound behind me. My head turned slowly to face the noise as my hand grappled to pull the pen from my jeans as the creature came into view. My body felt as though it was sinking into the ground as I scrambled against the ground.

The wind seemed to pick up out of nowhere as it lumbered closer to me, kicking sand into the air around us. I groaned in pain as it blew into my eyes, blinking furiously.

My mind felt fuzzy as the sand finally cleared and I sat up, shaking my head to clear it before standing. My heart was beating a million miles an hour, but I didn't understand why. Fresh markings littered my skin and I stared at them, questions and fears rolling around in my head. My eyes watered as I scraped through my mind to work out what was happening but all I could work out was I was terrified and whatever I was terrified of was causing me to lose my memory.

I let out a few sobs as I fought off my panic before huffing out a long sigh. Now wasn't the time to break down, now was the time I needed to run and find someone who knew what was happening. I had to keep moving. I was in a desert with no food or water and was constantly moving. I wasn't stupid, I knew I had days to live in this condition and I didn't know how long I had been running for.

In the past hour, I had gained a total of 11 extra tallies despite the empty desert around me. My legs were barely holding me up, knees trembling with exertion but I forced myself to keep going. I longed for the wheezing of that beautiful blue box to fill the dry air, desperate to feel the cold metal of her interior on my scorched flesh. And that madman's voice to just tell me everything was okay, that he had fixed everything and I was safe but I had slowed to a stumble.

I didn't have the energy to run anymore and soon I would collapse, the sand would cover me and I would be forgotten to the world. There was no TARDIS on the horizon, no Doctor to save me and no Ponds to make me feel better.

Precious tears streamed down my face as my body gasped for breath, pain flaring through my body as my knees buckled beneath me. I didn't want to die, not like this and not in such a beautifully dangerous place but as hope drained from my body, I was slowly coming to terms with it.

"Y/N!" My head snapped up at the voice and my eyes zeroed in on the gorgeous blue monument ahead of me. "Don't give up, keep going," I scoffed at the hallucination of the Doctor, of course, it was him my dying brain would imagine. "You're nearly there now, Love." I clambered to my feet unsteadily, if I was going out then I might as well use every ounce of energy.

The sun glared into my eyes as I trudged along, feet slipping against mounds of sand. The TARDIS seemed to get closer and I had a horrible feeling that as soon as I reached her, I was going to die. She was like my light that people warned you not to walk into. So be it, I'd die happy if they were my afterlife.

"Nearly there, come on, you can do it." He coaxed me closer, holding open the door as I kicked up sand in my fight to reach him. I held my hand out towards the Timelord, his hallucination blurred by tears as I closed my eyes to welcome death.

But death never came. Instead, my hand was met with the calloused skin of another as fingers curled around my own. He was never a hallucination.

My eyes shot open as the hand pulled me forward, the familiar creaking of the TARDIS door behind me, as I all but fell into the police box and into waiting arms. The pen in my pocket clattered to the floor as I gripped the tweed jacket and buried my head against the time lord.

"I know, you're safe, Love, just breathe." My sobs echoed through the console as my body became overwhelmed with relief and pain, dragging me through a tidal wave of emotion.

I gasped as we sunk to the floor; pain, exhaustion, confusion, fear, relief, and happiness all at once. The chest beneath my head vibrated as softly spoken words carried me through the feelings.

"I've got you, you're safe," he whispered into my ear, my gasps settling to shuddering breaths. "I'm so sorry Y/N," my body leant against him bonelessly as his hand smoothed over my hair, the other rubbing gentle circles into my back. "That's it, good job, Love." Silence followed as I clung to him, the ambience of the TARDIS comforting me. After a few minutes, I tilted my head to look into those beautifully old eyes and smiled weakly.

"Knew you'd find me," I whispered, ignoring my hoarse throat. "Cutting a bit short weren't you." I teased, his green eyes glazed with tears as he smiled down at me, wiping my cheeks gently.

"We had some trouble," he chuckled, "Someone didn't want us to find you but I couldn't let that slide now could I? Not for one of my favourite humans eh?" I forced my arms to wrap around him, gripping the back of his jacket in a hug and buried my head in his neck as the past few days caught up with me.

I was safe now, my body had clocked on to that fact. I couldn't help how my eyes slipped closed as I relaxed into the Timelord's grip, finally letting my body and mind shut down to recover from the ordeal.

He would always save me, no matter what.