#and learning how wrong he was when he said that

[its-avalon-08]

Could you write something where reader and Lando have been in a relationship and reader has a heart condition and she never told Lando so he didn’t stress about her and to focus on racing, and Lando and her brake up because he stupidly told her he wants to focus on racing this year and after she left he realised his mistake as all the little things reader did for him before a race are all gone and everything just feels wrong and when he tries to contact her he can’t find her until a few weeks later he gets a call from the hospital that reader has fallen unconscious and when he gets there he then learns about her heart condition and that stress is not good for her heart. But happy ending.

heart flutters (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, comfort, heart condition

The morning sun slipped through the curtains, casting a soft glow over Lando’s bedroom. Y/N was lying beside him, her hand resting on his chest, her breathing soft and steady. Lando felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he looked down at her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

He couldn’t quite remember when his mornings had become this perfect, but he knew Y/N had something to do with it.

She shifted, blinking awake, and her sleepy smile met his gaze. “Good morning, love,” she murmured, voice still thick with sleep.

"Morning," he replied, kissing her forehead. "Did you sleep okay?"

“Always do when I’m with you,” she replied, snuggling closer. “Although I could do without you hogging the blanket,” she teased, giving him a playful poke.

Lando laughed, pulling her closer. “Alright, alright, I’ll work on it.”

These mornings together, the lazy Sundays and cozy, laughter-filled moments, were Y/N’s specialty. She seemed to know exactly what he needed, especially on race days. She’d wake up early with him, helping him calm his nerves and making sure he had everything he needed. And every time, he’d find some new way she was taking care of him, even if it was something small—like hiding a little note in his helmet, wishing him luck.

“Hey,” Y/N said, watching his thoughtful expression. “You okay?”

Lando nodded. “Just thinking about how lucky I am,” he admitted, his voice soft.

Y/N blushed, rolling her eyes a little. “You’re getting sappy on me, Norris.”

“Just telling it like it is,” he replied, smiling as he watched her try to hide her smile.

They went about their morning, with Y/N humming along to the soft music playing in the kitchen as she made breakfast. She slid a plate across to Lando, along with a steaming cup of his favorite coffee. He took a sip, sighing in contentment. She’d even managed to get his coffee just right.

"Alright, mister," she said with a smirk, sitting down beside him. "What's the game plan today?"

"Game plan?” he teased, raising an eyebrow. “Thought you were the expert at making my plans.”

“Maybe,” she replied, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “But I like to think I’m just the support. You’re the superstar here.”

Lando rolled his eyes, chuckling. “You’re more than support, Y/N. You’re… you’re my everything, you know that?”

Y/N smiled, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, something he didn’t notice, too wrapped up in the moment. She covered it up with a quick laugh, brushing it off. “And you’re mine. Just… try not to get too cocky on track, alright?”

He laughed, squeezing her hand. “Can’t make any promises.”

Their relationship was filled with moments like these—easy, natural, just them being themselves. Y/N grounded him, kept him steady, especially when the world of racing felt overwhelming. She never burdened him with anything else, always making sure his focus was on the track. And she always brushed off his attempts to give back, saying his happiness was all she needed.

But it was Lando who felt like he needed her more than he’d ever admit.

As they finished breakfast, she reached out, taking his hand. "You'll do amazing, Lando," she said quietly. "You always do."

"I only do so well because of you, you know that?" he replied, squeezing her hand.

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes again, but there was warmth there, too. “Alright, alright, enough with the sweet talk. Go focus on your race and be the best you can be out there. That’s all I ask.”

Lando leaned in, kissing her softly. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Norris,” she replied, grinning as she kissed him back.

As he left for the track, he felt a familiar sense of calm wash over him. Y/N had this way of making everything feel right, grounding him no matter what lay ahead. He knew, deep down, that he’d never be able to thank her enough for everything she did for him.

And for Y/N, watching him walk out the door with that smile, she knew that was exactly how she wanted it to be.

--

It was late, and the rain was tapping against the window of Lando’s apartment as he paced back and forth, hands tangled in his hair. The 2024 season had been brutal, every race pushing him to his limit, the pressure of a potential world championship win weighing on him like a mountain. He could practically taste the victory, but the stress of it all had made him someone he barely recognized.

Y/N was sitting on the couch, arms crossed as she watched him pace. She’d noticed it for weeks now, the way he was shutting her out, snapping at her for even the smallest things, as if she were just another distraction.

Finally, she broke the silence, her voice sharp. “Lando, can you stop pacing for two seconds and talk to me?”

He stopped, sighing heavily as he turned to face her. “What do you want me to say, Y/N?” he muttered. “That I’m exhausted? That I can’t focus with all of this going on?”

“All of this?” she echoed, hurt flashing across her face. “What’s ‘all of this,’ exactly? Because I thought we were a team, Lando. I thought I was helping you!”

“Helping me?” he scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N, I have to focus. Every race, every lap, every second counts right now. I can’t… I don’t have time to be dealing with you—”

“Dealing with me?” Her voice was sharp, a bitter laugh escaping her. “Lando, I’ve done nothing but support you. Every single time you’re struggling, I’m here. And now you’re telling me I’m… I’m a distraction?”

He clenched his fists, too frustrated to back down. “That’s exactly what I’m saying! Every time I’m around you, I feel like I’m being pulled in a million directions. I need to focus on racing, Y/N. I need this championship.”

“And what about us, Lando?” she demanded, standing up, her own anger now matching his. “Do I mean anything to you anymore, or am I just some inconvenience? Because that’s exactly how you’re making me feel.”

He looked away, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “Maybe it’s just not working anymore.”

Her eyes widened, the pain in them unmistakable. She took a shaky breath, her voice barely a whisper. “So that’s it? Just like that? You’re giving up on us?”

“Maybe I am,” he snapped, though even as he said it, something twisted painfully in his chest. “Maybe I need to focus on my career. I can’t have anyone holding me back right now.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “Holding you back? I’m holding you back, Lando? After everything I’ve done? The sacrifices I’ve made, the nights I stayed up worrying for you, the races I watched, praying you’d come home safe… that’s ‘holding you back’?”

“You just don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice softer now but still laced with frustration. “You don’t get the pressure I’m under, Y/N. I have a chance to win this championship, and I can’t be thinking about anything else.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” she replied, her tone cold. “You’ve let this championship turn you into someone I barely recognize. The Lando I knew would have never pushed me away like this.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” he said, the words hitting her like a slap.

She swallowed hard, the hurt on her face plain to see. But she wasn’t about to let him get away with this. “You’re right,” she replied, her voice trembling with anger. “Maybe I don’t know you anymore. Because the man I fell in love with would have never treated me like this. He wouldn’t have thrown away everything we have because he’s too blinded by his own ambition.”

“Fine,” he spat, his anger still raging. “Maybe you should just leave, then.”

Silence fell between them, the weight of his words settling like a stone in the room. Y/N stared at him, her eyes filling with tears, but she refused to let them fall.

“Don’t worry, Lando,” she said, her voice breaking slightly as she grabbed her coat from the back of the chair. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your precious championship.”

She turned toward the door, but stopped just before leaving, looking back at him one last time. “I hope it’s worth it, Lando. I really do.”

And with that, she was gone, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing in the silence of the apartment.

Lando stood there, the anger that had been burning inside him now replaced by a hollow ache. He’d gotten what he’d wanted—he was free to focus on his racing. But as he looked around the empty room, he realized just how empty his life felt without her.

--

Lando sat alone in his dimly lit apartment, the silence pressing in on him like a weight he couldn’t shake off. It had been two weeks since Y/N had walked out. At first, he told himself he’d done the right thing, that he needed to focus on racing, that he couldn’t afford any distractions. But now, all he could feel was the aching void she’d left behind.

Race weekend had come, and the pre-race routines—the moments that had once been so seamless, so comforting—now felt cold and empty. His helmet was sitting on the counter, untouched. There were no little notes tucked into his bag, no reminders to stay safe, no lucky charm slipped into his hand just before he left for the track. Y/N had always known what to do, how to make him feel like he could conquer the world. Now, everything just felt wrong.

He leaned against the counter, clutching the edge, his heart pounding as he stared down at his helmet. The knot in his chest tightened with each passing second, a harsh reminder of how badly he’d messed up.

“Lando?” Max entered the room, noticing his tense expression. “You alright, mate? You don’t look yourself.”

Lando managed a hollow smile, waving him off. “I’m fine.”

But Max wasn’t convinced. He took a seat across from him, eyeing him carefully. “You’ve been off these past few weeks. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

“Yeah, just… racing stress, you know?” Lando muttered, though he knew it was a lie. It wasn’t racing stress—it was Y/N. She’d been his anchor, the one person who made him feel like he was more than just a driver. Without her, he felt like he was falling apart.

Max raised an eyebrow, skeptical but respectful enough not to push further. “Alright, well… if you need anything, let me know. You know I’m here for you.”

“Thanks,” Lando replied, trying to keep his voice steady. But as Max left, the emptiness clawed at him even more fiercely. He glanced back down at his helmet, the silence in the room growing louder, deafening.

He couldn’t hold it in any longer. He slumped down onto the floor, burying his face in his hands as memories flooded him. He remembered the way Y/N would look at him with those warm eyes, her voice filled with gentle reassurance.

The more Lando went through his days, the more he noticed just how much Y/N had been woven into every corner of his life. Each time he stumbled over a small moment they used to share, it was like a painful reminder of how deeply he had messed up.

Race Day Routine

When he sat down for breakfast the morning of his next race, he instinctively reached for the small bag she’d usually leave out for him—one filled with his favorite snacks, electrolyte packets, and a note in her neat handwriting that usually said, “For that extra boost, love. You’ve got this.” Every race day morning, she’d make sure his essentials were perfectly packed, knowing how easily he’d forget them in the rush.

But the counter was empty, and so were his hands. There was no note, no bag, no encouraging message. He’d scoffed at how overprotective she’d been, thinking he could handle it himself. Now, as he fumbled to prepare for his race on his own, the empty counter felt like a gaping hole in his chest.

Before the Race

In the paddock, he felt it again, the silence louder than ever. Y/N would always make sure to slip away with him for just a moment before he stepped into the garage, giving him a quiet pep talk when he needed it most. Her words, so full of calm and warmth, used to steady him, keeping the pressure from crushing him. She’d take his face in her hands, look him straight in the eyes, and remind him, “It’s just you and the track. Nothing else matters. Drive like only you can.”

He’d rolled his eyes at her sometimes, told her he didn’t need the cheesy encouragement—but she’d insisted anyway, saying, “Well, too bad, because you’re getting it.” Her words were like armor, a shield she’d wrapped around him before every race.

Now, standing alone by his car, he could feel the pressure creeping in, gnawing at him, and there was nothing to keep it at bay. He glanced around, almost expecting to see her in the crowd, but of course, she wasn’t there.

Late Nights in the Simulator

Back at the team facility, he spent more time than ever practicing, pushing himself harder, trying to keep his mind from drifting back to her. But even here, she’d left her mark. On the long nights, Y/N used to bring him coffee, perfectly made just the way he liked it, and sit beside him, giving him quiet company. She wouldn’t say much, just enough to keep his spirits up, occasionally throwing him an encouraging smile as he took lap after lap in the simulator.

And when he’d get frustrated, when he’d curse and slam his fists on the table, she’d place a calming hand on his shoulder, reminding him, “You’re Lando Norris, you can do this. Don’t let the tough laps get to you. Breathe.”

Now, he sat there, tense and alone, his coffee lukewarm and forgotten. No hand to steady him, no quiet reassurance. The simulator felt cold, and so did he.

At Home, Late at Night

Even the nights felt wrong. Y/N had always insisted on turning on the small night light for him, a tiny habit she’d developed when she realized that he hated stumbling around in the dark after a race, too exhausted to find his way. He’d teased her about it, saying he didn’t need it, but she’d laugh, saying, “Well, one of us does.” She’d make sure it was on for him every night she stayed over, like clockwork.

Tonight, he sat in the pitch-black room, the silence pressing in, the absence of the warm glow almost suffocating. He clenched his fists, swallowing against the ache that was rising in his throat. He missed her laugh, her teasing, the tiny acts of love she’d filled his life with.

Flashback

“You’re going to be amazing today, Lando,” she’d whisper, holding his hand just before he stepped onto the track. “Just remember, it’s not about winning or losing to me. I love you just the same, no matter what.”

And he’d feel his nerves melt away. She had a way of making him feel like he could face anything.

Now, without her, the fear crept back in, gnawing at him from the inside.

He pressed his palms into his eyes, a shaky breath escaping him. “God… what have I done?”

Every little thing she used to do, every act of kindness, every word of encouragement—he’d taken it all for granted. He thought he could focus better without her, that his life would be easier. But instead, all he felt was the emptiness of her absence, like a cold shadow in every corner.

His phone buzzed on the counter, and his heart jumped, a surge of desperate hope flooding him as he reached for it. But it was just a message from his manager.

Frustration tore through him, and he tossed his phone down, clenching his fists. He could still hear her voice in his head, her words from their last fight haunting him.

Flashback to Their Argument

“Don’t worry, Lando,” she’d said bitterly, her voice cracking. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your precious championship.”

He remembered her eyes, red and tear-filled, as she looked at him one last time, filled with a pain he’d caused. He remembered thinking he was doing the right thing, choosing his career, telling himself he couldn’t afford to be vulnerable.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered to himself, feeling a tear slip down his cheek.

Everything felt different without her. The things he used to love—the rush of the track, the thrill of competition—they all felt meaningless now. He was pushing himself harder than ever, but it wasn’t out of passion. It was to numb the ache she’d left behind, to keep himself from falling apart.

But no matter how fast he drove, how hard he pushed, he couldn’t outrun the realization.

Race Day Morning

He stood in front of the mirror, suit half-zipped, his hands gripping the sink as he stared at his own reflection. His face looked drawn, the shadows under his eyes deep. The loneliness, the guilt, the regret—it was all written there, plain as day.

“You look terrible,” he muttered to himself, voice hollow.

He remembered the way she’d stand beside him, fixing his collar, laughing as she reminded him to keep his head cool. And now, all he had was his own reflection staring back at him, mocking him with his own emptiness.

Finally, the weight became too much, and he grabbed his phone, his fingers shaking as he typed her number. He didn’t know what he was going to say, didn’t know if she’d even answer. But he couldn’t keep going like this. He needed to apologize, to tell her how wrong he’d been, how much he missed her.

The phone rang, each ring feeling like an eternity. Just as he was about to give up, her voicemail clicked on.

“Hey, it’s Y/N… leave a message.”

He swallowed hard, the sound of her voice hitting him like a punch to the gut. Taking a shaky breath, he spoke, his voice breaking.

“Y/N… it’s me. I… I don’t know if you’ll ever listen to this, but I just… I’m so sorry.” His voice trembled, each word spilling out like a confession. “I was wrong, okay? I thought I needed to focus, but without you… everything’s falling apart. I miss you. I miss… us. Please… please just… call me back.”

He hung up, feeling the weight of his own words settle over him. But there was nothing else he could do now, except hope—hope that somehow, she might still care, might still give him a chance to fix the mess he’d made.

--

Lando had tried everything. He’d called, texted, even reached out to her friends, hoping someone could tell him where she was. But no one had any information; she’d slipped away completely. Days turned into weeks, and with each one, the realization sank deeper: she might never come back.

One night, Lando sat alone in his apartment, drained and unfocused, his phone resting on the coffee table. His mind was restless, jumping between regret and desperation, reliving their last fight, the look in her eyes as she’d walked out.

Then, the phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts. He grabbed it without thinking, not even checking the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Is this Lando Norris?” a calm, professional voice asked.

“Uh… yeah, this is him,” Lando replied, his heart pounding.

“This is Dr. Kapoor from St. Thomas Hospital. You’re listed as an emergency contact for Y/N Y/L/N.”

Lando’s stomach dropped, his throat suddenly dry. “Yes, yes, that’s me… is she alright? What happened?”

“She was brought in unconscious a few hours ago,” the doctor explained. “We’ve stabilized her, but we’d like you to come in as soon as possible.”

Lando didn’t need to hear anything else. He muttered a frantic “I’m on my way” before grabbing his keys and running out the door.

The drive to the hospital felt endless, each passing second stretching painfully as he sped down the empty streets. His mind raced with possibilities, the worst scenarios creeping in, twisting his insides. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly they were white.

By the time he burst through the hospital doors, he was gasping for breath, his heart pounding as he frantically searched for her room. A nurse pointed him down the hall, and he bolted, not caring how he looked, just needing to see her, to know she was alright.

He found her room and stopped, momentarily frozen by the sight before him. Y/N lay in the hospital bed, pale and fragile, wires and monitors surrounding her. The steady beep of her heart monitor filled the room, grounding him slightly, but the sight of her like this tore at him. Slowly, he stepped forward, his throat tight, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

Just as he was about to speak, the doctor entered.

“Mr. Norris?” Dr. Kapoor’s voice was gentle, sensing his distress.

Lando nodded, barely able to manage a word. “What… what happened to her?”

Dr. Kapoor took a deep breath, her expression softening. “Y/N has a heart condition called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. It’s a condition that can be exacerbated by stress, which could lead to fainting or, in severe cases, even heart failure.”

Lando’s face fell, his voice barely a whisper. “She… she never told me.”

“She might not have wanted to worry you,” the doctor said. “It’s common for patients with this condition to keep it private, especially if they think it might place a burden on others.”

Lando’s heart twisted, a wave of guilt washing over him as he realized why she’d never mentioned it. She hadn’t wanted him to stress, to worry, especially during the season when he’d been under so much pressure. She’d always put him first, even to the point of hiding something so serious.

He took a shaky breath, blinking back tears. “Can I… can I see her?”

The doctor nodded. “She’s stable now, and she’ll likely wake up soon. But remember, keeping her calm is crucial. She’ll need rest and minimal stress to recover.”

Lando swallowed, nodding quickly, but he couldn’t keep the emotion out of his voice. “I’ll… I’ll take care of her. I swear.”

Dr. Kapoor offered him a small, understanding smile before leaving the room, giving him a moment alone with Y/N.

Lando stepped closer, reaching out to gently take her hand. His thumb traced over her knuckles, and he noticed how cold her hand felt in his.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’m so sorry. I should have been there. I should have known.”

He sat beside her, the weight of everything hitting him all at once. “I was so… so stupid. I thought I needed to focus on racing, but… God, I was wrong. I was so wrong. You’re… you’re everything, Y/N. None of this means anything without you.”

He stayed like that, holding her hand, his head bowed as he let himself cry for the first time in weeks. All the pride, all the anger—it had melted away, leaving only the raw, aching regret of having pushed away the one person who truly loved him.

After a few minutes, he felt her fingers twitch slightly in his hand. His head shot up, hope flooding his chest as he saw her eyes slowly blink open.

“Y/N?” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

She blinked up at him, confusion flickering across her face before her gaze settled on him, and he saw a flash of pain in her eyes. “Lando…?”

He took a deep breath, his grip on her hand tightening. “I’m here. I’m right here, love.”

She tried to sit up, wincing as the monitor beeped slightly faster. Lando was quick to place a hand on her shoulder, his touch gentle but firm. “Hey, don’t… don’t push yourself. Just… just rest.”

She looked away, her voice barely a whisper. “Why are you here, Lando? I thought… you wanted to focus on racing.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, but he forced himself to face her, to let her see the remorse in his eyes. “I was wrong, Y/N. I was so, so wrong. I thought I needed to do it alone, that I couldn’t let myself get… attached. But all I did was ruin the best thing in my life.”

Her expression softened, and he saw her blinking back tears. “You really hurt me, Lando. I didn’t ask you for much. I just wanted to be there for you, and you… you made me feel like I was a burden.”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “And I hate myself for it. You did everything for me, and I didn’t see it until you were gone. I love you, Y/N… I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and he reached up, brushing it away with a tenderness that spoke of all the things he wished he’d done sooner. “I’m here now,” he continued. “And if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

She looked at him for a long moment, searching his face, and finally nodded, her hand squeezing his. “You hurt me, Lando. But… I still love you, too.”

Relief flooded his face, and he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I’ll be better. I promise.”

For the first time in weeks, Lando felt a spark of hope, knowing he had a chance to rebuild what he’d nearly thrown away. And as he sat beside her, holding her close, he vowed never to let her feel alone again.

--

Lando had been the perfect caretaker ever since Y/N was discharged from the hospital. He took her straight back to their apartment, rearranging everything in his life to ensure she was comfortable and safe. Every morning, he’d bring her breakfast in bed with a ridiculous grin, complete with heart-shaped toast and fresh orange juice. He filled her day with little surprises—flowers by her bedside, a new stack of her favorite books, and even a fuzzy blanket he’d bought just for her.

One night, Y/N woke up in the middle of the night, instinctively reaching for him, only to find his side of the bed empty. Confused, she sat up, rubbing her eyes. She hadn’t heard him get up, and her heart skipped slightly as worry bubbled up, wondering if something was wrong.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed, her bare feet padding softly as she went to look for him. She found him in the living room, seated on the couch with his laptop open and a small notebook by his side. His hair was tousled, and he had a focused, almost determined expression on his face as he typed something into the search bar.

“Understanding Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy” appeared on the screen, along with several videos, articles, and patient forums. Lando had a pen in his hand, and as he clicked on a video, she watched as he jotted down notes on a page, his handwriting a messy scrawl but full of sincerity. The video’s audio was soft, and she could hear the narrator explaining symptoms, risk factors, and the importance of a low-stress environment.

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears as she watched him, realizing just how much he was trying to understand, to do anything he could to protect her.

“Alright,” he muttered to himself, tapping the pen on the notebook. “Avoid stress… maybe I can start doing a weekly meditation with her or, like… yoga? Yeah, that might help. And… maybe I should keep her work stuff organized so she doesn’t feel overwhelmed.”

Y/N couldn’t hold back any longer. She quietly stepped forward, and Lando jumped slightly when he felt her curl up on his lap, but he immediately wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice tender as he brushed a hand over her hair. “What are you doing awake?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she murmured, tilting her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes were soft, full of gratitude and love, and Lando’s heart swelled.

He gave her a sheepish smile, glancing at the open notebook. “I… I wanted to make sure I was doing everything right. I know I’ve messed up before, and I want to be the best I can be for you now. So, I figured… I’d do my homework.”

Y/N let out a quiet laugh, blinking back tears. “You’re really… reading up on my condition?”

“Of course I am,” he said, his voice warm but serious. “I need to know how to keep you safe. How to make sure you’re not stressed out or worried, and…” He swallowed, his voice breaking just a bit. “I just want to make everything perfect for you, love.”

She buried her face in his neck, her heart aching in the best way possible. “Lando… you’re already doing more than enough. Just… being here with me, caring for me… it’s more than I could ever ask for.”

“But it doesn’t feel like enough,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “I’m never going to let you feel alone or unimportant again. You’re my world, Y/N. I want to make sure you’re as healthy and happy as you can be.”

She pulled back, looking at him with watery eyes, a small smile on her face. “Lando, I don’t need perfection. I just need you.”

His expression softened as he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Well, you’re stuck with me,” he said, grinning. “Because I’m not going anywhere. And I’m gonna keep studying this and doing everything I can to make sure you feel safe and loved.”

She laughed through her tears, leaning into his hand. “You already make me feel so loved. I don’t think you even realize it, but you do.”

Lando’s smile turned gentle, and he bent down to press a tender kiss to her forehead. “Good. Because I’m crazy about you, Y/N. I just want to be the person you deserve.”

She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his kiss settle over her, and wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re already that person, Lando. You always have been.”

He chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around her as he held her close. “Good. Because I’m not stopping until I see that smile on your face every single day.”

As Y/N nestled closer into his lap, her attention shifted to the laptop screen, where a doctor was speaking in a calm, measured tone.

“Managing stress is crucial for patients with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy,” the voice on the video explained. “Avoid situations that may induce high emotional stress. For instance, hostile conversations, arguments, or other confrontational exchanges can increase strain on the heart.”

Lando stilled, his gaze fixed on the screen as those words sank in. She could feel him tense beneath her, a flicker of regret passing over his face.

“That… makes sense,” he whispered, almost to himself. “I’ve been so selfish. I didn’t realize that my own stress… my own words… could actually make things worse for you.”

Y/N put her hand on his cheek, urging him to look at her. “Lando, it’s okay—”

“No,” he interrupted gently, meeting her gaze with a deep, remorseful look. “It’s not okay. I didn’t just make things stressful; I let you feel like you couldn’t even tell me what was going on with you. I was so wrapped up in myself… I can’t believe I was so blind.”

Y/N’s eyes softened as she watched him, the depth of his regret written all over his face. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “We’re here now. That’s what matters. You’re here, and I know how much you care.”

He exhaled slowly, wrapping his arms around her a little tighter. “I’ll never let stress come between us again, love. I promise.”

They sat together like that, wrapped up in each other, as the rest of the world faded away. Lando continued to stroke her hair, murmuring sweet promises of the future he envisioned for them. And for the first time in weeks, Y/N felt a calm settle over her, knowing that Lando was there, exactly where he wanted to be, and that he wasn’t going anywhere.

[punkshort]

Back to You

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: The stars never aligned for you and Dave growing up. You never thought you'd see him again once he went to college and joined the C.I.A., but one fateful day brings him back into your life - or more specifically, your husband's life.

Warnings: language, violence, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, heavy on the possessive behavior, jealousy, infidelity, a glimmer of dark!dave but in a obsessive, madly in love kind of way, graphic domestic abuse

WC: 10.8K

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Pain seared across your eyes, over the bridge of your nose and thrummed steadily against the top of your skull. The door was locked and you heard his car peel out of the driveway, but you laid curled up on the bathroom floor, body trembling in fear, still anticipating the sound of his heavy footsteps to clamber back up the stairs.

How the hell did you let it get to that point? How did you allow this to happen?

You had a bad habit of falling back into old memories whenever Mike hit you. You always wondered where you went wrong and what you could have done differently. Now? It felt like there was no escape. Even if you ran away, where would you go? He could find you anywhere. He told you that, once. And if he were just some run of the mill, blue-collar drunk, you wouldn't have believed him.

It was maybe ten years ago when he accidentally left the door to his office in the basement unlocked. You were doing laundry and saw the door was cracked, so you poked your head inside. He had told you before that it was nothing special, that it was just a quiet place for him to focus on work. He said he locked the door because the equipment on loan from his office was expensive and he couldn't risk anything happening to it. But what you saw was... not the type of equipment a man in finance would need.

Weapons were perched on the walls, sparkling clean and ready for use. You couldn't count how many computer monitors were mounted on the back wall, how many hidden cameras were placed around your home. But what drew your attention the most were the monitors that displayed a view from another house. Or, houses, as you would come to learn later.

His desk had high-tech looking equipment, tactical gear, files on men in a foreign language. Ten different cell phones were stashed away in a drawer along with countless fake passports and a whole duffel bag filled with a mix of foreign currency.

Mike was not the man he claimed to be.

And when he caught you snooping in his office, that was the first night he hurt you. Really hurt you.

You met him when you were a teenager, taken by the fact that he was a couple years older and seemingly wiser. Youth and naivety kept you from seeing who he really was. He was rough and possessive, but you thought you liked it. Before you knew it, he had proposed to you and almost fifteen years later, you were stuck in not only a loveless marriage, but a violent marriage.

And you had no way out. No means of escape.

When you finally stopped shaking, you stood to gather some ice for your face, pressing it tenderly against the bruises when the same inevitable thought crossed your mind:

Dave never would have done this.

Dave York. The boy who grew up next door to you. Who you went to school with all through high school. The boy you had a painful crush on for as long as you could remember, but who only saw you as just a good friend. Someone to hang out with over the summer. Someone to tag along with to the movies when he was bored. Someone to ride bikes with all over the neighborhood. Someone who gave you your first kiss after he convinced you to sneak out in the middle of the night but then made you swear not to tell anyone.

You had convinced yourself the kiss had meant nothing to him. Why would it, if he made you promise not to say anything? It broke your heart, but the idea of losing Dave as a friend hurt more, so you kept your mouth shut and pretended it never happened.

And you were okay with it. For a while. When you were eighteen, you met Mike, and for the first time, you had feelings for someone else other than Dave.

You were so excited to introduce them. Your closest friend meeting your first real boyfriend. But, of course, they clashed the moment they were introduced. Like two animals who sniffed each other out, they knew the other was bad news and from then on, things changed.

Mike asked that you didn't see Dave as much. It felt like being torn in two, but Dave was already applying to colleges out of state anyway, and it didn't take long until he was accepted.

Against Mike's wishes, you went to Dave's going away party. Alone. It was that day when Dave pulled you aside and confessed his feelings for you. Told you he was in love with you and begged you to come with him. Said that you had so much potential that you would just be wasting if you stayed home, with Mike. That he could take care of you.

And foolishly, you turned him down. At the time, you had convinced yourself what you had with Mike was real. He didn't try to hide you the way Dave did. He proudly had you on his arm from day one.

So, you made the biggest mistake of your life. You said no. Accused him of being jealous and ran home to Mike.

When Mike found out where you had been, he grabbed you by the throat and pushed you up against the wall. Spit obscenities in your face and told you never to lie to him again.

The next morning, he apologized. Said he had been drinking, that it would never happen again. You believed him, and he didn't do anything for another year. After that, the aggression slowly built up. It started with the verbal abuse, the accusations, and the lies. Then he grew more physical.

There wasn't one particular day when it all changed, it was a slow progression, but stumbling across his private office was certainly a bad day. The physical abuse was always linked with something big. Something big and terrible that you felt you did wrong. Over the years, that changed, too.

And now, present day, anything could set him off.

That particular evening, you had burnt the chicken for dinner, so he backhanded you across the jaw before grabbing you by the back of the neck and slamming your face into the refrigerator.

No, Dave York certainly would never have treated you that way. Your life could have been completely different had you not turned him down.

Little did you know, you would find out exactly how different soon enough.

You stared blankly at your computer, one eye still swollen but hidden pretty damn well under a thick layer of your best concealer. Thank god it was a slow day. Even if you didn't get much sleep the night before, allowing yourself to rest by pretending to work was enough to make you feel a little better.

The double espresso in your latte didn't hurt, either.

You had managed to become an expert at faking being busy at work. Zoning out was your speciality. So much so that you hardly heard the front doors of the bank swing open and shut, and only faintly heard the quiet tap of dress shoes on the tile making their way towards your general direction.

"Excuse me?"

Your body jumped at his voice, startling you out of your daydream. With your heart hammering in your chest, you narrowed your eyes at your computer, hoping to convey the look of someone deep in the middle of a very serious work issue.

"Sorry. Have a seat, I'll be right with you," you said without looking up. If you gave up your fake task too quickly, it would prove you weren't really working, so you opened up a few random files and pretended to jot down some notes, some random numbers and names, before clearing your throat and finally giving the man across from you your full attention.

Your jaw dropped. Heart plummeted to your stomach. Body rigid with shock.

It was him. It was Dave York. After fifteen years and never laying eyes on him, you could still pick him out of lineup. Those deep, brown eyes. Thick, slightly wavy hair. Chiseled jaw and angular nose. He was unmistakable.

"H-hi," you stammered, feeling your face warm instantly at your weak greeting. He just cocked his head at you, confused. Then you grew even more uncomfortable when it became clear he didn't recognize you.

You pointed meekly to your name tag, his eyes following your finger and watching as his face slowly filled with recognition.

What you had hoped would be a warm welcome turned out to only be a tight lipped smile and nod.

"Oh. Didn't realize it was you."

You waved him off and briefly looked back at your screen, unable to stand the embarrassment.

"How have you been, Dave?" you asked, pulling your focus away from your computer and back onto him. "Are you home visiting your family? Oh... it's your father's birthday next week, right?"

Something shifted behind his eyes. Something softer. Like he was taken aback but trying to hide it. Your suspicion was correct when he stumbled over his next words, the confidence and cool demeanor he strolled in with temporarily gone.

"How - you remember that?"

You nodded. "Of course, I do. How could I forget?"

The day Dave's father passed away, it was raining. Not just raining, but down pouring. Streets were flooding and everyone stayed huddled in their homes, safe and dry.

But not you.

When you heard the news, you had rushed to the abandoned tree house by the train tracks two blocks from your home. It was a safe place for you both. Whenever your parents were fighting, Dave would find you there. And when Dave's father got sick, you would find him there, too. You had scrambled up the wooden ladder, sheets of rain pelting your face, cascading down your shoulders and soaking through your thin raincoat. But when you hurried into the treehouse and found him, huddled and shaking in the corner with tears streaking down his cheeks, you forgot all about your discomfort. You rushed to him, pulled him into your arms and let him cry against your chest for an hour without saying a single word. The only noise was the distant rumble of thunder and the steady sound of harsh raindrops pelting the wooden roof.

You were both sixteen at the time.

Dave blinked and cleared his throat, shaking off the sudden warmth that filled his chest.

"No. I'm here on business."

He pulled out his badge from his suit coat and your eyebrows raised in surprise.

"C.I.A?" you said, "Wow. I mean, I thought I had heard something-"

"Need you to look up a couple accounts for me."

You clamped your mouth shut, trying to hide your dejection by looking across the lobby floor, but his icy tone and steely demeanor stung. You couldn't blame him, really, given how things ended the last time you saw each other, but you had held out hope that he had forgiven you at some point in the past fifteen years.

Seemed as though you were wrong.

"Y-yeah, sure. That - I can do that," you said, straightening up in your chair, determined to keep things purely professional, same as him. "What are the names and socials?"

He didn't even pull out a file or notepad, he had them memorized so he could keep his eyes locked on your face, studying you, watching for any glimmer of recognition or surprise when he told you the names.

"James Victor Turner."

You typed away on your keyboard, completely unphased by the name, much to his relief. He rattled off the social security number and waited a moment until you found the right person.

"Do you want me to email the account detail or something? That's usually what the feds have us do," you asked, turning back to him. He let your words hang in the air for a moment, searching your eyes for any sign of deceit. Finally, he nodded and slid his card across your desk.

"Email's on there."

Your gaze jumped from his face to the card, noting immediately his cell number was listed, as well, and suddenly the thought of having his cell phone number filled you with a deep sort of comfort you couldn't explain.

He gave you three other names, and every time he waited for a shift in your brow, a flinch in your cheek, or for your breath to quicken in alarm, but every time you remained completely indifferent and calm. He had learned how to read body and facial tells in the academy. He was very fucking good at it.

These names meant nothing to you.

Thank fuck.

"Is that all?" you asked when you emailed the last file. You thought you hid your hopefulness from your voice, that maybe he would say no, let's get a drink, let's catch up. But instead, he nodded and muttered his thanks. Then leaned to the side to slide his wallet back into his pants.

"You taking care of yourself?" he asked casually as he went to stand. "Husband treating you right?"

Now that got a reaction. Your brows tilted slightly, your gaze shifted away and you swallowed nervously. It was then he felt his blood run cold in his veins.

He was very fucking good at reading body language.

"Yeah," was all you said, then pretended to read something in your email. Dave stalled, heart beginning to thunder in his chest when he noticed. How did he miss it before?

"What happened to your eye?"

Your lips briefly pressed into a thin line before you forced a fake smile.

"I was cleaning over the weekend and something fell from the top shelf of my bathroom. Some luck, huh?"

Your tone was practiced. Disarming. He saw right through it.

"What fell?"

"Huh?" you asked.

"What fell from the shelf?" he repeated, watching as you tried to hide the panic behind your eyes. You were used to people not questioning your rehearsed excuses.

"Um, it - I think it was toothpaste."

"Toothpaste caused a shiner like that?" he pushed. He had places to be. He had to report back in less than ten minutes with his findings. But he couldn't seem to give a shit.

"It was still in the box. The corner caught me just right," you replied smoothly, pleased with your quick thinking. Dave slowly nodded, deciding to drop it and not make your day even worse.

Besides, he knew all he needed to know, anyway.

His hands fidgeted at his sides. His gaze slid around the lobby while he tried to think of something else to say. You watched him curiously.

"My number's on the card-"

"I know," you replied, cutting him off. He met your eye and you gave him a small smile. He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded tightly.

"Don't be afraid to use it."

And before you could react, he was halfway across the lobby. When he disappeared through the doors, you looked back down at his business card. Your finger traced the blue numbers indented into the card stock, the small rectangle somehow acting like a talisman. Settling your nerves, calming you.

Dave York came back to you.

An entire week went by and your thoughts rarely drifted from Dave. Every time the doors opened at work, your head snapped up, hoping to see him again. When you laid in bed at night, your husband sometimes there, sometimes not, you would lay awake staring at the ceiling, thinking of him. Wondering what he was doing, where he was staying.

If he was thinking of you, too.

Friday was your anniversary. Mike had promised to be on his best behavior after feeding you apologies for his bad mood lately. It was always the same, you knew he wasn't actually sorry for what he said and did, but you smiled and forgave him all the same.

He had gotten a reservation at a French restaurant, and even though he knew French cuisine wasn't your favorite, you still tried to appreciate the gesture. You had gotten dressed up to celebrate. You wore a mauve dress with a slit up the leg and thin straps that rested delicately over your shoulders. The bruises from the weekend before had faded. Your hair actually cooperated. You were feeling rather good about yourself.

Until it became clear Mike had picked the restaurant for another reason.

His gaze shifted all over the room whenever he thought you weren't looking. He was waiting for someone, you thought. His fingers tapped mindlessly on the cloth covered table while you sipped your wine and picked at your food, doing your best to finish what he ordered for you, too scared to rock the boat.

"How long's it gonna take for you to eat?" he snapped quietly, so as not to cause a scene. You looked up in surprise, poised to answer, when you froze. Over his right shoulder at the bar sat Dave York, nursing a short glass of amber liquid. And his eyes were pinned directly on you.

Mike must not have liked how you took an extra moment to answer because his arm shot out to grab your wrist, fingertips going white from the pressure he was applying. You hissed, attention refocused on him and his hand, as you tried to squirm out of his grip. In the corner of your eye, you saw Dave stand, but he didn't make a move towards your table.

"I did something nice for you and you can't be bothered to pay me any attention? On our anniversary?" he seethed. You wanted to tell him his attention had been elsewhere the entire night, that you weren't stupid and you knew something else was going on, but you bit your tongue. As usual.

"I-I'm sorry," you stammered, giving your arm one quick yank backwards, pulling away from his grasp. "I'm just not that hungry. My stomach hurts."

"Which is it? Not hungry or your stomach hurts?"

You rubbed your wrist under the table and looked into his eyes. You saw the anger bubbling up, just under the surface, and you knew then and there how the rest of the evening was going to go.

"Both," you shot back with a clipped tone.

His eyes widened and he leaned forward, no doubt about to unleash every horrid threat he could think of under his breath when he spotted something or someone behind you. Whoever he was waiting for all evening finally showed up.

Mike stood from the table and buttoned his suit coat.

"I'll be right back. Just saw an old golfing buddy." Then he pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger, flexing the digits harshly into your skin, making you wince. "I suggest you finish your food. We're leaving when I get back."

Then he was gone.

Your chest heaved and you took a shaky sip from your glass, looking to calm your nerves. Your eyes darted back towards the bar, but Dave was no where to be seen. Your heart sank. Just as you were resigning yourself to another evening of being on the receiving end of Mike's anger, you felt a gentle brush against your arm.

"Bathroom," Dave muttered as he walked past, heading towards the back of the restaurant.

You didn't even think. You tossed your napkin onto the table, standing up so fast you nearly knocked over your chair to hurry after him. The restrooms were down a short hallway and around a corner. Soft, classical music drifted from the speakers above you, the only other sound besides the click of your heels against the hardwood floors. When you turned the corner, Dave's arm immediately shot out to wrap around your waist, pulling you quickly out of view of the dining room.

He had swiveled you around so your back was against the wall, just past the two doors leading into the restrooms. If anyone exited the bathrooms, they would see Dave's body caging you in, clear as day.

The thought made your pulse thrum steadily in your throat.

"You need to promise me something."

Dave's voice was urgent. Like he was pressed for time.

"Huh?" you asked dreamily, lost for a moment in the warmth rolling from his body and the cloud of his cologne, engulfing you.

He opened his mouth to speak, then annoyance flickered across his face. He yanked out a nearly invisible earpiece, letting it dangle over his collar, and your eyes widened.

"A-are you... working?"

"Promise me," Dave said, grabbing you by the arms and ignoring your question, "that tomorrow night, you won't be home. You need to go out in public. Preferably with friends or family."

"What? Why?" you asked fearfully. You were snapping out of the spell he had managed to put you under. Lust was being replaced with alarm. The hairs on the back of your neck were rising.

"And use a credit card once or twice," he continued, staring deep into your eyes. "Can you do that? Hm?"

Slowly, you found yourself nodding. You had a million questions but you didn't bother to ask - he wasn't going to answer them anyway.

"Good," he breathed, looking visibly relieved. His shoulders relaxed and he let his hands drop from your upper arms to your wrists. His eyes flickered down to where Mike had grabbed you, light blue circles already developing before your very eyes. Dave's jaw twitched. "Good girl," he murmured, dragging his thumb over one of the marks. Your breath stuttered and your knees went weak, the energy between you dissolving back into something else. Something hungrier.

When his eyes met yours again, you could tell he felt it, too.

You were certain you moved at the same time. You pushed off the wall and titled your chin up just as he took a step forward and wrapped his arms around your waist. Your lips met for the first time in almost twenty years and just like that, you felt transported back in time. Anybody could have come down that hall and seen you, including your husband, but in that brief moment, you were safe inside your treehouse again. You were in the arms of the man who had been there since the beginning. Who knew you better than your own husband.

"He won't come home tonight," Dave whispered once he tore himself away. But he didn't go far. His hand had risen to cup your cheek and his forehead pressed gently against yours as he spoke. "Keep yourself safe. Go home, lock the doors, don't leave until tomorrow."

"Okay," you replied shakily, hands coming to lay flat against his chest. You could feel his heart pounding just underneath.

"Tell me what you're going to do tomorrow," he demanded firmly.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I'm going to go out with my friends. Somewhere public. And I'll use my credit card."

"Good," he breathed before kissing the tip of your nose. "When it's safe, I'll come get you."

"How?" you asked, gazing up into his dark brown eyes. They looked just as you remembered them. No longer were they cold and distant. Now, they were soft and warm and kind.

"I'll find you."

It was all he managed to say before you had to spring apart, the echo of footsteps tapping down the hall interrupting your moment. He turned away and pulled out his phone, pressing it against his ear as if he were taking a call. You ran your thumb under your lip, hoping to fix any smudges, and forced your feet to move past the other restaurant patron rounding the corner, back into the dining room. Away from Dave.

Even though there was definitely danger swirling somewhere around you, you knew you were safe, because Dave would be watching.

You didn't have many friends. Mike purposely made that difficult for you. But you did manage to have two friends from work who you occasionally went to dinner with or saw a movie together. So that was what you did. The three of you got dinner, where you used your credit card to pay, and then walked around the mall. One of your friends had a wedding coming up, so she dragged you from store to store as she hunted for the perfect dress. At one point towards the end of the night, you bought a tea with your card, claiming you felt a sore throat coming on.

Obsessively, you checked your phone. For what, you weren't exactly sure. Maybe a call from Mike, or something from Dave. You didn't give him your number but you had a feeling he had ways of finding that out for himself. But all evening, your phone remained silent. No texts. No calls. No news alerts. Nothing.

You dragged the night out as long as you could, but eventually your friends wanted to go home.

In the dark parking lot, you waved goodbye before turning in the direction of your parked car. It was almost eleven. That had to be enough time, right? Whatever it was Dave was trying to protect you from had to be over by then.

You fumbled for your keys in the dark, pulling them out of your purse nervously as you approached your car. You were all alone in that corner of the lot, but of course one sleek, black car had chosen to park right next to you.

You tried to keep your breathing steady as you approached, but right when you were a couple feet away from your bumper, the door to the black car swung open, startling you.

"It's me," a familiar, deep voice said. Then Dave stepped out of the car dressed in all black and your shoulders sagged.

"Oh, my god," you breathed, dragging in a ragged breath before leaning against your car. "You scared me."

Then you noticed a strange man unfurl himself from the passenger seat and you stiffened.

"It's alright," Dave assured you, glancing back at the other man for a moment. "This is Kovac. He's gonna drive your car to the hotel."

You furrowed your brow and clutched your keys to your chest.

"Why? Why can't I drive?"

Dave sighed as Kovac casually leaned against the trunk of your car and lit a cigarette.

"Because... I would prefer you drive with me. Just being extra cautious."

You considered it for a moment, looking around the empty parking lot as you shifted your weight from foot to foot until finally you relented and handed over your keys.

"I'll take good care of her," Kovac promised you, stubbing out his cigarette before unlocking your door and sliding into the driver's seat.

Dave rounded the front of his car and opened the passenger door for you. When you passed him, the scent of sweat and gunpowder flooded your senses. You slipped silently into the seat and he gently shut the door.

The hotel Dave took you to was not far away from the mall. You watched in the sideview mirror as Kovac tailed you both in your SUV.

"Don't you have any questions?" Dave finally asked, breaking the silence. You turned to look at him, his breathtaking side profile illuminated by the streetlights.

"I have probably a thousand."

"So... are you going to ask?"

You shook your head. "No. You wouldn't tell me, anyway."

The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement as he safely pulled into the hotel parking lot.

Kovac picked the spot directly next to Dave's car, turning off your SUV and joining the two of you in front of Dave's bumper.

"All set," he said, dropping the keys into Dave's palm.

Dave nodded and gave a subtle tilt of his chin towards another car parked a few spaces down. The headlights turned on and Kovac slipped into the front seat without another word or glance in your direction.

You looked up at the unassuming hotel as Dave led you into the lobby. It was middle of the road, average at best, affordable but not trashy. For some reason, you imagined Dave picking somewhere much swankier.

Dave immediately ushered you past the front desk and towards the rowdy sports bar just off the main entrance. He found a small, open spot against the bar and held out his hand.

"Give me the credit card you used earlier."

Without even questioning it, you handed it over. He bought your favorite drink and two shots of tequila, then handed it back to you. You smirked and pocketed it before taking the glass from him.

"How did you know my favorite drink?"

He shrugged and tossed back one of the shots. "Part of the job."

You took a sip from your glass, trying to hide your smile to no avail.

"I have to admit," you said, glancing around the crowded room. "This isn't the type of hotel I would have expected you to pick."

"No, it's not. But it's the type of hotel you would pick," he countered, fingers wrapping around the second shot of tequila. Your brows knit together in confusion while you watched him toss back the second shot. "C'mon. You don't have to finish that. Let's get you a room."

Your face fell, hoping he would have invited you to stay with him, but you quickly recovered. It had been so long since you had seen each other, and you were married, for fuckssake.

Not that it stopped him from kissing you in the restaurant the night before, but still.

Dave signaled for your card again when the receptionist was booking your room and you quickly handed it over. You rolled your head back and forth, working out the kinks in your neck while you waited. When she slid a piece of paper across the counter for you to sign, you did so as fast as possible. Dave's eyes lingered on your married name when the paper passed in front of him and he pursed his lips.

"Here's your key. Floor seven. Take a left when you get off the elevators and your room is around the bend," the receptionist said cheerily. You nodded your thanks and tucked away your card and receipt while you followed Dave to the elevators.

When you stepped into the car, Dave pressed the button for floor nine. You reached forward to press seven and he stopped you.

"The room's just part of the paper trail."

It took you a moment, but you caught up. Using your credit card at dinner, being with witnesses in a public setting, using your card at the bar and then again at the front desk. He was creating a rock solid alibi for whatever happened that night.

"Oh," you said softly, allowing your hand to drop back against your side.

Then, for the first time, Dave looked uncomfortable.

"Unless, of course, you want -"

"No," you said, cutting him off. "No, I want to be with you."

His eyes lit up but his mouth remained in a straight line.

"Okay, then."

You grinned and leaned next to him against the wall of the elevator, watching the little red numbers on the screen tick up, up, up, until it read nine.

"After you," Dave said, holding open the doors and ushering you out. You gave him a shy smile and stepped forward, then waited for him to lead the way. The entire walk down the hall felt like a fever dream. Your heart was pounding loudly in your ears with each muffled step against the worn out carpet. It was quiet, but when you passed by the other rooms, you could hear televisions playing or people laughing, completely oblivious to whatever it is you were about to do.

Dave tapped his plastic keycard against the sensor, the little light flashing from red to green with a loud click. When you entered his room, it was exactly like you had expected. Suits and shirts hanging carefully in the small, open closet by the bathroom. Suitcase laid out on the floor with his belongings neatly packed inside, not a single item out of place.

He flicked on another light and the lamps next to his king sized bed came to life, casting the deep green comforter and patterned rug in a warm glow.

That moment could have been awkward if you had given yourself a chance to take everything in, but your body moved faster than your mind. You swirled around and looped your arms around Dave's neck, pulling him down to your level, eager to feel the softness of his lips against your own again. And when his mouth crashed hungrily against yours, all of your questions and insecurities drifted away.

It should have felt wrong, being in the arms of a man that wasn't your husband, but not one shred of guilt entered your body. How could it, when his hands on your waist and his tongue slipping past your lips felt so good?

"Tell me you want me," Dave rasped in between feverish kisses. You took a step backwards towards the bed and he eagerly chased after you.

"You know I do," you whispered, head in a fog. His lips had dragged down to your chin, nipping there gently so as to give you a chance to speak. But words were hard to come by whenever you were in his orbit.

His fingers gripped your waist a little harder when he pulled away to look into your eyes.

"I need to hear it."

You slowly blinked up at him, both your chests rising and falling faster than a moment ago.

"I want you."

Dave swallowed and a muscle in his jaw jumped.

"More than him?"

Your knees went weak when you heard the possessive tone in his voice.

"Yes," you told him. He was already pushing you onto the bed, his mouth inches away from colliding with yours when you added, "I've always wanted you more than him."

He groaned into your mouth, a deep rumble you could feel in your own chest when you were trapped between the weight of him and the old mattress. You could taste the tequila on his tongue as he licked into your mouth with an urgency you didn't expect from a man who appeared so put together, and the thought of being the one to unravel him, to make him a little messier, thrilled you.

You whined impatiently when Dave pulled away from the kiss and shuffled back onto his knees.

"Need to see you," he mumbled, shaky fingers already working on the button of your jeans. You eagerly lifted your hips so he could strip them off with a grunt, then tossed your arms above your head when he pushed up the hem of your shirt.

His hands kept working, plucking at your underwear and bra, but he couldn't hold himself back from kissing you any longer, his tongue invading your mouth once again. The feel of his kiss grew more and more familiar with each passing second. You felt your bra come loose around your shoulders and middle, so you subtly shimmied underneath him, freeing yourself of the offensive fabric and letting it fall to the floor. His palm was on you in an instant, feeling the weight of your breast in his hand and rolling your nipple between his fingers before his eyes even had a chance to open and drink you in.

"You know how long I've been thinking about this?" he asked when your head tipped back towards the headboard, lungs filling with fresh air. His lips slowly dragged down the column of your throat, tongue flicking out occasionally to taste your skin. "Twenty years," he said, not waiting for you to answer. Your back arched and your fingers raised to get tangled in his hair. Nobody had ever spoken to you or touched you the way he did. It was intoxicating to be an object of his worship and desire. A small voice in the back of your mind wondered how you would be able to go back to your miserable life after that night, how you would be able to go on after experiencing Dave's lavish adoration like he didn't tilt your world on it's axis.

"You ever think about me?" he asked. His voice sounded a little sheepish, like he was trying to hide it, but you picked up on it. You lifted your hips when he slid your underwear down your legs with one hand and you said, "Yes. All the time. Especially-"

You cut yourself off with a bite to your lower lip. Dave's hands, which were in the process of caressing every soft curve of your now bare body, froze. His eyes met yours once again, searching them before he asked, "What?"

You shook your head and tried to pull him in for another kiss, but he resisted. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and his brows furrowed. He didn't like the idea of you holding something back. Not now. Not when he finally had you, after so long. He wanted all of you, the good and the bad.

"Tell me," he urged. He needed to know.

You sighed and averted your gaze. "Especially... on really bad days. Those days I stay up at night, waiting for the pain to go away, and I think about you. How you would never lay a finger on me like that."

His jaw tensed. Anger boiled hot through his veins at the thought of you cowering in your bed or bathroom, in pain and crying and thinking about him.

"Look at me," he said through clenched teeth. You took a deep breath and did what he asked, gazing up at him with watery eyes, trying your best to put on a brave face. "That will never happen again, do you understand? He will never hurt you again. It's over."

You gave him a weak smile and shook your head.

"He won't let me leave. I've tried, believe me, but-"

"You're not listening to me, sweetheart," Dave said, pinching your chin and holding your gaze, trying to do his best to convey his message without implicating you. "You're safe. It's over."

You opened your mouth to argue back and then you paused. You scanned his face and he watched you try to mentally connect the dots. What did that mean? Was Mike arrested?

"Do you understand?" he whispered softly. Slowly, you nodded, and his mouth pulled into a smile. "Good. Now-" Dave unzipped his coat and tossed it on top of your abandoned pile of clothes. He rolled on top of you, caging you in for one quick, heated kiss that took your breath away. When he pulled back, he had a playful look in his eye. It made you smile, your anguish quickly sweeping back into the furthest recesses of your mind. "Let me give you a better reason to think about me."

When he began to move down the bed so he could settle his broad shoulders between your legs, a bolt of anxiety shot through you. You leaned up on your elbows, eyes all wide and nervous, watching as he got comfortable. His hands wrapped firmly but tenderly around your thighs, grip strong so he could fight your instinct to clamp your legs shut.

"W-what are you doing?"

Dave looked up at you with surprise. His eyes flickered between your face and your glistening center, then back again.

"Do you not want me to?"

Your heart was racing so fast, you felt like you were floating. Having a man go down on you was certainly not something you were used to, but if you gave yourself any time at all to think, you would have realized Dave was the type of man willing to give you everything and anything you could ever want or need, including something selfless like that. Something just to make you feel good.

"I-I don't know. It's been a while..." you trailed off, cheeks warming with embarrassment. "It's not exactly something Mi-"

"Stop."

Your mouth snapped shut, wilting under the steely look in his eye.

"Don't say his name," Dave said gently, realizing he might have been a bit too harsh at first. You nodded, understanding, but remained silent. He took a steadying breath and started over. "I won't do anything you don't want me to do. But if being shy is the reason you don't want this, I won't accept that."

He looked up at you from between your legs, gaze heated as he tilted his chin slightly to brush his lips over the inside of your thigh. He maintained eye contact, watching you shudder from the sensation of his five o'clock shadow scraping your sensitive skin.

"What's it gonna be, baby?" he asked before doing the same to your other thigh. You gasped quietly and then swallowed before letting your legs fall open. Dave smirked.

"I want it."

Your voice was soft and meek. He wanted you to feel in control. He wanted you to know just how tightly you had him wrapped around your finger.

"Louder."

You dropped your chin to your chest, lips parted with anticipation as you watched his mouth hover over your mound. You could feel the heat from his exhale fan over you, making your cunt pulse around nothing.

"I want it," you said, voice firm, just as he asked. "I want you to make me feel good, Dave."

One corner of his mouth lifted and his eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Yes, ma'am."

Your eyes instantly rolled to the back of your head when he dragged his tongue through your folds for the first time. Fingers thread through Dave's dark hair as he licked at you again. Over and over and over until your head fell back and you collapsed into the plush pillow.

"Oh - fuck, Dave, that's -" you cut yourself off with a moan, head lolling to the side and eyes sliding shut. It felt too good. He was too good. His warm, strong tongue licked into you messily, flooding your body with rolling waves of pleasure you had never experienced before. Your muscles were limp, pliant and soft under his hands and mouth, allowing him to take and take as much as he wanted.

And he did.

You were helpless against him, helpless against the way he feasted between your legs, entirely at his mercy. Shaky fingers grappled for leverage in his hair but it was half-hearted, at best. Dave had reduced you to a whimpering puddle with every greedy lap of his tongue, and he loved it. He loved how soft you were for him, loved hearing sweet little moans filter past your lips. It was every one of his twenty years worth of wildest fantasies come true, and he couldn't be stopped.

When he pressed your thighs into your chest, tilting your hips to give him even better access to your cunt, you gasped his name. The sound made his cock throb painfully, still trapped behind too many layers of clothes. He rut his hips pathetically against the mattress, seeking just a sliver of relief as he continued to lick and kiss and bite at your folds. The roof could have been ripped off the building and he wouldn't have stopped. He was determined to memorize and map out every inch of you, draw out every possible sound and swallow every drop of your arousal. He wanted to smell you on him for days. He wanted his jaw to ache. Every time he closed his eyes, he wanted to see you writhing around in ecstasy underneath him.

He felt insane. Never in his life had he felt so wild and careless, but decades of being denied the only thing he ever truly wanted made him a madman.

"Dave," you moaned, back arching and collapsing repeatedly off the mattress. He peered up at you, tongue still swirling steadily over your clit, lips still suckling and teeth grazing your delicate skin in the same delicious pattern, not sacrificing an ounce of your pleasure when he dragged his focus to your scrunched up face.

Your eyes, wild and dark, found his. His name fell from your lips like a song as you watched his mouth eat at you with skilled precision. The sight of him like that between your legs, all wrecked and crazed and hungry, was the final push you needed.

Your orgasm forced you upright, sitting with your legs bent and spread. You could see Dave so much clearer that way, watching every purse of his lips and flick of his tongue as he guided you through it. One of your hands raked through his hair, holding him against you so you could grind against his mouth while the other supported your weight somewhere behind you.

With one last drawn out moan, your head tipped back and your eyes slipped shut. Your mouth hung open, pulling in deep gulps of air. A shudder ran through your body and your arm began to shake. Dave was still dutifully cleaning up the mess between your legs, but his licks were softer, gentler, as he worked.

"Oh, my god," you breathed, collapsing back into the bed. Your heart was racing in your chest, skin coated in a thin layer of sweat and your mind was blissfully blank. It wasn't until Dave withdrew himself from between your legs that you opened your eyes. The loss of his body heat made you shiver, and suddenly you felt painfully exposed. You weakly pulled at the bedspread, looking to cover yourself up, when he stopped you.

"Don't."

Your hand instantly released the comforter and you rolled your head to look at him. He had been removing his shirt when you were busy trying to cover yourself up. Your breath quickened and you forgot all about your earlier shyness when you drank in his bare upper half for the first time. Your mouth went dry and jaw went slack at the sight of his muscular, wide shoulders and chest, leading down to a soft but toned stomach. Dave smirked, flinging his belt off before working on the zipper of his pants.

You were out of your element. On one hand you could count how many times Mike made you come in the past fifteen years. You were bone tired and legs still shaky from the way Dave had torn you apart just minutes earlier, unsure if you had it in you to go again. But when he dropped his pants and boxers, revealing his thick, rock hard erection, you felt a second wave of energy hit.

"Shit," you whispered, scrambling to your knees on the bed. Dave's dark eyes skated up and down your naked body, cock twitching when he saw the wetness between your legs glisten as you shifted down the bed on your knees, towards him.

Your soft palms dragged down the sharp planes of his chest, your eyes wide and reverent, studying every inch of his skin. He held his breath, tight muscles twitching under your delicate touch. He flexed his hands at his sides, eyes boring into you, giving you all the time you needed to take him in.

"You've grown up, Dave York."

He chuckled, releasing a nervous breath. It was growing increasingly difficult not to touch you.

"A lot's changed since the treehouse," he murmured. Your eyes flickered up to his, hands still drifting slowly down his stomach.

"You remember."

He brought one hand up to cup your cheek. You leaned into his touch, your fingers stalling right above where he wanted you the most. Your fingertips grazed the coarse hairs there and he thought he might die if you didn't touch him soon.

"Of course I remember."

You closed what little distance remained, capturing his lower lip between your own. You could taste your release on his mouth, surprising yourself when you weren't repulsed by the flavor. You had a feeling it had something to do with the man it was connected to. The idea of Dave smelling like you awakened some primal urge deep inside, like you craved to mark him somehow.

You slid your hand down the rest of the way, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. He pulled in a sharp breath against your lips, then groaned when your wrist slowly started to work him, up and down.

Dave cursed under his breath when your thumb swept across his slit, collecting the sticky bead of wetness pooling there. He kissed you deeper, tongue swirling frantically inside your mouth, his hips jolting forward, chasing your touch.

"I want you," he murmured, voice a little strained. He gripped the side of your face so tightly, like he was afraid to let you go. You bloomed with pride when you heard his breath stutter and you grinned before dropping your mouth to taste the skin covering his pulse point. It fluttered wildly under your tongue, the rhythm giving away his true feelings in that moment. He more than wanted you. He needed you.

"You have me," you said, lips trailing down his throat. "I'm all yours."

Desperate hands grabbed at your hip and the back of your head, laying you down flat under him with your lips still latched to his neck and your fist still pumping his cock. Once he settled between your legs, it was as if you moved as one: your hand paused, lining him up at your entrance, and a moment later he grabbed that same wrist, pinning it above your head at the exact same time he buried himself inside you with one deep thrust.

"Oh!" you cried out, the sudden stretch stealing your breath. Your head dropped back, abandoning the mark you left on his throat. It was hard to think, hard to speak, hard to do anything except focus on the way he opened you up, carving a spot for himself inside of you.

"It's okay, I got you," he gasped. It was the first time you realized he was just as much of a wreck as you. His mouth hung open, face buried in the crook of your shoulder, struggling to catch his breath. He still held your arm firmly above your head, pressing your wrist into the plush comforter. After a minute, once you both managed to clear your heads, his grip loosened. But instead of letting you go, he slid his palm up to press into yours, fingers lacing together lovingly when you tilted your chin and slotted your lips together once again.

The weight of him on top of you was stifling, the wide stretch of your hips to accommodate his broad torso already pulling your muscles, but it felt so good. With your free hand, you carded your fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss by slipping your tongue past his lips. There was nowhere else you'd rather be than pinned under Dave York's hulking frame, cocooned and protected by his strong body. You wanted him to possess you in every way imaginable, tangle and weave himself through every fiber of your being.

When he started to move, he was so much gentler than you imagined him to be. He took his time, feeding you his cock inch by inch, slowly dragging his hips back just to push back inside at the same excruciating pace. Your fingers squeezed around his with each thrust, tongues still tangled together, sharing soft sighs and gasps each time he moved.

"Good?" he whispered, breaking away and pressing your foreheads together. Your skin was growing dewy, sweat forming where your bodies touched.

"Yeah," you whispered back. His eyelids fluttered when you rocked your hips up to meet his. "You won't break me, you know," you teased. He grinned but still maintained the same pace, making you gasp when he shifted and brushed against a sensitive spot no one had ever reached before.

"I know. Just - don't want to rush it. Been thinking about this for too damn long." He nibbled playfully at your chin before finally releasing the hand above your head. He cupped the back of your thigh, lifting your leg so it hooked over his lower back, burying himself even further inside your tight cunt. You moaned his name, brows knitting together and face flushing with arousal and maybe a little bit of embarrassment when you whined in his ear, "So deep. You're so fucking deep."

There were times in the past twenty years where Dave thought he might be deranged. The way he could never let you go, never get you out of his mind, bordered on obsessive. Time didn't dampen it, like he thought it would. Distance, either. Not a single day passed where you didn't cross his mind and he wondered what the hell was wrong with him. When your husband's name crossed his desk, his next target, with your name next to it posed as a question, he didn't sleep for three days. Panic seized his entire body, morning and night. If you were guilty, if you were privy to anything your husband did - or, god forbid - assisted him with any of his dealings, he knew he wouldn't be able to pull the trigger. Yet he still came back home, because he couldn't pass up the opportunity to see you again. The relief he felt when he confirmed you were clueless, that you were pushed into the darkness by your husband's cruel hand, was unmatched. It might have been the only good deed that bastard ever did for you.

And then the obsession grew ten-fold. Because he knew finally, when his work was done, he would get to have you.

Mania took hold of his mind. The question did he ever fuck you like this? Did he ever make you feel this good? This loved? sat on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to know. He wanted to hear you say he was the best you'd ever had. But he didn't, because that fucking asshole's name had no place in that room. He didn't want to invite him into the sacred place where Dave was buried deep inside you, showing you all the ways he loved you without saying the words.

"You like it like this, baby?" he asked instead. "You like it nice and slow?"

"Yes," you whimpered. Your fingers tugged harshly at his hair when he brushed against that spot again and it made him groan. "Fuck - whatever you're doing, keep doing it," you said, mouthing at his cheek. Your lips burned from the sharp hairs that were already beginning to grow back across his jaw. He rolled his hips again, pulling another broken moan from the back of your throat, slowly fanning the flames of the warmth blooming in your belly. He could feel you pulsing around his cock, pulling him in as your orgasm began to steadily build. He cupped one of your breasts, clamping his mouth around your nipple, allowing his teeth to gently graze the sensitive skin, all in an effort to heighten your pleasure. Based on the way your back arched and you cried out his name, it sounded like he was pretty damn successful.

"You feel so good," he panted, breath coming quick and short. He could feel himself slipping. "So good. So beautiful - fuck," he said with a groan. Your fingers found his shoulder, nails digging into his skin.

It was so hot. Your hair was sticking to the back of your neck. You could feel drops of sweat sliding down the sides of your head. Dave was fucking everywhere. His entire body caged you in, his mouth alternated licking and sucking at your breasts, cock buried further than any man ever had. His hand held your ass, pulling you tight against him, helping you rock your hips in rhythm with his.

And then you felt it. Something deep inside, a pressure that climbed up the base of your spine that had you going rigid and you gasped.

"Oh, my god, Dave - I'm... I'm gonna-"

"Give it to me," he growled, mouth abandoning your sore breasts so he could see you. He wanted to watch. He needed to see the look on your face when you came again. He fantasized about what you'd look like coming on his cock for so long and he was finally going to witness it.

"Right there," you whined, then tipped your head back with a loud moan. He ground his hips against your clit, a grunt rumbling from the back of his throat when your soft cunt clenched down around him.

His dark eyes fixed on yours, feeling his own orgasm creeping up when you screamed out his name and fell apart. He locked his jaw, fighting it, determined to wait until your release swept through you. Your nails dug into his skin, legs pulling tight around his waist. You cried out until your voice cracked and his cock swelled inside you at the sound.

Your release coated his hips and the thick patch of hair that continued to rub against your clit. He looked down, jaw going slack at the wetness that smeared across you both, then moaned your name when your cunt squeezed him again. His head snapped up in surprise to find another orgasm rolling through you.

"Oh, shit," he chuckled, mesmerized. You writhed weakly underneath him, chest heaving with your eyes closed and mouth hung open in a silent moan, too tired and spent to find your voice. You were so soft and warm and fucking soaked, he couldn't hold back any longer.

He scooped you off the bed and into his lap, pressing you against his chest, burying his face in your neck and groaning your name into your skin. His body stilled, breathing a deep sigh of relief when his cock throbbed, spilling thick ropes of his seed deep within your walls.

Dave held you close, each of you panting desperately for air. A shiver ran down his spine and another burst of spend flooded your used cunt. He felt dizzy and out of control, the force of his orgasm taking him by surprise. But he should have known it would have been that good with you.

Your lips brushed lazily against his collarbone, a whisper of his name in-between kisses and he closed his eyes. A wave of peace washed over him: he had everything he could ever want. At last, he could rest.

"We should clean up," he murmured into your hair. You made a whine of protest and he smiled. "You made a mess, sweetheart. We'll be quick, I promise."

If you were embarrassed, you didn't show it. You tilted your chin up, head resting against his shoulder and tired eyes finding his.

"My biggest regret in life was not going with you that night."

Dave wrapped his arms around you tighter, emotion swelling in his chest. I love you, I never stopped loving you.

"I should've fought harder for you. Should've made you mine that night we kissed."

You gave him a sad smile and traced his bottom lip with your fingertip. "Guess we made up for it today, huh?"

"Oh, I plan on making it up to you for a long time," he said, hissing when he flexed his hips and slid out of your warm clutch.

He led you to the shower, let you lean against the wall while he gently cleaned you up. He shampooed your hair with the little bottle that was left next to the sink, thick fingers carefully scrubbing your scalp. You moaned and tipped your head back against his chest, closing your eyes while the warm water cascaded down over both your shoulders.

When his hand fell to clean between your legs, he pressed one finger inside. You tensed and made a little sound, wiggling in his arms as he shushed you. He kissed the shell of your ear and whispered, keep all that in there for me, okay?

"I'm on birth control," you said, wincing when he withdrew his finger.

"So?" was all he said. Then you understood. He wanted to claim you, the same way you wanted to mark him. It made your face flood with warmth.

That night, Dave took care of you. He got you fed and he made sure you weren't in any pain or discomfort. He fluffed your pillows, dried your hair with a towel, and rubbed your sore hips after he slipped into bed beside you.

When you drifted off to sleep, with Dave's strong, protective arm draped over your middle, you dreamt of a boy with dark brown eyes who promised to take you away from all your pain, to save you and care for you until your last breath.

Sunlight beamed through a crack in the shades, landing right over your eyes and stirring you out of the deepest sleep you ever had. It was no wonder, because when you opened your eyes and took in your surroundings, you found yourself still tangled up with Dave. His arms wrapped around you, his face buried in your neck. Your leg wedged between his own. The thought of having to move whatsoever was cruel, but you had to use the bathroom. Somehow, you slowly managed to extract yourself from Dave's hold with not so much as a change in his breathing pattern.

After you used the bathroom, you hurried back to bed, snatching your phone from the table along the way. You slotted yourself beside him and instinctually, his arms reached over to envelope you once again. It was pure bliss.

You tapped your phone to check the time and your face fell.

38 missed calls. Countless text messages from family members.

Your heart lurched into your throat and with shaky hands, you opened the notifications. There were several voicemails but you chose to call your mother in law first, as she was the one who was responsible for half of the calls.

"Oh Jesus Christ, finally!" you heard her sob when she picked up the phone. You swallowed and sat up in bed, Dave's arms dropping to your waist.

"H-hey, what's going on? Is everything-"

"Didn't you hear my voicemails?" she shrieked. You winced and heard some other voices in the background telling her to calm down.

"No, I just woke up and saw - just tell me what's going on," you said, voice shaking. Dave began to stir next to you.

"He's dead!" she cried, then began to wail nonsense while your vision narrowed and your ears began to ring.

"Hey, honey, it's Ricky," your father in law's voice said from the other end.

"Who's d-dead? W-what is she talking about?"

Dave propped himself up on his elbow, blinking away the sleep from his eyes so he could watch you.

"Mikey's dead, honey. I'm - I'm so sorry," you heard him sniffle and continue to tell you something about a car accident but you couldn't retain any of the details. Dave sat up in bed next to you and pressed a kiss against your shoulder, but you continued to stare blankly at the wall.

"Where are you? Are you home?" he finally asked, shaking you out of your stupor.

"Tell them where you are," Dave's voice whispered so only you could hear. You looked over at him now, panic etched across your face only to find his remained perfectly calm.

"I-I'm at the Hyatt," you stammered. Dave nodded his approval and gave your shoulder another kiss.

"The - what? Why?"

"Tell them you had too much to drink with your friends and you didn't feel safe driving."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a deep breath.

"I was out with friends and I had one too many at the hotel bar," you began, licking your lips nervously, "I got a room, I didn't want to drive."

"Good girl."

You listened to your father in law drone on for another five minutes about the police stopping by later and how you really should be there, and you nodded numbly, unable to say much else.

When you hung up, adrenaline still buzzing through your veins and your heart thumping loudly in your chest, you slowly turned to Dave.

He looked at you expectantly, waiting for the inevitable question. But as he stared into your eyes, he watched the fear melt into acceptance, and then calmness blended into what he was ultimately waiting for, what you deserved to feel after years of abuse - relief.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, his own heart rate spiking. He saved you. He did what he had to do and saved you, but he still worried you harbored some old feelings for Mike. He braced for revulsion. A look of horror.

"I'm thinking... I want pancakes for breakfast," you said with a small smile.

Dave thought he might collapse from relief. He took your hand and brought it up to his mouth, brushing his lips over your knuckles and making your smile widen.

"Pancakes it is."

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[the-prophesied-disco-gay]

Some things are not easy to say but it's important they are said. When this post says "fuck child abusers" it means me. That includes me. I spanked my kids when they were young. That's a real thing that I am guilty of and pretending otherwise might feel better for me but it doesn't help anyone.

I'm hoping that talking about it will.

I was raised in a very conservative household. My friends and partners have described my upbringing as "being raised in a non-religious cult." My Dine heritage was hidden from me. My Jewish heritage was hidden from me, and then later I was told we are "white Jews" (which is a perfectly acceptable thing to be! But I am...not..one). I was raised steeped in white supremacy and racism and homophobia (my dad referred to both Black people and LGB people as "those people" and expected it to be clear from context which he meant)(shockingly, there was virtually zero transphobia in my house growing up. The neighbor's eldest transitioned when I was a kid and my parents liked and respected her parents so they decided that must be alright. That tiny twist of fate saved me much).

Now I don't list off these things to excuse child abuse. I do so to show just how interconnected these things are. Conservative beliefs, whether they are religious or just social/cultural, are inherently violent. I was 18 when I had my first child, my spouse was 20. Both of us had been spanked growing up, and so had all our friends. At that point in our lives it was unthinkable that there was another proper way to raise children. All the examples we had been shown of children that lacked "discipline" were either living violent, out of control, addiction ridden lives (you are not immune to propaganda), or insufferable brats who called their parents by their first names ("There once was a boy named Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it").

Here's the thing tho. It didn't feel good.

Sure it did in all the ways that have perpetuated such actions for millenia. The chemical changes that happen in the brain, the feeling of regained control and reasserted authority, the relief that the world is right on it's axis and everything is back in its box. Corporal punishment doesn't teach a child anything useful or worthwhile, only fear and uncertainty and lack of trust. That's not truly why people do it. It provides a sense of relief for the adult. An outlet for the emotion they haven't learned to manage.

But it didn't make us feel like good parents. It didn't make us feel like we were doing right by our kids. And the more we moved in the world away from our own parents, the more we met and spoke with different kinds of people, the more we learned. The very first time I found a science article about the effects of spanking, I felt both relieved and vindicated. I showed it to my partner and we never spanked our kids again.

It wasn't difficult. We never wanted to be doing it in the first place. We had legitimately believed we would be failing our children if we chose otherwise. We were wrong.

Sometimes you're going to be wrong. On big things. On important things.

It is never too late. Once you know better, do better. It's not too late to stop. To apologize. To begin doing better. My children were still young when we learned better, and I am grateful for that. But even if your children are grown, it's not too late to apologize and admit you were wrong. You will be shocked what it can heal.

[pincushionx]

Blood warning!

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I see lots of fanfics that talk about the Grimwalker stories and myths as Grimwalkers being these predators that hunt witches and are these monster that feed off of flesh, but all of these are usually false and like I said just myths.

So what if that wasn’t the case? What if Grimwalkers were the flesh craving beasts everyone thinks they are. Aka me giving Hunter the Tokyo Ghoul treatment (kinda)

This image takes place during Thanks to Them, he’s hunting and consuming animals to sustain himself but they can only do so much. He keeps it a secret because he’s ashamed, scared and full of self loathing. Unfortunately you can only sneak out and wash your clothes so frequently until you get caught.

…

The craving flesh started around the time Hunter started hitting his second stage of puberty, so around 12 to 13 years old. It started off as spouts of aggression, weight loss and odd carvings that he suppressed until he eventually snapped and attacked a scout. Once he consumed flesh, there was no going back.

This happened with a few Grimwalkers, typically one made around pubescent years due to this being a natural development. Grimwalkers who are made as adults don’t get this since get miss that developmental period. A reason why Belos made Grimwalkers strictly adults for hundreds of years before trying out a new experiment.

When Belos made Hunter, he was aware of this and rather than kill Hunter off or just make an adult Grimwalker, he decided he can benefit from a “monster” needing a source of food.

Hence, Hunter picking up a reputation for being “feral.” Belos supplies Hunter with blood and flesh but not enough to satisfy him, just the minimum to keep him alive. This is to keep Hunter at a state where he’s willing to do more work to earn more food but unfortunately this just results in cases of Hunter going “too far” aka mauling different beings (witches, beasts, demons, ect) during missions on the accounts he’s literally starving and being triggered in fights.

He can eat normal food but his sense of taste is bit dull and doesn’t give him the nutrition he needs. He can eat and eat and it will do nothing. He learns to satisfy himself through eating animals he hunts during missions. When he gets to the human realm he eats his food with an overwhelming amount of seasoning just to taste it.

He also has a very strong jaw and sharp teeth, like hyena type stuff.

(Imagine a scenario he pauses a mission mid way to go hunt some voles and eat them raw and the scouts just standing there like-)

After Hollow mind Hunter struggles because now he’s has little source of witch or demon flesh (he raids the healing classes for blood and kitchen for uncooked meat)

So during thanks to them he’s forced to live with three witches, a basilisk, two humans who are somewhat similar to witches and oh boy he struggles. His friends are concerned. Camila notices Hunter eats a lot but still looks like he isn’t gaining weight, Gus notices that he sneaks out, Vee smells something wrong with him, Luz sees how on edge he is, Amity catches on to his burst of aggression (caused by hunger and stress) and Willow notices he avoids them.

They all already knows something is off with him (heightened senses, unusual teeth and jaw strength, glowing eyes, unusually tight and powerful muscles despite how gaunt he is) but only Luz knows he’s a grimwalker but hasn’t quite put the peices that’s he’s a unnatural, natural predator to witches and demons. The witches, Vee and even the humans feel a slight primal fear around Hunter but they can’t quite put the reason why, he puts them on edge even if they love him but something’s off.

Despite the fact that all of them are willing to give him blood, even some flesh if they could, the boy just refuses, since he sees himself as a literal monster that needs to be locked up.

This is me giving Hunter Grimwalker trauma x100. Anywho this is my late Halloween post aka my billionth AU idea. This was inspired by Tokyo Ghoul, Ginger snaps(2000) and the fic [redacted] Hunter by ApaMonkey on ao3! Yall should read it!

I have a weakness for flesh craving characters who aren’t villains but they aren’t so common so of course I had to project that love to my own skrunkly!

[lyvhie]

oh, you're learning, father | lmk

priest!mark x fem!reader (18+ mdni)

summary: mark is determined to make you feel as good as you always made him feel.

cw: this is a continuation of 'forgive me, father' but can be read separately, oral (f), fingering, it has fewer religious themes than the previous one, pet names.

a/n: your wish is my command, here it is part 2 for you babies 😚

since the day you had first lured him into your seductive web, mark and you had been engaged in a secret, sinful affair. rather than feeling remorse, he reveled in the forbidden pleasure of your company.

he maintained his role as a priest, as he held a deep affinity for his position. he had devoted his existence to it, so it was not unexpected that he chose to preserve his work. but in the depths of his consciousness, he acknowledged that he was transgressing against his faith.

but he couldn't help it, not even if he tried he could get away from you, at least not now. it was so good to spend the night by your side, he always found himself leaving relaxed both physically and emotionally after a meet with you, each encounter a new, thrilling experience.

still, there was something that started to bother him; you were the one who always took the lead and made him dizzy with pleasure, truly faithful to your promise to make him cum in every way possible. don't get him wrong, he doesn't hate it, quite the opposite, it's always a delightful experience. however, he wanted to do more for you, he needed you to enjoy the moment as much as he did. your enjoyment was very important to him.

mark sat in the adjoining room, waiting patiently for you to finish your shower, his mind filled with determination and anticipation. for days, he had immersed himself in research, exploring different possibilities and methods to bring you to the pinnacle of pleasure.

armed with the knowledge he had gathered from articles, forums, and various resources, mark was determined to make this encounter exceptional in every way. he vowed to himself that he would leave no stone unturned.

he was deeply engrossed in his reading material, intently concentrating on the article titled "three ways to make your partner cum." he was so absorbed in his research that he didn't register the sound of the shower coming to a halt or the bathroom door opening.

“what are you doing?” mark, taken by surprise, flinched at the sudden sound of your voice, his phone slipping out of his grip and onto the bed. his eyes darted up, finding you standing at the edge of the bed. he quickly tried to cover his nervousness with a casual smile.

"oh, nothing much," he said, his voice just a touch hurried, making you raise your eyebrows.

"did you know you are like, the worst person ever at telling a lie, mark?" you teased, an amused smile gracing your features as you crawled up the bed towards him. his arms instinctively opened, welcoming you into his embrace.

“well," he chuckled sheepishly, his hands gently wrapping around your waist. “i guess that's what happens when you spend most of your life preaching honesty and confessional secrets.”

you laughed at his words, leaning to capture his lips into a gentle kiss, his arms wrapping around you in a tender embrace. he was keenly aware that he didn't need to resort to falsehoods when it came to his lack of experience in the bedroom, as he knew you were understanding and patient with him.

he had noticed your careful and caring demeanor towards him, despite the wild tendencies you displayed in the heat of passion. it was precisely these qualities of yours that made him feel at ease in your presence.

he hummed against your lips as he felt your hand slide under his shirt and caress his bare skin, his body responding with a small shiver when your nails grazed his abdomen. it was crazy how he could never grow weary of your touch.

as the kiss became more heated, he felt his own body getting hot, a soft gasp escaping his lips when your hand found his bulge over his pants. for a moment, he was tempted to surrender to your dominance, relishing the familiar sensation of being at your mercy. however, this time, he halted your movement by gently clutching your hand and breaking the kiss.

“what, baby?” a confused look on your face as your hand reached to caress his cheek. he melted into your touch, his heart skipping a beat as you called him that pet name. he couldn't help but admire how a simple word could make him feel so content. “are you not in the mood? we can't stop here.”

he shook his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. "no, it’s not that," he reassured you. "i'm definitely in the mood. i just... have something i want to try with you.”

the curiosity in your eyes sparkled as your hear his word. with a small tilt of your head, you responded, "oh, really?" your brows raising slightly. "and what do you want to try?"

mark hesitated for a moment, biting his lower lip before continuing to speak. "can i... can i eat you out, please?"

“oh.”

each night of sex with mark was a fun experience, you really enjoyed fucking him. you usually always focused on his pleasure, he was so responsive, so easy to please. a simple hickey on his neck was enough to make him melt for you, and you never got tired of those reactions from him.

but a change of pace was always welcome, and you couldn't, and in no way did you want to, deny such a cute request.

“of course, mark!” you laughed at how nervous he seemed to be asking that, but your answer made his face lighten up and relax. “do you know how to do it?”

"i-i’ve been... researching.”

"like... watching porn or something?"

“no…” he looked away from you, his face getting red.

“oh god… you tried it on someone else?”

“what?! no!” he replied quickly, shaking his head urgently. “no, i would never—” he stopped mid-sentence when he heard you laughing, soon realizing that you were just teasing him.

“you're so cute,” you chuckled, squishing his cheeks together and earning a roll of his eyes in response.

he let out a sigh, still feeling the need to explain himself even though he knew you were just teasing him before. "i did watch a few videos," he admitted, his tone slightly sheepish. "but it was mostly reading….”

you hummed in understanding, a small smirk playing on your lips. "alright, i’m curious to see what this dedicated student has learned," you teased.

mark swallowed a lump in his throat, taking a deep breath. “okay,” it was finally time to put his theoretical knowledge into practice.

mark shifted his position, maneuvering you so that you were now lying down with your head slightly raised with the help of a pillow. you didn't know if he purposefully wanted to make sure you had a good view of him as he began his task.

he awkwardly positioned himself over you, his lips eagerly seeking yours in a passionate and gentle kiss. his tongue slipped past your lips, hungrily exploring and mapping out every inch of your mouth. it was something you had noticed about him — he really loved to kiss you. you had no doubt that you could make him cum with just one make-out session.

mark's hands found the rope of your robe, easily unfurling it to reveal your bare body beneath. he pulled away from the kiss, gasping for breath, before moving his lips to your jaw and continuing downward to your neck. he relished in the sounds of your soft sighs and the way you arched your neck, providing him with more access. he gently sucked and nipped at your skin, leaving a trail of love bites, each one followed by a soothing kiss.

he had read that foreplay was an effective way to build anticipation, and he wholeheartedly agreed. it was something he had experienced firsthand with you. when you did that with him, it was all more satisfying when it came to the main act.

mark's hands roamed over your body, gently cupping your breasts and giving them a light squeeze before continuing their journey. they moved down to caress your sides, eventually coming to rest on your hips, his touch leaving a trail of tingles in its wake.

mark began to move down your body, his lips planting soft, lingering kisses along the way. with each kiss, he inched further down, eventually reaching between your legs. the sight of your glistening pussy making he whimper softly.

his lips pressed against your inner thighs, creating a trail of gentle kisses as he moved closer and closer to your core. you could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

mark quickly moved towards the main attraction, aware that prolonging the wait too much could become monotonous. he had learned that there was a certain balance to be maintained to ensure maximum enjoyment and pleasure.

the first gentle lick of mark's tongue against your pussy drew a soft gasp from your lips. your surprised response served as encouragement for him to continue. eager to please, he wrapped his arms around your thighs, firmly pulling you closer so that his mouth was perfectly aligned with you.

with more confidence, his tongue roamed through your slick folds, collecting that sweet, stick fluid that made him hum in satisfaction, the pleasant vibrations eliciting a soft moan from you. mark eagerly buried his face between your legs, his tongue sliding along your slit with growing confidence.

he closed his eyes as he kept devouring you, his tongue circled your clit, teasing it, before sucking it into his mouth. your hands found its way to his hair, your fingers tangling between his strands tightly as you pressed him against you even more.

mark pulled away for a briefly to look up at you, his chin glistening with your juices and his face flushed. “am i doing it r—” you cut him off by firmly guiding him back to his task. "fuck, don't stop, mark," you hissed, rocking your hips against his face, moaning when his tongue started to fuck you again, licking and flicking at your heated flesh.

you arched your back and squeezed your thighs around his head, your breath coming in sharp gasps. your moans served as a measure of his abilities, and he could tell that he was doing well because your sounds were becoming increasingly louder. he doubled his efforts, eating you like you were the most delicious meal he's ever had — and it probably was.

he could tell you were close because he noticed your thighs trembling slightly and way your moans were growing in volume and pitch. he knew that he had to keep up the pace, so he decided to try something else. he quickly and smoothly slipped two fingers inside you, smiling when he listened your whimper.

his fingers caressed your inner walls, scissoring them open and making way for him to thrust his tongue a little further, soon returning to your clit, sucking relentlessly. he pumped his fingers in and out of your wet heat, curling them just enough to hit that sweet spot and that was the final straw he needed to make you cum, crying out his name.

your grip on mark's hair tightened to the point of being painful as you reached your climax, your body arching and your hips pressing against his face. for a few seconds, it was as if you were trying to suffocate him with your pussy, which was… oddly hot for him, he weren’t sure if he was supposed to be this turned on.

with a satisfied moan, mark diligently lapped up your juices, not wanting to leave a single drop behind. he savored your delicious taste and couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction in knowing he was the pleasing you, finally.

mark slowly raised his head, his gaze meeting yours as he took his time to suck his fingers clean. he was in absolute awe at the sight before him. your hair was tousled, your breath coming in short pants, and a faint gleam of sweat adorned your forehead. your eyes were heavy-lidded and fixated on him, a sight that filled him with pride.

mark's voice broke the silence with a soft compliment, "you look divine..." he bit his lower lip, his words carrying genuine admiration for your appearance. a gentle laugh escaped your lips, touched by the sincere appreciation in his eyes.

“umm, i don’t know if god would approve that," you raised an eyebrow, a playful glimmer in your eyes as you pulled him up to meet your lips in a kiss, the taste of your essence still clung to his lips.

"i couldn't care less if it's you," mark murmured against your lips, his body molding against yours as if he was a puppet in your hands.

you teased, a frisky smirk on your lips, "hmm, that was quite the romantic statement, father. are you catching feelings?"

mark buried his face in the crook of your neck, nuzzling against your skin and dropping soft kisses there.

“maybe i am.”

[gottalovetumbler]

𝑫𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖?

¹⁴¹ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛!! 𝑆𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑚 🎺🎺

𝙸𝚗𝚏𝚘: 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚒-𝚊𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕/𝚟𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚕, 𝚍𝚎𝚏 𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 😅, 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚈/𝙽 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻/𝙽, 𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐

——— 🚔🚨🚓 ———

-Your boyfriend wasn’t the best man and you knew that. That didn’t stop you from loving him. You just learned that sometimes you needed to love him from a distance, to save yourself heartache.

-When he got mad, he got mean.

-It was your 3 month anniversary. It’s cheesy and embarrassing to celebrate such a short time together you know.

-It’s also your first ever relationship and your hoping to maybe even have your first kiss by the end of the night. If things get risqué that is 😉 (lmao)

-You were so excited and blinded by love in fact, that you even got said boyfriend a bouquet. A candy bar one. A gorgeous lily bouquet caught your eye but you know he’d flip his lid over you insinuating he’s a feminine man

-You pull up to the gate, full of smiles. Of course you were, how were you supposed to know that a base trespasser escaped in the exact make and model of the car you were driving not even 15 minutes before?

-Of course you don’t question it when the guards greet you confused before buzzing you in, not even asking for your credentials

-You didn’t question it because that had to mean that your boyfriend talked about you so much, his buddies are able to recognize you!

-You park at what looks like the main building and climb out of the car, smiling brighter than ever before. He must tell all his friends how much he loves you, how much he misses you when he’s on base and he also has to show them lots of pictures. How else would they recognize you?

-The pep in your step is paused as a man taps you on the shoulder.

-‘Hello luv, were you by chance drivin tha’ car right there?’ A kind eyed man asks, pointing at your car. You answer in the affirmative, happiness never leaving your eyes.

-He tells you to follow him real quick and oh gosh! I wonder if Chad has a surprise for me!?!?

-Your joy begins to fainter as your lead from the big building to a smaller, run down one. All concrete with minimal windows and lots of rooms

-Your led to a room towards the back and step in. Confused, you try to turn and question the nice man when you’re shoved into a chair. The gift and your bag are torn from your hands and thrown to the wall.

-In-front of you is not in fact the nice man. No he’s standing in the corner staring at you, accompanied by a man with mutton chops and one with a Mohawk.

-The only thing you can see clearly on the man who is in-front of you, are his eyes. Stark white against the eye-black and balaclava

-‘Who are you?’

-‘Y/N’ his stare somehow becomes meaner. ‘L/N’

-‘Ok, Y/N L/N. Wanna tell us how you got out and then tell us why the hell you came back?’

-‘Haha…… is this some joke from Chad? Cause it’s not very funny. Can you just tell him I don’t wanna joke around right now, I just wanna see him after-‘

-The man’s large hand slams down on the table with force that shouldn’t be humanly possible. All feelings are now replaced with fear. So much fear in-fact that your eyes begin to tear up.

-Growing up, your dad had a habit of getting mad at you when you did/got something wrong. His reaction brought you right back to being 8 years old again.

-‘Do you think this is some fuckin’ joke? You snuck onto this base and attempted to break into the armory. Is that fuckin’ funny to you? Are you that dumb?’

-Fear grips you and all you can do is repeat the same mantra from your childhood. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. No sir I don’t.’ Over and over, tears streaming down your face.

-Growing up you learned that the easiest way to get out of trouble, was to agree and apologize. To just get it over with.

-The giant masked man continues to berate you as you just cry and apologize. It continues for several seconds till one of the men in the corner, a new one, steps in.

-‘Hey si, lay off her fer a sec. She looks pretty terrified. Are we even sure it wa’ her, wasn’ the description o' a bigger 6'2 man, nae a 5'8 bonnie lassie.’

-The living shadow seems to suddenly snap out of whatever trance he was in and truly looks at you.

-Wide and scared… no… terrified eyes stare at him, full of tears. Apologies still falling from your lips seemingly not noticing he stopped questioning you almost a minute ago.

-Not sure what else to do he’s about to turn to the one man who would but he’s beaten to the punch.

-‘Hi luv, can you take a breath for me? Good now another one.’ His Captain says, crouching down to your level. ‘Do you mind if we help you walk. There seems to have been a misunderstandin’ and I wanna get you looked at. Make sure you aren’t hurt anywhere.’

-Still petrified in fear and not wanting to do anything else wrong, you nod weakly and allow him to support your as the mohawk man guides the 5 of you to the infirmary.

-About 60 feet from the stark white building a familiar voice calls out your name. Turning toward the voice, you see your knight in shining armor coming to your rescue.

-The men though, they see a furious ball of anger, one that looks like it wouldn’t stop for anything. Not even the fragile Bonnie little bird they were currently transporting.

-‘Are you fucking kidding me?? What happened?’ He yells as he gets closer. You look at him, drunk on appreciation and happiness.

-You’re glad he’s willing to step up for you even against four terrifying men. Your so love stuck that it takes you a few seconds, after Chads’ reached your little group, to realize he stopped in-front of you. He was yelling at you?

-‘Wha-?’

-‘Are you kidding me? Wow, you’re such a little bitch, I can’t have one damn thing in my life without you trampling all over it! Now you’re here EMBARRASSING Me?! How the hell did I get stuck with such a shitty girlfriend!’

-‘Chad? What are you-?’

-‘Yea chad, who th' fuck dae ye think yer yelling at? Aye know yer nae yelling at this wee birdie. If you are, then we're goin’ tae hae some big feckin' problems.’

-Mohawk man steps between you and your supposed ‘beloved’ boyfriend. The masked man standing beside him, fully blocking you from view.

-Your eyes begin to drip again as you try to listen to the angry exchange of words. You’re interrupted by a gentle hand grabbing your chin and turning you towards the kind man from before. His thumb comes up and wipes the tears away.

-‘Okay luv, let’s get you inside yea? Let LT and Soap deal with that asshole.’

-‘He’s not an ass*sniffle*hole. He’s my *choke* boyfriend.’

-‘Ex-boyfriend luv, ex-boyfriend.’ The man called Captain murmurs as you’re led through the doors.

-Unknowingly, the men that scared you shitless not even 10 minutes ago. Are the same ones that will soon show you how to live a happy life. A truly happy one.

——— Hope y’all enjoyed! ———

[waffle-runian]

Not to diverge much, or to hijack the conversation, but I'm gonna write about "translating art" a bit. I hope that it makes sense.

So, this feels like when I first started reading fantasy. Writing is a form of art that I love very much, so I remember a lot about my first impressions and all. I specifically remember reading a book about magic, the first book I bought because I wanted to read and nothing else. It was in a world where magic would be a focal point, get described with care and detail. Then idk, a popular book series about a demigod teenager that could control water, and what do you know? The water was described in full, the friendship, different dialogues, puns, the color of the eyes.

Then I read another series, this one about a boy with a dream and with a reality that made it difficult for him to pursue it, of course, the description of his sadness was longer too, his physical attributes were important, and they got a lot of attention, but not all the time either, and not really that in depth. What got the most attention were the comparisons, where he came short, and where coming short of something was being ahead on other things.

I remember reading a book following the story of a bard. It was art about art itself, in my opinion. Everything was described vividly. Stunning visuals, I could almost hear a song that doesn't even have a melody, I could grasp the process of creation without creating. It was something I was very bad at, after all. The author could make anything look beautiful and magical, even when it was the most ordinary of things.

Then came the magic. Well, part of it. It was logic, almost physics-like, followed hard rules, and you guessed it, the process of creation through it was also interesting. But then came the magic. Again. The magic that was hinted at, the soft kind, the magical kind, the one you have been preparing for up until now. The one that would require you to appreciate the art in order to understand, to appreciate everything as an artist. To see beyond what it is, what it is made of, what it looks like. To see inside, to see what it can be, what it represents and what it wants. In a way, to see it for what it _is_ (a different "is").

From top to bottom

Mage - Raymond E. Feist.

Percy Jackson - Rick Riordan

Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan

The name of the Wind - Patrick Rothfuss.

Rothfuss' writing isn't for everyone in a different way than the others. I don't know if I could explain it if I tried, but honestly? I feel great that it's something fewer people appreciate. This is, obviously, my take on those books. The actual intent behind it may differ strongly, but I don't think it matters, since art is something normally made to provoke thought and feelings. We hope the audience can get close to what we meant to say, but when they don't, we are happy that they got to experience something positive from our words/drawings/songs, etc.

I see his as the most complex out of these, the one that resonated the most with me, I guess? Probably because of the main character being the most relatable. And if just the eyes that tell the story can change so much about it, shouldn't we put much more thought into what our art could look like for people that can't "see" it the same as us? Like I already said, most of the time, your meaning will be lost, so, if you're "translating" art, how can you get close to this new audience's heart?

I mean, translating is all about that too. You can't just use the best words you think of and be done. Brazilian dubbing is famous for making jokes almost never fall flat.

If you localize the joke, you get a better reaction than when you explain the joke that only works in the original language (even though I am the kind of person that learns a language to appreciate the original material instead, and that's the reason I speak english.)

Anyway, if I got something wrong, just correct me, and if I don't get it, I'll ask.

"In recent years, there has been a rush on the internet to supply image descriptions and to call out those who don’t. This may be an example of community accountability at work, but it’s striking to observe that those doing the most fierce calling out or correcting are sighted people. Such efforts are largely self-defeating. I cannot count the times I’ve stopped reading a video transcript because it started with a dense word picture. Even if a description is short and well done, I often wish there were no description at all. Get to the point, already! How ironic that striving after access can actually create a barrier. When I pointed this out during one of my seminars, a participant made us all laugh by doing a parody: “Mary is wearing a green, blue, and red striped shirt; every fourth stripe also has a purple dot the size of a pea in it, and there are forty-seven stripes—”

“You’re killing me,” I said. “I can’t take any more of that!”

Now serious, she said it was clear to her that none of that stuff about Mary’s clothes mattered, at least if her clothes weren’t the point. What mattered most about the image was that Mary was holding her diploma and smiling. “But,” she wondered, “do I say, Mary has a huge smile on her face as she shows her diploma or Mary has an exuberant smile or showing her teeth in a smile and her eyes are crinkled at the edges?”

It’s simple. Mary has a huge smile on her face is the best one. It’s the don’t-second-guess-yourself option."

--Against Access, by John Lee Clark, a DeafBlind educator

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A follow-up to my Hanahaki Platonic Stobin drabble

Platonic Stobin, Steddie, past Stancy || rating: T || wc: 2.7k || tags: dialogue heavy, VERY excessive use of italics, fluff and flirting and humor, no beta

~~~

His sides are ripped to shreds, insides only kept inside because of the torn, dirty scrap of sweater Nancy wrapped around him. Steve’s been downplaying it as much as possible, mostly to keep Munson calm, but Robin knows better.

What’s wrong with your back?

Steve sighs, trying to mute his thoughts into a scramble like they’ve practiced so well over the past nine months, but the scorching pain on his shoulder blades, feet, and arms makes it rather difficult.

Don’t you dare ignore me Steve Harrington.

She glares back at him from her spot next to Nancy. They’ve been walking for miles, every rock and crack in the ground digging into his feet with every step. Munson’s next him, going on about something like bats, or metal music. Steve’s not sure, he’s having a hell of a time focusing.

But the guy crowds into Steve’s space, dipping in and out of orbit like he can’t help being as close as possible. Eddie keeps looking at him. Steve’s never been great with eye contact, but can’t help it when Eddie starts saying things like “the kid worships you, dude” and “insists on the matter, in fact.”

Told you the kid loves you even though he has another older adult male friend.

Steve can practically hear her giggling, but she’s just balancing her out-loud conversation with their mind-reading conversation. She’s better at it than he is, talking to two people at once. Hell, sometimes Steve has a hard enough time keeping track of just one conversation.

Their new super powers had been a learning curve, to say the least. It’d taken them months to learn how to tune each other out when needed, which was more often than not. Working Family Video shed a new light on how absolutely down-bad horny Steve was for almost every mildly attractive woman who walked through the front door. Including Joyce Byers, to Robin’s horror.

Steve was cursed with Robin’s almost near-constant thoughts about her newest crush, Vickie. He’s never met her before, doesn’t remember her from school, but could describe what she looks like down to the small, rust colored freckle on the corner of her left eye, just below the lash line. 

But even with the extensive learning curve, they discovered some severe consequences of their powers almost immediately. 

The first day Robin came over, bloodied and crying, with him no better off, Steve was so shaky he’d dropped a mug, slicing his hand as he scooped up the pieces. She rushed over, said she heard his pain more than felt it, like loud static. 

So, no sharing physical sensations, just mind-reading. Which is great for me, considering how slutty you are. She’d laughed when he lightly knocked her on the shoulder, but she’d thought it with such fondness that he couldn’t be mad if he tried.

The worst of their situation came to light when Robin’s parents called her home, said a weekend away after Star Court was more than enough. So she’d left him alone in that big, empty house, suffering from a severe concussion and dizzy spells.

Which only grew worse the longer they were apart.

Steve didn’t have anywhere to go, now jobless with the mall gone, and none of the kids came to visit. So he’d holed himself up in his room. The headaches grew worse, handfuls of pills doing nothing to help.

By the fifth day, he was vomiting again, shaking and crying, head throbbing, nose bleeding into the toilet bowl all over again when there was a knock on the door. The knock might as well have been inside his skull, but he couldn’t move, could barely see past the haze clouding his periphery like it had after his fight with Billy. He cried as the knocking grew louder, more persistent, until it finally stopped.

He slumped forward, pressed his head into the cool porcelain. Lifting his hand to flush, he noticed a small, vibrant white petal floating amidst the red and black water, all of which, presumably, came out of him.

–can’t find it. Must be… rock. The mat?

Robin?

There was a click, then the sound of his front door opening. Slow, heavy footsteps up the stairs.

Dingus where the hell are you? Not in the bedroom… Please, Steve, I need help.

That got his attention, but as he’d gone to move, the bathroom door opened to a bloodstained Robin, eyes rimmed red, hair a mess, pale and gaunt like a ghost. She dropped to the ground next to him, practically draped herself over his back. And just like before, the pain receded so violently he vomited one last time. A full, yet slightly crumpled, flower floated amidst the yuck inside the toilet. 

It was a daisy.

“Daisies are my favorite,” Robin whispered. She held out her hand to him, dirty and covered in the same green stains as the ones on her shirt, and handed him a very small, miniature sunflower. “So I’m guessing–”

My favorite.

Eventually they’d figured out what works and what doesn’t. Talking on the phone everyday never helped, back to throwing up flowers after only a week. He’d started to pull the daisies out to dry, which Robin said was gross. She took them home with her anyways. 

But he’d borrowed Robin a sweatshirt that she took home with her, and by the fourth day, she was in better shape than he was, only a slight headache instead of Steve’s encroaching migraine. So they started exchanging clothes and quickly learned it wasn’t necessarily their clothes or possessions, but their scents. 

You smell kind of like sunflowers

“Robin, sunflowers don’t have a smell.”

She was face first in his pillow, day seventeen after a two-week family vacation to Key West, returning his comforter, and a myriad of t-shirts. They’d both gotten migraines, but no vomit-soaked flowers or bloody noses. So it was an improvement, overall.

I know they don’t. It’s more like, I don’t know, sunshine. Or fresh grass. A warm rain… like summer.

He’d jumped on her then, smothered her into his mattress until she was tickling him to get off her.

“What do I smell like?” she’d asked, casual but not quite casual enough. He smiled.

Like daisies. An open field full of wildflowers. A new song, or driving with the windows down. 

She smiled back at him, wide and genuine, packed full of love. And he knew, in that moment, he was happy to spend the rest of his life with her.

“Harrington,” Eddie cuts through his reminiscing. The guy looks like he’s trying not to be annoyed, which makes sense considering he’s attempting to be nice and Steve’s completely zoned out. 

Do you have another concussion? Is it rabies?

He sighs, quiet enough that hopefully Eddie doesn’t assume it’s aimed at him. No, Robs. Just a normal dingus-where-did-you-go zone out. Relax.

She shoots him another glare over her shoulder, but ultimately lets it go.

“Harrington, you still with us?” Eddie laughs it off like a joke, but his eyes are wide, and he’s pressing in close again.

He’s warm, and without thinking, Steve finds himself leaning towards him, too– like magnets.

What magnets?

Never mind, Robs, shut up.

“Yeah Munson, I’m still here.” Steve chuckles, and Eddie relaxes a tad. “Can’t get rid of me that easy. I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Worse than an under-water tentacle monster dragging you through hell on your bare-back and almost choking you to death?”

When Eddie puts it like that, Steve really does have to think about it. “What about throwing fireworks at a giant, mind-controlling flesh monster and getting tortured under Star Court by Russian spies who shot me and Robin up with mystery drugs?”

DINGUS! If we haven’t told the Party about our super powers you can’t tell a goddamn stranger like Munson!

Eddie’s eyes are wide and dark again. He chuckles a little too loud, almost deranged. “Yeah, you know what, Harrington, that might be worse.”

They continue to walk in silence. Well, Steve’s silent. He lets Eddie ramble, talking about Dustin, something called a Munson doctrine. He calls Steve a ‘good dude’ at which Steve hopes the sky is dark enough to hide his embarrassed flush.

Eddie says something about the girls jumping in to save him, but he leans in again when he says it, and all Steve can think about is how close he is, the light brush of Eddie’s knuckles against the back of his hand–

What…?

– and the comfort that settles over Steve when he catches Eddie smiling at him. They stop in unison, Eddie leans in close to whisper like it’s a secret.

“But Wheeler, right there, she didn’t waste a second. Not one second. She just dove right in.”

Eddie’s barely shorter than him, just enough that he looks up at Steve through his dark lashes, big, brown, puppy-dog eyes hooked onto his own. He knows guys can be handsome, but he thinks Eddie might be more pretty than handsome.

I’m sorry? What the fuck is happening back there!

“Now, I don’t know what happened between you two,” Eddie says, low and slow. His voice full of honey that soaks into Steve’s brain, the actual words lost in the overwhelming sweetness of everything that is Eddie. “But if I were you, I would get her back. ‘Cause that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

Steve can’t stop staring at his lips. They’re so pink and fluffy and biteable, so he leans in, like instinct tells him. Eddie looks surprised, but brushes his finger tips against Steve’s own. He whispers, “Steve…?” like it’s more revelation than question. Eddie’s so close that Steve just–

“Are you fucking kidding me, Steven?” Robin shouts, incredulous and much too loud. Eddie flinches away from him, hides behind his hair like a turtle shrinking back into its shell. Steve’s shoulders droop in disappointment.

Disappointment? Wait. Did I almost just kiss–

“Eddie Munson?” Robin finishes his not-out-loud sentence.

“Buckley?” Eddie asks, nervous as the girl marches towards them, her eyes locked on Steve.

“Yes, Dingus!” Robin completely ignores Eddie’s response in favor of barreling up to Steve, finger so close to his face he goes cross-eyed. “Yes, you were, and oh my god I can’t believe you!”

Robs, I’m kind of freaking out right now. Can you please relax?

“You’re freaking out?” she shouts. Nancy shushes her, but it goes unnoticed. “I’m freaking out! After all this time, after Tammy fucking Thompson, this is happening right now? With– with– ” Robin wildly gestures to Munson. “Goddamn, Steve, you reek of sunflowers right now, oh my god! Just like when Joyce came into the store.”

It’s as dark as it always is, but a flash of red lighting illuminates the red painted across Eddie’s cheeks as he bites on his lip, looking nervous yet almost bashful as he pulls another larger strand of hair across his face.

“Sunflowers? What’s happening right now,” he whispers to Nancy, who shrugs. She answers with a casual, “I’m not sure, they do this a lot.”

“That’s not fair!” Steve quietly shouts back at her. “What’s wrong with–” he glances at Eddie, who flushes again. He’s so pale I bet he’s red down to his…

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Robin throws her hands over her ears and pinches her eyes closed.

Steve forces a smile to cover his gay panic. Shit, am I gay?

“No!” Robin slaps both her hands on either side of his head, mushing his cheeks together. “You’re not g–” she mushes her mouth shut, catching her slip-up just before it tumbled out of her. “And that’s not what that kind of panic means, so don’t call it that.”

“Panic?” Eddie asks, stepping towards them. His eyes are trained on Steve, flashing down to his lips, then back up to catch his gaze. Steve sees something like hope buried beneath Eddie’s tough guy demeanor. “But I thought–” he glances at Nancy before quickly looking away.

Robin rolls her eyes at him, and Eddie backs off a bit. Except his look doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Me?” Nancy asks. “What about me?”

Robin, don’t–

But it’s too late, because at that question, everyone turns to look at Steve.

Over the past few months, Steve’s started growing out his hair. It’s not really in style, but he’s seen a few guys with long hair, and they looked really good. Right now, he wishes it was long enough so he could hide behind it like Eddie. But, then again, he’d also tried growing a mustache, since Freddy Mercury had amazing style– Steve’s always like Queen.

Except my mustache never looked as good as his, so I bet long hair wouldn’t either. Maybe the short hair helps highlight it, like his cheekbones.

Jesus Christ, you’re so obvious. I can crack Russian spy code phrases enough to break into an underground military base but apparently I can’t spot a bisexual within five feet of me.

Steve sighs, dragging his hands down his face at Robin’s inside-mind rambling. Nancy, however, takes it to mean something much different. “Oh, Steve, no.” Her voice is pitying and too nice and it reminds him painfully of the last few months of their relationship. Like she’s talking to a child. “Steve, I’m so sorry, but– I still love Jonathan.”

“I know, Nance, that’s not–”

“Are you kidding me, Wheeler?” Eddie screeches. Steve really doesn’t understand how they’re so lucky that they haven’t been hunted down and eaten by now. 

Eddie’s thrown his hands up in the air, all theatrics as he gawks at her. She backs off, surprised, but quickly recovers and squints her eyes at him, crossing her arms as he continues to ramble. 

“After everything that’s happened? Steve ripping off his sweater, jumping out of the boat and beating a bat to death, then biting its head off, all while soaking wet. I mean, the way he spit that blood out.” Nancy cringes, and yeah, Steve feels the same way, can still taste the black sludge in his nightmares. 

Now that’s gay panic.

I thought that’s not what that means, Rob

Ugh, I regret teaching you things.

Eddie’s still on a roll. “He was so… I mean,” Eddie throws his arms out towards Steve, showing him off like he’s a prized cow, “look at him, Wheeler! And you’re picking Byers?”

To Steve’s surprise, the glowering ferocity in Nancy’s face morphs into a coy smile, eyebrows raised in question to an answer she’s already figured out. Because that’s how Nancy Wheeler, journalist extraordinaire, gets her story. She reads people.

Before Eddie well and truly freaks out at the turn in Nancy’s demeanor, she winks at Steve out of the corner of her eye. “Risky Business?” She giggles and rolls her eyes. 

Then, in a mortifying turn of events, Nancy pulls a strand of her curly hair in front of her face, forces her eyes open, doe-eyed and dark brown, looking up at him through her lashes, then darts her gaze to Eddie. 

Ha! You have a type! Wait, how did Nancy clock you faster than–

“Okay!” It bursts from Steve’s chest, loud enough it shocks the rest of them. They stand quiet, listening to the mundane noises around them, and breathe a sigh of relief at the resounding silence. “This has been fun, really, but why don’t we all just keep going so we can get the hell out of here and go find my– I mean our– no, the little shits.”

This is why they call you mom.

“I’m not a goddamn mom, Robin, how many damn times do I have to tell you guys that?”

“If you’re mommy, does that mean I’m daddy?” The words slip through Eddie’s mouth and, unfortunately, bury themselves into Steve’s brain. Now Steve’s not sure who’s blush is hotter, his or Eddie’s. He’d guess maybe Eddie’s, judging by the way the man grabs Nancy’s arm and hauls her away at a half sprint. 

She laughs at him, lighthearted, and slings her arm through his as they walk side by side. Steve watches as she leans her head towards Eddie’s whispering something into his ear that finally has the man’s shoulder’s relaxing. He bumps his shoulder against hers, and she returns the gesture.

Robin turns to look at Steve, really look, with sad, concerned eyes and a twist to her mouth.

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that. It just caught me off guard I guess.

Steve places a light kiss on her dirty forehead. She smiles, grabs his hand in hers, and squeezes once.

“I love you too, Rob.”

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Mate Chapter 17

Warnings: Read at your own will, trauma, bondage, abuse, assault, obsession, stockholm syndrome, brainwashing, paraphilic infantilism, loss of freedom, loss of will, religious abuse, ritual abuse, sacrilege, grey sexual assault (reader doesn't confirm), odaxelagnia, soul binding, uncomfortable themes, judgements, angst, ateez are evil (not in real life), humiliation, sexual humiliation, murder, violence, self harm, manipulation, implied non concent

Living with someone for 6 years you learn so much. You learn what makes them tick. You learn what angers them. You know there likes and dislikes. What you don't expect is for your world to come crashing down and everything you love to sicken you. Every idea of them to change. It felt wrong to say the people who cared and loved you were monsters. It was wrong to even think they were anything different and that was the hardest pill for Y/N to swallow. She knew for years the real truths but she loved that about them. She loved their flaws. She loved them, but there was nothing she could do now. Y/N had to learn to love again and learn a whole new meaning of love, but right now her heart couldn't take anymore. She was tired, hurt and heartbroken to the point Hyunjin had to drag her by the scruff of her neck back to their home. She didn't fight him, instead, she fell limp in his mouth like a dead wolf while Jeongin trotted behind them. Jeongin tried to keep his thoughts quiet, not wanting to impose his views or thoughts. "Hyunjin. Jeongin. Is Y/N alright? Please say she's alright. I tried to phone Chan but his phone is switched off." Minho ran out of the house when he saw the two wolves carrying a limp grey wolf to the door. The grey wolf looked lifeless, dead even.

Y/N could hear it in Minho's voice that he was distraught, but she didn't have the energy to lift her head up. She heard Minho walk towards her when Hyunjin let out a threatening growl, causing the beta to gasp. "Hyunjin I'm not going to hurt her. I want to see her." Minho almost pleaded but Hyunjin snarled at him. The elder beta was trying his best to reach the omega but the alphas were too standoffish. Jeongin too was not prepared to let another beta near her as he covered the omega. "Jeongin." Minho whimpered as he looked at the young alpha who he grew up with. It shocked the wolf, he never expected such aggression from the young alpha. Minho didn't know what to do, he felt lost as an elder. None of the wolves were listening to him. Seungmin and Changbin had practically outcasted Felix for causing their omega to leave. They thought that Y/N wanted to return to Hongjoong, but what they didn't realise was that she wanted to stop Hongjoong. They didn't understand. None of the beta's did and it was upsetting them. They couldn't settle knowing something was wrong with their omega. They needed their alphas to communicate, they needed to know to fix this. In the end, Minho gave up and retreated back inside to see a broken Felix curled up on the sofa, tears streaming down his face as he shook. "Felix why don't you go upstairs and rest." Minho offered. "I can't. Changbin broke my nest. He said it was all my fault. He said I'm a terrible beta. He said I should have been born an omega." Felix's shuddered as he heard a bang coming from his room.

Minho decided he couldn't take it anymore and stormed up to Felix's room to stop the Beta's when an angry Chan called them all downstairs. The four betas stood in front of Chan quietly as they faced him. "Now, I don't know what has happened, but right now my omega is my priority. What I need from you is to sort yourselves out. Until I know how she is, none of you are walking away from this. You are my pack. My wolves. My family, so do not fight. She is our family so stop this nonsense." Chan's voice was low as he spoke to them. "I-I'm sorry." Felix sniffed out. Chan gave a nod of recognition before heading outside to phase into his wolf form. Chan's silver wolf headed straight to his omega, sniffing all over her, checking for wounds. "Y/N? Baby, are you alright?" Chan nudged her with his snout, whining. Y/N flashed a load of images in her mind of what happened but Chan didn't understand so Hyunjin explained how she wanted to protect them. How she felt she could reason with Hongjoong and why her feelings were acceptable. As much as Chan didn't like seeing it, he needed to understand everything. He needed to truly understand who Hongjoong was and what he was capable of in order to protect his pack. To protect Y/N and Hyunjin. "They. They hurt her Chan. They hurt our omega. They did things." Jeongin tried to explain but ended up sharing a load of images causing Y/N to whine in pain. "I still don't understand. Someone explain to me what is going on." Chan growled as he licked her face affectionately. "Chan we need to get her to phase. Y/N never phases. She never phased with Hongjoong. She's going to be exhausted." Hyunjin explained with a huff causing the head alpha to snap his head up at the black wolf "How do you know she never phased, huh? You can read minds not her whole life story." Chan's voice was hoarse as he noticed the way Hyunjin crouched over her. He noticed it in the car as he was pulling up, the way Hyunjin was checking over her, nuzzling affectionately. Hyunjin looked as if he was familiar with her and Chan knew there was something Hyunjin wasn't telling him. Hyunjins silence told him all that he needed to know. "I stole you from Hongjoong. My omega. My soulmate lived with Hongjoong. Don't you think that's odd? You're still full of secrets Hyunjin. I thought we were past that." Chan asked darkly as he pulled the limp omega towards him with his paw, dominating his authority, and showing him the power he has. "She is yours. She is Jeongins but she is also mine." Hyunjin answered. Both wolves not realising a confused Jeongin was watching the scene unfold. He had no idea what was about to happen. "I could take her away from you. I could remove you." Chan asked causing the young alpha to gasp. He didn't expect Chan to banish Hyunjin, surely there was an explanation. "You could remove me and strip me of my titles, but then you'll never know how me and her are bound," Hyunjin stated, his wolf standing taller, preparing to challenge if he had to. "I never lied to you. I just hid my knowledge of he-" "I can still hear you, you know," Y/N grumbled causing the wolves to freeze.

Jeongin whined and crawled under his head alpha to reach the omega to nuzzle. The young alpha was feeling heavily confused and wanted her to rest. Chan huffed as he felt the small alpha crawl under him like a child. Chan smacked the back of his head at his childlike behaviour causing the younger alpha to huff. Jeongin nuzzled Y/N affectionately to remind her he still was there. "Let's phase back. I'll tell you what I know about Hongjoong." Y/N answered groggily. "We can do it tomorrow when Jisung is better." Jeongin offered. "Better? What did you do?" Y/N asked. Fear clouded her mind. "Jisung went into a rut. After feeling you around him." Chan answered, glaring at the thought of Jisung accidentally 'falling into her', until a thought popped into his head, Hyunjin would have claimed already. "Don't be so disappointed. I always looked after my pretty omega." Hyunjin taunted causing Chan to growl in a threatening manner but Y/N put a stop to it when she managed to phase back on her own, frightening Jeongin with her nakedness along the way.

Once the two hot-headed alphas put aside their feud temporarily, Y/N was ready to tell her story. It wasn't a nice story but they were all prepared for it and knew they had to listen to understand her, and quite possibly what they might be up against. "Alright. What was the last thing I said?" Y/N asked nervously. She knew it was best to start at the beginning but Y/N couldn't quite remember what point she had left on. "You told us your childhood, up until the point you were handed over to Ateez," Jeongin explained as he shuffled on the cushion, trying his best to get comfortable as he knew what was coming. "Ah. Alright. The head alpha of my pack, Jackson, my father. He handed me over to Hongjoon. Now Hongjoong's pack was a well-known respected alpha in our area and our alpha often worked closely with them along with other packs, but Jackson chose Hongjoong. Why? Because he knew Hongjoong worked with dark aura and knew a possible witch who meddled with dark magic. Of course, you knew the rumours as much as we did. Hongjoong had lots of rumours about him. What I didn't know at the time but learned later was that Hongjoong helped Jackson create an Apex. It may have been the reason both the mother and the apex died, but that's a different story or conspiracy.

Hongjoong, let's say, was very different at the beginning. When I met Hongjoong I was worried, but I was worried about being around any alpha. He knew that. He obviously knew the rumours but he wanted to prove them wrong at the beginning. Hongjoong and Seonghwa were the first two I met at the beginning. They were sweet. Very kind, actually. Hongjoong wanted to court me at the beginning. He took me on dates, and bought my flowers the usual things a head alpha would do when there courting. Seonghwa sometimes came with him, but he was a little bit more reserved. Sometimes he would ask invasive questions about my pack, my politics, my virtue, but I never questioned it. Fast forward two years I moved in with them, now bare in mind I had no idea what Hongjoong's expectations were.

Now, the first half was fine. Hongjoong was very sweet. He waited a long time before ever claiming me, 6 months actually. Hongjoong always had me involved with everything. If he went to work in the office I came with him. If he was at his computer I sat with him. When there were times he was busy I spent time with the other wolves like Seonghwa, San, Wooyoung. I never really did the things I was trained for as an omega, it was rather the opposite, but I never questioned it. They liked to mollycoddle me, I thought it was cute at the beginning.

Seonghwa. Seonghwa would do things for me, just general things like cooking for me, getting things for me, and babying me, to the point it got restrictive. I didn't notice of course. The way he would pet my hair, tell me I never needed to worry. They all did that to an extent. Sometimes if I got things wrong they would humiliate me in front of the others. Sometimes they laughed at me. Do you know how they humiliated me? They would strip me down naked for days, sometimes they didn't care if another wolf from another pack saw. They would even fuck me in front of each other and make remarks about me. It got worse to the point I stopped doing things completely. Hongjoong said I didn't need to do things just accept I was being loved, but that meant doing nothing. It meant being carried around by Seonghwa and Hongjoong all the time, to the point they bathed me, clothed me, and fed me. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't object. If I did Hongjoong would take me down into the basement where he punished the other wolves for disobedience. Some punishments were isolation. Sitting in the dark, listening to a beta being tortured. Sometimes he would cuff me with bolt cuffs. Sometimes he would cuff me with werewolf traps and ask me to rip my hands out. Sometimes he would try to drown me, poison me, inject me with wolfsbane. That was his way of saying I disappointed him." Y/N stopped and looked at the paled wolves. None of them had spoken. They were stunned into silence. Jisung and Jeongin looked close to being sick. Changbin and Felix were on the verge of tears. The others either held a frown on their face or were completely blank. "Still with me, yeah?" Y/N spoke nervously, waiting for a sign of approval to continue to speak.

"So. To the next part. The ritual. Hongjoong obviously wanted an apex there is no doubt about it. He had been trying to perfect the art of consummation. He practised on lone omegas. Took them in, had sex with them, and presented them to the dark ancestors. When it didn't work he killed them. He had to make sure it was one hundred per cent possible before putting me through it, even if it meant I died. During that night he half drugged me, but not enough to put me to sleep, but enough to keep me with it. Hongjoong was crafting with witches using necromancy to provide an apex. As I didn't have heats because of stress Hongjoong had to force one so my body would accept it. That night I found paperwork's, books of different rituals all over his desk. He was going to lay me in front of a coven of witches and fuck me with my throat slit with another alpha. A strong alpha. The problem was we lost our strongest alpha at the time because I set him free. So on the night before, I took a metal pole and whacked it around the back of his head and left. Alright, it took me longer to get out because Wooyoung heard the commotion but Yeosang managed to get me across the clearing line and told me to keep heading north. The end."

The wolves stared blankly at her, taking in every word she said. They all had questions, lots of them. Some they didn't want answered. None of them could believe what they had heard. They felt sick. "Question?" Seungmin asked as he looked between his omega and Hyunjin, "who was the wolf you set free?" "I don't remember. Seonghwa had brainwashed me into forgetting. The only thing I do remember is we were ambushed by two separate werewolf packs and one had an interest in that alpha. All I know is he was my favourite alpha and I set him free during the fight, but Seonghwa said I imagined it and that it was actually Wooyoung." Y/N answered causing Hyunjin to laugh. "It wasn't Wooyoung you set free. It was me."

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @leezanetheofficial @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @linocz @itzreetal987 @skzdreamer13 @reallychaoticwoo @liv1sworld @upsidedownchaire @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @skzdreamer13 @reallychaoticwoo @ihttinniee @kingdomofpentagon @pixie0627

[pyro-les]

One purpose - Rio Vidal X angel of love reader

1.8k words - warnings: none

Based on a request by @baysha1822

Taglist: @thecavalrywife @hannah-0730 @believe-in-magic13 @jenniferjareauwife @wandasreallover @thesharkwhalewhoohooooo @acutenobody

Rio and Y/N had been close friends since childhood, both growing up in the same village. They both had relatively normal childhoods, growing up in a time where few people even knew about magic and those who did weren't exactly offering to teach it to anyone. But Rio had always wanted to learn and so Y/N said she eould too, if Rio wnated to learn then she would help her. Rio never told Y/N the real reason she wanted to learn magic,instead padsing it off as a curiosity, just something fun to learn. But in the inside she thought that if she could maybe, just maybe she would be able to protect Y/N if it ever came to it. Rio's family had all died of a viral illness when she was barely into her tween years and she had been the only one not to catch it. Surely it was her fault that they died if she had of caught it instead maybe one of them could live, but they didn't and she vowed she would help the only person she had left.

Y/N had always been against the common rules, the idea that women didn't get a say in who they had to marry, it was much more a business proposition then a vow of love. She had always said how she wouldn't marry whoever her parents told her to, that instead she would marry the person she actually loved. However it wasn't until they were older that Rio had realised who she had been talking about all those years. It wasn't until she had looked her in the eyes and asked Rio to run away with her the day her parents told her she was to marry that Rio knew for sure Y/N felt the same way about her as she did Y/N.

For months they traveled searching for a way to find out more about magic, finding quite little until they discovered some old scrolls, teaching them small spells and the history of magic. It spoke of cosmic beings and how as time went on more and more people were chosen for these divine roles that became more necessary as the population of humans grew and grew. It spoke of people who made great sacrifices and were in reward given an important job and an immortal life. They were both fascinated by these beings, wondering how many there were and what each job entailed.

They continued to learn, their knowledge growing exponentially aswell as their love for each other. As it drew on to be almost a year after they had first escaped and the missing posters of them spread and spread they started to grow more fearful they would be found, that their new life of freedom and love would be over far too soon. What made it all the worse was that they had started seeing wanted posters too, not just asking for them to return home as they missed them but ones that spoke of anger and violence.

Their fears had turned out true as one day they ventured out to a market local to where they had been staying for awhile. They moved around every few months but this town had been safe so far, very few wanted posters and they had been careful to cover their faces as much as possible when in public aswell as removing any posters they spotted. It was unlikely they would be in any danger here, atleast that's what they had thought. But when a man had spotted them and tried to grab Rio they were proved wrong.

Y/N had retaliated by blasting some of her magic towards the man. It had freed Rio but now they had a whole new problem, everyone in town watched as the man stumbled back in pain, yelling witch to everyone in town. Y/N ran to Rio, helping her up as she had been harshly thrust to the ground by the man as he was attacked.

They both looked up to see countless angry faces closing in, people were fast to change their views on people the second they realised they were different from themselves. Rio looked to Y/N, wordlessly making a plan. They quickly grabbed each others hands and started to sprint as Rio sent out a burst of powers towards the angry citizens in an attempt to keep them back.

Y/N cursed the layout of the town, the market being in the centre made it difficult to escape to the forest. If they could make it there they would likely be able to escape the angry mob that was currently chasing them. As they turned another corner hand in hand their eyes simultaneously widened as they saw some gaurds approaching them on the other side of the street. How had they gotten there that fast? It had been only a matter of minutes since the man had recognised them and the small towns garrison had already been summoned. They turned back around but saw the villagers from before catching back up, the blast of powers not being enough to stop them, if anything it only fueled their anger. "What do we do?" Y/N turned to Rio, fear in her eyes.

She looked back at her lover with pity and a look of hopelessness, she didn't know what to do. They couldn't run anymore, she had saved her from her family but she couldn't save her now. "I don't know." Rio spoke defeated. "I don't know hun. I'm so sorry." She said again quieter with tears welling in her eyes.

"It's not your fault." Y/N said quietly, leaning her forehead against hers. The fact that they hadn't been caught already was outstanding, but she could hear the heavy footsteps as the towns small army rushed before them, she had to do something fast. "I love you." She spoke before turning towards the army, putting all of her energy into her powers bursting out all around her. It created a huge blast knocking down everyone who had been chasing them. Rio started to smile seeing that they now had a way to escape, her relief was quick lived though as she saw Y/N fall to her knees only moments later.

"What's wrong? Y/N what happend?" Rio shouted as she dropped to her knees herself to grab Y/N by her shoulders. She didn't understand what happened, she was fine a moment ago and no one had got close enough to hurt her before she struck them down.

When she looked at Y/N's face she saw how pale she had suddenly grown, all of the life and colour practically sucked out of her. Putting a hand to Y/N's chest she felt how subtle her breaths were, she knew she didn't have long left. It was all happening so quickly, only an hour ago they were living their best lives and now Rio didn't know if she could live on. Y/N had always been there for her. When she lost her parents Y/N was there to help her through the pain, when she had told her she wanted to learn magic Y/N was right there with her too, when everyone was against them they always had each other, so how could she manage without her?

She didn't think she could, if Y/N wasn't with her than there was no point in her fighting back, instead she just sat there cradling Y/N's body in her arms as she felt her heart beat slowly die out. The world grew darker around her as Rio still sat there with tears in her eyes clutching Y/N's lifeless body like her life depended on it. It took her awhile to actually notice the slow change of her surroundings, so caught up in her grief she barely looked up but when she finally did her eyes widened in shock. It had barely been midday when they had left and it was now it was almost pitch black, Rio knew this wasn't natural.

"Hello?" She called out unsure, a raspiness evident in her voice from her crying.

Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, Rio snapped her head back trying to work out who it was, gasping when she saw. There Y/N stood with a soft smile on her face. Her lifeless body still laid limp in Rios arms but here she was standing next to Rio. "How?" She whispered, looking up to her lover.

Before Y/N even had a chance to try answer a voice echoed from all around them. "You've been chosen."

They both had similar looks of confusion on their faces, what was this and what did they mean?

"You have both shown immense acts of self sacrifice and devotion. You're individual journeys will reflect in your new roles. You will be tasked with a job of great importance and in return you will be granted immortal lives and indestructible bodies aswell as cosmic amounts of power, if you accept these roles of course."

They both looked at each other in surprise, they hadn't expected anything like this to come after death. They hadn't known what the afterlife would be like if there even was one but even in all the different believes and expectations they had heard from others there were never any stories of anything like this happening. But now they were faced with an ultimatum, to take on these roles or, well they didn't really know what would happen if they didn't. Head into the unknown and hope for the best, that's all they could guess.

"What are the roles, what would we have to do?" Y/N asked curiously, looking around as she still didn't know exactly where the voice was coming from.

"For you, Y/N you would be the embodiment of love. A guide to all forms of love and passion to mankind, you would inspire all people to fight for you love just as you did. Your whole life you have fought for love with every inch of your being, it being your drive for everything you did and even your reason for sacrifice. And for you Rio, you would guide souls to the next realm. Your resilience in life even when faced with other people's death and your ability to persevere to get what you want Is incomparable. You have shown that you know what it truly means to be alive and by proxy understand death, there is no better person to to help souls cross plains then you."

Rio and Y/N both listened quietly, they had no way to respond to this, they never knew their drives had meant that much,that anything in their life had this much influence in the grand scheme of things. But they would never refuse such an offer, not just to be able to stay together forever but to help people so much. Both witches jobs were incredibly different yet equally as important and interwoven. So with one last glance to each other they nodded and shared a smile, wordlessly agreeing to the terms and with a bright flash of light they felt the change as they stepped into this new era of their lives.

A/N: please let me know if you'd like this to be a mini series. Hope you enjoyed!

[carmesi-butterfly]

childhood nostalgia with enhypen. part 1

this turned out super shitty im sorry t__t it's prolly my first time writing since march lolzies despite everything i hope you like it!!

enhypen's heeseung! jungwon! sunoo! sunghoon! + gn! reader. word count 798. warnings none. not proofread.

heeseung: searching "aliens caught on camera" on youtube.

“are you being serious? this is obviously fake!” your words were accompanied by a small giggle, “why do all these videos are recorded with shitty cameras? i can't even identify what's going on”

“what do you mean by fake?!” his indignation was more than clear, “look at how the flying saucer approaches the person; it's pretty visible” the video played on repeat a few times, pointing at this apparent ‘ovni.’

“where did you find this video? it has only 200 views, don't tell me you've been scrolling through youtube for so long that you started to find videos that only you and the person who posted it saw”

“that doesn't matter; see this one,” he said while clicking on another video, changing it to another with better quality and more illumination. “there! look at it! it's right there, imagine you're just walking by a lonely road trying to go home and an ovni starts following you”

if it was anyone else saying something like this to you you would've just laughed, but knowing your boyfriend and his beliefs, this was really serious, his big deer eyes looking at you in search of an opinion on the matter while putting the most unhinged and undiscovered alien videos of the internet.

jungwon: playing love testers.

It was your idea at first, while recalling your times as a kid with free and unlimited access to the internet the memory of you using those famous pages for kids that “calculated” your affinity with your crush by just putting their name or zodiac sign popped on your mind like a popcorn, you had to find those webs and use them with your boyfriend, it was a life or death matter!

“seventy percent?! this is not accurate, it should say one hundred…” you said in distress as if this ‘love calculating’ page would define the future of your relationship.

“I will try using our full names,” suggested Jungwon, who in the beginning was kind of reluctant about this, maybe because he wasn't interested or found it boring, but in the end, it was just a silly activity he could do with his partner. What he didn't count on was that it would become his mission to reach the hundred percent in every net he could find, reaching to the point of finding the webs you frequented as a kid to do the same. “yoi! I told you, a hundred percent! Now our names and zodiac signs are compatible.” The enormous amount of pride his expression demonstrated couldn't be described by words.

sunoo: learning vocaloid’s mirror dances.

a mirrored dance tutorial of ‘romeo and cinderella’ by hatsune miku sounded on repeat in one of the practice rooms of hybe’s building; the chorus could be heard on repeat, accompanied by your clumsy movements and the frustrated noises you would make every time you got something wrong, luckily, when you were about to reach the last level of insanity and give up on learning the choreography, your boyfriend came to your rescue! and with a lot of groceries from the convenience store.

“sunoo! how am i supposed to do this step? i'm trying but i can't get it right…” your defeated look was funny to see by your partner; doing this was his idea as a ‘fun activity’ to do and bond, but your poor ability to dance was making it difficult for you. fortunately, you have an amazing boyfriend and dance partner who will help you with everything you need!

“ooh, which part? i will help you”

the young couple stood bending in front of the ipad watching what parts were more difficult for you, and after rewatching it a few times to get the movements right sunoo proceeded to teach you everything step by step, he was patient with you because of your inexperience on the topic but couldn't stop himself from teasing you a few times if your motions were awkward.

sunghoon: playing dance dance revolution.

the levels of frustration and humiliation both of you felt couldn't even be described in words, seeing a kid that couldn't reach the ten-year-old mark publicly beating your asses in this dancing machine felt embarrassing.

“you are an idol, where are your dancing abilities?!” you muttered to your partner, who was more than immersed in the child’s dancing.

“the company should recruit him” was the only thing his mouth dropped.

“i can't believe it,” your sigh took sunghoon out of his trance. it was kind of fun seeing the pout that decorated your face, expressing your emotions through it.

“let's try again, but i don't think you will be capable of following my pace” such a cocky comment could only leave your partner’s lips, especially now with his ‘arrogant’ mood.

[paulyenvol6]

Called to the Devil (Chapter 1)

Contains: no warnings

Wordcount: ~2.52k

Masterlist of this story

'Crash', it made. And then another.

Servants in the corridors widened their eyes in fear unknowing to how to handle this situation. At last they opened the door to the damned room and saw her sitting on the floor with the doll in her hands hitting the nightstand over and over again.

"My lady….", one of the brave servant boys said quickly and the girl hesitated and looked at him.

"What?", she breathed and he lowered his head.

"Forgive me for the disruption, my lady. I was simply wondering if you mayhaps… Could do this a little more quiet." She squinted her eyes and the boy uncertainly looked to his compaignon, another sevant.

"Forgive me, my lady. I – "

But he didn't finish his sentence because Elayne threw her hair back and stood up from the floor.

"No need.", she hissed with flashing eyes. With these words she threw the doll in front of the servants on the floor.

"Send this to my father. I think he will understand the message."

The two servants watched as the girl left her chambers and once she was gone one of them exhaled loudly.

"She is difficult." The other nodded. "She is a little beast. I wonder how the King will be able to tame her."

~~~~~~~~~~

Elayne Baratheon was a girl of 16 years with long brown hair that was as wild as her character. She was small, smaller than her younger sisters even but with green eyes so fierce that every person she looked at felt as though she was burning a hole through their bodies.

Her mouth always was either tense with anger or drawn to a smug smirk but right now fury was controlling her senses as she had stormed out of her chambers. She grew up at Storm's End with her parents Marcyn Baratheon and Aenyra Targaryen and 3 sisters and two brothers. The girl had always been difficult to handle, as she used to taunt and torture her younger and older siblings, left the city without her parents' permission and played tricks on her servants.

Mayhaps Lord Marcyn had hoped that as his daughter grew older she would also grow more mature but he couldn't have been more wrong. She was choatic, messy and completely out of control, to her parents' misfortune. Elayne did whatever she felt like doing and didn't let anybody tell her what to do so when she was 15 years old her father had decided to wed her in an attempt to finally get her under control.

He did love his daughter, but he feared that she would bring scandal over their house. And though Elayne was of ethereal beauty and youth and had enchanted every lord that entered Storm's End she scared off each and every of the suiters which had given her parents a headache. They tried everything, talking her into getting to know the lords, forcing her to spend time with the suiters but Elayne had remained stubborn and refused every one of them. And most of the time she wasn't even polite. She'd ask rude questions or ignore them and humiliate them in front of every one else until the last of them had run off.

That had left Lord Marcyn with no choice but to think of something else. And he had. He had decided that it was finally time for his daughter to learn to behave like a proper young lady so he had asked the King Viserys, who happened to be his wife's cousin to take Elayne as his ward. She could spend some time in the capital, be in a different environment and perhaps learn to act like a real lady with the presence of all the other highborn ladies in court.

His daughter had refused, disobeyed, screamed and cried but he had remained stubborn. Lord Marcyn had a gentle and kind heart and a special love for his children but this time he knew he had to be strict so within a fortnight Elayne had been sent on a boat heading to King's Landing. Her father also had hoped that her time in the capital may end with a betrothal and had even told Elayne that he would be fine with any match as long as he was highborn, so desperate was he because of his daughter's fiery temper.

~~~~~~~~~~

And now there she was. Pouty lips and red eyes from all her crying.

She wouldn't give in, of course not. Elayne was hurt and sad and most importantly angry. How could her father ship her off like this? How could he send her to a strange city while the rest of her family remained at Storm's End? Aimlessly she walked around the gardens of the Red Keep. She had arrived only two hours ago and already wanted to leave.

She looked around. Maybe there was a gate or something that she could climb over and then find her way to the port of King's Landing. She didn't have any money but she had jewelery…. She could ask a captain to travel with him and one of them would certainly head to Storm's End.

Elayne's thoughts were interrupted when she saw a person on the other end of the road that led through the garden. She watched him with small eyes; he was tall, probably was about 25 years old, had silver hair and now seemed to have spotted her as well. And seven hells he was beautiful.

Slowly he walked in her direction and Elayne crossed her arms in front of her chest. She thought that he looked handsome but feared that he might bore her like all the other Targaryens she had met, especially the king. He had greeted her in his chambers, welcomed her in the name of the whole family and the rest Elayne had forgotten.

The man in front of her now smirked and his eyes were flashing.

"You must be Elayne… Elayne Baratheon, my cousin's difficult child."

Before he had spoken Elayne had looked at him curiously because his beauty and aura had left her in awe but now her mouth tensed and she clenched her hands in fists.

"I'm not a child.", she hissed.

"Oh forgive me… my lady."

"And w-who are you?"

The man chuckled. "I can already see why they sent you here, girl. Where have you left your manners? If there ever were some."

Elayne couldn't help but smirk. She liked him. He was interesting at least. He returned the smile and crossed his arms.

"Daemon. Targaryen."

Elayne widened her eyes. The Rogue Prince, the King's fierce and violant brother. But she didn't want to show her surprise so she bit her lip.

"Daemon Targaryen. In the tales I have read about, you are described as taller."

Daemon's lips were drawn to a smirk and he chuckled inaudibly. "Good. Perhaps they fear me more then."

Elayne raised her eyebrows. "Fear you? In this place where one only has to raise his finger and there are a dozen servants doing whatever he desires?"

"They are your servants now as well."

Elayne's eyes were small and her opposite clearly enjoyed her reaction. "Do not pout, little girl. You're supposed to learn how a proper lady behaves here. And that's not the way."

His voice was oozing with sarcasm so instead of further sulking Elayne smirked and came a step closer.

"Then you should learn how to properly address a lady, my Prince." Daemon looked amused as he observed the young Baratheon.

"Forgive me. My lady. Though I don't think that title suits you a lot."

"What title does, then?", Elayne asked in a slightly seducing tone and the Rogue Prince answered equally playful:

"I'm yet to find that out."

~~~~~~~~~~

A little later Elayne was sat against the edge of her bed on the cold floor and stared into the darkness. The hour had grown late and she knew she should be abed to get rest but she hadn't been able to. She was hurt, sad and angry and deep down just missed her home.

Here, everything was always so warm and humid and Elayne missed her stormy home. In the keep the sun burned on her skin through the windows while in her chambers at Storm's End the rain and wind would lash against it and make the whole castle tremble. That were always her favorite nights. When there was this tension over Storm's End and the hair on her arms stood up. But here everything was boring and heavy.

Elayne wondered what her siblings were doing right now. The should be sleeping but she knew that at least Kayl wasn't. He was her youngest brother and loved to read. 'No', the girl thought. 'He is probably in his bed using a candle as a light to read about dragons all night.' Elayne scoffed when she thought about it. Mayhaps her father should've sent him rather than her because Kayl had an obsession with dragons and their riders, she thought with a grim smile.

Her stomach was aching when she thought about her family but that sadness was overthrown with fury really quickly. How could her father do this to her? His own daughter? Did he despise her so much that he would send her to a strange city despite her pleas and begging? Elayne could feel tears welling in her eyes but quickly dried them with the sleeve of her night gown. She wouldn't give them that. She wouldn't cry like a baby but simply show them that she wasn't the kind of person to accept her faith.

Fiercely, the girl stared into the darkness as though her enemy sat before her. If anyone did, they would have thought her to be a cat with her green flashing eyes. But she was the only one in the room and right now Elayne even thought to be the only one in the world, so lonely did she feel.

All throughout the afternoon she had watched every of her encounters with a disapproving look. After she had met Daemon Targaryen in the gardens she had spent some time in the gardens though she had felt terribly bored. Then it had been time for supper and she had met the rest of her relative from her mother's side. She had already forgotten most of their names and hadn't softened up for once while her cousins and uncles and aunts had introduced themselves.

Even when she had seen the king's brother again, she hadn't shown any sign of interest though she had found it hard not to stare at him. He simply had a magnetic aura and Elayne caught herself biting her lip when he had walked from the door to the big table in the middle of the room. She thought that he was beautiful and she didn't care about what anyone could say or think so though she felt a little intimidated by the man she glared at him with a playful look in her eyes and decided to test his waters during supper.

"My prince.", she spoke to him, who sat on her opposite and Daemon's looked mischiveous.

"I do hope you acclimatised, love.", he smirked and leaned back in his chair with crossed legs.

A few people around them glanced at each other questioningly as they didn't know how came they already knew each other. But Elayne didn't notice any of the looks and if she did she wouldn't care anyway.

"I did. Enough for me to find my likings and dislikings."

The prince's smirk intensed. He really liked this wild little girl who seemed so eager to cause troubles. It was time for some fun after the past boring months and she brought some new wind into the castle's walls.

"What is to your disliking?", he asked while taking a sip from his wine. He didn't care who listened to their conversation either and just had his eyes on Elayne.

"Oh, the bows.", she spoke and her opposite lifted his eyebrows.

"The bows?", he repeated and the girl nodded.

"Yes. The wood is not flexible enough and they're too big for my liking. I prefer the ones in my home."

"I learned that the fighting pit is not a place for a young lady.", Daemon said while watching her intensely.

"I do not care what place is for me.", she hissed and the prince chuckled. "I thought so."

Then he inhaled loudly. "I shall send word to the masters-at-arms then. You're supposed to feel homely here so we might as well offer you what you're used to in Storm's End."

Elayne watched Daemon with small eyes and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"I'm used to far prettier boys than what my eyes see here as well.", she whispered and Daemon chewed on his lower lip.

"Then perhaps we shall make some adjustments here as well. Though I think you're supposed to find a husband so I don't think it matters what he looks like. Only his house and his wealth should matter to you, little one."

Elayne's eyes were flashing as she raised her chin but didn't answer immediately. She just observed the prince and then scoffed.

"And you?" She lifted an eyebrow and smiled crookidly. "What about your lady wife?"

She knew that she had hit a raw nerve. Everyone, even the Targaryen relatives in Storm's End knew that Daemon had married the Lady Rhae Royce few years ago. But everyone also knew that the bond between the Rogue Prince and his lady wife couldn't be more cold and distanced, if, perhaps one could even spoke of a bond.

"My lady wife is none of your concern, girl.", he said through clenched teeth.

She was satisfied with herself and took a sip from her cup while keeping her gaze on the cold expression on his face.

"It truly is not.", she then said. "And yet I can't help but wonder who keeps your bed warm at night with the lady Rhea miles away from the capital."

She looked at him with sweet big eyes but of course Daemon could look right through the girl's innocent look. Aenys, Elayne's young cousin and clearly the only one who had listened to their conversation as of late watched her anxiously because he couldn't really understand what it was about but was old enough to know that it wasn't a proper conversation for supper.

Daemon looked far from being angry or ashamed though and a playful smirked appeared on his lips.

"That should be none of your concern either.", he whispered. "But let me tell you that this is the city of possibilities and prospects, little one. Even for whores. And King's Landing offers opportunities to the finest in the seven kingdoms."

Daemon didn't even know why he played this game with her. Most of the times he was bored by the themes discussed during supper or what happened during councils. But something about that brunette sassy girl from Storm's End excited him and made him want to tease her the same way she clearly wanted to tease him.

So he enjoyed playing along.

[hell-drabbles]

Beleth 1

Summary: After a fight cut short with a random devil that thought you nothing more than a pest, you take a break outside the club. Beleth joins you and offers to have you bite into his skin to get the stress out.

(Fingers decided to write about Beleth instead. So I did. Here be the Companion biting Beleth! Also I just figured out that apparently Beleth and his king are fallen angels? I could be wrong but oh well. Here you go.)

There was this… specific closeness you felt towards Beleth. An understanding, if you will.

Something, whenever you two end up alone in any sort of area, the air between you two never fails to remind you of those late night hours behind a bar club. Where you're all tired from the atmosphere, and just need a moment of quiet where you can recharge, and someone comes out to do the exact same thing.

A kinship. Yeah that's what it was. You felt a kinship towards Beleth, with both of you caring for someone that can barely take care of themselves.

It's why it didn't tick you off when Beleth walked into your break spot in the alleyway. He's another person that pays attention to Ra-on, certainly, but there was this lack of visible and verbal annoyance at your being. You're just another person, as far as he's concerned, and that's enough to keep your temper even.

While you sat on the ground, just taking in the sky, Beleth took up position near you, also looking up with you. He fished for his box of cigarettes and popped out one. He grabbed it with his lips, flicked open his lighter and lit it up. He took one deep breath in, then out.

From the corner of your eye, Beleth inclined his head towards you.

"Want one?" Beleth leaned down, tapping the open box against your shoulder.

To be quite honest, you were a little tempted to take a drag. It's been a long day, the battle before had tensions high and the devils inside the club wanted nothing more than to dance, drink and fuck the feelings away. And not only that, but you had just come out of a fight with a random devil that said, "Aren't you glad I got that pest off of you, Solomon?"

He got a full wine bottle to the face, and the ensuing noise got all the other devils riled up enough to beating at one another. Well, at least they're having fun, and you got to avoid facing the full brunt of that devil's strength. And having Ra-on skitter right behind you certainly helped in having him hold back. Your ribs are still throbbing, however. Damn devils and their damned power.

"Quite a fight you started in there. Everyone's rowdy, having the time of their lives I bet." Beleth said with a breath of smoke slowly trickling out of his lips.

"Mm-hmm," you replied, because what else are you supposed to say? Are you supposed to be proud of it? That you started yet another fight because you can't stand to let words slide?

"But hey, that anger of yours, it's going to get ya into a lot of trouble." Like you're already not in trouble? "I'm not complainin', I reckon it's something you need to do to stay sane, given how you are, but that doesn't mean it make you safe."

"…tell me something I don't know." You were hoping he wouldn't dive into that subject. You know it's reckless. You know you can't keep this up and rely on luck to save the day once again. But you're just too stubborn. Besides, you know that the minute you go lax is the day you'll lose Ra-on forever. This stubbornness is exactly why Ra-on's been learning to say no more and more often.

"I know you got injured somethin' fierce the other day. You're still walkin' like you have a stitch in your side. And that fight you got into? Can't say it's made you any better. It's got me worried, ya know? Especially since pain just makes you angrier."

You gave a sigh, right from the bottom of your lungs. First Ra-on--whom you were barely able to divert his attention--and now Beleth? And you're pretty sure that changing the subject won't work on him.

Alright. Fine.

"So, I should just shut up them? Is that what you're telling me, Beleth?" Are you supposed to shut your mouth forever? Swallow down all your pride and anger and just take it until the situation in Hell is solved?

"Get angry at me. I won't kiss and tell."

"…really?" That's his solution?

"Yeah. Yell and scream until your heart gives out. I'll listen to your howls any day of the week. Just say the word, I'll try and be there for you, Sugar."

"That's not gonna solve shit. Don't call me Sugar." You still have to shut your mouth and behave.

"Sorry there, but it's the best I've got. You're human, right? Just gather up all that anger, call me up, and give it to me in one go. And who knows? Maybe I'll take care of some of the problem devils that have been tying you up in knots? Besides, it's better than nothing, right?"

"Stay quiet." You're too tired, too burnt out for this.

"Alright, alright."

When silence settled between the both of you, you adjusted yourself, positioning in such a way that doesn't put pressure on your ribs.

"Hey, I wanna ask you a question." Beleth suddenly says, flicking ash on the ground with a relaxed curve to his back, smiling at you with a tilt to his head.

"Hmm, shoot." What does he want now?

"Wanna make out?" He popped open another button on his shirt, letting the flaps fall open as though to entice you into taking his offer.

"No." It didn't work.

Beleth shrugged, as though very much expecting it. "Hey, worth a try."

He didn't bother closing his shirt. Instead, he completely undid his buttons and untucked his shirt. Once he was done, he leaned against the wall you were sitting against, took a slow drag in, then breathed it out. The wind took the smoke away from you.

Beleth turned to you and smiled. He tapped one of the various bite marks on his arm. "Wanna sink your teeth into my skin, then? You can pick any place you want. Even," he parted his shirt, letting the rays of the dying sun hit his well bitten chest, "here. I know you won't hold back."

"…you're really bored aren't you?"

"Hey, can ya blame me for wantin' to fill up my time? Smokin' always gets me in a certain mood."

And he smokes all the damn time, so what does that say? You're both creatures of rather bad habits.

…besides you may as well get a bite in. You've been grinding your teeth anyway.

"…you know what, yeah, fine." You stood up and patted dirt off your pants. "Let me just drag a seat or something out here. I'll have you sitting on my lap for this."

The cigarette hung between Beleth's fingers as he exposed his neck, gazing up at the sky as you dug your hands into his thin waist. You smoothed your lips over the raised skin of his scar, just taking a moment to enjoy both the different textures and way Beleth's throat bobbed with his swallow.

"That's a talented pair of lips you got there," you can hear the smile in the way he wistfully sighed, "Ya really know how to rile a devil up, huh? Taking your sweet time with me like this. Didn't ya want just a bite?"

Beleth jumped in your lap when you took a small nip, then pulled back. You looked at him square in the eyes, at that lightly flushed face, parted lips, and small annoyed crease in his brows.

"I like messing with you." Plain and simple. Beleth, to the rest of the masses, was this unshakable fallen angel that can never be pushed into the territory of annoyance. Never bothered, no matter how chaos rains around him. A near endless patience that even stretches to you. You can take your time. You trust that something won't snap in him.

Beleth chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. His hand slid down the back of your neck and guided you to his.

"Careful there, Sugar. Language like that'll get ya--"

You opened your mouth and let your teeth bite.

Stones ground underneath Beleth's shoes as he curled his legs in, his grip sliding down to clutch the back of your shirt instead. The muscles underneath your tongue tightened, Beleth's bare chest shivered against your own, and he dropped his cigarette in favor of squeezing your knee.

"Haha--" Beleth tried to get a laugh out, but the next sinking of your teeth had that quickly die into a hiss. "When you bite you really--haa--bite."

It's nice, watching the blood trickle down from the open wounds, trailing down his heaving chest and getting absorbed into the band of his straining underwear.

"Mm-hmm, like you said, I don't hold back."

"Haha, and neither," Beleth grasped his shirt and ripped it into scrapes of cloth, leaving him bare before you, "do I."

[hihomeghere]

Right Person, Wrong Time / John Marston x reader

Summary : You and John have constantly been at each other's throats until you left the gang after he chose Abigail over you. When you return you find him gone, leaving Abigail and Jack. You create a relationship with Abigail and Jack, but what will happen when John returns? Warnings/tags : Hate fucking, unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it), swearing, slapping, choking, hair pulling, biting breasts, unrequited loveish, John being an awful parent, slight Abigail x John, reader x John, reader becomes a parent figure it Jack, angst, no happy ending Word count : 2.5k

You supposed fate had it out for you. To dangle John in front of you like it did. Two scrappy street kids raised alongside each other. Like two starving dogs fighting for scraps, you were always at each other's throats. Arthur could hardly stand one of you at a time, but the two of you together had him damn near tearing his hair out. 

The old guard had hoped that once the two of you got older, things wouldn’t be so volatile around camp. But the churning hormones inside the two of you only poured gasoline on the fire that was you and John. 

Dutch and Hosea quickly learned that the two of you couldn’t be trusted to work a job together. That job ended in your first wanted poster going up in Armadillo. John tore one down and kept putting it up around camp, much to everyone’s disapproval. 

Hosea said it was because the two of you were too alike. Forced out on your own, fighting to survive in a dog eat dog world. Stuck in this rivalry that you had created. Dutch had seen it before anyone else had, the smoldering fire inside you that yearned for John’s spark. 

But then Abigail came along. You hated her. Hated her pretty eyes, soft lips, more than anything you hated how John couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. She was just a working girl, you had seen hundreds of working girls come and go but she… she stayed. She stayed and for some reason John couldn’t stay away from her. 

Always sitting next to her around the campfire, looking at her with that stupid lovesick look. It made you sick. So instead of facing the fact that stupid John Marston was in love with someone who wasn’t you, you ran. 

You packed in the dead of night, like a coward, and ran off. It was harder on your own and as much as you hated to admit it, you missed the gang. More than anything you missed John. But you were stubborn, you wanted to prove to yourself that you didn’t need them, didn’t need him. 

It was fate when Arthur found you running a con on some rich folk. Asked you to come back, just for ‘one night’. You went back with him, knowing that this ‘one night’ would turn into many nights. Dutch and Hosea welcomed you back with open arms, something you hadn’t been expecting after being gone so long. Although your loyalty had never been with the gang, it was always with John. 

Although John was gone, like two ships passing in the night. Had run off about a week earlier from what Arthur had said. Leaving Abigail and his son. His son. 

A tiny boy with brown hair and eyes, barely a year old. Poor Abigail, the girl was a wreck. Dealing with her son and his piece of shit father. 

You don’t know why you attached yourself to them, stepping in and acting as a second parent to Jack. Perhaps you felt like you owed it to them, that you had harbored so much hate in you over a foolish man. A foolish man that had everything he could want and threw it away. Deep down you knew that it was for a more selfish reason. You felt close to John in some awful way when you were around Abigail and Jack. You saw so much of John in him, in his gummy smile. When he would laugh, deep in his belly. 

The little boy had captured your heart, just like his father. 

You knew that Abigail knew, knew the feelings you harbored for the father of her son. You supposed that everyone knew why you ran off. Ironic that you returned when the prodigal son had left. 

“I don’t hold it against you.” She said one day, breaking the silence between the two of you as you did your chores.

“Pardon?” You asked, looking up at her.

“John.” She said simply, her blunt words made your mouth run dry. “I don’t hold it against you. If that’s why you’re- you’re bein’ so kind. I don’t need charity.” She pursed her lips, hanging up a shirt on the line. 

“It ain’t charity I-“ You worked your jaw as you looked down, “I care for your son. I care for Jack. Hell I- I consider you a friend. Unless I’m oversteppin’?” You raised your eyes to meet her icy gaze.

“I’d like to be your friend.” She said, although her gaze didn’t soften.

And then one day the bastard returned. You didn’t know who was more mad, you or Arthur. He reached him before you did, slamming him up against a nearby tree. 

“You yellow bellied-“

“The hell you doin’!”

“Boys!” Dutch’s voice cut through their growls, striding over to all three of you. Your jaw was clenched so hard your teeth ached as you stared John down. As much as you hated to admit it, part of you was glad to see him. His hair was longer than the last time you had seen him. His dark raven locks down to his shoulders. Your stomach twisted as his eyes landed on you. You turned, stalking away from the men as Dutch began a speech to ‘calm’ the men down. 

Abigail was seething, bouncing Jack in her arms as she paced. 

“Want me to take him so you can kick his ass?” You asked, glaring at him over your shoulder. 

“Please.” She huffed, handing him off as she stormed over to him. A small bit of satisfaction filling you as her open palm connected to his cheek. You turned your gaze back to Jack, reminding your traitorous heart what really mattered. 

You knew it was only a matter of time before John cornered you. The sun had set and you were getting ready for bed when he stopped by your tent.

“You’re back.” His gravely voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“So are you.” You huffed, keeping your back to him as you set your guns down.

“Why’d you come back?” His words sent liquid fire through your veins.

“Why’d you leave?” You hissed, spinning around to face him. He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “How could you?”

“Don’t give me that.” He scoffed, looking away from him.

“Excuse me? You have a family John.”

“And you didn’t?” He growled, his teeth bared like a wild dog. “You just packed up your shit and walked out on us, on all of us.”

“You don’t get to be mad over this.” You seethed, pointing your finger in his face. “We are not the same.”

“Oh sweetheart we’re the same kind of screwed up.” He sneered, holding his arms out. 

“No we ain’t.” You shoved him backwards, “I was here when it mattered. When your son said his first word, when he walked for the first time. I was there.”

“Oh congratulations, parent of the damn year.” 

“You ran cause you got scared, you damn coward.” You hissed, your emotions bubbling to the surface.

“And what’s your excuse hm? We all know why you ran.” His words made your blood run cold.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I know everything about you.” He said closing the distance between the two of you. “I know you ran cause you couldn’t stand not havin’ me.” You clenched your jaw, swallowing past the lump in your throat.

“You’re a real fucking piece of work John.” He caught your wrist as you turned. 

“Tell me I’m wrong.” He pulled you closer, an iron grip of your wrist. His dark eyes boring into yours. 

“You’re wrong.” You hissed, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Really?” He asked, his voice raising in volume. He surged forward, crashing his lips against yours. It took you a minute to respond, your heart and head at war. Your palms pushed against his chest as he stumbled backwards. His lips parted as he stared down at you. You surged forward, pulling him towards you by his collar. It was a clash of teeth and tongue, a fight for dominance. 

You parted, your lips swollen as you tore at his clothes. He got the memo quickly, undoing his gun belt, letting it fall to the floor with a clang. Halfway undressed he pounced on you like a man possessed. His hands were everywhere and yet your body craved more, more, more. 

Your hands threaded through his hair. Grabbing a chunk near the nape of his neck as you pulled his head back. His eyes caught yours in the low light of the lantern, his teeth glinting as his lips pulled back in a wolfish grin. 

“Your bark is a helluva lot worse than your bite.” He huffed, holding your hips in a near bruising grip. You clenched your jaw, liquid fire rushing through your veins. “Tell me you don’t want this, don’t want me.” He taunted, panting as you tighten your grip on his hair. 

“You’re a piece of shit.” You spat.

“And what does that make you, sweetheart?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. You tugged at the base of his skull, a low groan leaving his lips as he laughed. He walked you backwards, your calves hitting your cot. 

“Fuck you.” You hissed, feeling his hot breath waft across your face.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” His mouth was back on yours, his fingers moved with precision as he unbuttoned your shirt. He roughly grabbed your breast, swallowing the low whine he pulled from you. He pushed you down onto your cot, slotting himself between your legs. He made quick work of undressing you, muttering to himself. “All hot and bothered- you think you’re so damn special don’t you?” He hissed through gritted teeth.

“Like you ain’t much better golden boy.” You growled, tugging at his union suit, hoping he’d get the message. He did, pulling his arms out and kicking the fabric off as you finished undressing. 

You had pictured this exchange happening differently in your head more times than you wanted to admit. In your mind, your first time with John was slow. Each of you would take time to worship each other's bodies. Mapping out each scar and blemish, committing them to memory. Soft kisses trailed along your skin, words of affection passing between your lips. 

As he kicked off his union suit, his cock sprang up against his stomach. The tip red and weeping between his legs. His hand closed around your ankle, yanking you down the cot, closer to him. His hand cupped your mound, his finger trailing down your slit. You hated to give him the satisfaction as he found you slick with desire. He ducked his head, biting at your breast. You gasped as he ran his tongue over the teeth marks before wrapping his lips around your nipple.

“Act like such a damn brat,” He said, pulling off with a loud pop, “Now look at ya, just drippin for me.” Your face burned as he ran his finger through your folds. Your open palm connected with his cheek. His head snapping away from you, your own hand stinging as you pulled back. He let out a low chuckle, hanging his head. His hands wrapped around your thighs, pushing them up against your chest. Folding you in half as he lined himself up with your entrance. He drove into you, knocking the air out of your lungs with a squeak.

“Goddamn you’re tight.” He hissed in pain and pleasure as you raked your nails down his back. He ruts into you like some animal, his lips parted and swollen as he huffed. You bite down on your lip, trying to stifle any traitorous moans. The dark patch of hair at the base of his cock rubbed against your clit. Your whole body felt ablaze as he pounded relentlessly into you. The sound of skin on skin echoing through the small tent. His heavy balls hitting your ass with each thrust. Your cunt ached as he carved out a space for himself inside you, reaching places you didn’t think possible. 

Blood roared in your ears as you’re dragged closer and closer to the edge of pleasure. Your eyes rolling back into your head as your body is propelled up the cot with each thrust. His hand closed around your throat, squeezing slightly and you’re gone.

Wave after wave wash over you as you writhe under him. Mewling as your legs shook on either side of his shoulders, your head felt fuzzy as his hips stuttered. 

“Shit don’t-“ He bit his lip, “I can’t-“ He pulled out of you, flipping you over onto your hands and knees. He slammed back into you, his chest sticking to your back with sweat as he laid over you. His arms on either side of your head as he held himself up. 

“Fuck John!” You cried out, biting down on your lip. Your body was ablaze as his hand pressed your face into the cot. 

“God damn-“ He groaned through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips stuttered. Pouring himself into you as he collapsed on top of you. 

Both of your breaths filled the air, your chest heaving as he rolled off of you. He left you empty and leaking onto your cot, although that was the least of your worries.

You just fucked John, well technically he fucked you. But Abigail… Abigail and Jack. God if she found out you’d never be able to earn her trust back. John let out a long sigh, running his hand over his face. A smirk tugging on his lips as he looked over at you. 

You felt sick to your stomach as you felt his cum drip out of you. You got up, grabbing his clothes and throwing them at him. He caught them and held them against his chest, his brows furrowing as he looked up at you. 

“The hell are you doing darlin’?” He asked.

“Don’t call me that.” You huffed, stepping into your bloomers. “This- this was a mistake. You know it, I know it, shit you have a family, John. Abigail, Jack-“

“Is that what this is about?” He scoffed, narrowing his eyes as he sat on the edge of the cot. “They’re in the past.”

“No!” You snapped, “They’re right here in this fucking camp! Waiting for you.”

“Who knows if the boy is even mine-“ He started, throwing up his hand.

“Oh don’t pull that horseshit, we all know he’s your son.” You scoffed, buttoning up your shirt. “God I’m a fool.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Guilt settling over you like a blanket. “Get out.”

“What?” He asked, his eyes finding yours.

“This was a mistake.” You said shaking your head, “You may not have any loyalty but I do. I- This never happened.” His jaw clenched, anger burning in his eyes as he roughly dressed himself. He stopped next to you, staring you down.

“So this is it?” He scoffed, shaking his head as you didn’t respond. Your arms crossed as you hung your head in shame. “Unbelievable.” He muttered as he stormed past you, knocking his shoulder against yours as he left your tent.

You sat down on the edge of your cot, putting your head in your hands. Hating yourself for being so damn weak, hating yourself for enjoying it, hating yourself for your undeniable feelings for him.

What had you done?

[lady-iskra]

I'd like to add that while Zuko was of course hoping for her forgiveness by accompanying Katara on this journey, he by no means felt entitled to—because this is something I saw people pointing out. After Azula's attack, he asks Katara why she doesn't trust him while the others already do, and then, when she throws the reason at him, Zuko realizes that he wronged her the most; such as his "ouch"-expression shows. He may have expected to have earned everyone's forgiveness by his deeds, and was proven wrong; so, he hoped to receive it by going the extra mile with her.

I also have the feeling that people tend to forget that Katara at the beginning of the journey isn't supposed to know that Yon Rha is a retired, pathetic guy. In her head, he is still a soulless sick monster, killing innocent people with no regret, sheltered by his position. She sure wouldn't have spared him if he turned out to be exactly the monster she'd always imagined. Not necessarily for closure, but to make sure he can't kill innocent people any longer; with every right to do so and no regret afterward. But that's why Katara needed this: facing and confronting him to learn what kind of person he is and to take action or not, depending on how he turned out to be.

But, no wonder if Aang-/Bryke-stans portrait Zuko as the "dark guy leading her to the wrong path", no matter what the narrative is telling us. Again, this is something Bryke used against Zutara, showing that they either don't or won't understand their own characters as soon as it comes to the ships. Bryke in an interview claimed that Katara through the whole journey with Zuko had Aang's words in mind, him sitting on her shoulder like an angel talking sense into her and leading her to do the right thing. Elisabeth Welsh, who wrote the episode, got upset and corrected them. I can't find the source anymore, but she said that to spare Yon Rha (spare, not forgive) was Katara's decision alone, without anybody having an influence on her. She found closure under her own conditions, and Zuko was the one supporting her, nothing more, nothing less.

No, Zuko did not lead Katara down a "Dark Path" in The Southern Raiders

Watching Southern Raiders again, and it's bizarre to me that people read that episode as, "Zuko leading Katara down a dark path." Zuko just wants her forgiveness. He fucked up with her severely and to a level that's different from the others. She feels betrayed by him--she was betrayed by him. She trusted him and he all but spat that back in her face so yeah, she's mad. Is it selfish using her desire for justice, closure, maybe revenge to get her to stop being mad at him? Idk perhaps, if you read it that way.

But the way I read it, I read it as him using his resources to give her what she wants most, and that's her mother's killer. Since he was the face of the enemy, since he lost her trust, let him earn that trust back by taking her to the real face of her enemy.

It's the literal least he can do.

Then he steps back. Zuko let's Katara lead the mission, let's her defend herself against Aang and sadly Sokka too while only playing support. Zuko got a comment in there or two, but for the most part it's Katara doing all the talking.

Also something important people forget is that, neither Katara nor Zuko brought up revenge, that was all Aang accusing them(meant to type her, but saying them fits more) of seeking revenge. Maybe that was her unconscious motivation, but Aang was the one who brought it to the forefront of their minds. Zuko states that this is about Justice and closure, Aang was the one who made this about revenge.

After all that back and forth is said and done, Zuko is largely quiet the rest of the episode save for like 3 lines, none of them involving him telling Katara what to do or what she should do.

Katara leads the mission, Katara makes the choice to bloodbend even when Zuko was already facing the SR general on the boat. He didn't tell her to do that, he wasn't in a pinch so she would've needed to do that, hell she didn't even have to do any of that at all considering there was still water on the ground.

These were all Katara's decisions, all Zuko did was stand by her side.

This isn't me trying to say that Katara's making bad decisions. Far from it actually, I heavily agree with Katara's decisions. This isn't even a "supporting woman's wrongs" scenario either. Katara's completely in the right in my mind.

This is a mission involving finding the man who killed her mother. Not kidnapped like Appa (comparison courtesy of Aang), not whatever the hell the comics are doing with Ursa, murdered. Kya is never coming back and it's because of Yon Ra. Little Katara had to see her mother's dead body after the act was done and has to live with the pain and guilt of it all knowing Kya died to protect her. She's traumatized, she's hurt, so she's very much justified in wanting revenge and it's disquieting how so many people make this about Zuko leading her down some dark path for saying "I want to find the man who killed my mother and took her away from me." Bryke included.

Again, Zuko stands back, adds support in the fight when needed, but ultimately is there as her backup and sources.

And yet, people see all of this as Zuko leading her down a dark path. Because he dared to stand back and not talk Katara down from wanting to merc the man who took her mother away from her. What a villain, she said sarcastically.

Realistically, why would he stop her?

If anything, the fact that Zuko was the only one in her corner for this says a lot because of everyone there, he gets it. Sokka should've gotten it too, but that's a separate point for separate post.

He too lost his mother to the Fire Nation. Whether she's dead or missing, the Fire Nation and, namely his Father to put a face to it, took his mother away from him. He lost her and he believed that she was never coming back. Katara and Zuko are the same in that regard. Something he verbally empathizes with her in the Crossroads of Destiny episode.

He knows she needs this because he's been there, is there, and very much wants to have done that. If facing the Fire Lord wasnt Aang's destiny (and this wasn't a kids show, along with other in meta perspective) it doesn't feel to far to say Zuko probably would've killed Ozai.

Revenge for his mother is a side goal, but it's out of reach as of this moment. He has no information on what happened to her or where she is, so he can't do a thing. He sees Katara, someone who badly wants to regain trust with, with a similar goal and mindset and he actually has the means of helping her. Of course he takes it, but this is her mission, not his. He just provides the information and helps her getting there. That's all, everything after the fact comes down to Katara's choices.

When the moment of revenge happens and Katara decides to not kill him, does Zuko say anything? Does he asks her "what are you doing? He's right there, get revenge!" No. He doesn't say anything. He lets her leave, stares down Yon Ra for a second and follows after her in silence. You cant apply headcannon like "maybe he tried to convince her after the fact," because that can easily be countered with the head canon of him comforting her telling her she did the right thing. Going soley off what we saw in canon, on screen, Zuko watches Katara spare him from skewering the man with ice.

He does have a shocked expression in the background but that can either be read as "wow she didn't do it," or "holy shit she probably could've killed me 10 times over." Again, nothing verbal from him, only expressions, so it's hard to say firmly what he's thinking.

I got away from my main point for a second, but I'm coming back to it to say, none of this is Zuko's doing. Zuko didn't lead Katara down any path, he didn't encourage her to enact a bloody revenge, what Katara does was all her own actions, all he did was point in the right direction. Kinda shit how by making it seem like Zuko's manipulating her, it takes away from Katara's agency in the situation. She made her decisions and no man influenced her.

The only who actively tried to was her brother and Aang into forgiving their mother's murderer for some insane reason that I still can't fathom. Maybe from doing something she'd regret, possibly, but the in canon reason we get is, "don't do it. It's a dark path, you should forgive him for your own sake. Insert the Appa comparison" I bring that up again, because Appa was kidnapped, and then found again and they were all reunited. Yet Aang compared that to Kya being murdered and left for her daughter and husband to find. There's a stark difference.

Aang's pain in that regard is understandable and dare I say more supported by the fandom and show, while Katara is pratically being told by everyone save for Zuko to sit down and forgive for some inane reason that rings hollow, feels insensitive at the absolute best and takes away her agency by turning it all on Zuko as him making her choices for her.

It's shit, and an absolute misread of what the episode showed us, something Bryke somehow missed too.

I'm gonna conclude this with a quick summary of the end of the episode. Katara doesn't forgive Yon Ra, yet spares his life because he's just pathetic. Aang's weirdly giddy telling her that he's glad she forgave Yon Ra, and Katara having to shut that shit down and tell him that no, she didn't forgive her mother's killer, she never will, and she's conflicted on letting him live. Then Katara gets a soft look and smile for the first time in a good long while in the episode as she tells Zuko that she does forgive him. We get a Zutara hug (iconic) and the episode ends on a happy-ish, bittersweet note for her. Zuko does tell Aang that he's right and violence isn't what she needed (an admittedly weird line considering seconds before she just said she doesn't know if she was too weak to kill him or too strong too, implying she probably would've gone through with killing him, but whatever) but that's when Katara is out of earshot.

Zuko didn't lead her down any dark path, he left himself be lead by her and was willing to let it happen. It being whatever Katara's decision was going to be. Good, bad, middle, whatever would have happened would have all been Katara's decision and her agency shouldn't be ignored because of a bad-take misread of a pretty clear cut episode with very little ambiguity.

[fandomfablesunleashed]

When Leaves Fall

Kazuha x reader

English is not my first language

I wrote it like two years ago after learning about Kazuha's backstory, and I finally got around to editing and posting it. It was the first thing I wrote for Genshin, and, unashamedly, I still love it.

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He ran to you as though every heartbeat depended on it, unable to bear the thought of leaving without one last glance, one final touch. For two weeks, he'd been on the run, evading shadows and whispers, haunted by his past and hunted by those who believed him guilty. But one thought anchored him through it all: he had to see you. He moved carefully, assessing every step and ensuring his presence wouldn’t bring you any trouble.

You were waiting, standing under the old maple tree, where countless stolen moments had once blossomed in the dappled sunlight. Yet today, you looked different, your face etched with worry, your lips pressed tight, and your fingers winding anxiously through your hair—a telltale sign of a troubled mind. As he slowed to take you in, his breath caught. Even under a veil of sorrow, you were magnificent—a sight he wanted to lock in his heart forever. The reality of what he was about to do clawed painfully at his chest.

“I heard about what happened,” you began, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I was so worried about you. It’s… heartbreaking. He was a kind, good person, and you… you deserve better. So much better.” Your words wavered, and you couldn’t meet his gaze.

He moved closer, close enough to notice the glistening traces of tears marking your cheeks—a painful revelation. His anguish felt suddenly insignificant in the face of yours. How much have you suffered since hearing the news?

“Please,” he said softly. “We can’t dwell on the past as it is unchangeable. And you shall not disturb your mind with my troubles. I did not come here to seek pity from you.”

You gave a sad, quiet laugh, devoid of its usual warmth. “I know that. But I cannot help but feel my heart break for you. You have a pure soul, undisturbed even by the immense pain you’ve experienced in your life. And now…” You shook your head, anger darkening your eyes. “Now you did nothing wrong, and yet, you're probably the most wanted criminal out there. It’s ridiculous, even.”

You finally turned to him, and he felt the weight of your gaze—the love, the pain, the silent desperation. He must have looked a mess: weary, disheveled, his crimson eyes shadowed by sleepless nights and relentless worry. But you looked at him as though nothing else in the world mattered.

“That’s why I came,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’ve come to say goodbye. Being near me isn’t safe. You know that.”

You signed deeply upon hearing this. You got accustomed to saying goodbye to him. But this was different. It seemed final.  You may as well never see him again. And that was too much. How can you go on with your life without him by your side?

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Stay with me. You could hide here, with my family. My father has ties to the Tenryu Commission—they’d never suspect you here. We could keep you safe; find a way out of this…” Your words were choked, tears spilling down your cheeks again, your gaze pleading. “There has to be a way.”

He shook his head, a gentle, sorrowful smile playing on his lips. “I would never put you, nor your family, in harm's way. I would never know peace knowing I could bring danger upon you. I must leave. We both know it.”

And you did. But that didn’t mean it was any less painful. You let the tears flow freely, no longer hiding the grief you felt at the thought of losing him. He lifted a hand to your face, his fingers brushing away a tear, his eyes soft, drinking in every detail of you, as if committing it to memory one final time.

“I…” always the eloquent, the poet suddenly could not find the words to convey everything he wanted.

Just as he was about to say something more, the wind carried the faint sound of soldiers approaching. “No time, then,” he murmured, casting one last, longing look at you. In that instant, he decided that perhaps, this time, actions would say more than words ever could. With quiet resolve, he moved closer, inch by inch, until he pressed his lips firmly to yours.

You felt your hand rise instinctively to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers. You held each other in that kiss, pouring everything unsaid into the embrace, as though it might be the last thing you’d ever share. And maybe it would be. You lingered, savoring every fleeting second of that bittersweet moment, until the approaching footsteps grew louder, shattering the spell.

Reluctantly, you pulled apart, and he looked at you through tear-brimmed eyes, offering a soft, trembling smile. You returned it, a faint smile of your own, holding on to the memory even as the world pulled you away.

“Go,” you whispered, your voice a plea. “Be safe.”

He nodded, his tears beginning to slip free. “Remember, the fate that brings people together is not a cord so easily cut. I will do everything in my power to return. To you.”

And with that, he turned and slipped into the shadows, accompanied by the red leaves falling from the maple tree. How appropriate. He had lost his home, his family, his name—and now he had lost you too, the last light in his life. As he faded into the darkness, the weight of longing wrapped around him like a shroud, heavy yet familiar. A fierce determination flickered to life in his chest, a spark ignited by the thought of you. He would return. He had to.

Deep within your heart, you clung to a fragile yet unyielding hope—that this was not a final farewell, but a temporary parting. The memory of your love, unspoken yet profound, etched under the watchful gaze of the maple tree, filled you with strength. For the maple would remember. The leaves would bear witness, rustling softly in the breeze, echoing the promise that your bond would withstand the trials of time and distance.