#because she will just reach out and hold it and Even will let her.

[hoshifighting]

omg hiiii, thank you sm for writing like all of the writing pieces are so insane and so good, can i request overstimulated reader to the point of crying (but on comfort level, ofc) with joshua our gentleman. have a good day <3

joshua overstimulating reader

a/n: thank you for all the love <3

WARNINGS: smut, vibrator, leg restraint, mentions of aftercare, dirty talk, a bit of dumbification, praising

“oh, poor baby,” joshua coos, his voice syrupy sweet, like he's trying to comfort you who is currently trembling and barely holding it together. "what's wrong, princess? too much?"

your legs twitch against the restraints, uselessly tugging, and your head is shaking no-no-no because it’s too much, but you’re also nodding because if he stops now, you’ll probably cry for a different reason. the vibrator against your clit is relentless, buzzing away, and your whole body is trembling, overstimulated to the point where tears are streaking down your cheeks.

“aww honey, look at you,” he hums, brushing a strand of hair out of your sweaty face like you’re some kind of fragile artwork. “so pretty when you cry for me. you like being like this, huh? all dumb and desperate?”

you let out this broken sob, trying to arch your back, trying to do anything to escape or chase more—honestly, you don’t even know anymore. his fingers trace your thigh, featherlight, but you flinch like he’s shocking you.

“shh, shh,” he soothes, though there’s nothing soft about the smirk on his lips. “my princess is so sensitive, isn’t she? such a good girl, taking everything i give her.”

“shua—!” you gasp, voice cracking as another wave of pleasure punches through you. your hips buck uselessly, your thighs straining against the restraints, and you don’t even realize you’re crying harder until he reaches out to wipe the tears off your cheeks.

“shh, baby, it’s okay,” he coos, his thumb pressing gently against your trembling bottom lip. “all messy, all mine. you wanted this, didn’t you?”

“yes,” you manage to choke out, voice barely audible over the sound of the vibrator and your own wrecked whines.

“good girl,” he praises, and fuck, the way he says it makes you clench around nothing, your body shaking even harder. “you’re so good for me. so perfect, letting me use this pretty little body of yours.”

his hand slides down, grazing your overstimulated core, and you let out this wrecked, high-pitched noise that makes him chuckle. “but you’re so dumb right now, aren’t you, baby? can’t even think straight, huh?”

you shake your head, another sob ripping from your throat, and he looks so fucking pleased with himself, like this is exactly where he wanted you—completely undone, totally at his mercy.

“my pretty little princess,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead so sweetly it makes your heart ache. “you’re doing so well for me. just a little more, okay? you can take it, can’t you?”

“i—i don’t—i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he cuts you off, his voice firm but still kind, like he’s talking you through a particularly rough workout. “you’re my strong girl, remember? my good girl. you can give me one more, right? i will help you. shua will cuddle with you after you cum one more time, what do you think?”

the thought makes you whine while you chase the vibrator and his hand at the same time. he smiles widely when he notices that the thought of cuddling with him excites you this much.

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 9

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 8 of...who knows.

It felt like forever. He knew it wasn't. It must have been minutes until the car door was ripped open and Charles slipped in right next to him.

It wasn’t until the doors were slammed shut behind Charles that Max dared to look at the Monégasque.

His heart skipped a beat at the sight. Charles was still in his racing suit just as him, the suit itself streaked with sweat.

The moment the car door closed, the car started riving.

"Merde," Charles cursed. Max could only agree. "I am sorry, that it took this long."

Max gave a sharp, jerky shake of his head. "You don’t have to apologize," he somehow managed to get the words out. "I’m just..." he trailed off, a shaky exhale escaping him. "How could you make it here so fast?" he asked, casting a quick glance in his friend’s direction.

Charles snorted. "Your press officer had a shouting match with Ferrari's,“ he said simply.

If Max wasn’t so focused on not completely losing it, he might’ve been amused with the mental image. But at the moment, he could only shake his head.

Next to him, Charles let out a sigh. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"No. You?" he gave back.

"I don't have a bad feeling," Charles said quietly. “Not worse than it has been for days at least.”

Twin Telepathy was apparently a thing as far as Charles and Colette were concerned. 

Quite frankly, till this day, it still weirded Max out. They just seemed to know when the other one wasn't feeling well. 95% of the time, they got sick at the same time. They communicated more easily with each other than with anyone else, and regardless of what game they played...they needed to be put on opposite teams, because otherwise nobody had a chance against them.

Max was well aware of Colette and Charles' strange connection. Even if he didn’t fully understand it. They both had some sort of sixth sense when it came to the other one, and it sometimes felt like they were talking in secret code.

"What’s it telling you right now?" he asked, his voice barely above a rough whisper.

Charles turned to him fully at that, and Max saw the way his eyes swept over him, taking in every aspect of his appearance.

Max could only imagine what Charles was seeing. He felt like a walking wreck, and there was no doubt his appearance was mirroring that.

"Colette is in pain," Charles finally said, his voice strangely quiet. "She’s scared."

That answer felt like somebody shoved a knife into Max’s stomach. He inhaled sharply, the breath catching in his throat. “Of course, she is,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

Charles seemed to sense what he was thinking, even without being telepathically connected through whatever the hell Colette and him had going on. The Monégasque reached out and took a firmer hold of his hand, the grip almost crushing.

"Don’t," Charles said firmly, his voice leaving no room for arguments. "Don’t go there. We’re gonna get to her as fast as we can."

There was a brief moment of silence, as Max tried to collect himself. He focused all his attention on the pressure of Charles' hand on his, and somehow, it actually helped.

"I feel so goddamn useless," he finally admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "I want to be with her."

"You want to try calling her before we are in the air?" Charles suggested.

That was not a bad idea, not at all. Max let out a low and slightly shaky exhale, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, I…” he had to stop and clear his throat. “Yeah, I’ll try to call her.”

His hands were shaking when he pulled out his phone out of the backpack that somebody had handed off to him, already packed. Regardless of all the drama that had gone on in the RedBull garage during the year… if it really mattered, the people in there pulled off minor miracles.

Within minutes, his entire day - hell, his entire week - had been packed for him, with all the essentials of clothes and everything else he would need.

He had almost forgotten about the phone in his shaking hands, but now he just stared at the screen for a moment. His fingers were trembling so badly that just unlocking the phone was a challenge in itself.

Jimmy and Sassy were on his lockscreen...a picture that Colette had once sent him when he had been away for one of his races...the two of them laying on top of her on their couch...

Every other time Max saw the photo, it made his heart do a little funny jump. Now though, it made his chest ache. It felt like a sharp stabbing pain, and for a moment, he just sat there and stared at the picture.

Then he called her.

It rang. And it rang, and it rang again. With each passing second, that horrible knot in his stomach tightened a little more. With every ring of the bell, it got harder to breathe.

Finally, to Max’s immense and enormous relief, the line connected.

"Hey, Maxie. I put you on speaker," Victoria's voice came over the phone, sounding surprisingly calm.

A shiver of something resembling dread ran through Max, at the sound of Victoria’s voice. But he pushed past the feeling.

His thoughts were once again running wild - was it a bad sign that Colette wasn’t the one speaking to him? Or was he just overreacting..?

“Hey,” he forced the word out past the lump in his throat. "How are you feeling?" he asked, pleading for Colette's voice. Was it selfish that he just wanted to hear her tell him that everything was going to be okay?

"Better now," Colette's voice came, sounding slightly hoarse.

The words were like a shot of adrenaline, and for a moment, Max actually felt a little lightheaded. “Liefje.” He closed his eyes, just hearing her voice sending another wave of relief through him. “Are you okay? How is Bébé?”

"Bébé has decided that they would rather be born today, so I would suggest you hurry up," Victoria said drily.

"Seems like the kid already inherited Max's need for speed," Charles quipped. "How are you doing, Coco?"

"I'm good," Colette's voice replied, and Max could only imagine the eye-roll that was currently happening. He knew his girlfriend, and he had no doubt that she had been glaring at Victoria ever since the phone was put on speaker.

"Where are you?" she asked, her voice suddenly turning much softer. "You're coming, right?"

"Coming," he assured her, his heart aching. "We're coming, I promise."

"I know. I’m not worried." She sounded like she meant it, but Max could easily imagine the anxiety in her eyes.

"You'd better not worry," Charles said, and then added, "I’m keeping him from doing anything dumb."

Max shot Charles a dirty look at that, bt he swallowed down the annoyed protest and focused back on Colette instead. “Just…hold on a little longer, okay?”

"It's not like I can go anywhere else," Colette replied, her voice slightly amused. "I’ll keep our little speed demon in there a little lo...." She broke off and let out a quiet hiss of pain, her voice once again cut off by what Max suspected to be a particularly painful contraction.

“Colette,” he said sharply, all kinds of emotions washing over him, one by one. “Liefje, just…just breathe through it, okay?”

There was a second of panting, then, he heard her take a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” she finally said. “Just…hurts like hell.”

He swallowed and clenched his free hand tightly into a fist, fighting against the urge to just jump out of the car and start running towards the airport.

Colette being in pain was not something he could deal with.

He heard her take a few more deep breaths, and he just sat there, waiting and listening and feeling absolutely useless.

"How long until you get here?" she asked after a moment, her voice breathless. He could see her in his mind, his sweet girl, sitting on the bed and clutching her belly as another contraction hit her.

"We're not even at the airport yet," he told her, and damn it, why were his eyes suddenly burning. "We’ll get there as soon as we can, okay? Just...hold on a little longer."

"What your dad said..." Colette said with a shaky voice.

"I know," he said simply, the grief raw in his voice. Neither of them were ever really going to get over the two babies they had lost. They had learnt to live with the pain, they had dealt with the heartbreak an grief...but it was always going to be scar for them.

"Max, if something…" she began, her voice a little wobbly. He could tell that she was crying, by the way her breathing got a little more hitched and ragged.

But she suddenly cut off and gasped, letting out an even breath. Another contraction..."Hey, nothing is gonna happen," he quickly said, trying to soothe her. "Nothing. I'll be there soon. I'll be there before you know, and our child will meet their parents. We will be fine, we will get through this. You, and me. Together."

"If something happens," Colette continues. "If..."

"No," he cut her off, the word coming out as a growl. "Nothing is gonna happen. You will not talk that way. You’re going to deliver a gorgeous and healthy baby, and I won’t hear anything else."

"Max..." she protested, but Max wasn’t having it.

"You’re not going anywhere," he said firmly, putting as much steel in his voice as he could. "You will be fine. Our baby will be fine, and I will be there soon and I will hold your hand and you can threaten to geld me and all of it will be okay. Just breathe.” 

He could hear the sound of her breathing, deep and even. She was trying to steady it, and Max gripped his phone tighter. He didn’t know if he was trying to hold himself together, or if he was trying to hold on to the sound of her voice.

The seconds ticked by, and then another contraction hit, and he heard her gasp out another ragged breath. Max felt like he was going to crawl out of his own skin. The idea of her in pain was like an invisible knife twisting a little deeper in his gut, each time.

"We need to go," Charles said suddenly. "We need to get into the plane." The car slowed down at that moment. "Coco, listen to me. I am going to be absolutely fucking furious with you if something happens to you," Charles told her fiercely. 

"Trust me," Colette’s voice said, sounding slightly tired. "I am very, very motivated to stay alive."

That was good. That was a good sign. If she was still being sarcastic and even a little bit cheeky…it was good.

"Just hold on," he told her again, the familiar feeling of helplessness seeping into his bones. "Just keep hanging on, for me. I love you."

“I love you too,” the words were as immediate and as fast as the sunrise each morning. "Hurry up, dammit."

"I’m trying," he replied, his voice hoarse. "I’m trying. We’re at the airport now. We’ll get there as fast as we can-" he had to stop, when he heard her let out another pained gasping sound, as another contraction clearly hit her hard.

“Goddamn,” he exclaimed, all of his muscles tense with the urge to do something. He wanted to help her, he wanted to be there to comfort her…but more than anything,  he was terrified of losing her. "Liefje, just keep breathing, okay? Breathe and stay calm."

"I’m trying to," her voice was breathless, and he knew that she was probably trying hard to fight the urge to cry out. Oh God, he hated that. He hated seeing her in pain, he loathed feeling this utterly useless.

"Go. Love you," she told him.

"I love you," he told her emphatically, wanting to say something more, but then Charles impatiently gestured at him to hurry up and get out of the car. "I...I’ll see you soon, okay? Just hang on, okay?"

"Yeah," he could tell that she was trying even harder to control her voice, trying to put on a calm and steady front for his benefit. "Just..." she cut off and let out a gasp, another contraction evidently hitting her hard. "...just hurry up before this baby decides to make their way out before you arrive, okay?"

"I will," he promised through gritted teeth. "I will, goddammit, I will, just…hang on."

He heard Colette’s pained panting, and each of her breaths was like a stab in the gut.He hated having to hang up on her

Everything in him rebelled at that. How could he, how could he possibly abandon her like that, how could he let her take on this pain and fear all by herself, without him there to hold her hand...but goddamnit, he had no choice.

He took a shuddering breath and pushed past the urge to scream, to slam his fist into something, anything. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, ranging from the desperate need to get to her, to overwhelming panic, to anger at the universe for forcing them apart and for putting her through this pain.

Into the plane they went…it was probably the shortest amount of time between entering a plane and taking off Max had ever experienced. 

Before too long they were up in the air, flying towards Nice.

The minutes ticked by, each one passing by like a century. Max would sit in restless agitation at his seat, his mind racing back and forth. Every thought and memory came back to Colette. He just wanted to be at her side, he just wanted everything to be okay…

And instead he would be stuck on this plane for 6 hours.

He would be stuck on this goddamn plane for six hours. Six hours, each one of them filled with the knowledge that the love of his life was giving birth to their child, and he was not there to support her, to hold her hand and reassure her that everything was okay.

It was driving him absolutely insane. He couldn’t take it, he just wanted to be there, with her. He could vividly picture her, sitting in the hospital bed and gripping the rails, her face screwed up in pain as she fought through another contraction. And he was not there to comfort her.

"Maman is with her. Your sister is with her. Lorenzo and Arthur too." Charles said at that moment. “We aren't there but everybody else is."

"How can you be this calm?" Max asked him, dragging a hand through sweat damp hair.

"Don't mistake calm for not being worried," Charles said evenly, his eyes tracking Max's restless pacing of the plane. "I am worried. For her, for you and for the little one. But freaking out isn't gonna do anyone any favours right now."

"I know,” Max said, his voice still strangled tight with stress. He just couldn't get any of the images out of his mind - her struggling and fighting her way through the pain, looking more vulnerable and pale than he had ever seen her...and he was not there.

“Besides, I shouted at Ferrari’s PR and got it out of my system, so currently, I am feeling quite calm.” Charles said darkly. “I imagine that’s going to change again when I am sure that Colette and the baby are alright.”

Max just stared at him. Charles had done what?

If there was a religion that Charles Leclerc believed in then it was Ferrari.

Charles Leclerc was their golden boy. Their Il Predestinato. There was no good-natured fobbing to be had about Ferrari regardless of what issues there had been had through the years, and there had been a lot.

Charles worshipped Ferrari like a malevolent goddess. He didn’t want to hear any criticism of his team and Max had given up on that a very long time ago. 

Charles and Colette both could be the most stubborn people Max had ever match. The only one who could match their stubbornness were each other. 

"You did what?" Max stared at him, utterly flabbergasted. Charles was an absolute Ferrari fan and loyal to the very core…why the hell would he yell at the PR people?

"Why...? What did they do?"

"They weren't even going to tell me that something was wrong with Colette," Charles said darkly. "I knew it. I knew that something was off. But they didn't say anything. It was one of Red Bull's PR Staff that got me out of the cooldown room. Ferrari wouldn't have said anything to me. Ferrari didn't want me to leave either. They wanted to debrief, they wanted me to give interviews,"

Max had to resist the urge to swear. He had been so focused on the fact that he was not with Colette that he hadn't even processed the fact that Ferrari had actually kept her labour a secret from Charles, simply to make him stay and do his goddamn job for them.

"You know that that is not normal, right?" he asked him drily. "I am not telling you that everything is perfect at Red Bull but Christian would never fucking stand for that."

"You know I never expected it," Charles told him, his mouth a thin hard line. "We are the drivers. We are the stars. But we come second. First and foremost, we are assets to the team. What Ferrari wants, Ferrari gets. We drive, we get podiums, we hold the trophies, and we smile for the cameras. Everything else comes second. It doesn’t matter to them. To them, only the trophies matter. "

"That's what they want," Max told him, anger seeping into his voice. "But that's not how it should be. Ferrari is wrong. If something is wrong with your loved ones, they have no right to keep it from you like that. Especially not for the sake of a goddamn interview."

"I know," Charles said, his lips thin with bitterness. "But there's not much I can do about it, is there? We may be the top drivers on the grid, but we drive the car that the teams give us. There's only so much that we can do when the team has power over pretty much every aspect of our career. And believe me, I am going to pay a fucking price for doing what I did. I just don't care at all. It's Colette," he said sharply. "I love all my siblings. I do. I love Lorenzo and Arthur. I would do everything for them. But they aren't my twin. They aren't the second half of me," Charles said simply. "Ferrari be damned."

Max hadn't thought that he was ever going to hear these words out of Charles' mouth but here they were.

"What the fuck did Jos say by the way? What did Coco mean?" Charles demanded.

"He gave an interview to Sky Sports," Max said, fury still embering deep in his gut.

"Of course he did." Charles said, not sounding surprised at all. "What did he say?"

"Confirmed the relationship...and the pregnancy," Max said clenching his teeth. "And if that wasn't enough...he made a...comment about how it had taken us long enough to have a baby."

There was a sharp indrawn breath as Charles absorbed that. "...What?" Charles said after a moment, his voice strangled. "...he made that comment in public? Are - are you serious?"

"I never told him about the two...miscarriages," Max said quietly. "I couldn't deal with whatever well meant advice he was going to have...but I...We lost two babies," Max said weakly. "My father went out there and confirmed our relationship and the pregnancy without talking to either of us. He just made that decision because it's "ridiculous" that we kept it a secret for so long. An it’s making me furious. This wasn't his decision to make. This was ours."

"Yes," Charles said, his jaw clenching. "It was. Your decision. Nobody else’s. He had absolutely no right to do that. Goddamn it, I have never liked that man, but I've never had the urge to punch him as much as I do this very moment."

"You and me both," Max said. The anger he was feeling would have been burning through him like a damn inferno if he hadn't been so worried about Colette.

"This should have come from us," Max repeated quietly. "Not from anybody else."

"It still can come from you," Charles said.

Max paused, looking up at him. "Are you saying we should..." he began uncertainly.

"You want to tell the entire world that you love my sister and that she is having your baby? You have an Instagram account and a phone with an internet connection," Charles said drily. "Tell them the truth. Your truth."

Max opened his mouth and then closed it again. Charles had a point. It was obvious what the news was going to be now if people had seen Jos's interview.

But he wanted to be the one to tell the world. He wanted it to be on his terms. He wanted it to be public but on his public terms. Not his father's.

"Are you ever going to ask my sister to marry you?" Charles asked him suddenly.

The question caught him completely off guard. "...What?" He said blankly, stunned by the change of the conversation.

"You gave her a ring when you were both 18 that you both insisted was only a promise ring," Charles said drily. "Are you ever going to replace it with the real thing?"

He thought back to that ring that still sat on Colette's finger to this day. A simply gold band with a tiny heart-shaped diamond.

He had given it to her in 2016, after his very first Grand Prix win in Spain. He had gone out and bought it that very same day to be exact.

He had bought Victoira a handbag the first time he had scored his championship points...but the first time he had won...he had bought Colette that ring.

"Apparently the baby is only going to have your surname too, because you have an agreement," Charles continued. "Do I actually want to know what that agreement was?"

"We were 18. Both our father's would have probably killed us, if we came to them and told them that we were engaged," Max said with a sigh. The Leclerc's had always been supportive of their relationship but Hervè Leclerc had very much thought that both Colette and him were far too young to get married. 

Jos on the other hand...Max didn't even want to imagine that screaming fit.  "So I gave her that ring and we agreed that..."

"You agreed that..." Charles repeated slowly, silently urging him to continue.

Max let out a deep sigh and dragged a hand through his already messy hair, mussing it up even more. "We agreed that we didn't really need a piece of paper to tell us what we already knew," he said simply. "Colette and I had been together for 6 years at that point, we already knew and accepted that we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. It was just a matter of when. So we decided that we didn't need a damn piece of paper to know that we were committed to each other. We already knew that, without a doubt," Max said simply. "It was a promise ring. To love and to cherish, till death us do part. One day we would do it properly, but till then...that ring was a promise."

Charles stared at him. "Let me get this straight. You have been married to my sister for 10 years?" he asked him sharply.

Max winced. Okay. Put like that, it sounded kinda bad. "We never had the actual wedding," he said sheepishly. "We both know it wasn't necessary for us, so...we kinda just...never got around to it."

"I mean, I did ask your father for her hand in marriage when it was clear that he wasn't going to be there...when we eventually did it properly...but...for us that ring was… It was more than enough," Max said quietly. "I knew damn well that I would be with her for the rest of my life. She knew it. We both knew it. And that ring was a symbol between us that sealed the deal. We both knew that it was going to be for forever and always. It was a promise. A promise to always stay by each other’s side. No matter how badly things fell apart around us. No matter how much the world wanted to tear us to apart. We were going to stay together, come hell or high water. We didn't need a paper to prove that to us or the rest of the world," Max said firmly.

Charles stared at him for a couple of long moments, processing this. Max was well aware that, from an outside perspective, it might sound weird. That they had been so young, but so utterly certain that they were going to spend their lives together.

But he and Colette had been together for years. And he had seen how strongly they had bonded over the years, seen what they had been able to deal with as a team, as one, and how they had come through every single thing that the life had thrown at them together.

"You two are utterly ridiculous," Charles finally said drily. "You didn't get engaged because as far as you two were concerned you already got married years ago."

Max winced a little bit and couldn't really refute it. If he were to be honest, he'd have admit it did sound utterly ridiculous, when Charles spelled it out like that.

But that just...that was how badly they had known right from the very beginning that this was it for them. They didn't need a piece of paper to tell them what they already knew.

"I'll ask her properly," he promised Charles. "I already got the ring. But Colette doesn't want to overshadow Lorenzo and Charlotte and I knew that she wasn't going to want to have a big party while pregnant so I figured I would just wait."

Charles was slightly taken aback by his words, before he gave a small smile. "She'll definitely say yes, you know," he said, the corner of his eyes crinkling with affection.

Max smiled in return. His heart ached with the thought of her. "I hope so," he said quietly, feeling like there was a hole in his chest where his heart was supposed to be. "I really, really hope so."

[p0orbaby]

Blurb idea - reader is super stressed with work. One day she comes home tense/stressed & Leah gives her a romantic massage

-

The moment you step through the door, it hits Leah like a freight train. Stress clings to you, palpable, a thick haze of tension that seems to emanate from the stiff set of your shoulders and the way your jaw is clenched so tightly it’s a wonder your molars haven’t shattered. You toss your bag onto the kitchen counter without a second glance, missing the coaster she’d strategically placed there just this morning. It skids across the surface, narrowly missing the fruit bowl, which is full but somehow devoid of any fruit you actually like.

“Rough day?” Leah asks, leaning against the doorframe with the casual grace of someone who’s spent the last twenty minutes Googling “how to help a stressed spouse” on her phone. She’s wearing an oversized Arsenal hoodie that used to be yours and joggers with one suspiciously fraying drawstring. It’s her unofficial uniform for “solving domestic crises”

You let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh and run a hand through your hair, which is starting to resemble the kind of frizz you only get when you forget your heat protectant spray. “You could say that”

Leah straightens, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward you. Her socked feet make soft padding sounds against the floor, a detail that somehow grates on your frayed nerves. She places a hand on your shoulder, fingers warm and steady despite the fact that she was holding a Diet Coke can just minutes ago.

“Alright,” she says, voice calm but laced with that signature Leah determination. “Take your shoes off”

“What?” You blink at her, confused, as if she’s just told you to recite the periodic table backwards.

“Your shoes,” she repeats, pointing at your scuffed loafers, the ones you bought because some article convinced you they were ‘business chic.’ “Take them off, and then go upstairs. You’re getting a massage”

“A massage?”

“Yes. A massage. You’ve been walking around like a tension-riddled cryptid for weeks. It’s time”

You open your mouth to argue, but she raises a hand, silencing you with a look that suggests this is non-negotiable. Reluctantly, you kick off your shoes, muttering something about how you’re fine, really, but Leah’s already halfway up the stairs, gesturing for you to follow like some kind of benevolent dictator.

By the time you reach the bedroom, she’s already in full preparation mode. The bedside lamp is on, casting a soft amber glow over the room, and there’s a bottle of massage oil sitting on the nightstand. It’s fancy, of course—something organic and almond-scented that she’d ordered from a wellness boutique you’d initially mocked but now begrudgingly appreciate.

“Lie down,” she commands, patting the duvet like a drill sergeant who’s somehow found themselves in a spa.

You oblige, face-down, the mattress cool against your skin. The duvet smells faintly of the lavender fabric softener Leah insists on using, despite your protests that it’s too floral.

She straddles your lower back with the practised ease of someone who has definitely watched at least two YouTube tutorials on this. Her hands glide over your shoulders, firm but gentle, and the first press of her thumbs against the knots there has you letting out a sound so indecent you’re briefly concerned the neighbours might hear.

“See?” she murmurs, her voice low and soothing. “Told you you needed this”

“You’re annoying,” you mumble into the pillow, but the words lack bite, especially when she kneads a particularly stubborn knot near your shoulder blade.

She works in silence for a while, her fingers tracing lines of tension you hadn’t even realised were there. The room is quiet save for the occasional creak of the bedframe and the faint, rhythmic sound of her breathing. It’s a kind of intimacy you can’t quite put into words, the way her hands seem to know your body better than you do, seeking out every point of stress like she’s memorised a map of you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks eventually, her voice soft but not pushy.

“Not really,” you admit, and she hums in understanding, her hands never faltering.

By the time she’s finished, you feel like a different person—less like a ball of stress masquerading as a human and more like someone who might actually be capable of enjoying life again.

She climbs off you, stretching her arms over her head like she’s just run a marathon. “Well?”

You roll onto your back, blinking up at her. “You missed your calling as a masseuse”

She grins, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Nah. I’d much rather save my talents for you”

[elstattoo]

Closet Fun: Vi x Reader

☆*:.｡.

MEN DNI, MDNI

Summary: A heated game of seven minutes in heaven with Vi.

WC: 3K

Warnings: fingering(r receiving), praise, pet names

Author’s note☆: This is my first time writing for Vi and I went overboard with this idea… lmk what you think and next is pitfighter Vi because I need her internally😋

The smoke from people’s cigarettes and weed made the air thick and heavy. You pushed past the sweaty bodies of ongoing partygoers making your way further into the party. Music roared through the speakers making it impossible to hear yourself think.

Vi was hot on your trail, having no interest in anyone but you at the party. “Fuck I could go for a beer right now.” Vi thought to herself as she followed you like a lost puppy. Her eyes immediately snapped down to your legs and ass when she noticed the view.

A low groan escaped her parted lips as she watched the sway of your hips as you walked. She couldn’t recall you ever wearing something like that to a party, let alone such a short skirt.

The more she stared, the more she felt her boxers lightly dampen, she shook her head slightly trying to snap herself out of the daze. It was hard to shake off your effect on her, she never could even if she tried.

But for both your sakes, Violet kept quiet about her feelings for you. She pursued nothing but a friendship with you, too consumed with the fear of losing you, the one person she cares about the most in the world.

She continued following you into the kitchen, both your eyes scanning the assortment of drinks left to offer.

Violet’s eyes practically sparkled as she saw beer tucked away in a red cooler. “Beer here I come,” Vi muttered, speed-walking over to the counter and grabbing a cold beer out of the open cooler.

A smile spread on your face, “Of course, that’s the first thing you drink. I’m doing vodka and soda,” you shrugged, grabbing an empty clean cup. Easily you poured yourself your drink and took a sip, and the tang of vodka a little too much. The alcohol washed over you, making you feel a little less jittery than before.

Vi let out a little scoff as she watched you pour your drink. “Of course, you’d go for vodka. Me? I’ll stick with the beer.” Her body leaned forward against the counter as you fixed more soda into your drink to lessen the amount of vodka. Her eyes roamed your body quickly again, taking in the way the skirt looked so damn good on you.

You smiled hearing Vi’s little complaints, shaking your head at her. As you mixed your drink to your liking, you caught Vi leaning closely towards you on the counter, beer in hand. “I think I’m ready to see what Jinx, Ekko, and everyone else are up to,” you said. You felt yourself grow hotter the more you felt Vi’s burning gaze.

“Sounds good to me,” Vi agreed with a smile, taking one last swing of the beer before holding it tightly in her hand. “Lead the way, cupcake.”

Your heart swelled a little at the nickname, she always called you different names. Each one makes your heart skip a beat, time and time again. Quickly you made your way towards the living room, the first area you hoped you’d find either Jinx or Ekko. Neither were in sight, you hummed, wondering where either of them could be. Vi reached out and grasped your shoulder.

“I think they’re probably in the next room huddled together smoking or something,” Vi snorted.

You giggled, the sound made Vi freeze for a second as if you two were the only ones in the room. Your laugh was genuine, one that rang throughout the room, and made others smile. Your smile was just one of the many things that made Violet fall so hard for you, not that you knew how you made her heart swell.

“Let me just text her, that's easier,” you said, your free hand already stuffed into your pocket and pulling out your phone.

As best as you could with one hand, you typed out a message to Jinx. It was very difficult, but you managed, too stubborn to hand your drink off to Vi.

You: ‘Where are you?’

Vi turned her head, watching as you put your phone away. “I shot her a text now to await her response, hopefully, it’s fast,” you shrugged, sipping away at your drink.

Violet hummed, “I dunno, sweetheart. My sister is an avid texting but probably wouldn’t be at a party.”

The phone vibrating in your back pocket would say otherwise, and you connected eyes briefly with Vi. A smile made its way onto your face, and swiftly you brought your phone out and read the recent notification. It was from Jinx.

Jinx: ‘Upstairs with a smaller group, meet us losers :P’

“You would be wrong, Violet,” you sneered, “She just answered.”

Violet rolled her eyes dramatically at your teasing tone, “Yeah, yeah whatever, sweetheart. Where are we meeting them?

“Upstairs! Let’s goooo,” you whined, grabbing for her hand after stuffing your phone away. Your hand met Violet’s, her colder hands a stark contrast to your warm ones.

Vi followed you, hand gripping yours as you led the way upstairs. The music drifted with you, people crowded the top of the stairs and chatted away. The pair of you squeezed past more people before reaching a room filled with more people, couches placed about, and a gigantic TV hung mounted on the wall.

You both paused for a moment, taking in your surroundings to look for a sign of Ekko or Jinx. A flash of blue crossed your vision, which had Vi groaning as you tugged her forward.

“Jinx! Over here!” You yelled, trying to raise your voice louder than the booming music throughout the house. Jinx’s head snapped from her conversation with Ekko, towards you, hearing your calls. Ekko himself sees Vi’s pink tufts of hair behind you, and the two of you, hand and hand. Not a surprise at all.

“Hey, you two!” Jinx waves, a grin cheekily on her face. Ekko follows behind her waving at you and Vi. “There’s some people back there playing spin-the-bottle but whoever it lands on goes into a closet for seven minutes and it's locked.” Jinx directed where the people were with the point of her painted fingertip.

Vi let go of your hand, moving from behind you so she can talk to everyone more closely. “Pardon?” Vi quirks an eyebrow, “Seven minutes in heaven and spinning the bottle combined? Alright, fuck it, what do ya say, sweetheart?” Vi’s head turned to you, she licked her lips anticipating your answer. She only would indulge in this silly game if you did.

At the sudden question, you felt yourself grow hot, “Sure! Let’s have fun, what do you guys think?” You ignored the creeping thoughts growing in your head hoping, somehow, that luck would be on your side for once. And… if you played this game, you’d end up, alone, locked in a closet with Vi.

“Hell yeah! I mean, I am the one who told you about it,” Jinx laughed, turning to playfully poke Ekko in the side. He laughed at her, shrugging off her antics.

You all politely asked to join the game, which had the people already playing, clapping, and nodding their heads excitedly. People muttered about restarting the game with the new addition of people, and so a new game began.

“I’m sooo excited,” Jinx whispered, bumping your side as you all watched the people fumble to reset the bottle.

“Wait! Let one of the newbies take a turn,” one guy insisted. His eyes landed on you, “Hey! How about you try it out?”

Your lips parted, not knowing what to say before you nodded. “Yeah, okay,” you breathed, leaning forward to spin the bottle. The time within you spinning the bottle, and then waiting to see who it landed on felt like a lifetime. You felt your stomach doing somersaults, you gulped, seeing the bottle beginning to slow and eventually come to a halt.

The air felt thick, as if time paused at that moment, the bottle stopped and pointed at Vi. A smirk emerged onto her face, your eyes falling from the bottle to her piercing one. Your eyes held contact for mere seconds, the chatter of people drowned out, and you zoned out and only focused on Violet.

Suddenly, you were snapped out of said trance when someone, Ekko, poked your shoulder gently. “Hey, you good?” he murmured, seeing you space out, only mere seconds ago.

You nodded, giving him a thumbs up to reassure him. “Yeah, just surprised. Guess I better go to whatever closet with Vi, at least.”

Ekko smiled, watching you get up as people muttered at you to “hurry up and go.’” Those people were the least of your concerns when you’d be locked in a closet with Vi. The fact it was reality and going to happen had your heart beating wildly out of your chest.

Vi was already standing up, waiting for you and someone to lead you both to the closet. “At least it landed on someone you know, sweets,” Vi added, poking your side. Your head snapped towards her, shooting her a glare.

The girl in front of you, the one leading you to the closet cleared her throat. “Are you guys ready to go now?”

“Yeah, sorry. Let’s go,” you shared a glance with Vi before the two of you followed after the girl. You were brought to a room only a few meters away, the closet tucked in the corner. The girl brought both of you right to the closet door.

“Alright, hurry in, the timer starts when the door closes,” the girl smiled, opening the closet door, and ushering the two of you inside. Vi snuck another glance in your direction, herself still not believing the situation. “Try not to be too loud!” She winked, closing the door, and fiddling with the lock.

The closet was small, the two of you huddled together, trying to sit comfortably within the small space. The darkness of the closet provided another challenge and made it impossible to see or navigate your surroundings.

“Shit, why couldn’t this stupid closet have a light?” Vi mumbled, blinking her eyes to adjust to the darkness. “Where are you even?” Her hand reached out into the darkness feeling for you, her fingertips met your thigh, your breath hitching at the touch. “There you are.”

You could imagine the stupid, cocky smirk on her face saying that. You were on the opposite side of the closet of her, body huddled together, knees against your chest. “Yep, here I am… Weird game for friends to end up in, right?” You joked, the word ‘friend’ making you feel sour.

Vi squeezed her hand against your thigh, the plump flesh squeezing in her firm grasp. You gulped feeling the grip. “Mhm, sweetheart friends are all we are,” she leaned closer, her grip on your thigh still firm. You made no effort to move her hand, which enticed her further and helped prove you did in fact like this. “I think we’re a lot more than friends, and it’s pretty clear at this point. So quit the bullshit and c’mere,” her voice was low and husky.

Her words put you in a trance, you leaned forward, scooting closer to her, to close the distance. Her hand lets go of your thigh, and before you can complain at the loss of contact she cups your cheek and brings your lips in for a fiery, hot kiss. It was messy and filled with passion, you immediately returned the kiss. Almost feeling greedy at how you nipped at her lower lip, gliding your tongue against it, before she eagerly opened her mouth allowing you to overtake her mouth. Your tongues lapping against one another, you moaned softly into Vi’s mouth feeling relieved to finally be kissing her.

Vi noticed your spread legs, allowing her to slot herself between your thighs, and forcing you to twist your legs around her. She mentally noted the time she had left with you, slipping her free hand in between your legs and going oh, so dangerously close to your panties.

Your hands were wrapped around her neck, you pulled away to breathe and felt Vi’s sneaky hand near where you needed her most. “W-what are you doing?” You panted out, still trying to catch your breath from the heated kiss.

“Wanna finger you, right here, right now. Can’t help myself, princess,” Vi admitted, chest rising and falling steadily. If you could see her right now you’d see the way her face was dusted lightly, lips red and blotchy from the kissing.

You whined, gripping the overgrown hair at the back of her head, Vi groaned softly loving the way your feelings felt gripping at her hair. “We can’t do it here..” you said in a hushed voice. You so badly wanted it, but here of all places?

“Please… want to please you, princess,” Vi pleaded, and she kissed your lips. Your panties dampened even more and you felt yourself let go, giving in to her frantic kisses.

You pulled back for a second, nodding, “Please… do it before they come.”

When those words left your mouth that was all Vi needed before she moved her hand to where you needed her. Her fingers moved your thong to the side, sliding two into your wet, aching hole. She cut off the loud moan that almost escaped your lips with her lips sealed against yours, you eagerly returned the passionate kiss.

Vi curled her fingers slightly, angling to get deeper inside of you, and hit the spot that felt so good. You needily swiped your tongue against Vi’s, the two of you exchanging saliva in between the messy kisses. Vi pumped her fingers faster, groaning at the wetness pooling around her sleek fingers.

The two of you only had a few minutes left, Violet pulled back. Hurriedly pumping her fingers deeper, before she stilled for a moment to slide a third one in. Feeling her insert the third finger, then pumping them in and out of you, curling to hit your g-spot, had you craning your head into her neck. You muffled the cry of pleasure, hands still gripping her pink hair, and Vi loved it.

The sounds you were making, the muffled sounds of the music playing outside the closet door were long forgotten to her by the smacking of her fingers drilling in and out of you. Along with your wetness squealing in the small space of the closet. She fucking loved it.

“God, pretty girl… you’re so wet just from kissing and my fingers? Gotta get you home after this,” she sighed, smirking to herself at the ideas popping in her head.

“Please, Vi only have a few minutes left and I’m close,” you mewled against her.

“Yeah? We gotta hurry then, pretty girl,” she pumped her fingers faster, if possible, her fingers hitting your g-spot over and over until you felt your stomach clench up, your vision went white, and you swear you heard yourself whine loudly like never before. Surely, the sound alerted people outside the room, but who the fuck cares? With how your muscles spasmed and clenched as the waves of the moment overtook you.

“O-oh my god,” you gasped, clutching onto her shoulders, pretty painted nails digging in as you tried to roll your hips into her hand to ride out the intensity of your orgasm. Vi softly kissed your neck, leaving small marks along your neck as you clung to her.

“Holy fuck, you just came all over my fingers,” Vi uttered with her fingers still curled tightly inside of your cunt. You whined at the sensitivity from your previous orgasm, Vi begrudgingly took her fingers out of you understanding you were sensitive. Her digits were coated in your slick cum, she brought her fingers to her mouth and moaned at the sweet taste of you. She cleaned the mess away off her fingers before pecking your lips. “You feel alright?”

Your chest swelled, your body still recovering from the post-orgasm. “Yeah, that was… Fucking amazing, Vi,” you smiled, your fingers coming up to cup her cheek and passing over the small tattoo under her eye. The one that marked her name… Vi. Your Vi, the one that you love.

Before either of you could say anything else, there was a knock on the door. “Time’s up, lovebirds!” You hurriedly pulled away from each other, you fixed your skirt, smoothing the material as Vi wiped her mouth and fixed her wrinkled clothes.

The door opened, Jinx being the one to open the door this time. She saw your appearance, both your lips red and swollen from the kisses. She smirked and wiggled her eyebrows, “You guys finally confessed and… did a lot more than that!”

You dashed up and playfully smacked her side, your face feeling hot. “Please shut up! And keep it down,” you pleaded. Embarrassment rushed over you, but Vi got up and coddled your side.

“It’s fine, pretty girl. Nothing to be ashamed of,” she shrugged. She acted as if her sister wasn’t right there and didn’t quickly infer what the two of you did. It also didn’t help that she confidently wrapped her arm around you, a smirk adorning her face as she pushed past Jinx and walked out of the room with you.

You were left speechless even when she led you out of the party and to her car.

“Wanna come back to my place or yours?” She whispered, eyes gazing into yours from the driver’s seat.

“Mine,” you grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Please, I want you all to myself.”

Vi hummed, starting the car and nodding. “I know, pretty girl and you will, I promise,” she squeezed your hand in reassurance. “Wanted you… long before this.” Vi never thought she would admit it, but now she could care less knowing you both felt the same. She brought your hand up and kissed it.

Your heart swelled, your hand felt warm and clammy, and you almost felt like you were floating. “Me too, Vi,” you whispered. She put her hand back in yours and drove the two of you back to your closer apartment.

The two of you did a lot more than fingering for the rest of the night.

—

Author’s note: I hope you guys enjoyed… please spare me

[sweetpupii]

tw: non-con, somno, fingering & cunnilingus ( r!receiving ), reader cries just a little, praising, overstimulation, abby being the sweetest girl ever ( pretty ironic ) | 1.6k words.

having long nails is great.

they look cute, you can match them with your outfit and your makeup, you get some compliments, they're amazing at scratching and all that.

“wanna know what's frustrating though?” you start, mindlessly scrolling on your phone while abby looks at your new set of nails, her own unmanicured hand holding yours. “not to be, you know, nasty but I feel like I'm gonna slash my pussy open if I try to stick a finger in there the wrong way.”

only a low hum of agreement can be heard from the blonde as she leans back against the couch of your shared apartment, tracing the design that's beautifully decorating the nail on your middle finger. yeah, that looks like it would hurt real bad.

“then get a toy. there is more stuff you can use.”

“of course I know that, but I don't have time either. at this point I feel like a nun!” a ( kinda whiny ) sigh escaping your lips at the mere thought of all the weeks spent unsatisfied. coming home late and tired didn't give you much time to even grab a toy like abby suggested.

but luckily, you have a very thoughtful roommate!

this woman would do anything—and I mean anything—to see you happy because that's what friends are for. helping and supporting each other during tough times and, let me tell you, being sexually frustrated definitely counts as one.

“abby? what the fu—mhggm” her hand quickly went over your mouth to stop your protests to get louder and more panicked while the other worked to keep your legs and arms from pushing her face away. why are you acting so surprised to see her in between your legs when she's just trying to help? it's not like you would be able to push her away but jeez, didn't expect such an ungrateful response.

yes, she woke you up by making out with your pussy but you were basically asking for it earlier.

“gonna make you feel good.” she promised before she kept lapping at your cunt like a starved woman. slurping you up like you're her favorite dish. feeling the vibration of your desperate, muffled sounds against her palm made her speak again. “shh, I won't hurt you.”

taking off your underwear while you sleep, holding you down, forcing your mouth shut and your legs open doesn't hurt! not if you stay still, at least.

her plan was simple.

if she made you feel good by eating you out, using her own fingers to reach places you currently couldn't ( and probably have never been able to ) reach while you slept then you would surely wake up in a good mood and thank her with that precious smile of yours and maybe even a kiss.

but noooo, you decided to wake up in the middle of it and panic. ugh, just when your body was responding so well to her touch. she had seen the way your cunt was glistening when she started to slowly kiss it. the moonlight slipping through your curtains making the sight even prettier, and she'll be lying if she said the thought of taking a picture didn't cross her mind.

but a little crying from you won't stop her, even if she feels the hot tears against her skin.

she's still holding your legs open so she can continue to suck and lick at your clit, tongue tracing each fold and sensitive bit. your hips bucking into her face—but she's not sure if you're liking it and want more or you're trying to push her away.

“don't scream, okay baby?” she whispered against the soft skin on your inner thigh, peppering small kisses, while looking up at your watery eyes, “I'll be so gentle. trust me.”

actually, what other choice do you have? this woman can literally bench press 205 lbs. you get on her bad side and a single smack takes you back to your mother's womb. she has a mean right hook too, those punching bags stand no chance.

but again, it's abby who we're talking about.

the blondie that cuddles you to sleep anytime your bed feels too cold, who makes stupid jokes to cheer you up even if she cringes so fucking hard immediately after, who lets you try to count every freckle on her skin without even asking why, who can listen to you talk for hours and pay attention to every word, the one that drunkenly tells you how glad she is that you're her roommate and friend while kissing your shoulder even if deep down she wishes for more than that and stares at you as if you are the most important thing in the world—because to her you truly are.

so maybe she really just wants to make you feel good...

the second the fear and confusion in your eyes turns into something more calm, seeing the slow nod of your head, the small hiccup and your legs no longer struggling, she pulls her hand away from your mouth to trace the other set of lips, gathering the mixture of her saliva and your fluids on her fingertips before gently pushing one inside. “there we go…nice and slow.”

she might've been wrong for not asking first but how was she supposed to resist the feeling of your warm, tight walls squeezing her fingers just right as she curls them inside. soaking her knuckles in a shiny coat of stickiness that makes her want to dive in face first again and taste it until it becomes the only flavor she'll ever remember.

once she's sure that you're wet and comfortable enough, another thick digit slides in, the stretch earning a moan from you that has abby feeling like angels are singing and welcoming her to heaven. god, she has waited for so long to hear those sounds out of your lips—sounds caused by her, not your vibrator nor whoever you used to invite over thinking you two were quiet. ( she could hear you every.single.time… and honestly? it was so good to get a free show. )

even if her pace was somewhat slow, the thrusts of her fingers still managed to produce soft, wet noises that filled the room as they combined with your heavy breathing.

“told you I'd be gentle.” she cooed against your abdomen, trailing her kisses up your torso until she finally reached your lips. the same lips she has been dreaming of kissing since she moved in, since she first saw you smile, since you finally laughed at something she said, since the first time she saw them in a pretty shade of lipgloss. it's better than she ever imagined and she knows she'll ask ( beg ) for more from now on.

she's head over heels if you couldn't tell already.

“a warning would've been nice.” your quiet words bring a sheepish smile to abby’s face as she sighs, pulling her face away just a little, “sorry, you looked so stressed lately, I figured you wouldn't mind…”

abby aims to please even if she doesn't realize how bad her impulsive thoughts are before she acts on them. but look at the bright side; from now on you have a girl who's willing to drop to her knees and bury her face between your thighs at your own home almost 24/7!

after a bit, she starts to notice that the clenching and throbbing around her fingers gets more frequent and your moans louder, meaning she can finally speed up the pace. burying herself deep into your cunt to reach all the perfect spots she knows you've been missing. “fuck, you're so pretty. I wish you could see yourself…dripping all over the bed.”

she’s breathless as if she was the one getting touched, her own underwear damp just from seeing and pleasing you. can you blame her? she feels like a child on christmas morning.

“that's it, doing so good.”

oh, how she adores the way your hips tremble underneath her. making a mess on your bed sheets as you throw your head back—which she takes as an invitation and buries her face there. inhaling your scent like it's the only thing keeping her alive, like you're the oxygen she needs.

“gonna come? I can barely move my fingers with how tight you are.” liar. no matter how much you squeeze she's pumping them in and out without a single bit of effort. working out daily really pays off in the most satisfying ways. plus, you're too wet and it slides in and out very easily.

and god, her words make the flutter in your lower belly even worse. your hand gripping at her forearm, nails digging so hard she takes it as “it's too much.” when in reality she had fucked you so dumb with her fingers that reaching for abby was purely out of instinct.

she can't even understand the words ( babbles ) coming out of your mouth, all her pussy-drunk mind is able to register is the whiny tone tone in your voice because yes, she's as fucked out as you are.

the loud cry that escaped your puffy lips while repeating her name over and over definitely woke up a neighbor or two and just the thought of it makes abby's ego go up to the roof. who's making the prettiest girl in the building come? abigail motherfucking anderson.

her fingers continue their movements, a bit sloppier than before, but they keep going nonetheless. thumb circling your sensitive clit to add more stimulation.

she shushed your whimpers with soft kisses on your your temple and held you still to keep the overstimulated jerking off hips from pushing her away.

“you can take a little more, you're a big girl.”

and she's an insatiable woman.

masterlist ♡ taglist — @1ckyporcelainbunny @patronagrona

[obxsummer]

mess // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: groff gets grounded, sarah's wifey material, and a statue apparently holds the blue crown, which means someone's climbing to get it.

warnings: usual obx angst

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything

--

Morocco was proving to stay a challenge to you all, especially when the vehicle’s motor blew up on Cleo and the poor girl was stuck attempting to fix it. In the meantime, Pope was observing the items John B and Sarah had managed to pull from Terrance’s boat in their quick mission. 

While JJ attempted to help Cleo get the truck started again, John B and Sarah were browsing at nearby booths. This left you and Kie to take the time to chill out and just observe the people around you. 

What your fiancé had begrudgingly revealed to you, was he pickpocketed the gun the mercenary had dropped and it was now tucked in his waistband, clearly visible against the light colored fabric. You had rolled your eyes, but didn’t bother to argue with him. You were all unarmed, in his defense, so it wouldn’t hurt to have some way to fight back.

“John B, I’m tired of driving. Take the wheel.” Cleo waved dismissively as she climbed into a seat next to Sarah, allowing your brother and Pope to take the front.. 

The next location, Agapenta, was supposedly where you’d find some answers. The drive would take a while, a lovely 60 miles of hopefully peace and quiet. JJ happily accepted the empty time, letting you rest against his shoulder as the wind whipped around you all. The ride was as smooth as John B could make it, the road proving itself bumpty and full of twists and turns. 

Eventually, pavement turned into dirt and Pope was pointing out a nearby well to refill water bottles and take a break to stretch. You groaned as the vehicle came to a stop and climbed out, your legs sore from sitting so scrunched together for the time being. 

“Pope, I really hope you’re right about this well,” John B said as he rolled his neck, a popping sound following the movement and he sighed. 

JJ reached up to help you climb down, the dirt hard and dry beneath your feet. You opened your backpack, shuffling through the mess to grab the empty water bottles you’d brought from Poguelandia to pair with the larger ones they’d bought at the market. 

“How does this thing even work?” You asked Pope as you walked toward the well with the various bottles in your arms. “Like is there a pump or-”

“Hello!”

Pope grabbed your arm to pull you back from approaching the stones. The shouting continued in a language you couldn’t quite recognize before you all decided to look down the well at the same time. 

“I guess we found Groff, huh?”

Bile burned your throat as you took a step back from the dark pit in the ground. JJ was standing a few feet away with a tan back in his hands, the contents inside likely belonging to the man stuck at the bottom of the well.

You wondered how he didn’t die from the fall, silently pissed that outside forces couldn’t have just ended this nightmare on your behalf. Because now, there was a decision to make that ultimately landed in JJ’s hands.

JJ gently squeezed your shoulder as he approached the well, a silent communication that he could do it. He looked utterly pissed and disappointed with the realization that he was really the only one to handle the situation, but leaned over the edge to address Groff.

“JJ, is that you?” The voice echoed back.

JJ sighed and looked straight ahead, completely dismissing the man in the well. “What happened?”

“I’m trapped down here because of that… Rafe.”

You snorted, pressing the back of your hand against your mouth to keep your laughter in as Sarah nearly broke her character next to you with a laugh. Leave it to Rafe to shove Groff in a literal well. 

“But now, my boy, my beautiful boy, is here to rescue me.”

That one got a full giggle out of Kiara, and JJ looked at all of you with an unamused look. Annoyance was winning its course here, and really, now you wanted to leave.

“What happened to the scroll?” JJ asked as he played with the flask of water in his hands. 

“Rafe! He took it and he tried to kill me, but I know where it is. I know how to get it back. We’ll go. We’ll go together, just… just throw me the rope!”

The blond boy stepped back from the view of the well, which evidently scared Groff enough that he started yelling again. You stepped away from Sarah and Kie to grab his arm, scanning his face for any hint of how he was feeling.

“You okay?”

To your surprise, JJ’s eyes were full of tears when he looked back at you and he looked angry. “He almost killed you. And now he’s sitting here asking me to help him?” 

The broken whisper felt like a punch to the chest and your fingers unconsciously brushed over where the bruises rested on your skin. You’d support JJ through a lot of rights and wrongs, but this had to be the hardest one. 

You’d come to hate very few people in your life, but Groff was the quickest one to reach that status. He was cruel. There were very few people that were wicked in that way, deep to their core, but he was a perfect example of one. Heartless, even.

JJ sighed, drying away stray tears with the back of his hand. You let your hand coast up his arm to rest on his neck, gently brushing the skin of his cheek with your thumb. “It’s okay. It’s your call.”

He shook his head harshly and stepped out of your grasp to approach the well again as Groff yelled out for him to toss the rope down. JJ picked up the twine with consideration and your heart felt like it was in your throat. 

“JJ, I need you to throw me the rope!”

“Why?” JJ countered as he stared at the object intently. “Why should I do that when you tried to kill not only me, but someone you knew meant the world to me? To us.”

There was a pause before the answer. “I snapped. Sorry.”

John B let out a loud laugh at that one, his head falling back against the seat of the truck before his hand rubbed at his face in disbelief.

“Just get me out of here, JJ, and we will get the crown. Together, just like we planned.”

“You gave me away. You gave me away because you don’t want me. You don’t want a son. Now you come back into my life acting like you had to do that.” 

“No of course not. You’re my boy, I love you.”

JJ reached back with an open palm and you took it wordlessly, making sure to stay out of Groff’s view but close enough that JJ knew you were right behind him. “No.. don’t, don’t say that. You don’t know what that means. You don’t even know me. You never were my father. You never even tried.”

“I’m a weak man, JJ. You wouldn’t kill me for that, would you? That’s not you. You’re better than me.”

JJ scoffed and shook his head before holding the rope out to you, which you took albeit confused. You watched as he untied it from the post next to the well, leaving it disconnected from any anchor point. “Being better than you really isn’t that hard. Bye, Dad.”

Without sparing a glance, JJ took a step back from the well to walk away and you stood there as Groff started yelling in protest for him to come back. You glanced back to make sure he was okay, Pope taking the time to hug him tightly, before you made your own decision.

Peeking over the edge of the well, you could barely make out Groff’s figure at the bottom and his voice was suddenly much louder until he stopped at the sight of you.

“Remember me? Daughter you never had but always wanted?” You asked, a teasing smirk making its way to your lips. Pulling the rope closer, you let it fall from your fingers and watched the saving grace hit the ground with a loud smack as Groff winced. 

With a look of disappointment, you sighed to yourself, “You made your bed, now you can lie in it too.”

--

“Careful, we don’t know what we’re walking into.” John B was tense and on guard as he led the group from the car when the path came to an end. Desert stretched out in front of you all, save for a few bare plants that shifted with the wind.

As you all approached the walled entrance to Agapenta, Rafe’s voice carried across the open land. 

“Okay, just take it easy, okay?” The stress in his tone was obvious enough that JJ was pushing against your shoulder to keep you out of view as they surveyed whatever was going on ahead. 

Peeking through the brush, you made out Rafe’s figure with the map dangling from one hand and the lens from the other. His back was toward you all as he spoke with whoever was threatening him as he held his arms in the air. There was just enough room over the makeshift wall that you could make out the mercenary group with their vehicles and weapons.

“They’re gonna kill him,” Cleo mumbled as a few armed mercenaries started approaching Rafe.

Kie scoffed, “Do we care?”

“Yeah, that’s a good question, Pope. Then they’d take the scroll.”

You glanced over at Sarah, the girl obviously torn between the words being said and the fact that Rafe was her brother. He was trying, she could tell, and at this point, that meant enough to her. 

“There are seven of them, they all have rifles.”

JJ’s hand fell from your shoulders. “I know. That’s why we’re gonna need to think outside the box.”

He moved to grab the gun from his waist, checking the bullets in the chamber before loading it. You swallowed thickly, knowing anything that involved JJ and a weapon didn’t tend to go well. 

“Hey.” You grabbed his arm to hold him still for a moment. “This isn’t Call of Duty, okay? We can’t rush into action right now without thinking this through a little.”

Sarah had evidently thought it through enough and grabbed the gun from JJ’s hand to steady in her own grip, the group falling silent as she did so. “That’s my brother.”

The shot rang out, perfectly nailing the fuel tank on one of the mercenary vehicles to cause an explosion. You stared, amazed, before looking at the girl next to you. “Sarah gets the gun from here on out.”

Rafe took off running as more gunshots started to follow and you decided it was probably a good idea to get away from here. Dust kicked up around everyone as you ran, shouts to go faster or change direction coming like rapid fire. 

The sunshine was so warm against your skin and dust coated your throat as you all came up upon the gates with barely enough time to slip through before Pope and JJ slammed the door shut just in time for gunshots to bust through the wood.

“We gotta move,” Kie called out as the boys barricaded the door as best as possible. Somewhere in the chaos, Rafe had managed to land here as well and brought up the rear as the group went running again. 

“Oh shit!” You yelped as a group of sheep were suddenly in the path. They were just as freaked out as you and took off running, giving you enough time to take a deep breath before JJ was grabbing your arm and pulling you to keep moving. 

An almost stumble in his step told you his side was getting irritated from the constant movement and you shifted to push him ahead of you, your hand pressed into his back to keep him going. You came up on a tunnel, Pope and Cleo coming to a stop as the yelling got closer to your location. 

“What are you doing?” JJ slowed to look at the couple, the gun now in Cleo’s hands as John B, Sarah, Kie, and Rafe kept moving.

“We got it, we’ll hold them off,” Pope explained, his hand falling on your back to continue moving you and JJ along. JJ hesitated, hating the idea of splitting up but Pope had already made up his mind. “Hey, let me protect you for once, okay? You’re not the only one who shot teddy bears.”

Cleo gave you a stern look and nudged you in the direction. You gave her an uncertain smile, squeezing her arm in encouragement before you grabbed JJ’s hand in yours and pulled him with you. “Be safe!”

“We’ll be so safe!” Pope called back as they disappeared from view. 

Your chest was heaving, sweat pouring across your skin as the tunnels and stairs weaved their way through the town. Before long, you guys managed to catch up to the others where Rafe so lovingly had John B at knifepoint. 

“What the hell is going on?” You gasped, your hand pressing against your chest where it hurt to breathe as Kiara put her focus on JJ’s now bleeding side. You slid your backpack off, handing it to her wordlessly as she began to sort through the first aid supplied lying within. 

“Rafe, I just saved your life!”

The elder Cameron sibling turned toward her, the knife following as he disagreed. “No, no, no, no, no. You did it so you could steal it from me. There was something in it for you. Not to actually help me, I know that.”

“Rafe, we don’t have time.”

“We can read that, you can’t,” Sarah argued back, completely unphased by the way he was shaking in front of her.

“Why would I help you? I don’t trust you. I don’t trust any of you, do you understand?” He panted, scanning the room where you all had him basically surrounded. He focused back on Sarah, taking a step closer. “Dad trusted you. You remember what happened to him? Remember?!”

You flinched as he yelled, taking a step back in shock as Sarah pushed Rafe away from her. 

“Dad died saving my life,” She shouted before taking a second to breathe. “And you’re so eager to blame me for everything, you won’t even listen to what happened. Singh’s men had me at gunpoint. I was gonna die. Dad took those bullets for me. And if he was still around, he’d want us to work together. I know you know that.”

Rafe’s angry exterior was dropping with each word and as Sarah’s face crumbled with the recount, he was slowly beginning to think he had it all wrong. Shaking his head, his defensive stance disappeared. “No, you’re just going to screw me like everyone else in my life. I know you will.”

“No, no, because I’m all you’ve got,” Sarah reminded him, her voice thick with tears. “And you’re the only family I have left.”

The two siblings stared at each other for a moment, shaking breaths coming from each of them as they spoke through the things that had been left unsaid for almost two years now. You’d never seen Rafe like this, so broken and confused by what he was hearing. 

For so long, Ward had such a deathly grip on Sarah and Rafe both. Rafe had received the brunt of the pressure, as the eldest child and male of the family, Ward used him instead of growing him in a way that a parent should. 

“Alright, if we…uh, if we work together, I still get my cut. So-”

Sarah pushed the scroll aside and fell into her brother’s chest with a sob, her hands wrapping around him tightly. Rafe’s eyes filled with tears at the action, his own arms hesitating before holding her back as the two of them cried together.

Yelling nearby broke apart the peaceful moment, just as Kiara finished rewrapping JJ’s side with fresh bandages after cleaning the skin. She zipped your backpack before returning it, her eyes glancing to where the yelling is coming from. “I hate to break this up, but we need to go.”

John B was quick to get Sarah back to his side, taking her hand protectively as the group shifted out of the room to keep moving. You stayed back with JJ, moving just a bit slower to keep his side from reopening and letting the others gain some lead on you.

“You okay?” You asked as he winced and pressed his hand where the wound was. 

He nodded, letting out a breath. “Just moving a lot. I don’t think fighting the waves was the best idea for it, yeah?”

You shook your head at him, eyes glancing over before you caught sight of a large, dark storm cloud on the horizon. “J? What’s that?”

He looked up and followed your gaze to where the impending issue lied. “Oh fuck. We gotta go.”

Not asking any further questions, you continued up the hill with him until you caught sight of John B, Sarah, Kie, and Rafe. Your brother was holding the map up to the sky, a shaped figure coming back in the reflection of the paper that looked nearly identical to the statue that was up ahead. 

“Crown’s gotta be up there. Come on, let’s go.”

--

a/n: hi i'm so sorry this is short and took forever, just wanted to give a lil something before we get to the next scene

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything

[fushiguruuzzzz]

+ CHAPTER TWELVE // LIKE SOMEONE IN LOVE 

series mlist 

Tags — reader believes she isn’t fit for love lol, short chapter again, can you tell I’m sick of writing this series, no smau  Words — 0.7k 

Deep in your soul, you always knew something about you was… wrong.

From the moment you were old enough to look in the mirror and see the hollowness of what stared back, you made a promise to cover it up. You smiled at people in the street, bounced around in your pretty pink skirts and your Mary Jane’s, desperate to fill that gaping hole inside by overflowing it with honey. You told everyone that your favourite holiday was Valentine’s Day, you scribbled messy hearts into the empty space in your worksheets, even when you felt as if you lacked one of your own. 

Some might say you were the love you yearned for, but nobody had any idea how difficult love came to you. It barely came at all. 

Your head whipped around just a little too fast to be casual when a voice broke through the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. 

“You okay?” 

Toge’s voice was gentle, not pushy, but like a humble offering of a chance to respond. He tried to sound casual because he knew he didn’t have much of a right to question you, not after your recent misunderstanding, but the furrow in his brows told you enough. Toge always cared, maybe even too much. He cared about everyone, but he always had a special sort of concern for you. Why? He couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but it surely had to do with the warmth in his chest every time you were near. 

You nodded. “Mhm.. yeah, sorry. I just zoned out.” 

He mirrored your action, though unconvinced. It gnawed at him inside, every passing second a chance for the grimness to consume him. He turned his gaze back to the movie in front of you, trying to pay at least an ounce of attention to the plot, but your inner monologue radiated from you and loomed over him like a shadow. 

He glanced at you again, suddenly feeling nervous. His hands twitched and ached to reach out to you, but he had to hold them back. Not yet. He wasn’t deserving of that yet. He still had to win back your trust, to crack away at the boulder chained to him by the ankle. Even if you forgave him, the impact of his foolishness wasn’t nearly as merciful. It lingered, whispering recounts of that night into his ear when he least expected it. 

Your eyes caught on the fidgeting of his hands. Toge wasn’t all that hard to read, not once you got close enough. That flicker in his violet eyes was clear as day, may as well have been loud as a firework. 

Your fingers crawled over the space between you, inching closer. They slipped into his, slotting in like this was nothing other than a reunion of two halves. He glanced to you, shoulders easing just barely. He let out a breath, and he looked back at the screen. 

Your hand was squeezed reassuringly in his, just a silent reminder of his presence. It made your pulse quicken, your heart race faster than sound itself. It was a reminder that you had one at all. 

Love never came easily to you, but Toge was more than a four letter word, more than the butterflies in your stomach and giddiness that pulled at your lips. He flowed into your heart like the smooth breeze of a summer night, seeing the fragile girl before him and inviting her in anyway. 

He looked at you again, a shaky breath leaving him as he braced himself for an impact that had already came and went. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know technically…” 

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. “I know you’re sorry. I forgive you. You don’t have to do any grand gestures, just… just stay with me for now.” 

Just stay. Just prove you’re here to do so, prove you aren’t the fleeting memory of a night at the bar. Prove you’re more than one love song. 

You caught a glimpse of his eyes before you pulled away in cowardice, but the soft, compliant twinkle in his eyes was burned into your mind. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’ll stay.” 

The end is near and I’m sorry it’s been so shitty lately, I’ve been sick and unmotivated and just trying to get this series over with <\3

I’ve given up can you tell I’m sorry to the people that like this series because I DONT … lol I appreciate the love and support so much obviously I love u all so bad, that’s why I’m so sorry like actually

Taglist — closed 50/50

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[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Shenhe, Clorinde, Dehya and Noelle with S/N hugging them tightly.

(Genshin Impact) Shenhe, Clorinde, Dehya, Noelle, and Chiori's S/O hugging them tightly

Strong women...

Shenhe's whole body eases up the moment S/O's arms wrap around her, with them squeezing her as tightly as they can.

Her heart feels calm, yet its rapidly beating with S/O being this close to her.

Strange, yes, but far from unpleasant.

(Shenhe) "S/O?"

(S/O) "You don't mind me staying like this for a little bit, do you?"

(Shenhe) "I don't."

Shenhe returns the embrace by holding S/O closer.

Though of course she doesn't use her all her strength despite the fact she wants to return as much loving attention.

Because doing so would cause S/O's spine to bend at a 90 degree angle all of a sudden.

Clorinde goes stiff for a moment before exhaling, a small smile forming on her lips alongside a blush.

(Clorinde) "I take it you have missed me?"

(S/O) "Mmm...maybe just a little."

Their teasing tone betrayed their thoughts, as if the pressure around her stomach wasn't any indication either.

But Clorinde had no objection, doubly so since they were in private.

She leans back into their hold, a soft chuckle escaping her.

(Clorinde) "Then I am all yours for the night, S/O."

One hand reaches upward to their arm, gently holding their waist as she takes a deep breath, now fully relaxing.

And with one last gesture before sitting next to them, Clorinde kisses the top of their fingers, holding their hand as if it were made of glass.

Dehya is slightly startled but it doesn't take her long to immediately turn around and give a fierce hug back.

Her laughter was loud, quickly joined in by S/O.

(Dehya) "S/O! Geez, could've said hi first!"

(S/O) "Where's the fun in that?"

With a cheeky smile, Dehya lifts S/O off the ground as she gives them an even tighter hug than the one they were giving her.

S/O's breath hitched for a moment as it was almost crushed out of them, but Dehya put them back on the ground, her arms crossing in front of her chest.

(Dehya) "Dinner on me? Just got paid a nice amount too!"

(S/O) "Sure, you gotta tell me what happened out there!"

Her smile gets even bigger as S/O walks beside her, Dehya's arm immediately seeking S/O's and wrapping it tightly around them.

(Dehya) "Alright, let's see...-"

Noelle doesn't even physically budge when S/O suddenly hugs her, but she does yelp in surprise.

(Noelle) "HUH?!...Oh, S/O! Jeez, you scared the daylights out of me!"

(S/O) "Hah, sorry, sorry!"

Noelle blushes madly as she reciprocates their hug, her head resting on their shoulder as she did so.

Unfortunately for S/O, she used her full strength and they heard a few of their bones pop from their spine.

Whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen, but they could still feel the pain and could stand upright, so that was at least a good sign!

After being dazed by her affection, S/O smiles at Noelle as she did the same.

(Noelle) "Did you need me for something?"

(S/O) "I got us a table for dinner ready, and wanted to see if you were off yet!...Might also need a healer."

(Noelle) "Oh! Yes, I am nearly finished! I will have this mess sorted out in no time but...what was that last part?"

(S/O) COUGH! "A-Ah, nothing!"

Chiori raises an eyebrow but doesn't really blush or budge, instead an arm softly reaches out to their wrists, gently shoving them upwards to give her more breathing space.

(Chiori) "What's with the sudden hug?"

(S/O) "Am I not allowed to show love to my beautiful girlfriend?"

She hummed in acknowledgement, finishing the sketch on a new design.

(Chiori) "Preferably not when she needs steady hands to draw something-."

(S/O) "I can hold you and be still at the same time!"

(Chiori) "Is that right?"

Despite her tone, there is no real malice in it, even as she sighs aloud.

(Chiori) "Alright, just don't squirm too much, alright?"

If S/O could squint, there's the slightest hint of a blush on her face.

Though S/O didn't need to that to tell them she was comfortable.

The way her shoulders slumped and she subtly shifted closer to them, head leaning back onto S/O for support:

That physical shift was what made S/O happy.

And of course, Chiori too.

...As long as they didn't intentionally mess with her as she was trying to come up with something for work.

[madamspellmans-met-tet]

🍷Illicit Affairs🍷┃ Ch. 3

Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

wc: ~ 3.2 k

summary: Lilia has a stressful day at work and wants nothing more than to enjoy a hot bubble bath—but she is interrupted.

*******************************************

All of Lilia’s pants had been in the washing this morning, leaving her with no other choice but to wear a pencil skirt that she didn’t dare bend over in for fear it might rip. The new concierge had been paying her enough attention today without the need for a spectacle. Who was she kidding? She would’ve laughed her pretty ass off if it would’ve happened. 

She drove home through the dense autumn fog after her shift and nearly ran into an unfortunately positioned trash can, but after a day of yelling at people to get their shit together because the hotel inspectors were bound to show up any day now as they did every year, she didn’t have an ounce of energy left to work herself up about it. Her scalp ached from a day of wearing her hair tightly pinned up, even now that she’d tugged it loose. 

In her driveway, she left the car without her parka but regretted it as soon as she'd stepped out. She was plucking the house keys from her bag when the front door opened. Alice came out with her hair curled and a tinge of scarlet on her lips that matched the ends of her fringe—a highly unusual sight. 

"Mh, where are you going?" Lilia sang. 

"Just Stephen's."

"Stephen." She weighed the name on her tongue. "He has a name. So it's serious."

"Well, we've had a few nice dates, and he's—he's a good guy, mamma, I promise. Even mom said so, and she—"

The house key dug into her palm as she clenched her fist around it. "Lorna has met him?"

“He was in the area, and—and you don’t like men.”

She huffed, blinking the ache away, swallowing, and nodded. While she might not have the same interest in men that Lorna did, she would have hoped Alice knew she would never mock her for dating one. Didn't she know that she loved her no matter what?

Alice sighed, a breath heavy with guilt. “Are you mad, mamma?”

“No.” She stepped closer and fixed Alice's lipstick with the edge of her red nail, holding her face between thumb and index finger. The smile didn't reach her eyes. “Just sad.”

Alice pulled her into a hug and squeezed tight, squishing her cheek against Lilia's as she'd done since she was a little girl. Lilia put her hand on the back of her head and felt the hurt in her chest melt away. Even when she drew away, Alice kept her arms looped around her neck, and Lilia put her hands on them, rubbing her thumbs in crescents. "You look beautiful, piccinia. Bellissima."

"Thanks." Alice smiled and let go of her. "I'm off now." She kissed Lilia's cheek. "Don't wait up for me."

She set about to leave, but Lilia stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Wait. Have you heard from my docezza? She left so suddenly after the concert—"

"She cancelled band practice this week. Not sure what's going on, but I'll give her a call tomorrow."

Lilia took the information in, but it did nothing to quell her worries. Her mind went spinning with possibilities of what could've happened. "Va bene. Have fun, my love." 

"Bye, mamma."

She ran off with a wave, and Lilia looked after her for a moment before going inside. It was quiet. Her house was hardly ever quiet. Having Alice live with her again after the divorce had ensured it stayed that way, but now she was once again leaving the nest. When Alice had first left for college, it had thrown her into a midlife crisis that had led to her ripping the tapestry off the walls one night and then renovating the whole house. This time, she was developing a crush on the sinfully much younger best friend of her daughter.

She tossed everything aside—her bag, her coat, her shoes—and went to the bathroom to open the tap and draw herself a hot bath. Letting the water run, she headed for the bedroom to fetch her bathrobe, reading glasses, and the copy of Wicked Witch on her nightstand. While she was at it, she let her clothes pool at her feet and stood naked in front of the floor-length mirror. 

-> continue

[inkmonster21]

Short n’ Sweet💋

Hugh Jackman x Fem!Sister!Reynolds!Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Part 20

Series Masterlist

Don’t Cry Because It Happened Baby, Cry Because It’s Over

💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋

The phone rang urgently, and Megan's voice rushed and tinged with concern. You could hear the stress in her tone as she spoke as if something was amiss. "Where are you?" she asked, her words hasty and filled with urgency.

You responded, your voice sounding heavy with the weight of your emotions. "On the bus," you replied, your words laced with sadness. The tears streaming down your cheeks remained unseen by the others as you were tucked away in the privacy of your bunk.

Megan's voice held concern as she asked, "Are you crying?" She could probably sense the vulnerability and fragility in your tone, catching the hint of hurt in your voice that betrayed your emotional state.

The phone call suddenly ended, and mere moments later, you could hear the sound of Megan's chunky heeled boots echoing as she hurriedly approached the bus. Megan burst through the door, her concern evident in her urgent movements. She flung open the curtain of your bunk, startling you. The worry and concern etched on her face were palpable as she asked the question, her voice filling the small space, "What happened?"

Another tear slipped from your eye, and you rolled your eyes, trying to compose yourself. With a heavy sigh, you reached for your phone, your fingers trembling as you unlocked it. The screen lit up, and you navigated to TikTok.

As you scrolled, the videos of Debora and Hugh filled your feed, taunting you with their seemingly happy life. The drama channels claimed that their marriage was healed and they had never been happier. Each new image and caption felt like a blow to your already fragile state, and the pain within you intensified.

Megan looked at the screen with a sympathetic frown, her eyes expressing her genuine concern and empathy. Her words carried a blend of sadness and support.

"I'm sorry, girl," she expressed, her voice carrying a gentle tone. She was there for you, offering her presence and understanding in your moment of distress.

You expressed your frustration, tears brimming in your eyes as you spoke with palpable anger and hurt.

"He should be thinking of me! Not taking that vulture out to dinner! But no, he's out there looking fine as hell, holding her instead!" your words tumbled out, your emotions swirling in a chaotic whirlwind. The thought of Hugh being with someone else, looking so well and appearing happy with Debora, ignited a deep sense of jealousy and betrayal.

Despite your emotional turmoil, Megan couldn't help but let out a gentle giggle at your heated remark. It was a bittersweet moment, a brief respite from the heaviness that had settled in the air. Despite the situation, Megan's laughter carried an understanding and a touch of lightheartedness, a small glimmer of humor amidst the emotional chaos.

Megan's tone shifted, and she offered a smile, her words carrying a hint of a devilishly mischievous note.

"You know what we should do?" she asked you, her smile widening, clearly eager to share her idea.

The mischievous glint in her eyes and the smile on her face indicated that she had something in mind, something intended to lift your spirits or perhaps even provide some solace.

"What?" you responded, a hint of curiosity mingling with your sadness, as you looked at her with a glimmer of anticipation.

Megan's words carried a touch of boldness, a suggestion for you to shift your focus from the pain and heartbreak you were experiencing. She proposed a night out with drinks and friends, offering a temporary distraction from the memories of Hugh.

"We should go out," she proposed, her voice filled with determination. "Have some drinks with our friends and maybe, just maybe, you'll see some guy to take your attention away from the guy who convinced everyone he's got claws for hands." With a smirk, she hoped her suggestion would spark a moment of solace and lightness in your troubled heart.

A faint smile tugged at your lips as you considered Megan's suggestion. The thought of going out and having a break from it all seemed both appealing and necessary. Your heart was heavy, and the tension you had been carrying needed a release. Megan's words resonated with you, and the idea of being surrounded by friends and a few drinks felt like a much-needed respite.

With a mix of determination and resignation in your voice, you responded, "Fine," agreeing to her proposal. The word left your lips, and you knew deep down it would be good to step away from the emotional toll you had been carrying, even if only for a night.

Megan wasted no time in making the calls, reaching out to your close friends one by one. Her enthusiasm and determination were evident in her voice as she demanded a drama-free night. As expected, they were happy to come together and support you. In response, your friends responded positively, eager to join in and contribute to making the night a memorable one.

You slipped into your black dress, the fabric hugging your form, and paired it with matching chunky heels. The Versace sunglasses and bag added a touch of class and elegance to your outfit. You glanced at yourself in the mirror, making sure everything was in place, and adjusted your sunglasses, feeling ready to leave the drama and heartache behind for just one night.

You and your friends gathered together in the rooftop bar to enjoy dinner. The waiter led you all to the reserved section, offering you a space to enjoy the evening. The ambiance, lighting, and beautiful views created a comfortable atmosphere, perfect for a night out with good company to distract you from your troubles.

Megan leaned in with her wine glass, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She announced cheerfully, "TikTok time, everyone!"

You positioned yourself at the bar, a drink in hand, as Megan prepared to film you. She counted down, "Three, two, one..."

The music started, and a smile tugged at your lips as you waited for the cue. Once the music began, you turned to the camera and lip-synced to the lyrics, infusing it with emotion. As you sang, "Never waste Friday night on a first date," your words held a blend of resilience and determination, a subtle hint of past pain peeking through.

Megan shifted her camera's focus to another friend who joined in on the TikTok fun. With a playful smile on her face, she declared, "But there I was, with my hair straight!" The words carried a hint of sarcasm and humor, adding a touch of lightness and relatability to their collaborative TikTok.

Megan took the spotlight, turning the camera on herself and speaking with conviction. "So I take him to his bar, and this man wouldn't dance, wouldn't drink," she said, her voice filled with theatrical flair. "He didn't ask a single question!" Her words echoed with a mix of disappointment and disbelief, as she shared her experience in a way that was both relatable and entertaining.

Your fourth friend joined in, their voice filled with humor and wit. They chimed in, "And he was wearing these fugly jeans!" Their contribution added a touch of laughter to TikTok, a lighthearted moment that brought a smile to the group's faces.

The camera panned back to you, and you smirked confidently, your voice filled with a mix of sass and self-assurance. "It doesn't matter though. He doesn't have what it takes to be with a girl like me," you stated, your words carrying a sense of self-empowerment and resilience. You delivered the line with a hint of defiance and pride, the words serving as a reminder that you knew your worth.

As you spent time with your friends, laughing, sipping your drinks, and sharing stories, the warmth of their company seemed to wash away the heaviness weighing on you. The TikTok video, with your friend's added humor and your confident delivery, had been a fun and light-hearted distraction from the pain you had felt. It was a reminder that you had people in your life who cared for you and would be there to lift your spirits.

As you sit on the couch of the bus in the early hours of the morning, your mind couldn't help but drift towards Hugh. The images of him with Debora, his happiness, and their newfound closeness lingered in your thoughts, casting a shadow on your otherwise lighter mood. Memories of the TikTok video and the laughter with your friends couldn't completely dispel the pang of jealousy and bittersweet nostalgia that tugged at your heart. You sigh, feeling the weight of the past creep back into your mind as you lay on the couch, the darkness of the night only magnifying the ache within.

With a heavy heart, you reached for your notebook, seeking solace in the words you poured onto the pages. The act of writing felt like a release, allowing you to channel your emotions into something tangible, a means of expressing the thoughts and feelings that had been building inside you. As you began to write, the words flowed out effortlessly, as if they were a direct connection to your heart and soul. The song you were crafting served as a catharsis, a way to confront the lingering memories of Hugh and the pain that accompanied them.

With a melancholic smile, you closed the notebook, the words you had written serving as a bittersweet reminder of your emotions. As the bus rolled along the road, eventually lulling you into slumber, your mind found some solace in the temporary escape sleep provided. Your thoughts and feelings temporarily faded into the background as you slipped into a restful slumber.

The morning arrived early, and the day's schedule kicked into gear. You were ushered into the venue, and the hustle and bustle of the preparations began. You joined the sound engineers and crew members in checking the sounds and rehearsing. It was a chaotic yet exhilarating environment, with the hum of activity filling the air as everyone prepared for the evening's performance. The familiar routine and the focus on the performance served as a distraction from the tumultuous emotions you had been grappling with.

You approached the band with a warm smile, excitement, and anticipation evident in your voice.

"Hey, can I work with you guys on a new number?"

The band members turned to you, curious expressions on their faces. They exchanged glances, intrigued by your sudden request.

"Sure!" they agreed, their enthusiasm clear in their voices. "What do you have in mind?"

With anticipation, you presented your new song idea to the band, sharing the lyrics and the concept in your mind. As you spoke, the band members listened with interest, their expressions showing that they were intrigued and curious to hear the new direction you wanted to take.

"It's a slow, sorrowful tune," you told them, your voice conveying the emotional depth you hoped to capture in the song. "I think it's different from what we've done before, but it feels necessary. What do you think?"

The band members beamed with enthusiasm, their expressions lighting up at the idea of working on a new song.

"I love it!" they exclaimed, their excitement palpable. "Anything for you!" Their support and enthusiasm filled you with gratitude. They were ready to collaborate and create something special together, ready to bring your vision to life on stage. It was a glimmer of joy and excitement amidst the emotional turmoil you had been experiencing.

The whirlwind of the day flew by, each task ticking off on your mental checklist. Lunch, hair, makeup, and now, you stood in your costume, the final touch before the show began. As you looked at yourself in the mirror, the butterflies in your stomach fluttered with anticipation. The day had flown by, and it felt like the moment had come far too soon. The countdown to the show had begun.

Despite having performed the show countless times, the pre-concert nerves persisted, a subtle undercurrent of anticipation and excitement coursing through your veins. Every time you stepped onto the stage, the familiar mix of adrenaline and nervousness washed over you. It was a strange paradox, knowing deep down that you could deliver a flawless performance, yet always experiencing that flutter of butterflies before the show began.

With a burst of energy, you ran out onto the stage, the roar of the crowd washing over you like a wave. The screams and cheers filled your ears, their collective energy fueling your own. The anticipation and nerves dissolved, replaced by a rush of adrenaline and a sense of purpose. The stage lights shone bright, illuminating your presence as you prepared to captivate the audience.

As the show progressed, the setlist unfolded, and with each song, the crowd roared in unison, their voices blending together in a symphony of adulation. It was a tangible testament to the connection you shared with your fans, a bond forged through your music that filled the air with emotion. Your heart swelled with gratitude as their voices echoed throughout the venue, their passion and enthusiasm fueling your performance even further.

With a shift in tone, you addressed the audience, your voice carrying a hint of sincerity and anticipation.

"Okay, let's get real for a second. Some hot tea for you," you shared with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. The crowd's attention was fully invested, eager to hear the "tea" you were about to share. A collective cheer went through the crowd as you settled onto the couch, the plush fabric beneath you. You met the audience's eyes, a faint smile playing on your lips despite the sadness in your voice.

"You all know I was dating this guy," you began, the crowd's collective response echoing through the venue. You paused momentarily. "Good things end all the time, right?" you continued, a hint of resignation and pain lacing your words.

The gentle, melancholic tune filled the air, and your voice carried the weight of heartache and longing as you sang, "Don't smile because it happened, baby, cry because it's over." Your words were tinged with a raw vulnerability, your voice carrying the weight of the pain you felt. You paused, a moment of hesitation before delivering the next line.

"You're supposed to think about me every time you hold her," you sang, your voice filled with a mixture of sadness and hope. Each syllable was a dagger, a reminder of the love lost and the memories that lingered.

As you sang, the words poured out of you, the raw emotions seeping through. Your voice trembled with vulnerability, the tears cascading down your cheeks, a physical manifestation of the heartache you felt. The song became a catharsis, a way to release the pent-up pain you had been carrying. Each note was infused with an aching honesty that resonated with the depth of your emotions.

Tears continued to stream down your face as you poured your heart into the words, your voice filled with a mix of sorrow, longing, and a hint of defiance. The raw emotion in your voice was palpable, as the lyrics spilled out in a heart-wrenching plea.

"I want you to miss me," you sang, the words a combination of an aching plea and a subtle act of desperation.

Hugh sat in the darkness of this living room and listened intently as you sang the new song, the lyrics resonating deep within him. He couldn't help but seek out the video, the curiosity and longing pulling him towards the performance. Each word you sang felt like a direct stab to his heart, the lyrics mirroring his pain and remorse. He knew he shouldn't be watching, but he couldn't tear himself away either.

Hugh picked up on the glimmer of hope within your words, the underlying emotions beneath the pain. He recognized that you still wanted him, that you still desired him to think about you. The realization sent a jolt through his chest, a glimmer of hope and vulnerability that echoed within him. The connection you had shared still lingered, and it both comforted and tortured him in equal measure.

It was at that exact moment Hugh began formulating a plan of sorts, determined to speak with Debora and convince her that they shouldn't be together. The thought echoed in his mind, reminding him of the reasons that had led to their divorce in the first place. He was resolute, determined to communicate his feelings and make her understand the unhealthy nature of their relationship.

Hugh's voice was serious, his tone heavy with the weight of emotions as he spoke.

"I need to speak with you," he said as Debora walked through the door, his words filled with a sense of urgency and importance. He stood there, waiting for her to acknowledge him, to give him a chance to express what he needed to say.

Hugh watched as Debora held up her hand, “hold on,” her focus on her phone call rather than on him. Hugh's voice was firm, his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. “This is important," he repeated, his words carrying a sense of urgency and insistence. He wanted her to understand the significance of what he needed to discuss, the weight of the matter that couldn't be ignored or brushed aside.

Debora retorted, her voice tinged with attitude and a sense of frustration.

"So is this," she hissed, dismissively rolling her eyes. Her response was defensive, indicating that she was unwilling to prioritize Hugh's concerns and preferred to focus on her phone call instead.

Hugh's patience had reached its limit, and his annoyance and distaste were evident in his gaze. His words came out bluntly, leaving no room for ambiguity.

"This isn't working, Debora. I want you to move out," he stated firmly, his tone holding a mixture of frustration and determination.

Debora looked at Hugh with a mix of disbelief and frustration, the glare in her eyes evident. She ended her phone call and turned her attention to him fully, her eyes narrowing. She responded, her voice filled with defensiveness, "What did you just say?"

Hugh's gaze met hers, his determination evident in the way he held her gaze. He repeated his words, his voice holding a sense of resoluteness.

"I said I want you to move out," he said calmly yet firmly, not backing down from his stance.

Debora's response was immediate, her voice rising with emotion.

"You want me to move out?? After everything we've been through? After all the good times we had?" she retorted, her tone defensive and incredulous. The conversation was heating up quickly, as the underlying tension between them intensified.

Hugh's expression turned more cynical, and his voice carried a hint of sarcasm.

"What good times?" he retorted, his words dripping with sarcasm. "When were those good times, Debora? Because I can't recall any lately."

Hugh's voice was strained with frustration, and his words came out in a blunt, direct tone.

"Just... pack your things please, and get the f*** out," he said, his words cutting through the air with a mix of exhaustion and exasperation. He was at the end of his patience, and the tension between them had reached a boiling point.

Debora responded with an angry huff, her words filled with frustration and resentment.

"Fine! Fine!" she spat, her tone seething. She stormed down the hallway, cursing Hugh to the core, promising to make his life miserable. "You think you're struggling now? Just wait until I'm done with you!" Her threat hung in the air, adding to the already tense atmosphere.

Hugh didn't bother to respond, his gaze steady and his determination unwavering. He simply turned away, walking out the door and firmly shutting it behind him. The echo of the door closing resonated, symbolizing the end of the intense exchange.

Hugh stepped outside, the fresh air greeting him as he strolled through the streets, letting his thoughts wander. The weight of the conversation with Debora lingered in his mind, and he needed some space to clear his head. The cool breeze and the rhythm of his steps provided a temporary respite from the tumultuous emotions.

Despite the ongoing tension and frustration with Debora, Hugh found a sense of lightness within him as he continued walking. The momentary escape from their tumultuous relationship and the fresh air had lifted a weight that he hadn't realized had been weighing him down. It was as if his steps were carrying him away from the chaos, bringing a glimmer of clarity amid the emotional turmoil.

As Hugh walked, his thoughts wandered to you, the memories of your relationship and the thoughts of your well-being taking root in his mind. He couldn't help but wonder if you were safe if you were enjoying your tour, and if you were managing to find some peace amidst the chaos. These thoughts created a strange mix of concern and curiosity, the image of you never completely leaving his mind.

The thought of contacting you crossed Hugh's mind, a mix of longing and hesitation in his heart. He longed to reach out, to hear your voice, to reconnect with the passionate relationship you shared. However, there was also a sense of uncertainty. He doubted if you would even answer his call, considering the nature of your last encounter.

Hugh's mind continued to wander, his thoughts shifting from you to Debora. He couldn't help but criticize himself for allowing Debora back into his life, for thinking that the vacation would be innocent and free from drama. He cursed himself for being so naive, for not seeing the signs.

Hugh's contemplation was momentarily interrupted by Ryan's cheerful greeting. He looked up to see Ryan approaching, his carefree demeanor contrasting with the heaviness of Hugh's thoughts. The distraction was a welcome reprieve, albeit a temporary one.

As Ryan and Blake approached him, Hugh couldn't help but feel a mixture of gratitude for the distraction but also a sense of internal conflict.

As Hugh engaged in conversation with Ryan, there was an unspoken understanding between them. Ryan didn't bring up the topic of you, and Hugh didn't want to open that can of worms either, even though he couldn't deny the nagging thought that lingered in the back of his mind. Part of him hoped that he could have the chance to reconnect with you, given the chance.

Hugh couldn't help but let curiosity get the better of him. Despite his attempts to push aside thoughts of you, he found himself asking, "How's (y/n)?" The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. He knew he shouldn't be asking, but the question lingered in his mind, and he couldn't help but be curious about your well-being.

Ryan, being aware of your heartbroken state, opted to keep the truth to himself. He knew that you were still carrying the pain of your split from Hugh, that you were pouring your emotions into your music and finding solace in your performances.

“She’s great!” Blake's response was filled with a forced cheerfulness, masking the underlying truth. She knew the depth of your pain, the heartbreak that you were still grappling with. However, she maintained her smile, not wanting to reveal too much to Hugh.

Hugh's response was a mix of conflicting emotions. He forced a smile, trying to push away the thought of you moving on, finding someone better, someone younger. He couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, which he quickly tried to conceal. His nod was a strained gesture, the smile forced and unnatural.

"That's good...great," he echoed, the words feeling hollow but necessary to maintain the facade. Hugh felt the need to exit, the weight of his emotions becoming too overwhelming. He apologized, making an excuse to leave. "Sorry to keep you two. I'll be on my way," he said, his voice betraying a hint of exhaustion.

Ryan grabbed Hugh's shoulder, his touch a comforting gesture amidst the emotional turmoil. He offered him a supportive smile and added, "Give me a call sometime, bud." Ryan knew his friend was struggling, and the casual invitation was a subtle attempt to let Hugh know he was there for him whenever needed no matter if you were his sister.

With each step, Hugh felt the weight of longing for you weighing heavily on his heart. The memories of your shared moments together replayed in his mind, making the ache even more pronounced. The walk seemed to drag on, his thoughts consumed by the void left by your absence.

In a moment of impulse, Hugh took out his phone and pulled up your number. He stared at it for a moment, his thumb hovering over the call button. Finally, without giving himself time to second-guess himself, he pressed the call button, his heart pounding in his chest.

You were in the midst of the routine process of removing your makeup and changing out of your intricate costume when your phone rang. You called out to Meg, requesting her assistance. Her eyes widened as she looked at the caller ID.

"It's just Ryan," Meg replied smoothly, her quick response, not quite a lie but not the entire truth either. You scoffed, expressing your frustration with her answer. "I just talked to him before the show. Can you take it?" you asked, your closed eyes not quite hiding the irritation in your voice. Meg, ever quick on her feet, continued her half-truth, "I'll handle it, don't worry."

Meg stepped outside the dressing room, her voice slightly changed as she answered, "Hello?" She tried to sound as casual as possible, though her voice carried a hint of tension, aware that the person on the other end was someone she didn't expect.

Hugh felt a pang of disappointment, hearing Meg's voice on the other end of the phone instead of yours. His heart sank, and his brows furrowed in confusion and disappointment. "Megan?" he repeated, the name feeling like a cruel joke. "Is (y/n) there?"

"She is, but she's getting cleaned up. I can take a message," Meg's voice carried a mix of professionalism and hesitation. Hugh felt a pang of frustration at her words, his hopes suddenly dashed. He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to leave a message for you or not.

With a sigh, Hugh's disappointment washed over him. "No, I just... I don't even know why I called… I miss her," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration and resignation. He couldn't help but feel foolish for making the impulsive call, now facing the reality that he wouldn't be speaking directly to you.

Megan sighed, a mix of sympathy and concern evident in her voice. She couldn't help but let a hint of truth slip through her words, "She misses you, but you didn't hear that from me." The words carried a sense of worry and concern for her friend, knowing how deeply the situation had affected you.

Hugh's tone betrayed a hint of hope, his voice tinged with a touch of disbelief. "She does?" he asked, his tone filled with a mix of cautious optimism. The prospect of you missing him, combined with Megan's words, sparked a glimmer of hope in his heart, despite his attempts to push away such feelings.

Megan's simple affirmation carried weight, and Hugh couldn't help but feel a mix of joy and confusion. "Yeah, she does," she confirmed, her words echoing in his ears. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe it, a flicker of hope blooming within him.

Hugh's tone became more decisive as he shared his news. "I left Debora," he stated, a mix of determination and hope resonating in his voice. The statement carried the weight of his decision, a moment of clarity amid his tumultuous emotions.

Megan's suggestion carried a tone of honesty and concern. "You should tell her that," she advised. Her words echoed in Hugh's mind, the truth of her statement sinking in. He knew that he needed to tell you, but he also feared the response. "In person preferably," Megan added, emphasizing the importance of a face-to-face conversation. She knew the weight of the moment, the significance of Hugh's decision, and the impact it would have both on you and his own emotions.

Hugh agreed, realizing the importance of what Megan was saying. "Right, right," he said, affirming he understood the significance of speaking to you in person. His heart skipped a beat, both nervous and hopeful at the prospect of finally seeing you after all this time.

Hugh's voice conveyed a mix of vulnerability and hope. "Maybe, just don't tell I called then," he whispered, his words tinged with a hint of embarrassment and desperation. The thought of you learning about his attempt to reach out through Megan stung, and he wanted to ensure that you didn't find out.

"Sure," Megan replied, her tone warm and reassuring. She was aware of the delicate situation and wanted to support Hugh in any way she could. However, she also understood the need for discretion and the potential implications of Hugh's words. The call ended with a sense of unresolved tension, the conversation leaving both Megan and Hugh with mixed emotions.

As Megan returned to the dressing room, she swiftly deleted the call from your phone's history. She made sure to maintain her composure, acting as if nothing had happened, pretending that the conversation had never taken place. Her actions were done out of a sense of protection, trying to maintain a facade of normalcy in the face of the emotional revelations that had just occurred.

Hugh's thoughts were still buzzing, his heart heavy with both hope and uncertainty. Without hesitation, he dialed Ryan's number, the desire to confide in his friend overwhelming. The phone rang, its sound echoing in Hugh's ear, his anticipation growing with each passing moment.

"Ryan, I need to talk to you," Hugh's voice was filled with a mix of urgency and vulnerability. The weight of his recent decisions and emotions had reached a boiling point and he needed to confide in his friend.

Ryan's light-hearted response brought a slight smile to Hugh's face, momentarily easing the tension he carried. Despite the seriousness of his emotions, he couldn't help but appreciate Ryan's ability to bring a touch of humor into the situation.

"Yeah, well, sometimes an hour is all I've got," Hugh replied, a hint of humor laced in his tone, trying to match Ryan's casual demeanor. Hugh's words poured out in a rush, his voice carrying a mix of vulnerability and desperation. He recounted the events that led to his decision to break things off with Debora, how he had finally put his foot down, and how he felt a deep, aching longing for you. There was a sense of longing and regret in his voice as he explained his desperation to have you back in his life.

Ryan sighed, “We’re going to the LA show on Saturday. You can tag along if you want.” Ryan's offer surprised Hugh, but it also sparked a glimmer of hope within him. The prospect of attending an LA show and getting the chance to see you again filled him with a mix of excitement and apprehension. He tried to compose himself, attempting to sound casual despite the emotions raging within him.

Hugh's gratitude was heartfelt, his voice carrying a mix of relief and appreciation. The offer of a chance to see you again, even if it was a simple gesture, meant the world to him. He couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for Ryan's support and understanding. "Thank you, mate. Really," he replied, the words echoing his genuine appreciation.

Hugh ended the call, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. The thought of seeing you at the LA show filled him with both excitement and anxiety. He knew he needed to proceed cautiously, yet he couldn't help but feel the hopefulness that came with the possibility of reconnecting.

As the day of the LA show approached, both Ryan and Hugh were visibly anxious. The anticipation hung heavy in the air, each of them grappling with their fears and concerns. Ryan was anxious about how you might react, fearing your anger or disappointment. Hugh, on the other hand, was consumed by the fear of being rejected, his hopes riding on the possibility of rebuilding your bond.

As Hugh, Ryan, and the group entered the building, they were immediately greeted by a swarm of fans. Cameras flashed, and the shouts and screams filled the air. Hugh tried to keep his composure, managing a smile and waving to the fans, but his thoughts were consumed by you.

As the show commenced, Hugh watched you as you ran out on stage, a mix of emotions coursing through him. The sight of you in the iconic towel and the bejeweled bodysuit stirred a mix of admiration and longing within him. He found himself clenching his fists, the weight of emotions overwhelming him. Despite the crowded arena, his focus was solely fixed on you.

As the Juno arrest segment of the show began, you walked near the VIP area, closer to the stage. The bright lights illuminated the faces of the audience members, including the celebrities seated in the front rows. While scanning the floor, you heard your name called out, and you turned to see none other than Marcello Hernández playing the role of his iconic character, 'Domingo,' from 'SNL.'

You couldn't help but widen your eyes and break into a knowing smile. "Oh my god! Hi," you replied, your tone filled with genuine delight. "What's your name?" you asked playfully, acknowledging his iconic character and accepting the unexpected moment.

Marcello beamed with enthusiasm, the character of 'Domingo' fully embodying his energetic and over-the-top nature. "What's my name?" Marcello chuckled, feigning slight offense. "My name’s Domingo."

With a radiant smile, you playfully engaged with Domingo, embracing his character and the lighthearted banter.

"Oh," you responded, your voice filled with a mix of amusement and playfulness, "Is there anything you want to say before I arrest you, Domingo?" You mimicked his dramatic behavior, emphasizing the fun aspect of the encounter.

Marcello, fully immersed in his 'Domingo' character, beamed with a smile as he began his skit. The words came out with a combination of humor and mock embarrassment.

"Came all this way, had to explain, direct from Domingo," he stated, his voice filled with an over-the-top flair. "(Y/n)’s my friend. She's like my sis," he continued, "but we did hook up, though!" There was a mix of theatrical exaggeration in his words, adding an element of humor and lightheartedness to the conversation.

You fanned yourself dramatically, adding to the humor of the situation. As your skirt fell off, you played along, allowing the moment to unfold, and the audience to laugh, thoroughly entertained by the comedic exchange between you and Marcello.

As you smiled at Marcello, playing along with the skit, you bent down with the handcuffs in hand. "Like now?" you asked, your voice tinged with amusement and a playful tone.

As you handed the handcuffs to Marcello, your eyes caught a glimpse of something—someone familiar standing behind him. The sight of Hugh, watching you from the VIP area, momentarily caught your attention. Your expression might have briefly revealed a flicker of surprise or a mix of emotions, even as you remained locked in the skit.

As the music started, your eyes lingered on Hugh, taking in the sight of him standing in the VIP area. Despite the performance in progress, your eyes seemed fixated on Hugh for a moment longer than intended. The weight of his presence, the memories flooding back, and the lingering feelings made it challenging to focus solely on the show.

As the performance continued, the sight of Hugh in the audience added an extra layer of surprise and uncertainty to the moment. The question lingered in your mind, 'Why was he here?' It was impossible not to wonder about his presence.

As the show went on, your attention was constantly drawn to Hugh's presence, your gaze seeking him out at every possible opportunity. The act of searching for him amidst the crowd became distracting, even as you tried to focus on the performance. No matter how much you attempted to stay in character, your mind remained divided, pulled between the show and the reality of Hugh watching from the VIP section.

The performance reached its final moments, and you were lowered down from the center of the stage. As you descended, the lights dimmed, signaling the conclusion of the skit, but the weight of Hugh's presence remained on your mind. You couldn't shake off the feeling of his gaze on you, the emotions that swirled within you, and the lingering questions that surfaced about his unexpected appearance.

As you rushed to the dressing room, a whirlwind of emotions coursing through you, you burst through the door, seeking the safe space of the dressing room. You were ready to vent, to express the emotions that were threatening to consume you. The sight of Megan, your longtime friend and confidante, brought a sense of relief, a familiar face in a moment of uncertainty and vulnerability.

The words tumbled out of your mouth as you rushed in, your voice filled with emotion and intensity. "He's here!" you exclaimed, the words carrying a mix of surprise, uncertainty, and a tinge of fear as if the mere presence of Hugh had sent a shockwave through your entire being.

Megan, who was in the dressing room waiting for you, immediately understood the significance of your words, her eyes widening with a mix of surprise and concern.

Ryan stood outside the dressing room, his casual attitude contrasting with the whirlwind of emotions inside. He called out to Hugh, "You coming in or what?"

Hugh's gaze lingered on your door, his mind still consumed by thoughts of you. It took him a moment to compose himself before he turned away, responding, "Yeah, I'm coming." The decision to join Ryan, the uncertainty of the moment, and the desire to be near you all weighed heavily on his mind. He knew he couldn't stay away.

There was a gentle knock on the dressing room door, a familiar sound that interrupted the whirlwind of emotions inside. As Megan opened the door, her eyes widened, seeing Ryan and Hugh standing there, their unexpected presence setting her on edge. She looked at them with a mix of surprise and concern, "What are you two doing here?" The question hung in the air, and Megan's expression betrayed her curiosity and slight annoyance.

Your voice called out from within the dressing room, your curiosity tinged with a hint of concern. "Who is it?" you asked, your tone filled with uncertainty. From behind the closed door, you waited for answers, the tension in the air palpable as you tried to discern the identity of the unexpected visitors.

Megan, standing at the door, froze, caught in the awkward and uncertain situation. Her mind raced, searching for the right words to say, but they seemed to elude her. She looked at Ryan and Hugh, her expression a mix of hesitation and worry, unsure how to handle the situation at hand.

As you stood up from the couch, the weight of the situation felt heavier than ever. With each step closer to the door, your heartbeat quickened, anticipation and uncertainty filling the air. Your mind was a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, your mind racing with questions about what might await you on the other side of the dressing room door.

Your eyes met the familiar gaze, and in that moment, time seemed to stand still. The world around you faded away, and your heart pounded in your chest as you froze in place. The mix of emotions surged through you, a rush of surprise, confusion, and a hint of a familiar warmth that you couldn't deny. The weight of the moment was palpable, filling the air with a mix of tension and unspoken emotions.

Ryan's voice broke the silence, his friendly smile trying to dissipate the tension in the air. "Hey!" he said, his tone casual yet carrying a hint of anticipation. "We just wanted to stop by." The words seemed innocent enough, but the underlying intentions were not lost on anyone present.

Despite the conflicting emotions within you—the desire to slam the door shut and the pull of your heart—your words slipped out, softly inviting, "Come in." The words carried a mix of resignation and curiosity as if a part of your heart couldn't help but grant them entry into your space.

Ryan, in his typical playful manner, wasted no time in claiming the bean bag chair, diving into it with a gleeful grin. "Dibs!" he declared, his voice filled with a mix of cheer and possessiveness as he settled into the cozy seat, making himself at home.

As Hugh passed you, a pang of longing stirred within him, the urge to reach out and touch you almost overwhelming. But he held back, the intensity of the moment and the audience of Ryan preventing him from acting upon his desires.

With a touch of sincerity in his voice, he said, "You were amazing." The words were meant to convey his genuine admiration and appreciation for your performance, but they were tinged with the unspoken feelings that lingered beneath the surface.

You were momentarily speechless, still caught off guard by Hugh's presence and his words of praise. The mix of emotions consumed your thoughts, making it difficult to form a coherent response. All you could muster was a simple, "Thanks, Hugh." Your voice was soft but tinged with a mix of confusion and a hint of warmth, as if your tongue was tied, unable to fully express the feelings stirred inside.

Ryan, observing the awkward silence that hung in the air, decided to broach the subject. He chuckled lightly, his voice breaking the tension, "Shit. The tension here, huh?" His words hung in the air, acknowledging the palpable tension that lingered between you and Hugh, bringing it to the surface. The moment was heavy, the unspoken words and emotions creating an undeniable atmosphere of unease.

As the door opened, the photographer along with Marcello, and a few additional individuals entered the dressing room, adding to the already crowded space. The chaos of the moment intensified, with the room buzzing with activity and the weight of the tension between you and Hugh becoming more pronounced.

You greeted the intruders with a warm smile, putting on your charming demeanor, and welcomed them into the already crowded dressing room. "Hey! Come in!" you said, the words carrying a sense of enthusiasm despite the tension in the air. As you stood up to hug Marcello, you praised him warmly, "That was so fun. Everyone loved it!" Your words were a mix of genuine praise for the skit and a cover for the tense atmosphere.

The photographer requested a photo of you and Marcello together, and you obliged, deliberately choosing to sit close to him. With a sultry smirk, you draped yourself playfully over him, perhaps a subtle act of pettiness aimed at Hugh. The moment felt charged, filled with a mix of banter and unspoken emotions.

Your actions were not lost on Hugh. Your subtle act of pettiness was not lost on him, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. The sight of you so close to Marcello, the playful banter and your smirk fueled the emotions burning within him.

Ryan, seizing the opportunity to leave Hugh and you alone, grabbed Megan's arm, pulling her along. He played it off as a request to see your shoes, asking her to show him where they were. "Say, show me where they keep her shoes. I want to see if I can run in them," he chuckled, his tone playful, but his intentions clear. With a swift push, he ushered Megan out of the room, leaving you and Hugh alone together.

The silence between you and Hugh stretched on for what felt like an eternity, the tension in the air so thick it could be cut with a knife. The weight of his presence, the longing for you, and the unspoken words all hung between you, creating a palpable and uncomfortable atmosphere. Neither of you knew how to break the silence, the tension so palpable it seemed to consume the very air around them.

As you stood up and moved to the mirror, applying a touch of lipstick, the question, "How's Debora?" slipped from your lips, laced with a subtle jab.

Hugh watched you with a mix of emotions, his gaze filled with longing and a hint of intensity. As you turned to look at him, your furrowed brows revealing your confusion, he answered, his voice filled with a mix of resignation and hurt. "Pretty pissed. She moved out a few days ago." The words hung in the air.

"Sorry to hear that," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of genuine sympathy. Hugh stood, shaking his head as he admitted, "Don't be. I asked her to." His words hung heavily in the air, a mixture of regret and resolution filling him. There was a mix of conflicting emotions within him, a blend of sadness and a sense of determination. The weight of his decision, the end of his relationship, and the uncertainty of his future weighed heavily on his mind, making the silence between you and him feel even heavier.

As you asked, "Why'd you do that?" your voice was filled with a mix of curiosity and concern. The question hung in the air, seeking an answer to the turmoil that Hugh was feeling.

The weight of Hugh's confession hung heavy in the air, and the vulnerability in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. "Because I was a complete idiot," he admitted, the words tinged with regret and self-awareness. "Because I miss you. Because I love you, (y/n)." The intensity of his words left no room for doubt, his love and feelings laid bare, a direct and vulnerable admission that shook the very foundation of your connection.

As Hugh bared his soul, his raw and honest confession hanging in the air, you felt a mix of emotions coursing through you. There was a part of you that yearned to throw your arms around him, to embrace him and give in to the love and feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface. But a sense of uncertainty held you back, the nagging doubts and concerns making it difficult to act on the impulse.

Hugh's gaze met yours, the weight of his confession still lingering in his eyes. He understood your hesitation and the pain he had caused you. With a hushed voice, you expressed your uncertainty, "I don't know what to say, Hugh. You broke my heart." The words slipped from your lips, filled with a mix of pain and confusion. The raw vulnerability in your voice echoed throughout the room, revealing the depths of the hurt that his actions had inflicted.

Hugh, unable to contain his emotions, closed the distance between you, pulling you into a tight embrace. His strong arms wrapped around you, the warmth of his touch seeping through the fabric of your bodysuit. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart, in sync with your own, the connection between you was electric and undeniable.

Hugh whispered, his voice filled with genuine remorse and a mix of vulnerability, "I'm sorry, baby. I was a fool to let you go. Please," his words filled with a pleading tone as his warm breath brushed against your skin. There was a raw honesty in his voice, a heartfelt plea that echoed through the room, as he begged for a chance to make things right.

Your resistance melted away as his lips found your neck, planting soft, feather-light kisses. His hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your hips and waist. You moaned softly, unable to deny the pleasure his touch ignited.

"I've fantasized about this moment, about having you again," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "Let's make up for lost time, right here, right now."

The thought of being intimate with Hugh in your dressing room sent a rush of adrenaline through your veins. With a swift motion, you unzipped the bodysuit, letting it slide off your shoulders, revealing your body beneath.

Hugh's eyes widened at the sight of you. He couldn't resist any longer. In a swift motion, he lifted you onto the vanity, the cool marble contrasting with your heated bodies. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. Your lips met in a passionate kiss, tongues dancing and exploring, tasting each other's hunger.

Hugh's hands cupped your breasts, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. He teased your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, causing you to arch your back and moan. You ran your hands through his hair, urging him on. "I want you to fuck me, Hugh," you whispered between kisses. "I need you inside me."

Hugh didn't need to be told twice. He undid his pants with haste and positioned himself at your entrance, his hard cock throbbing with anticipation. With one swift thrust, he buried himself deep within your pussy.

The vanity trembled with each powerful stroke, the sound of your bodies slapping together filling the dressing room. Your hands gripped the edge of the vanity, your nails digging into the marble as Hugh pounded into your cunt, hitting all the right spots.

"Oh, God, yes! Right there, Hugh!" You cried out, your body on the brink of ecstasy.

Hugh's hips moved in a relentless rhythm, his balls slapping with each thrust. He leaned forward, capturing your nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

"You feel so fucking good, baby," he growled between thrusts. "I've missed this, missed you."

Your moans filled the room as you neared your climax. Hugh's name escaped your lips in a desperate plea for release. He obliged, increasing his pace, driving her over the edge.

"Cum for me, baby!" he commanded, his voice thick with desire.

Your body shook, pussy clenching around his shaft as you came, screaming his name. Hugh held you tightly, his orgasm building as he felt your tight grip on his cock.

With one final, powerful thrust, Hugh unleashed his load deep inside you, filling you with his hot cum. You both clung to each other, your hearts racing and bodies slick with sweat. As their breathing slowed, Hugh gently lowered you onto the couch, your bodies still intertwined. He kissed you softly, his hands caressing your face.

"I love you, (y/n). I want to make this right, to be with you again," he whispered, his eyes filled with sincerity. Your heart softened at his words. You had never stopped loving him, despite the pain he had caused. You knew this reunion was fueled by passion and revenge, but in that moment, you couldn't deny the connection you both shared.

"We started off so fast. Let's take this one step at a time, Hugh. We have a lot to work through," you replied, voice laced with desire and caution. Hugh smiled, his eyes sparkling with determination. "I'm not giving up on us, not this time. I'll prove to you that we can make it work." As you two lay entangled on the couch, your bodies still buzzing from the intense encounter, you couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of a new chapter or a fleeting moment of passion.

💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋💛💋

@sue8724

@angellight

@sir-thisisadndserver

@otherluckywitnesses

@clairyfairysworld

@ava-the-cosmic-writer101

@meetmypointlessaddiction

@thrivingandcrying

@that-nerdgirl-0221

@jtheteenagewitch

@coowayeoo

@habbygirl35

@melday0105

@llamaproblem

@themarvelingstargazer

@kingdom-of-random-things

@magicalkoalawombat

@jules-and-gems

@mooneyloveydovey

@mami-veracruz

@cheyenneisarose

@greep215

@multiplelover

@x-uglyprincess-x

@wereallprettybizarre97

@kellyxo1

@keerygal

@jules-and-gemss

[bwat5-blog]

Caitlyn & Violet: A Deeper Look

**Spoilers For All Of Arcane**

Recently I reached out to the community asking for some requests on angles/ideas/topics and so on that anyone would be interested in my analysis on. A few of you amazing folks responded for which I am extremely grateful. @phoenixlionme asked me to delve into a few points I have never discussed at all, regarding Caitlyn Kiramman, and the way she connects to Vi's heritage and past.

Caitlyn as a bridge between cities

Caitlyn's similarities to Vi's loved ones

Caitlyn compared to the leaders of Zaun (for Clarity @phoenixlionme phrased it as people Sevika has followed, this is just an easier way for me to approach it in my head)

So! to that end, I will be digging into these ideas and expanding my own insight into this wonderful character. As I am so fond of saying, good stories matter. And the continued exploration and discussion of this story and it's characters will help it live on. Thank you.

Caitlyn As The Bridge Between Cities:

When the story begins, Caitlyn and Vi could not be from more different worlds. Vi's life is poisoned with violence and loss, even witnessing the deaths of her birth parents at the hands of Enforcers. In that opening scene, they are monstrous. Emerging from smoke and shadow, dealing death and pain all hidden behind cold unfeeling masks. Her childhood in Zaun has made her a hardened survivor even at such a young age.

But in the sunny streets of Piltover, where Caitlyn has been raised, the Enforcers are smiling, happy symbols of peace and safety. Caitlyn is the daughter and heir to one of the great houses of Piltover. Her name means innovation, wealth and respect. She receives shooting lessons from the sheriff of Piltover herself. She joins the enforcers when she comes of age because the reality she has known has only ever taught her to view them as a force for good.

But of course as the story commences we see these two individuals from totally different worlds come together. Their realities joined in ways both good and bad. So let's dig into this further, starting with the simple stuff.

Vi-

Well to state the obvious, Caitlyn is love with the birth daughter of one of the architects of Zaun, and the eldest adopted daughter of another. Although Vi's place in Zaun likely feels unsteady to her after all that occurs in Season 2, it seems logical to suggest that during the reconstruction efforts after the war and during the restitution efforts towards her people she and Caitlyn's relationship will help bridge the gap in general.

Sevika-

At the end of season two, Caitlyn has given the seat of house Kiramman to none other than Sevika of Zaun. People have done just about everything in their power to pretend this doesn't matter. It does. It just does. I know there were people hoping to see the Piltover elite lined up and executed by firing squad, while Jinx reigned supreme over the flames and was served tea by a chained and forcibly blinded Caitlyn, all while Vi excoriated herself with a flail and sang Jinx's praises loudly for all to hear. But for those of us who were never fitted for our tinfoil hats, this is a massive step.

The council hold the highest positions of power in the twin cities. And now because of Caitlyn, one of them belongs to the undercity. She has literally created a link between the two surrendering her own families power and giving it to the undercity who have never had that voice before. It isn't all encompassing change because that isn't real. It's a first powerful step made by someone with all the power, to start bridging the divide.

The Commander -

Alright. Now we start getting into the more complex part of her relationship with Zaun. Caitlyn's arc is immensely complex and controversial and there is a lot of depth and nuance to this part of her story. I have written about this in HEAVY.. HEAVY DETAIL. So if you would like to see that I would love for you to check it out. But for our purposes here I am going to keep to the basics. Because to discuss how I feel the aftermath of this will lead to her having more of a connection with the Undercity, we at least need to go over what happened. To begin with, lets do a very quick barebones rundown:

Born in Piltover

Entered Zaun with Vi

Reentered Zaun leading strike team. Hunting chem-barons, Jinx, and Shimmer.

Becomes The Commander

Occupation Of Zaun

The War

The Strike Team:

Now, on a logical level only, the strike team did not do anything wrong. The Chem-Barons were dangerous drug lords. Shimmer is an absolute threat to all of the Undercity. And while there is obviously so much more to be said about Jinx, for their purposes they are hunting a dangerous terrorist who just assassinated three of their leaders. Yes. For logic based purposes only this does also includes the Grey. I have beat this horse to death, kicked it while it's down, revived it, and shot it in the head. I am not doing it again here. So I will just say that on a purely logical level, using a non-lethal crowd dispersal weapon on specific targets while hunting dangerous crime lords and a terrorist who likes things that go boom.... Not the worst idea.

The real issue with the strike team's actions, can be discussed in two points:

Caitlyn's motivation-

"Can I do the right thing for the wrong reason? Is it bad that I'm making friends with my demons, and Living by a couple deadly sins Just to make sure I finish what you began And I ain't afraid to lose a life or ten If it means that I get to win in the end (woo) So I'ma do this on my own, step into the danger zone Pull the pin and watch it blow

I would rather die alone" (Hellfire Arcane)

The problem is that Caitlyn did not lead her team into the undercity to liberate it's people. She did so for revenge. Each action pushing her further and further into her rage and pain. So even though her actions were "pure" her intention was driven by hate.

2. History with Piltovan Oppression-

As stated, the goals of the strike team were pure. And on a purely logic based level, the fan reaction to the grey has been hyperbolic to say the least. The problem is in the history. Uniformed Enforcers using a weapon that no matter how overblown the reaction does make people choke and cough and possibly pass out. It's all just too reminiscent of what the Undercity has been through before.

The Occupation:

So despite this being a massive part of this story, for our purposes here there is not a terrible amount to say. As very rough overview:

Caitlyn has become commander over the two cities during a period of Martial Law.

Ambessa Medarda rules from the shadows using Caitlyn as her scape goat.

All of Zaun has been placed under full occupation until Jinx is found. Dissenters are jailed, there are checkpoints, and it seems as though the Noxian "peace keeping forces" are being as brutal as possible. Therefore driving dissent and anger to even higher levels allowing Ambessa more time to achieve her goals.

Occupation ends when Caitlyn realizes how she had lost her way, turns on Ambessa, and the occupation ends in the days leading up to the final battle.

The issue of course is that Ambessa's part in this aside, Caitlyn was the face of it. And as I have said from the beginning, I am NOT attempting to absolve Caitlyn of her responsibility in what happened. Some portion of our fandom have essentially chosen to pretend Ambessa just strolled in, and offered Caitlyn the job of despot while they held hands and skipped through the torture camps together. You and I know better. But the people of Zaun lived it. And they don't have the benefit of having seen everything we saw and understanding all of Caitlyn's story. So at the end of the day Caitlyn is the face of the oppressive regime that made their lives hell for a few months.

How They Move Forward:

Okay. So tying it all together how could "Commander Caitlyn Kiramman" possibly become a bridge between cities with everything that has happened? Because they are all moving forward. I am not pretending that it is anywhere close to over. In fact as I said earlier when discussing Sevika it is just a step. But Zaunite and Piltovan alike saw Caitlyn almost give her life to end Ambessa. And the two cities fought side by side against the threat to all life that Viktor posed. So moving forward:

Caitlyn is married to a famous Zaunite.

She has given Zaun their first real step toward equality.

Her guilt is going to drive her to keep working to make things better for the Undercity. It doesn't take deep character analysis to see that.

She is a Kiramman. Despite her perversion of her families work with the ventilation during her darkest moments, she has all of that knowledge now. I predict she will keep working alongside Vi to find ways to make things right.

I know people have felt quite strongly that the show didn't do enough to resolve Piltover VS Zaun. But I think people need to remember that as insane and epic as it was, this show was essentially a prequel to our time in this world. There is so much more to come. Caitlyn is a young woman who has made mistakes, but I predict will go on to do great things for Piltover and Zaun both. After all, if the right hand woman of the man who unleashed shimmer on their streets can become their voice in government, and the feared and insane terrorist daughter of Silco can become their hero, maybe their former oppressor can become one of their greatest allies.

Caitlyn's Similarities To Vi's Loved Ones:

This is an interesting one! I honestly had never even considered this sort of thing but when I started digging there are many qualities of those Vi loves that are all collected with Caitlyn Kiramman. I'm sure you could do a massive list for this sort of thing so this is just some ones that stuck out to me.

Jinx:

The parallels between these two characters have become quite well known at this point and for good reason. Their intertwining stories are a massive part of this show and impact both of their characters greatly. But in terms of her connection to Vi, I have one I really want to focus on.

Putting Vi First: Both Jinx and Caitlyn go through a tremendous amount of suffering over the course of this story. Their stories are so in-depth, and complex and layered. And over the course of their stories, they both hurt Vi terribly (obviously there is more to it, there is a lot of nuance to these situations and I'm not dumping on Caitlyn or Jinx. Just staying on topic). But for two characters who are at one point almost sworn enemies, when it comes to addressing the pain of one they love, they are remarkably similar.

Caitlyn- So much happens between Caitlyn and Vi. But when it comes down to it, with Vi angry over Jinx's imprisonment and Caitlyn and Vi still far from totally reconciled, how does Cait makes things right? She gives Vi the choice. She clears the way for her to free Jinx if she chooses. Even knowing that that Vi could take Jinx and vanish forever if she chose, and Caitlyn would never hold Vi in her arms again. She puts Vi first. Even though it could be the end of her.

Jinx- Good lord talk about complicated. The relationship between the sisters is beautiful and heartbreaking in equal measure. There is so much on both sides, but when the moment I want to discuss comes, Vi has come to free Jinx from prison. Jinx knows that Vi has lived a life, consumed by guilt over everything that has occurred. Vi has never allowed herself to choose her own happiness for a variety of reasons. So what does Jinx do? She forces Vi to let her go. She locks her in the cell and gives Vi the permission Vi would never have been able to give herself. She tells her she deserves to be happy, to be with Caitlyn. Because in that moment of terrible sorrow even with all that Jinx is suffering, her eyes are finally opened to how much she loves Vi, and how much Vi loves her.

2. Vander:

Much like Vi and Caitlyn, at first glance it seems almost laughable to try and find common ground between "The Hound Of The Underground", and "The Leader Of House Kiramman". But if we really dig into it, the similarities emerge. In fact far more than I ever would have guessed.

A: Both do something they regret in a moment of deep loss and pain to someone they love.

Vander- We really are never given all the specifics, but whatever Silco became, Vander completely owned his regret and remorse over trying to take Silco's life.

Caitlyn- In that horrible moment after ventilation chamber battle, Caitlyn clubs the woman she loves in the stomach with her rifle stock and abandons her crying in the dark. I could write pages on the evidence of her remorse (and have written quite a bit) but you get the idea.

B: Both can see the truth of Vi's worth.

Vander- "You have a good heart. Don't ever lose it. No matter how the world tries to break you"

Caitlyn- "Despite it all I can tell.. you have a good heart"

This is especially impactful given Vi's struggle to see the worth and value in this part of herself as her story continues.

C: "When people look up to you, you don't get to be selfish.. whatever happens. It's on you".

Vander- At the moment he is in Silco's clutches, facing death. Vander does not beg for his life. He simply asks Silco to spare the lanes. Spare the Undercity. His self sacrifice continues all through the heartbreaking series of events that follow. Attacking the shimmer mutant, taking shimmer himself to save Vi, and blocking Vi's body with own during the fall.

Caitlyn- Now of course, it would be completely out of character for Caitlyn. But thinking about in strictly what is possibly, Caitlyn had just about any other option if she did not want to stay and fight Ambessa. Let alone on the front line. She knows she played a part it everything going so wrong, and rather than using her wealth and power to escape the fighting, she plants her feet and faces down the devil who almost took her soul forever. Never-mind the fact that she rips that knife out of her own body to help finish Ambessa, knowing full well that may well be the end of her.

*Caitlyn laying down her hate for Jinx in favor of her love for Vi works here as well*

Caitlyn's Reflection Of The Leaders Of Zaun:

Each of the three here have in some way shape or form been leaders to the people of the Undercity. And for a character who became such a figure of oppression to the people of Zaun, Caitlyn Kiramman shares a lot with all three of these figures. We have discussed Vander and Jinx. But I wanted to talk about Silco for a moment:

Finding "Strength" out of pain:

Silco- In the wake of Vander's betrayal, he reinvents himself. Believing only in the strength needed to destroy those he views as his enemy. Even if it means betraying every ideal he ever had.

Caitlyn- In the wake of her mothers loss and her separation from Vi, she becomes someone the old her would have despised under Ambessa's tutelage. Becoming a better fighter, gaining "control" over two cities, and learning to be ruthless. But in fact surrendering everything about her that made her who she is.

The Difference however, is Caitlyn sees the truth. Because of a variety of factors she sees how far she is fallen and that she has betrayed her belief and her ideals. She sheds her own blood alongside those willing to fight for her to protect all people regardless of the city of their birth. She finds the true strength that Silco couldn't.

Conclusion:

Sorry for the GIF-a-palooza but every time I think about her character her story gets me more and more. She truly goes through so much, learns, changes, falls down and picks herself back up. Thank you again to @phoenixlionme for this opportunity to delve deeper into her character and get me thinking in ways I hadn't considered! I hope some of this may lend itself to peoples understanding of this incredible character and if not hopefully at least the enjoyment of the show. Thank you to anyone taking time out of your day in this mad world to read the writing of a grouchy nerd like me. You will probably never know how much I appreciate it.

Keep standing up for stories that matter. See ya next time.

[mikkomacko]

Imagine nicos reaction when one of the boys accidentally hits reader while they’re messing around playing and maybe she gets a black eye or something, it’d totally be Jack lol

“When do I hit record?”

Jack rolls his eyes, cheeks puffed with a mouthful of water. He looks at you in disbelief, motioning to Nico as if to say ‘really? This is your man?’

You laugh, water bottle in hand and turn to your boyfriend. Eyebrows furrowed in focus, his large hands hold you phone up to record the latest TikTok you and Jack wanted to do.

Ever since the car incident Nico insists on being present for any videos you try to make with the boys. Which works out because he’s camera shy but makes a really good tripod.

“Just as soon as I take a drink of water,” you explain, trying not to laugh at him. Jack and him went over what to do extensively, but it’s cute that Nico is so concerned with getting it right.

“Ok,” he nods, and you take a deep breath, turning back to Jack. Lifting the bottle to your lips, you fill your cheeks with water and set it back onto the counter.

Hoping to god Nico hit record, you wait for Jack to nod. He’s already trying not to spit out his water, blue eyes shining with laughter and you pull back your arm. Swinging forward you smack him with the tortilla in your hand, doubling over when he makes a choked noise.

Water drips messily from between your lips but you haven’t broken yet, so you straighten out again. Tense, you watch anxiously as Jack winds up too and smacks you with his tortilla.

Muffled giggles and water dripping everywhere, you and Jack hit each other again. It’s going well, better than you thought and you’re actually surprised Jack hasn’t spit water all over you. So you’re kind of off guard when Jack winds up again and swings for your face.

Except in his suppressed hysterical laughter he miscalculated and instead of hitting you in the cheek with his tortilla, he’s balled fist catches you in the eye.

It’s not a hard it really, just enough to have you seeing a flash of stars when you flinch away from him. You spit out your water, spraying it all over Jack as you drop your tortilla and grab at the sore spot on your head.

Jack chokes on his water, coughing and trying to blabber something to you. Not that he gets a chance because your human tripod has put the phone down and stepped between you two.

“I’m ok, I’m ok,” you promise, blinking a few times as Nico comes into focus. He grabs your face, fingers gentle as he tilts your chin up to look at him. Even now your eyelid feels swollen, throbbing and tender.

Jack must have caught you just right.

Nico doesn’t look angry, more annoyed as he softly prods at your face. You wince, grabbing at his wrists.

“S’gonna bruise,” he mutters, then he’s turning to Jack, hands on his hips. The boy is still sucking in ragged breathes, trying to calm down after hacking up water. His cheeks are red, eyes wide and terrified.

“Nico it was an accident,” he says, voice raw and begging. “M’sorry, I am really. I didn’t mean-“

“Shut up,” Nico interrupts, reaching behind him for you. You let him pull you forward, right in front of Jack who’s looking at you with puppy dog eyes. “Say sorry to her.”

“I’m sorry y/n,” Jack apologizes, earnest.

“It’s ok Jack,” you assure, laughing slightly. “Really it’s not bad.”

Jack winces. “It looks bad.”

That has Nico reaching over your shoulder, grabbing at Jack’s collar and he tries to scramble away from Nico. He’s too strong though, moving around the both of you until he’s standing behind Jack, large hands on his shoulders.

“Nico please, no. What are you- I’m sorry!” Jack begs and Nico just nods at you over the top of his head.

“Your turn baby,” he says and Jack freezes.

“W-what?”

Nico grip on him tightens. “You hit her, she hits you.”

Jack lets out a whining moan, squeezing his eyes shut and flinching back into Nico’s body. Every muscle in his body tightens, wound up and waiting. Your boyfriend nods at you again, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

Giggling, you ball up your fist and swing, not hard enough to actually hurt him but Jack yelps with you catch him in the cheekbone. Nico releases him and he leaps away, holding his cheek as he hides on the far side of the counter.

“That really hurt!” He cries, looking at you, scandalized.

“Oh you’re fine,” Nico grumbles, taking ahold of your face again. He examines it, eyebrows pinching in annoyance as he strokes over your eyebrow. “Lucky it wasn’t me that took a swing at you.”

Jack huffs, the red spot on his cheekbone shining against his pale skin and you giggle. Nico chuckles too, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s get you some ice baby.” He moves to the fridge, and you follow behind him, pleased to be under the watchful eye of Dr. Nico.

“Me too please?” Jack asks. Nico glares over his shoulder at the boy. You don’t have to turn around to know Jack has scrambled his way out of the kitchen.

[notpixl]

HSR Character Drabbles (Ft. The Stellaron Hunters & The IPC)

Had to change the title since like the realizing part is kind of restricting my headcanoning ahh and I want to just-

Your honor just kill me I just wanna write 🫠

GN!Reader as per usual

And if there was a Title to describe this whole bananza then it’s: What do they do when they’re in love with You?

But it feels… you know what? Just enjoy this mess.

Also! Established Relationships for Topaz and Aventurine. I would’ve gone insane by the time I had something for them that isn’t in the relationship phase…

—————

———

—————

Kafka

She’s “somewhat” clingy

Been like this ever since she’s laid her eyes on you

You just bring a… certain charm that makes her enamored

And this feeling soon devolved into something more…

I wouldn’t say worse but…

It reaches to the point where she cherishes every moment with you

Be it longer hugs

Her hands intertwined with yours at any chance she gets

Or a few more minutes just so she can lay in bed you a little bit longer (the whole one room one bed is orchestrated by her, of course)

You’re just…

Mm…

She just wants to be with you

Every second

Smile for her, will you? Just once? It’ll get her going

Silver Wolf

Holed up in her room

Otome games stacked beside her

Reading text at near light speeds as if it isn’t even difficult

And once she meets her own reflection from the end credits…

She concludes that it isn’t enough

…she wants everything to go right

Not to make an embarrassment of herself

It has her spiraling downwards and staying up for days until you’re told by Kafka to check in on her

Her eyes flutter open

Words of concern spill out of your mouth

She’s not even listening to you

Just…

Wondering if these hands on her shoulders are real or not

Thankfully she does get ahold of her senses and willingly heads to bed

Not before having more… thoughts

Damn can she be just normal for once-

Tip for Boss: Give her a hug

Blade

Sort of good news…?

He’s in love

Bad news?

He’s in love

He goes to such lengths in distancing himself from you, often taking missions that’ll definitely take a month or two to finish…

It’s only when Elio and Kafka step in with these countless missions that he begrudgingly takes in your presence again

Though… some part of him appreciates your company

Even if one day you…

Well…

Let’s just ignore that for a second

All that matters now…

Is that you’re here

Side note: Ruffle his hair at least once or twice a week.

Pretty please.

Firefly

She’ll be fine she says!

Cues to her trying to get a grip of everything the moment you wave at her

Firefly is… a mess to put it at words

Girlfailure if you will

From spacing out just by calling her name or her brain needing a reboot when you hold her hand

Heck, even Kafka and Silverwolf are teasing her about this!

But… she isn’t afraid to improve

Because one day

She’ll have the courage to…

To ask if you’re fine with eating cake rolls with her…

…

Doesn’t that just sound like a date-

Fun fact: She will stay still as a rock if you lay your head on her shoulder. Use this for whatever you want

Aventurine

Countless paper bags scattered across thr living room

You don’t deny these gifts of course it’s just…

You know

You’re not used to this

This amount of…

Appreciation

So, who would’ve thought that one day…

He decides to visit you!

Without warning!

…How did he even know your addre-

Right, your wallet…

That aside he’s just…

Standing there

Processing what’s in front of him right now

“…do you want more?”

“Wh-what?”

“Do you want a mansion instead?”

“Navi, can you get ahold of yourself please-

Call him nicknames. Makes him a tomato.

Topaz

Lap Pillows

And also Numby laying on your tummy

This has been an occasional thing whenever the weekend comes by

There’s also a switch in roles! And it happens quite often during weekdays when she comes home from work

Which lets you pepper her with kisses, leaving her a blushing mess afterwards

She’ll also fake getting sick just so she can be enveloped by your lovey dovey hugs just a bit longer

Though that always ends in her grumpily heading back to work…

“I miss my S/O, Numby…” She says as she closes the front door

Tip: If you kiss her then keep kissing her then make out and head to fourth base did you know she’ll be really needy an

Dr Ratio

After countless research and conducting…

Does he finally come up with a solution

…

A change in attitude

His rather… harsh demeanor would only lead to distancing yourself from him

Which explains itself very well in not having a chance at expressing his feelings for you

…but he’ll do what he can

Big or small

So long as you see him…

The way he sees you

Then writing this Thesis about Love isn’t so bad after all

I.E. Dr. Ratio turns soft for your sake and everyone else’s

…

“What’s this?”

“Tea. I thought you might need it for the gargantuous amount of paperwork.”

“Thanks… are you sure you aren’t possessed?”

“Why the assumption…?”

“You’re smiling.”

…

….

…

Yell at me if I did something bad for anyone in thi sob drabble :(

And that if this gets more than eleven likes I will have to acknowledge the fact that people like this

[edenl0vesu]

Bandaids

Neighbor! Bucky barnes x single mother!reader

Civil war bucky happens to be the loml and my ovaries are SCREAMING as i write this.!!

Warnings: nsfw content, oral (f receiving), 1st person smut 😋, pussy spanking…., praise, soft bucky, slight choking, uhhhh what else…

Single motherhood wasn’t for the weak, with a 6 year old daughter in a small apartment. I was near constantly stressed, it didn’t help that things kept breaking and my piece of shit landlord had been dodging me every time l brought up my broken heater- and the broken kitchen sink. I decided today while Angelina was at school l could use this time to catch up on some laundry. Of course running out of coins for the machines far too fast, because why wouldn’t i, so here i was. Stuck hauling stuff back up to the top floor from the basement. By the time i got to the top i was honestly considering just jumping off.

I was rudely were yanked from my thoughts when i bumped into something so firm. For a second i thought it was a wall- that thought was immediately corrected when you felt a hand under my arm stabilizing me. I blinked before looking up and saw it was my neighbor. He had his usual hat on- really ive only seen him a few times but each time he was just as hidden as the last. “oh! Im sorry.” I said quickly going to grab your basket i dropped. “No worries.” It was quick and blunt, yet he reached down faster to grab the basket for me. Handing it over and grunting a little as he walked down the stairs— ookkkaaayyy. Weird.

—

Of course that wasnt the last i saw of my mysterious neighbor. My daughter was adamant on rushing to the park, she was shooting out of the door before i could even think about stopping her. I sighed before walking out to see her on the ground with tears welling in her big ol eyes. She had tripped, though before i could get to her i saw the same neighbor help her up and say something that made her grin widely. He could be seen looking around for a parent— i felt all the air leave my lungs when we made eye contact.. okay weird again. I just decided to brush it off and go up to my daughter, “you okay sunshine?” She just looked up at me with a big smile and quick nod. Not giving anything else before she began pulling me, off to the park.

It wasn’t until later that night o realized he had given her a bandaid for her knee. See i knew she couldnt have gotten one from the apartment because she was very adamant on only getting the unicorn ones at the store. Yet she had a big normal bandaid on her knee. That made alone could make my ovaries scream and try to take over.

—

It was 5 minutes later than when my daughter usually gets home- she takes the bus home and walks up, she had her own key and everything. So of course my mind goes to the worst possible thing, rushing out of my apartment only to see her walking up the stairs and chatting your neighbors ear off.

“Mommy says the land…….person… was a fat lazy good for nothing douche bag. She told me not to say that word but she says hes a mean man for avoiding her about our heat thingy. Its cold in my house- is it cold in your house?” Shame built inside of me as daughter yapped and yapped- telling this stranger all our information no doubt.

“Mommaa!!” She squealed when she saw me, her hand was holding onto the sleeve of the same neighbors shirt. She let go to run to me and i caught her in my arms to give her a big hug, “go inside and get washed up i have your favorite in the oven.” I said before giving her a little kiss on her forehead.

Once she was inside i shifted on your feet a little, “I’m sorry about her, she really likes talking.” I said with a little chuckle.

“Shes a sweet kid.” He said a but gruffly, “im bucky.” He said out of nowhere. “Oh im Y/n.”

“I know.”

My face must’ve screamed confusion and red flags because he followed up quickly, “she told me-“ i relaxed at that.

With that we both slipped into our respective apartments.

—

The landlord had came the next day to get my stuff all fixed, though he looked tense- very tense. Not that i cared. It was finally warm in the apartment again.

“Momma can we go to the park??” My daughter was at my legs and was looking up at you with those big pleading eyes and i knew you couldnt say no. I never could and she knew that.

It seemed every time i left your apartment now i had see him- Bucky. “Bucky!” Like always Angelina was chipper and waved at him. His scowl transformed into a small little smile. He gave her a little wave. “Wanna come with us to the park??” She asked him with the same big pleading eyes she had used on me moments before.

Though he looked at me as if to ask permission, every part of me was screaming at me to say no. To say you shouldn’t invite your strange and mysterious neighbors to go places with you. No matter how hot they happened to be.

My uterus had other plans at seeing how much my daughter truly liked this man, i gave a little nod. He looked down and gave her a nod, “sure i would be delighted.” Thats the most i think ive ever heard him speak.

Me and bucky watched from a distance while my daughter played on the monkey bars. “Did the landlord come by finally?” He asked me after some silence.

“Yeah- how did you know.?” I found myself filled with confusion again, this is the second time in the past few weeks hes given me that feeling.

“I spoke to him. A mother and kid shouldnt be without heat during this weather.” He said gruffly, it made heat travel up your spine and a blush crept up my neck. And before i could even get my response out he spoke again, “sorry it I overstepped.” His hand went to the back of his neck almost nervously.

“No no thank you. Hes been dodging me so. It was helpful.” A smile forming on my face. Angelina was rushing over and holding her hand out. “I got hurt.” Her lip jutted out and she looked up at the two of us with teary eyes. She had a callus that was peeling- ouch. I reached for my purse to see if i had a bandaid, none. “Im sorry sunshine we’re gonna have to go home if you want a bandaid. Im out.” I smiled sadly as her and the tears in her eyes got more prominent, “but i wanna stay.” She whined.

“Here.” He was blunt as he pulled out a bandaid from his little fannypack. “I always keep some on me.”

“Thank you Mr.bucky!” Angelinas smile came back and relief rushed over me. I helped her put the bandaid on and watched as she rushed back to continue playing. I wasn’t going to mention how he had been carrying around space bandaids with stars and shit on it. “Thank you- again.”

—

Angelina was at her grandparents for a week of her Christmas break. So i was alone- i always forgot how lonely things got when she wasnt here. Day one was just stupid romcoms on tv after doing my work. Working from home was the biggest blessing.

Day two though, my mind kept going back to bucky. He had come with us to the park more often as of late and i cant deny im growing fond of him, so thats how i found myself in my bed. A small purple toy buzzing between my thighs, my right hand circling the toy on my clit, and my other hand covering my mouth. My eyes clenched shut and i thought about him- the way he fills out his shirts, his piercing stare, his gentle tone with my daughter.

Buckys pov 🤭🤭

Fuck. What have i gotten myself into. I wasnt someone she would want in her life if she knew who i was. What ive done. But the kid clung to me like a leech and the first time the kid gave me that little smile i knew i was fine with that. Then the first time i saw y/n blushing i knew i was done for, i couldnt stop myself from getting close.

Maybe i shouldve but how could i when such a pretty girl had a sweet kid who apparently liked me. Though now i feel like im crossing some lines. My room was adjacent to y/ns room. I had figured that out fast enough. So here i was, clenching my eyes shut as i tried to ignore her moans, i can hear her from here. Im not trying to creep on her but fuck. My cock is hard as fuck and literally pulsing with need. I ignored it best as I could until i heard her moaning a little louder. My name falling from her lips.

My resolve snapped and i reached my hands down my boxers tugging down only enough to pull myself out. I knew i wouldn’t last long when my thumb splayed over the head, smearing precum around to use as lube. My hand tightened around my cock and i imagined it was her throat. Stroking slowly and i came embarrassingly fast, like i was a teenager again. I was spilling all over my hand to the thought of her.

your pov

Seeing him when i got back to my apartment w what i expected and my face flushed- a reminder of last night, my thoughts about him. “Hey Bucky.” I greeted- he was just getting back as well. “Hey, y/n.”

Silence for a beat… then two. Before i blurted, “want a beer?” I raised the 6 pack i had just bought. I could see his eyes look me over- slowly- like he was taking me in. “I wouldn’t say no.” He said, closing his door. I opened mine and he let himself in.

“Please make yourself at home.” I said shrugging off my jacket and shoes. Setting the case of beer on my table and stealing a glance at him. He pulled his cap off and for the first time i’d seen him without his hat. He was gorgeous. I wish i was lying but he was truly gorgeous. I grabbed two beers and popped them open. Settling myself on my couch and placing his beer on the coffee table for him.

He shrugged his jacket off and holy shit i don’t know whether i noticed the fact he had a full fucking metal arm or the fact he had more muscle than i had previously thought. I looked away quickly as to not ogle him. He sat down next to me and grabbed his beer. Taking a swig from the bottle. What i said before about not ogling him immediately went out the window when i saw him sitting manspread on my couch.

“What do you like watching?” I asked as i flicked my tv on. “I dont watch tv.” He said simply. “Anything you like is fine.”

“Like ever?” I pushed the no tv thing with a little giggle. “Yeah- like ever. Ive never been a fan.” He said softly, leaning back against the couch a little more.

“Well clearly you’ve never watched school of rock. It will change your mind.” I grinned as i put my all time favorite movie on. I turned up the volume and propped a leg up on my couch.

Somewhere during the movie we had shifted closer to eachother and his metal hand had ended up on my thigh. I gasped at the cold metal, not minding.

“Shit sorry that was-“ he said removing his hand quickly put i pulled it back to my thigh, “its fine- i dont mind.” I instinctively had leaned closer to him and my side rested against his. We went back to watching the movie when his fingers started dancing along my thigh, tracing shaped and making goosebumps rise on my skin. His hand shifted upwards more, i cant tell if it was intentional or not but he was dangerously high on my leg. Any higher and he would feel just how wet i was.

Near the end of the movie he hadnt moved his hand any further. “Bucky..” my voice was quiet, a surge of confidence consuming me. He looked over, “yeah doll?” My stomach churned at his sudden use of the petname. I didnt say anything- instead opting to grab him by the back of the neck and pulling his lips to mine. It was everything i was hoping it was.

Fuck what was i doing- i started to pull away but his flesh hand came to grab me by the neck to keep me there. Embarrassingly enough that was enough to make a moan fall from my lips. His hand shifted again. He pulled away for a moment before speaking, “can i touch you malýsh?” He was pleading, literally begging to touch you.

I nodded quickly but he applied some soft pressure to my throat, “words, malýsh“ he was different than his brooding quiet self, and the gentle and soft version he showed my daughter. “Yes- please.” I whispered breathily.

His lips crashed against mine again and his hand slipped up my thigh to brush his fingers over my mound. My hips immediately pressing down to get more. He pulled his hand away immediately- leaving me breathily whining into the kiss. He tugged my sweatpants off quickly though, the cold metal of his fingers returning to cup my pussy. His fingers sliding over the wet fabric of my panties, he groaned and his head fell to my shoulder. He peppered kisses and bites along the skin, “so wet.” He said after looking down and seeing the slick that had collected on his fingers.

He laid me back against the couch and spread my legs, one thing was already very clear to me- this man had experience. He tugged my panties off and his metal hand returned to my folds and ran along them until his fingers hooked on my clit. I moaned out loudly as his fingers rubbed small tight circles on my clit. My head falling to the side to avoid looking at him, he didnt like that. His flesh hand coming to pinch my cheeks in his hand, “eyes on me. Or I’ll stop.” I complied immediately- though i could tell by the near animalistic look in his eyes he wouldnt stop- not when hes enjoying this just as much as i am.

He cooed shamelessly against me,

“taking it so well.”

“My pretty girl.”

“Doing so good for me.”

“Keep your legs open”

I was shamelessly chasing my own high as his fingers continued to circle my clit, though he shifted down so his lips connected to my thigh, his fingers sifting away from my clit and he worked two fingers inside my entrance. I clenched around them because the sensation was unlike anything ive ever felt. He bit my thigh and i had to hold back a moan, his tongue came to soothe the spot before he moved further down to suck at my clit. My hands threaded in his hair and tugged, shamelessly bucking my hips to get closer. He pulled away and his other hand let go of my thigh to deliver three short and firm slaps to my pussy. By the third one my vision went white with how hard i had came.

….

…

Jesus christ. What have i gotten myself into.

[angstywaifu]

Not Enough - Liam Mairi

Request: Would you maybe do a soft smut slash angst with liam where reader gets hurt in a challenge and storms off belittling herself and getting so down because her parents would have expected more from her and it all comes to a head when liam runs after her and she blows up on him screaming about how stupid she is and how she isn't enough and liam like shuts her up by kissing her and showing her that she is enough and how amazing she is - @elliot-rain

Masterlist | Support Me

The impact of landing on the mat runs through me as I lie there stunned, the pain in my leg barely noticeable. Shit. They were going to be disappointed me if they found out I got hurt and lost. I could already hear the lecture in my head.

”How could you lose?”

”You could do so much better.”

”You have a family name and reputation to uphold.”

I push myself up as best I can, ignoring the hand my opponent holds out to me. I couldn’t show weakness. I needed to be strong, even as my leg screamed at me to take the help. I limp off the mat, the crowd of riders parting to let me through.

”You ok?” Violet asks as I pass her.

I stop and turn to look at her, doing my best to hide my grimace. “Yeah, just going to go rest for a bit. I’ll be good.”

She purses her lips, but eventually nods at me. She clearly sees through me. She always does when one of us gets hurt. She knows what pain is like better than any of us, so it’s hard to hide from her when we are in pain. Before she can stop me, I turn around and do my best to walk out of the room. Now my challenge was done, I didn’t technically need to stay, meaning I had at least an hour till my next class. An hour to think over my mistakes, to explain them to my parents once they found out and no doubt demanded to see me somehow. For any other rider, losing on the mat would just be a bad day or their opponent just being better than them. But that wasn’t an option for me. My entire life I was taught to be perfect. No mistakes, no errors. Mistakes were punished, a lesson that they were not to be made again. I had a legacy to uphold.

I’m too lost in my thoughts to hear the rushed footsteps behind me until movement out of the corner of my eye startles me, causing me to jump and aggravate my leg, a pained hiss escaping my lips through gritted teeth.

”Shit, what happened?” Liam asks hurriedly as his eyes scan over me, his hands resting on my arms as he steadies me.

”A mistake, that's what happened.” I say as I avert my eyes from his.

I see him furrow his brow out of the corner of my eye, clearly confused at my words. “Mistake? Things happen all the time in challenges. It was nothing. You’ll come back better and stronger next week.”

I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut as tears threaten to break free as my emotions bubble over the edge. “To me it’s not nothing” I mutter out, part of me hoping he doesn’t hear, but I know he does.

”It is nothing Y/N. No one in there is going to care you lost a challenge. It happens.” He almost pleads to me, and I know if I open my eyes his blue eyes will be soft and caring.

”It’s not the people in there I’m worried about.” I say as I open my eyes, a tear rolling down one of my cheeks.

Liam reaches out to wipe it away, but I knock his hand away before limping over to one of the few cut outs in the wall, looking out into the empty Rotunda.

”I come from a family where I have certain expectations to meet. An image to live up to. Nothing but the best is tolerated. Anything less than perfect is….”

”Is what?” Liam's voice soft but demanding from behind me.

”Punished.” I say as I look at him over my shoulder, watching the colour from his face drain. “Anything less than perfect, than one hundred percent isn’t tolerated.”

”You’re safe here, they can’t pun-”

”Yes they can!” I yell as I turn on Liam, wincing as my leg protests at the sudden movement. “I am not safe behind these walls. They provide no protection from what they will do if they find out how stupid I was to let myself lose! They provide no protection from being told I am not good enough. That if anything I do is less than perfect will never be enough. I’m not en-”

Liam’s lips crash against mine, cutting off my frantic words. The heat of his kiss swallows the air from my lungs, silencing every self-deprecating thought spiralling in my mind. For a moment, I’m too stunned to move, too caught off guard to process what’s happening. But then the warmth of his hands, one cupping my cheek and the other steadying my trembling arm, grounds me.

The world falls away—the walls, the fear, the doubts—all of it fades into the background. All I can focus on is him: the way his touch feels steady, the way his kiss feels like a promise, fierce yet tender, as if he’s trying to piece me back together with every brush of his lips.

When he pulls back, his forehead presses against mine, and his breath fans across my face. His hands don’t leave me; instead, they grip tighter, as if afraid I’ll shatter the moment he lets go.

“You’re enough,” he says softly, his voice rough but resolute. “You’ve always been enough. Stop doubting yourself, because I won’t let you tear yourself apart anymore.”

I blink up at him, my chest heaving from more than just the kiss. “Liam, I—”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice firm now. “Listen to me. You are stronger than you think. You’ve faced so much, and you’re still standing. You are more than good enough, and no one—no one—gets to make you feel otherwise. Not even you.”

Tears sting my eyes, but for once, they’re not from pain or frustration. They’re from the raw, unrelenting belief in his voice, in his gaze as he looks at me like I’m worth fighting for.

“I’m scared,” I whisper, my voice breaking.

“I know,” he says, his thumb brushing a stray tear from my cheek. “But you don’t have to do this alone. Not anymore. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Something inside me shifts, loosens, as his words sink in. For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight pressing on my chest lightens, just a little. And for now, that’s enough.

[peachhcs]

I feel like Will could be a little shit sometimes, like we know he’s down badddd for Samy but I feel like sometimes when they haven’t seen each other for a while he’s determined to keep her close.

She’s trying to get up for the day? Lays his entire body on top of her, she’s trying to get dressed? Her clothes keep going missing, like he’s taking a sock and making her feel crazy because she knows she JUST sat them down.

He’s doing Anything he can to keep her at his side.

will is definitely doing everything he can to keep samy from leaving his side. he follows her around like a puppy honestly. samy likes to say he has separation anxiety sometimes

au masterlist

it was already 11 when samy finally woke up. she hadn't slept in that much in forever. she stretched out, but she didn't move that far because a strong pair of arm were wrapped securely around her torso. beside her was will still fast asleep, his face basically hidden in the crook of her neck. the girl smiled, reaching her hand up to tease some of his curls in her fingers.

she loved when he was always so close after not seeing one another in awhile. if he could, will would spend every second of the day by her side.

samy laid there for a few minutes just admiring her boyfriend's soft, sleepy features and playing with his hair. he didn't sleep with a shirt on last night, so she also got to admire his muscles peaking out of the covers. he was always fit, but his time with the sharks the last few months really worked in his favor. samy loved it.

she loved how he looked no matter what, but she really loved seeing his muscular arms in his t-shirts and built quads through his pants. it was literally every girl's dream.

after another few minutes, samy really needed to pee. she always had to when she woke up, but will's hold on her was pretty strong. she tried detaching his arms from her without waking him up. the blonde stirred and only pulled her closer to his body despite not waking up.

samy huffed. she poked will's cheek, "will, i really gotta pee."

he mumbled something incoherent.

"please, i have to pee so badly," the girl tried again and finally, will loosened his grip. samy took that as her chance and literally jumped out of bed to run to the bathroom.

when she came out will was still sprawled across the bed. the girl grinned and crawled back over to him where he finally poked his eye open.

"you left me," he grumbled.

"i had to pee. i'm sorry," samy laughed at his pout. he reached his arms out and made grabby hands as an indication that he wanted samy back in the bed. she got herself back in and will was quick to wrap his arms around her like before.

"did you sleep well?" the blonde wondered.

"i did. did you?" samy played with his curls again.

"i always sleep well with you," he hummed making her blush.

"what do you wanna do today?" the soccer player wondered and laughed when all will did was snuggle in closer.

"lay here with you all day."

"i wouldn't complain, but i feel like we should do something. it is like 11:15," samy said.

"so?" will didn't see what the problem was. he didn't have hockey for two days, so that meant he could use one of the days to do absolutely nothing. it was even better because samy was in town.

"we should at least eat something. i'm kind of hungry," just as the youngest hughes said that, her stomach rumbled.

"i know what you can eat," the hockey player earned a smack on the head for that comment.

"will."

"i'm kidding. i'm kidding," he lifted his head back up so samy could see the smirk on his lips.

"you're so immature," she rolled her eyes.

the brunette began pushing herself back up because she seriouly needed to eat something, but when she made a move to get up, will threw his entire body across her leaving her unable to get up or even move.

samy let out an oof, "hey!"

"you can't leave," will determined.

"i'm not leaving you this time. you can come with me to get food," the girl laughed.

“i don’t wanna leave the bed,” the hockey player mumbled. his weight was a bit crushing, but samy was used to it after being crushed and tackled by her older brothers growing up. she curled her arms around his back where she began drawing her fingers up and down his spine.

“you don’t wanna eat something?” the girl wondered and she was surprised to hear that will wasn’t already up looking for food.

“i’d rather lay in bed with you all day then go downstairs,” will said and samy couldn’t help but laugh. he was so adorable.

“okay, five more minutes but after that we need to eat something because i’m starving,” she compromised.

they laid there together with will’s crushing weight and he marveled in being so close to her. his favorite part of spending time with his girlfriend was being able to be so close to her and wake up to her at his side.

the five minutes passed way too quickly. the blonde reluctantly rolled off of samy so she could finally get up. he huffed and pushed himself off the bed as the girl found an actual shirt and pajama pants to put on. will threw on a random shirt on the floor and then snatched one of samy’s socks on the ground before she could find it. he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pressing little kisses to the side of her head.

“i wonder sometimes how you survive without me,” the brunette mumbled seeing the state of will’s very messy room.

“i don’t,” he said.

“remind me that we’re cleaning your room before i leave again,” the girl giggled and became confused when she couldn’t find her other sock she swore she threw onto the ground by the bed last night.

will watched in amusement knowing he had the sock. “where’s my sock?”

“what do you mean?” he played dumb.

“i swear i had both socks by the bed,” she bent down to check under the bed where she unfortunately found more miscellaneous things underneath.

“maybe they got mixed in with something?” the blonde hummed. samy stood back up and eyed her boyfriend. he had a really bad poker face when it came to her so she always saw right through him.

“will, did you take my other sock?”

“no.”

they stared at each other for a second before the youngest hughes lunged for his pockets. will yelped when she stuffed her hands in both front pockets and successfully found her missing sock. will pouted.

“that wasn’t fair,” he argued.

“you’re so weird. come on,” she tugged his hand and they started down the steps to the kitchen.