#but i love the idea of her being a vulture

[apple-eating-goat]

Ok...

RWVAU:

A Heartfelt Proposal

Digital Phoenix

Now I’m Stuck Rotting Six Feet Under (requires rewrite)

Now, It Remains A Dream, A Distant Memory That Itches My Brain

Pink Lemonade

Gift of the River

Motor Oil and Chamomile

Yellow Carnations In Straw Stubble

Sick sucks

I project my intrusive thoughts onto Hunter

Facility Files

Legend Has It That When the Rains Come Down, All the Worms Come Up to Breathe

Pink Lemonade Music

Lake Monsters

Flame and Flood

All We Did Was Kiss on My Grave, I Swear

And We Will Pick Apart Your Mind as You Are Breaking Down

I Never Wanted to Sleep

Hush Now

The Sun Will Sleep Tonight

Snuggles

Je Ne T'abandonnerai Jamais

So While You Think You’re Alone, You Cast Two Shadows Down The Road

Normal Coffee Shop Things

Heart’s Truth Might Lie

Snakeskin

And Yet I’m Left Still Wanting You

Candy Cane, Candy Cane (I Don’t Like Peppermint…)

Pick Out Your Heart With a Kitchen Fork

Give Me Back My Girlhood

Heartwood

ATLArti 2.0

What’s in a Name?

Cleanup, Cleanup, Everybody Cleanup!

And You Will Wake Up (And Wake Up, And Wake Up)

Golden Key

A Slice of Bitter Pie

So Many Ways to See the Sunrise

Moldy Pomegranate - Hunter death-centric loop(s?)

Miraculous AU

Hearts and Arrows

A Lesson Learnt

Deep in the Dark of the Woods Where Secrets Sleep

Title Not Needed

Fishnet

It's Wrong But I Want You Tonight

Now You’ll See Just Who the Prey is

Interview: survivor

Misc things:

Pathfinder chosen few AU

Lesbibabs

Kaelidoscope remake

Reach for the stars (Humans are space orcs AU)

Rain world x MLP

The Moon Will Sing a Song for Me, I’ve Loved You Like the Sun

Vampire AU that needs a name

Surprise!

Tables Turned

Wait, You’re Married?!

Break My Artificial Bones

Vulture’s Carrion Carol

Grab Fate By The Horns

Item Dialogue

Unnecessary crossover go brrr

Scug griffons

Oops I did it again (started a new AU) - mandalorian AU

Hush, little warrior

Survival

Blue Hyacinth

Parent-Teacher Meetings From the Void

Soulmate AU

The Arrow That Spears my Heart

Harvest Moon

Rw warrior cats fusion AU

Winds on her mom arc

Dammit I'm starting a new AU

Tombstone and a river

Everything moves, Everything pulses

Saint spearm angsty thingy

Letters From a Needle to a Spear

My Baby's Got A Gun

Brimstone and Beskar

Blood and Venom

No time to name gotta write crack

GIft of family but RW

Pepperstar

Megaptera novaeangliae

The walls of moss and mold

A price paid in flesh and blood

Queer scugs go brr

Seven Red Suns is not a licensed dentist

Bonus chapter for Visitor

name idea 404

Too sick to title

Golden crowns, Stained and broken

The reply saga: ao3 edition: chapter 1

Spearm swap

Trigona hypogea but chapter two

Hunter swap

Hunter is back from being dead and she's making it everybody else's problem

space raptor drabbles

Murder scugs but better

Vigilante au maybe prequel

NSH get send disturbing messages

Local old lady gives man traumatic flashback, more at seven

Introspection rewrite

Artihunter post-murder

Hunter yells at Pebbles

Werelizard hunter

Non-RW

Dragonblessed

Birds scary

Rewrite of the ancient cat scenes for aroace jayfeather

I too have a shit ton of 'WIP's that I've barely touched and I'm only 95% sure this is all of them

@candieduranium @jaydove-writes @whenitgrowsbright @starsofthestorm @king-darling

@buefried @bucket-of-grass @shroomy-tea @methoxyacetyltryptamine @kittysnails-things

@ruffy-ruffles @nebulius @paradox-crows @lavscavv @your-third-cat

ty @shoot-i-messed-up for inviting me (technically my main blog @light-the-spark-of-dawn but I realized that some of the people I'm gonna tag might not know that one) to this ask game

rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs

WIPs:

Kim & Kal

Ichibayashi

Uncle Hal

Branching Paths

@effietrinket1619 @ikibli @oceanicairways @aj-artjunkyard you've been drafted (no pressure) and anyone else who sees this and wants to play can also join in!

[cowboycatss]

hello. corvids in the zones tend to gather around folks who have experienced death or had a loved one with unfinished business die before their time. the girl always has crows hopping around after her when she’s out at the market or playing at gravel gertie’s orphanage, and when ghoul dies there’s always clusters of ravens roosting on the DI E of the defunct diner sign.

ougghhh... this fucks ... worse if you have no idea someone's died but suddenly there are crows following you around

[juniperskye]

That’ll Show Them.

Based on the following ask: 🥰 yay!! Okay. (Deep breath), so the idea was basically either preschool or elementary school setting. Hotch being a sexy single dad has most of the single (and not!) Moms drooling over him. Y/N or Reader is a single mom, not one of those drooling but definitely sees that he's attractive. But her kid (girl or boy) happens to quickly become Jack's BFF and this causes natural interactions and conversations between her and Hotch over the next few weeks which makes the other moms salty and jealous, and she overhears them at one point speculating that she probably told her kid to befriend Jack just so she could get closer to Hotch. I didn't really think of an ending for it but just had an idea of a scene where she's trying to remain calm and unaffected while overhearing them talking about her and giving side eye. Maybe Hotch hears it too and comes to her defense? Or makes them even saltier by asking her out in front of them? 😈 @nyxwolph thank you for requesting this! I did adjust a little bit, so I hope you like it!!

Aaron Hotchner x Single Mom! Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 3569

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, some explicit language, reader is a single mom, mention of divorce, school moms being shitty, mention of Hotch’s ex father-in-law being ill, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description other than being shorter than hotch, reader is mentioned/implied to own a shop (no details), gay best friend, Hotch starts work at 8am (idk what the BAU hours are lmao) let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

The moms were ruthless. You were barely three months into the school year and already you had been completely ostracized from the “mom group.” Part of you had assumed it was because the majority of these moms had all caught wind of your very public, messy divorce. The other part of you, however, knew that the main reason you’d been exiled was him.

Aaron HOTTIE Hotchner, as the other moms called him, had taken Ms. Jenson’s third grade class by storm. Meet the teacher night had been a frenzy of horny moms all praying their child ended up in the same class as Aaron’s son. There were hushed conversations and giggles, and hair flips all night long, you had felt bad for the teachers since their presentations had fallen second to the gossip travelling through the halls about the hot single dad.

“I heard he works for the FBI!”

“I heard he’s a widower. Could you even imagine?”

“Wow. He must be pretty amazing, a single dad and working for the FBI!”

“Can we be real for a moment and just admire how hot he is?”

“Did you see his hands?”

“Yes! Did you see his suit? I love a well-dressed man.”

They were vultures, every single one of them, and Aaron was their newest victim. He, of course, had been completely oblivious to the blatant flirting – he returned every advance they made with a kind smile or polite nod. And listen, you weren’t going to deny that Aaron was hot…you just weren’t trying to be like those other moms and gush about it at meet the teacher night.

Your being excluded by the class moms had only gotten worse since Jack and Millie had become friends. Millie had told you on the first day of school, that a boy had pushed her down on the playground, and before you could panic, she told you that a different boy…one named Jack…had helped her up. She said after that, they sat together at lunch and read aloud.

You could barely contain you excitement. Since the divorce, Millie had been having a tough time making friends – mainly because the moms told their kids to stay away. Your ex had been quite cozy with some of the moms at Millie’s last school and you had eventually found out he was sleeping with one of them. Once the divorce was finalized and you had full custody, you’d moved and that meant a new school for Millie.

Realistically that should’ve been the end of the drama, but it just so happens that the girl who your husband slept with…well her sister’s child was in the same class as Millie. He of course was the kid that pushed Millie down on the first day of school.

It shouldn’t have bothered you, their constant whispers���but it had you seething. This was an everyday occurrence now that you drove Jack home. The moms all waiting for dismissal engaging in hushed conversations about how desperate you must be.

“I bet she told her daughter to befriend his son.”

“What a sad way to get his attention.”

“Well, I mean, her ex did cheat…so she’s probably desperate.”

“She’s ridiculous if you ask me.”

This new development has begun exactly two weeks ago. Jack and Millie had been on their sixth playdate – this had been the first one Aaron had been able to host (due to work obvi) which had led to you staying and the two of you talking about how demanding his work schedule must be. He had told you it kept him pretty busy and that his sister-in-law had been extremely helpful, but with her father falling ill, she was growing increasingly busy.

“You know, I could drive Jack. If you’re comfortable with it.” You offered.

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you!” Aaron panicked.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t ask…I’m offering. I already have to drive to the school to get Millie, I could grab Jack and the two of them could hang out until you are off work. And if your sister-in-law ever can’t watch him while you’re away, know that I am more than willing.” You punctuated with a kind smile.

“What if I take them to school, I don’t need to be at work until eight, and then you could pick them up? That way it is even. Obviously when I’m out of town, which wouldn’t necessarily be possible, but I could coordinate with Jess and…” Aaron was spiraling.

“Aaron. If you want to take them to school when you’re in town, that would be great. That would allow me the time I need in the shop before opening. When you are out of town, if Jack is staying with me, I will take them to and from school – if he’s with Jess, she doesn’t have to worry about Millie okay?” You suggested.

“You’re a godsend. You know that?” Aaron said, a smile growing on his face.

“Yeah well, Jack has been an incredible friend to Millie, and I would love for them to spend more time together. Plus, the house has been so quiet and, I don’t know. It would be nice to have the kids there.” There was a slight cringe that was brought with the insinuation of your divorce.

“I appreciate it either way.” Aaron gently nudged your shoulder.

So, for the last two weeks, Aaron had been driving the kids to school and you had been picking them up. He shockingly had yet to be called on a case…but you knew it was only a matter of time.

Aaron was called away a few days later, he had let you know that Jess would be watching Jack. That had sent a tinge of pain right to your heart. In truth, you were attracted to Aaron, and the more time you spent with him, you were starting to fall for him. You tried not to focus too much on the fact that he’d sent Jack to stay with Jess…chalking up to the fact that Aaron probably didn’t want to burden you – even though he could never.

You didn’t hear from Aaron until nearly two weeks later.

A: Hey, we just got back from this case. I’ll pick Millie up in the morning for school. Are you good to pick up Jack after?

Y: Hey! Yeah I can pick them up tomorrow. I have to take Millie to get her cleats and shin guards for soccer, is it okay if Jack tags along?

A: I totally forgot soccer starts next weekend. If I sent some money in Jack’s backpack could you pick up his stuff too?

Y: Of course! Will you be late tomorrow?

A: Probably, after a case like this, there’s a lot of paperwork to be done. I will try to be there by 7pm if that’s okay.

Y: 7 is fine, we will get homework done and I will feed them and have Jack all ready for you!

A: Thank you. Seriously I don’t know what I’d do without you.

The next day you arrived at the school at 2:45 pm to pick up the kids. You parked your car like always and stood in wait with the other parents. You were checking your phone to see where the nearest sporting goods store was when one of the dads approached you.

“Hey, is Millie ready for soccer to start?”

“Oh, hey Scott! Yeah she is so excited! What about Macy?” You questioned.

“She’s nervous, but she told me she was glad Millie and Jack were playing too. Michael was really bummed that the girls weren’t in a class together this year.” Scott explained.

“I was too! How is Michael? We should all have dinner some time!” You suggested.

“He’s good, and I am sure he would love to have you and your new beau over for a meal – I will talk to him when we get home!” Scott beamed.

“New beau…what are you talking about? Do you mean Aaron? He and I, we’re not…” You stuttered.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay! You should be bragging to all those bitches that you bagged the hot DILF! Don’t let them spoil something good for you hon.” Scott gently squeezed your arm.

Just as you opened your mouth to reply, the kids came running out. Macy ran to hug her dad while Jack and Millie made their way to you. Both kids hugged you and then said their goodbyes to Macy. You moved to grab their hands and guide them to the car, but not without catching the glares from all the moms. They must’ve heard Scott and you talking…and while you and Aaron weren’t dating, it didn’t hurt to let them believe it for a bit.

After getting the kids soccer gear, you took them home and got them started on their homework and gave them some apple slices. You checked a few emails, changed the washer and dryer, and wrote up your grocery list in the meantime.

When they were done with their homework, you checked their work and then quizzed them on their spelling words. By then it was nearly 5:30 pm, you set the two of them up in the living room with a coloring book and some Legos while you got dinner started. You made some grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans – for the kids, you added some cheese to the potatoes and cut up the chicken – setting that on the table for them alongside a glass of chocolate milk.

“Kids, time for dinner!” You hollered.

“Coming mom!” Millie called.

You were about 10 minutes into dinner when a knock sounded from the front door. You excused yourself and walked over to let Aaron in.

“Hey, we were just having dinner, can I get you a plate?” You offered.

“Oh, as long as it’s not an imposition!” Aaron replied.

“Aaron, how many times do I have to tell you that it’s not an imposition. I like having you around.” You stopped abruptly, embarrassed that you’d let that slip. “I mean, you know, it’s nice that Millie and Jack are friends…I uh. I…”

“I know what you mean. And I like having you around too.” He said, finally stepping fully into the house.

Aaron placed a gentle hand on the small of your back to guide you toward the kitchen. You plated him up some food and he joined you at the table, sitting right beside you. You couldn’t help the growing heat that bloomed on your cheeks as his arm brushed against your own. The room was filled with the playful chatter of the eight-year-olds that sat across from you, giggles escaping them as they recounted the events of their day at school.

Glancing over, you noticed the joy radiating from Aaron’s expression. You hadn’t seen him this genuinely happy in all the time you’ve known him, and you wonder if it is because he doesn’t get to relax like this often. The thought allows your mind to drift even further – splaying images of cooking for the four of you all the time, of late nights cuddled with Aaron and even further into the future, welcoming a new child to the family you’ve curated…only it's all in your head.

“You alright?” Aaron whispers. His warm breath against your ear causes a chill to cascade across your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, just lost in thought.”

“Hey mom, is Jack’s dad going to be my new dad?” Millie posed, causing you to choke on the bite of chicken you’d just taken.

“Woah, sweetheart you’re okay, just breathe!” Aaron patted your back gently. “Here, take a sip of water.”

Taking a swig, the chicken makes its way down. “Mills…baby where did you get that idea?”

“Well Rain said that his mom said that you were moving in on Jack’s dad, and I thought that if we were moving in, then that would make him my new dad!” Millie smiled.

It was Aaron who choked this time, only it was on his water, causing some of it to certainly escape through his nose. He pulled his napkin to his face as he coughed in an attempt to clear his airway.

“Aar…breathe.” You returned the favor of patting him gently on the back. “Are you okay?”

He answered with a nod and allowed a chuckle to escape his mouth before looking up to meet your gaze. Aaron wasn’t ignorant of the fact that the other moms had been eyeing him since the beginning of the year, he just hadn’t realized that they’d gone after you due to your budding closeness.

“Millie, Rain’s mom is just kidding. Jack’s dad and I are becoming good friends, like you and Jack, and they don’t like that, so they’re saying some not so nice things.” You explained.

“Oh…okay.” Millie said, a small pout gracing her features.

A pout that pulled on not only yours, but also Aaron’s heartstrings. He allowed himself a glance in your direction and took careful note of the hurt and disappointment that flashed across your own features briefly. Was it possible you felt more than you were letting on?

Six days later you received a call at four in the morning. It hadn’t been the thing to wake you up, but it came as a surprise, nonetheless.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I just got a call about a time sensitive case and Jess is dealing with her dad. Would you mind taking Jack while I am away?”

“Aaron, of course! Do you need me to come and get him?”

“No, I will get a bag together for him and drop him off on my way to the office. I am going to leave you with a key to my place just in case Jack needs anything. Thank you for doing this, seriously it means a lot.”

“It’s really not a problem, I will have a bed made up for him by the time you get here.”

“Thanks sweetheart, see you soon.”

With that, Aaron hung up, and for the second time you were taken by surprise at the pet name he so casually referred to you by. You had to remind yourself not to swoon. It wouldn’t do you any good to get into your thoughts about the meaning behind his slip of the tongue.

Jack Hotchner was the most wonderful child you have the privilege of knowing – aside from Millie of course. He was polite and he listened with no pushback. He helped Millie with her chores (cleaning up her toys and putting her clothes in the laundry basket), he didn’t complain, and he just exuded this kindness and joy that brought an extra bit of warmth to your home.

You could see Millie becoming attached and you feared her heart would break once Jack had to go back home. You only hoped that she’d understand that although Jack’s presence isn’t currently permanent, they’d still get to see each other all the time.

Jack stayed with you for five nights, Aaron surprised you all by showing up with a pizza on Saturday evening.

The three of you had been cuddled up on the couch watching Inside Out 2 when the doorbell rang. You shuffled over to the door in your sweats and fuzzy socks to see Aaron standing there in a quarter zip and jeans. Good God, he’s never looked so good.

“Aaron!” You couldn’t hide your excitement.

“Surprise! I brought pizza, I hope cheese is okay.” He inquired.

“Cheese is perfect.” You confirmed. “Kids, dinner is here!”

“Dad!”

Jack ran to embrace his father. Millie, however, stormed off to her room. You were quick to throw Aaron an apologetic glance, before following her down the hall.

“Mills…what’s wrong honey?”

Millie replied with a grumble in her pillow and a shake of her head.

“Baby, I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

“It’s not fair. Jack doesn’t have a mom, and I don’t have a dad. But when you and Mr. Aaron are together it feels like a normal family. How come you guys can’t just be together?” Millie cried.

“Oh, honey. It’s not that simple bug. Mr. Aaron, well he’s a busy man and I just…” You trailed off.

“Don’t you like him?”

“Mills, yeah I like him, but like I said, it’s not that simple. Even if he liked me back, that wouldn’t just make us a family, it would take some time for us to get serious and then we’d have to decide if that was the right step for us.”

“It is the right step! You guys like each other, and Jack and I get along…mommy it’s perfect! You could be Jack’s mom and Mr. Aaron could be my new dad.” Millie said matter-of-factly.

“Oh honey, is this about your dad?” You pulled Millie into a hug.

“No! He wasn’t nice to me like Mr. Aaron is. Mom I want Mr. Aaron to be my dad.” She whispered as tears stained her cheeks.

“I know honey, me too…me too.” You pressed a kiss to her head. “Baby lets go have some pizza and enjoy our time with Jack and Mr. Aaron, yeah?”

“Okay.”

That night, something shifted. Aaron and you had begun spending more time together, going to soccer practices and games together, taking the kids to the park, the movies, pottery painting places, dinner at your house, game night at his. Aaron had also exclusively been asking you to take Jack while he was away on cases – claiming Jess’ father was getting worse.

Two months passed like this, and things had started to feel very domestic. Millie was asking more and more about Jack being her brother and Aaron her father and you had to explain that even though they weren’t related, even by marriage, that friends could be considered family too.

Once again you were taking care of Jack while Aaron was out of town on a case, only this time it was a little different. Your car was in the shop, so Aaron had let you borrow his car, and today was the last day of school before winter break. The schoolyard was buzzing with anticipation of the final bell, parents were discussing their vacation plans with one another while waiting.

You has been talking to Scott and Michael when Becca approached you.

“You know, I think it’s a sick thing you’ve done, using your daughter to help you prey on a vulnerable man.” She hissed.

“Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?” You shot back.

“Aaron. You had Millie befriend Jack and for what so you could trick Aaron into going out with you? It’s truly despicable behavior. He’s a good man and he deserves someone who is genuine.” Becca spewed.

“I don’t know where you get off, talking to me like that, but I can assure you – ”

“Becca, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t speak to my girlfriend that way. She is the kindest most genuine person I have ever met, and every day she shows me how much she cares for and loves Jack and me. So back off, and maybe don’t speak on things you don’t know anything about.” Aaron bit as his arm snuck its way around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“I KNEW IT!” Scott shouted.

Becca stormed off with a huff and you turned around to see Aaron wearing a shit eating grin. You couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with disbelief at the fact that Aaron was here right now, he’d stuck up for you, and he’d called you his girlfriend. Yeah, you were fairly sure your brain had short circuited.

“Girlfriend?” Your gaze lifted to meet his.

“You know, I’d been meaning to ask.” He grinned down at you. “What do you say?”

“Yes! Of course!”

Aaron closed the gap between you and captured your lips in a kiss. All the while the moms scoffed and huffed in disbelief that you truly had taken Aaron HOTTIE Hotchner off the market. And before you had a chance to pull away, Jack and Millie came bounding over just in time to catch the last bit of your kiss.

“Does this mean Mr. Aaron can finally be my dad?” Millie asked.

Aaron leaned down to Millie’s level “Mills, I would love nothing more than to be your dad, but we have to take things slow okay? Your mom and I have a lot of grown-up decisions to make before that can happen, so I need you to be patient. Can you do that for me?”

“I can do that!”

You leaned down in front of Jack, wanting to ensure he’s included in all this. “What do you think Jack? Would you be okay with me and your dad being together? It means you and Millie will be together a lot more often.”

“Will you eventually be my mom then?”

“If your dad and I choose to get married eventually, then yeah, I’d be your stepmom.” You explained.

“I think you’d be a really good mom.” Jack wrapped his arms around you.

Aaron and you may have only just made things official, but in the last five or so months, you’d both fallen for each other. Sometimes, things are just right, and all the pieces fall into place naturally. And for the first time in a long time, you couldn’t wait to see where this leads.

[00valentina-writes00]

✞⛧ The Unlikely Marriage ✞⛧

Warnings: forced marriage, political manipulation, emotional turmoil, slow-burn romance, power dynamics, mature content (around the end), intimacy exploration, vulnerability, some fluffy moments

Word count: 19k

(I’m still in Hiatus but I really wanted to post what I’ve been working on for the past few days! I had this idea started about a week ago but actually sat down and finished it)

The air in the grand hall feels heavy, thick with the weight of your decision. Your heart pounds relentlessly in your chest, and the only thing you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears. The scent of roses from the wedding arrangements blends with the acrid bite of your own rising anxiety, suffocating you. Every part of your body seems to hum with tension, but you are helpless in your own skin. The political climate surrounding Arrilks has become a death sentence, and there's no way out. Noxian forces are coming, and your only chance at survival lies in the hands of Ambessa Medarda.

The whispers about her, those vicious, unrelenting rumors that circle like vultures, have haunted you for years. Ambessa—the Iron Lioness. The ruthless General of Noxus. You've heard the stories, seen the chilling accounts of her brutality, her cold calculations, her unshakable will. They speak of a woman who strikes fear into the hearts of men, a ruler whose ambition knows no bounds. You've been told that, to her, people are mere pieces on a chessboard—useful tools, dispensable when no longer needed.

And now you are a pawn.

Your fingers tremble as you touch the edge of the delicate lace on your wedding gown. The material feels foreign against your skin, an uncomfortable reminder that everything about this moment is a lie. There is no romance in this marriage, no love to hold onto, no future to look forward to. The wedding is nothing more than a political alliance—a transaction to ensure your country's survival under the protection of Noxus.

Arrilks—your home, your people—will remain safe, but at the cost of your freedom. The cost of your autonomy. The cost of your heart.

You've spent sleepless nights staring at the ceiling, the weight of the inevitable crushing you further with each passing hour. The offer of peace from Ambessa comes with a price too steep to ignore. She is no fool; she knows the value of your marriage. And you are nothing more than a tool to her—another pawn she must move into place in the intricate web of power that surrounds her.

There's no way to back out now.

The thought makes your stomach churn. You've already signed the papers, already sealed your fate with the ink of necessity. But that doesn't mean you have to accept it with grace. No, you can feel the simmering resentment building up in your chest, the sharp sting of injustice digging into your soul. You hate it. You hate the fact that you are being forced into this. You hate the fact that your life, your future, has been dictated by the whims of an empire and the cold ambition of a woman you've never even met.

The door creaks open, and your heart leaps in your chest. You don't have to turn to know who stands in the doorway. Her presence fills the room, a force that presses down on your shoulders like the weight of an entire army. The silence between you is heavy, thick with the unspoken understanding of what this marriage means.

Ambessa Medarda. She stands tall, her silhouette imposing and unforgiving in the doorway. At what you presume is 6'5", she towers over you—her commanding presence impossible to ignore. Her muscular frame, toned and defined from years of battle, is encased in a tailored black suit adorned with gold and silver accents. She wears the weight of her power like a second skin, and it is impossible to miss the way the room shifts when she enters. Every movement of hers is deliberate, precise. A woman used to being in control, to making the rules.

Her dark eyes lock onto you with a calculating intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel her gaze like a physical thing, sharp and assessing, though she says nothing. The air between you feels charged with an energy you can't escape, and you wonder how much of her coldness is real, how much of it is a mask. You wonder how much of her is left behind that mask.

But you are too bitter, too filled with your own resentment to think of such things now.

"Are you ready?" she asks, her voice a low, almost melodic rumble. It carries the weight of authority, but it is not unkind. It's a question, simple and direct. But it feels like an order.

Your throat tightens at the sound of her voice, at the way it demands your attention without even trying. You nod stiffly, your body stiffening in response to her commanding presence.

Ambessa's eyes flicker with something unreadable as she takes a step into the room. You can hear the soft scrape of leather against the floor as she moves closer, the scent of her cologne—a mixture of musk and something faintly metallic—washing over you. She stands before you now, towering over you with the quiet force of a storm that you know is always ready to break.

Her gaze drifts over you, taking in the details of your wedding gown, the way it clings to your body, the delicate lace at the hem. Her expression remains unchanged, though there's something unreadable in the depths of her eyes, a flicker of something too fleeting to grasp. She tilts her head slightly, her eyes narrowing in thought.

"You look... poised," she says, her lips curving into something that could almost be a smile, though it never reaches her eyes. It is a compliment, but it feels more like a calculated observation.

You feel a mix of anger and disbelief churn in your gut. Poised? You feel anything but poised. You feel trapped. But you bite your tongue, knowing that anger will get you nowhere here. Instead, you force a tight smile that doesn't reach your eyes either.

"Thank you, General Medarda," you say, the words leaving your mouth like acid.

Her smile falters, just slightly, before she straightens. "You don't have to thank me for anything," she says. Her voice is firm, unapologetic. There's no warmth in it—only the cold, harsh truth of the situation. She speaks as if this marriage is already sealed in both of your minds, as if nothing more need be said.

Your stomach twists with resentment at her coldness. It's as if she sees you as a tool to be used and nothing more.

The silence stretches between you, thick with the weight of everything that is left unsaid. You want to scream. You want to rail against this fate that has been thrust upon you, to throw your hands up and refuse to go through with this. But you know it's pointless. The Noxian forces are on their way, and your country needs protection. There's no way to stop this, no way to change your fate. You are a piece in a much larger game—one you don't have the power to control.

Finally, Ambessa steps forward, breaking the silence between you. Her movements are fluid, controlled. She reaches out and gently lifts your chin, her fingers calloused yet surprisingly gentle against your skin. You tense at her touch, but she doesn't pull back. Her grip is firm, unwavering, and you know she could crush you if she wanted to.

Her gaze holds yours, unblinking, calculating. You wonder if she can see the fire burning in your chest, the resentment, the anger, the fear. But then she speaks, her voice softer than before, though still heavy with purpose.

"Don't worry," she says. "This won't be as difficult as you think. In time, you'll understand why this is necessary."

You stare at her, uncertain of how to respond, your pulse pounding in your ears. For a moment, you wonder if there's more to her than the woman who has been painted in the whispers of others. But before you can think further, she steps away, her fingers leaving your chin.

The moment passes, but the tension in the air doesn't.

Ambessa's eyes linger on you one last time before she turns to leave.

"We'll have time to discuss our future later," she says, her voice cold and final. "For now, we have a wedding to attend to."

And with that, she exits the room, leaving you standing there, feeling more alone than you ever have before.

As you turn to follow her, you know that the future holds nothing but uncertainty. Nothing but duty. Nothing but the cold, distant obligation of a union born from necessity.

The grand hall feels suffocating as you step out of the room, the weight of the ceremony looming over you. You can feel the cool air brush against your skin, but it offers little relief from the heat of your anxiety. The sounds of the guests filter through the door behind you—laughter, murmurs, the soft rustle of silk and velvet—but it all feels distant, as if you're walking through a dream you can't wake from.

Ambessa's presence is a steadying force at your back, yet it feels like a cage. You don't want to be here. You don't want this. You don't want to stand before an altar, your future sealed by a contract, your country's survival bought with your freedom. The grand hall stretches before you, an unfeeling monument to the price you've had to pay for protection.

You try to focus, try to remind yourself why you're doing this. Arrilks needs peace. You need peace. But every breath you take feels like an echo of betrayal—betrayal of yourself, of everything you believed in. This marriage, this union with Ambessa, is a mockery of what you once dreamed of.

You step forward, your legs feeling heavy, your heart heavier. Ambessa's footsteps echo behind you, her presence as inescapable as the cold, hard truth that settles in your chest. She moves with quiet precision, never faltering, never questioning. It's as if she owns the very air around her, and you—well, you're just along for the ride.

The guests begin to quiet as you approach the altar, their gazes too sharp, too piercing, and you feel naked beneath them. You glance over your shoulder at Ambessa, her eyes dark and unreadable, though her presence still exudes that same overwhelming power.

"Are you ready?" she asks again, her voice low, measured. It's not a question. It's an instruction.

You don't answer right away, not sure what words could possibly convey the storm inside you. There is no readiness in you—there's only the sense of inevitability. The moment feels like a weight pressing down on your chest, but you can't back out now. Not without risking everything you've worked for. Not with the Noxian forces on the horizon.

A cold shiver runs down your spine, but you nod, the motion more out of duty than conviction. It's the only thing left to do.

Ambessa doesn't smile, doesn't offer any kind of reassurance. She simply turns toward the altar, her commanding presence filling the room once again, leaving no room for anything other than what is about to happen.

You move to stand beside her, your heart thundering in your chest, and for a brief, fleeting moment, you wish for anything but this. Anything but the coldness, the political games, the loss of everything that once meant something to you. But you know it's pointless to resist. There is no escaping the game.

Ambessa stands tall beside you, her stature a reminder of all you are about to lose. You keep your gaze straight ahead, not daring to look at her. Your chest tightens as the vows are exchanged, words that feel like chains wrapping around your heart. Each syllable feels like a further surrender of what little freedom you have left.

And when the ceremony ends, when the contract is sealed with a kiss that carries no warmth, no affection, you are left standing beside a woman who, despite her power, feels like a stranger. This marriage will bind you to her—physically, politically, emotionally. A union that was never meant to be anything more than survival.

As the guests begin to applaud, you catch a glimpse of Ambessa, her expression still unreadable, her gaze lingering on you just long enough to make your heart race. She's unreadable, cold, and calculating, but there's something else in the depths of her eyes—something almost imperceptible that you can't quite place.

—-

The door closes softly behind you, the heavy creak of its wooden frame sounding more like the closing of a coffin than the beginning of a new chapter. Your breath catches in your throat as you stand at the threshold of your shared chamber, pulse quickening in anticipation of what's to come. The air is thick with unspoken tension, and for a moment, you simply stand there—unsure, unnerved, unwilling to take the first step.

Ambessa stands by the large window, her back turned to you. The moonlight that filters through the thick curtains casts a silvery sheen over her commanding figure. She exudes power and control, her broad shoulders stiff with authority. The air around her feels charged, like she's always on the brink of battle, and you can't help but feel the weight of her presence press on you.

You take a tentative step forward, unsure of how to break the silence. "Ambessa," you say, your voice slightly wavering despite your efforts to remain composed.

She doesn't turn around. The silence stretches, but then, after a beat, she speaks—her voice low and controlled, a force unto itself. "Come, sit."

You hesitate, uncertainty lacing your movements. But you can't stay standing. The tension in the room demands you take a seat. Slowly, you move toward the massive bed at the center of the room. It feels too big for just the two of you. The emptiness of the space, despite the lavish surroundings, tightens the knot in your chest. It's hard to breathe in here, with the weight of everything that's unspoken hanging between you.

You sit at the edge, your hands trembling in your lap. Ambessa remains at the window, eyes distant, searching the night sky. You wonder if she's really here, in this room with you, or if she's lost in her thoughts, locked away behind walls that seem almost impossible to scale.

Minutes stretch into a suffocating silence. Her presence is overwhelming, filling every corner of the room with something you can't quite name. It's like she's made of stone—unyielding, unwavering. And yet, you sense something else in the air. A shift, an unseen crack in the fortress she's built around herself. You don't know if it's real, or just wishful thinking.

Finally, Ambessa speaks again, her voice softer, quieter than before. "I didn't want this," she says, surprising you more than you can admit. "Not like this."

You turn toward her, the words ringing in your ears. There's a vulnerability there—a crack in her armor, however small it may be. Her hands are clasped behind her back, her stance still proud and rigid, but there's something different in her tone now. It's a rare glimpse, one that makes your heart ache in ways you don't understand.

You search her expression for any sign that she's lying, but there's none. "What do you mean?" you ask, leaning forward slightly. You have to know, despite the uncertainty still crawling up your spine.

Ambessa doesn't meet your gaze. She just stares out the window, her voice distant. "I didn't want to marry you. But I needed to secure this alliance—this unity. Our people are at war, and I had no choice but to do what was necessary."

You stare at her back, the words sinking in. The shock is immediate. She didn't want this either? The woman who had seemed so cold, so calculated, had been forced into this just as much as you had. You swallow hard, but there's no easy way to process that truth. The weight of it makes your chest ache, and you feel an odd connection to her in that moment.

"You think you're the only one who has made sacrifices?" she mutters, but it's loud enough for you to hear, her voice tinged with bitterness.

Your heart races at her words, your own pulse quickening. There's a rawness in her tone now, one that you hadn't expected. She's not as invincible as she seemed.

You sit in stunned silence for a moment, absorbing the realization. You want to say something, but the words seem to get caught in your throat. How do you even respond to that? You didn't expect to find this... softness behind the walls she'd so carefully erected.

"I didn't expect this from you," you say quietly, unable to hide the confusion that's been eating at you. "I thought you'd see me as nothing more than a tool in your game."

Ambessa turns her gaze toward you then, her dark eyes locking with yours, intense and searching. "I see you for what you are," she replies, her voice steady, though there's still a trace of something softer beneath it. "I will never pretend this union is anything other than what it is. But don't mistake that for a lack of respect."

Her words hang in the air, heavy with truth. You nod slowly, processing the weight of it all. Respect. It's not love, but it's something. Something more than you thought.

You shift uncomfortably on the bed, unsure of what comes next. "But is this all we are, then? Just pawns in some political game?"

She doesn't answer immediately. For a long moment, the space between you both seems impossible to bridge. But then, she moves toward the bed, her steps purposeful, her presence undeniable. When she sits down beside you, her body cool and solid next to yours, the space between you feels both too large and too small at the same time.

Ambessa doesn't reach for you, doesn't speak, just settles beside you, her back to you in that deliberate gesture of separation. The tension in the air is thick, but somehow, it feels different now. It's not just suffocating. It's complicated..

You shift uncomfortably on the bed, your hands gripping the edge of the sheets. It's hard to breathe in the heavy silence that has fallen between you. You know that nothing has changed—this is still a political alliance, still a marriage of convenience. But something shifts in the air between you two, a subtle change that makes the space feel less suffocating. Maybe it's the brief glimpse of Ambessa's vulnerability, the rare crack in her hardened exterior, that makes you wonder if this union is doomed from the start—or if, in time, it could evolve into something more.

But that question remains unanswered as she moves toward the bed, her steps measured and sure, the weight of her presence undeniable. She doesn't speak as she climbs into the bed beside you, her body a cool, solid presence that fills the space between you. You are acutely aware of the distance that still separates you, both physically and emotionally.

Ambessa does not reach for you, does not offer comfort. She simply settles in beside you, her back turned toward you in a deliberate gesture of separation.

The bed feels vast, empty, and yet somehow too small for the tension that has built between you both.

You lie in the dark, your thoughts swirling in a whirlwind of confusion and frustration. The silence stretches on, thick with unspoken words, and the realization sinks in that this marriage will not be what you thought it would be. It will not be filled with love or passion, nor will it be easy. This is a union of necessity, one that will demand more from you than you've ever been prepared for.

And as you lie there, the weight of the night pressing down on you, you wonder just how far Ambessa's walls go. You wonder what lies beneath the cold exterior, what secret pain she carries with her. But for now, all you have is silence—the kind that rings loudest in the dark.

The night drags on, a slow, torturous procession of minutes that stretch into hours. And yet, despite the suffocating tension, you sense something in the air—a quiet, fragile crack in Ambessa's mask, a small, fragile opening where something deeper, more human, might still lie beneath.

But for now, the walls remain high.

—-

The streets of Noxus are alive with the energy of a city built on power and war. Massive stone structures rise like monuments to dominance, the air thick with the scent of iron and sweat. The people—soldiers, merchants, citizens—walk with purpose, their eyes locked forward, their posture straight as if the weight of their city rests on their shoulders. They know no other way of life. Everything in this city screams strength, authority, and conquest.

And here you stand, in the heart of it all, your body wrapped in the same elaborate garb meant to signal power, control, unity. A gown of deep crimson, embroidered with gold threads, drapes over your frame like a weight you can hardly bear. You feel its tightness in every step, the cold metal clasp at your neck threatening to suffocate you. You are presented before the people of Noxus, an alliance forged between their formidable empire and your homeland.

Beside you, Ambessa is a force. Her presence is undeniable, her posture straight and poised, the unyielding queen of her domain. The sharp angles of her face, the high collar of her own ceremonial attire, and the commanding way she moves—everything about her says that she belongs here, in this space of power. She doesn't flinch as the eyes of the Noxian nobility and citizens scrutinize her every move. She's made for this, forged in battle and hardened by years of commanding her people. Her strength, her resolve, her complete mastery of the world around her—it all comes through in a single glance. The very picture of Noxian authority.

But you? You can't hold it together.

Every step feels like it's a betrayal of everything you've ever known. The weight of the city presses down on you. The expectations—the ever-watchful eyes, the whispers at the edges of your vision—are like a thousand blades, aimed at your back. You don't belong here. Not like Ambessa. Not like this. You stand, your hands rigid by your sides, the smile you force onto your face as thin as a razor's edge.

You know that if you falter, if you let your guard down for even a moment, the game will be lost. This marriage, this alliance, is the only thing standing between your people and destruction. You don't have the luxury of being yourself, of showing weakness, of questioning the reality you've been thrust into.

But still, it gnaws at you. The anger, the confusion, the sense of utter wrongness. You try to stand tall, to match Ambessa's stature, but it's like pretending to be something you're not. You're forced to hide behind the mask of a proud wife, a willing partner to a woman who, until the night before, seemed as distant as the stars.

Ambessa's vulnerability, the small crack she'd shown—you can't afford to let it mean anything. You can't let it soften you, not here. Not in front of all these people. The tension between the two of you may have shifted last night, but today, you must return to the roles you've been given.

The crowd erupts in applause, loud and harsh, as you and Ambessa stand at the center of the grand hall. You hold your breath, forcing the smile to stay. They are watching you both, waiting for a sign of unity, of power. The strength of Noxus and the unity of this new empire. But the only thing you feel is a bitter emptiness gnawing at your stomach.

As the applause begins to die down, you feel Ambessa's gaze on you, sharp, expectant. You can feel her tension, too—she's locked in the same dance, the same game. She expects you to match her, to show nothing less than absolute control. Her eyes flicker to you for the slightest moment before she turns to address the crowd.

You watch as she speaks with the authority of a queen, her voice carrying through the chamber with practiced ease. She weaves words about power, strength, and unity. You know the speech. You know it's rehearsed. But as she speaks, you can't help but feel like a puppet with invisible strings pulling you along. She is convincing, commanding. But you? You stand there, forced to play your part, to nod at the right moments, to smile when expected.

The weight of it presses on you, and for a brief moment, everything feels too heavy. You can't do it. You can't stand there and pretend everything is fine when it's all wrong. Not when your heart is screaming for something more—something real. You want to scream, to tear down this façade, to make them understand that you are not part of this. That you never wanted any of this.

But you keep it inside. You swallow the words. You force the smile. You make yourself invisible beside Ambessa, as if you belong here, in this gilded cage. The night feels endless, the faces of the Noxian elite blurring together in your peripheral vision, their hollow smiles and nods offering nothing but reminders of the cage you've found yourself in.

When the event finally ends, and you and Ambessa return to the Medarda estate, the silence in the carriage is suffocating. It's not comfortable anymore, not after the mask you've been forced to wear. The air between you both feels thick and tense, heavier than it's ever been. You don't know how to face her, not after everything. You try to breathe, try to hold it together. But as the door to the estate closes behind you, the dam breaks.

Ambessa moves toward the common area with her usual grace, but you can't stay silent. Not anymore. You've had enough.

"How dare you?" you burst out, the words finally spilling from your mouth like a tidal wave. "How dare you expect me to act like everything's fine? Like I'm happy about this—about us?"

Ambessa stops in her tracks, her posture stiffening. The unyielding control she's always carried with her cracks just for a moment, and you can see it—the tiniest flicker of something vulnerable in her eyes. But she doesn't respond. She stands there, waiting for you to continue.

"Do you think I wanted this?" you scream, your voice shaking with the force of your anger. "Do you think I wanted to be married to you? To be forced into this alliance? My people are at war, and this is what I have to do—this is what we both have to do! But that doesn't mean I have to like it!"

You take a step forward, your hands shaking at your sides. Your chest is tight with frustration, with the realization that you've never felt more trapped in your life.

"Don't expect me to wear that smile anymore, Ambessa. Don't expect me to pretend that I'm content with this life we've been forced into." Your voice cracks with emotion, but you can't hold it in anymore. "You might be able to play the part, but I can't. I'm not you."

Ambessa doesn't speak immediately, her eyes dark and unreadable. For a long moment, you think she's going to say something cutting, something designed to shut you down, but she doesn't. She stands there, listening.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she steps forward. She doesn't yell back. She doesn't raise her voice. Instead, she speaks softly, her tone steady. "I understand," she says quietly, her voice carrying more weight than a thousand shouted words. "I understand what you're feeling. I do."

You blink at her, confused. "Then why—?"

“Because I'm in the same position, remember?," she says, cutting you off. "This marriage wasn't my choice either. But we both have our roles to play. We both have our duties."

She takes a deep breath, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that you can't ignore. "I'm not asking you to be happy about it," she continues, her voice unwavering. "I'm not asking you to pretend. But this is what we both have to do, for the sake of both our clans."

The silence stretches between you both, heavy and thick. You want to argue, to scream that it's not fair—that you shouldn't have to do this—but a part of you understands. You don't want to. You don't like it. But there is no other choice.

"I can't promise that it will be easy," she adds, her gaze softening ever so slightly. "But I can promise you this: we will get through this."

You stand there, the weight of her words settling on your shoulders. The anger doesn't go away—it can't. But there is something in her words, something in the way she says them, that tells you she understands. For the first time, you feel like she's not just the cold, distant figure you've always seen. Maybe, just maybe, she's in this with you.

"Let's go," she says, her voice soft but firm. "We both have our duties."

You nod, the fight draining out of you. For now, there's nothing more to say.

——

The weeks that follow the wedding blur into a series of dull, expected events. Formalities are upheld, small courtesies exchanged, but each interaction feels like a ritual, a performance with no real stakes. Every moment with Ambessa feels like you're still standing on the outside of her world—an outsider in a fortress of walls she's carefully constructed around herself.

Despite the opulence of your surroundings and the constant display of wealth and power, there's an unspoken, suffocating silence that lingers between you. You've seen her up close now—seen the way she commands a room with nothing but the weight of her presence, felt the intensity of her gaze that cuts through the air like a sharpened blade. She's a woman of incredible control, always poised, always composed. Her power is tangible, so thick you can almost feel it in the air, yet she wears it effortlessly, a second skin.

You've been in her presence for weeks now, and still, nothing has changed. She's still distant, still unreachable in the way she presents herself to the world. That one time view of her cracked amour feeling like sand between your finger. Ambessa does not need affection. She does not seek reassurance. You are a wife in name only, and for now, you are content to play the role.

But even as you stand at the periphery, you begin to notice the subtle shifts, the way she regards you just slightly differently. It starts small—an added glance, a gesture of acknowledgment during meetings, when her sharp gaze lingers a moment longer than it has in the past. Her approach to you changes when she begins to involve you more in the affairs of Arrilks and noxus, the province that has become a pawn in your political marriage.

You assist her with decision-making, handling smaller matters she doesn't have the time or energy for. At first, she watches you carefully, as if testing your capability, but it doesn't take long before she begins to trust you with more—too much, perhaps. There's a moment, one sharp, fleeting second, when you realize that she's no longer just tolerating your presence. She's starting to rely on you.

It's in the way she speaks to you during meetings, no longer issuing orders but instead asking your opinion. It's in the shift of her posture when you step closer to offer advice or contribute an idea. She listens, a rare thing for someone as self-assured and authoritative as Ambessa, and you begin to understand that this woman—this powerful, indomitable leader—is not impervious to the weight of her responsibilities. She may not show it often, but she carries the burden of leadership with a quiet, constant pressure.

Her strength, you begin to realize, is not just a weapon—it's a shield, a necessity that has become as much a part of her as her breath. Ambessa is not untouchable. She is a survivor. The empire she's built—the empire you now find yourself wrapped up in—is not as stable as it appears from the outside. There are cracks, fractures beneath the surface, and you begin to glimpse them in the fleeting moments she allows herself to be more than just the Iron Lioness.

The first time she opens up to you, it's not a grand speech or an admission of weakness, but a small, almost inconsequential moment. You're standing in her private study, the two of you pouring over diplomatic reports when she pauses, her gaze distant as she sifts through the papers in front of her. The silence between you stretches, and then, almost without warning, she speaks.

"The empire is fragile," she says quietly, her voice laced with something you hadn't expected—an almost imperceptible strain. "I've built it through blood, through sacrifice... but sometimes I wonder if it's enough."

Her words hang in the air, and you find yourself caught off guard. You've always known that Ambessa was a leader forged in the fires of war, someone who has seen the worst the world has to offer. But hearing her speak of the fragility of her position—of the empire she's so carefully constructed—shakes something inside you. It's a vulnerability you hadn't seen for weeks.

For the second time since your marriage began, you see her not as a warlord or a matriarch but as a woman—one who is carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"I can't afford to let it break," she continues, her voice growing more resolute as she looks at you, her sharp, calculating eyes locked onto yours. "I have too much at stake. Too much to lose."

You feel the weight of her words, the underlying fear that lingers beneath her steely exterior. There's no room for failure in her world. The stakes are too high, the price of defeat too great. And yet, she stands unyielding, determined.

"You don't need to carry this alone," you offer, your voice sounding foreign in the silence of the room. It's a statement, a truth you believe, but it's also a subtle offer—a promise you weren't sure you were ready to make.

For a moment, Ambessa's gaze softens—just a fraction. It's gone before you can fully grasp it, replaced by the cold, calculating look she's so adept at wearing, but for that brief second, you know you've reached her. She may not show it, but you've seen the weight of the world in her eyes. You've touched on something deeper than the political games you both play.

She turns back to the papers, her posture stiff and formal once more, but you notice the way her hand lingers over a particular document—how she fidgets with it before placing it aside. A small gesture, a subtle sign of the exhaustion that rests beneath her fierce exterior.

As the days progress, you find yourself drawn deeper into the complexities of Ambessa's world. The more you work with her, the more you come to admire the woman behind the leader—the way she handles everything with the precision of a master tactician. It's not just about politics; it's about survival. It's about the constant, grinding effort to maintain control in a world that is always shifting, always threatening to collapse beneath her feet.

And yet, despite her fierce determination, you begin to notice more cracks in the foundation. You start to see that, as much as Ambessa demands strength from others, she demands it from herself most of all. She has no room for weakness, no time to indulge in the things that others take for granted—like rest, like comfort, like care.

In the quiet moments, when the work slows and the two of you are left alone, you sense the toll it takes on her. The subtle tension in her shoulders. The way she sometimes rubs at her temples, her eyes closing as though the weight of her thoughts has become too much to bear. You catch glimpses of the exhaustion that gnaws at her, the quiet moments when her mask slips, and the sheer burden of leadership becomes too much for her to hide.

It's in these moments, when the room falls silent and the two of you sit side by side, working in tandem, that you begin to understand the truth. Ambessa is not unshakable. She is not invincible. She is a woman who has fought for everything she has, who has sacrificed countless pieces of herself to maintain her power. She is a leader who has built an empire on the strength of her will, but that strength comes at a cost.

You find yourself watching her more closely now, not just as a political spouse but as someone who, despite the distance between you, you are beginning to depend on. There's an unspoken understanding between you now—a mutual respect, a shared burden.

Ambessa's trust in you grows, bit by bit. She gives you more responsibility, more influence in the decisions that shape Arrilks and noxus’s future. The more you work alongside her, the more you see the fragility of the empire she has built, the more you understand the delicate balance she maintains. You realize that this partnership—this union of necessity—is not so simple after all. There's something more here, something deeper than either of you anticipated.

But there is a part of you that fights against it, that resists the growing sense of dependency you feel. It's not love yet, not by any means. But it's something new—something undeniable. A connection forged in the fires of power and politics, built on respect and shared burdens. And though you may not admit it aloud, the bond between you is beginning to grow stronger, shifting into something neither of you can control.

In the end, Ambessa remains a force to be reckoned with—a woman who knows no weakness, who will not bend, who will not break. But you also begin to see the cracks in her armor, the quiet moments when she allows herself to be something more than the Iron Lioness. And in those moments, you realize that this marriage, this partnership, may be more than just a political arrangement. It may, in time, become something far more complex—and far more real.

——

The fire crackled softly in the hearth as you sat in the corner of the room, nursing a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. It was late—too late for either of you to be awake—but sleep rarely came easy in Noxus. Not with the heavy weight of your situation pressing on your chest, not with the constant reminder that this wasn’t your home.

Ambessa sat at the table across from you, reviewing a pile of maps and documents. She hadn’t spoken much since returning from her meeting with her advisors, her focus seemingly glued to the parchment in front of her. That suited you just fine. Her silence gave you room to breathe, to think, to reflect.

And yet, something about the quiet tonight felt different. Not oppressive, exactly, but not peaceful either. The firelight cast flickering shadows across the walls, and the faint hum of the city outside reminded you how far you were from the rolling green hills and soft winds of your homeland.

“You’re staring.”

Her voice broke through your thoughts, startling you. Ambessa didn’t look up from her work, but her tone carried its usual edge—sharp, calculated, always aware.

You blinked, setting your cup down with a soft clink. “I wasn’t staring,” you muttered, though your voice lacked conviction.

Ambessa finally glanced up, one brow arched. “Is that so?”

There was something about her gaze that made you feel small, like she could see right through you. It was infuriating, really, how she could disarm you with nothing more than a look. But tonight, you were too tired to deflect. Too tired to pretend you weren’t aching for something familiar.

“I was thinking about home,” you admitted quietly, leaning back in your chair. “About Arrilks.”

At the mention of your homeland, Ambessa set her quill down and leaned back slightly, her expression unreadable. “Go on,” she said, her tone neutral.

You hesitated, unsure why you had even brought it up. But the words were already tumbling out of you before you could stop them.

“It’s so different from here,” you began, your voice soft but steady. “The air… it’s cleaner, lighter. The sky stretches on forever, and the fields—” You paused, a faint smile tugging at your lips as the memory filled your mind. “The fields bloom with wildflowers every spring. It’s like the whole world is painted in color.”

Ambessa listened, her dark eyes fixed on you. She didn’t interrupt, didn’t offer any snide remarks or cutting observations. She just… listened.

“And the people,” you continued, your chest tightening as you thought of the faces you’d left behind. “They’re not like Noxians. They’re kinder, gentler. They look out for each other, not because they have to, but because they want to. It’s… it’s home.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you looked away, embarrassed by the sudden surge of emotion. You hadn’t meant to get so personal. Sharing this part of yourself with Ambessa felt like laying a fragile piece of your soul bare, and you weren’t sure how she would respond.

For a long moment, she said nothing. The silence stretched between you, heavy and uncertain.

“I’ve heard of Arrilks, never been in person though” she said, her voice low and measured. “A place of beauty, they say. Peaceful. Idyllic.”

You nodded, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “It is. Or it was. Before the war.”

Ambessa’s gaze softened, just barely. It wasn’t pity—she would never offer that—but there was something in her expression that felt almost… understanding.

“Do you miss it?” she asked, her tone quieter than usual.

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Every day. But missing it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t bring it back.”

Ambessa leaned forward then, her elbows resting on the table as she studied you. “And yet, you speak of it with such reverence. Such love.”

“It’s all I have left of it,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “The memories. If I don’t hold onto them, who will?”

The room fell silent again, the fire crackling softly in the background. You risked a glance at Ambessa and were startled to find her watching you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“I don’t know what it’s like,” she admitted, her voice uncharacteristically vulnerable. “To have a place like that. A home worth missing.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, unsure what else to say.

Ambessa shook her head, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t be. It’s the way of things. Some are born to build homes. Others are born to conquer them.”

The words stung, but there was no malice in her tone. Just honesty.

You looked at her then, really looked at her, and for the first time in awhile, you saw something beyond the fearsome general and calculating politician. You saw a woman who had been shaped by war and duty, just as you had. A woman who, perhaps, understood the weight of loss more than she let on.

“Arrilks is still standing,” you said, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “Because of this alliance. Because of us. That has to count for something.”

Ambessa’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she nodded, a solemn expression crossing her face. “It does.”

For the first time since your arrival in Noxus, you felt a flicker of something you couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t hope, exactly, but it was close. A fragile understanding, a bridge between two people who had once been nothing more than adversaries.

The fire burned low as the night stretched on, and though neither of you spoke again, the silence that settled between you felt different this time. Not empty, but full. Full of everything you hadn’t said, and everything you had.

—-

The flickering candlelight casts long shadows across the ornate walls of the study, dancing as if to the rhythm of a quiet storm that has yet to pass. The night is unusually still, the city sprawling below like a canvas of gleaming stone and iron. The usual hum of the noxus is muted in the distance, replaced by the crisp, sharp silence that fills the room you now stand in. It's this silence that draws you in, pulling you toward Ambessa, who stands at the grand window, her figure a silhouette against the twilight sky. The weight of her responsibilities, of the empire she's built and the fragile balance she treads, is almost palpable in the air between you.

You had expected this, after the heated argument in the council chamber. The sharp words, the heated tension, the relentless need for control—all of it had erupted like a thunderclap, and now, you find her here, stillness settling over her like a thick fog. She is alone, her posture unusually hunched, her broad shoulders burdened by something deeper than the ongoing political struggles. Something more personal, perhaps. And though she has yet to acknowledge your presence, you can see the weariness in her movements, in the way she stares out over the city with an intensity that has nothing to do with strategy and everything to do with something much more private.

For a moment, you stand in the doorway, contemplating whether to intrude upon her solitude. You know Ambessa well enough to understand that she does not welcome comfort, nor does she seek empathy. She does not need it. She is a woman who has learned to stand alone, to face the world with an unflinching gaze and the might of a general who has known the cost of leadership.

But as you watch her, the stiff set of her back, the slight slump of her shoulders that betray the unspoken weight she carries, a sudden impulse rises within you. Without thinking, you step forward, crossing the distance between you in quiet strides. Reaching her side, you hesitate for only a moment before your hand moves to her arm, a light, hesitant touch. It's a simple gesture, one that feels like a delicate offering, as if trying to bridge the chasm that has always kept the two of you separate. You push down your resentments towards the situation the both of you found yourself in, playing the role of her wife- not as a political gain, but as a source of comfort.

To your surprise, she does not flinch, nor does she pull away. Her body remains still, the only movement coming from the soft inhale she takes as if bracing herself for something. The tension in her frame is still there, but the sharp edges of her demeanor seem to soften. She allows the silence to stretch between you both, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air.

For several moments, neither of you speaks, the weight of the evening's events pressing down upon the both of you. But then, as if unable to bear the silence any longer, Ambessa finally turns her head, her dark eyes meeting yours with an intensity that, for once, feels more weary than calculating. She holds your gaze for a beat too long, as if weighing your sincerity, before her lips part, the words coming out in a low, almost defeated murmur.

"You think it's easy, don't you?" she says, her voice rough, laden with the exhaustion that has become so much a part of her. "To carry this, to wear the armor every day. To be the leader they expect me to be."

Her words cut through the air with a rawness that takes you off guard. Ambessa is not a woman given to admitting weakness, let alone vulnerability. Yet she was doing it once again. She has always been the one who stands tall, who commands respect with nothing more than the power of her presence. To hear her speak like this—so uncharacteristically open—makes your chest tighten, a sudden surge of empathy washing over you. You shake your head gently.

"I didn't ask for this," she continues, her voice growing quieter now, almost as if she's speaking more to herself than to you. "My father... he raised me to rule, to be strong. He had no time for softness, for weakness. And I..." She pauses, her jaw tightening as she looks away from you, eyes scanning the city below. "I had to be ruthless. It was the only way to survive. The only way to make sure I wouldn't be crushed beneath the weight of expectations."

You stand there, listening to her words, the gravity of her past sinking in. Ambessa's life has never been one of privilege or ease. She has not been born to the luxury of being seen as anything but a force of nature. Her upbringing, her father's harsh demands, have shaped her into the woman she is today—the Iron Lioness of Noxus. It's not just power she exudes, it's survival, born from the ruthless lessons she learned early in life.

And yet, as she stands here now, in front of you, a woman who has always prided herself on control, there's a crack in her armor. It's not much—just a tiny fissure—but it's enough to let you see the depth of the loneliness that has quietly defined her existence. The pain she's buried beneath layers of strategy, ambition, and cold pragmatism.

"Do you think I wanted this life?" she asks, her gaze returning to you with an intensity that could burn if it weren't so filled with something softer. "Do you think I wanted to build this empire only to watch it crumble? To live with the constant fear that one wrong decision could bring it all down?"

There's a tremor in her voice now, one that she quickly suppresses, but it's there. A crack in her unshakable exterior, and you feel something stir within you—sympathy, understanding, a deep, unsettling ache for the woman who has spent her entire life fighting for power, for control, only to find herself burdened by it.

Ambessa turns fully to face you now, her eyes searching yours, as though trying to gauge if you understand, if you can truly see her for who she is beneath the layers of command and strength. For the third time, you see that she is not the indomitable warlord she presents herself as, but a woman who has spent a lifetime trying to balance the weight of her legacy with the pain of her solitude.

"Sometimes I wonder if it was all worth it," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "If I've done enough to secure the Medarda name, or if I've just... destroyed everything that mattered."

The confession hangs in the air between you, raw and unfiltered, and it shakes you more than you care to admit. You can see the internal struggle etched across her face—the conflict between the woman who wants to protect her family and the woman who has sacrificed so much to ensure their power. There is no simple answer for her, no easy way out.

You find yourself stepping closer, instinctively reaching out to her once more, this time with a greater sense of understanding. The touch you offer this time is not tentative, but a quiet reassurance, the kind that you've never thought to offer her before. Ambessa may not crave affection, but there's something in the way she lets you get close, in the way she doesn't pull away, that speaks volumes.

"You've done more than enough," you say, your voice steady and calm, despite the emotions swirling within you. "You've fought for everything you have. And maybe... maybe that's enough. Maybe it's more than enough."

Her gaze softens more, just barely, and for a moment, the fierceness in her eyes fades into something quieter, something more human. It's a vulnerability she has not shown to many, and certainly not to you other than rare occasions—yet here it is, raw and exposed. Ambessa Medarda, the woman who has ruled with strength and authority, now standing before you in her most honest form.

"I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself for the things I've done," she says quietly, her voice laced with regret. "But maybe, in time, I can learn to accept them."

You don't answer at first, unsure of how to offer comfort to a woman like her. But you know one thing for certain—this moment, this shared silence between you both, is a turning point. You've seen a side of Ambessa that no one else has, and it changes the way you view her. She is not just the iron-willed general, the calculating tactician. She is a woman, scarred and burdened by her choices, but still standing—still fighting.

And in this silence, you find yourself drawn closer to her, not as a political partner, but as someone who understands the weight of her struggle. The ice between you begins to thaw, and in its place, something new begins to take root. It's not love—not yet, not fully—but it's something undeniably real. Something that connects you, however tenuously, to the woman standing before you.

Ambessa, the Iron Lioness, may never show weakness in the way others do. But in this moment, you understand that her strength lies not in her ability to remain unshaken, but in her willingness to let someone see her vulnerability—even just for a fleeting moment.

—-

The moonlight filters through the thick curtains of your room, casting a soft glow on the walls, but it does little to calm the restless thoughts that churn in your mind. You lie there, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. The stillness of the night is almost suffocating, and the weight of your own emotions presses down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. It's as if the world outside has faded into a distant murmur, leaving only the turmoil inside you.

Everything has changed. Or at least, it feels that way. The marriage you entered into—once a cold, calculated arrangement—has shifted beneath your feet. You didn't expect to find yourself here, caught in the subtle pull of something deeper than politics, deeper than necessity. And yet, here you are, tangled in a web of emotions that you didn't anticipate. Ambessa's presence in your life has evolved from one of mutual respect and obligation into something more complicated, something you're not sure how to name.

You sigh quietly, turning onto your side, your thoughts a maze of confusion and…strangely longing. The woman you married, the indomitable force that led Noxus with such strength, has revealed parts of herself to you that you never imagined. There's more to her than the iron-willed general and the calculating warlord. In the quiet moments, when the weight of her responsibilities isn't so overwhelming, you've caught glimpses of something softer. Something more fragile. And it's those moments that have begun to tether you to her, pulling you closer with a force you can't escape.

The door to the room creaks open, and you stiffen, your heart suddenly racing. The soft sound of footsteps follows, each one deliberate but muffled by the carpet. You don't need to look to know who it is. The air shifts in a way that only Ambessa can make it. Even in her weariness, there's a palpable strength in the way she moves—every step measured, every breath controlled. She's still the embodiment of power, but tonight, there's a quietness to her, an unspoken weight that hangs in the air.

Her figure appears at the edge of the bed, her face tired but softer than usual. There's no sharpness in her gaze, no command in the way she holds herself. Ambessa looks... human. The usual walls she builds around herself, the ones that keep others at arm's length, seem to have faded into the background. The exhaustion you see so often is visible in the curve of her shoulders and the slight droop of her chin, as if the day's battles—both on the battlefield and in the council chambers—have taken more from her than she's willing to admit.

"You still awake?" Her voice is quieter than usual, softer, as though she's uncertain whether she's intruding on your peace.

You turn your head to face her, offering a slight nod Her eyes search yours, as if seeking confirmation that she hasn't disturbed something sacred, something private. She hesitates for a moment, then moves toward the bed, her steps slow and deliberate. Without a word, she sits down beside you, the mattress shifting under her weight. Her presence is immediately overwhelming, even in this quieter state. It's like the room can't contain her—the strength and power that she exudes, even in her most subdued moments.

Ambessa doesn't sit at the far edge of the bed, as she might have in the past. No, she sits close, just a few inches away, her presence almost tangible. Her gaze is fixed forward, her hands resting on her lap, but there's a tension in her posture, a subtle stiffness that betrays the vulnerability she tries so hard to keep hidden, but for some reason let you see. And You can see it now, the weariness she's been carrying all day, it makes something stir inside you—a deep, instinctive desire to ease her burdens, to offer her some form of comfort.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The silence between you is thick, heavy with unspoken words.

And then, without warning, Ambessa reaches out. Her hand moves toward you, and for a brief moment, you wonder if she's about to pull back, if this is just a fleeting gesture, a moment of weakness that she'll regret. But she doesn't pull back. Her fingers brush lightly against your face, moving a strand of hair that has fallen out of place behind your ear. It's a small gesture, simple, almost tender. But the way her fingers linger against your skin—the warmth of her touch, the way it feels as if she's memorizing the shape of your face—sends a shiver down your spine.

You don't move, don't speak. The silence feels like a delicate thread, fragile but strong, weaving between you both. Ambessa doesn't say anything, and you don't expect her to. Words, for once, seem unnecessary. Her touch, so rare, speaks volumes. It's the kind of touch that transcends the cold walls of formality, a touch that bridges the distance between you.

She doesn't pull her hand away immediately. Instead, her fingers stay there for a moment longer, as if giving you a chance to process the weight of the gesture. The air feels charged now, heavy with the unspoken understanding that something is shifting between you both. What it is, exactly, neither of you can define, but it's there. In the way she sits beside you, in the way her hand hovers near yours, in the way her eyes are softer, less guarded.

When she finally withdraws her hand, there's an almost imperceptible sigh that escapes her lips, a sound that carries with it the weight of everything she's been holding in. It's the kind of exhale that tells you more than any words ever could—that, for just a moment, she has let go of the iron-clad control she's built her life around once again. And, in that silence, you realize that this moment, this fleeting tenderness, has made something between you feel more real than anything that's come before.

Ambessa doesn't lie down, doesn't shift away from you, but she stays close. The distance between you is barely noticeable now, and you're both aware of it—aware of how something has changed, how the boundaries between political partners, between two people who were once nothing more than allies, have blurred. The room feels warmer now, less like a place of duty and more like a place where something personal is happening.

You both sit there for what feels like an eternity, the quiet of the night wrapping around you. Ambessa's presence is still as strong as ever, but it no longer feels oppressive. She's not demanding anything of you. She's not expecting anything from you. For once, she's just here, as you are—two people, connected in a way that neither of you understands, but neither of you is willing to let go of.

Eventually, your eyes begin to flutter, the weight of the night finally taking its toll. But before you drift off to sleep, you feel the barest pressure of Ambessa's hand near yours, close enough that you could reach for it, could grasp it if you chose. But you don't. Not yet. Instead, you simply let it linger, the quiet promise of something unspoken hanging in the air.

You fall asleep with the soft hum of her presence beside you, the gentle warmth of her hand a reminder that this—whatever this is—has only just begun. And for the first time in a long while, you feel as if you are not alone. Not in this bed. Not in this life. Not in this strange, complicated journey you're both on.

In the silence of the night, you both remain close, but neither of you reaches for the other just yet. It's enough to be here, together, with the understanding that something is shifting between you, something deeper than either of you is ready to define.

—-

The air in the council chambers is thick with tension, suffocating in its heaviness. The arguments swirl around you, sharp and bitter, as the Noxian ambassadors lay out their demands. The sound of their voices reverberates off the cold stone walls, each one carrying an underlying threat. You've heard it all before—the political maneuvering, the veiled insults, the promises that are nothing more than traps. But today, it feels different. The stakes are higher than ever, and you can feel the weight of the situation pressing down on your shoulders. The eyes of the room are on you and Ambessa, waiting for a response, for a solution.

You glance at her, taking in the sharp lines of her profile as she listens intently to the ambassadors. Her umber skin glows under the flickering torchlight, her posture unyielding, a wall of strength that everyone in the room respects—and fears. Her dark eyes are focused, calculating, every word the ambassadors speak being weighed carefully. But beneath that sharp, unflinching gaze, you see something else today. Something you have noticed before, something you're only just beginning to understand.

There is a quiet vulnerability in her, one that only you seem to recognize. The faint furrow of her brow, the tightening of her jaw—these are signs that she is not unaffected, that the weight of the decisions she has to make is bearing down on her more than she lets on. But she hides it well, too well, for anyone to see except you. Her exterior remains intact, a polished mask of authority and control, but you can feel the strain, the pressure of her role as a leader, and it makes something stir in your chest. She is strong, but she is human too.

As the meeting drags on, your mind starts to wander. It's hard to focus on the specifics of the discussion when the pull of the woman sitting beside you is so strong. You've come to know her better over these last months—seen the strength she exudes, yes, but also the quiet moments of exhaustion, the subtle signs of doubt, the moments when she allows herself to be vulnerable. And in those moments, something shifts between you once again. You're no longer just no longer just two people playing a role in a larger game. You've become something else—something you can't quite name still, but something that feels undeniable.

You're interrupted by the sharp voice of the lead ambassador, pulling your attention back to the present. Ambessa straightens, her shoulders squared, her jaw set in a way that signals the end of the conversation. The meeting is over, the ambassadors leaving with their threats still hanging in the air, though you both know they will return. You can feel the tension, the pressure building in the space between you and Ambessa. But as the last of them files out, something happens. Another change.

Ambessa turns to you, her expression unreadable for a moment. Her dark eyes meet yours, and for the briefest of seconds, there's a flicker of something in her gaze. Something soft, something real. It catches you off guard as it always does, and before you can fully process it, she reaches for your hand.

Her fingers close around yours with a firmness that surprises you. There's no hesitation, no second-guessing. It's just a simple, direct touch, but in that moment, it means more than anything she could say. The gesture is subtle, but it's everything. It's trust. It's a recognition of your partnership, your bond, that goes beyond the politics of this union. It's the kind of trust that doesn't come easily, the kind that's forged through shared struggles, through long nights of planning and working side by side.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The silence between you is thick with meaning. Ambessa doesn't look away, her grip on your hand steady and sure. There's no mask now, no carefully constructed persona. It's just her, the woman who has carried the weight of an empire on her shoulders, the woman who has built something out of nothing, showing you a vulnerability that she doesn't show to anyone else. And you, the one she's chosen to trust, holds her hand in return.

You want to say something, to acknowledge the weight of the moment, but the words don't come. What can you say? What can you do to honor this silent exchange? Instead, you just squeeze her hand, a small but significant gesture of your own, and her lips curl into the faintest of smiles. It's a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, but it's there—a small crack in the armor she's so carefully constructed around herself.

The days that follow are filled with more meetings, more challenges, more moments where you and Ambessa have to rely on each other to navigate the delicate balance of power in both your clans. The trust that was forged growing deeper with each passing day. You find yourself leaning on her more, seeking her counsel, her guidance, and in turn, she begins to rely on you in ways that go beyond the political. It's an another subtle shift, but it's there. The walls that once separated you both—those walls built out of duty and distance—begin to collapse under the weight of shared struggles and quiet moments of intimacy.

There are times when you catch Ambessa in moments of quiet reflection, her sharp gaze softened as she stares out over the city, lost in thought. You've seen her in the heat of battle, commanding armies with the same cool efficiency that she uses in the council chambers. But in these quieter moments, when the weight of her responsibilities is too much to bear, she lets her guard down—just a little. And it's in those moments that you get to see her for who she truly is, not just the ruler, not just the warrior, but the woman who carries the weight of an empire on her shoulders, who has sacrificed so much to protect the legacy of her people.

And you, too, begin to let your guard down. You begin to trust her in ways you never thought possible. She's not just your partner in this union anymore; she's your ally, your confidante. There's a mutual understanding between you both that didn't exist before—a quiet recognition of the bond that's forming, a bond that's no longer just political, but deeply personal.

The day had been long—endless, even—but as the evening settled in, a quiet peace began to take over. The sounds of the city were distant now, muffled by the thick stone walls of the Medarda estate, leaving you in the comforting silence of the kitchen. The rhythmic chopping of vegetables echoed softly in the air as your knife sliced through them, the crisp sound a grounding reminder that for once, the world outside felt far away.

Ambessa stood beside you, her figure commanding even in the casual setting of your kitchen. She wasn't in her usual attire of armor or military garb but instead wore a simple, well-worn shirt and sweatpants. The comfortable, homey clothing contrasted sharply with her usual regality, but it only seemed to emphasize the ease between the two of you now. There were no power struggles here, no games to play—just two people, side by side, sharing a simple moment.

The sizzle of the pot on the stove filled the air as she stirred with careful precision, her concentration evident in the way she moved. She caught your gaze for a second, the corner of her mouth curving upward as she made a sharp comment about the quality of the meat you'd picked out for the meal. You laughed, a genuine chuckle, your shoulders relaxing under the weight of the sound.

"You're the one who picked it out," you teased, shaking your head. "You should know better."

Ambessa rolled her eyes dramatically, giving you an exaggerated look of exasperation. "Do I look like a chef to you?" she quipped, her voice laced with dry humor. "I'm a general, not a butcher."

You chuckled again, the sound so light, so easy, and it felt like a moment that would have been impossible just a year ago. Back then, her humor had been buried under layers of stoic authority, a shield she wore like armor. But now? Now, there was something softer to her—something more human. The laughter that passed between you felt like a bridge, connecting the pieces of your relationship that had once been locked behind walls.

As you finished chopping the last of the vegetables, you glanced up, your eyes meeting hers. For a moment, there was nothing but the warmth of the kitchen around you, and the soft, almost peaceful look on Ambessa's face. She wasn't the intimidating ruler now. She was just... Ambessa. A woman who had learned to find solace in the little things, in the way you had both begun to share your lives, no longer as political allies, but as something more.

There was an intimacy to the moment—something that felt fragile but real. You hadn't expected this when you'd first been thrust into this marriage. At the start, it had been nothing more than a political necessity, an arrangement that held no promise of affection or tenderness. But now, now it was different. There was a bond between you, one that was no longer defined by duty, but by shared experiences and understanding.

Dinner passed with easy conversation, the two of you speaking of everything and nothing. You talked about the empire—its struggles, its future—but also about small things. The mundane, the personal. And somewhere between all the words, you felt it—this quiet shift that had taken place between you two. You weren't just partners in a marriage anymore. You were friends. Allies. And something else, something deeper, was beginning to take root.

You didn't know when it happened, but you realized, in that quiet moment as you looked across the table at her, that you were beginning to feel affectionate towards Ambessa. Not just with her strength or her leadership, though you admired both more than you could express. But affectionate with her. The woman beneath the ruler. The woman who laughed with you in the kitchen. The woman whose eyes softened when she spoke to you. You realized that you loved all of it—the pieces that made her strong and the pieces that made her vulnerable.

And, as the evening drew to a close, you couldn't help but find yourself reflecting on it more. Falling in love with Ambessa wasn't something that had happened overnight. It had been slow, a gradual evolution that you hadn't even realized was happening until it had already taken root deep inside of you. It was all so simple, so profound. It was more than you'd ever expected, and you were certain—she felt it too.

——

The next morning, after a quiet breakfast together, you were walking through the house, passing by the training rooms. The Medarda estate was large, its halls and rooms vast and imposing, but there was a certain comfort in knowing its layout now. You had passed through the training rooms often enough, but today was different. You didn't expect to find her there.

You stopped for a moment when you saw her—Ambessa—moving with the same powerful precision you had grown accustomed to seeing on the battlefield, but there was something more relaxed about her. She wasn't in her usual tactical gear but instead wore a simple black sports bra and sweatpants, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail that showed off the smooth line of her neck. Sweat glistened on her skin, and the muscles in her arms and legs flexed with each movement. She was focused, her body moving with the kind of grace and power that you had only seen in battle, but this was different. This was something else entirely.

You watched, frozen for a moment, as she went through her drills. Her movements were fluid, controlled—each strike, each block, precise and powerful. But it was her body that caught your attention, her strength so evident in the way she carried herself. Her abs were defined, her shoulders broad and strong, and the sight of her muscles flexing under the strain of her movements made your pulse quicken.

And then, it hit you.

Damn. Your wife is kinda..

Your mind went into overdrive, and you couldn't stop yourself from muttering quietly to yourself, "damn."

It was like a punch to the gut—a sudden realization of just how attractive she was. Not just attractive in the way she could command a room or lead an army, but physically. The way her muscles rippled with every movement, they way her breasts bounced when she made a sharp turn or swing, the way she moved with confidence and grace that radiated power... it was alluring.

She paused, catching you in the middle of your stare, and you felt a rush of heat flood your face. Her eyes narrowed just slightly, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips, as if she knew exactly what you were thinking. There was something playful in her expression now, something that wasn't there when she was leading armies or making plans for battle. She was enjoying this, enjoying how flustered you looked.

"You like what you see?" she asked, her voice low and teasing.

You blinked rapidly, trying to pull yourself together, but you couldn't hide the sudden rush of heat in your cheeks. Ambessa's gaze was intense, her eyes lingering on you as if daring you to respond.

Swallowing hard, you managed a laugh. "I... uh, didn't expect to see you like this," you stammered, mentally kicking yourself.

Ambessa's smirk widened. "Maybe I should start training in front of you more often, then."

Your eyes widened, the playful challenge in her tone making your heart race in ways you hadn't expected. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to really appreciate her. The woman who had once been a distant figure, now up close, no longer just the leader of the Medarda house, but someone you were falling for—harder than you had expected.

"Well," you said, clearing your throat, "I wouldn't mind."

Ambessa's smile was teasing, but there was something deeper in her gaze. Something that told you, despite everything that had been said and done, despite the complex web you were caught in, she was feeling the same pull you did.

—-

One night, after another grueling day of meetings, you find yourself in the common room, trying to unwind. You're not really in the mood for company, but as the door creaks open, Ambessa steps in, her figure framed by the doorway. There's something different about her tonight—she's less sharp, less focused. The usual fire that fuels her seems dimmer, and she's quieter than usual. She pauses, looking at you with a faint, almost unreadable expression.

"Still awake?" she asks, her voice softer as it always seemed to be with you.

You nod, offering a faint smile. "I couldn't sleep."

She steps further into the room, her boots making soft sounds against the stone floor. You watch her as she crosses the room, every movement controlled, deliberate. Her face is tired, the lines of stress around her eyes a little deeper than usual, but there's also something tender in her demeanor.

Without saying anything more, she lowers herself beside you on the couch. The space between you is small, but the distance still feels like a chasm. You've grown accustomed to her commanding presence, to her strength, but tonight, there's more vulnerability that you can't deny. She sits in silence for a moment, her gaze fixed ahead, as though she's lost in thought.

You find yourself studying her, the way her shoulders slump ever so slightly, as though the weight of the day is finally too much to bear. Her fingers are tense, restless, as they curl around the edge of her sleeve. It's an unconscious gesture, but it tells you more than words ever could.

After a long pause, she shifts, turning slightly to face you. Her dark eyes meet yours, and there's a flicker of something in them—a softening that you haven't seen in a while.

"You don't have to do this alone, Ambessa," you say, your voice gentle but firm.

She exhales slowly, the weight of the words hanging in the air. "I know," she admits, her voice quiet, almost a whisper. "But I've always done it alone. It's how it's always been."

You move closer, not saying anything, just offering the quiet support that she hasn't asked for, but that she's beginning to accept. And then, as if it's the most natural thing in the world, you reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. It's a simple gesture, but it feels significant.

For a moment, she doesn't react, just stares at you with those dark, unyielding eyes. But then she reaches out, her hand finding yours, and she squeezes it gently. The contact is enough to say everything—trust, need, something deeper that neither of you can fully articulate.

Your thumb brushes across her hand. "You don't have to be perfect, Ambessa. I'm not asking for perfection."

She huffs, the faintest hint of a laugh escaping her. "Perfection? That's never been my thing."

The lightness of her tone makes you smile even more, Ambessa was being... human again. Not a ruler, not a general, but a woman who has carried too much on her own for too long, and who is now slowly learning that she doesn't have to anymore.

As the night drags on, the two of you talk—really talk—about everything and nothing. Politics, of course, but also small, personal things. The food you both like, the rare books you've both read, the things that make you laugh. There are moments of quiet laughter, moments of shared glances, moments where it feels as if you're no longer two people bound by duty, but two people who are beginning to understand each other on a deeper level.

And as the night deepens, and you both grow tired, Ambessa remains beside you, her presence solid and steady, a quiet promise that she is here, and that you, too, are here for her. When she finally stands to leave, she pauses, her hand lingering near yours. You don't hold it, not again, but the moment stretches between you, unspoken and undeniable.

"Goodnight," she says softly, her voice almost a murmur.

"Goodnight," you reply, your heart unexpectedly full.

—-

The day had started out like any other, filled with meetings and reports and the relentless demands of the Medarda estate. But today—today, there was a quiet defiance in you. The walls of the estate felt like they were closing in, and you were done with the suffocating air of politics, the endless games. You were done with the grand halls and ornate rooms. You needed to breathe.

You had mentioned it, half-joking, while walking through the courtyard. "I don't know about you, but I think I'm starting to suffocate in this place. Wouldn't it be nice to get out of here for a bit? Just... go somewhere normal?" You didn't expect anything to come of it, but to your surprise, Ambessa had listened.

The carriage ride into the city had been quiet, the only sound the occasional rumble of the wheels against cobblestone and the soft murmur of the horses. Ambessa had seemed thoughtful, more contemplative than usual. And you? You had felt a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. You hadn't been out in public like this in ages, certainly not since the marriage, and definitely not with Ambessa by your side. The thought of it left a fluttering sensation in your chest.

You were both dressed plainly for the trip, her choice of clothing casual yet still effortlessly commanding, while you kept it simple. No one would look twice at either of you—no layers of jewelry, no towering heels or extravagant dresses. Just two people walking among the crowds.

The market was alive with energy—vendors shouting, the scent of fresh bread, spices, and produce filling the air. People moved in every direction, navigating the bustling pathways between tents and stands, the occasional shrill call of a child's laughter ringing out. It was chaotic, but in a way, it was... freeing. You could almost forget the weight of your roles for a moment.

Ambessa moved with the ease of someone used to commanding space, her tall frame cutting through the crowd. She wasn't rushing, but she was moving at her usual pace, and you found yourself falling behind, struggling to keep up with her longer strides.

You tried to match her pace, your feet tripping over uneven cobblestones, your steps quicker than usual to catch up. The noise of the market buzzed in your ears, people jostling you from all sides. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the tightness in your throat as you worked to not lose sight of her.

You didn't want to make a fuss about it. You could manage. You didn't need to ask her to slow down or grab your arm. It was... silly, really, but you couldn't shake the feeling that this was one of those moments where you could finally be without the constant weight of the political and personal forces that pulled at both of you. So, you kept your pace, and let yourself feel the excitement of simply being here, out in the world.

That's when you felt it—a hand, warm and sure, clasping yours. Ambessa's fingers curled around yours in a way that felt so natural, as if you had always fit together in this unspoken way. Without looking back, she tugged you forward, guiding you through the sea of people with ease, her steady pull helping you keep up with her stride.

You didn't say anything—didn't need to. There was something about her touch that made you feel at ease, as though she had done it without even thinking, just instinctively. She was letting you be part of her world now, not as the ruler of the Medarda estate but as Ambessa—someone who cared about you more than the role she had to play. The thought made your chest tighten in a way you couldn't describe.

You were too lost in the feeling of her hand around yours to notice where she was leading you until you found yourself standing in front of a small stall, the scent of something sweet wafting up to your nose. Your stomach growled softly, and you glanced up, blinking when you saw the cinnamon rolls stacked neatly on display, their golden brown edges glistening with sugar.

You hadn't realized you were staring, but Ambessa had. You caught her gaze, and she smirked, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "You've been eyeing those for a while," she said, her voice laced with a teasing warmth. "I thought you didn't have much of a sweet tooth."

"I don't," you replied without thinking, but the truth was, you hadn't been able to stop looking at them. The smell of cinnamon and sugar had triggered some long-forgotten craving, one you hadn't had since before everything started to change.

Ambessa didn't wait for you to say another word. She let go of your hand for a brief moment, stepping up to the stall and speaking to the vendor, exchanging a few words that you didn't quite catch. Moments later, she was back by your side, a warm cinnamon roll in hand, its edges soft and inviting.

"I think you've earned it," she said, handing it to you with a playful grin. "Go ahead. It's yours."

You stared at it for a moment, your fingers wrapping around the soft paper that held it. Your stomach rumbled again, but there was something about the way she was looking at you, the warmth in her eyes, that made the simple act of accepting the cinnamon roll feel more significant than it should have. It wasn't just the treat in your hands—it was the gesture, the way Ambessa had thought of you in this small, seemingly insignificant moment.

"Thank you," you said quietly, and the words felt heavier than they should have.

"You're welcome," she replied softly.

As you took a small bite, the sweet warmth of the roll filling your mouth, you glanced up at her. Her gaze was soft, not the commanding one she usually wore. Instead, there was a tenderness in her expression that you hadn't expected.

"Is it good?" she asked, her lips curling into a small smile.

You nodded, taking another bite. "It's perfect."

She raised an eyebrow, her teasing nature returning. "Perfect for someone with a sweet tooth."

You laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep within. It felt good, to laugh with her like this. There was no weight to the moment, no politics hanging in the air, just the two of you in the middle of a busy market, eating cinnamon rolls like any other couple.

The quiet intimacy between you was unmistakable now. You realized, as the afternoon wore on and the two of you continued to explore the market together, that it was moments like this—moments of simplicity, of being with her without the expectations, the roles—that were slowly changing the way you felt.

You were falling for her. Not just because of her strength or her position, but because of this—the way she thought about you, the way she cared. It was in the small things. The way she noticed when you needed space, the way she held your hand without a second thought, the way she brought you a cinnamon roll when she saw you eyeing it.

It wasn't grand gestures or declarations, but in its own way, this felt more real than anything else. It was real in the way she was present with you, in the way you had trust in each other.

As you walked alongside her, the cinnamon roll now a sweet memory in your mind, you couldn't help but think that this—this was what you had been searching for. It wasn't just about the power, the politics, or the roles you played. It was about this—a partnership, an understanding, and something far more precious than just a forced marriage. Something real.

—-

The weight of the day presses down on you like the burden of a thousand stones. The council meeting was a disaster, a string of failed negotiations and unresolved conflicts. The frustration churns in your stomach, your body exhausted from the constant push and pull of leadership, compromise, and survival. It's become a rhythm now—the endless struggle to find balance, to find unity in a world that seems determined to pull everything apart.

You were thrust into this marriage by duty, by force, and now, a year and a half later, you're here—still navigating the complexities of this bond, still unsure of what exactly you and Ambessa have become. There's been a shift, you know that much. The power dynamics have morphed, twisted into something neither of you expected. Once, this union was about necessity. Now, it's something else. But what exactly that is remains unclear.

You're in your private quarters, the space familiar yet still a reminder of everything you've had to sacrifice. The bed looms large and empty, the quiet echoing around the lavish room. The tension in the air is thick, palpable, as if the room itself holds its breath, waiting. You try to focus on something—anything—to distract you from the knot in your chest, but there's no denying it. You miss her.

Ambessa.

You think of her the way you always do when you're apart: her broad shoulders, the power that ripples through her every movement, the piercing gaze that makes you feel like she's seen the depths of your soul. The scars on her skin, the roughness of her hands, the way she holds herself—every inch of her radiates strength, resilience, and something darker, something buried beneath layers of pride and duty.

But it's not just her strength that pulls you in. It's the vulnerability that flickers behind those sharp eyes when she lets her guard down, when the weight of leadership, of the world, becomes too much. In those moments, she's something else entirely—raw, conflicted, searching for solace. You've seen that side of her now, and you know it's there, deep inside, even though she does everything she can to keep it hidden.

The door to your quarters opens, and there she is.

Ambessa stands in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the flickering torchlight in the hallway. The contrast between her imposing figure and the soft light that spills into the room makes her seem even larger, more formidable, yet there's something softer in her posture tonight. Her shoulders are not as stiff, not as rigid as usual, and her jaw is unclenched, as though she's trying to shake off the weight of the day. Her hands, always so tightly held in check, are relaxed by her sides, and you notice the tension in her movements, the way she hesitates before stepping into the room.

Her gaze meets yours, and it's softer than it's ever been—no cold command, no dispassion. She's searching, seeking something, and you feel it hit you in your chest like a wave.

"May I?" Her voice is quieter than usual, a rare crack in her usual strength.

You nod, unable to speak, your breath caught in your throat. She crosses the room, her steps deliberate, each one echoing with a sense of finality. Her body fills the space between you, so tall, so commanding, and yet, there's an uncertainty in the way she stands before you.

Ambessa's eyes linger on you for a moment, studying you with an intensity that makes you feel exposed, but it's different this time. There's no hardness in her stare—only something unspoken, something raw, a yearning. It sends a shiver through you, makes your pulse race in your veins.

She's no longer the woman who commanded armies, who made difficult decisions without hesitation. Tonight, she's just... Ambessa. She's the woman who has lived with you, who has shared moments of vulnerability and tenderness, even if neither of you ever said the words.

"I need you," she finally says, her voice low and tight. There's an edge to it now, a sense of urgency, as if she's fought with herself for too long to keep the walls up. "Not because of duty. Not because of politics. Just... you."

The words hang between you like a spark in dry brush, a flame ready to ignite.

You swallow thickly, your heart hammering in your chest. Something in her voice makes it impossible to think straight, to hold onto the carefully constructed walls of detachment you'd built around yourself. She's cracked them wide open with just a few words, and suddenly, everything shifts.

You rise to your feet slowly, drawn to her in a way you can't resist. She doesn't step back as you approach, standing her ground, the muscles in her shoulders still tense, but there's something in her gaze—a flicker of trust—that makes you hesitate just before closing the distance between you.

Her hand reaches out, almost tentatively, as though she's testing the waters, unsure if she can truly take this step. You take her hand, your fingers brushing against the rough skin of her palm. Her touch is warm, strong, but it's different now. There's gentleness in it, a softness that she rarely allows. You draw her closer, your heart racing as her body presses against yours, the heat of her skin burning through the layers between you.

For a moment, you stand like that, just breathing, as if the world has stopped turning. You can feel the subtle tremble in her form, the way her breath quickens with the weight of everything unsaid.

Then, she tilts her head slightly, just enough for her lips to hover near your ear. Her breath is warm, soft, and it makes your skin tingle. "I've been holding this in," she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion. "I don't know what this is, what we are anymore, but I can't keep pretending it's nothing."

The words hit you like a physical blow. This is it. This is the moment everything changes. No more distance, no more hesitation. You turn your face toward her, searching her eyes—those dark, deep eyes that have seen so much and yet, in this moment, seem vulnerable in a way you've never seen before.

Without thinking, without hesitation, you lean in.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if you're both testing the waters, feeling each other out. It's not forceful, not rushed. It's gentle, careful, but it's electric. The touch of her lips against yours is a spark, the beginning of something that's been simmering beneath the surface for months, something you've both been afraid to acknowledge.

Ambessa's hands move, gripping your shoulders tightly, her touch grounding and insistent, as though she's afraid of letting go. You feel the heat of her body seeping into yours, the undeniable pull that draws you closer. The kiss deepens, slow and intentional, and the world outside this room disappears entirely.

Her body presses against yours, solid and warm, and you feel every inch of her—the strength in her arms, the power in her chest, the vulnerability in the way she allows herself to melt into you. Her scent is intoxicating, a mix of earth and leather, and you breathe her in as if you can't get enough of her.

You feel her heartbeat thud against your chest, rapid, urgent. It matches the quickening rhythm of your own. She pulls back for a moment, just enough to look at you, and her eyes are dark with desire, but there's something else there, too. Something deeper.

"This isn't just about the alliance, is it?" she asks, her voice thick with emotion.

You shake your head, barely able to speak as the words lodge in your throat. "No. It's not. It's... more."

A tremor runs through her, and you feel the shift in her entirely. The walls she's so carefully built over the years seem to crack and crumble, and you know, without a doubt, that this—you and her—is no longer a political game. It's something raw, something real, something forged in fire. The same fire that's burned in both of you, changing you in ways you can't even begin to describe.

Ambessa pulls you in again, her lips meeting yours with more urgency this time. It's not soft anymore. It's fiery, hungry, desperate, as if this moment is the culmination of everything you've both been holding back for so long.

Her hands are in your hair, pulling you closer, and you feel the heat of her skin, the strength of her frame, as she presses into you. The kiss deepens, the world outside this room irrelevant, as if nothing else matters but the two of you and the fire that has ignited between you.

Ambessa pulled back slightly, her breath warm against your lips. "I've spent my life building a legacy," she murmured, her voice low and husky. "A name that will endure long after I'm gone. And you... you were meant to be a pawn in that game. A means to an end. But now..."

She trailed off, her fingers slipping down to the hem of your shirt. She tugged it up, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. Her hands were on your skin then, her touch firm but gentle, exploring the curves of your body with a curious intensity. "Now," she continued, her voice a low soft mumble, "I find myself wanting... more." Her hand presses against your chest, forcing you gently down on the bed in one swift move.

Her hands slid down to your waist, her fingers working the clasp of your pants. You felt a flush of heat spread through you as she tugged them down with your panties, leaving you exposed, vulnerable before her. She knelt before you, her hands sliding up your thighs, her breath warm against your skin.

"Do you trust me?" she asked, her eyes locked onto yours.

You nodded, your voice catching in your throat. "Yes," you managed to whisper.

Her lips curved into a faint smile, and she leaned in, her mouth pressing against the soft, delicate skin of your inner thigh. You shivered, your hands gripping the bed as her teeth grazed your skin, her tongue flicking against it. Slowly, she moved higher, her breath hot against your cunt, her lips brushing against your folds.

You gasped, your hips bucking as her tongue slid between your folds, exploring you with a slow, deliberate intensity. She groaned against you, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through you. Her hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as she devoured you, her tongue flicking against your clit, her lips sucking and nibbling at your sensitive flesh.

You moaned, your head falling back against the pillows as she worked you, her tongue moving with a skill that left you breathless. Your hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer, your hips rocking against her face as the pleasure built, coiling deep within you.

"Ambessa," you gasped, her name a prayer on your lips.

She pulled back slightly, her breath hot against your slick folds. "Do you want me to stop?" she asked, her voice a low murmur.

"No," you moaned, your hips bucking against her face. "Please... don't stop."

She chuckled, a low, husky sound that sent a shiver down your spine, and then she was on you again, her tongue diving into you, her lips sucking and nibbling at your clit. The pleasure built, a tidal wave that crashed over you, leaving you trembling and moaning, your body writhing beneath her.

You came with a cry, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling. Ambessa knelt before you, a satisfied smirk on her lips as she licked them clean, her dark eyes gleaming with a fierce yet gentle hunger.

she murmured, her voice low and husky. "I won't let anyone take you from me."

She raised from the bed, unclasping her pants slowly, her golden eyes never leaving yours that was far more sensual than it should've been. She gets her underwear off and for the first time since the forced marriage you see your wife naked from the waist down. How her bare hips dips slightly, how she had a neat trimmed bush at the top of her mound.

She climbed onto the bed, straddling you, her hands sliding up your body, exploring every inch of you. Her lips pressed against yours in a fierce, possessive kiss, her tongue sliding into your mouth, claiming you completely.

"Do you understand?" she asked, her voice a low growl against your lips. "You're mine."

You nodded, your hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer. "Yes," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire and longing. "I'm yours."

She smirked, her hands sliding down to her own shirt, pulling it over her head and tossing it aside. She was left in her bra, the fabric straining against her muscular frame. Her hands moved to the clasp, unhooking it and letting it fall away, leaving her bare before you.

Her breasts were full and firm, her brown nipples hard and erect. You reached out, your hands trembling as you cupped them, your thumbs brushing against her nipples. She groaned, her hips grinding against yours, her clit pressing against your cunt.

"You're mine," she repeated, her voice a low promise as she rocked against you, her slick folds rubbing against yours. "And I'm going to make sure you know that."

Her hips moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm, her clit sliding against yours. Your hands fell from her breasts to tangle into the sheets, a soft moan falls from your lips that is quickly shut up by ambessa's mouth.

She broke the kiss, her hands sliding down to cup your breasts. Her thumbs brushed against your nipples, the sensation making you whimper. "You're mine," she repeated, her voice a low growl as she rocked against you, her slick womanhood rocking and rolling against yours, mixing your arousal with hers.

Your hips moved in sync with hers, the friction between your bodies sending waves of pleasure through you. You could feel the wetness between you, the sound of your bodies moving together filling the room. Ambessa's forehead rested against yours, her breath mingling with yours as she continued to move, her hips grinding against yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

"I hate that I married you out of political necessity," she said again, her voice softer this time. Her hips kept moving, her clit pressing against yours in a way that made it hard to focus on her words. "But that's not what this is anymore. You're more than a pawn to me now. You’re my wife.”

Her words sent a surge of emotion through you, your heart pounding in your chest. You reached up, your hands cupping her face as you gazed into her eyes.

She kissed you again, her lips soft and tender against yours. Her hips moved faster now, the pressure against your clit intensifying with each thrust of her hips. You moaned into the kiss, your fingers digging into her shoulders as you felt the tension in your body building.

You were so close again, the pleasure threatening to overwhelm you. Ambessa's hips moved harder, her clit grinding against yours in a way that made you cry out. She broke the kiss, her forehead resting against yours as she panted, her body moving with yours as you both chased your release.

"Let go," she whispered, her voice a low growl. "Let me feel you come."

Her words were all it took to push you over the edge. Your back arched, your body trembling as the pleasure washed over you. You cried out, your hips moving frantically against hers as you came, the sensation almost too much to bear.

Ambessa kept moving, her hips grinding against yours as she chased her own release. You could feel her clit throbbing against yours, the friction between you sending waves of pleasure through you. She moaned, her body tensing as she came, her hips still moving against yours as she rode out her orgasm.

She collapsed against you, her body trembling as she held you close. Her breath was warm against your skin, her heartbeat a steady rhythm against your chest. You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close as you both caught your breath.

The room was quiet, the air thick with the warmth of shared intimacy. There was a soft hum from the air circulating through the room, but otherwise, the silence felt heavy, yet comforting. Your body was still pressed against Ambessa's, your chest rising and falling with each steady breath, her skin warm against yours. The two of you lay tangled in the sheets, the weight of the world outside the door forgotten for a moment, as if time had slowed down to let you both savor this fragile stillness.

You could feel the slight thrum of her heartbeat against your own, the rhythm of it soothing, grounding. Her arm was draped over your back, her fingers brushing gently against your skin in absent-minded, slow circles. It was a contrast to the intensity of the moments before, a tenderness that spoke louder than words. Her touch was soft, almost reverent, as if she, too, was taking a moment to fully process what had just passed between you.

You nuzzled into her shoulder, pressing a light kiss against her skin, your lips barely brushing the curve of her shoulder. She hummed in response, a low, satisfied sound that vibrated through her chest and sent a comforting shiver through your body.

"You're okay?" You asked, your voice barely more than a whisper, as if speaking louder would shatter the fragile peace that enveloped you both.

Ambessa shifted slightly, her hand moving to rest gently on the back of your head, her fingers weaving through your hair in a slow, soothing rhythm. "I'm more than okay," she murmured, her voice low and raspy, still touched by the heat of your shared moment.

Her words settled into you, an anchor in the quiet. She sounded content, maybe even a little vulnerable—something you were getting used to hearing from her, something that made your chest tighten in a way that felt comforting.

You sighed, letting yourself melt further into her embrace, feeling the softness of her skin beneath your fingers as you traced lazy patterns along her arm, mapping out the lines and ridges of her muscles that were usually so defined with strength. But tonight, those muscles were relaxed, the tension of her usual hard exterior gone, and she felt more human, more tangible in a way that you loved.

Ambessa's fingers continued to run gently through your hair, the quiet intimacy of the moment filling the space between you. It felt right—this closeness, this calm after the storm. There was no hurry, no urgency. Just the steady pulse of her heartbeat, the rise and fall of her chest beneath you. You had learned in moments like these that this was the part of her you cherished most—the unspoken connection, the gentleness that only emerged after everything else had been shared.

"Thank you," you murmured, your lips against her skin once again, your words almost lost in the softness of the moment. "For everything."

Ambessa didn't say anything at first. She just held you closer, as if pulling you in even tighter, her arms a quiet reassurance. Then, after a long pause, she spoke, her voice as steady as ever, though there was a softness to it that you rarely heard.

"You don't need to thank me," she said, her thumb lightly brushing the side of your face. "You've never needed to."

There was something in the way she said it, a sense of permanence to her words that sent warmth flooding through you. Ambessa, the woman who had once kept herself so locked away, was showing you parts of herself that she never allowed anyone else to see. It felt both sacred and fragile, like you were sharing something that went far beyond mere companionship.

You pulled back just slightly, enough to look up at her face. Her eyes met yours, dark and intense, but there was a softness in them now that hadn't been there before. The usual walls were lowered, and in their place was something far more raw, more real. Her lips were slightly parted, her breathing steady and slow, but you could see the traces of emotion in her gaze—the unspoken feelings that lay beneath her usual stoic exterior.

Her fingers gently traced the line of your jaw, her touch almost like a caress, as if she were memorizing the feel of you against her.

"Do you feel okay?" she asked, her voice full of concern, a note of vulnerability seeping through, it made your heart flutter.

You smiled softly, a genuine warmth spreading through you as you met her gaze. "I feel perfect," you whispered, pressing a kiss to the palm of her hand as it lingered on your skin. "I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."

Ambessa's lips twitched into a faint smile, but it was different this time. It wasn't the hard smile of a leader, of someone who had to show strength to the world; it was a real, honest smile, a quiet one that spoke volumes. It made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered in that moment.

The two of you lay there for a while longer, tangled in sheets and each other's embrace, letting the quiet moments speak for themselves. There was no rush. No expectation. Just the quiet comfort of being with someone who, despite all the battles, all the struggles, had become something far more than you ever imagined.

And as you drifted off to sleep, her warmth still enveloping you, you realized that, despite everything that had come before, there was nothing more you needed than this—Ambessa, here with you, sharing in this rare, fragile moment of peace. And somehow, in the midst of everything, it felt like it was enough.

—-

The moon hung low in the sky as you sat by the window of the Medarda estate, staring out at the sprawling city of Noxus. Its jagged architecture and war-hardened people, once so foreign and intimidating, now felt strangely familiar. The streets below bustled even in the dead of night, yet all you could hear was the faint crackle of the fire behind you and the soft, rhythmic breaths of Ambessa as she sat in her chair across the room.

The silence between you was companionable now, not the suffocating chasm it had been when you first arrived. Back then, every second in her presence had felt like a punishment. Back then she was everything you feared about this alliance—a looming figure who represented your loss of freedom, a woman who seemed too hardened to care about anything beyond strategy and conquest. You had hated her with a ferocity you hadn’t known you were capable of.

But that hatred had softened over time. It hadn’t happened all at once—it was a slow, reluctant process. It began with the glimpses you caught of her when no one else was looking. The way she stood by the window late at night, her shoulders heavy with a weight she rarely let others see. The small, almost imperceptible sighs she let slip when she thought no one was listening. And then there were her words—few and far between, but meaningful. She didn’t speak often, but when she did, it was with purpose, and there was always something in her tone that hinted at the depth she kept buried beneath her stoic exterior.

The turning point had been the argument. That night when you had finally broken, when the weight of your forced marriage and your duty to your people had become too much to bear. You had screamed at her, vented every ounce of frustration and anger you had bottled up since the day you arrived in Noxus. And instead of meeting your fire with her own, Ambessa had listened. She had understood. And for the first time, you saw her not as the enemy, not as the conqueror who had taken everything from you, but as someone who was just as trapped as you were.

Ambessa began to let you see her vulnerability, not just in fleeting moments but in ways that felt deliberate.

You began to notice the way her eyes softened when she looked at you, the way her voice grew gentler when she spoke your name. You started to see the care in her actions, the quiet way she made space for you in her life without demanding anything in return.

The first time you realized you loved her, it had startled you. It was during one of those rare quiet moments. The realization hit you like a wave, sudden and undeniable: you didn’t just care for her. You loved her.

It wasn’t the kind of love you had ever imagined for yourself. It was messy, complicated, and born out of circumstances you wouldn’t wish on anyone. But it was real. It was deep. And it was yours.

The marriage that had once felt like a prison now felt like a partnership. You weren’t just playing roles anymore. You weren’t just fulfilling a duty. You were building something real, something meaningful, something that belonged to both of you.

Tonight, as you sat by the window, watching the city you had come to call home, you thought about how far you had come. The woman you had once hated now sat across the room, her presence a source of comfort rather than conflict. Ambessa glanced up from her work and caught your gaze, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, her voice low and steady.

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to tell her the truth. “You,” you said softly. “Us.”

Her expression shifted, her dark eyes searching yours. “Good things, I hope.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with a warmth that still felt new, even after all this time. “The best things.”

She set down the papers she had been reading and rose from her chair, crossing the room to stand beside you. Her hand found yours, her touch grounding you in a way nothing else could.

“I never thought this would happen,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never thought we’d get here.”

“Neither did I,” she said, her tone soft but honest. “But I’m glad we did.”

You looked up at her, the firelight casting shadows across her strong features. In her eyes, you saw everything—the strength that had once intimidated you, the vulnerability she had let you see, the love that now bound you together.

For the first time, you didn’t feel like you were in a forced marriage. You felt like you were home.

Ambessa leaned down, her forehead resting against yours. It was a simple gesture, but it carried the weight of everything you had been through together. Everything you had fought for. Everything you had built.

“I love you,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Her hand tightened around yours, her voice steady and sure as she replied, “And I love you.”

The words were a promise, a commitment, a declaration of something that no longer felt forced or contrived. It was real. It was yours. And it was enough.

[formulawolff]

“you better.” — t.w.

pairing -> female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count -> idk y’all, my bad

warnings -> boss x employee dynamic, slight power imbalance, angst, cursing, gg being a little bit of a brat, toto being down bad (he would do anything for his woman, and he means it!), sexual innuendos, yadayadayada

a/n -> hiiiii it's me! i'm back with another gg x toto installment. i'm sorry if the writing is not my best, i've been a little rusty. this fic was a request idea sent to me a few weeks ago. anon, this one is for you! i hope y'all enjoy reading about them! <3

"god fucking damnit!"

blood roars in his ears as her helmet collides against the wall, forming a sizable dent. paint chips flutter to the floor, the figure inhaling a sharp breath as curses roll from her tongue, the driver pacing back and forth.

"fuck, fuck, fuck!"

the figure's jaw clenches as her arm sweeps along the nearest table, sending items flying in her wake.

all right, that was it.

the final straw.

time to intervene.

"you need to cut it out. you're acting like a child. you of all people know tantrums get you nowhere."

at his sentiment, her head swivels, nothing but pure, fiery rage flickering about in her stare. strands of hair are plastered to her forehead, her lip curling into a sneer.

"your orders cost me two positions. it cost me a podium this weekend. i think i deserve to be a little upset about it."

"it's only the beginning of the season, love," toto wolff tuts, folding his arms across his chest, "you have time to make up for it. you have so much time to win the title."

at his statement, she pauses, her brows furrowing together. he can sense her fury dissolving by the second, her rigid muscles relaxing as her shoulders slump. silence creeps in as she crosses over to the couch, curling up in the fetal position.

to put it lightly, it was a tough opening weekend in melbourne.

not only did she have to deal with the wake of the loss to max, she had difficulty familiarizing herself with the new car. the media was in a frenzy, circling around like vultures every single time she moved or spoke. fuck, she could barely even breathe without a microphone close by.

toto couldn't imagine how draining it must have been to deal with it all. there was an instance over the weekend where a reporter inquired about their sex life. following that, there were numerous questions involving when he was going to propose, when they were planning on having kids, and if she would retire if they had children.

she executed a brilliant drive during qualifying, managing to snag the third position on the grid, just behind lando and max. if all went according to plan, she would be able to push past lando at the start of the race, and be able to battle it out with max for the victory.

at the start of the race, she drove beautifully. she was able to surge ahead and get past both max and lando, sailing into the first position.

it was going perfectly until lap twenty-three, where there was a mishap with the steering. following the error came a miscommunication with strategy. although toto knew the tires would last a few more laps, it was not his call to bring her in to the pits.

the pit crew was not quite ready, fumbling with two of the tires. it was a painfully slow stop, her radios reflecting exactly how toto felt about the fiasco.

the call for the early pit ultimately cost her three positions, which ended up crushing her hopes of a podium on opening weekend.

following the race, she exchanged some heated words with the media. something along the lines of, "fuck off or you're going to feel that boom mic up your ass." of course, that sent social media into a frenzy.

so, when she decided to release some pent up emotions in her driver's room after the race, toto let her.

he couldn't blame her, really. this weekend was an absolute shit show.

yet, he knew they had to move forward from it. the helmet could be replaced. the dent in the wall could be patched. the team strategy could be tweaked.

there was nothing he wanted more than to just wrap her up in his arms, bringing her tightly against his chest. he ached to just hold her, murmuring all of the reassurances she needed to hear. he yearned to just pepper her beautiful face with endless kisses, just to hear that melodic giggle ring in his ears.

he couldn't though.

at least, not yet.

the team principal stays put, waiting until she gives him the cue.

it wouldn’t be verbal. it would be the way her body would shift toward him, inviting him over. it would be the way her arms would droop, begging to be held.

it wouldn’t be too much longer. any minute now.

as expected, she practically sinks into the couch, pleading for some sort of comfort.

there it was, that cue he was desperately waiting for.

he strolls over, settling into the cushion next to her, wrapping an arm around her frame.

"i-i just wanted to get a head start," there's a tug at his heart as her voice falters, "i wanted to prove to everyone that i could compete with max this time. i just wanted to win a fucking race after what happened last ye-"

"my love," the team principal exhales, a tender hand connecting with her back, just between her shoulder blades, "you have to keep your head up. you are not a failure just because you didn't finish on that podium. you are not defined by what happened last season. things are different now, so much more different."

in the light, he catches the gleam of a tear as it rolls down her cheek, "i just know they're all talking about me. they want nothing more than to see me lose. i just wanted to prove them wrong."

"we have so much time do that," his voice is barely a murmur, "we will make you a champion, my sweet girl. don't worry about what they all think. focus on me. focus on us. focus on how we can correct our mistakes."

the tears are flowing now, the streams glistening as she sits up, pressing her body against his. her head nuzzles into his chest, lashes fluttering as his hand begins to roam, gently kneading into her sore muscles.

"i-i'm sorry."

the words are merely a whisper, but toto hears them.

"why are you apologizing, sweet girl?"

"for acting like a brat," she still won't meet his gaze, her eyes fixated on the door, "i shouldn't have thrown my helmet."

the team principal hums, his fingers treading along the zipper of her suit, "it's all right, love. i think you should do it again, actually."

"stop it," she huffs, rolling her eyes, "you just thought my little outburst was hot."

"quite," his mouth ghosts over her ear, "take that anger out on me, actually. you know, you're quite sexy when you're all riled up."

"maybe i will." the corners of her lips twitch, and toto can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction.

she was fighting a smile, and fuck, was she fighting one hard.

carefully, she swings a thigh over his lap, straddling him as the tip of her nose brushes against his, "maybe i will take my anger out on you, toto. i want you to do something first, though."

in his khakis, he feels his cock stiffen, his throat tightening as she leans in even closer, "w-what is it, my love?"

fuck, he did he loathe how much power she held over him.

she cocks her head, a hand drifting to his cheek. her thumb trails along his cheekbone, relishing the way he completely crumbles under her touch.

"i want you to inform the fia that i will not be participating in any press for the next three races. will you do that for me?”

“sweet girl, you know i can’t do that—“

“please?” he can’t help but notice the way her bottom lip juts out ever so slightly.

all it would take is for her to bat those lashes once, and he would be done for.

and to his dismay, she does just that, “i just can’t handle the press right now. it’s too much and—“

“consider it done, my love. a statement will be out by the morning.”

“good boy,” she purrs, pressing her forehead against his, “you’re the best.”

“anything you want or need, it will be handled. i can promise you that. i will do everything in my power to make sure that you become champion.”

her lips press against his, a shiver running down his spine as she smirks, rolling her hips. it takes everything in his power to stifle a groan as her fingers delve into the waistband of his khakis, his cock throbbing.

she has him right where she wants him, but he doesn’t mind.

not. at. all.

she was his princess, after all.

and what his princess wanted, she got.

it only takes four words for him to come undone, any coherent thoughts slipping from his mind as her hand wraps around his shaft, his breaths coming out in pants.

“you better, toto wolff.”

[the-owl-tree]

will not post them often since they don't fit the Blog Qualifications. but im going to treat myself to one (1) post and show everyone my blorbos from my head

are anthro stories xenofiction. by definition they are but im wondering like on a Vibes based level if people would put them in that specific genre or keep it separate

[deliciousangelfestival]

Let's Play Pretend - 1 | Bucky

Character: Bucky Barnes x singer! Female reader

Summary: You just wanted to hide here and find peace from the mess that wasn’t caused by you. But then, your hot neighbor bothered you. As if that wasn’t enough, the enemies you hated found you too.

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 ,-

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband on Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Shocking Split! Y/N L/N Dumps Fiancé After Drug Party Scandal

Betrayal Drama! Y/N L/N’s Manager Caught Stealing Millions for Gambling

Where’s Y/N? The Singer Vanishes Amid Scandals!

“I’ve always wanted to be a singer, but I never had the confidence to stand on a stage—until my music teacher, Mrs. Walls. She believed in me.”

Mrs. Walls sighed as she watched your Grammy interview on TV. You looked radiant, glowing with excitement after winning such a prestigious award. As a music teacher with years of experience, she had worked with many talented students, but you stood out uniquely.

At first, you were the shyest student in her class, hardly speaking above a whisper. But what surprised her the most was your natural gift: a perfect pitch. You could write down the notes to a song after hearing it just once, and you picked up musical instruments with ease. She vividly remembered showing you basic piano chords; within minutes, you were playing along effortlessly. The same thing happened when she introduced the guitar.

Her fondest memories were of you standing shyly at the front of the class, yet lighting up when it came to music. She smiled as she recalled your speeches at award shows: “I wouldn’t be here without my music teacher, Mrs. Walls. She was the first person who put faith in me.”

“That’s the last interview she gave us,” the gossip channel host said dramatically, feigning concern. “It’s been three months since anyone’s seen her. Where is Y/N L/N?”

Mrs. Walls frowned and turned off the TV with an annoyed grunt. “Urgh. Gossip vultures,” she muttered under her breath. She grabbed a glass of lemonade from the fridge and walked out to her garden. She noticed her guest seemed lost in thought, staring off into the distance. It had become a habit whenever she was in the garden.

“You’re not thirsty, huh?” she teased lightly, holding the glass toward someone sitting under the garden umbrella.

The person she handed the drink to was none other than the missing singer, Y/N L/N. For three months, the paparazzi had been on your trail, but they had no idea you were hiding here—in the sanctuary of your former music teacher’s home.

Mrs. Walls still remembered the night you appeared on her doorstep, mascara streaked down your face, eyes red and swollen from crying. You looked nothing like the glamorous star she’d seen on television, but instead like a lost child searching for safety.

“I don’t know where else to go,” you had whispered, your voice trembling.

In that moment, she didn’t see the world-renowned singer. She saw the shy, seven-year-old girl who used to sit in her classroom, clutching her music notebook like a lifeline. She hugged you tightly, her heart breaking for you. “Stay as long as you need, my dear,” she had said softly, ushering you inside.

Since that night, you’d been living quietly in her guest room. The once-vibrant star barely spoke, and the silence worried Mrs. Walls more than she let on. She watched as you avoided stepping outside, terrified of being recognized. The only place you seemed at peace was her garden.

She wondered, How long will you keep hiding like this?

You took the lemonade from her hand with a quiet “Thank you” but set it on the small table beside you without taking a sip. Sitting on the bench, you leaned back, tilting your face up toward the sky. The sun was warm, filtering through the leaves of the garden trees. Through your Ray-Ban sunglasses, you watched the golden rays dance, letting them calm your stormy thoughts.

Here, in this little haven, you could pretend the outside world didn’t exist. The judging eyes, the betrayals, the relentless cameras—everything melted away in the sunlight.

You thought back to three months ago, just after wrapping up your world tour. It had been the most significant milestone in your career, a dream come true. Exhausted but proud, you returned home, excited to move on to the next chapter of your life—starting a family with your fiancé.

But the moment you landed, things began to unravel. You’d called your fiancé multiple times, but he didn’t answer. At first, you thought he was busy, but a nagging feeling in your chest wouldn’t go away.

When the truth finally came out, it shattered you. Your assistant broke the news: your fiancé had been busted at a drug-fueled party. Worse, it was also a sex party.

You felt your chest tighten at the memory. That betrayal had cut deep. But it wasn’t the only one.

Later that week, you discovered that your longtime manager, someone you trusted implicitly, had embezzled your money to feed a gambling addiction. Two people you thought you could rely on had betrayed you in the worst ways possible.

One night, overwhelmed and broken, you drove aimlessly, tears blurring your vision. Without any plan or destination, you just kept going until you found yourself parked outside Mrs. Walls’ familiar home.

Even after all these years, she had always been honest with you. When you needed guidance, she gave it without hesitation. If she thought something was right, she’d say, “Go for it, my dear.” If it wasn’t, she’d warn, “No. You deserve better.”

Now, sitting in her garden, you sighed and closed your eyes, letting the sunlight warm your face. For a moment, you could almost believe you were that shy student again before fame and heartbreak had found you.

Mrs. Walls watched you silently, her heart heavy. She wanted to help, but she knew you needed to find your way back on your own.

“How long are you planning to hide here?” she finally asked, her voice gentle but firm.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you opened your eyes and looked at her. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Just like this, Mrs. Walls worried about you. You knew you were taking advantage of her kindness, aware she wanted you to step out of your shell, but you weren’t ready. The thought of facing the questions, the prying eyes, and the silent judgment was too much.

Just a little more time, you thought. That’s all I need. And some peace.

But peace wasn’t always easy to come by.

"VROOM!"

A sudden loud roar shattered the tranquility of the garden. The grating sound of a lawn mower filled the air, making you wince. You covered your ears, irritation flashing across your face.

Your gaze turns toward the source of the noise. “It’s already noon. The sun’s scorching hot—what kind of madman decides this is the best time to mow their lawn?”

“Well…” Mrs. Walls trailed off, watching the man seated atop the lawn mower. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

It's her neighbor, a man who had recently moved in. He wasn’t just any neighbor—he was one of her former students. Not from her music classes, though. He’d been one of the troublemakers, a kid who lived on detention slips and second chances.

“Bucky!” she called out, her voice carrying across the garden.

The man paused, cutting the engine. The deafening noise stopped, leaving an almost eerie silence in its wake. He climbed off the lawn mower, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

You squinted, ready to roll your eyes, but then your gaze lingered for a moment longer than you wanted. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his broad chest glistened with sweat. The sun highlighted the sculpted lines of his six-pack, and every step he took radiated an infuriating confidence.

Great, you thought bitterly. Annoying and ridiculously good-looking. Just my luck.

Mrs. Walls met him halfway, handing him a glass of lemonade. “Thank you,” Bucky said, his voice low and smooth.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled your eyes. “You’re welcome for the noise pollution,” you muttered loud enough for him to hear.

He turned, raising an eyebrow at you. “You’re welcome for cutting the grass, princess.”

“Princess?” you repeated, your tone sharp. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re out here ruining everyone’s peace, and I’m the problem?”

He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest, the gesture only drawing more attention to his muscles. “Stop acting like a diva.”

Your jaw dropped. “I am a diva!”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, taking a long sip of lemonade.

“What rock have you been living under?” you snapped, glaring at him.

He rolled his eyes dramatically, his expression shifting to one of mild exasperation. What you didn’t know was that Bucky wasn’t as clueless as he seemed. For the past three years, he’d been living under the radar, cutting ties with his old life. His job had demanded secrecy, isolation, and sacrifice. He didn’t have the luxury of keeping up with the world, let alone pop culture or celebrity news.

The truth was, he hadn’t recognized you—not as the world-famous singer everyone else seemed to adore. To him, you were just the frustrating woman who had suddenly appeared in Mrs. Walls’ house and made everything more complicated.

But even as irritation bubbled under his skin, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued. There was a fire in you that clashed with his rough edges, and it both annoyed and fascinated him.

For Bucky, Mrs. Walls had always been a comforting presence—a grandmother figure who offered him advice and a safe space to talk. Her home had become a haven. And then you showed up.

Now, that peace was gone, replaced with constant banter and an energy that made it hard for him to stay indifferent.

Mrs. Walls watched the two of you, her lips twitching as if suppressing a smile. Despite your usual quiet demeanor, you seemed to come alive whenever Bucky was around.

“You two are like a pair of bickering children,” she muttered under her breath.

“Excuse me?” you said, shooting her a look.

“Nothing, dear,” she replied with a knowing smile, sipping her lemonade.

Bucky glanced at you, shaking his head. “You know, for someone who wants peace and quiet, you sure have a lot to say.”

“And for someone who wants to mow the lawn, you sure talk a lot for no reason,” you shot back, folding your arms.

Bucky laughed, low and mocking. “This is going to be fun.”

“Fun for you, maybe,” you muttered, turning your attention back to the garden, though your face was still flushed from the exchange.

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but glance at his retreating figure, hating how effortlessly confident he looked. Bucky, meanwhile, shook his head, pretending not to notice you watching him.

Both of you were equally exasperated—and similarly intrigued.

Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin, holding it up between two fingers with a smug grin. “Alright, princess, let’s make a deal. If it lands heads, I’ll keep mowing. If it’s tails, I’ll stop, and you can go back to your precious nap.”

You crossed your arms tightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “I hate this game,” you muttered, watching as the coin gleamed in the sunlight. He always did this—turning everything into some sort of challenge just to get under your skin.

Bucky smirked, clearly enjoying your irritation. “I know. That’s why it’s so much fun.”

Rolling your eyes, you huffed, “Tails.”

He nodded mock-seriously, flicking the coin into the air with practiced ease. It spun rapidly, catching the light with every turn before landing in his palm. He slapped it onto the back of his hand, then slowly revealed the result with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Heads,” he declared, his voice full of triumph.

“Ugh!” You threw your hands in the air, frustrated, pushing off the bench. As you stomped toward the house, the wooden slats creaked behind you, muttering, “I’m getting noise-canceling headphones.”

Mrs. Walls watched you retreat inside, shaking her head with a fond smile. She turned to Bucky, who was spinning the coin between his fingers like a magician showing off his trick.

“You really should stop teasing her,” Mrs. Walls said gently, her tone a mix of reproach and amusement.

Bucky shrugged, slipping the coin back into his pocket. His lips curled into a devilish grin. “Nah… it’s fun.”

🌷🌷🌷🌷

You peeked through the blinds, trying not to let the soft rustle of the fabric give you away. Outside, Bucky was still chatting casually with Mrs. Walls. He leaned against the handle of the lawn mower, his broad shoulders relaxed, and his expression unusually serene.

How could he be so normal and polite with her, yet every time he spoke to you, it felt like he lived to make you grit your teeth?

You narrowed your eyes, watching him laugh at something Mrs. Walls said. That face… you thought bitterly. What a waste of a perfectly good jawline and those stupid dimples.

Letting the blinds fall back into place with a soft snap, you turned away and headed to your room.

Inside, the space was dim, the curtains drawn tightly against the glaring afternoon sun. The cool, muted light was a welcome contrast to the irritation buzzing in your head. You kicked off your slippers with a little more force than necessary and flopped onto the bed, burying your face in the pillows.

The mattress was soft, and the faint scent of lavender from the room’s diffuser helped ease the tension in your shoulders. But even as you lay there, trying to block out the world, your mind kept drifting back to the smug grin on Bucky’s face and the way he seemed to revel in riling you up.

“Urgh,” you groaned, rolling onto your side and hugging the pillow close. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to forget about him.

Eventually, the steady hum of the ceiling fan and the distant chirping of birds outside began to lull you into a state of calm. Your breathing slowed, and your grip on the pillow loosened. For now, rest was the only thing you wanted—a reprieve from the relentless antics of your maddeningly handsome neighbor.

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

The dream came fast and vivid, like a storm. You were running—barefoot, your breath ragged and your heart pounding in your chest. Behind you, shadowy figures loomed, their voices sharp and cruel. The flash of cameras blinded you, their light like fire against your skin. You kept running, your legs aching, but the ground felt like quicksand, pulling you down.

You jolted awake, gasping for air. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as your heart raced, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to your mind. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, you saw the dim, glowing numbers: 2:00 a.m.

Sleep felt impossible now. The stillness of the house, once comforting, now felt suffocating. You swung your legs off the bed and walked to the window, pushing it open. Cool air rushed in, brushing against your flushed skin and carrying the faint scent of dew and earth.

“Should I go out?” you murmured to yourself. It was late—no, it was early—and the world outside was likely asleep. It might be safe.

Pulling on a hoodie and sweatpants, you crept quietly through the house. Every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet made your pulse spike, but you pressed on, determined. When you reached the door, you hesitated, your hand resting on the doorknob.

Flashes of the past flooded your mind—the crowd of paparazzi outside your apartment, shouting your name, their cameras clicking incessantly, their relentless pursuit. You clenched your eyes shut and took a deep breath.

“It’s different here,” you whispered, willing yourself to believe it. Slowly, you pushed the door open and stepped outside.

The cool grass greeted your bare feet as you stepped off the porch, the gentle night breeze brushing against your face. There was no one. No voices. No flashing lights. Just silence and the soft rustling of leaves in the dark.

You exhaled deeply, relief washing over you like a wave. One tentative step after another, you left the house, the distance growing between you and your sanctuary.

You wandered toward the park, the faint glow of streetlights guiding your way. The world felt peaceful, and for the first time in months, so did you—until the faint hum of an engine broke the stillness.

You glanced over your shoulder, your pulse quickening. A car was following you, its headlights low but its presence unmistakable. Then you saw it—a glint of metal, the unmistakable outline of a camera lens.

Shit. They’d found you.

Your heart pounded as the car crept closer. Picking up your pace, you started walking faster, then broke into a run.

“Y/N! Where have you been?” a voice called out from the car, loud and intrusive.

You didn’t answer, your breath quickening as you pushed yourself to move faster.

“Have you heard your ex-fiancé has rekindled things with his ex?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. What? Your mind reeled. You hadn’t even ended things officially, and he’d already moved on? That bastard. While you were here, broken and dealing with trauma, he was playing house?

“Is it true you gave money to your manager, knowing about his gambling addiction?”

You stopped dead in your tracks, glaring at the man hanging out of the car window. “No! I didn’t know! Leave me alone, you jerk!”

You started running again, your breath burning in your lungs, your legs aching. Desperation clawed at you as the car followed relentlessly. Then you saw him—a familiar figure jogging under the streetlights.

“It can’t be,” you whispered.

Without thinking, you sprinted toward him, your voice frantic. “Bucky! Help me!”

Bucky stopped mid-stride, his brows furrowed as he saw you running toward him. His routine early-morning jog had just turned unusual. His sharp eyes quickly took in the distress written all over your face. Before he could react, you leaped behind him, clutching the back of his hoodie and crouching slightly to shield yourself.

He stiffened, caught off guard. Then he saw it—a car slowing down, its passenger wielding a camera that kept flashing incessantly. The bright lights blinded him momentarily, and irritation sparked in his chest.

“Hey!” Bucky growled, marching toward the car. The camera flashes continued, and without hesitation, he snatched the camera from the paparazzo’s hands and smashed it against the pavement.

The paparazzo’s jaw dropped in shock. “My camera!” he yelled, scrambling to pick up the broken pieces.

But he wasn’t done. Pulling out his phone, the man began recording. “You’re a dead man! Who the fuck are you? Her boyfriend? Bodyguard?”

Bucky, his irritation mounting, opened his mouth to correct him, but before he could, you blurted out, “He’s my boyfriend.”

Bucky froze, glancing over his shoulder at you. Your grip on his hoodie tightened as you peeked around him, glaring at the paparazzo.

The man in the car stared at the two of you, his phone still recording. “This is going to be front-page news.”

Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What the hell did you just drag me into?” he muttered under his breath.

Exciting News!

I’m thrilled to announce the release of my new book, Dad, I Can’t Let You Go—a heartfelt collection of short poems about loss, love, and the journey of missing someone deeply. This book is dedicated to my father and to anyone who has experienced the pain of losing a loved one.

Available now on E-Kindle Amazon!

Dad, I Can't Let You Go! <<< Here's the link.

Thank you for your support, and I hope these poems resonate with you.

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[chaoticladyfire]

Things I screamed about in ATSV (spoilers)

-Got to rewatch the film so I’m just going to add the colours changing to warmer tones when Gwen hugs her father. Not even ten minutes in and I was already crying.

-Realised that we missed the Gwen-Vulture fight BUT got to see Jessica Drew enter the scene like a bad ass in her bad ass bike and hearing the audience collectively say ‘me too’ when Gwen asked if Jessica could adopt her. 

-Screaming OSCAR ISAAC when Miguel spoke

-Lyla. Just Lyla.

- ‘Do you say anything other than no?’ ‘No-YES!’ more of miguel and jessica pls

-The Spot’s introduction. I didn’t see any promotional stuff, teasers or even trailers before watching this film so I had no idea who or what the The Spot was which was great because he really went from villain of the week to villain of the movie. And they clearly had a great time choreographing the fight scenes with him

-Miles’ heating up the beef patty while the spot and the convenience store man argue

-Miles patting the spot’s with a ‘good cow’ text

-Gwen and Miles both having to deepen their voices to avoid being recognised by their respective cop dads

-Miles saying that he can get two cakes when the counsellor says you can’t have your cake and eat it too and then bringing two cakes for his father’s party and neither of them saying what he wanted to convey. 

-Rio and Jeff scolding an annoyed miles but instantly smiling when a relative hugs them what an universal experience 

-Gwen teasing Miles for drawing her in his notebook almost obsessively but also breaking the biggest rule to spend time with him knowing the consequences. 

-As they went to talk, my friend leaned over and said ‘yeah I bet they will talk’ and when they only talked he groaned very loudly at which point I had to remind him Miles was only 15 

-Watching Jeff talk to Spiderman about his son not knowing his son is spiderman

-The DJ increasing the volume when Miles’ parents started scolding him in the middle of the party (the real mvp of the movie actually) 

-JK Simmons cameo that no one seems to be talking about??? Embarrassingly enough I had to literally scream into my friend’s ear for most of the people to realise it was indeed JK Simmons

-Just the entire Mumbattan scene. It was so exciting to see my city be represented like that, still a bit cliched in my opinion but not like Slumdog so obviously they have updated their views. Everything from the traffic gag to Pav’s rant about chai tea had the theatre howling. Also the detail of the thought boxes (?) and sounds being written in Hindi 

-Screaming DANIEL KALUUYA

-My friend and I are huge fans of the UK punk scene (her for the ideologies and myself for the music and fashion) so Hobie was a dream come true. He was already super cool with his guitar and mohawk costume but when he revealed his face it was just so amazing

-Gayatri is every indian’s dream girl with her modern shirt-flannel and jeans combo mixed with bangles and piercings I really wish we get to see more of her in the next movie. Anyway there was a lot of wolf-whistling and hooting for her and Pav

-Also Pavitr literally means pure I don’t know if they did that on purpose or not but I love it

-His pet name being Pav cured my soul

-’This is the most emotional I have seen him’ and Captain Singh has no emotions at all

-I want to see how they came up with so many spider designs because each was so unique and immediately endearing. My friend who is also a big dinosaur fan screamed DINOSAUR 

-Kind of obsessed with how detailed Ben Reilly’s arms are they did not need to go that hard with it

-Tom Holland’s Spider-Man being referred to as ‘the little nerd’ by Miguel

-When everyone was making puns about the Spot my friend leaned over and said ‘i wonder which hole the spot prefers’ it is a miracle we are still friends actually

-The Donald Grover cameo!!!

-Peter B Parker having a cute little baby with the love of his life is what he deserves

-Miguel O Hara is one step away from becoming a Batman-Spiderman 

-Hobie’s admiration for Mayday being the avatar of chaos Spider-baby

-Screaming ANDY SAMBERG

-I think they saw the appreciation for the art style in the previous film and then trebled it for this film and I cannot thank them enough for it

-Peter complaining about how Miguel breaks the Spiderman tradition of being funny and witty and Miguel being the first anomaly 

-Every scene with the Spot is very unnerving because as I said, you watch him transform from this joker to a literal void of vengeance and it is every bit of terrifying

-Miguel is a man suffering from the destruction of an entire universe because of his selfish actions and forcing that anomaly narrative on a fifteen year old boy who became a spiderman on accident and doesn’t want his father to die because of that. Unlike the Spot, who isn’t even human anymore, Miguel is drowning in grief and guilt and trying to ignore it by holding the weight of the spider-verse on his shoulder. I hated him so much for making a boy go through that but then I just couldn’t in the end. 

-Andrew Garfield and Tobey Maguire cameo!!! Hopefully we’ll get a fun Tom Holland one too in the next movie.

-’Let me guess, he died?’ being a therapist for Spider Men must be a fairly boring job after a few patients.

-I just loved the absolute of wrongness of the scene where Miles returns ‘home’. The rain and darkness. I didn’t really think about Rio asking Miles what happened to his hair because I thought she was referring to the rain (although of course she wouldn’t ask him why his hair was wet when it was obviously raining outside) but realised something was wrong when he didn’t know about comic con but she did because in the first film there’s a joke about Peter B Parker explaining the concept to Miles. 

- This movie is not good for my father related issues

-The glaring neon welcome sign when the gang end up in Earth 42

-How did Uncle Aaron get even scarier? 

-Miles being the Prowler is honestly a great twist I saw it coming but still felt the shock of the reveal

-Prowler Miles having an accented voice meaning his father probably died when he was young and he only had his mom growing up

-Can’t wait for the original spider team to return for the third film seeing as they brought back Spider-Man Noir and Spider Ham and Peni Parker

-Screaming WHAT when the ‘to be continued’ appeared because that cliffhanger is absolutely destructive. All that adrenaline and excitement just popped. I’m still oscillating between being impressed and being disappointed. 

I probably skipped over a lot of other scenes because these were the most memorable and I only watched the film once (unfortunate) but I can’t wait for the movie to hit streaming services and watch it again and again for all the other details I missed. Ill probably keep adding things as I remember

[boothillssugarmomma]

Hello hello!

Can I request a Dr. Ratio x reader that's a team leader and they're assigned to work together, and while he's complaining (whining) about her team they're not having it and they bicker (divorced parents vibes fr) (they're both in denial of their feelings). Just Ratio not being used to someone else talking back to him (pls make them make out thank you for your time regardless, I love your writing!

THIS IDEA GAVE ME SO MUCH BUTTERFLIES MAKING 😭 I hope you like it as much as I did creating it!

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

Sparks of Synergy

(Ratio x Fem!Reader)

cw-: mean!ratio, insults of intelligence, heavily suggestive, smidge of nudity mentioned

🎀 authorsnote: this is my first request fic and I literally screamed and giggled when I saw it!

please don't steal my work!

Taglist🎀HSR Master List🎀Other Lists🎀

"This part of this project is so simple! How do you not understand!? We've already been through this part multiple times!" Ratio could already feel an argument or a migraine coming. All it took was one glance down at your paper for him to practically combust.

"Fix this." He orders. He's spent hours going back and forth with you, hovering over your shoulder like a vulture.

He could spot all sorts of microscopic mistakes that he just was practically begging to point out. He doesn't exactly know why he even bothers. It's obvious that you were hopeless the moment you were recruited for his team.

Though, he suppose it's better for your dimwitted self and the rest of your team to come to him instead of doing it yourselves.

Aeons, he wouldn't be able to take in the sight of you doing this project alone and failing or asking for help from another bumbling, no-nothing dumbass.

The doctor is the best chance you've got with actually completing correctly, whatever it is you need help with...and he wouldn't have it...Any. Other. Way.

"Just because you're the team leader of this little project doesn't mean you can be so bossy." You hum and keep working.

"Bossy? Me?" Ratio lets out a scoff. That's rich coming from you.

He raises an incredulous eyebrow as his stare narrows at your ridiculous comment. Does this fool have the guts to insult him?

He rolls his eyes at the fact that you had the audacity to claim that he's "bossy" when he's simply trying to keep things together. He's not bossy, he has a title to live up to, unlike the likes of you.

"Yes...bossy..." Your eyes glance over at his in a glare. "You want to make the team quit?" You scoff.

"Please." Ratio shoots a condescending glance your way, leaning back against a wall and crossing his arms.

"If they aren't capable enough to handle my expectations and methods, then it's best for them to leave. I'm doing them a favor here. You should be thanking me, quite honestly. I am your team leader after all. I know what's best for this group."

He smirks. You should be grateful that he even allowed you to be a part of this team at all.

as you continue to bicker and fight the whole day the rest of the team just watches on in silence, until one by one they all start to leave

Eventually you both notice that you two are the only one in the room. Ratio let out an exasperated scoff and pinches the bridge of his nose. The headache coming back.

"Look at what you've done now." He snaps, his gold eyes snapping back to you once more. "You and your incessant nagging caused the others to leave. What a surprise."

The sarcasm was evident in his voice. He can't stand this.

"Oh you're going to blame this on ME!?" You scoff and fold your arms. "If anything it was your snide comments..."

Ratio let's out a sharp laugh, scoffing once again and turning his chin in a prideful way.

"What snide comments? The only thing I said was criticism that would help you improve on your work. You, just like the rest of those dimwits, can't seem to understand. Do you have any idea of the standards I live up to?"

"It's the way you say it Veritas." You sigh and rub your forehead with your index and thumb.

The purple haired smart ass stiffens. His golden gaze locked onto your exasperated expression. How irritating. How annoying. It was like a buzzing insect flying near his ear, one he longed to swat at.

"Perhaps try working harder instead of being so sensitive, idiot..." He scoffs. He was simply offering constructive criticism. It's not his fault that your little self couldn't take it.

"Ok you see!" You groan and push off the table. "That's what they don't like!"

Ratio scowls slightly. The audacity of you was absolutely ridiculous. He steps closer.

"What, do you propose I use a more 'soft' approach? Perhaps a 'softer' tone?" *He mocks, a sarcastic smile stretching his features. Soft? That's laughable. He doesn't do soft.

"You're just like them. Soft and sensitive. I have no tolerance for useless emotions. Only facts."

"Maybe you'd have more friends if you were nicer!" You raise your voice and clap your hands together before taking a breath.

Ratio laughs lowly, mocking your outburst. You had no right to judge him like that.

"How childish. If they truly were my friend, they'd stand by my honest and factual criticism. You see it as 'mean'. I do not. What is so wrong with telling it how it is?

I don't expect you to understand. Your feeble brain simply wouldn't be able to comprehend the standards."

"Ratio not everyone appreciates your random analysis of them." You scoff.

The doctor gives you a condescending side-glance, rolling his eyes. Random analysis? Surely you were aware that everything he thought of was correct?

"The facts are just the facts. People can either be offended by it or be mature and understand. Clearly, maturity is not a word you know."

"You seem sensitive and weak minded...GET OUT!" You mock him and throw a piece of chalk at the chalkboard before folding your arms.

It takes all of Ratio's self-restraint to not burst out into a hysterical, mocking laughter. His face twists into a sneer. You were the delusional and insensitive one here.

It's not long before Dr. Ratio had pushed you back until you were pinned against the wall his body pressed so close to yours that you could feel his soft, warm breath hitting the side of your neck.

"Weak minded?" He chuckles lowly.

"I would never dream of being weak. Ever."

You both just gaze in each other's eyes for what seems like an eternity before you clear your throat. "We should probably...get back to work..."

Dr. Ratio had almost forgot he was pinning you to the wall, but at the comment, it had made him pull back away slightly. He stares for a few seconds before glancing away and scoffing once more.

"Right, there's no time to waste on worthless chatter. I suppose it's up to me to be the bigger man once again and carry this team." He crosses his arms.

You roll your eyes as you walk back over to the table and start working.

After a small while there is no talking or bickering...until you did a slight mishap on an equation

He often glanced over quietly to make sure the work you were doing was correct. There were a few moments where he had to glance away from how badly your mistakes had irked him. He took in a breath to calm himself down.

He would be lying if he said that the silence wasn't slightly refreshing. But...he's quickly pulled out of that mindset when you made a mistake.

He lets out an irritated sigh and stands.

"Really? Another mistake? At this rate you might as well give me the paper for me to finish it myself."

"Don't touch it!" You rip the paper away from his hands.

He scoffed, his eyes narrowing as a sneer stretches on his lips. He takes another step closer to you, crossing his arms.

"Care to repeat that, idiot? You dare to talk back to me?" Ratio's gaze darkened slightly, his golden eyes practically gleaming in the light.

"Oh don't act like you're all high and mighty!" You stalk towards him poking his chest with your finger. "You're not the big bad Ratio everyone says you are!"

The doctor lets out a mocking scoff, his gaze locked onto you in a cold glare. He swats your little finger away like it was nothing.

"Big bad Ratio? You clearly are more ridiculous than I had originally anticipated. What, are you scared of me? Do my words... frighten you?" He steps even closer into your personal space, his voice dropping into a low growl.

Your heart flutters as your eyes lock again. His gold gaze holding yours so perfectly. But your stance never falters.

Ratio's eyes narrow as he can feel his irritation rising once again. Why is this bothersome woman making his heart beat like this?

He scoffs.

"You're getting too comfortable around me. Have I not made it obvious that I'm superior than you in every way?" He grabs your chin with his thumb and index, angling your face up.

"Superior? Superior!?" You scoff and laugh.

Ratio sneers, practically looming over you.

"Do you want me to list down everything that makes me superior to you, little one? The list would go on for miles and miles."

He stares down at you with an intimidating smirk, his thumb pressing against your chin almost possessively.

You glance down at his lips before locking eyes again. "Shut it...doctor..."

Ratio smirks once more, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. His thumb traces your bottom lip slightly, admiring your features for a brief second before he lets out another scoff.

"You have the audacity to tell me that? Oh, you are a fool. A very adorable fool...now you should shut it."

"Shut. It. Or. I'll. Make. You." You whisper darkly.

Ratio's smirk widens for a moment, clearly amused and slightly caught off guard by your boldness. He lets out another scoff and leans down close to your ear, his hot breath brushing against your skin.

"And. How. Precisely. do you propose yourself to accomplish such a thing, hm?" He murmurs, a mocking but low chuckle falling from his lips.

You lean up and cut him off with a kiss. A soft one before pulling away slightly. You both gaze into each other's eyes.

Ratio's golden eyes widened slightly in surprise, not anticipating such a move. You...kissed him? How dare you act so brazenly? Yet...why did he like it...?

He lets the surprise linger in his expression for a few more seconds before he takes quick action. Ratio closes whatever space was in between you and pushes you back against the wall, his lips pressing against yours in a passionate and possessive kiss.

As the kiss grows to be more passionate small sounds can be heard escaping both of your throats as you entangle closer together

Ratio's hand wraps around your waist tightly, his other hand slipping into your hair to keep you closer against him. Your soft lips were so addicting, it made his heart flutter strangely in his chest. His tongue darted out to slide against your bottom lip, begging for entrance into your mouth.

You open your mouth just enough for his tongue to slide inside, and you begin to fight for dominance.

His tongue immediately sought for yours, exploring the inside of your mouth as a low groan escaped his throat. He began to press you more and more into the wall, his body pressing tightly onto yours with an iron grip on your waist.

He pulls you away from the wall to lay you on the table as he continues to kiss you

Ratio's hand traveled down to grab your thigh and hoist it up so your calf wraps around his waist as he deepened the kiss with a small hum, his body hovered over yours in an almost possessive manner. His long, slender fingers would slowly begin to slip under your shirt.

"MhM!" You groan into his mouth as he slides a hand over your breast.

Ratio let's out a low chuckle as he slowly begins to slide your shirt off, wanting to feel more and more of your skin against his. He began to trail small, light kisses down your neck, gently sucking on a particularly sensitive spot.

"V-Veritas" You whisper softly in his ear.

Ratio gives one final, rough suck onto that particular spot on the side of your neck, creating a small bruise. He pulled back slightly to look down at you. A low chuckle escaped his lips once more as he leaned in to brush his hot breath against your ear.

"Saying my name so nicely...You're almost making me want to ruin you."

You roll your eyes softly and laugh quietly.

"So doctor how long have you been hiding these feelings for me?" You tease as you kiss his cheek.

Ratio let's out a scoff, his face quickly flushing a dark red at your boldness. He was getting teased by you of all people. He doesn't remember the last time anyone has gotten the best of him in such a way.

He clears his throat and leans down to press a bruising kiss upon your jaw, beginning to trail his lips across your neck.

"...for a while..." He reluctantly answers.

"And is this your mhM way of asking me out?" You smirk through a small moan and tilt his chin up with your hand to meet your gaze.

Ratio's face flushed a dark shade of red at your question, his eyes narrowing as he let out a scoff. He was the Veritas Ratio. You have some nerve to tease him.

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to answer, his brain scrambled. He can feel your soft hand on his chin, gently making him meet your gaze.

"...I suppose so." He finally admits sheepishly.

"Does this mean you're going to be nicer to me?" You lean forward to kiss his forehead.

The doctors golden eyes widened slightly at the small kiss on his forehead, his face flushing a deeper shade of red. He didn't expect you to get this affectionate with him. He glanced off to the side with a scoff.

"I-I already am nice to you. I'm...simply just more blunt than other people." He mumbled almost defensively.

You both pause as you throw your head back to laugh. "You're very funny doctor!"

His eyebrows furrow slightly in annoyance. You...laughed at him. He would have reprimanded you if it wasn't for the fact that your laughter was incredibly cute. He would huff in irritation, crossing his arms.

"It's not nice to laugh at me, you know..." He grumbles with a slight pout.

"Fine fine... I'm sorry~" you lean forward to whisper in his ear.

Ratio's face flushed an even darker shade of red as your soft whisper sent a shiver down his spine. His hands gripped slightly onto your hips, holding you against him firmly. He let out a sigh at your teasing words.

"...you're insufferable...I hate how adorable you are." He mumbled lowly, his voice dropping a degree as he stared down at you.

As he lifts you off the table and puts you back on the ground you smile softly "Yeah but you like meee~" You poke his chest softly.

Ratio quietly scoffs again, although his face was still flushed a dark shade of red. Why, you...! You had him wrapped around your finger. His eyes narrowed, yet the corner of his lip twitched into a smirk.

His arm loosely looped around your waist and bring you close to him, letting out a low chuckle as he rested his chin on top of your head.

"Shut up...you are so fuckin...insufferable." He mumbled lowly, not denying anything you said.

You press a kiss to his throat and smile. "Shall we get back to work...my love?"

A shiver raced down Ratio's spine at the small kiss, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. His heart thumped in his chest, the soft fluttering feeling in his chest only growing. No, not during work hours. He must not get distracted until the work is done.

He gave a firm nod, his golden eyes locking onto your gaze.

"...Yes, my dear..."

As he turns to the table you smirk. "Oh and Veritas?" You smile innocently as he turns back to you.

"After work..." You slide a hand up his chest until it rests on his heart. "I want you to show me just how insufferable I. Really. Am."

Ratio's eyes widen slightly before they narrow into a smirk, catching onto your words almost instantly. He raised an eyebrow as he watched you.

"A challenge? You seem so confident, my idiot..." He murmured. He grabbed the hand on his chest and brought it to his lips, placing a kiss to the palm of your hand.

He leaned close once more, and with a seductive whisper, and smirk, answered.

"You're on."

🎀End🎀

[boiohboii]

The people's sweethearts

Chapter 1

(Verstappen!reader x tom holland x zendaya)

Soulmate au

YN Verstappen had been through hell, by her own father, for something she didn't even ask for. She grew up learning that she should hate what was given to her, after all it was the reason her father was always angry with her. So what should she do when the one thing she learned to hate is the one thing that brings her love, safe and comfort that not even her older brother can compare.

WARNING: not proof read, Jos Verstappen (worsned like 10 times for this fic) poly relationship, derogatory terms by father, abusive father. If I missed anything else please let me know

Masterlist

Max and Yn Verstappen are close, really close, some would even say they are too close for being siblings, after all it's not usual for an 18 year old to go live with her older brother in a country 2 hours away (by plane) from her university rather than just to rent something close by.

Everyone had very harsh words to say about the pair of siblings, some still do but these are just people who hate max verstappen and they know nothing angers him more than someone insulting his baby sister, everyone was very vocal about how strange, weird and abnormal it is for 2 grown siblings to live together.

Everyone thought that the Verstappen siblings would change their living arrangements after Max and Kelly found each other, only to be surprised by Max buying a bigger penthouse that'd be enough for all 4 of them.

Everyone was negative about the prospect of the redbull formula one driver being followed around by his little sister until the release of The Anatomy of A Champion came out.

When the producers of the show pitched in the idea of talking to yn, max had refused, he wanted his sister nowhere near any of these vultures knowing how bad it can, and most probably will, get. Max was aware from a very young age that what his dad was constantly saying and doing to him and his sister wasn't normal, whenever he was at a race he would see the other boys' dad's hugging them and telling them they did a good job even if they didn't get first place, he would see how other's would have their father waiting for them with water and towels, and most importantly he would see how other dad's had their daughter on their shoulder making the other little girls laugh; Why does dad only make yn cry?

He remembers it so clearly, the way his father hit his sister because of something out of her control, something that she didn't even ask for, something that was thrown at her, it was the day his sister got her soulmark.

Everyone had a soulmark that appeared on their 5th birthday and today was yn's which made jos take her to the soul doctor. Soulmarks were complicated, which is why soul doctors were important, they let you know more about your mark and the bond that's to form between you and your other half.

"Wow young lady, you'll have twice the amount of love it seems."

"What?"

Max knew his father's tone, he know that he's angry and he unconsciously held onto yn's hand, hoping that his father wouldn't take his anger out on her.

"Well Mr Verstappen you see these lines," the doctor gently held up yn's wrist, turning it over to show off her newly given mark "that's an indicator of one soulmate, I'd say he is 3 or 4 years older than her given the shade of the mark, while this other lines that are in a circular shape indicate the other soulmate, he seems to also be around 3 or 4 years older as well. It looks like the mark that indicates young miss yn here is the moon, with how the moon is in the center I would say that yn would be the last in the group meaning that her two other soulmates will meet each other before they meet her."

Jos was angry throughout their drive home, he had already smacked yn into the car while rushing her to get in and as soon as they were in the car he hit her across the head, his arms tall enough to reach the young girl in the backseat. That was the first time max heard these words that would be so easy to recite within a few weeks.

"Two soulmates? Why couldn't you just be normal, why do you have to be such a slut?"

The ride back home was one of the worst max and yn had ever expirenced.

"Two soulmates, ridiculous.They're not even going to want you! They'd meet each other before they even know you!! At least if you turn out to be good for nothing I can just pimp you out on the street, maybe then you'd be useful, and it's not like your soulmates will even like you or want you. Unlovable whore."

"So," the interviewer started as Sophie Kumpen sat on a white sofa in Max's home in Monaco "how is your relationship with your youngest?"

"It's not as close as I'd want it to be," the mother of three confessed as she looked into the camera "yn is a very sweet girl, she had been through a lot. When Jos and I divorced she wasn't really aware of what was going on, she was too young to understand, and as she grew older all she could see was Max. He had been the one to take care of her: i remember once when Max was around ten years old he called me up, asking me how to make a soup because yn was sick and jos was out god knows where.

Max and YN were and are always there for each other, and I don't think that will ever change. I'm sure everyone thought their relationship will sort of tweak a bit when Max and Kelly met each other, but I don't think Max will ever allow that and it's not like Kelly even tried to change their relationship, she was the one who was apartment hunting for all of them while Max was racing and Yn was back in England for her university." 

"Do you think yn is putting in the effort to be there for Max?"

"Oh definitely, I mean studying mechanical engineering along with aerospace engineering at one of the top universities in the world is enough proof. Her whole life revolves around Max and I don't think it's a bad thing. Max had been her everything, he's the one she always goes to cause he is all she knows. When she was deciding what to do right after high-school all she said was that she will choose the majors that'll help her get an internship at formula one so that she'd be there with Max for the rest of his races, however long he wants to be there."

"Do you know what happened between Jos, Max and Yn? Don't you think it's weird that once Max turned 18 he asked Christian Horner to ban his father from the paddock? And to help him have yn with him as much as possible?"

"I'm not really going to go into the details of it, but Jos has done a lot of damage, especially to yn. It's not something I can talk about, not that I even want to, but Jos was a terrible husband and a wose father, I'm insanely glad that yn and max turned out as good and well as they are. Seeing them so close is not something that's surprising me given what Jos did to them, to yn" Sophie's voice broke as a few tears escaped her eyes "sorry, it's just, what she had to go through, it's traumatic and I'm happy that she had Max with her through it all. It fills my heart with joy seeing the little family Max and Yn formed with Kelly and Penelope"

ch. II

[liliacamethyst]

I briefly expressed the idea of Miguel finding out his partner is pregnant in this imagine, and I can’t help but wonder about the possibility of Miguel finding out this way (just as angsty in my opinion).

Another alternate universe Drabble:

Your heart races as you swing through the city, the wind whipping past your face. You are exhilarated by the adrenaline that comes with being a superhero. You’ve always felt like you belonged in the skies, protecting the people who trust you.

But something feels different today. You’re more cautious, more protective, and it’s not just because of yourself. There’s someone else involved. The thought makes your heart swell. You recently found out you’re a few weeks pregnant, and the thought of being a parent excites you. But you’re also scared. You don’t know how Miguel will react, considering his past.

As you land on the rooftop, you notice Jessica Drew waiting for you. Your nausea catches up with you as you double over.

“Jessica Drew, you breathe a word of this to anyone and I will kill you with my bare hands,” you whisper fiercely through clenched teeth.

“How can you when you're throwing up every five minutes?” she retorts. At your wince, she huffs out a breath. “You gotta tell him, at the very least.”

You take a deep breath, nodding slightly. Before you can answer her, your spider-sense tingles and your head snaps up. From the corner of your eye, you see a figure cloaked in shadows zooming toward you and Jessica. You recognize him immediately – it's the Vulture.

"Jessica, look out!" you shout as you push her out of the way. The Vulture’s sharp talons miss her by inches.

You don't waste a moment, shooting webbing to pull yourself towards him. As you close in on the Vulture, you exchange blows, his claws trying to find purchase while your punches land solidly.

Meanwhile, Jessica joins in, and you both engage in a fierce battle above the city. The buildings become blurry as you fight, your focus narrowing down to the Vulture’s relentless attacks.

At one point you see an opening. Your instincts tell you to go for it. But just as you lunge forward, the Vulture spins and his wing catches you in the abdomen. The force sends you hurling toward a building. You try to shoot a web, but the pain is too much.

Jessica catches you before you hit the ground and lays you down gently. She’s saying something but the world is growing dark. You reach for your abdomen.

"Please.. protect my baby," you whisper before everything goes black.

-

As you slowly regain consciousness, a sterile scentfills your senses. Your body feels heavy and a dull ache resonates through your abdomen. Your heart clenches as the memory of the battle rushes back and you instinctively move a hand to your belly.

Soft murmurs float around you and you blink your eyes open to see Lyla beside you. Her holographic form is displaying medical data in front of Miguel, who is pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back and a deep, angry frown on his face.

"...stable, but she must exercise caution due to early stages of pregnancy..." Lyla's words cut through the fog in your head, and your breath catches.

Miguel freezes, his gaze snapping to Lyla then to you. His expression crumbles as he takes in what Lyla just said.You slowly push yourself into a sitting position, your hand still protectively over your belly. Your eyes lock with Miguel's, his eyes widen with disbelief.

"You... We... Is this...?" Miguel stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.

You give him a simple nod.

"But...how? How did this happen?" His voice is choked.

"Miguel, listen to me," you start, your voice steady yet just a little bit above a whisper, "You don’t have to... This isn’t an obligation.I dont expect anything from you. I can raise this child alone. I..."

But before you can finish, Miguel leans in, pressing his lips against yours, effectively silencing your rambling. It’s a gentle yet passionate kiss filled with so many unsaid emotions and promises.

I loved this idea, and I really hope this is what you were looking for 💜

[cowboycatss]

love that you can do fuck all with danger days character designs and no one cares. unfortunately im also a coward

[hobvitr]

can i req spiderwoman!reader whos kinda enemies/rivals with noir and they’ve been competing whos better at fighting villains and one day reader gets hurt too much and he takes care of her

spider-noir x reader

fem!reader

genre/warnings: fluff, kinda rivals to lovers (i don't know how to distinguish tropes damn) angst if you squint, reader gets hurt, self-depreciating joke, mentions of blood, i think that's it, unrevised writing

note: thank you for this request, he's the only man ever !! loved the idea, really. tried to not get carried away in the end (i became flustered while writing) recommended song: te amo - rihanna

being a vigilant is stressful enough, but you manage to make it fun by proving you're better at punching some asses than noir is.

everyone in the group found your relationship with noir the most entertaining thing to see. a spiderman and a spiderwoman competing to see who was better at catching villians wasn't the most common scenario someone imagine happening, and yet you two brought that to the teens lifes.

when you both met, noir wasn't the most talkative man on the presence (especially if peter b was present) but you managed to get him talk to you with your undying charm. that said charm was: your villain count. your count was higher than everyone else in the group, and that made you proud of yourself as a hero and as a woman.

"that is very close to mine" was his answer. your competitive side already starting to show with so little being said. "oh, how close?" you asked with a nudge on his arm. "two more than you." he looked down at you with his mask covering his face, but you could feel the shit eating grin he had.

alright. that was the moment you swore on your life you were going to beat this man's ass at that count. one more motive for you to do your heroic job, and it was a competition.

as you started to show your new count on beating villains, noir always came with a higher one. and that made you frustrated. on the other hand, he seemed to very much enjoy the game between you two as he was always winning, but he didn't cared as much as you did, he just found endearing making you feel competitive, felt like a instigator, and he liked it.

the day both numbers tied, you almost popped a champagne, thinking how funny it would be if you aimed and hit the bottle cap at peter's smug face (affectionately, but he doesn't have to know).

"alright, it's actually not funny when we have the same number" your cheering was slowly stopping when you realized "but i have an idea" noir raised an eyebrow underneath his mask "what is it?"

"we fight the same villain to see who wins" you suggested, shrugging your shoulders "if you win i'll kill m-"

"alright, let's not get that deep" noir cuts you mid sentence, at your not so healthy comment about the competition. you chuckle at his reaction "i'm kidding, I'll obviously win" a wink followed.

when the opportunity showed up for you two to fight together, you took as your win already. not one thing could go wrong... except it could.

as you swing between the wreckage, you took all your effort to not even let noir get close to the vulture. you wanted to handle this on your own and show that you're capable of more than him.

"i thought we agreeded to work together" noir was able to get closer to you enough for you to hear him. his voice broke all your concentration mid fight with the big ass bird, who hit you with full force by the position you were. you flew half of the place, falling so fast on top of some metal shelf that you weren't even able to stick your web somewhere to help your landing.

you feel the blood pooling on your mouth, 'that can wait' you thought to yourself, getting up almost instantly if it wasn't for the stinging pain on your ribcage.

"are you okay?" you swore you heard pure desperation in noir's voice, as he came to hold your arms and check you out for any visible wounds. "yeah, sure" you reply hurriedly, not letting him know you were feeling the most pain you experienced in your life. "I'll just.. beat him very quick I'll be right back" you pat his arm, so fast that when he registers you're already full of rage on the vulture, knocking him out and capturing him underneath a good amount of web.

"oh fuck" you hiss, pressing above the internal wound on your rib. your mask was stained with blood, your blood. noir was so fast to get to you when he noticed. "does it hurt when you breathe?" he asks, hands holding your face, making you concentrate only on him. you shake your head 'no', too weak to speak. "good, but i am taking care of you right now" he holds you bridal style.

"no way, we have to stay here until someone come take him" you try to argue with him, unsuccessfully because he was already taking you out the scene "that can wait" your eyebrows furrow, confused with him so worried. "it's not that bad..."

"it is for me" he finally stopped at what looked like the window of your apartment, you were too light headed to register. he managed to get you inside and you were laying on your bed. "can you sit?" was the first thing he asked, your vision was a little bit blurred but you tried to sit straight with his help.

"apparently yes but not really" you chuckle lightly, rubbing a hand down your face. "here, take these" he offered you some painkillers with a glass of water and you took it like a starving man. "may i..." he asks permission first to take off your mask, and you nod softly.

he lifts up your mask, extra careful with the scratches over your face, and takes it full so it don't get in his way to clean your cuts.

you suddenly feel shy at his touch, you found it cute he was taking care of you even after you were so reckless because of a little competition. he was quiet and so was you, too embarrassed to say something.

his fingers gently pressing the medicine wet cotton pad above all the cuts, you too flustered to make eye contact until you hear a low chuckle "i was so worried" he said almost like to himself, head lowered as he briefly stopped his movements, only to return when he was back looking at you.

"don't do that again, please" he pleaded, making your face go bright red, which was pretty visible with the bedside light on. "i won't" you breathed out. "may i...?" you hook a finger at the end of his mask, asking permission to take it off, which he replied with a low voice cracked "yes".

you took off the material, his face red just like yours, as he picked his glasses to put above his nose. "you're pretty" you manage to say, surprising even yourself, must be some side effects of the painkillers you took.. is what you think, but you couldn't deny his beauty either way.

"you're prettier" you don't feel the warmth of the cotton no more, you feel the warmth of his thumb caressing the skin of your cheek. "is cuddling included in taking care of me?" you tease while smiling from the contact, and inciting a chuckle from him. "you want it to be?" he boldly teased back, making you hide your face under your hand.

"now that you clearly flirted back with me i may want it, yes" you reply with a light shrugg of your shoulders as if it was nothing, but your face showed the opposite.

he supports his weight on his arms, hands on the bed at each side of you, his face leveling with yours, few inches close "on it, doll".

[jester089]

I have a request for the tdac characters to fall in love with child reader(platonically) and basically be attached to them like their younger sibling figure, and now imagine the reader starts to slowly get insane in some way and abstracts, and they just watch in horror as they see their practically younger sibling abstract and taken away to the black hole(I forgot what its called), and they get out of character, I need some angst and out of character mfs

So young

Now I have done multiple things on this type of idea so it's probs gonna be really similar to some of my past works. I'll still do my best though. For future reference in requesting please specify if you want a oneshot or headcannons. I did a little of both for this one but it was tiring, so please specify.

TADC Crew x Child Reader Who Abstracts

You were by far the youngest in the Digital Circus. Out of everyone you actually enjoyed it there, it was colorful, safe, had plenty of things to do. And had people who actually cared about you. It was a place of respite for you after you're awful family. Well awful isn't the right word they weren't abusive or anything. Just neglectful. Caine was a lot like a weird uncle to you. Always had some kind of gift for you when he saw you and despite what he says you know he cares about you. You were just about the only person who genuinely enjoyed his little adventures and jokes so he ended up getting kind of attached to you. As much as an AI could at least.

Gangle more often then not wasn't around you. She didn't avoid you or anything but she didn't go out of her way to be around you. One time when her mask broke and you saw her crying you went to Caine to ask if she was ok. He explained as best he could to you that she isn't really sad, just her mask broke. So you asked Caine to help you fix it. A few hours later you're at Gangle's door with a fixed mask in a present box. Once she saw that you of all people, the youngest one here went out of your way to help her she started to warm up to you.

Zooble most definitely didn't enjoy being around you Lies. She always acted like you annoyed her and she wanted to be anywhere else. But the few times you two have been alone she's surprisingly nice. She taught you how to make a paper hat one time then for the next few weeks you were never seen without one on.

Kinger took on a much more loving approach with you. He saw you as young and in danger and with no one to guide you. And if you were just left alone Jax would probably swoop in like a vulture and corrupt you. So he half took you in and did his best to raise you and teach you. It was hard as their isn't anything for learning in the circus but he did his best. It annoys him to no end when he hears a censored word come from you only to learn that Zooble's been teaching you swears behind his back.

Ragatha did her best with Kinger to raise you so you had some kind of future ahead of yourself. Despite the fact that they no one ages they still want you to be prepared. She took on a very "over protective older sister" kind of way with you. You're young, weak, and gullible so she's constantly worrying about you. Enough for her to set up a bed for you in her room. Plus side is she'll read you bedtime stories.

Jax's sole goal since he found out Kinger and Ragatha were teaching you and keeping you away from him is to taint you. Whenever you're left alone he kind of just appears and offers you something fun to do with him so you'll follow him. He has fed so many lies to your malleable young brain. Like "Hey kid. Did'ja know that Ragatha loves centipedes? I actually caught one earlier today. Why don'cha give it to er?" so naturally you did. You got grounded for that. Pomni is the one you feel closest too. You're innocent and kind nature help her keep calm(er). And her being around your height makes you feel more comfortable around her so you're always seen dragging her around to do something silly. You help her look for the exit, kind of. Your different way of seeing the world has helped her find many things out though. Did you know that their's a secret building at the bottom of the the digital lake? She only found it cause you mentioned said something about Atlantis while swimming then proceeded to dive under the water scaring her.

All of them started to get worried when your usual energetic and optimistic self started to act tired, all the time. Even someone as at your age who seems to be the perfect fit isn't immune to the problems the circus has it seems. When you started to get depressed it freaked Ragatha out causing her to be more strict with you because she didn't want to see you hurt. That only made it worse though. None of them take you abstracting well. Even Jax, despite being a jerk he ended up getting kind of attached to you. Cause no matter how mean he was you were always nice to him. "Wonder if their still causing chaos in the afterlife..." Caine being the ring master was always trying to cheer everyone up and get their mind off you but it never really worked. It slightly affected him too, not because he was attached to you. But because you were so young... "Couldn't even keep a kid alive..." Ragatha after losing you would either lock herself in her room staring at your old bed trying to decide on if she should or shouldn't take it down. It the only thing she has left to remember you by. You had your whole life ahead of you. But she ended up not being able to help. Just like with all those others... "Is it even worth the effort at this point. Am I even helping..." Kinger had already lost Queenie his S/O... Now you, the one he was actually starting to see as his kid. That is what pushed him over the deep end. You two his family, both abstracted. At least he'll get too see you two again... "I'll be there soon love, just have to grab Y/N's books..."

(Idk if this is good or at all what you wanted. But I tried. Hope you enjoyed it. Also if you all could please check my request rules before requesting. It would make my life much easier. Thanks. Also I kinda wanna re-write this without the abstraction part.)

xoxo, Jester

[randomshyperson]

Mess is Mine - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Being divorced from Wanda Maximoff implies never getting over her.

Warnings: (+18), language, brief smut, divorced ladies who are very still much in love with each other, unspecified age gap, marriage going wrong, hopeful ending, mild angst, fluff.| Words: 3.949k.

A/N-> There's this divorced couple in a Brazilian soap opera with so much chemistry in their scenes together because of the intimacy gained during marriage (even though that didn't work out) and they won't leave my tik tok ; at some point, my brain thought about this fic. I would love to write more of this trope in the future.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

Wanda had a persistent migraine, and the pile of work in front of her was not helping.

Still, all her stubborn brain could focus on instead of her real job was the stupid headline of the gossip magazine on her desk.

A cheap and badly angled photo of her ex-wife with colorful captions that read 'The newest business killer couple?" and dozens more insinuations about a secret high-society romance made her stomach churn.

Wanda tried not to be affected by the gossip, but you looked so happy in the photo that she couldn't help it.

The sudden opening of her door made Wanda jump in her seat, in one quick pull close the magazine and sigh with relief when she saw it was only Natasha.

"Why are you here?" Her long-time friend and co-worker asked. Wanda frowned in confusion.

"It's still my company..."

Nat rolled her eyes, walking into the office and taking long strides to her desk. "I meant in here, smarty-pants. The event is starting in an hour, the staff wanted some words of encouragement or something."

Wanda sighed wearily, massaging her forehead with one hand. "Can't you do that for me, Nat? I gotta make some calls."

Nat hummed in agreement, but her gaze caught the closed magazine on the table and she raised a brow at her friend. "One of those calls includes your ex-wife, I suppose."

Wanda chuckled dryly, taking the magazine out to one of the drawers and adjusting herself to reach the desk phone. "There's nothing else for me to say to her."

Her friend hid a smile that said that she didn't believe this one bit. "Okay, whatever you say. See you later, boss."

Wanda waved goodbye, with the phone to her ear. Her immediate instinct was to dial known numbers but she shook her head to push that ridiculous idea away and went back to work.

Several hours after the peak of the event when the company was filled with guests, from potential clients to journalists looking for any news like vultures at the carrion, Wanda was at her second glass of champagne, trying to keep the rest of her patience intact after having answered so many questions for gossip magazines regarding the headline from earlier in the day.

She absolutely did not want to discuss a possible romance between her ex-wife and the heiress of Bishop Industries. 

Years before, any of them would have been afraid to question her about something so ridiculous, but that was before you came along. And melted your way into the Business Ice Queen, the untouchable Wanda Maximoff, or whatever insensitive nickname they invented about her back then. Before breaking down all of Wanda's walls, making her a better person, and of course, before you left her.

It was definitely the alcohol's fault that she was thinking about this, and with these stupid tears welling up in her eyes. Wanda swallowed all the emotion, burying it deep and making sure that no one had noticed her broken expression. With an excuse to a group of investors who were boring her into a corner, she retreated to an area far away from the company's outdoor gardens, taking a deep breath to calm herself. The beautiful view of the state lake was most welcome.

So of course the reason for her almost minor breakdown had to show up wearing her favorite suit.

"Are you running away from your guests, Maximoff?" Your tone was casual, the smile provocative. She snorted to herself, crossing her arms and keeping her eyes on the lake. You didn't mind, walking over to her at a slow pace until you were beside her on the edge. 

"I just needed some air." She merely replies. With one hand in your pockets, you adjust your own hair, and Wanda hates that she can smell the shampoo, her body betraying her and shuddering as if your scent were addictive. 

"You're avoiding me today." You comment lightheartedly, studying her face. "I arrived an hour ago and it took me almost all this time to find you."

Wanda forced a smile, finally facing you back, but her angry look made you hesitate. "I thought your chaperone was keeping you busy."

You glanced back at the party, stealing a quick check on Kate at the food stand, chatting with a blonde girl, before turning your attention back to Wanda.

"I forgot how hot you get when you're jealous."

Wanda huffs away, her cheeks burning which she tries to hide by staring at the lake. "Don't even start." She warns between teeth. 

You chuckle, rolling your eyes, but don't insist. You turn your attention to the lake as well. "I wanted to let you know that the boys have already arrived in King Cross. I spoke to them and Charles on the phone."

"I know, Pietro texted me." She retorts more harshly than she meant to and bites the inside of her cheek as she sees you lower your head in upset. With a sigh, she mumbles, "I meant, thanks for letting me know."

You smile, nodding before turning your gaze back to the party. "What do you think of Miss Bishop?" 

Wanda locks her jaw; How dare you honestly. A list of curses lays ready on the tip of her tongue, but she remembers where you two are, and takes a deep breath. You were clearly trying for some kind of reaction from her, and she's not going to let you have this victory today.

"She's beautiful." Wanda replies. "As young as you were when I met you."

You chuckle shortly, raising an eyebrow at her. "What are you implying, Maximoff?"

Wanda shrugs her shoulders softly, turning to leave. "You're quite clever, Y/N, I'm sure you follow." She hits back, but you step forward into her path. You are suddenly too close, and Wanda finds herself holding her breath. She needs to take a step back to avoid stopping breathing for good.

Your eyes stare into theirs. "Not that this is any of your business, darling, but my relationship with Kate is strictly professional."

You assure her in a low tone, and Wanda swallows hard as your gaze moves down to her lips for a long moment before focusing on her eyes again. A smile forms on your mouth next. "Besides this, I've always had a thing for older women."

Wanda sighs heavily, using all her mental control to pull away at once. "Go pay attention to your chaperone, Y/N. Especially if she's a potential client."

You roll your eyes at the business tip; you already know them by heart, the vast majority learned from Wanda. And your ex-wife makes mention of leaving, so you slide your hand down her forearm gently, taking some amusement in seeing the way she shivers.

"I wanted to talk to you about something, Wanda." You let her know, with a serious tone but a tender look. The redhead swallows dryly at the closeness of your faces now that you're standing side by side, your hands connected. "Later, after the party, okay?"

"I-I..."

"It's important." You assure her, knowing her hesitation is so as not to break your agreement about relapses. With a gentle expression, you insist, "Please, it won't take more than five minutes."

She licks her lips, and you almost kiss her. Lucky for her she agrees and walks away because God knows you would have done it, right there in that garden for all the New York reporters to have a week's news about.

Without Wanda's perfume around you, you take a deep breath and try to clear your mind, having to wait a few more minutes in the garden for your heart to stop beating so fast.

As the event nears its end and Wanda needs to give a closing speech, you say goodbye to Kate before the parking area. You ignore all the journalists who try to insinuate something about you having taken the girl to the car and exchange a glance with Wanda in the small crowd before moving toward the elevator.

Wanda has always known you so well, and with a nod, she knows exactly where she has to go.

Her work floor is completely deserted as she makes her way to her own office. But she still closes the door as she enters, letting out a tired laugh at your figure sitting on her armchair.

Her smile fades when she sees what you are reading.

"Headlines nowadays are getting creative..." You wryly chuckle, laughing at your ex-wife's caught expression. "It says here that I might have an eye to the Bishop's fortune. How silly, you gave me almost half of yours in the divorce, why would I need more money?"

"Very funny." Wanda dryly retorts, reaching up to snatch the magazine from your hands with a tug, and raking the item into the trash afterward. She crosses her arms as she looks at you. "What did you want to tell me?"

You flashed a small, sideways smile. "You used to be more polite when you wanted to sleep with me. At least offer me a drink."

Wanda chuckled dryly, rolling her eyes and begrudgingly moving to the personal bar in the corner of the room. If she leaned over more than necessary to grab one of the whiskey bottles, aware that the position in the chair gave you a full view of her ass, neither of you said anything about it. She hid her satisfied smile as she heard your breath hitch at the image, and you hid your own reaction as you cleared your throat and looked away.

Shortly thereafter, two shots of whiskey were served on the glass table in front of you. But before the toast, you declared:

"I'm leaving."

Wanda frowned, and when you made mention of taking the glass, she placed her hand on your forearm. "Speak."

You chuckled, staring her in the eyes. "I closed a contract with the Ten Rings folks. They want me in Korea for the next four months."

Wanda lets go of your arm as if she had been burned and steps away from the table with an indecipherable, but very disturbed expression.

"B-but the boys.." She tries to formulate, but you rise from the armchair with a sigh.

"They'll be at school." You retort, even though firm, your gaze is almost pleading. For what, Wanda doesn't have the heart to wonder. "It's not as if they stay with us all the time, Wands. The boarding school takes up this time quite well. It will only be four months, and they've already invented the telephone and internet, you know?" You try to joke, but Wanda hugs her own body and faces you.

"Why are you here, then? You've traveled before."

"Not for that long." You say, taking steps toward her, and mentally thanking heavens that she doesn't pull away. "And not... not since we made the divorce official."

"Y/N..."

"I know, I know." You murmur with a sad smile, raising your hands to her arms uncovered by her dress. "Maybe it's stupid, but I wanted to make sure we're okay. That it won't be something...I don't know, that hurts us."

"More than a divorce? I find that difficult." She replies with restrained emotion in her husky voice. You sigh.

"Wanda..."

"No, you're right. It was stupid." She cuts off, pulling away so you don't see the tears welling up in her eyes. "Of course it's okay. But I appreciate that you respect the concept of shared custody. I imagine the kids already know?"

"Yes, I told them before I took them to the airport." You mutter upset, watching Wanda walk away to the window. "But Wands, I wanted to tell you in person..."

"And why is that, huh?" she retorts with an impatience that makes you flinch. And for this, Wanda loses it for good. "You know, I don't understand you! You left me! You filed for divorce, you wanted to break us up. But you keep showing up here, and at home, and everywhere, and now you want to come here and say you care-"

"I care, Wa-"

"Then why did you leave me?" she shouts back, almost regretting it when she sees the tears in your eyes. You laugh tearfully, shaking your head.

"We've had this conversation dozens of times, Wan." You say, much calmer than she is. "But you just can't accept that you're wrong, can you?"

"Right, I forgot that I'm the villain in your story." She sneers, wiping her face with the back of her hand. You give another sad laugh.

"I wish it were that simple, darling." You tell her, taking slow steps toward her. "If you were just the villain, the bad wife, the evil boss, everything would be easier. I could hate you, curse your names to all my friends, and spend all the divorce money on expensive, empty things out there, but it's not like that. You forget the part that I love you and tried to fight for us until the last second."

Wanda sobs quietly, looking down at the floor, "Don't do that, Y/N."

"But it's true, baby, you know. I'm not the one who broke any promises, Wands. I just got tired of begging for crumbs of attention from the person who swore to spend the rest of her days with me."

Wanda lifts her chin, and the determination in her gaze doesn't do justice to the tears. "You knew how much my career meant when you said yes."

You smile sadly, taking one last step to get close enough to hold her face. Wanda shudders as you wipe away her tears, as you have done so many times before, as if no time has passed and everything was fine.

"I am so proud of you, Wands, for all you have accomplished with your work. I only wish I had been as important as this building." 

You place a long kiss on her forehead, pulling away afterward. You offer her one last sad smile before closing the door on your way out. Wanda starts to cry as soon as you have done so, even though she tries very hard to keep her tears away.

–//–

You burned a pancake to answer the door, but all the irritation over the ruined dish vanished when you saw Wanda standing in front of you.

It had only been a few days since you had last seen her, and now all the furniture in your apartment was already packed away and covered with rags, prepared for the time you would be away. Wanda's party dress gave way to a casual suit that made you swallow dryly and become self-conscious of the sweatpants and sports top you were wearing. Wanda wouldn't have picked anything better.

"Are you going to let me in, detka?" Wanda asked with some teasing for your moment of shock. You immediately recovered, making room for her to enter and closing the door once she was in the hall. "Sorry for disturbing your breakfast. I wanted to see you before your flight."

"Oh, don't worry about it. And I'm not going until the afternoon." You clarified somewhat clumsily by her presence, one hand still holding a spatula and the other adjusting your hair. "I made pancakes if you'd like..."

"I would love it." Wanda assured with a smile that made your stomach twist. It wasn't fair that your ex-wife got more beautiful every time you looked at her, honestly.

Wanda followed you back into the kitchen, and to both your surprise, you fell into a light conversation about work and the boys while preparing and serving food, completely different from the tone of the conversation the last time you had seen each other. 

But it was a time bomb, of course, so you weren't surprised when Wanda suddenly bit her lip, assuming a more tense posture. 

Finishing chewing your pancakes, you asked:

"Why are you here, sweetheart?" 

Wanda raised her eyes to you, and you stared back at her, patiently for her to clarify. 

"I wanted to say goodbye to you properly." She said, spinning her own stool around first before tipping her hands around yours to spin you toward her. You raise a brow in curiosity, but the question of what she was doing dies in your throat as she leans in and brings your lips together. 

It has been exactly three months, eighteen days, and sixteen hours since you last kissed Wanda, and you only realize how much you missed the feeling when she does it again. It's as intoxicating as it is overwhelming, and you gasp into her lips, breaking the kiss at once as you stand up, taking good steps away from the countertop.

"Wanda, we talked about this." You remind her in a husky voice, pressing a hand over your face. It's ridiculous how much your skin is burning and your heart is racing for something that lasted less than three seconds. "No relapses. You promised-"

"It's not a relapse." She assured, reaching up and grabbing your hands to place them around her waist. You grunted at the sensation, closing your eyes as Wanda slipped hers over your shoulders, too close for you to think about anything other than her. "It's a parting gift. So you'll have a reason to come back."

"W-what...?"

Wanda presses closer and brings her mouth to your ear. "Just stop overthinking it and accept the gift, detka."

With encouragement, she bites the lobe of your ear, and you give up resisting.

With a tug on her waist, you bring your mouths together in a kiss much hungrier and more passionate than the first, which elicits loud, almost primal moans of need from both of you. Wanda pushes and pulls, and by the time you stumble to the back of the living room couch, your pants are already open and there's nothing covering your torso; much like the woman in front of you, who as soon as she throws you sitting up against the cushions, your breathing out of rhythm and your lips swollen from kissing hard, makes a show of removing the rest of her clothes.

She has time to smile mischievously at your look of pure adoration at her completely naked body in front of you before you pull her onto your lap by her thighs. Wanda climbs on you with a needy grunt, burning from the inside out in anticipation for you to touch her again.

Your touches are almost desperate, your kisses mark her skin. It is your gift, but you also seem determined to make sure that Wanda has the memory of this morning for quite some time. 

When your mouth closes around her nipples, she whimpers to the ceiling, arching her back and steadying her hands in your hair, a soft plea that you not stop.

"Yes, baby, just like that." She encourages over the stimulation on her nipples, breaking into an excited whimper when you simply use your free hand to masturbate her. At any other time, you would have taken your time to work her up until she was begging for your touch, but now, in the urgency you two were sharing, it wasn't necessary. She was ready for you. 

Your fingers penetrate her without delay, and Wanda digs her nails into your shoulder, breaking into a breathless moan. You give one last hickey on her hardened nipple before you move your face back up to hers, kissing her with intensity as your fingers dance inside her walls with the mastery of one who has done this a dozen times, one who knows her like the palm of the hand she so deliberately grinds against in the intention of relieving herself.

"G-god, detka! Right here!" She breaks the kiss into an affected moan, practically meowing as you repeatedly hit that sensitive spot inside her. The wetness grows in your palm, Wanda oozes into you, and to help her, you bring your free hand to her hip, coordinating her movements as she begins to fail. "I-I'm going to..."

"Don't talk, show." You interrupt her with a proud little smile, moving your mouth down to bite the sensitive spots on her neck. "Come to me, baby, I've got you."

That's all she needs to reach the first climax of the morning, and she is not surprised that you don't stop at the first. Or the second, or the third.

You are on your knees on the living room floor when your first alarm goes off. Breathing as out of breath as Wanda, on the couch with her torso exposed and her legs spread from which you against your will need to remove your face to turn off the alarm when you pull away.

She covers herself when you disappear to the kitchen because she knows it's because of the flight, and when you return, the cell phone goes on the coffee table and you sit on the floor next to her on the couch. 

There is a long silent pause, where only your breaths can be heard. Wanda skirts a hickey on her own thigh and you sigh.

"We shouldn't have..." But you can't complete, it because your voice fails you as if you are going to start crying. You look away, and Wanda lets herself fall to your side on the floor, where she reaches for your hand.

"Detka, look at me." She asks, and you have to wait a moment until you sniffle and do so with difficulty.

"I told you it hurts me, Wands. I can't-" You take a deep breath. "I can't heal if this keeps happening. There’s no getting over you if we keep doing this”

She shakes her head. "I don't want you to get over me." She says and you huff, trying to pull her hand away, but Wanda squeezes. "I love you, you know I do."

"Love is not enough." You retort bitterly, your eyes filled with tears. "Loving me doesn't mean you won't hurt me. Nor that you won't ignore me. Those are just words, Wanda. I haven't felt loved by you in a long time."

She releases your hand from the shock of your words, and watches you create a physical distance between you as you walk away. You slip away to the bedroom, muttering that you need to get ready for the flight, and she tries to make a decision the whole time you are in the shower.

When you return to the room, wearing a set of travel clothes, Wanda is wearing your sweatpants and her own dress shirt. Your chest aches to see her wearing your clothes again.

"Wanda, you'd better go, my flight-"

"I love you, detka." She cuts you off with eyes bright with determination as she stares at you. You swallow dry, but can't resist when Wanda reaches up to touch your face. "I will make sure you know it. You'll know it so deeply that you'll be able to feel it in your bones. And you'll never doubt it again."

You sniffle lightly. "Wanda..."

"Don't worry about it now, detka." She interrupts you more gently, caressing your face. "Have a great trip. I'll be here when you come back home."

You sigh, and Wanda doesn't let you say anything more, kissing you in a calmer, but somehow much more intense way than before. 

She leaves the apartment before you, with a wink and a request that you call the boys before and after the flight. 

And even before she gets to the first floor, Wanda has already texted Natasha about her early retirement procedure after her well-deserved family vacation.

[dumbseee]

Request if your requests are open

Singer!Reader x (driver of your choice)

After their break up she seems fine, takes a 3-day break up off social media but otherwise she's the same as before, so people keep judging her for not being sad enough :(. cuz the driver seems sad and isn't doing well in races but she doesn't show anything and they attack her etc.(not a BIG hate campaign but ppl just make assumptions abt it)

Thanks in advance

Then BOOM she releases "hits different" (by taylor swift) and the fans connect the dots between her relationship and the song

happy face.

charles leclerc x singer!reader.

fc: madison beer.

note: thanks for the request! i really like your idea i hope you don’t mind that i used charles as the driver!

liked by selenagomez, kaiagerber, kyliejenner and 2 891 009 others.

y/n: mother is back.

_

fan1: YEEESSSSSS

fan2: she broke up with charles after three years together and took just three days off social media? that girl is so weird…

fan3: right? while charles is miserable and all sad

fan4: omg y’all are so ANNOYING let my girl enjoy her single life

theweeknd: 🔥

fan5: even if she decided to come back after one minute, that’s her choice

fan6: y’all just love to hate on pretty girls

fan7: charles saw the gold digger in her and left lmao

fan8: gold digger where? homegirl was a billionaire before she was even born LMAO

fan9: don’t come for my girl

fan10: charles’s fans back at it again

fan11: at least she’ll be free from the vultures

fan12: i never liked her tbh

fan13: how can she party and smile like that after a break up?

fan14: i feel so bad for charles…

fan15: charles deserves so much more

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liked by arianagrande, zendaya, zayn and 3 910 009 others.

y/n: ‘hits different’ is now out :) ps: reminder to be kind to people.

_

comments have been disabled.

liked by hunterschaffer, arthur_leclerc, carla.brocker and 4 819 009 others.

y/n: thanks you so much for the love ‘hits different’ received! it is my most vulnerable piece of work and putting it out there was hard, but i knew i had to. break ups are never easy, no matter how happy someone can be on the outside, they may be battling their hardest battles inside. but i’ll get better, like they say, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

_

fan1: i’m crying while reading this because it hits so hard, i’m in the middle of a break up and it hurt so bad, thank you y/n.

liked by y/n.

fan2: with one song she managed to put the whole world on pause

fan3: this woman’s lyrics are INSANE they never miss

fan4: she wrote it with her heart it hits so hard

fan5: the way the internet bullied her because she wasn’t « sad enough » is insane to me like wtf??

fan6: you never know what someone is going through behind closed doors, let’s be nicer to each other guys

fan7: i’m sorry but these people are just dumb, she stayed with that guy for YEARS ofc she’s going to be sad

fan8: nah but she clearly confirmed that charles is the one who ended the relationship, so why isn’t he receiving hate?

fan9: i feel so bad for her

fan10: QUEEN

taylorswift: genius!

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taglist: @ferrariloverr