#but it was an anon. so i answered it. and i expanded on it. after reading that article excerpted in my reread of bordo's book

[whytheylosttheirminds]

june gloom - part 2: is this gonna end ever?

(Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader, 6.9k words)

part 1

summary: Six months after Rafe walked out of your life, you're finally picking up the shattered pieces he left in his wake. When you accidentally find yourself working at his wedding, your thrown right back into the chaos you thought you were free from.

content: angst/smut, 18+ minors do not interact!, mentions of alcohol abuse and drugs, mentions of cheating, what could be considered infiedelity

a/n: as a fair warning, the angst only gets worse in this one. however, I promise the third and final part will see a satisfying and happy ending for these two if you stick with me. also, this one got wordy, but after struggling with it for a while i'm very happy with how it turned out. thank you to this anon for inspo and for everyone's support on pt. 1.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊

Crickets chirped a chorus around you as you laid back on the flannel blanket, the grass beneath making a soft pillow for your head. Your lips wrapped around the blunt, lungs expanding to welcome the smoke. You hummed in pleasure as the high-end strain went down way smoother than any of the trash you would usually get on The Cut.

“God, this is good shit,” you said with a lazy smile.

“Only the best for you,” Rafe smirked, leaning over on the blanket to pull the joint from your lips so he could join in your revelry.

He took a long drag and let it go in a smoke ring that rose above you and disappeared into the starry sky. You tried and failed to stifle your laugh.

“What’s funny?” He asked, eyes glazed over with his high.

“Nothing,” you chuckled. “Just…what frat house did you learn that in?”

“Shut up,” he teased back, making you laugh harder.

“No, I’m sure the sorority girls found that very sexy,” you continued.

“They did actually, thank you,” he joked. “You would’ve too.”

“Yeah right, I’d make a great Phi Beta Whateverthefuck,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Did you go to college?” He asked.

You’d known Rafe for about three months, spending nearly every night together since you first met at that club. You had talked about just about everything under the sun except yourselves, you were caught off-guard by this excavation into your history.

“Um, no,” you answered, taking the blunt back from him.

“Why not?”

You shrugged, taking another hit, “didn’t wanna.”

“Do you regret it?” He continued.

You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, looking down at him with a frown.

“What?” He questioned.

“Why the sudden interest?” You said, harsher and less playful than you’d intended to.

Rafe sat up next to you, pulling his knees towards himself to mirror you. His eyes were intense on your face as he mumbled, “you don’t want me to get to know you?”

Truthfully, you wanted that and so much more, but you couldn’t tell him that. You knew this was just a way for him to pass the time until he could get you in bed again, and maybe you were okay with that. You decided you’d entertain the line of questioning, just this once, not knowing then that this was just the first of many deep, meaningful conversations you’d share with him.

You took a deep breath and said, “what do you want to know?”

He looked up at the stars as he considered the answer to that question. You took the opportunity to admire the way the moonlight reflected off of the sharp angle of his jaw.

He decided on “what’s your biggest dream?”

You bit your lip and looked down at your bare feet, digging them into the blanket, not used to this kind of conversation and yet feeling curiously comfortable opening up to him.

“I want to go to India,” you answered honestly. “I read a book when I was a kid about a little girl who grew up in India and I’ve wanted to go ever since.”

Rafe nodded in approval, “that’s a good one. You should go.”

“Yeah, as soon as I win the lottery, it’ll be my first stop,” you joked bitterly.

“Or I could just take you,” he shrugged.

You smiled at him, incredulous. 

“What?” He asked, genuinely unsure of the meaning behind the look you were giving him. You realized he might actually be serious, even though you knew it would never really happen.

“Nothing. That’s sweet,” you smiled. “But I want to get there on my own. I wanna earn it.”

“I can respect that,” he conceded. 

“Anytime you wanna lend me that private jet, though, just hit me up,” you teased.

Rafe chuckled, eyebrows raised, “oh I see…you’re using me.”

“I thought that was obvious,” you smiled coyly. 

“Uh-huh,” Rafe said, playfully shoving your shoulders so you fell back onto the blanket. 

You giggled as he climbed over you, caging you in between his arms as he held himself up, looking down at you, tucked perfectly beneath him.

“I think I’m okay with that.”

He leaned down and kissed you, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip tenderly, lowering himself down until you were chest to chest…

“Are you listening to me?”

Your friend waved her hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention.

“Sorry, what?” You were pulled from your thoughts.

“I said they want us there at four this friday,” she showed you an email on her phone.

“Oh,” you blinked, coming back to the moment. “Where is it?”

“Some mansion on Figure 8. It’s a wedding, but they're doing like a whole weekend thing, so it’s Friday through Sunday. Last time I worked one of these I made over five hundred.”

When she first told you about the catering gig this weekend, you turned her down. You’d been carefully avoiding the north part of the island for the last six months, and a whole weekend would be a high-risk endeavor. However, you didn’t have to check your bank account to know you were near broke, and Figure 8 was where the real money was made. You agreed and ironed your white button down and black slacks, your go-to outfit for catering gigs.

As you pulled up to the address your friend had sent you, you cursed under your breath. The estate was huge, the old house immaculately kept and towering proudly under a crystal blue sky. You turned down the radio as your beat up car sputtered its way up the long, grand drive.

“We’re definitely not on the south side anymore,” you joked to yourself. 

You pulled around back to the service entrance as directed by your friend’s text and tracked her down in the crowd of other blue collar workers. Everyone was moving quickly, arranging the massive party space according to the wishes of some unseen bride and groom. 

You were put to work right away, polishing silverware and arranging it as instructed by the very specific, color-coded diagram you had been given. Tonight was only the rehearsal dinner, and there were two-hundred names on the guestlist. You chatted with your friend as you did various other chores, speculating about who could possibly be the owner of this massive property.

“Maybe it’s a crime lord,” your friend joked. “Like some mafia type shit.”

“Maybe it’s a celebrity,” you guessed. 

You didn’t have to wonder for long. 

“Hey! A little help here!” A delivery driver called to you as he struggled to lift something large and rectangular out of his truck, the mystery item protected with a large, black sheet.

You ran over to give him a hand, and he directed you to a big easel he had set out, “picture of the happy couple,” he explained. You called your friend over, informing her you were about to have all your questions answered.

Once you had set the canvas down, you asked the delivery driver if you could remove the sheet. “I don’t give a fuck, my job’s done,” he said, hopping back in his truck and driving off. You and your friend giggled as you did a little countdown and drumroll routine. You pulled the sheet away and her mouth fell open

“Of fucking course,” she immediately took out her phone to take a picture.

You stepped back to look at the giant, blown up portrait. Every muscle in your body tensed and the blood drained from your face, you grabbed the back of a nearby chair for support. 

There on the oversized canvas, smiling that perfect, crooked, arrogant, beautiful smile, was Rafe Cameron.

He had his arm around the woman you recognized to be the one he’d left you for, calling off your whirlwind love affair in pursuit of something more optically appealing to his family. He’d found it; they were gorgeous together.

Six months had passed since you’d last seen him. The first few months were the hardest you’d ever faced. At first, you went out almost every night, needing to stay shitfaced to keep your mind from wandering to him or your fingers from dialing his number. Eventually, you had to delete him from your phone, not trusting yourself in those late night moments when you missed him so much you thought you might die. No amount of booze or weed could make you forget the feeling of his hands on your body, the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes when he fucked you that last time. Your friends started getting worried. You blacked out so often, you couldn’t keep a job. After three or four months of your reckless behavior, they called a sort of intervention and convinced you to calm down. 

You decided if you were going to be alone, you’d make yourself good company. 

You stopped drinking, and even gave up cigarettes. It took several false starts, but the patch got you through it. You picked up good habits, too, starting your mornings with yoga and meditation. You were planning to go back to school, tired of career-hopping through dead-end minimum wage jobs. You stopped eating take out so much, started grocery shopping and saving every spare cent you had for a travel fund. You even cut and dyed your hair, finding freedom in the ability to change whenever you wanted, in the fluidity of answering to no one but yourself. You were still untamed, but for the first time in your life, you felt a semblance of control. You decided you’d build a beautiful life even if you had to scratch and claw your way to it. And you’d do it all by yourself.

Slowly, and with the most effort you’d given anything ever, you were finally starting to get over Rafe Cameron.

Or so you thought. Now, standing in his backyard, decorating for his wedding, you felt like you were right back where you were that night in June, lying naked on your bed while he walked out of your life forever.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A high-pitched, angry voice startled you, pulling your eyes away from the picture.

You whipped your head around to see her, even more stunning than she was in pictures, her wide Disney-princess eyes shooting daggers at you. Your first and most irrational thought was that she somehow knew who you were. The delusion of that concept was quickly made apparent.

“The picture was supposed to stay covered until tonight,” she barked at you and your friend, who looked at you with wide-eyed panic. “Aren’t you the fucking caterers? Why are you even out here?”

“S-sorry,” you stammered out, your mind reeling as it tried to connect to your reality. You picked up the sheet off the ground. “We’ll cover it back up.”

“No, don’t touch it! Where’s your manager?” She demanded, her hands on her hips. “They need to know about this. What are your names?”

Your friend looked at you with wide eyes, you knew she needed this job even more desperately than you did. Plus, she’d stuck her neck out to get you hired and now she’d lose the money and her credibility.

“It was me,” you blurted out. “Not her. Don’t worry, you don’t need to get anyone fired, I’ll just leave.”

It wasn’t a big sacrifice, considering you were already thinking if you stayed another minute you might have a full blown panic attack. At least if you threw yourself under the bus and got fired, your friend would have no reason to question why you ran from the property crying.

“Fine, whatever,” she dismissed your act of loyalty with a wave of her manicured hand while your friend looked at you with grateful eyes. “What’s your name then?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you handed her the sheet, which she snatched from your hands irritably. “I’ll just go.”

You tried to keep your composure as you walked back toward the house, praying you’d remember your way back to your car. Your heart was pounding, your anxiety and shock threatening to bubble over, you could feel tears springing up and your hands shaking.

You rounded one of the many corners of the massive house, finally out of her line of vision, and broke into a sprint. You passed through another courtyard, where more preparations were underway. There were far too many eyes on you. If you remembered correctly, there was only one more turn before the part of the property you were parked on.

Dirt crunching under your feet, you slid around the corner and straight into something hard and large. You let out a sharp “ouch” as your face burned with the force of the collision. To your horror, you realized you’d run into a person. You kept your eyes low, looking at the man’s feet as you held a hand over your face, wondering for a moment if you’d broken your nose. Then, a familiar scent flooded your senses, and you felt a large hand rest on your shoulder. 

“Woah, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Rafe’s voice asked, clearly unaware of who he was talking to, you looked so different than you did six months ago.

You raised your wide eyes to look at him, hand still cradling your throbbing nose. You took him in through rapidly blinking lashes, begging yourself not to cry. His face shifted slowly from concern for a stranger to recognition of someone all too familiar.

He pulled his hand from you in shock, his mouth opening and closing and opening again, trying to form words that just weren’t coming. You knew you needed to get out of there before they did.

“I’m fine,” you said firmly, hoping he understood you were talking about more than just your injured face.

You sidestepped him and kept running, leaving him standing wide eyed and ashen faced as he watched you get into your car and peel away from his home, and away from him. 

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The key rattled against the lock, your hands shaking as you tried to get into your apartment. When you finally got the door opened, you peeled off your clothes quickly, as if they were covered in something radioactive. You pulled on a tank and some sleep shorts, fully ready to get in bed and stay there for days. Everything in you was unraveling. The sight and sound of him undoing the steel backbone you had built for yourself. You climbed under the covers, curled into a ball, and sobbed.

You cried so hard, it knocked you out. Without trying to, your body fell into a hazy, uneasy kind of sleep, haunted by images of Rafe. When you woke, blinking confusedly at the fuzzy outline of the time on your alarm clock, it was dark outside. The clock read 11:03pm. You pulled yourself from your bed with a groan, craving something to comfort you in your post-meltdown emptiness.

As you stood at the sink, filling the kettle for some tea, your mind replayed the events of the day. He’s getting married tomorrow. The rehearsal dinner that you helped set up for was probably over by now. You pictured him saying goodnight to her with a kiss, hanging his tux for the morning, making sure he had the rings ready. You already knew you’d lost him, but the permanence of tomorrow’s events felt like a boot on the neck of the small part of you that still wondered what if.

Your phone rang out loudly on the kitchen table, making you jump, so startled you almost dropped the tea kettle, the water now overflowing. You set the kettle down on the stove and turned on the burner before looking at your phone screen, which read “unknown number.” You hit decline and let it go to voicemail. After a minute, you poured your tea and sat at the table, watching as your phone lit up again with notification of a new voicemail. You unlocked it and pressed play.

You knew the voice immediately, though it was coming out slurred and strained. You clutched the phone to your ear with both hands to hear better.

“Heyyyy baby. It’s me. I’m sorry for calling so many times, blowin’ up your phone and you’re probably out somewhere, looking fuckin’ gorgeous like always. Shit there’s probably guys lined up to take you home. Do you remember when we met? Fuck you looked so hot. I thought if you said no to going home with me I might literally die. But you said yes! You said yes and you took me home and we, fuck…god…it was so good, you’re so good. Not just the sex. I mean, yes your pussy is so perfect, but…shit it’s raining…but you were- you are…jesus Rafe get it together. I can’t remember what I was saying. I’m so drunk, I- ouch, fuck!- I miss you, baby. It's cold out here but I don’t care, I couldn’t be there anymore. I couldn’t listen to them talk about this fucking wedding. Fucking flowers and table settings and shit I don’t care about any of that…just, please…baby…I need-”

Your phone beeped loudly, the voicemail cut off for length. You replayed it, twice. Outside your kitchen window, you could see the rain getting heavy. The low was in the 30s tonight, and it was supposed to keep raining for hours. You couldn’t hear much in the background behind Rafe’s drunken rambling, but you could tell he was outside. You pictured him stumbling into a ditch somewhere. He had hurt himself on the voicemail, did he fall? You couldn’t stand the thought of him alone, out in the cold rain, hurt.

Despite every instinct, you pulled up the number he called from and texted him.

Today 11:14pm

Where are you?

Today 11:16pm

‘Unknown’ shared their location with you.

You grabbed your coat and keys and ran out the door before you had time to second guess yourself. You found him lying on the beach, his clothes soaked through from the rain that was still falling heavily. He’d clearly thrown up, just a few feet from where he was laying now. You ran to his side and quickly checked that he was breathing.

“Jesus, Rafe,” you recoiled at the overwhelming aroma of booze radiating off of him.

His eyes flew open at the sound of your voice. 

“Baby?” he groaned.

“We gotta get out of here, Rafe,” you struggled to help him up.

With an enormous amount of effort, you got him into your car. He leaned his head against the cold window as you drove, his breath fogging up the glass with each exhale. You looked over at him every few seconds to make sure he was still conscious. 

Once in your apartment, stumbling through the door with his arm over your shoulder, you led him into the bathroom, guiding him to sit on the edge of the tub while you ran the shower, water heating slowly.

You tapped his arms. 

“Up,” you instructed. He lifted his arms obediently and looked up at you through half-lidded eyes as you peeled off his wet polo, doing everything you could to avoid staring at his bare torso.

“Think you can do the rest yourself?” You motioned to his lower half.

“No,” he said with a smirk.

“Rafe,” you warned, not playing around.

“I can do the rest myself,” he said with his hands up in defense. 

You left him in the bathroom fumbling with his belt. While he showered, you brewed a pot of coffee and poured two steaming mugs, sitting uneasily at the table when he finally emerged from the bathroom. He was in only his boxers and you blushed aggressively, as if you hadn’t seen him naked a hundred times before. He caught the redness in your cheeks as you looked down at your hands, swallowing hard.

“Sorry,” he said earnestly. “My clothes are still wet.”

You pushed back your chair and walked to your bedroom, returning with folded clothes in your hands. He looked suspiciously at the men’s t-shirt and basketball shorts you gave him, cocking his eyebrow at you. You just glared back at him, tilting your head slightly as if to say I dare you to give me shit about where I got them. He didn’t push it, pulling them on wordlessly.

“Coffee?” You offered once he was dressed.

“Please,” he slumped into the chair across from you, sipping the coffee with a sigh.

“Feeling better?” You asked.

“Much better, thanks,” he said. “Never mix rum and redbull.”

You snorted, “I could’ve told you that.”

“Well you weren’t there were you?” The sentence started playfully but ended with a bite.

You sipped your coffee, wondering who would be first to acknowledge the elephant in the room. You sat in silence for a few minutes, both drinking your coffee and letting the air grow thick between you.

Finally, he caved and spoke first, “why’d you leave?”

“Why would I stay?” You responded, voice dripping with spite.

“I- I guess I don’t know.” Now it was Rafe avoiding your eyes.

“Does she know…about me?” You asked timidly.

“No,” he mumbled, before sipping up the last drop of his coffee.

“And where does she think you are right now?” 

“My bachelor party.”

“We should get you back there, then.” You stood and collected both mugs, bringing them to the sink.

Rafe scoffed, “you’re kicking me out again?”

“I never kicked you out, Rafe. You left,” you said, clutching the edge of the sink, bracing for an argument.

But he didn’t argue, he just let the silence settle between you for a long moment before finally saying, “I wish I hadn’t. I miss you.”

You turned, expecting to find him still slumped over the table, but he had stood and was now startlingly close. You jolted, squaring your shoulders in defense as he got closer to you.

“Don’t say that,” you pleaded. “I can’t do this with you.”

“Then why’d you come get me?” He asked, his eyelids low as he looked down at you. “Why’d you bring me here?

“Why’d you call me?” You asked back.

“I asked you first,” he said, no playful smile to match his childish words.

“Why does it matter?” You sighed.

“‘Cause it does, it matters to me, please just give me a reason,” his voice grew more desperate as he stepped even closer to you, his looming body caging you against the sink. He searched your face as he waited for you to respond, needing an answer you couldn’t give him.

“Are you gonna marry her?” Your words tightened the tension already growing between you, causing Rafe to close his eyes in frustration.

“I don’t want to talk about her,” he shook his head. 

Rafe lifted his hand slowly, placing it on your waist. He squeezed gently at the soft skin of your side. You leaned into his touch for just a second before coming to your senses.

“Are you? Going to marry her?” You repeated stubbornly.

“Yes,” He said, eyes falling from your face to his hand on your side.

“Then you shouldn’t be touching me,” you grabbed Rafe’s hand and lowered it from you. “I won’t be a mistress. I won’t be that dirty pogue who fucks a married guy, I wanna be something better than that.” 

You slipped out from between him and the sink, pacing to the other side of the room, but his body turned aggressively to follow you.

“You are. You’re so much better,” his voice cracked with urgency as he rushed to reassure you.

You shook your head in anger, raising your voice as you snapped, “then why are you marrying someone else?”

“Because I have to!” He matched your heated tone, as if he was the one to have something to be mad about.

“We’re going in circles, Rafe! We are in the exact same spot we were six months ago! Except I’m a different person now. It changed me, losing you. I got better, I got healthy, I got sober. I got over you!” You were yelling now, searching for the words to make him understand that he wasn’t the only one who had something to lose now.

“Well I didn’t get over you,” he stated simply.

“No, you got engaged,” you pointed out.

“Fuck that, fuck her, you know I don’t love her!” He scoffed. “You saw her today, you know she’s a bitch.”

“That’s really nice, Rafe, you should put that in your vows,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Oh c’mon, she doesn’t love me either,” he rolled his eyes. “She still fucks around, everyone knows it.”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but it took you by surprise. You searched his face for a sign as to whether it was true or just something he made up to make you sympathize with him. The way his eyes fell to the ground and the apples of his cheeks blushed slightly told you it was true, she cheated on him, and he was ashamed of it. It made you sick, the thought of someone having him so close and caring so little. The only thing worse than the thought of her treating him like that was the thought of him accepting it as if it was what he deserved. You should’ve felt sad for him, but it just made you angrier.

“Then why, Rafe? Why?” You knew you were becoming a broken record but you just could not wrap your head around his choice. “Why are you still with her?” You hated the way it made you sound like you were blaming him for her actions, but you needed to understand.

“Because I’m going to have to end up with someone like her anyway, I may as well just get it over with,” he said with a resigned shake of his head.

“That’s fucked up, Rafe,” you said, even though you knew he already knew it.

“It is what it is,” he shrugged, defeated.

Your eyes caught the clock on your stove. It was almost 1am. Rafe was supposed to be saying his vows in twelve hours, and you knew if he stood here in your apartment for another minute, looking at you so helplessly, you’d crumble for him.

“I think you should go home,” you said, trying and failing to mean it.

“Not yet,” Rafe said, his tone implying there was something more he was waiting for.

And even though you wanted to, you just couldn’t give it to him. 

Mustering the last of your pride, you took a deep breath and said, “If you’re waiting for me to ask you not to marry her, we’re both gonna be disappointed. I’ve been doing good, Rafe. I got my life together, and I won’t be responsible for ruining someone else’s. It’s not on me, you have to decide. If you don’t want to marry her, then don’t marry her. But do it for you, because I’ve got me covered.”

Rafe considered your words, standing completely still as they washed over him. He had to choose. He could either ruin his reputation and potentially lose his family to be happy with you or keep the lifestyle he’d grown so accustomed to and be miserable with her. He looked so sad, and you desperately wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but you stayed silent, wanting him to say what he was feeling all on his own for once. You needed a simple answer.

But Rafe Cameron never did anything the simple way.

He didn’t say anything,  he just started walking toward you. Once he was close enough to touch you, and your back was against the wall, he reached up to touch your face gently with one finger, silently asking if you were still in pain from your collision earlier. When you didn’t wince or push him away, he leaned down, bringing his lips dangerously close to yours.

“Just one more time, please. Don’t kick me out, be with me one more time,” he whispered against your skin.

You shook your head slowly, whispering back, “I won’t kick you out, but I also won’t let you touch me and then marry her.”

“Fine, I won’t touch you.” 

Rafe leaned back, only slightly, pulling his face away so you were level with his chest. He folded his hands behind his back to show you he meant it. You could smell his familiar musk, his chest so close to your face you could hear his heartbeat as you looked up at the pulsing veins in his neck. His hair, still wet from the shower, flopped messily over his forehead. A single drop fell from his bangs and landed on your collarbone. Rafe’s eyes darkened as he tracked the droplet rolling across your exposed skin, down your chest, over the curve of your tits and finally disappearing into your tank top.

Eyes locked to Rafe’s, you lifted your hand slowly, placing it over the spot the water had fallen, sliding your fingers delicately down the drop’s path. When you reached the neckline of your tank top, Rafe’s eyes consuming every movement, you reached up with your other hand and lowered one of the straps of your top slowly. You dragged your hand down further, cupping your breast through your lacy bralette and biting your lip at the pressure.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He put one hand on the wall next to your head to steady himself, bringing his body impossibly closer while still not touching you. His other hand fell to his side, moving dangerously close to his dick.

“You better not touch yourself either, or I swear to god I’ll stop,” you warned him.

“Don’t stop,” He brought the drifting hand up to the wall on the other side of your head. “Please, baby.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his voice, raspy and strained with need. With two hands on the hem of your shirt, you pulled it slowly over your head, leaving you in just the see-through undergarment. 

“Take that off too,” Rafe tried to sound dominant, but his voice cracked, betraying him.

“You’re not in any position to make demands,” you scolded with a shake of your head. “And you’re not going to see me naked. You have a fianceé for that.”

Rafe was pained by this, his nostrils flailing as he clenched his jaw in frustration. You ignored him and put your hands back on your body, palming both of your tits again before trailing lower over your stomach. Rafe’s tongue darted out of his mouth and licked his lips as he watched the way your stomach flexed with anticipation, hands finally landing on the waistband of your sleep shorts. One hand pulled the elastic back while the other slid beneath it slowly. When your fingers ran over the fabric of your panties, teasing your clothed clit, your head fell back against the wall and your jaw fell slack. Rafe ran one of his hands through his hair as he watched pleasure flood your face, desperate to touch something, anything. The hand still on the wall closed into a fist. You started rubbing circles over your clit through your panties, the fabric already soaked through, wet since the sight of him in his boxers. Your breath hitched when you found the perfect rhythm and you closed your eyes tight, a melodic moan rising from your throat.

“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking sexy,” Rafe growled through gritted teeth.

Your eyes flew open and you pulled your hand from your shorts, suddenly very aware of the lack of space between you and the vulgarity of what you were doing. You slid under his arm and hurried to the other side of the kitchen.

“You should go,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself and shivering at the sudden loss of his warmth.

Rafe stayed still, trying not to spook you. His head dipped low, looking down at his ringing hands.

“I missed you,” he mumbled helplessly.

“You mean you missed fucking me?” You asked spitefully.

One agonizingly slow step at a time, Rafe crossed the room. You turned from him as if to push him away, literally giving him the cold shoulder. But he wasn’t deterred, he just got closer and closer until he was right behind you, close enough for his breath to sweep across your shoulder as he said, “yeah, what if I do? I miss it so much. There’s not a day that passes without me wishing I was here, fucking you so good you scream my name.”

His arrogant words made you so fucking angry, and so fucking wet.

What little resistance you had mustered disappeared. Breathless, you whispered, “what else do you miss?”

“I miss your little moans,” he continued, the corner of his lips raising slightly at the sight of the goosebumps that shot up your arms. “I bet you still cry out for me when you make yourself come, don’t you? I want you to show me.”

“We can’t do this,” you shook your head.

“No, I can’t do this,” he corrected you. “You can do whatever you want.”

No fight left, you took his suggestion, and soon you were laying back on your bed, your shorts thrown on the floor, your hand moving feverishly under your panties. Rafe laid next to you, his body drawn in as close as it could possibly get while keeping his promise not to touch you. You’d made no such promise, the hand you weren’t rubbing over your slick folds gripping his arm for purchase as you moaned at your own touch.

“Talk to me,” you begged.

“Yeah?” He said excitedly, as if he had been waiting for permission. 

You nodded desperately, bringing your eyes to his as one of your fingers dropped down to enter yourself.

“You remember the first time we fucked?” He began. “Right here on this bed. I took you from behind. You were so tight around my cock, like you were fucking made for me.”

You added a second finger, driven by his filthy words. His jaw clenched, restraining himself with more effort than he’d ever given anything as he watched you writhe.

“Keep going,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut.

“I had to turn you around, I had to see that pretty face when you came for me for the first time,” he recalled. “God, I bet you wish it was me stretching you out right now, don’t you? You wish it was my cock pounding you into the mattress until you can’t breathe, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, lips pouting, overwhelmed by the memories and your need to feel him.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had,” he groaned, feeling himself twitching in his pants, desperate for his own release but committed to yours. “I need to see you come, baby, one more time. Please come for me?”

You cried out as you clenched around your own fingers, their size so inadequate with him so close, knowing what he could be doing to you. But you meant what you said, you couldn’t let him touch you, not while his bride was sleeping just across town, no idea her groom was in some pogue’s bed, begging her to come for him. Maybe it was sick, but the thought of him being so desperate for you that he was risking everything with her made your thighs clench around your hand, nearing the edge.

“Tell me about the first time you saw me,” you pleaded, the rasp in your voice warning him you were close. 

“Holy shit, baby, you were so fucking sexy,” he said, rising up from the bed and propping himself on his arm to hover over you, the proximity throwing you into even more of a frenzy. “Dancing in that club, the way you move, shit, I wanted to lay you down on that dancefloor and fuck you right there. So did every other guy in there. But they didn’t get to have you, I did. And I’ve never been the same since I first touched you.”

It was all too much, his words, the memory, the sensation of your fingers sliding in and out so easily, the way he was talking making you so wet. Your high crashed into you like a truck, your back arching off the bed, your chest bumping into his as you came with his name on your lips.

“There she is, that’s my girl,” Rafe exhaled as you rode out your high. Eventually, your muscles gave out from the pleasure and you slumped back into the bed.

He watched you in rapture as your chest rose and fell with labored breaths, struggling to recover. Neither of you knew what to do next, the shock of what just happened washing over you. Your body was so exhausted from the chaos of the day and the aftershocks of your orgasm, all you wanted was him, and you were too tired to fight it.

“Rafe?” You whispered into the darkness of your bedroom, the light of the moon the only thing illuminating the small space.

“Yeah?” He whispered back.

“Can you hold me?” Your voice sounded so small, and you hated the vulnerability of your request, but at this moment the only thing you wanted in the world was to feel his arms around you.

“I thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” He teased gently.

“I said I’m getting better, not that I’m perfect,” you smiled, turning your body towards him. “And I want to know what it feels like to fall asleep in your arms. Just once.”

“Is it gonna be an issue?” He asked. You knew what he really meant was, “are you going to regret sleeping with an engaged man?”

The answer was yes, but you didn’t care.

“Just let me be a little selfish,” you said, turning around so your back was against his chest, pulling his arm around you. “I had you first.”

“You still have me,” he whispered against your neck, pulling your body into his.

“Shhh,” you said, lifting your fingers gently to his lips. “Go to sleep, Rafe.”

He smiled and did as he was told.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The sunlight landing on your face is what woke you from the deepest and sweetest sleep you’d had in six months. Your first instinct was to smile, humming in satisfaction as you stretched your well rested muscles.

Your second instinct was to reach for him. 

You shouldn’t be surprised, shouldn’t pull your knees to your chest, shouldn’t be crying alone in your cold bed. Of course he left. He was always going to leave.

Some small, pathetic voice in the back of your mind said, “maybe he just went to break things off with her.”

Even though it made you feel like the most pitiful girl in the world, you checked his location, still available from the night before. He was on Figure 8, the address you had gone to yesterday. He was at his wedding. 

He had wanted you to ask him not to marry her. He never would’ve said it, but you could see it on his face. He had too much to lose, too many people depending on him, too much weight on his shoulders. But maybe he would’ve given it all up, if only you’d asked.

You threw your phone across the room in frustration. Maybe you should’ve just asked him to stay with you, maybe you should’ve put your pride aside this one time, maybe this was all your fault. 

You were up and out of bed before you had time to talk yourself out of it. You pulled on your catering clothes from the night before. Surely, they wouldn’t let you in the gate if you looked like some wedding crashing pogue, but maybe you could slip in undetected if it seemed like you still worked there.

You don’t even remember driving there, your stomach on fire with nerves and something that might even be excitement, as you raced across the island. The clock in your car read 1:03pm, and you prayed to whatever god was listening that the ceremony had started late.

As you planned, they let you right in the gate when you said you were with the caterer. You didn’t even bother to park at the service entrance, your tires squealing as you came to a stop right in front of the house, leaving the engine running as you ran towards the ceremony site. You could hear music playing in the distance, hoping it was the processional. 

But when you turned the corner, you heard a large crowd break into applause. You came to a halt, backing up to hide under the cover of a tree a few yards from the end of the aisle. You watched as Rafe appeared, his beaming bride on his arm. He dipped her low, giving her a kiss as the crowd cheered again, the gold ring on his left hand glinting in the sunlight.

You were too late.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

pt. 3 coming soon

[fideidefenswhore]

or, to be extremely clear:

i don't dispute that "no matter Anne’s role in what happened to Mary, it existed, [and] impacted her".

but what has always seemed strange to me is that chapuys' dispatches on the matter are treated as if they are definitive. because we have no corroboration of them (and we don't, despite what weir has claimed-- nothing 'corroborates', there are reports from those such as dr. ortiz, the imperial ambassador to rome, that are relaying what chapuys has already sent him, not corroborating them, as he's not in england himself); the extent of her role is always going to be ambiguous, barring further found evidence on the matter. the only aspect that is definitive is that she was not-- again-- the sole author of mary's treatment, because henry followed an amplified version of the same policy regarding his eldest daughter after anne's execution, and followed it to the extreme.

[nytehavyn-circle]

So, you've already read The Dark Tower and I'm going to guess that Wizards and Glass is your favorite installment(?).

..

>_>

<_<

*hides*

I haven't read The Dark Tower books yet...

I've only ever had glimpses into that world through some of his novels, one being one of my favorite books of Stephen King's, which was written with Peter Straub, is The Talisman.

I know they made a movie/TV miniseries of that book, which I heard was pretty good (for a TV miniseries) but I canNOT, for the life of me, find it ANYWHERE.

I will eventually get around to reading The Dark Tower series, though, I promise...

[jamminvroomvroom]

our secret moments.

ln x fem!reader // childhood friend to lovers

in which you’re friends. best friends. but then you buy a dress for him to take off.

this one is for you guys. thank you for inspiring this, my beloved dress anons. i hope you guys love this as much as i do, and that i got it right for you! obsessed with the concepts and brain rot that went into this aaaaaaa lemme know what you think i beg <3 also sorry if the formatting gets weird, trying out smau elements again :D

songs to set the mood: DRESS by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni! smut, oblivious friends to lovers, fluff, minor angst, mutual pining, general sex acts, language, an argument

5.6k words

-

your dress sparkles like a mirrorball as the lights flash along the strip.

vegas week begins with a bang; it’s the night of lando’s 24th birthday. the name of your dad’s company is plastered all over the city, as it usually is wherever there’s a race weekend. a round of golf leads to dinner plans and you get dressed up nice with your girlfriends.

you’re almost ready when lando texts you, your friends giving you a look that you brush off when they see the papaya heart next to his name. you tell him you’ll all be ready soon, that’ll you meet him and the boys in the lobby.

high heels sound against the marble floor of the hotel. you walk confidently, tall, scanning for the group of men you’ll be spending the evening with. you spot max fewtrell first, your dear friend here for the occasion, and then ash, who has his back to you. it’s because he’s talking to lando, your best friend, the man that made you fly in to sin city a week earlier than you would have liked.

he’s looking at you before you even see him, watching you walk towards him over ash’s shoulder. he’s checked out from the conversation the second he spots you, glittering under the chandeliers. he can’t breathe, because you’re wearing a dress that renders him somewhere between life and death.

but you’re getting closer, and max, who can see the look on lando’s awestruck face, nudges him so hard in the ribs. he forces himself to inhale, smile, keep breathing.

“good evening, mr norris.” you grin, squeezing his shoulder. “we starting with slots or drinks?”

both is the agreed upon answer, and you let loose in the casino. you watch him roll the dice at one of the game tables, and suddenly, you’re twelve years old again, playing board games on the floor of a hotel room, while your dads talk at the bar downstairs.

your father is, perhaps, the worlds biggest motorsport fan. he’d been sponsoring different series’ since you were little, and he hadn’t stopped expanding as you’d gotten older. that’s how you’d met lando, aged ten years old with braids in your hair, covered in mud, somewhere in the english countryside. you’d been going to kart races since you could walk, and you were sure from the first time you spoke to the small british boy that you’d be destined to meet him. he’d left a mark on you that day, something golden; he radiated sunshine.

your friendship flowed like wine over the years, nice and easy. time on the road with your father meant that lando was the friend you saw the most, and it stayed that way throughout your teenage years. lando’s step up into formula 1 was paired very well with your dad’s investment into mclaren, and five years later, you rarely missed a race.

lando was so easy to be friends with that it was only natural that he was just as easy to love. platonically. you loved him platonically. it was easy to have late night dinner’s with him in his hotel room, easy to walk around the cities you visited with him until your legs hurt, easy to fall asleep on his bed after a netflix binge. so when he told you to pack your bags and be in vegas, it was like he’d pulled an invisible string, because of course, that’s where you would be.

your friend is waving her hand in front of your face when you finally snap out of it. you’ve been staring across the room for god knows how long, and now the girls are laughing at you.

okay, so maybe it’s not just platonically, but you’d rather die than admit it.

“still gonna tell us there’s nothing between you?” nancy, one of your closest friends, teases. your other friend, mia, is giggling beside her. they’d both flown out for the race as well, and had spent the last two years helplessly watching you fall harder and faster.

“shut up,” you whine. “he’s my-“

“best friend.” they both cut you off in unison, mockingly. nancy rolls her eyes.

“he is!” you protest, waving them off.

you leave them in the dust to join the lads at the table. lando’s arm is draped over your shoulder the second you arrive.

“lost your millions yet?” you whisper into his ear. he tuts in response, knowing grin on his face.

“you have no faith in me, honey.” he bumped your hip with his as he spoke.

the game continues, and somehow, much to your surpise, lando gets richer. the walk from the casino to the club is short, and soon enough, you’re drunk and sweating under strobe lights. rounds and rounds of shots disappear and you sink deeper and deeper into the booth you’d reserved.

you let the music thrum through your body, closing your eyes in contentment. a knee nudges yours, and you open your eyes to see lando sliding into the booth next to you. he hands you a drink, and you mouth him a thank you.

“got your eye on anyone here?” lando’s head is resting in the crook of your neck when he asks. it’s obviously just so that you can hear him.

you pull back from him, scanning his face for a moment, really taking him in. the slope of his nose, curls matted on his forehead, grey blue eyes that you swear flit to your lips for just a second. just a brief second. you smile, soft and tired.

“nope.” you mouth back to him. “you?”

lando returns your smile, mirroring you perfectly. he shakes his head.

it’s around 3:30am when you crave the sweet release of sleep. your feet are aching and your head is throbbing. no questions are asked when lando offers you a piggyback ride.

you ignore the way your friends look at you both when he carries you up to your room.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, yourfriendnancy, yourfriendmia, maxfewtrell and 378,654 others

youruser: sin city for nozza’s birthday

user: are they together?

otheruser: mother?

landonorris: lost millions.

user2: the photo of the dress next to the photos of lando? she’s tryna tell us something i think.

and 444 other comments

-

you ignore the nausea pooling in the pit of your belly.

apparently, the medical centre isn’t that far away when you sprint there. harsh fluorescent lights greet you when you burst through the door, searching for a mop of curls and a burst of orange. your eyes find adam, lando’s dad, and you rush to his side.

“is he okay?” something about the fear in your eyes makes adam crack a smile. it seems there’s no hiding how you feel from anyone except lando.

“they’re just checking him over now, think they might take him to the hospital, just to be safe.” adam explains. “he was asking for you.” he smiles again.

“so it’s just precautionary?” you ignore the last bit. you ignore the way it makes your stomach twist and your brain fight to keep a smile off of your face.

“you can see him, if you want.” adam gestures towards the nearest examination room.

you’re gone before he can say anything more, bursting into the room without even thinking of knocking.

lando’s pretty much stoned. god knows what they gave him but it seems to be working; he’s propped up on the bed, cracks a sleepy smile when he sees you.

“hey, pretty girl.” he drawls, waving slowly. you pray you’re not blushing.

“scared me out there, you prick.” you joke, but your voice shakes.

“c’mere.” he frowns, so you walk around his bed. he slaps the small spot next to him clumsily, and you perch on the edge of the bed.

lando grabs your hand, pulling you in closer, eyelids drooping as he does it.

“i’m sorry, honey. always wanna race well for you.” lando is pouting. he’s fucking pouting at you.

“hey, hey, it’s fine! as long as you’re okay.”

he nods like a child being told off, but he doesn’t drop your hand. he doesn’t drop it in the helicopter to the hospital, either.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, ashjbibby, yourfriendnancy and 344,555 others

youruser: alls well that ends well (but i’m in a new hell every time you go to the hospital)

landonorris: whoops?

user1: THE TAYLOR LYRICS HELLO?

user44: do y’all think we can’t see you.

user2: 3RD SLIDE HELLO?

yourfriendnancy: anyway. the dress ate.

otheruser: @ yourfriendnancy WHAT DO YOU KNOW

and 567 other comments

-

“i just don’t get why you keep wearing the fucking shoes if they hurt so much.” lando bumps your shoulder with his, teasing you.

“sometimes you do what you gotta do for the ‘fit.” you huff, trying to keep up with him.

you’re on your way to dinner with lando, marking your first night in dubai. the restaurant isn’t too far, but your shoes are simply not cooperating. you’d left lando to book a table, knowing that a name drop from him would mean good food and not too many people there to watch you both eat it. after vegas, the rumour mill was working overtime, and you’d had a headache for two days as a result.

none of your other friends have arrived in the emirates yet, so it leaves just the two of you to hang out. it’s something you usually love to do, but after the whirlwind of the last few days, it makes your tummy twist.

you can’t stop thinking about the hospital, your hand in his, the way he’d demanded you accompany him despite the presence of his literal father. you absolutely can’t stop thinking about “pretty girl” or the lazy smile on his face when he said it, like it was what he always called you. he usually sticks to honey, not the most platonic thing in the world, but he said it once and it just stuck.

you’re pulled out of your downward spiral by the way he suddenly comes to a stop in the middle of the pavement. you look at him confused, but then he’s making a suggestion that makes you want to lay done in front of an oncoming ferrari.

“want me to carry your shoes? you can put them on right before we go in.” lando shrugs. you must be blushing by the way he fights off a smile.

“lando, i cannot walk down the streets of dubai shoeless.” you scowl. he chuckles.

“says who? give ‘em here. you can wear mine if you want.” lando reasons, and after staring at him likes he’s grown a second head, you cave.

you start to crouch down but he beats you to it. your breath hitches in your throat when his fingers graze your ankle. you watch in shocked silence as he undoes each clasp, letting you step out of the shoes. the pavement is relatively cool under your feet, and it snaps you out of your state. you decline his offer of his own shoes, and he’s started walking again when you stop him.

“lando, why are you doing this?”

“you took good care of me last weekend. least i can do.” he tells you, and you nod once. “c’mon, we’re gonna be late.” he ushers you along and you walk the rest of the way in silence, silver heels swinging in his hand.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, maxfewtrell, yourfriendmia and 332,211 others

youruser: dinner w bestie

user: lando took this. bet.

user3: her other friends aren’t in abu dhabi yet she has to be with lando

landonorris: how was dinner?

youruser: @ landonorris u tell me.

user4: a date if i ever saw one?

user63: are we sure they’re not just friends?

user4: @ user63 girl. be so fr

and 329 other comments

-

the restaurant is licensed, so you find solace in a glass of white wine. lando sticks to water.

your mains arrive and you natter back and forth, discussing the end of the season and any gossip you may have acquired. you barely stop laughing, head thrown back every time he opens his mouth. it feels easy again, and you find yourself thawing out, previous worries shoved to the back of your mind.

“so what’s next year looking like? last year of your degree.” lando wiggles his eyebrows, wearing a hint of pride on his face.

“might have to stay away from race tracks for a while. it’s gonna be a busy year.” you sigh. his face obviously falls.

“how long is a while? need my cheerleader.” it’s said in jest, but desperation lies in the outskirts of his voice.

“until the summer break.” you frown. you’d gotten far too comfortable studying on the road.

“can’t you continue as you are? i’m gonna mis- your dad will miss you.” lando corrects himself and your fork clatters against your plate.

“can’t get rid of me too easily, norris.” you clean up the awkward mess before it can even become one, returning to the lighter side of the conversation.

“trust me, i’m not trying to.” he flirts. in jest.

you roll your eyes and gulp down wine.

youruser just posted on instagram

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youruser: new heights n pretty lights

user2: i know who took 3/4 of these pics.

landonorris: i want that hat back btw

user6: she is the moment

user: mommy? huh who said that?

and 588 other comments

lando.jpg just posted on instagram

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lando.jpg: from the road

oscarpiastri: violation.

youruser: can u send me these. especially the one of oscar :)

user4: WAIT didn’t she post the second one a while? LANDO TOOK IT?

user81: oscar 😭😭

maxfewtrell: why don’t you take nice pictures of me like this?

user11: the wags are fighting omg

and 799 other comments

-

your back is to his chest and the music is unbearable. it doesn’t stop you from swaying your hips against his.

nothing beats the abu dhabi grand prix’s after party.

lando stays p6 in the championship, but it’s only by one stupid point. celebration is certainly called for, and you bask in the freedom of the season ending.

you don’t even want to think about the way he hugged you when he got out of the damn car.

so you don’t. you drink and you dance and you beg for someone else to try and take you home so that you can avoid him. you’re scared, fucking terrified, and avoiding him seems like the best option.

that’s until he finds you in the sea of people, because of course he does, and you get closer, closer, closer, until there’s no room for god and his hands are on your hips.

it feels too fucking good to stop, you can’t even compute pulling away, so you let yourself go. what’s the point in trying to hide the way you feel when he’s holding you against his crotch? ah, yes. a cornerstone of friendship.

but it’s too hot and it’s too bright and it’s too loud and the anxiety hits. it hits and you can’t stop the way you freeze up against him. you’re sick to death of pretending. you’re sick to death of nights like this one repeating themselves far too often, only to wake up in the morning and act like it means nothing. like the way he holds you and looks at you and touches you means nothing.

no matter how drunk he is, no matter how far gone he is, he knows you too damn well. he’s spinning you around in his arms and pulling you through the hoards of people.

cool air lands on your flushed skin and you realise you’re in the smoking area. lando looks wrecked, but he’s watching you as intently as he can manage.

“you okay, honey? want me to take you home?” he’s rubbing your arm as he speaks and tears well in your eyes. you’re not entirely sure why.

“stay, i don’t wanna ruin your night.” you croak. you need to get out of there immediately.

“no, no, no, you’re my priority, i’ll call us a driver and w-“

“stop it, lando. i can go back to the hotel alone.” he looks bewildered, and you don’t blame him. you sound harsh, way too harsh considering what he’d offered.

“i should take you.” he replies quietly and you feel bad.

great, now you are crying.

“just- i don’t want this to change, i don’t want us to change and if you keep on like this-“

alas, everything changes, then. every unsaid word is fair game and neither of you are holding back. the shots you’ve thrown back fuel an explosion.

“if i keep on like this? what, you think i don’t see the way you look at me?” lando’s words hit like venom and you’re white hot with embarrassment.

fiery despair hits you and you’re bound to regret every word when you’re sober and sane.

“at least i don’t fuck with your head.”*

“you think that doesn’t fuck with my head? the one woman i- fuck, you know what? it doesn’t matter.” he bites his tongue but you most certainly don’t.

“what? what, lando? as if the way i look at you compares to carrying my shoes and putting me to bed and calling me pretty and every other thing that you do to drive me up the fucking wall.” you spit.

your tears burn your cheeks, you’ve always been an angry crier, and they fall faster when he practically deflates and turns away, disappearing into the club.

you make your getaway, your father’s assistant sends you a car.

you cry yourself to sleep in your hotel room, watching the orange sun rise.

-

the flight home is quiet.

your plans to fly home with lando are abandoned, and you board the earliest flight available.

you never fight with him, so you don’t know how to proceed. everything had changed in a matter of words and you ignore the lump in your throat when you land in miserable, rainy london alone.

you’re surprised to see your dad’s blacked out range rover waiting for you when you get through customs. he’d been on the first flight out of the emirates as soon as the race had finished, and you assumed he’d be asleep for at least a day or two. the man never rests during the season, from the minute the lights go out in bahrain, until the flag falls in abu dhabi. then, he biblically crashes, the excitement and adrenaline hibernating until next year. average behaviour for the world’s biggest motorsport fan.

he’s out the car and opening the boot for you before you even reach him, and he’s pulling you into his fatherly embrace when you finally do. you let out a shaky breath, having been in desperate need of a hug.

“hey, kid.” he mutters into your ear. maybe it’s good to be home.

“what are you doing here?” you ask from the passenger seat, once all of your luggage is packed into the car.

your dad sighs, turning to look at you. you groan, thudding your head against the headrest. you know that look, the one that precedes a motivational speech, a bit of tough love, and usually very sound advice that you never ask for.

“lando called me.” he deadpans. they’d grown somewhat annoyingly close over the years.

“fantastic.” you reply, sarcasm as clear as day.

“he was beside himself. told me what happened.” your dad says softly and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“it’s so, so fine. i don’t wanna talk about this.” your voice trembles and you don’t have the energy to cry anymore.

“there’s nothing wrong with telling him how you feel, sweetheart. don’t throw something away because you’re scared.” and, here we go… you think.

“i can’t lose him.” you whisper, furiously wiping away the stray tears that fall, staring out the window.

“you won’t lose him if you tell him. trust me, kid. we all see how that boy adores you. no father ever thinks a guy is good enough for their girl, but lando comes pretty damn close.”

“i don’t even know where to begin.” you rub your temples, battling the tension headache you’d developed sometime the night before.

“well, start thinking. you’ve got a week.” you can see your dad smirking from the corner of your eye.

“what?” you blurt, blindsided. you’d need more than a fucking week.

“end of year gala, kid. pick a dress.”

fuck.

-

youruser just posted on instagram

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youruser: commotion for the dress?

yourfriendmia: *commotion*

user5: on my knees begging

user1: no lando like? divorce? 😟

mclaren: always good to see you! 🧡

yourfriendnancy: kicking my feet looking at this lord have mercy

and 504 other comments

-

you’re glowing, draped in champagne pink silk.

from the other side of the room, you watch lando, and he watches you. it’s like a game, who’s gonna break first? who’s going to extend the olive branch?

he looks so pretty in his suit that you would cry if there were any tears left in you, if you hadn’t purged them all out of frustration and longing in the week of radio silence.

you’re nursing a glass of champagne, waiting for dinner to start. the room is full of rich people with big ideas, icons of the racing world, both past and present. you make small talk with oscar and his girlfriend, exchange pleasantries with your father’s many friends, and beg that lando makes the first move.

the clinking against a glass indicates that dinner is ready to be served, and you scan the tables for your place card. apparently, the event coordinator has a vendetta against you, because scrawled in deep orange cursive on the place card next to yours is mr lando norris. you scan the room for the nearest exit. your grand scheme to flee in a floor length gown and too high heels is interrupted by the sound of your chair scraping out next to you.

you feel a ghost of breath against your bare shoulder. curls tickle your skin and then, a head rests in the crook of your neck.

he says your name, and the world stops for a second.

“i’m sorry.” lando whispers in your ear, and your heart falls to your stomach.

you whip around, holding him tight as you wrap your arms around him. the tension plaguing your body since abu dhabi dissipates in seconds.

“don’t apologise. just… i missed you.” you sigh.

“you look… fuck. you’re gorgeous.” he breathes in your ear. one hand skims low over your waist. something inside of you explodes.

you don’t even try to fight the blush that tinges your cheeks.

someone important is trying to make a toast, so you take your seats. you’re not listening to a word being said, though. you just smile at lando, and lando smiles back.

you’re gonna tell him, you decide. he has to know, although you suspect he already does; you can’t imagine another day without the privilege of him looking at you the way he is right now.

dinner is a breeze. you eat, drink, laugh at the stories exchanged. you remember why you love this world you were raised in, and find yourself grinning mindlessly at your father as he rattles off yet another wild tale from your travels. you’re lucky, you know you are, and it’s reaffirmed when the man sat beside you - who you think you love a bit more than platonically - drapes his arm over the back of your chair.

plates are cleared away and a band starts their set on the makeshift stage. the mtc is lit so beautifully, fairy lights twinkle above you casting dainty light over the makeshift dance floor.

“dance with me.” lando requests. he hates to dance at these functions, so you know the request comes from the heart.

“lead the way.”

he takes your hand and you make your way onto the floor, which is slowly filling up with other couples. his hold is firm, yet gentle, and you lean into him as he keeps you close. eventually, your ear is to his chest, and you can hear his heart hammering away. you melt further into him as the song plays out, and you wish it would play forever.

“we gonna talk about it?” lando murmurs, just loud enough over the music.

“we are.” you mumble against the lapel of his jacket.

“come home with me.”

you nod, inhaling the scent of his cologne; god, how you missed every little part of him.

you keep dancing and dancing, until the champagne runs out and the band starts to pack up.

-

the door slams softly behind you.

lando takes your coat, and you drop your bag on his coffee table. when you turn around to find him, he’s stood in the doorway watching you. there is so much to say, but you can barely form a thought.

“i can’t take this any longer.” lando tells you.

your breath hitches in your throat.

“neither can i.” you whisper.

“we can be more.”

“what do you want us to be?” your chest is tight and you’re looking at him so fucking intensely, desire as clear as day in your eyes.

“you know what i want. and i know you want it too.” he walks towards you slowly as he speaks, footsteps punctuating each word.

“i need to hear you say it.” you breathe. you’re shaking; you’re not sure if it’s the anticipation or the way you’re holding yourself back.

“all i want, all i ever wanted, is you.” he’s right in front of you and his hands are on your waist. you’re tingling everywhere.

lando’s nose bumps yours. you’re scanning his face, every line, freckle, slope that maps him out. he can’t help but look at your lips, darkened eyes flitting over your face. all you can hear is shaky breaths, and perhaps your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“can i…?” lando mutters.

you close the gap some more, lips brushing his.

“of course you can.”

he kisses you like he’ll die if he doesn’t. his hands cup your cheeks and yours find his neck, gently pressing your fingertips into his skin. lando’s frantic, passionate, oh so careful as he deepens the kiss, pulling you somehow closer. you hum in surprise, and you feel him smirking. he’s moving hungrily, and you’re starving, impatient when your hands find his curls. the groan he emits at the sensation makes you ache for him all over.

you’re both panting when you pull away, the urgency to breathe the only thing stopping you. the relief you feel is astronomical, your lips lock perfectly and he feels wondrous under your explorative hands. he smiles wide and you grip his collar, pressing your forehead against his.

“i was gonna tell you, and then you turned up looking like this… fuck.” lando groans, and you can’t help but lean up into him once more.

the kiss is slower this time, languid, and he licks slowly into your mouth. his pupils are blown when you break apart and his eyes flutter open. your thighs clench under your dress.

“so, you like the dress?” you giggle incredulously, buzzing from the interaction. lando looks at you like you’re stupid.

“you look…” he runs his eyes over you, pausing mid sentence tentatively.

“say it.”

“fucking incredible.”

“thanks. bought it with you in mind.” you tease, smirking coyly.

his jaw goes slack; you can see him mentally undressing you, and then he’s kissing you all over again.

his bedroom isn’t far, but he insists on carrying you there, sweeping you up into his arms. he peppers kisses over your neck, kicking the door open with his dress shoe.

lando places you on your feet at the foot of his bed, smoothing his hands over the curve of your waist, the silk of your dress. he tucks your hair behind your ears, drawing you close once more as he does, cupping your face in large, calloused hands.

“what do you want tonight?” lando asks, searching your face for any sign of hesitancy.

“need you. all of you.” you keen into his touch, and his breath hitches in his throat.

“we’ll go slow.” he murmurs.

“no.” you shake your head, and his hands drop from your face. “don’t want to hold back anymore.” he finds your ass, grazing his fingers upwards until he finds the fastening of your dress. you maintain eye contact while he drags the zip down, shivering as your hear the faint buzz of the metal.

lando stops, just for a second in an attempt to compose himself.

“take it off. bought it so that you could take it off.” your brutal honesty breathes some urgency into him.

he keeps his eyes on yours as the silk falls off your body, pooling at your feet. the cool air brushes your skin - covered only by lacy panties and stilettos - but his touch warms you when he grabs your waist. lando walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the foot of the bed. he places you on the bed, on top of you like a shot, kissing you into the mattress.

he clambers off of you, sliding down your body until he reaches your heels. kisses trail up your legs while he takes them off, the thud of them hitting the floor making you jump. anticipation pools in your barely there underwear; he can see you, all of you, and he cannot bring himself to look away.

“careful with those, they were expensive.” you joke, but your voice sounds wrecked already. you can’t even imagine how you’ll sound when he’s done.

“i have different priorities right now.” he flashes a grin and you lose him between your legs.

your underwear stay on when he dives into your pussy, teeth scraping over your covered folds. he can definitely taste you already, stuttering out a moan as he casts his tongue over you. you sink deep into the sheets, bucking your hips into his face, but his hold on you is firm and you have to relent. he lets go of you for a moment, just to pull your panties down, and as soon as they’re gone, he’s delving deep into you.

the sounds he’s making are obscene, his entire face buried away. lando flicks his tongue over your clit, beginning an extended assault on your nerve endings, sucking hard and fast until you whimper his name. a knot forms in your core.

lando takes his mouth off of you, lips slick and glistening. he swipes his tongue over them, sitting back on his haunches. he begins rolling his sleeves up, and you manage to push yourself up so that you’re resting on your elbows. you reach out to toy with the buttons of his dress shirt, leaving his torso exposed to you. you rake your nails over his abs, transfixed on the way he tenses, shudders under your touch. once his sleeves are out of his way, he pushes you back. your hair fans out around you as he resumes his position between your legs.

one finger ghosts over your clit, poking and tracing the bud. you’re reeling, writhing at the feeling of everything and almost nothing at all. he drags the digit down until he finds your entrance, abandoning the teasing and slipping it inside of you. he twists his wrist, adding a second finger, grinding them deep. he’s slow with it, watches the way your face twists in euphoria, finding a deep sense of pride in the way he makes you shake.

“you have no fucking idea how long i’ve wanted to do this.” his words have you clamping down on him, fucking yourself onto his hand.

“the feeling’s mutual.” you gasp.

lando cocks an eyebrow. he scales your body until he’s hovering over you again, fingers still working in and out of you. the angle change is delightful, your back arching and your nipples harden as they skim his bare chest.

“is it, honey? was it mutual all those nights i pictured you next to me, right on this bed? all those nights i watched you dance in your short skirts? all those nights i carried you to bed and wished i could stay?” he whispers right into your ear. his fingers speed up.

“fuck, lando. yes.” you cry, mouth hanging slack.

“tell me. tell me how mutual it was and i’ll let you come, pretty girl.” he teases; goosebumps litter your skin. there he goes again with pretty girl. this fucking man.

“always wanted more… was too scared to ask for it.”

“oh?” he coos, mockingly.

“couldn’t lose you if you didn’t want me.” you pant. a weight lifts off your chest as you let the words slip, his efforts sending you hurtling towards an orgasm.

“not going anywhere.” he kisses the base of your throat. “ever.” he punctuates, thumb sliding over your clit. “let go, love.”

the wave of pleasure crashes on your shores and it doesn’t stop, rippling through your belly and down into your toes. lando’s name falls from your lips like a sin, over and over until you can’t even hear yourself anymore.

lando’s smiling when you come down, small and knowing. he pecks your lips, once, twice, humming into the kiss when your hands find a home under his shirt. it’s unbuttoned already, so it slides over his bronzed shoulders easily. you hear it thud softly when it hits the floor.

“what?” you catch him looking at you, giddy.

“i can’t believe we’re doing this.” he grins. his words overwhelm you.

“i know.” you beam up at him bashfully.

he undresses himself and then the wait is over, and god knows it was a long one. he finds home between your thighs, runs his cock through your folds.

“you sure?”

“don’t make me wait any longer.” you insist.

it takes you a moment to adjust; he strokes your walls nice and deep and you feel everything he has to offer you. it’s surreal, really, stretching around him like this. you’d only ever daydreamed of the possibility, and now that it’s happening you can’t quite believe it. he moans low, forehead resting on yours. you watch his eyes roll back when he bottoms out.

your lip is quivering; it’s too intense, he’s too good. he takes it slow, just like he’d insisted, but he grinds deep, long strokes making you dizzy. you leave imprints of crescents in his shoulder blades, marking his pristine skin.

you can’t take much more of this, his hips hitting yours at such a delectable pace. he drags in and out, building a blissful rhythm and you’re whimpering into his neck. your teeth dig into the muscled plane of skin, minimal pressure applied, and his thrusts turn erratic, curses tumbling freely from his pink parted lips. it makes you squirm, spilling all over him, white hot and wet.

lando collapses into your damp body, the room is humid. you drag your nails through his hair, pushing the sweat slicked curls off of his forehead, and then your hand thuds lazily against the pillow.

“i’m done pretending.” he mumbles. “i’m yours.”

the last few years of your life flash before your eyes. you think back to his buzz cut and every time you’d failed to rebound. you think of bleached hair and lies about love and how he always saw the best in you. you think of nothing but him, you, together. he’s carved into you now, you think he always has been.

you fall asleep happy. you’ll wake up by his side and then you’ll do it the morning after, and the one after that too.

-

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by landonorris, mclaren, francisca.gomez, lilymhe and 735,641 others

youruser: our secret moments

landonorris: “only bought this dress so you could take it off” 🕺🏻✨💘

youruser: @ landonorris omg shut up (omw over)

user1: FINALLY

user4: bisexual panic is a real thing.

otheruser: i used to pray for times like these

maxfewtrell: took you long enough.

yourfriendmia: mum n dad

user63: mclaren ships it and so do i

and 1,442 other comments

-

taglist

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maintenance: i’ve removed any tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed!

[ovaryacted]

me and a friend were talking about Leon during classes today and I couldn’t get dad bod Leon out of my mind😪 I need it bad

I just imagined him coming home tired after a long day of work and needing and relief and just letting reader suck him off or bending us in half, being all soft and warm and I had to stop thinking about it because I was getting distracted😭

-🐏

MDNI/18+. NSFW. | Vendetta! Dad Bod! Leon x fem! reader CW: blowjobs, fingering | WC: 1.1k

I've been meaning to answer this message for a while but haven't had the energy to properly decipher my thoughts. But yeah ram anon, listen I've been in a serious dad bod Leon phase which is all @larvamars fault with their recent drawings. I have moments where I'm at work and my brain just goes "mmm, Vendetta! Dad Bod! Leon" and I lose focus so I get it. It's just something comforting about him having a stomach and thickness that you can grab on to. I need it bad.

Stepping through the front door, the agent walked over the threshold of the entryway and closed the door behind him. Lowering the zipper of his leather jacket, he tossed it over the back of the couch and trudged towards it, plopping himself down with a heavy grunt. Leon placed his head against the edge of the couch and inhaled before exhaling out of his mouth, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose as his eyes fluttered closed.

Today was a pain in the ass, the cycle of continuous bio-weapon debriefs and missions gave him a run for his money and an unwanted migraine. All he had been thinking about was coming home and cuddling with you, rotting away in bed together until the next morning. He missed you, he always did, and lately, you have been the only source of release from his pent-up stress.

"Leon? Is that you?" He heard your voice filter through his thoughts, lifting his head slightly from where he rested to skim your silhouette.

"Yeah baby, it's me. Come here," opening his arms out for you, you didn't need to be told twice to move, gravitating towards him and situating yourself over his denim-clad lap.

"Rough day?" You asked him, thick arms wrapping around your waist to bring you closer to his warm chest. He breathed in and breathed out, your scent filling his senses and easing his ticked nerves.

"Something like that," he groaned when you rubbed at the base of his neck, lightly massaging his nape. He gripped your thighs and caressed you, the rough material of his fingerless leather gloves contradicting his needy touch.

"I missed you today," he confessed in a tired whisper, kissing softly along the side of your neck, his affectionate side coming through.

"You did?"

"Of course I did. Needed to come home so you can take care of me." He squeezed your body a bit harder, the tension he felt building up and flowing to another region down south.

You hummed in contentment, hands running down from his neck to the softness of his chest and towards his lower stomach. He knew he didn't have the same physique from a few years ago when he was younger, the extra weight counted on with time and his figure began to expand. It initially bothered him and it took him a long while to fully look in the mirror again. But to you? It just gave you more to grab, more to hold, more to love.

"Yeah? Need me to make you feel better baby?" You leaned forward the slightest bit, giving him a sweet peck and his hips a teasing grind. The corner of his lips curved in a smile, his dimple shy of making itself known along with the growing bulge hidden underneath his jeans.

"Mhm. You're the only one that knows what I need," he gripped onto your hips, meshing his lips with your own and urging your mouth open to make room for his tongue. You could taste the faint traces of whiskey left behind from when he snuck a sip from his flask earlier, not that you minded.

He was always touch-deprived, always greedy for more but you never complained. You were more than inclined to please him the best way you knew how.

Propped on your knees in front of the couch, you bobbed your head over Leon's cock, a daily occurrence it seemed, and one of your favorite things to do. The fingers of one hand grasped at the thickness of his thighs, a soft layer of fat over the muscle he sported so frequently. The other was busy rubbing at your clit beneath your cotton shorts in tight circles, moaning with every pass of your tongue over his length.

"Feels so good sweetheart," Leon said above you, his neck strained with the way his head was thrown back, clasping your jaw to guide your movements over him.

“Open wider for me baby, want to be deep in there,” he commanded, instinctively relaxing your jaw until he hit the back of your throat with ease, gagging before repeating the act over and over again.

“Fuuuck, that’s it,” he hissed, shifting his attention downwards to watch you suck him off. 

You held his gaze then, following up his happy trail and his lower tummy, admiring the way it folded and creased from the way he slouched. You focused on the stretch marks that made a tantalizing path around his hips and his biceps, lines you wanted to trace with an imprint of kisses. Whimpering at the thought, you drooled around his length, his pelvis becoming a mess of spit from the amount that dribbled out of you. You moaned loudly when you slipped two fingers into your pussy, wishing you had something more to fill the empty ache between your legs.

Leon grinned at the sight of you craving his touch so badly, paying attention to the telltale signs of you reaching the edge with the way your hand pumped in and out of you.

“So desperate for me, poor thing hates being empty,” he patronized you, the pleasant hum you gave him sending his hips jerking into your face. It was only a matter of time before he spilled down your throat and made a mess of you—just the way you wanted.

“Don’t worry. I’ll feed ya, honey. Just a little bit more and you got me,” Leon grumbled, fucking up into your mouth with an audible plap plap plap. Your throat constricted around him, his balls hitting your chin with every thrust he gave you. Eyes rolling into the back, you focused on regulating your breathing when he slammed your head down to press your nose into his pubic hair as he came.

“Take it, fucking take it.” He practically roared from his release, pudgy stomach and dense legs flexing from your touch, your nails digging into him and leaving crescent marks. You choked as your walls clenched around your digits, in tune with his climax and your own hitting you with a dull cry.

As gently as he could, he drew you away from his softening cock, letting you catch your breath with a light cough. Your lips felt numb and your eyes were bloodshot with tears, but you’ve never been more satisfied, a dopey smile evident on your features.

“How about I return the favor now? Gotta clean up the mess my girl made.” He proposed with a smirk, affectionately wiping away the spit that stained your cheeks along with the tears that left their streaks.

This was why Leon liked coming home to you. You’ll always be there with open arms, an open mouth, and open legs.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[with-my-calamitous-love]

heyy i just found your blog and read your stuff about touya/dabi and i actually love all of that, do you write headcannons too? because your way of playing dabi is so unique and canon. if you do i was thinking about his s/o being part of the LOV, like last joined. thank u so much if you’re gonna take it!!

yes i can! hope this is what you imagined non 💌 thank you for the love

DABI HEADCANONS !

touya tdrk x reader

headcanons for his s/o being apart of the league with him

not inspired by a particular song :(

- touya definitely doesn’t bat you match of an eye when you first join. he figures that everyone has their reasons for joining the league. you don’t get in the way of his, and he won’t give a rats ass about yours.

- it was never apart of his plan to care about someone the way he cares about you. he’s the type to care but show it in small ways. he gave you his coat once when you came back from the pouring rain, and claimed he didn’t want to hear any annoying coughs or sniffles from you the next day.

- you confuse his heart and he hates it. you two find yourself on some rooftop, talking about your reasons, your life and how you ended up here. you fully expect him to be an asshole- and he is- shrugging and telling you that thats how life is. but he also has enough grace to tell you that you didn’t deserve it, and that part he means.

- one day, you come back injured, small burns from a certain flame hero that certainly catch his eye. he crudely drags your arm over to the nearest sink, running your burns under cold water and bandages them. he makes sure to specify for the nonstick, sterile bandges after he’s applied a damp cloth to your injuries. he claims its because he hates the smell of burnt flesh, and knows you probably take shit care of yourself. (much to your chagrin.)

- the answer was simple. dabi gets burned by his own quirk, so he knows how to take care of burns. but something in your gut told you it was a lot deeper than that. the way this asshole cared for your injuries seemed more personal. it takes a lot of contemplation, and you fully expect a jerkass response when you ask him how he knows how to do this.

- he scoffs, and gives you the reaction everyone would have expected before he answers with something simple: “..my mom taught me.”

- in a small way, he’s shown you a side of him you never thought to see. and its the start of something beautiful.

hope you liked this anon! i’ll definitely be expanding on this idea in the future 🤍 thank you for the love

[megistusdiary]

ur favorite dehya anon is here miauuuu :3 i was pondering about it but since dehya is catlike, she'd have heat cycles methinks and i feel like during those she just wants to breed you nonstop sighhh i want her so bad - 🦁

omg hi pookie, welcome back. i also agree, and i hope it's ok that i made dehya a lion hybrid in this :3

𝖉𝖊𝖍𝖞𝖆 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖙

dom!lioness dehya x sub!fem reader

warnings: smut (mdni), wlw content, breeding kink, strap usage (cum-filled...), reader in 'kitty' outfit, lioness!dehya in heat, size difference, cunnilingus + fingering, tail-plug insertion

you stand in the mirror, assessing your body and fiddling with the delicate lace lingerie.

is this too much? archons, you feel silly all dolled up like this. would she even like it? would it make her feel strange? she isn't a housecat, after all, she is a lioness.

you smooth your shaky hands down your exposed sides, adjusting the light blue fabric of the bra, followed by the elegant little collar, the bell softly chiming, finishing with fluffing up your soft kitty ear headband.

"this... is ridiculous." you sigh, though you're startled from your thoughts by a knock at the bedroom door.

"are you in there, sweetheart?" dehya asks through the door. you can hear how sultry her voice is, despite the exhaustion from her long day.

"yes!" you squeak quickly, holding the bell to prevent it from making noise as you rush to the door, hand hesitating over the knob.

the moment you open the door, she's on you, pulling you in before you can register her touch. "are you purposefully trying to tempt me?" she grunts into your hair, feeling you shiver.

"you...like it?"

she pulls away, guiding your chin up to meet her gaze, seeing her eyes dilate when she looks at you. "you have no idea how much i want you." she mumbles, leaning down to capture your lips.

her tongue is slightly rough (thank her lioness genes) as it rubs over yours, coaxing out pathetic little mewls and whines from you. she backs you into the bedroom, kicking the door shut with a harsh slam before pressing you up against the wall.

she lifts you, like you weigh nothing at all, continuing to kiss you fervently, stealing your breath right from the source.

her lips trail down your neck, sharp fangs teasing your skin, lapping over the tender flesh with her roughened tongue. "may i have you?" she grunts. "please?"

she sounds so sweet, despite how clearly she is restraining herself, claws digging into your skin. "yes." you answer breathlessly, gasping when she lifts you, tossing you onto the bed.

she leans up, looming over you. there's something different in the way she looks at you, with those cute little ears on your head. she bites her lip, her cunt grinding against your ass as if she could breed you herself.

"a kitty..." she comments, stroking your cheek, gentle compared to her rutting against you. "such a pretty girl."

"there... are other um... gifts for you." her fluffy ears perk up at your soft words, letting you sit up.

you crawl across the bed, digging through the drawer to retrieve two boxes. "one, i guess i need help with. the other, you'll know what to do with."

she tears open the first box, seeing a fluffy white tail matching the ears, connected to a shiny plug meant to fit snugly into you. her heart races at the thought of seeing you with both the tail and ears, how you really would look like such a good little kitty under her.

"i haven't tried to put it in yet, so-"

"i'll handle it." she interrupts, ripping into the second box. this one has her shakily exhaling as she removes the bottle.

it's for the strap you had gotten her for her birthday; the fillable one.

this new bottle was supposed to mimic thicker cum, something that would stick, so to speak.

she looks up at you, her pupils nearly expanding to the size of her eyes. "this is- i..." she stumbles, shaking her head in disbelief and awe.

she drops both gifts onto the bed, attacking you with nips and kisses all the way down your body. she doesn't bother removing your panties, merely sliding them to the side to lap messily at your pussy.

you mewl beneath her, thighs squeezing her head as she indulges in you, nose pressed to your clit while her tongue wiggles its way into you. she groans, moving more eagerly tonight.

her fingers join in eventually, her tongue instead overstimulating your clit while her newly dulled nails rub your g-spot. she watches your every reaction, eyes narrowing at your little breaths and whimpers.

she wants to please you; her pretty little mate. she wants to prepare you well, to give you plenty of little kits with her. she wants to fill you up, to watch it bulge in your stomach and leak out of you.

after two orgasms have been coaxed out of you, she is more than eager to have you, positioning you perfectly on all fours. she gently pushes your back into a divine arch, peeling your panties down your thighs, using lube to slide around your other hole.

"is this okay?" she asks, though her breathing is labored. she's desperate to see it in you.

you nod into the blankets, looking back at her with such a pathetic little expression. "please... yes... want-"

she eases her fingers in first, carefully stretching you out. she takes her time, humping the bed while she does so. once she thinks you're ready, the plug slides in. she goes extra slow, letting you get accustomed to it until it sits perfectly in you.

she eyes the tail with interest, how it moves when you do. she moans softly, a shaky gasp as she holds your hips still.

she flings her clothes off, tearing your panties completely off, spreading your thighs for her to have a good look at you while she fills and puts on the strap. "you're beautiful..." she murmurs, sliding the strap up and down your soaked cunt, gathering your slick on her tip.

she slides in, feeling you squeeze around her, tighter than usual with the plug occupying your other hole and she grunts, nearly poking holes in your hips as she fucks you open.

the tail bounces, swinging with each thrust, only serving to egg her on more along with your pretty moans. the bell on your collar jingles so cutely, and her hand finds itself wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you clench around her.

she grows feral, fucking you with a purpose, rough enough to leave bruises as she treats you like a toy beneath her. you're so fragile, so delicate, but for now, you're her mate. you can take what she gives you.

her thrusts are angled deliberately into your g-spot, enjoying your melodic whimpers. "good girl, fuck-" she grunts, slamming into you, yanking you back against her like a little doll until you cum for her.

you cry out her name, clawing at the bedsheets while your kitty ears go lopsided. she fucks you right through it, pushing the limits until she can make you cum around her cock again.

"dehya- dehya- please!" you practically sob. "fill me!" you wail, like a real kitty in heat.

she shakes, fucking you harder until she finally decides it's time.

it does feel thicker, filling every part of you as you moan softly, twitching on the bed while she shoves herself as deep as she can go in you.

she licks over all the bites and clawmarks she's left, like a dutiful mate should, gently taking care of you, watching traces of the cum leak out around the cock stuffed in you.

"you look perfect. full of me. you'll take my kits well, sweetheart." she kisses your shoulders, gently easing out of you and watching the cum flood out. "but we can't have it all leaking out." she bites your shoulder, delighting in your yelp as she rips your bra off, shoving you into the bed while she prepares herself to fuck you yet again.

[daisynik7]

“Meet Me Halfway” by Black Eyed Peas - fluff for Jean Kirstein please i BEG i love this song so bad

Meet Me Halfway

Can you meet me halfway? Right at the borderline is where I’m gonna wait for you.

Pairing: Jean Kirstein x reader (gn)

Word Count: ~2.1k

cw: red string of fate/soulmates trope, canon universe, canon divergent, spoilers up to Season 4, fluff

Summary: Jean’s red string of fate was loose ever since he was born. It seems like everyone but himself has found their soulmate here on Paradis. It’s only when the scouts finally head towards the sea that his string becomes a little less slack. Could it be that his fated partner is on the other side in Marley, behind enemy lines?

Author’s Note: Hi anon! Thanks for the request for the y2k karaoke party! I’ve been fascinated by the red string of fate/soulmates trope for a while now, so I wanted to try my hand at it here! This is just a little taste of this, maybe I’ll expand on this story in the future. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thanks for reading! Divider credits to @/saradika.

The first time they ever see the ocean, they’re speechless, neither of them speaking to one another, taking in the breathtaking view. Cerulean blue shimmers throughout the entire expanse, nearly a mirror image of the clear sky above. It took them a few days to get here and Jean was beginning to doubt just how great this thing called “the sea” could be. He never expected anything like this, though. As if the picturesque scene before him isn’t enough to get his heart racing, for the first time in his entire sixteen years of living, the red string tied around his wrist, only for him to see and feel, finally tightened just the slightest. 

The lore behind the red string of fate is no secret among those living in Paradis. Each child is born with it cinched around their wrist; the other end supposedly tied to their soulmate. Jean’s has been slack since he can remember. That is, until now. While it isn’t as taut as some of his other friends, like Mikasa with Eren and now Armin with Annie, only he can tell the difference. It’s been a running joke since they found out the truth about the other side. Connie teases him and Sasha about it constantly. “Maybe your soulmates are in Marley? How does it feel to be bounded to our enemy?”

Sasha, like Jean, has never felt any differences in her rope throughout her lifetime. He turns to face her, pointing to his wrist, curious if she feels the same. Her jaw is dropped, and when she notices him signaling to her, she closes it, gulping loudly, slowly nodding. 

When they all dismount their horses to explore the water, Jean momentarily forgets about it, focusing only on how cold the ocean feels on his feet, how salty is tastes on his tongue, how incredibly far it reaches, surely farther than his eyes can see. It’s only after their skin starts to wrinkle that they retreat, sitting on the warm sand instead, watching the waves crash onto the shore. He nudges Sasha. “So, you felt it too, right?”

“Yeah, I did,” she answers, hesitant. She caresses her wrist in her other hand, biting her lip.

Connie butts in. “Felt what?”

“Our strings. They’re a little less loose now that we’re here.”

He smirks. “I told you! Your soulmates are on the other side!”

Jean leans back against his hands, groaning. “I don’t want my soulmate to be on the other side. The other side has been trying to kill us for hundreds of years! This is so messed up.”

Sasha hugs her knees, pouting. “I agree. This sucks.”

Connie pats her shoulder. “Hey, you don’t have to marry your soulmate, you know. Plenty of people don’t! My parents weren’t soulmates, and they turned out just fine.”

“But you’re planning on marrying Hannah, aren’t you? Once this is all over?” Hannah is a childhood friend from Connie’s hometown, and the two have been in much more contact recently. 

He chuckles. “I mean, not right now. But yeah, maybe in the future…”

“So your argument makes no sense!”

“This is different though! If your soulmate really is in Marley, I think the universe will forgive you for not marrying our enemy.”

Jean groans again, staring at the glistening ocean in front of him, shaking his head. “I just can’t believe they’re really out there and not here.” 

There isn’t much they can do for now, considering they have no means to get to Marley with the current resources they have. Jean buries it in the back of his mind, trying not to think about it while they spend the next month building a base near the shore. They anticipate a Marleyan ship to arrive soon, scoping the island before implementing their attack to capture Eren, the Founding Titan. What the other side doesn’t anticipate is Paradis being prepared to ambush them to carry out their own plan in infiltrating Marley. The first one arrives when they expect it. With Eren’s Titan abilities protecting the rest of them, they manage to capture the ship easily, taking those on-board hostage for questioning. Sasha, who is usually uninterested when it comes to matters not involving food, is surprisingly invested. She watches carefully from outside the tent, waiting for them to be released from their interrogation. Jean accompanies her, unclear about her intentions until she explains to him. “My string, Jean. It’s tight. My soulmate is in there.”

They haven’t talked about it since, both choosing to ignore it for the time being. Jean’s is still as slack as the first day they arrived here, and if he’s being honest to himself, it’s crosses his mind nearly every day. A small part of him wishes he was experiencing what Sasha currently is.

Eventually, a young man with brown eyes and blonde hair steps out, looking terrified. He glances at his wrist, then his surroundings, landing his gaze on Sasha’s, who’s peeking from behind a box. She gasps loudly upon eye contact, kneeling down to hide completely. Jean does the same, not before noticing the man make a similar expression, surely curious.

Sasha doesn’t say anything more about it, though Jean can tell she’s intrigued. A few days later, like fate, the man who they find out is named Niccolo, starts working at the port as a chef. Sasha is smitten as soon as she takes a bite of his food, and from then on, the two are inseparable. Jean can’t help but feel jealous. 

With all of his friends acquainted with their soulmates, Jean is growing more and more impatient by the day. It takes over two years for Paradis to organize their first trip to Marley and he’s among the first to volunteer, not only to help the scout’s reconnaissance of enemy soil, but for his own ulterior motive to finally find his soulmate. He doesn’t disclose this to anyone, though he’s certain that his best friends have a hunch. 

When they finally arrive to Marley, it’s stimulation overload. They attempt to stick together as soon as they step foot off the ship, though it’s difficult when there are so many new and exciting things to try. It’s especially hard for Jean when he notices his string getting more and more taut with each step he takes deeper into the city. 

They all decide to split up momentarily to explore, agreeing to meet back at the port in an hour. Jean and Connie follow Sasha through the crowded streets. She’s being led by her noise and eyes, searching for the tastiest, most delectable looking treats to try upon Niccolo’s instructions. “You have to try ice cream!” he told her days before they departed and it hasn’t left Sasha’s mind since. She sneaks glances at the small note he gave her, trying to match the words he wrote to the storefronts. “There! I see it! An ice cream parlor!” She rushes towards a colorful shop, pushing her face towards the glass window, drooling. Connie drags her towards the entrance, which dings as they walk through. Jean increases his pace to catch up and the string around his wrist is tight now. He scans his surroundings, trying to see what direction the little rope is pointing to. As he follows his friends inside the shop, it’s unbelievable taut now, and he’s certain that his soulmate is inside this ice cream parlor. His heart races, simultaneously terrified and excited to meet you. 

~~~

A little over two years ago, you notice the string around your wrist feels heavier on you than usual. You’re often teased about your soulmate being an “island devil” on Paradis, considering you’re the only Eldian left in Liberio without a one. In all honestly, it doesn’t bother you, the idea of your destined partner being on the other side. Even if they are an “island devil”, you’d still like to meet them. After all, you’re soulmates for a reason, right?

You spend several minutes each day sitting at the port, staring out towards the sea, wondering what they are like. You ignore the propaganda that’s been spewed at you since birth and instead fantasize about what their interests are. Do they like the same things that you do? What do you have in common, besides the rope that ties you together? How much taller or shorter are they, what color hair do they have? Do their eyes twinkle with kindness the way you picture they do? Will their smile be as charming as you imagine it? You dream about this for over two years, slowly letting the fantasy fade into the back of your mind before you lose your sanity. It’s easy to obsess over something, but it’s hard to get out of it once it consumes you. There’s no guarantee that you’ll ever meet them at this rate, so you go about your life as usual, distracting yourself from any romanticized ideas of your uncertain love story.

Today, you’re behind the counter of the ice cream parlor you work at. You started working here several months ago, hoping to be near the port in case one day, they arrive. The past few days, you convince yourself it’s just your imagination, the gradual tightening of the string. This morning, it’s tauter than it’s ever been before, and you’re certain you’re not making this up anymore; they’re here, they’re actually here. 

There isn’t time to go looking for them yourself, so you begin your shift, itching for the hours to pass quickly so that you can leave to begin your search. Fortunately, you don’t have to. Two people around your age enter the shop first, behaving oddly. They’re dressed normally, though something about them piques your interest. It’s especially alarming at how stiff the string is now, so you inspect each of their wrists carefully, dejected when you don’t see a match. The girl presses her nose to the glass, ogling at the ice cream displayed in the freezer, drooling. Her friend, a boy with a shaved head, tugs her off, apologizing with a nervous chuckle. “Sorry about her. She gets a little crazy when she sees something she wants.”

You smile at them. “No need to apologize. Our ice cream is the best in town, so her reaction is understandable. What would you like?”

The girl blurts out, “Everything!” 

“Sasha! We don’t have enough money for everything!” 

She pouts, eyes flitting across each flavor. “But they all look so good! How am I supposed to decide which one to pick?!”

Feeling generous, you offer, “I can do a sampler platter, if you’d like.”

Sasha’s face brightens. “Really?! You’d do that? How much would that cost? Connie, how much do we have?!”

You wave them off, beaming at them. “It’s on the house. Consider it some good old Marley hospitality.”

They gawk at you, shocked, and it only makes you giggle louder. You retrieve one of your larger bowls and ready your scooper, starting at one end of the freezer. The bell on the front door rings, but you’re too busy to greet the new customer directly. “I’ll be with you in just a moment!” 

It’s only now that you realize how stiff the string is, practically quivering now from being pulled so tight. You look up and see a young man staring at you, holding his wrist up with the same red string coiled around him, an uneasy grin on his face. “Hello.”

You almost drop the scooper into the carton, astonished to have finally found him. “Hi,” you say, heat rushing into your cheeks, taken aback at how handsome he is. “Um, let me just finish this.”

“Jean, you’re distracting our new friend here! She’s giving us all this ice cream for free!” Sasha exclaims, salivating over the bowl overflowing with ice cream now. 

He smiles at you, running his fingers in his hair. “Sorry. Please, continue.”

It takes you a few seconds to refocus back on your task. Eventually, you scoop all twelve flavors into a bowl, handing it off to Sasha and Connie, who dig in immediately as soon as they sit down. You pass a spoon to Jean. “Would you like to try? Before your friends finish it off?”

He laughs, grabbing it. “I guess I should, right?”

“Or I could scoop your own if you’d like. Which one do you want to try?”

He studies each carton carefully, pointing at your favorite flavor by coincidence. “This one is calling out to me for some reason.”

Your heart beats quicker, amazed by this serendipity. “That’s my favorite,” you admit, getting him a scoop.

“I had a feeling it would be,” he replies, beaming.

[pettyprocrastination]

whoever this beloved anon was I am so touched by your kindness! You definitely didn’t have to do this but I am so happy you enjoy this idea and I will happily expand upon it for you!

this is just a collection of word vomit bullet points for the time being but I will happily answer any and all questions about this pair!!

warnings: violence, angst, child death (Sarah Miller), foul language, the same warnings that apply to tlou, reader is Sarah's mom and described as having similar features to her. 

So the general Idea is that you and Joel are happily married before the outbreak. 

You had been Sarah's mother, his high school sweetheart he got pregnant when neither of you were old enough to have any reaction to the pregnancy test other than a fucking panic attack in one another’s arms. but you made it work 

you both worked but made time for one another and your sweet girl, going to museums every other weekend and joel insisting on swooping you off for a date every now and then 

nothing special. He knows you’re more of a diner gal than anything too fancy that makes you both feel out of place. 

On his birthday in 2003, you had planned to tell him that you were pregnant again. But the memories of your own fears of motherhood from all those years ago begin to swirl through your head again and you get cold feel. deciding to tell him the morning after

it is his birthday afterall, you want to focus on him. 

but when you’re woken up in the middle of the night because tommy needs to get bailed out, Joel kisses you sweetly one last time before promising he’ll be back and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is happening. 

its you that shakes sarah awake that night. shouting at her to put on her shoes when she’s still rubbing the sleep from her eyes because you’ve been listening to the radio for the past two hours, calling joel again and again and again praying for him to fucking pick up but to no avail. 

Sarah, bless your little girl’s bleeding heart is the one who insists you check on the adler’s against your better suspicions and when you find the eldest looming over her daughter, blood and sinew dripping from her mouth, you grab your daughter hand and burst into a full sprint until something slams into your back and sends you tumbling onto their front lawn

its how joel finds you, struggling to keep the once sweet old woman, whose now nothing more than dead eyes and gnashing teeth straining to snap at your pulse point as you push against her while sarah shrieks before your husband runs forward and cracks her skull with a wrench. 

there’s hardly a moment of pause, just enough for him to pull you up and into his arms before he’s ushering you both into the car with an urgency. 

when the truck crashes, you get separated from them. Perhaps at Tommy’s side when the flames rise and create a wall, separating you from your husband, or maybe pulled into the mob of chaos when trying to escape from those already infected-

all joel knows is that you promise you’ll find him: just get sarah to safety and you’ll meet him at the river

Poor thing is already so frightened, held in her father’s arms with tears streaming down her face insisting they can’t leave you they just can’t but her father kisses her forehead and reassures her its going to be okay 

“we just need to be brave, okay babygirl? Your mama’s real tough, she’s gonna be alright.” 

he isn’t sure if he’s saying it to his daughter or himself. 

but when he comes to the river you aren’t there. Only a soldier who points a gun at the scared little girl in his arms and then he loses everything

its when the light is gone from his daughter’s eyes that he realizes. His voice cracked and raw from sobbing that he looks around to see his brother with drawn in shoulders and tears in his eyes but his wife is nowhere to be found. 

Tommy says you got lost in the chaos. Everything was so loud, so sudden that he turned around and suddenly you weren’t there. 

Joel wants to go back but its Tommy that stops him, that dulls the red in his vision to a sad faded pink because his brother points at the orange horizon not too far from them, so much of the city is already in flames. 

“We’re gonna find her, but not there.” 

So Joel searches. for the first year spent in the world post-outbreak its all he did. 

He became a smuggler because of it. 

Information came at a price and he needed to be able to fucking pay it, whether it be in blood or ration cards. He was willing to do anything to find you or any thin thread that lead your way. 

But it’s Tommy that asks him to give up. Not in those words of course. 

The youngest Miller knows better than to say something so cruel that would make his brother, the only person he has in this world turn on him. 

But his voice is worried when he asks him one night in Boston when he hasn’t even had the chance to wash the blood from his knuckles 

“You think she would have wanted this for you?” 

the fight that followed his words was brutal. Vicious insults and scarred fists slamming against each brother until they're both too tired and bloody to continue. Each leaning against a wall for support and Tommy’s wavering voice breaking the silence. 

“I don’t know where she is, Joel. But I do know you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lookin’ for her.” 

All he can do is nod. 

It’s a few days later when he meets Tess. Who has heard plenty of stories about the elder miller’s brutality and wants him to put that muscle to good use for some extra profit. 

It begins his new life. One that empty and cold but one he can live. 

Until of course, Ellie comes along. The sweet and incredibly opinionated girl that makes him become something akin to the man he thought died twenty years ago. 

its when he’s traveling with Ellie, that it happens. When a warm familiarity has settled between the two because so much blood and pain has been shared he can’t help but see her as something close, something bright even though all he can force himself to utter in her reference is “cargo” 

when theyre traveling through the woods as Ellie chatters away, probing his memory about a movie that may or may not have existed thirty years ago because her descriptions of the plot are incredibly odd he hears a voice shout for them to stop and finds himself staring at a man- no, a boy- pointing a gun at them. 

Ellie stills, but Joel can see enough to know that from the lanky figure and dimpled face that he’s young. Maybe twenty, twenty-two at the oldest, but his eyes dart from Joel to Ellie with a pinprick of fear that allows Joel the time to charge forward and slam him to the ground before wrestling the gun from his hands. 

He has enough to time to tuck it under the stranger’s chin before he hears the sound of the safety being turned off and finds himself looking up and seeing a gun just inches from his face. 

Joel’s head whips around when Ellie’s voice calls out his name in fear, he turns to see another stranger holding her a gun point, shoulders drawn back and a shadow cast over their face by the had obstructing their identity. 

“You hurt one of mine, I hurt one of yours. That a fair deal?” 

Its takes him a moment to recognize you. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice, the sweet tease when you would poke at him each time he woke up late despite the fact that you reminded him to set his alarm the night before, the times you’d chide him with a harsh “Joel Miller!” whispered in public anytime he was able to grab you a bit too passionately to be appropriate in public but the laughter in your voice let him know you were never truly mad at him. You didn’t know how to be. 

But that sweetness is buried under a cold rasp that cuts through the air as you point a rifle at the scared little girl in front of you.

“You think I won’t?” You’re older now, skin covered in scars from a life he didn’t know you got the chance to live and your eyes are cold as they regard your husband. “Put the gun down and get the fuck off of him, I won’t repeat myself.” 

Joel mumbles your name in awe. The woman he loved, the woman he mourned the one he fought so hard to find stands before him like some sort of hallucination and suddenly the world feels like its spinning until you bark orders at him again. 

“You’ve got five seconds Joel, make a fucking choice before I make it for you.” 

He looks down and realizes the boy under him, the one with the bleeding nose and snarling face has your eyes and his dimples. 

“One.” 

The one above him has Sarah’s hair. Soft brown curls that shine under the sun. 

“Two”

Wait. No, they both do.

“Three.” 

Twins. Jesus fucking Christ you had twins. 

“Four.” 

Joel holds the rifle up above his head and the one boy standing snatches it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground and kicking it far from his reach. He slowly stands, allowing your son- dear god your son- to scramble to his feet. 

Your voice softens just for a moment. “You okay, Duke?” 

Blood stains the bottom half of his face from where Joel slammed his fist into the boy’s nose just moments before, but he nods nonetheless. 

Now, they both stand on one side of you and he can see the resemblance clear as day the same way he would whenever Sarah was by your side.

When you order him to hand over his bag, he does so without question before telling Ellie to do the same. 

She watches him with wide eyes, her hands still up in the air but gaping at her companion as if he had grown a second head. 

“Joel!” “Just do it, alright?”

He doesn’t miss the way you watch their interaction with narrowed eyes until she tosses her bag to you and you slowly lower your gun. 

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ at my home?” 

[maimingaffairs]

Hey, could I please request something for Aleksander x femReader where the Reader is a Star Summoner? He and Reader have been friends since they where children and have walked the earth together since then. They always thought that the love they have for the other is just friendship, but boy where they wrong...Their friendship takes a hit during the whole Alina in the Little Palace time...Reader knows about the plan to expand the fold and is all for it, she just really doesnt like Alina....Anyway, during the events on the skiff when Alina runs, Reader and Aleksander get separated and believe the other to be dead...They go on to free Grisha on their own. After some time they meet and in the heat of the moment he kisses her...They finaly confess their feelings...After that they go on to win the war...After they win they get crowned King and Queen and bring peace to Ravka, but expecialy to the Grisha...

this was another 3am write, i yet again apologize for that. also, i apologize for how long it took for me to finish this. i have been in Tennessee all weekend seeing taylor swift... anyways... anon thank u so much for this beautiful req. i hope that it is to your liking

warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of blood

word count: 8.2k

Are There Still Beautiful Things? (aleksander morozova x fem!reader)

-

“One more time, please?”

“You’ve said that four times, Aleksander.”

“And I’ll say it four more if I must. It’s beautiful.”

You looked over at your best friend and gave him a little smile and rolled your eyes. 

“Your mother is not going to be happy when you don’t get inside.” You remarked and then nodded at his hands once. 

The two of you laid underneath a large tree just outside of his home, just as you did almost every other night. You’d been best friends with the boy ever since the two of you were little children, and now here the the two of you were, barely fourteen, and you were still yet to be rid of that childlike wonder. 

“I don’t really care. She won’t get mad, she likes you enough.” He insisted and reached out to gently grab your hand, “One more time, I swear this is the last one. Please?”

You looked into his dark, round eyes and you nodded once, conceding under his pleading stare. 

“Okay.  One more time.” You giggled and squeezed his hand once. 

The two of you intertwined your fingers and Aleksander raised his free hand to conjure a thin sheet of shadows just above your heads as you looked up at the space around you. 

The stars and the moon above your heads disappeared behind the shadows he conjured and you reached up to drag your fingertips through the inky darkness above your heads. Finally, you flexed your hands and clasped them together for just a moment before you opened your palms up towards the shadows, sending little glittering shards of soft white light up into the shadows. Aleksander marveled at the sight for a while, and you turned your head to marvel at him.

Sometimes when you did this, the two of you would spend hours making up your own constellations and galaxies within the self-made stars and sky that you’d both created. This wasn’t one of those times, though. The dark haired boy next to you leaned over and placed a little kiss on your cheek before he reached up and shooed away the shadows he’d created. 

“Okay, I said it was the last time and I meant it. See?” He teased 

You giggled and nodded, watching as he pushed himself up off of the ground and held his hands out for you to take. 

“Let’s go inside, yeah? My mother will likely beat me with a stick for not coming in an hour ago.” He said and gave you that charming smile that you had come to love so much over the years. 

“Okay.” You answered softly and reached up to take his hands. 

-

Aleksander’s hands clasped around yours tightly as he swung himself down off of his tall horse and he gave you a small, soft smile. He leaned down to press a hello kiss to your cheekbone and then let go of your hands, and you lowered them back to your sides. 

“Well, I see that the Little Palace is still intact and hasn’t been burned to the ground yet, so I assume my time away wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.” 

His voice soothed you more than just the sight of him and you let out a relieved sigh, straightening out your kefta. 

“It was bad. For me, at least. I had no one to bother. Stop running off.” You replied, earning a lazy smile from him. 

Aleksander shook his head with a quiet whisper of a laugh and he turned around. In his last letter to you, he raved about how he’d found the Sun Summoner at long last. 

The girl perched upon his horse must have been her. 

She was pretty, despite her state. Days of riding had put her hair into tangles and there was dirt caked underneath her fingernails and smudged across her cheeks. Aleksander helped the slender girl off of his horse and he motioned towards you once she was securely on her feet. 

“Miss Starkov, this is y/n. Star Summoner and my right hand.” 

Her eyes traveled over you, up and down a few times. The ghost of a disdainful look crossed her face and then she gave you a curt nod. 

“Lovely to make your acquaintance.” She replied briskly and gave you one more look up and down before she clasped her hands behind her back. 

You eyed her cautiously in return and then gave her a small hum. 

“Likewise, Miss Starkov.” You replied in the same clipped tone. 

The girl watched you as if you were a current threat to her and you slowly shifted your gaze to Aleksander who was looking over his shoulder at Ivan. You cleared your throat, effectively capturing his attention and he turned back to the two of you and then nodded towards the palace. 

“Meet me in my chambers, would you, y/n?” He asked and you gave him a nod. 

Alina didn’t even give you a second glance, turning her head up to face somewhere between Aleksander and the doors to the palace. You blinked a few times, taken aback by her coldness and you slowly moved away from the two of them. You bunched the skirt of your dress up in one hand and made your way back inside the palace, greeting a few of the Grisha that had gathered around the entrance, wanting to catch a glimpse of the Sun Summoner. You shouldered your way inside and made a beeline for Aleksander’s chambers, letting out a little huff. 

“You’re in an awful hurry.” A voice called out behind you and you turned around with a relieved smile when you saw Baghra. 

You stopped walking and waited for the older woman to make her way to you and she gently hooked her arm with yours and let out a sigh. 

“So, this is it.” She said simply and walked with you as you continued down the hall, now going at a pace she could easily maintain. 

“I suppose so,” you mused and then you let out a tiny scoff, “I would’ve thought she’d at least be a bit more… pleasant.” You stated and glanced over at her. 

She shrugged a bony shoulder and she drummed her thin fingers against your arm. 

“Well, from what I understand, this is all new to her. Imagine finding out one day into your adult life that you are the Sun Summoner, prophesied for centuries. I’m sure she’s a bit apprehensive, my dear girl.” Baghra reasoned and then gave you a tired smile. 

“Perhaps. Where are you headed this afternoon?” You asked softly and led her through the winding halls to Aleksander’s chambers. 

You had known Baghra since you were only four years old, and she had always been nothing but kind to you, taking you in eventually once you grew older. Your parents never were fond of you being Grisha. She was often viewed as bitter and harsh by others, but you had nothing but admiration and love for Aleksander’s mother. 

“I came to seek you out. I figured you’d either be outside with my son or you’d be headed to his quarters. Seems I was correct.”

She usually was. 

“Oh? Is there anything I can do for you?” You asked her softly and she simply patted your arm before speaking. 

“Just make sure he doesn’t make poor choices. Please. You’ve always been his voice of reason. He cares for you like you would never imagine.” She hummed and then looked up at you. 

You gazed down at the woman and then gave her a small smile in return, giving her arm an affectionate squeeze with your own. 

“Well, I care for him like he could never imagine so I suppose it works out, doesn’t it?” You asked and then leaned down to place a kiss on her cheek. 

“I care for you, too, you know. You are the child I never birthed. I am thankful for you. He needs you. You remind him to be polite and kind, and he reminds you to utilize your power and your cleverness.” She said with a little sigh. 

When you two approached the doors to Aleksander’s chambers, you pushed them open for her and she let go of your arm and wandered inside and you followed behind her, closing the doors behind you. 

“I must know, and you need to tell me the truth, darling. Does my son have ulterior motives with the Sun Summoner?” She asked and turned around slowly to face you. 

You met her eyes and then shook your head before you gave her a shrug as well.

“Not that he’s told me of. I mean, we don’t discuss the Sun Summoner often. And when we have it’s always been hypothetical. This is the first time we’ve been faced with a reality with her in it.” You explained. 

Lie. You lied. 

You knew very well what Aleksander planned to do with The Fold. You felt a bit of shame as you lied to Baghra, but you swallowed it down like dry bread and kept your eyes on hers. 

“Time will tell I suppose. It was lovely to see you, y/n. Come and see me for tea tomorrow afternoon if you can sneak away from Aleksander. I know he doesn’t much like to share you.” 

You watched as she walked to the far side of the room and pressed her fingers against a wall panel and it slid open. 

“I’ll cross my fingers that I see you tomorrow. Until then, behave.” She said with an affectionate smile and you gave her a little wave as she disappeared into the wall. 

You stood in the middle of Aleksander’s war room for a while before you took your kefta off and laid it against the large table in the middle of the room and you wandered into his bedroom. You let out a long sigh as you walked towards his bed, and as soon as you were close enough, you tossed yourself backwards onto it. 

You wondered where Aleksander was and realized he must be busy with the Sun Summoner. 

The Sun Summoner. Your stomach turned a bit and you sneered to nothing in particular. You could already see where this was heading. He had to devote time to her, you knew that. But you weren’t excited to share his attention. After all, you’d been the main recipient of it for the last five hundred years. You stared up at the ceiling and a little pit began to form in your stomach at the thought of Aleksander giving his attention to her and you shook your head, trying to clear the thought from your mind, pushing it down as far as it could go. 

He devoted time and attention to his army, to other Grisha, to his mother, the royal family… the list could go on. So why was this different? 

You feared you knew the answer and you shoved it out of your mind as fast as the thought could take form, but the feeling lingered nonetheless. 

It was different because you had feelings for Aleksander.

-

“Oh, Saint’s sake, Zoya! I asked you to be gentle today!” You called to the Squaller. 

She looked over at you after she had yet again, knocked down one of the trainees cruelly in combat and she gave you a shrug. 

“They aren’t going to get the option of gentleness in a real combat situation, Miss y/l/n!” She called back at you with a grin. 

It had been nearly a month since Alina had arrived at the Little Palace, and Aleksander was adamant that you oversaw her training. You stood off to the side with your hands clasped behind your back, watching all the trainees carefully. You oversaw almost all of the combat training these days, as you were quite skilled in combat. You glanced out over the small group of new Grisha and you pointed at Alina, beckoning her forward. 

“Alina, darling. Why don’t you go next? I’ve seen you beat Zoya before.” You suggested and the girl eyed you discontentedly. 

She slowly stepped forward and then folded her arms over her chest. She looked Zoya up and down before she turned her head and looked at you, her eyes narrowing just slightly. 

“I don’t appreciate how you’re singling me out. It’s a bit eerie how obsessed with me you seem to be.” She called out to you. 

Your eyebrows shot up challengingly and you stared her down, daring her to say another word.  When she didn’t, you spoke. 

“Obsessed with you? Please, don’t flatter yourself, Miss Starkov. Nearly everyone has taken their turn today, and now it is yours.” You replied coolly. 

Zoya shifted awkwardly where she stood and then she glanced up at you. You gave her a little nod and then waved your hand once. 

“If there are no more interruptions, let’s start.” You instructed and lowered your hands down to your sides, flexing them frustratedly. 

“I’m not going to.” Alina said sharply. 

You folded your arms across your chest and watched her amusedly. 

“And you think your belligerence is going to get you anywhere? You need a reality check, Starkov.” You remarked and watched as she rolled her eyes at you. 

“The Darkling wouldn’t-“ 

“The Darkling wouldn’t appreciate the way you’re speaking to his second in command. So spar or don’t, but either way you will walk yourself down to his chambers and tell him yourself just how you spoke to me and how you refused to be compliant with your trainers.” You stated and watched as she shook her head. 

She muttered something out from under her breath and then she spun on her heel and turned in the opposite direction and walked haughtily away from you and the rest of the Grisha. 

You watched as she marched off and then turned towards the trainees that were gathered around you. 

“You are all dismissed for today. I have some business I should attend to.” You said in a flat tone and didn’t wait a second longer before you made the brief walk from the training yard to Aleksander’s chambers inside of the Little Palace. 

You didn’t bother knocking on his doors and you flung them open, marching inside of his war room with a frown across your lips. Your eyes fell upon him as he leaned over his war table and you walked up to his side, allowing the door to shut behind you. 

“You are displeased.” He remarked without even looking up at you. 

“What gave it away?” You huffed, leaning your waist up against the edge of the table. 

“You didn’t announce yourself. And you’re stomping.” He slowly turned his head up towards you. 

You stared into his dark eyes and then sighed. You leaned over to rest your head against his shoulder and you frowned. 

“Your Sun Summoner is not a very kind person. I’m tired of her disrespect towards me.” You mumbled and you felt Aleksander chuckle. 

You stood up straight just as he did and you shook your head. 

“What’s funny about that? I’m very serious.” You stated and folded your arms over your chest. 

“I’m sure she doesn’t mean to disrespect you. She’s probably just a bit homesick.  She’s tired of being here. Don’t take it personally.” He advised and then reached over to rub your arm reassuringly. 

You gaped at him and knitted your brows together. 

“Don’t take it personally? If I had complained about anyone else disrespecting me, you would’ve seen to their swift punishment. Why is it different when it’s her?” You asked incredulously, a little pang of sadness resonating through your stomach, up through your chest. 

“It’s not different. I just… don’t know what you want me to do.” He said exhaustedly and then he rubbed his face and stared down at you. 

“I want you to put an end to it! I am your second in command. Your best friend. I have known you since you were a child, Aleksander! I expect you to stand up for me!” You exclaimed and threw your hands up in the air. 

Aleksander bitterly let out a laugh and he shook his head once. 

“Please. You sound ridiculous. I think that you’re jealous.” He remarked and folded his arms across his lean chest. 

“Jealous? Excuse me?” You sputtered and then gave him a nasty look, “Of Alina? What planet do you live on, Aleksander? I could end her with the flick of my wrist.” You countered angrily. 

“You could not. We both know she’s more powerful than you. You seem to detest that. Trust me, I’ve wished for you to be as powerful as her many times before.” He snapped coldly and you blinked at him a few times. 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew they couldn’t be taken back. The look of shock on your face slowly turned to sadness and then shame and your eyes filled with hot tears. You looked down at the floor and your chin wobbled a few times before you looked back up at him. You squared your shoulders and sniffled back your tears, looking at him sadly. 

He felt as if you’d taken his heart out and crushed it in your fingers just from the look in your eyes alone and he opened his mouth to apologize. 

He hadn’t meant a word he’d just spoken to you. Your powers had always been the most beautiful things in the world to him. 

You cut him off before he could even speak. 

“She will never stay by your side like me. Her power may be greater than mine, but her devotion and love for you is not. That is the one thing you’ll never find again, Aleksander.” You said in a harsh tone, barely above a whisper. 

He reached out for your arm but you recoiled backwards as if he was lightning and you shook your head, “Don’t touch me. Don’t speak to me. Don’t think of me. Just leave me alone.” You hissed and then turned around and stormed out of his room. 

And for the first time in a long time, as soon as you reached the security of your own room, you allowed yourself to cry.

-

It had been nearly a month since your fight with Aleksander, and you had avoided him successfully. At first, he tried to approach you. But you easily evaded his presence each time. You stopped overseeing training and did what you could to avoid Alina, too. You spent most of your time with Baghra now, and tonight was no different. 

It was the winter fete, and you had decided not to go. Aleksander had sent you an elegant invitation and a beautiful, grandiose black dress with pearly white embroidery of constellations and swirls of stars. You’d taken the box to his door and left it there without another word. 

You sat in a chair next to Baghra and she let out a soft sigh, passing you a little lap blanket as you sipped on the tea she had kindly made for you. 

You stared into her little fireplace and you turned to look at her to find that her eyes were already fixed on you. 

“I wish desperately that you were the Sun Summoner.” Baghra spoke softly and you frowned, setting your tea down on the little table next to you. 

“You and Aleksander both.” You said coldly and moved to rise from the chair you were in. 

She reached out and grabbed your wrist gently, shaking her head once. 

“No. Not like that. I wish that it would’ve been you. You are the only one who sees him for who he is. The only person that can see past  The Darkling and instead see Aleksander.” She said with a small frown. 

You sunk back into the chair and held your hand over your face, a frown etching itself onto your lips. 

“It wouldn’t make a difference. I’m not enough for him regardless.” You said slowly and spread the little blanket that she had handed you out over your lap.

The old woman simply shrugged and let out a dejected sigh, leaning her chin against her hand.

“May I ask you a question? I need your honesty.” 

You glanced up at her and you hesitantly nodded once. You leaned forward a bit in your chair, curious to hear what she had to ask.

“You know him best. He tells you everything. So tell me- truthfully- what are my son’s intentions with the Sun Summoner? Does he really mean to vanquish The Fold?”

You eyed Baghra with a slight frown and then you leaned back in your chair, folding your arms across your chest.

“I think if you are asking me again, you already know the answer.” 

The room around the two of you was silent, save for the crackling of her fireplace. You met her eyes and she stared back at you with something between disappointment and fear.

“You lied the first time I asked.”

“Yes.�� 

Her mouth twisted a bit but she didn’t say anything else for a moment and she instead looked in your eyes with intent.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly and shifted your eyes down to your lap.

“I don’t fault you, child. I know that you’d do anything for Aleksander. I realize the power he holds over you.”

You didn’t even argue. Normally you’d protest him having any kind of hold over you, but you knew he did. You knew it very well. It affected almost everything you ever did.

“It’s the same power he holds over the Sun Summoner. It’s easy to seduce someone and bend them to your will when you’ve had five hundred years to practice manipulation.” Baghra noted, likely mostly to herself.

You furrowed your brow and looked up at her questioningly.

“Seducing? Who? Alina?” You asked, not liking the tone that you took on when her name fell from your lips. It was bitter, envious.

"Who else? She sneaks around at night, in and out of his chambers. It's easy for him. She's naive and he's charming, easily the prettiest boy that's ever shown her attention."

You listened to Baghra sadly and you turned your head away from facing her, your nose burning and your eyes growing hot with little pinpricks of tears. Finally, you turned your head back towards her and she frowned deeply.

"You love him."

"Of course I do, he's-"

"No. I know you love him. What I mean, is that you have fallen in love with my son." She remarked.

You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth. She wasn't wrong. You weren't even sure when it had happened, it could have been any time within the last four hundred years.

Baghra reached over and laid her bony hand on your wrist and you closed your eyes, sniffling quietly, keeping your tears at bay.

"I always preferred you over Luda, anyway." She said sweetly, her attempt at lightening the mood.

You let out a sad laugh and then shook your head once.

"Aleksander will always prefer a powerful woman." You said quietly and then you opened your eyes to look at the woman's face.

"You are powerful. You are very powerful. you’re capable of things no one presently on this earth has seen. Things only perhaps Morozova knew of." She said slowly and then gave you a little frown, "You just accept what you’re presently capable of as all you can do because you don't mind being second to Aleksander." 

You knew she was right again. There was no use in justifying yourself to her. She would always be right. 

"I'm going to tell Alina to leave this place tonight, and I think you should do the same thing. Nothing good will ever come of the path my son is choosing to walk." 

You didn't feel like speaking, didn't feel like arguing. Though you would have stayed through all of his wicked plans, it was clear to you that all you had become to him was a burden. Aleksander and you had been in fights before, it was only natural to do so when you had known someone for that long. But this time had been completely different. He had never once taken a dig at you. An unrelenting sadness ensnared you entirely and you wrapped your arms around yourself tightly. 

You couldn't help but wish they were his arms instead of your own.

A pair of arms did wind themselves around your shoulders and you looked up to see Baghra had risen from her chair and come to stand in front of you. You leaned into her embrace and you rested your face against her arm, reveling in the small bit of comfort she offered in the sea of your distress,

"I love you, y/n. As if you were my very own child. You deserve more than this and truthfully, you always have. Go. Please. For me. Get out of Os Alta, get away from Aleksander, give yourself the chance to be happy. To be everything you need to be for you."

Her words had fresh tears springing to your eyes and you allowed a few of them to fall onto the fabric of her robes. You brought your arms up to her torso and you clung to her like a small child.

"I love you, too." You whimpered and allowed her to soothe you by running her hand over your head and shushing you.

"Please do this one thing for yourself. You have spent four centuries giving everything you have to Aleksander. Run. Promise me you will run."

You squeezed your eyes shut and didn't move or speak for a long time. Running away from Aleksander meant that you could never come back to him. He'd condemn you forever. But staying meant that every single time you saw him would be a reminder of how you weren't enough for him.

Baghra was right. You needed to do something for yourself and yourself alone.

So you nodded one and held her tighter.

"I promise."

-

 The cold fingers of an icy rain fell through your hair and down  underneath your clothes, leaving trails of chills over your skin. The wet sloshing of water that gathered in the grass was loud under your feet and you tried to be as quiet as possible while you approached the little prison camp made especially for Grisha. You slowly crept around trees and stayed hidden for moments at a time behind the especially big ones until you were close to the tree line. You could see a few lanterns up ahead, and around it stood a few First Army soldiers. 

This camp was smaller than the last one that you'd come across, with only three cages. Easy.

You took a deep breath and forced yourself out of the cover of trees and you walked across the muddy clearing in silence. Rain soaked through your clothes and left your hair in strings around your face and made the mud under your feet squelch. You looked up at the sky to find it empty. It must have been a new moon. Either that or the clouds hid the stars and the moon from your vision. The darkness around you seemed to take shape and you found yourself checking your periphery for anyone. You had to remind yourself that you wouldn't see him in these shadows. He was dead. He died in The Fold. It was all you heard for weeks as you passed from town to town all over Ravka. The Darkling was dead and the Sun Summoner was presumed to be the same, though most people had their doubts about that. 

Ever since you had ran away from Os Alta, you always felt like you had to check over your shoulders and into your periphery, in fear of him finding you. It wasn't that you feared him. You just didn't want to know how he reacted to you leaving, didn't want to know what he would say to you. Truthfully, guilt ate you alive everyday since you had left, but you had to keep telling yourself it was for the best. Aleksander found you to be a burden, and he had Alina now, anyway. What did he need you for?

You continued to trudge through the muddy field, and one of the soldiers must have caught sight of you because he called for the others and pointed at you frantically. You continued to approach nonetheless and they raised their guns at you, all three standing in various places around the lanterns, which sat in what looked to be an old fire pit.

"Don't come any closer! Hands behind your head, get on your knees!" One of them commanded loudly. 

You didn't obey, in fact, you picked up the pace of your steps a bit more and approached them.

The first shot that went off missed you by many feet, but the next came much closer. The third shot one of them fired off was aimed much better. You swept your arm out in front of you and deflected the shot with your kefta. You could hear them all begin to load their guns again and you finally reached them. 

You reached out with a white hot light burning beneath your skin and you grabbed one of their throats and yanked him forward. He let out a loud, agonized scream, and the skin under your hand began to burn and sizzle beneath your touch. You tossed him aside and walked towards the next man. The barrel of his long gun stopped you as he pressed it against your stomach, and in the dim firelight, you could see him sneer at you.

"Ah, it's you. The Darkling's right hand." He spat and you eyed him.

You gave him a little smile and then you grabbed the barrel of his gun and you clicked your tongue.

"I am no one's right hand." You hummed and leaned closer to him as you reached up for his throat, your hand beginning to glow with the hot light of the stars.

Something blunt and hard made rough contact with the back of your head and you stumbled backwards, colliding into someone's chest with your back. You groaned and glanced behind you at the third soldier and you cursed yourself for not subduing all three faster as he dropped the gun that he had just hit you with. His hands quickly encircled your wrists and he held them apart with a steel-like grip. You struggled against him and let out an angry yell.

"You will die for your actions against the Grisha. At my hand!" You hissed and sent a backwards kick into his knee.

The soldier crumpled a bit, but he didn't release you, and you were soon faced with the point of a sharp dagger, digging into your throat, held by the other soldier that stood in front of you.

"Lock her with the others." he commanded, but neither of them made a move to lock you away.

The one holding your wrists from behind cleared his throat and squeezed your wrists tightly, his nails pressing into your skin.

"If she was really General Kirigan's right hand woman, then she is obviously powerful. We need to execute her immediately." He stated and you thrashed savagely against his grip. 

"Stop moving or I will put this dagger through your windpipe!" The one holding the blade threatened and you slowly stopped moving and eyed him dangerously.

"You won't. You would have by now if you were going to." You said gruffly and he burrowed just the tip of the dagger into your skin.

"Try me, witch." He breathed.

You prepared yourself to slam your head into his and you watched his face when tendrils of shadow began to reach around his head from behind. You watched him in shock and curiosity as the tendrils covered his face and nose, and by the time he realized he was being smothered with tangible darkness, it was too late, he was already being yanked backwards. He struggled against the shadows and the other soldier yanked you backwards and pushed you down to your knees hard.

"What are you doing to him, witch?" He asked angrily and sent a kick into your side.

You gasped when his boot made contact with your rib and you crumpled onto the wet grass, rain still falling steadily. You were completely soaked with rain by now and you looked up at him as he raised his foot once more to kick you again and you covered your face with your arms protectively. Suddenly, there was a sharp, distant sounding clap, and the blow never came. 

Instead there was silence in the clearing other than the whispers and groans of the three locked away Grisha and you moved your arms away from your face. The soldier above you wobbled on his feet and then his head rolled off of his neck and smacked against your ankle. You let out a bloodcurdling scream and kicked it away from you before you put your hand in something warm. You looked down at the ground behind your back and you gasped to see the other soldier, headless as well, and your hand was in a rapidly growing puddle of his blood against the already wet grass. You heard heavy footsteps and looked up fearfully. The creature that stood in front of you was two times the size of a regular man and shaped like a disfigured and fluid-like human. It was so dark that it made the moonless night around you seem sunny and you began to back away from it, still on the ground. It lunged forward at you and you screamed loudly and protectively raised your arms again. 

You felt nothing but a cool burst of air against your skin and you let out a little whimper and looked up, moving your arms away from your face. You were met with two legs clad in black and your eyes traveled up the darkly clad form in front of you, a lump forming in your throat, realization washing over you, the feeling even colder than the icy rain that pierced through your clothes.

You closed your eyes, not wanting your eyes to finish their journey upwards. Your lips tugged down into a deep frown and you let out a shaky breath.

"You- you’re dead. You died."

There was silence and you opened your eyes again, and let out a startled shriek. 

You were met with the scarred face of your closest friend as he knelt in front of you. Rain had plastered his normally immaculate hair onto his forehead and the sides of his face and the back of his neck. He had thin, black scars that traveled across the length of his face and there was a new hardness about him. His eyes seemed even darker than they had previously and he reached out and grabbed your chin.

You gasped when you felt his cold, wet fingers against your chin and your lip quivered as you looked into his eyes, confused and scared.

"I live. I live and breathe before you. I should have let those soldiers kill you, traitor." He hissed and you stared up at him fearfully.

You shook violently and you weren't sure if it was because of the rain, fear, or a combination of both. You shakily reached up and wrapped your hand around his wrist as he kept his hand on your chin. 

"T-traitor? N-no! I didn't betray you!" You shouted and opened your mouth to speak again, but he cut you off recklessly.

"You left me! You abandoned me without a single word!" He bellowed and tightened his grip on your chin.

"You didn't need me anymore!" You cried, "you had Alina! She's more powerful than me, anyway! Why would you need me?" You asked, your face wet with cold rain and hot tears.

"Come on, we are not having this discus-"

"You even told me she was more powerful than I!" You exclaimed.

"Y/n, you abandoned me. Abandoned your duties at the Little Palace." He growled and tightened his grip on your chin even more.

Pain shot through your chin and your jaw and you let out a little cry, your eyes squeezing shut as you winced.

"Aleksander, you’re hurting me." You whispered in a trembling voice.

You knew he wouldn't really hurt you, but he had never been rough with you like this before and he was scaring you. Everything from the tone of his voice to the newfound deep blackness in his eyes was scaring you. Haunting you.

His grip on your chin very slowly loosened more and more until he let go entirely, and you let out a little sigh of relief before a loud sob tore itself free from your chest. You wrapped your arms around your cold, shaking shoulders and you pulled your knees up to your chin. Rain pelted the back of your head as you leaned your face down against your knees and you shivered, your teeth chattering violently.

"Get up. Come on." He said firmly through the rain.

You shook your head and held your eyes closed.

"Y/n, sweetheart, please get up. You are going to freeze out here. Look at you; you’re shivering." His tone was not warm, but it wasn't cold either. It was vacant mostly, save for the tiny bit of concern that crept into his words towards the end of his sentence. 

You shook your head again and you sniffled loudly. There was a soft shuffling sound above you for a second before you felt two arms wrap themselves around your body and before you could protest, Aleksander was lifting you up into his arms. He wasn't a single drop drier than you were, yet he felt warmer; more comfortable. You didn't make a move to grab onto him as he held you, but you allowed him to gently coax your head down against his chest. His cold, wet kefta pressed against your freezing cheeks and it made you shiver just once, your head shaking before you finally relaxed against him. Everything about him was almost the same, but there was a new, ragged edge to him. To his breath, his movements, his voice, even the way he smelled. You shivered again at the thought of him being rougher around the edges after whatever it was he'd gone through and you pressed your lips together to prevent another sob. "You are cruel. You are a cruel woman. How dare you leave my side? For five hundred years you have been faithful to me. How could you?" He asked. His voice was no longer empty; it was full of sorrow. 

You shook your head as it laid upon the side of his chest and you let out a shaking sigh.

"Why would I have stayed? I was reminded every single day that I wasn't enough for you. You let Alina disrespect me, you called me crazy and jealous when I asked you to put an end to it. You told me she was more powerful than me, Aleksansder! You told me you wished I was more powerful! Why would I have stayed?" You repeated and lifted your head away from his chest to look up at him.

Raindrops streaked down his face and fell from his lashes, down over his lips and off of the tip of his nose. He looked glorious in the minimal light of the nighttime with his hair unkempt and wet as it hung in his ink-like eyes and he shook his head as he looked down at you. 

"I didn't mean it. Not a single word of it." He said ashamedly, almost shouting over the rain.

"I am your best friend! I love you! I would do anything for you," you began and then you reached up and covered your face with your hands, "and yet, you casted me aside as soon as you got a shiny new toy. I know. She's the Sun Summoner. She will save the world. I can make pretty stars with my fingers and can only swear loyalty to you. I can't expand your Shadow Fold, I can’t do the things she can do!" You cried and moved your hands away from your face to look into his eyes once more.

Emotions swirled within his deep brown eyes and he tightened his arms around your body as he held you against his chest as if you were no larger than a small child.

"You just need to let me go." You said tearfully and bit your bottom lip sharply, "Let me go and we can go our separate ways, and then you can get back to your plans, you can find your precious little Saint." You exclaimed miserably.

The way he stared down at you was unlike any other way he'd ever looked at you before. He stared at you much like a devout follower would stare at their deity and his jaw flexed a few times, the skin over it pulled taut against the bone.

"Don't you see? I needn't search for my precious little Saint any longer." He remarked quietly, his tone reverent. 

"And why is that?" You asked sadly.

No warning could have ever truly prepared you for the way his lips fell upon yours. He kissed you with a sadness that you could feel all the way in the center of your chest, and after the initial shock wore off, you kissed him back, your eyes falling shut. His lips moved against yours resolutely and you reached up with a cold, rain slick hand to hold the side of his scarred face. His sadness melted into something a bit softer and more inviting, and the moment you thought you could put a name to the feeling, he was pulling his lips away from yours. He laid his forehead down against your own and he closed his eyes.

“I do not need to search for my precious little Saint any longer because she is here, in my arms as we speak.” He whispered. 

You felt all the color drain from your already pallid face and you looked up into his eyes.

“What do you even mean?” You asked exasperatedly and you let your hand fall away from his cheek. 

“I mean… You. You are my precious little Saint. You are my closest and dearest friend, and you are the love of my life. Did you know that?” He asked softly and then nudged the tip of his nose against yours. 

Your stomach dropped dramatically and you pulled your forehead away from his. You stared up at him with a shocked expression. 

There was absolutely no way.

You blinked a few times confusedly and then you laid your head back down against his chest and rested your hand over his heart, tapping your fingers against his kefta. 

“I am not.” You whispered and closed your eyes. 

“I’ll spend forever trying to convince you that you are, sweetheart. You’re mine. Don’t you see? You always have been. For five hundred years, you have been mine.” He murmured and pressed his lips against your ear as he spoke, “You are mine. No one else can have you. I’d kill whoever tried.” He breathed against the shell of your ear and it gave you goosebumps. You gathered the thick fabric of his lapels up in your fist and you shook your head a few times. 

“Deny it all you want, but I know you feel the same. I could feel it in your kiss, my sweet little star.” He mumbled and pressed a lingering kiss against your ear. 

Your mouth opened and closed stupidly and you let out a shaking breath.

“If I don’t deny it, you will one day shatter my heart.” You whispered and leaned closer to him.

The rain around you had slowed to a drizzle now and little beads of water were dripping from his hair down onto your cheeks as you laid on his chest. The very faint light of the stars behind the rain clouds in the night sky was enough for you to see the frown on his lips and he shook his head. 

“Never. I’ll never break your heart. Oh, it’s far too precious.” 

His words bounced back and forth in your head and you tugged his kefta gently, a particularly violent shiver ripping through your body. 

“Please, just take me somewhere warm. Somewhere safe. Somewhere with you.” You begged softly and hid your face against his wet clothes, “I’ll go wherever you go.”

He nodded once and gave you a little reassuring squeeze before he whispered something about home near your ear. The patter of the rain made it nearly impossible to make out entirely but what you did catch melted your heart. 

“… and it doesn’t matter where we go, because when I’m with you, it is home.” 

-

Little specks of rainbow light glimmered all over your bedroom, bouncing off of mirrors and glass to create even more little flecks of color throughout the room. The crystals on your dress sparked brilliantly as you stood in the window, watching the sun set. A deep purple horizon was settling over the land just beyond your windowpane and you let out a soft sigh. 

Your head was heavy with the weight of a brilliant crown, made of black metal and sharp, glimmering diamonds. Your silvery dress was tugged down with the weight of a thousand little crystals and you watched as their light refractions danced across your walls. You were a sight to see. 

Formidable, graceful, beautiful. 

You were a queen. 

Not just a queen. The Queen. 

Against all the odds, against every enemy, and against each and every opposer, Aleksander managed to take The Firebird as his own amplifier and he put an end to the incessant thorn in his side that was the Sun Summoner. 

His plan, no, both your plan and his had been entirely successful. For hundreds of years, Aleksander chased the crown. He waited patiently for it. Sat in the shadows, stalked, paced, and plotted for it. And it was finally his. The night he saved you from almost dying, he’d taken you to his sanctuary and promised you on both of his knees that he’d give you a crown and a love like you’d never known before and you’d never know again. 

He made good on both promises. 

The day had been eventful. After a long banquet in the morning, you’d been crowned queen in front of only Grisha while Aleksander was given the title of king. 

Aleksander Morozova. The Darkling King. 

His title made you shiver practically and you let out a soft sigh as you continued to watch the night sky swallow up the blue of the day with deep purples and pinks. 

It was over. It was all over. The war, the fighting, the conflict, all of it. Aleksander would now waste no time in stopping Grisha persecution all over Ravka and everything would be right in the world. 

“Is the Queen pleased with her view?” 

Two strong hands found their way around your waist and pulled you backwards. Your back was pressed up against Aleksander’s chest and you closed your eyes softly, leaning your head back against his shoulder. 

“Ah, very much so. Though, I think you’re the better view, my King.” You whispered. 

He swept all of your hair out of his way and lowered his lips down to the nape of your neck, trailing butterfly-wing-light kisses to your skin.  

“You flatter me.”

“Do you not deserve it?”

“Perhaps I do. But perhaps I don’t. If you find me worthy of flattery then I must be doing something right, angel.” He mumbled and dragged his lips around the side of your neck. 

“I find you worthy of all beautiful things.” You whispered and tipped your head to the side as he pressed his soft lips to your skin. 

“Ah, so I must be worthy of you.”

“Of course.” 

He hummed contently as he playfully nipped at your skin on your neck and he smiled into the side of your neck. 

“This country is ours now. Ours to have and ours to keep and ours to have, hold, and protect. How does that make you feel?” He asked softly and lifted his head away from your neck. He leaned his cheek against the side of your head and traced his fingers over your waist as he awaited your reply. 

It made you feel powerful. Strong. He made you feel that way. You loved him. You loved him more than words could possibly have ever said, and you were lucky that he loved you back. The Sun Summoner drew breath no longer, the former prince Nikolai sat in a cell underneath the Palace accused of treason, and Aleksander and you assumed the roles of the two most powerful Grisha to ever exist. You felt ecstatic.

You looked up at him and his eyes shifted down to yours and you gave him a little smile. 

“I’ll show you.”

And you stood up on your toes to reach him and you pressed a kiss to his lips. One of gratitude, one of happiness. 

One of five hundred years worth of love. 

[sgiandubh]

What do you think of the theme “we’re all adults here” starz is using

Dear Theme Anon,

That is a beautiful question and I think this is your lucky day: with a tropical night ahead (35C/ 95F - nope, that is not a bra size 😱🤣), we simply live at night, like Superman. So, while I am slowly cooking my famed (but tedious) Circassian chicken recipe for tomorrow night's semiformal dinner, it is with great pleasure that I am answering it.

Please excuse the length. I know what I am able to do when I really like a question and yours got me immediately interested. Thank you for that.

Funnily enough, I was just having a very enriching conversation this afternoon, with a very, very good friend, who is way more intelligent than I, so she has no desire to write any blogs on Tumblr. On the very same topic you raised, Anon. With her permission, I am going to sum up the gist of it (et merci encore à toi 😘😘).

Let's look at that pic again:

The Craigh Na Dun Fateful Dance of Love and Death is one of the most moving pivotal moments of the entire series. Tens of thousands of women have shamelessly cried all around the world, while watching this (haven't you? I know I have and did it with no grace whatsoever, but pinky promise: don't tell anyone else, please). And then watched and rewatched and rewatched to oblivion, with or without that Kleenex box and that Ben and Jerry icecream at the ready.

You know, it's exactly like Shakespeare writes in Romeo and Juliet's Prologue ( I hope I still remember it...): ' A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life'. Love and Death blended together is one of the most powerful narrative tropes that ever existed. So much so, that a guy named Denis de Rougemont even famously noticed that in French, a single letter separates l'Amour (Love) and la Mort (Death), with seminal implications for our Western World mentality, ever since the Middle Ages. For some mysterious reason, we seem to always be caught completely unguarded when exposed to such ultimate injustice.

Tragic magic. This is exactly what also made OL a cult series, irrespective of its (many) unjustified lengths, its (many) moments of uneven acting and its (many, way too many) bullshit pills thrown at an increasingly jaded and bitterly divided fandom. Life imitating Art was just an unexpected blessing and a curse, that much we shippers know, and I am not planning to dwell on it.

But how long can you continue to sell this product almost exclusively to women, all around the world, especially when you are faced with the prospect of a dragging/delayed merger & acquisition (never a good sign) and an increasingly dwindling number of subscribers (never a good sign, either)? I'd think not for too long, really, even if OL still is one of ***'s biggest success stories ever. How long can you pretend to sell a high-end content to 'premium women viewers', when you know very well that you chose to discard that famed 'female gaze', which turned the series' first season into an instant media phenomenon?

Riddle me that: how to sell this product for a profit and expand that fan base while, at the same time, trying not to lose your loyal hardcore viewership?

This is ***'s first answer - I bet this will be followed by some more things, but let's see what it might mean.

On that poster, the focus is still on The Mythical Couple. Selling that good old famed, surreal chemistry - remind those old fans of that moment they felt all those feels (awww....). At the same time, try and create a need out of thin air - 'you need more'. More of what? Sex? Violence? Sexual Violence? Intrigue? Politics? Political intrigue? Ethics? Dilemmas? Ethical dilemmas? All of the above? None of the above? Stupid poster won't tell, but hey: buy me and I'll speak. Buy. Subscribe. We'll think of a way to keep you hooked - at least for the next season and a half. After all, Season Eight is a study in freestyle. After all, we conveniently leaked the info that 'Erself wrote the finale's script (why risk GoT's epic #shitshow?), so all is fine and dandy.

On par with our Mythical Couple, we have that sword. Oversized. Symmetrically featured. Action, with an intelligent twist - that is a finely wrought blade, after all. Uh-oh: that spells a new, more inclusive target. Male audience. 25 to 75, to be more exact , because the only promise the poster makes is a sobering one: 'more than fairy tales'- color me surprised.

After all, 'we're all adults, here'. Key operating words: 'all' (more inclusivity) and 'adults' (not like in X-rated, but more like in 'serious shite').

Well, then. That would require narrative chutzpah and bold choices. That would require a faster paced script, less of those never-ending side stories and borderline neurodiverse focus on irrelevant details (I am still not done with that Fiery Cross and not even ashamed of it, at this point in time) that do plague The Books. And throw rotten tomatoes at me if you wish (I don't care), that would require the end of that horribly robotic directing - we all know what the hell that means.

Will they be able to keep that high-maintenance standard? One thing I am sure of: when you treat your fandom like shite and drag along endless spells of Droughtlander without as little as a bone thrown in for diversion for months in a row, you'd better hone that blade, darlings and go for a kill. Bring it on. Bring that addictive spice back, stat.

It is my humble understanding *** wishes to create an OL universe. Wanna bet the farm that somewhere in their cartons they do entertain the possibility of (at least) a second season of BOMB? S and C cameos could be a breeze to arrange, after all ( we consider this in theory - I happen to think it could be more complicated than that). The story could be duplicated to oblivion - is it way too outlandish to imagine a season devoted to Mandy and Jem's story through several timelines?

[zorrasucia]

"Just sleeping and fucking all day," I AM DEAD!!! and i revived just to BEG you to expand on this please i just love them so much 😭

I'm so glad you liked it, Anon! I came up with something but I'm like 90% sure it's not what you were asking for - I aimed to write more smut and it turned into saccharine fluff somehow. I apologize. Rest assured that the next update for this fic is business as usual, very spicy and contains Carmy finally ******* ****** :)

Teach Me Tonight - Deleted Scene 2.0

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Deleted Scene] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] Deleted Scene: [Part 8]

Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)

Rating: Mature (1k)

Tags: Set sometime after the opening of The Bear, Smut, Virgin!Carmy, Fluff, Miscommunication, Domesticity

"Hey, baby," Carmy mumbled with a smile, rolling over in bed and looking at you with sleepy eyes.

You had padded into the room and leaned over to kiss his neck, waking him up from his third nap of the day. In between, you had fucked - slow and loving, then quick and hard, then a mix of both. You felt tired in the best way - and still somehow you wanted him. But you could wait.

"Shhh. I'm not here for another round," you soothed, moving a lock of hair out of his face. "Got us some pizza," you settled across from him, laying the box between you.

He sat up and ogled you shamelessly. You were wearing jeans and one of his shirts, your nipples showing through the white fabric.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he shook his head and focused on the slice of pizza you handed him instead.

"I mean," you gestured at him, his naked torso and satisfied smirk, "likewise, Carm."

You shared a hungry look while taking a bite of pepperoni. He broke first, looking up at the ceiling, away from you.

"How's it feel?" he asked.

"Mmm?" you nudged his leg with your foot.

"You come like two, three times when I can only do one and be just useless..." he blushed, curiosity tinting his skin. "I was just wondering what that was like, if all women were like that."

You smiled. Sometimes you forgot that he was a virgin before you.

"A lot of women can, uh, come multiple times," you explained. "If it's done properly, if you work for it," you cleared your throat. "Some women can't come at all."

"That sounds, uh-" Carmy struggled.

"Miserable?" you supplied and he nodded. "It can be. But sex isn't always about coming, you know? It's about being close and getting to know each other."

Carmy hummed pensively.

Just now, between one round and the next you had fallen asleep still intertwined, spent, his arms around your waist and his softening cock inside you. It was nice, to be so close with zero expectations of it going anywhere.

"What've you learned about me? With sex, I mean," he asked, his blue eyes wide.

"That you're giving, uh, determined, a fast learner," you pondered for a minute while you chewed. "A bit of a control freak but we knew that from before," he chuckled. "And you think you don't deserve good shit, even though you do."

"Pretty spot on," he let out a shaky breath.

You caressed his calf over the bedsheets. It felt strange to be talking about this but it had been a fucking weird day, and discussing orgasms with Carmy while eating pizza fit right in.

"You're a great fuck, Carm," you said softly. "And that takes patience and care and- I love that you want to make me feel good. I do," his gaze was downward and you reached for his hand. "I just don't want you to think you need to be perfect for me here too, you know? There's no pressure."

Carmy nodded and his eyes met yours, he gave you a soft smile.

"Thanks," he brushed your knuckles with his thumb. Then his smile turned mischievous. "Just to be sure, you do like coming though?" he looked for confirmation, head tilted.

"Yeah," you laughed. "Obviously, yeah," you poked at his side and reached for another slice of pizza. "I'm just saying there's no pressure, okay?"

"Okay," he took a big bite of crust. "You didn't answer my question from before," he prompted, raising his eyebrows. "How does it feel?"

"Uh. Well, you don't know how good it's going to be until you're coming. Sometimes it slows down, becomes softer. Or you get halfway through the next and get stuck there," you shrugged. "Sometimes it builds up, becomes more intense each time-"

"Like the last one?" he asked.

You blushed - the memory of him on top of you, his chain dangling near your mouth, his hands holding your wrists above your head, taking up all your thoughts. He had fucked you through your first orgasm until you saw stars and your moans turned into cries of pleasure.

"Exactly like that," you replied bashfully like it wasn't you that had begged him to keep going and fuck you harder.

"How many have you done?" Carmy asked after a while.

"Huh?"

"How many times you've come in a row?" he repeated, that calculating look back on his face. "What's the max?"

"I don't know, five?" you laughed nervously. "I think you're getting the wrong message from this, Carm."

"No, I know," he shook his head. "I was guessing we could start with all that 'no pressure' thing tomorrow. And I think I still have one more round left in me today, so..."

"What the fuck, Carm?" you giggled.

You covered your face with your hands, hiding how flustered you were.

"I'm serious," he said, amusement still showing in his tone. You finally uncovered your face and looked at him. He was smiling but he wasn't joking. "I don't know how to be calm," he explained. "I don't know how to fucking relax and be normal. I never have. Being with you- That's the closest I've come to that," he said softly. You cupped his face tenderly. "But sometimes it gets so crazy that the only thing I know I can do well is make you feel good. That's why I can be a control freak and competitive and insane..."

You shushed him.

"You're fine, baby," you caressed Carmy's shoulders, scooting closer to him. "I love that you're all those things. I just- You push yourself to the limit. You can hurt yourself trying to make everything perfect," your thumb traced the edge of the dark circles around his eyes - all from early mornings and late nights at The Bear. "I don't want to be that for you - another weight, another thing that needs to be perfect."

"You're not," he whispered. "You've never been that, okay?"

"Okay," you sighed and surged forward to kiss him, his face between your palms.

Even after the kiss was over you stayed there, your forehead on his, and your noses touching.

"So," you said after a while, "how about we finish this," you pointed at the pizza, "and watch a movie?"

You had learned that watching a movie with Carmy was shorthand for a nap on the couch since he was always so fucking tired.

He chuckled against your mouth.

"I think I can manage that," he replied, guiding you by the hand to the living room.

~

[Part 8]

~

@th3h0nkz @faephoria @wadupppp

[etheries1015]

Dear writer whose writings I love,

HEYYO. IT'S ME AGAIN. (I sent the Lilia using u as a stress relief you ask heheheha!!)

SO LIKE IMAGINE THIS (unrequited love that is actually requited love!)

You're on a "date" with Lilia to the gardens. (You wish)

And then you get to the Gardina section of the flowers and show it to him, knowing fully of what it means. (You hope, yet also don't hope he gets what's you're trying to say)

[FUN FACT: Gardenias are elegant and fragrant flowers that have long been associated with love, romance, and admiration. They are often used to express a secret or hidden love, as their sweet scent and delicate petals can be seen as a symbol of devotion and affection that is not openly expressed. The gardenia’s white or pale yellow petals are said to represent the purity and sincerity of a love that is kept hidden, while the intoxicating fragrance symbolizes the passion and intensity of the feelings that are being concealed. Gardenias are also often associated with mystery and secrecy, making them the perfect flower to symbolize a love that is kept hidden from the rest of the world. They have been used in literature and poetry for centuries to represent the hidden desires and passions of characters who cannot express their feelings openly]

SO

SSSOOOOOOO

This can go SO. MANY. WAYS.

He doesn't know and does nothing. This ends up in you making a poem about Gardina flowers to him, and he does something after that, taking the hint. (Good ending! With proposal and stuff and hehe fluff!! I love fluff)

He knows and asks you directly. (PLS GIVE THIS A GOOD ENDING. IDK HOW TO CONTINUE)

My brain is now fried again. Please expand. I will request every time my brain power suddenly shoots up. Goodbye, and see you again next time.

-🦇

Hello lovely! Yes yes, you actually revealed yourself to me after I answered that ask! Heuheu. No need to be anon! However, if that it what you prefer, I shall not convince you otherwise <3

ANYWAYS I have ALWAYS loved the notion of flowers having meanings and their beautiful poems that come in toe with their vibrant petals. It's truly a wonderful thing, I really wanna study them more. Fun fact! My favorite flower is a peony! I have a tattoo on my shoulder of a peony! ...in slue with an entire sleeve of random flowers, my tattoo artist just made up. Maybe the other arm I'll use for more structural floral... sorry for the tangent DHKFJSLDjf I love flowers. Thank you for this ask heuehueheue

Ahhhhhhh the idea of going out to a garden with Lilia...

I actually like to have this little headcannon that since Malleus is so interested in flowers and gardening, that perhaps he got that from Lilia. Flowers are our friends, after all! And what's better than making an entire garden of little friends to nourish? Along with creating a beautiful garden of roses, Malleus had delved deep into the world of floral poetry and representation.

You grab onto Lilias hand and pull him towards the back of ramshackle to show off the garden you and Malleus had placed together. Malleus was truly your wing man during this entire thing, he had vast knowledge about flowers and knew just the ones to plant In one large romantic gesture for the old fae. Malleus had landed you books and helped you study their different meanings, even taking time out of gargoyle studies club to dedicate gardening your surprise for Lilia.

"What has gotten you so eager, little bat?" Lilia chuckled, "Must truly be grand if you're so worked up like this!" You couldn't hide your excitement or giddiness as you headed towards the gate leading to the garden, a large black intricately designed gate in that perfectly suited the chicness of the dorm. Upon opening the gates, it revealed a large grandiose garden full of flowers of all sorts. Lilia's eyes widened as well as a toothy grin climbing onto his features, raising an impressed eyebrow.

"So this is what you and Malleus have been working so hard on?" He inquired, stepping forward and taking a look around, "I must say, it's rather an impressive feat! The sheer size is almost enough to rival Malleus's own rose garden back at the castle." You smiled brightly at him and skipped over to a particular patch you were proud of; Gardenias.

"These are Gardenias!" You pursed your lips as you bent over and grabbed something you had prepped before hand, taking hold of a neatly wrapped bouquet of gardenias and with a trembling hand pushing them in the arms of the fae. Lilia started slightly and took a gentle sniff of the flowers taking in their creamy sweet scent that reminded him of coconuts and peach. "They...they're for you!" You smiled.

"Oh they're lovely," Lilia said, "I presume you and Malleus are particularly proud of these ones! They bloomed wonderfully. I shall put them in my room!...oh, but I suppose they will need sunlight. Perhaps keeping them in Silvers care may be better..." You felt your heart drop and smile twitch ever so slightly. Pursing your lips you let out a dry nervous chuckle, tilting your head in awkwardness.

"I..Uh," You bit down your bottom lip, "Well, they were for you," You let out a breathy laugh.

"Of course! However I'm worried they may wilt in my care and you worked so hard! Hmm. Oh! I could put them in the lounge, so that everyone can see yours and Malleus's hard work!" You couldn't even bother to explain to him you were the one to nurture these flowers on your own upon Malleu's recommendation. He swore that Lilia would understand the meaning...it was common for fae folk to be knowledgeable on the world of flowers. Either Malleus Lied to you, which was unlikely, or Lilia was a part of the percentage that truly hadn't a clue.

You began to sweat bullets. Throughout this entire exchange, you weren't certain he understood your intentions. Or... was he purposefully deflecting the fact you had mainly meant this as a surprise for him? Was he thinking you were simply making excuses to hang out with Malleus? Or was he just that oblivious? It was rather distressing, for you already had an inkling that Lilia had not returned your feelings, and this only solidified your worries.

You began to wilt like a flower without water, your energy dying and your smiles becoming fake. You tried a few more times to hand him flowers, such as a singular rose (symbolizing love at first sight, a "one and only" in which the person you gift you give your heart to.) He insisted on taking a few more to decorate the lounge with.

This plan was failing terribly.

Finally, you let out a loud groan of frustration, pulling out a sheet of paper from your pocket with a burst of confidence and embarrassment. Your face took on a bright shade of red, pushing the letter into his chest. Lilia struggled to catch it with his hands full of flowers, eyes wide in bewilderment at this sudden display you put on. He stared in shock and confusion, unable to get a word out before you bolted out of the garden and to the dorm.

"Read that later!" You cried out.

"W-wait- what is-" He attempted to catch your attention, yet you were already out of view, leaving the fae utterly confused standing in the middle of the garden with arms full of flowers.

You threw yourself onto your bed and grasped your pillow, curling into a ball and groaning into it.

"eh? What's up with you?" Grim asked, "And what's this piece of paper?"

You sat up in a rush with wide eyes, staring at a piece of paper that you seemingly dropped from your person. You grabbed hold of it and took a look. It was the second page of the letter you had given Lilia... and undeniably the most important part. The first page detailed the history of flowers and how they have significance to them

the second page was the meanings of the flowers and why you chose them for the fae.

It was your confession.

You had forgotten to hand it to him in your flustered state.

You screamed into the pillow.

~ At Diasomnia ~

Lilia sat in the dorm lounge, reading over the page you had given him.

"Hmm...I knew flowers had meanings, but this letter seems unfinished. This is simply prefacing the history of flowers and that they hold meaning with a simple poem at the end, but the definitions they mentioned would be on the second page seem to be missing..." Lilia rubbed his head in confusion turning the paper around to find some sort of indication of continuation, Malleus walking in on the fae. Malleus flashed a mischievous smile.

"How did the visit to the garden go?" He inquired, "You seem confused rather than elated as I thought you would be..did something go ary?" He pointed out. Lilia shrugged and looked back at the tall draconic fae, tilting his head.

"I thought it was going well, (y/n) even handed me a bunch of flowers to bring back, along with this letter..." Lilia took a gander at the vase full of Gardenias and glanced back down at the letter in which stated every flower has a significant meaning.

"Malleus, could you tell me what Gardenias mean? I believe (y/n) meant to explain it to me, but the second half of this letter is missing." Malleus raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you would know?" Malleus furrowed his eyebrows, grabbing hold of the letter and skimming through its contents.

"Of course not. I like flowers of course, but I never took the time to truly study them as you did. I haven't a clue about definitions and things of the sort." The color seemed to drain from Malleus's face at realizing his mistake, before making his way to the gardenias and gently touching a petal from its bloom. He took a deep breath before giving a detailed explanation of their meaning: Passion, love romance, secrecy... Malleus explained the flower was to express a secret love that the prefect held for Lilia. Something that clearly went way over the old man's head.

Lilias's jaw was dropped to the ground, before quickly disappearing in a fog of green smoke.

He had to get the other half of that letter.

[ndjournal]

How’s your dream going?

it’s been a while since i’ve heard about you!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Dearest anon, my dream is well and peaceful although I am indifferent to it either way now which is what makes it peaceful and effortless :)

I considered writing a post on my learnings but was a bit hesitant because it's just another version of an experience that's already been spoken/written about many times before and there's nothing particularly special about this one. However, since you've asked, I will share some things about my journey and what has helped me personally which might help other Vanessas/versions of me out there. Please only take what resonates, my journey is not a blueprint for all journeys however I have noticed some commonalities in truth seekers.

The biggest thing was quite literally giving up entirely. I actually wrote a post on giving up about 3 months ago when I was earlier into this 'journey' and I still agree of course with what I wrote however I would write it differently if I were to write it now (it would be a more expanded version); perhaps I will write a part 2 although this answer here can sort of be taken as a part 2. You see, this Vanessa's life was quite comfortable in general so when she started on the ND path, while she was very determined to "get it", I wasn't motivated or entirely willing to give her up. We spent a lot of time letting go of concepts and limitations (and that definitely helped later on so I'm not saying it's not helpful, do what resonates for you!) and Vanessa/the ego was becoming subtler and subtler but it was still something I held onto. There was still identification with not much motivation to give it up entirely - sure there had been desire and interest to 'materialize' things but when we gave that up too, there wasn't anything. I was still lost in Maya despite the dream not being all that captivating or enjoyable.

Then quite literally life circumstances all of a sudden threw some major curveballs and Vanessa was terrified despite all that she had learned - it felt like all knowledge had suddenly disappeared and she had absolutely nothing to hold onto. After trying various things and going round in circles trying to keep everything at bay, the only thing left that really resonated was to quite literally give up on everything - it felt like there was no other option for peace but to do so because she was so mentally exhausted and drained from caring about every single thing that it was so much more appealing to be nothing and no one, to just BE… oh just the thought of being nothing and no one was freeing.

4dbarbie's words here gave Vanessa a lot of strength and direction (although her answer there was for a new identity, I did not use it for that as it was exhausting to even think of a new identity. I just wanted to be nothing and no one, that was most peaceful)

Give UP: It is what it is and 'you' can't do anything about it. Just let it all happen, we all die one day and it's over anyway. Worrying, fearing, doubting, striving, searching, desiring - how tiring, you would much rather sleep a hundred years. No matter what, you can't force life to give you what you want. Allow everything its being and leave it alone. Expect nothing from your body or mind. Let them do whatever they want, cease caring. Literally dgaf, if life wants to beat you, just let it beat you. (Ever had a bully? They get bored when you stop reacting and they leave you alone. They may increase the strength of their punches at first, but so what? You're already getting bullied... you can do nothing about it but cease caring and let it happen.)

And also this from 4dbarbie helped me understand the indifference that I had to embody:

I did not fake a lack of disturbance, I just let things happen to 'me' painful or not, I did not try not to react, I just didn't get involved emotionally with what was going on because I was tired, completely, of both desiring and being scared. The emotions didn't interest me anymore, I became indifferent to whatever was happening, neutral. If 'I' got what I wanted, whatever, if I didn't whatever again. I didn't try to change anything, the events just passed without leaving a 'footprint', all the bad/unwanted things had no reverberations anymore, it was like they never existed. Then there comes the idea of: what if they never actually did? And you fiddle and play with that a little. It's just play because you don't really care anymore, it's a real feeling of being unaffected, it's not manufactured because you aren't trying to get anything, not even 'realization', you want nothing anymore. This detached feeling, of needing nothing - it brings a lot of power, try to at least reach that and worry about the rest later.

She knew she had to stop trying to fight life but she was afraid of what would happen if she did stop trying. Eventually she got exhausted and had nothing left. Then no longer wanting/searching/trying to make happen any particular outcome or caring anymore, just pure indifference being in the present moment with no conditions/labels/problems is what gave her peace and then things just starting to ease up on their own. Things even happening on their own with just a random thought without any particular input.

I realized all the practices that Vanessa did before the curveballs had a 'doing' intention, a 'purpose' behind them (quieting the mind, self-realization, dropping beliefs etc) while afterwards, the same 'practices' were engaged again but with the intention of just being with no labels, no agenda, just being nothing and no one and this made all the difference - when you are no longer doing anything - you are not the doer/body/ego/mind; you're just being with no identification and no longer care about anything. And the indifference here is not forced or pretend like she used to have before as a defense mechanism, its genuine true indifference and full acceptance of everything (see the second 4dbarbie excerpt above - understanding and experiencing this subtle difference will help a lot).

The reality only comes when you give up yourself, when you give up your ego, when you give up your needs, your wants, trying to make something happen, desires, when you give up trying to become self-realized, when you just give up. - Robert Adams

Life is just a giant mirror of your Self. When you stop fighting it, it will stop too. But you have to be the one to initiate it. It takes courage and faith for sure to take that leap.

It has no choice but to die. What you take to be reality is the same, take away your identification and it soon ceases to be. - 4dbarbie

It can be easy to get lost in the dream again if you get caught up in the 'materialization' aspect - it's all still a dream even if forms change. Lester also talked about this in No Attachments, No Aversions:

I knew these things were not to be latched on to. I knew that if I got interested in them, I'd stop progressing. I had seen by this time that this world is a mentation - a dream. So to get interested in the dream again through interest in powers would trap me back into what I was wanting to get out of. - Lester Levenson

Also remember these things happen on their own, it's not the ego that's doing any of this and Self doesn't 'do' - Self is just effortlessly being. There's no 'doing' involved. If there's effort, it's ego as Lester said.

Now when I read my past blog posts or read Lester or Robert, there's an entirely new level of understanding and resonance with their words from before. This excerpt from Silence of the Hearts speaks more on what I was experiencing as well.

Let go of everything. Do not hold on. Stand naked before God, without any crutches, without anything to hold on to. There comes a time in everyone’s life when they have to stand naked before God. By standing naked I mean no scripture, no fancy words, no preconceived ideas, no spiritual intellectual knowledge. - Robert Adams

Perhaps without those curveballs, Vanessa would have continued to live in the illusion like an NPC in a Sims game until something like that happened to her and forced her to completely give up on everything and stand naked before God (her Self).

A day will come when you will long for the ending of the dream with all your heart and mind, and be willing to pay any price; the price will be dispassion and detachment and the loss of interest in the dream itself. Once you have seen that you are dreaming, you shall wake up. - Nisargadatta Maharaj

Now I know all happens by itself and I am just witness to it all. To all Vanessas out there, I know you got this. Follow your heart and trust in what resonates! And remember not to compare yourself to others, we are all One. Everything will be okay 💜💜💜

[ovaryacted]

HI haii saw your post abt the subby leon in re2 having a mommy kink and i was thinking abt how id!leon would deny the fact that he has a mommy kink for you— he accidentally calls you ‘mommy’ throughout his orgasm😭😭😭 and when you ask abt it he just denies it or pretends like he didnt hear you nd you tease him about it and deny his orgasm till he admits he just called you mommy UHM hope ygwim - 🥯

MDNI/18+. NSFW. | wc: 1.5k words

Hey bagel anon! I didn’t even know there was a bagel emoji but welcome to the club. This idea though, yeah…you ate with this one. I also don’t how my answer got so long, but you’re one of the lucky few to get a full response out of me. I hope you like this cause I had fun writing this out. I may or may not expand on this in a full fic, but we’ll see.

ID! Leon gives me those vibes that he’ll accidentally gaslight himself and you if he lets the mommy word slip out and you ask him about it. He’s not rude when he does it, but his anxiety kicks in if he’s questioned about something he thinks you’ll reject him for.

-

You were too damn hot around him, clenching with every piston of his hips against you. He didn’t relent, gripping you with force and fucking you into the mattress. Reason left his mind a long time ago, slipping past the crevices of desire and melting away as your legs kept him caged between them.

He couldn’t think straight, groaning when his aching cock began to pulsate inside you, knowing he was about to reach his end. Your fingers pulled his hair back so you could take in his features, admiring how his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his nose scrunched up, strong forearms shaking when he struggled to keep himself upright above you.

An intense orgasm is all he needs to accidentally slip out the word Mommy, deep and guttural from his chest the moment he fills you up to the brim. Your release followed soon after, whimpering at the feel of his cum spilling into you as deep as he would go. He panted against your chest, offering you a kiss on the shoulder from the comedown.

You heard him, and he knows you heard him. But he wasn’t going to be the one to address it first, better yet he wasn’t going to address it at all. He paid it no mind, giving you light kisses on your neck and jaw before soft snores filled the bedroom, leaving the inevitable confrontation for another day.

Waking up in an empty bed, you head into the bathroom to freshen up before finding Leon in his usual place in the kitchen. He was busy drinking some coffee as he cooked breakfast, his hair still sticking up on the top of his head in a disheveled mess. His ears perked up at the sound of your footsteps, accepting your gentle kiss and going back to flipping his eggs. You let him be for a while, choosing to enjoy the silence and refusing to ruin it with questions and unwanted probing. Once you both sat down at the kitchen island, that’s when you took your chance.

“Leon…is there something you’re hiding from me?”, you started the conversation off with a question, hoping it would open up the floor for him to answer.

“No, I have nothing to hide. Besides, you’d probably know if I was”, he said with a shrug, taking a bite out of some toast and looking at you closely. If you couldn’t already tell, he was reading you, waiting for what you were going to say next.

“You called me something last night. You said Mommy and I heard you, you know I did”, your eyes challenged his, the tension in the room growing and his body stiffened ever so slightly. He tried to downplay it, but you knew it was a front.

“I didn’t say that, you misheard me sweetheart”, he throws in a term of endearment and a light chuckle to hide the truth, and from his body language, he wasn’t going to be receptive to your curiosity.

“Leon, it’s okay. I’m not j-”

“Let me refill your coffee”, he didn’t let you finish your sentence, taking your mug and walking over to the counter, fixing your drink the way you liked. You got the message after that, just to drop the topic entirely and pretend it never happened.

Only it continued to haunt you after that night. The word that fell from his lips replayed over and over in your mind, so much to the point that it was starting to give you a damn headache. He wasn’t going to admit the truth, you knew that, so you used the only tactic you thought would work. Rejection.

Folding the fresh laundry, you felt Leon press himself against you from behind, his nose rubbing against the back of your neck. You paid him no mind, refusing to give him the attention he craved, the same way you’ve been withholding that intimacy going on two weeks now.

“Are you mad at me or something?”, he asks behind you, growing antsy from the lack of reciprocation he’s been getting from you. You were still you, still did the things he loved and enjoyed. But for some reason, sex was just off the table and he didn’t know why.

“No, I’m not mad at you”, the least you could do was reassure him that there wasn’t something deliberately wrong in your relationship. Still, that wasn’t enough.

“Then why are you ignoring me? It feels like I did something to upset you”, he sounded like a child, whining from how you refused to touch him the way he wanted. You turned around and sighed, meeting his begging eyes and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Leon, you haven’t been honest with me recently, you know that”, you observed the way his eyebrow raised, silently asking you what you meant. “Mommy Leon? You should’ve just told me you had a mommy kink”

“I don’t have one…”, he mutters, still in denial and beating himself up knowing he let the damn word slip.

“Don’t lie to me”, your tone of voice was more forceful, and as much as Leon tried to think with his brain, all of the blood flowing through his body was rushing down south. You stepped closer to him, hearing his sudden intake of breath at your proximity.

“Just tell me the truth baby, that’s all you need to do”, you were toying with him, that he knew, and a part of him was conflicted in not knowing what was the best approach. For the first time, Leon couldn’t read you, couldn’t get your angle or predict any possible outcomes.

All those years of learning how to read situations proved futile when it came to you.

“I don’t…don’t know what you’re talking about…”, his voice was shaky now, his heart pounding the closer you got. You placed a hand on his firm chest, caressing him before trailing your fingers down his abdomen and towards his hips.

“You do know. Be a good boy for mommy and tell me what you want”

He didn’t know what had gotten into you, hell you didn’t either. Over the past few weeks you’ve been avoiding him and not fucking him, you’ve found yourself scrolling through porn sites in incognito mode. You called it “conducting research”, typing in mommy kink, and going through a whole rabbit hole to learn more about femdom and the works. Watching so many videos with appealing and borderline strange titles at times changed the way you thought about sex, at least with your boyfriend.

You weren’t expecting to like it so much, didn’t know that finding the idea of making him submit like that would make your panties wet. Going so long without his touch only made you want this to play out even more, so you raised the stakes. Coming closer to him, you cupped the growing bulge in his pants, rubbing over it and grinning as you felt him twitch.

“Don’t be shy baby, you can tell me. You want to play with mommy?” Leon whimpered, the sound making you wetter than before. Leon’s eyes met yours again, a faint blush on his cheeks and growing more aroused with every passing second.

“Yes…”, he mumbled his response, fighting to close his eyes but you held his chin up with the tip of your finger.

“Yes what?”, you were ordering him, reveling in the way Leon’s resolve crumbled right in front of you, accepting his defeat.

“Yes mommy. Fuck, I wanna play so bad”, he was already so pliable, bending to your will and pleading for more. You gave him a light kiss, pulling away before you could indulge him further. He grew harder under your palm, the material of his jeans rubbing into him so deliciously it made his head fuzzy.

“C’mon baby, you gotta make up for keeping your little secret from me. Mommy’s not happy”, you pulled him forward by one of his belt loops, guiding him towards the bedroom already knowing you’re both in for a fun afternoon. If Leon didn’t have heart eyes before, he certainly had them now.

“Anything for you mommy”

[yandere-wishes]

Could you do hcs or one shots that expands on the dune yandere headcanons. Like how do they pursue the reader, how does the reader react, do they try to run (and if so, what happens). I feel like Paul in particular would be interesting given the Lisan al Gahib worship making him too powerful to actually run from

OMG, Anon are you like psychic or something?? Cause I was working on this exact thing last night!!

I've been getting a lot of requests for specific scenarios with the Dune men (which I promise I will answer soon!) but I wanted to write a longer more in-depth general yandere HC first.

All this being said, I also coordinate each character to a TS song from TTPD (Yes I'm obsessed, please don't make fun of me 🥺🙏) each character's HC is divided into three specific scenarios. I've already chosen the songs and lyrics + written an outline for all the characters. I'm planning on working on it after I finish the Feyd x reader x Paul fic. 

Now one question. I don't really like Rabban and I don't think he has many fangirls. But should I include him in the HC or just ignore him?