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witchywithwhiskey · 2 months ago

Note

🍬💖 Sweetheats Game 💖🍬

Ari Levinson

You Wish

I like how that could be sweet... or bitter.

better than the book

pairing: best friend's brother!ari levinson x female reader

summary: your best friend can't go with you to the romance bookstore having a post-Valentine's Day sale, so you end up on a day trip with her brother, who has plans to visit the hardware store in the same town. but when he crashes your book browsing and sees what you're interested in, he decides he needs to show you he's better than the book.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, protected sex, vaginal fingering, brief masturbation (m and f), nipple sucking, cock warming, dirty talk, praise kink, brief light degradation kink, aftercare, begging, teasing/banter, pet names (sunshine, gorgeous, baby), possessive behavior, feelings confessions, happy ending, referenced monsterfucking (it's in a book reader picks up/Ari buys for her)

word count: 9.0k

a/n: ahh Eralen, this was such a fun character and prompt combination, i hope it's ok the fic ended up being on the longer side 🫣 this was also partially inspired by a conversation i had with one of my coworkers (who i've known for 10 years and am friends with outside of work!) about the book Morning Glory Milking Farm by C.M. Nascosta, which makes a little guest appearance in this fic 🤭 anyway thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy ♡♡

sweethearts game masterlist

“What’re ya reading, sunshine?”

The deep, delicious voice was familiar enough that you didn’t startle (much), but the honeyed tone of Ari Levinson definitely did distract you from the back of the book you’d been reading.

Glancing up at your best friend’s older brother, you found him wearing an easy grin. He was seemingly entirely at ease in the monster erotica section of the romance bookstore.

For a moment, you could only look at Ari.

His brown hair was swept back from his face, like he’d run his hands through it dozens of times already that day—which, you knew for a fact, he had. It was one of his habits, and you couldn’t say you minded, since it only served to highlight his handsomeness.

Ari’s blue eyes were sparkling like the sun glinting off the sea, even in the unflattering fluorescents of the store, and his smile was as warm as a summer breeze. His beard was long and scruffy, like it had been for years, despite his mom and your best friend begging him to shave it.

Secretly, you were glad he’d kept the beard. You liked it. It suited him somehow, and added to his already excessive amount of handsomeness and affable charm.

Still, though Ari always seemed to be at ease no matter where he was, it was a bit surreal to see him in a romance bookstore, surrounded by everything from bodice rippers and dark mafia books to modern-set rom-coms and romantasy epics. Your brain couldn’t quite make sense of it.

But then, your brain couldn’t quite make sense of any of the events that had led to this moment.

It had all started with a glass of wine at your best friend’s house (as most of the stories in you life did)…

Ari had been over at her house, fixing the sink, while you’d been catching up with your best friend over some wine and charcuterie. You’d already had a glass, so you might’ve been a little overexcited as you made a case for why she should join you on a day trip up the coast to the romance bookstore that was having a big post-Valentine’s Day sale.

Your friend had given you a sympathetic frown and told you she had plans. And then she’d turned to Ari and asked him if that was the same town that had a specialty hardware store he’d been wanting to go to. Ari had given his sister a strange look, but confirmed it was the same town.

Before you’d quite known what was happening, your best friend was finalizing the details for the day trip you were going to take with Ari, to the town with the romance bookstore and hardware store.

You’d tried to stop her, you really had. You even tried appealing to Ari, telling him you were certain you could look at books much longer than he could look at hammers and screws and whatever else they had in a hardware store.

You didn’t want him to get stuck waiting around for you.

“I’ll wait for you all day, sunshine,” Ari had said in his low, deep voice, that easy grin on his face.

Despite the fact that you were sitting in your best friend’s kitchen, hearing Ari say those words, in that voice, had butterflies fluttering in your belly, and you couldn’t help but squirm a little in your seat. It wasn’t until you’d looked away from Ari’s gorgeous blue eyes and taken a sip of wine that you’d been able to get yourself under control.

But then your best friend had caught your eye, an ecstatic and triumphant look on her face, and you’d had to roll your eyes.

For years, your best friend had not-so-secretly been convinced that Ari was in love with you, and she’d spent half that time trying to convince you to marry him so that you could be sisters. But you just couldn’t see it.

Sure, in your heart of hearts, you harbored feelings for your best friend’s older brother. He was charming and friendly and thoughtful and kind—and he was hotter than any other man you’d ever seen in real life. But you’d never gotten the impression he felt anything aside from platonic fondness for you.

Even when he called you ‘sunshine’ and made comments about being willing to wait around for you all day, you didn’t put much stock in it. Ari was known for being a flirt, and you’d seen him make plenty of women swoon, only to go about his day as if he had no idea of the effect he had.

Unfortunately for you, on that evening in your best friend’s kitchen, Ari had taken his sister’s side, and faced with the stubborn determination of both Levinson siblings, there was nothing you could do.

So you’d woken up early that Saturday morning, donned a dress and a jacket to match the unseasonably warm February weather, and taken care to do your makeup and hair just the way you liked. Nerves jittered anxiously in your belly, and you’d had to keep reminding yourself that your day trip with Ari was not a date.

But when he’d pulled up in front of your house in his old truck, he’d hopped out and rounded the front, helping you into the passenger seat. That had made your heart race enough, but then Ari had gotten back into the driver’s seat and handed you a to-go cup of coffee and a plain, white paper bag with breakfast inside.

Of course Ari Levinson had gotten your coffee and breakfast order exactly right. And all you could do was murmur a quick, “Thank you.”

For the rest of the drive north up the coast, Ari had remained pretty quiet, leaving you to your thoughts while soft rock played on the radio.

You were grateful for the peace. You weren’t exactly the most talkative person, especially in the morning, and it was nice to enjoy the scenery and your coffee without any awkward conversation.

Somehow, you knew Ari had also known this about you, which had made your already tangled thoughts get even more snarled.

Ari was going so far out of his way to be attentive and considerate, and though you’d never spent much time alone with him, it was getting harder and harder to think your best friend was totally delusional about him having feelings for you.

Once you’d reached your destination, Ari had parked along the main street and walked you to the bookstore. Before parting ways, he’d pointed out the hardware store where he’d be in case you needed him. Then you’d gone inside the bookstore and let yourself get lost in the shelves.

At least, until Ari had snuck up on you in the moster erotica section.

You already had a sizable pile of books in one arm, and even you were hitting your limit of browsing, but you’d been considering adding another to the pile. One that had quite a tantalizing title and a provocative cover.

Biting back a smirk, you responded to Ari’s question by lifting the book in your hand so he could see the front.

Although you tried to act cool and collected, heat blazed in your cheeks as you thought about what he was seeing—a classic-style romance cover, but with one major difference to old-school bodice rippers.

There was, of course, a woman wearing a dress, the neckline slipping low on her breasts. But instead of being joined on the cover by a man, she was clutched against the big, hulking chest of a minotaur.

“Morning Glory Milking—jesus christ, sunshine, what kinda shit are you reading?” Ari scoffed, but he snagged the book out of your hand, flipping it over so he could skim the summary on the back.

When his eyes flicked up, catching yours in a way that you knew meant he expected an answer, you had a harder time holding in your smirk, but you managed to shrug carelessly.

“Minotaur porn, obviously,” you answered, deadpan.

Shock flitted across Ari’s face, and you couldn’t help but toss your head back with a laugh.

Your humor only served to make Ari mutter unhappily about the impossible mechanics of a woman fucking a minotaur. A dark look settled across his expression, like a cloud blotting out the sun.

“I bet I could get you off better than this bullshit,” Ari grumbled a little louder as he finished reading the summary and handed the book back to you.

When his words registered, you froze. Your fingers, which had been curling around the edge of the book, stilled, and a gasp tumbled freely from your lips.

For a brief, awful moment, you thought you might’ve misheard him. But then you forced your gaze up, meeting his eye.

Deep in the bright blue of Ari’s gaze, there was something you’d never seen before—something that caught your eye like the sun glinting off treasure beneath the sea.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked closer. The emotion swirling in Ari’s eyes was as dangerous as a rip tide, threatening to pull you under, but you found, for once, that you didn’t want to pull away and save yourself. You wanted to dive into whatever you were seeing in Ari’s gaze.

Laughter sounded closeby and the spell of the moment was broken. You took the book from Ari and added it to your pile, shaking out your shoulders and trying to brush off the intensity of the look the two of you had shared.

If that look, that emotion, in Ari’s gaze had been a rip tide, you were running from it now. Cocking a hip, you settled your pile of books on top of it, giving Ari a doubtful look as you scoffed.

“You wish.”

An almost predatory smirk curved Ari’s mouth and he took a step closer, then another.

He moved slowly, and yet, before you knew what was happening, his big body was looming over yours, caging you in between his broad chest and the hard bookshelves at your back.

Lifting one hand, Ari settled it on a shelf above your head, ducking down so his eyes were level with yours.

“Would you like me to prove it to you, sunshine?” His voice was a low, delicious rumble that trickled down your spine and settled heavily between your thighs. “Would you like me to show you just how good I can get you off?”

Your thoughts were nothing more than cotton candy clouds floating aimlessly across your mind, so all you could do was let your instincts take over and respond honestly. You nodded your head dazedly, blinking up at Ari like he was the sun and you were desperate to bask in his warmth.

That smirk on Ari’s face deepened, softening a little with an affection so tender, it felt like it could cut straight through all the walls around your heart if you let it. In that moment, you were eager to let it.

“I’m gonna need words, sunshine, tell me what you want,” Ari murmured in his deep voice, his words encouraging. At some point, his other hand had slipped onto your hip, and he squeezed you gently, urging you to do as he said.

Although a part of you knew you were still in a decently crowded bookstore, surrounded by shoppers all looking to take advantage of the shop’s post-Valentine’s Day sale, a larger part felt like you and Ari were the only two people in the world.

All you could focus on was him, his warmth and his closeness, the scent of him—salt and sunshine—surrounding you like the most perfect cozy blanket.

Your heart yearned with the desire to lean into him, to revel in the comfort he offered, while another part of you ached with the hunger to take him up on his offer, to see just how good he could get you off.

One of those needs seemed easier to satisfy than the other, so you tipped your head back and let your hand rest on his chest. Curling your fingers in the soft fabric of Ari’s worn flannel shirt, you held his gaze as you spoke.

“I want you to show me, Ari, now—please,” you whispered, tacking on the last word desperately, as if you thought good manners would get you what you wanted. Thankfully, it seemed to do the trick.

Ari’s eyes darkened, churning like the sea during a storm as they raked over your face. It was like he was searching for something, but whether it was doubt or hesitance or something else entirely, you didn’t know.

After a moment, he nodded as if to himself, seeming satisfied by whatever he saw in your expression.

“You got it, sunshine.”

Then Ari was pulling away, taking the scent of salt and sun with him. You might’ve let out a little protesting whine if his big, calloused palm hadn’t skimmed down your arm and taken your hand in his, fingers tangling with yours as he began leading you toward the front of the store.

Your feet tripped happily after Ari, your mind wandering a couple dozen steps ahead and wondering what exactly you’d gotten yourself into with your best friend’s brother. Was he really going to prove he could get you off better than some fictional guy in a book? Why did he even care?

Since you were in a daze of lust and questions, you didn’t notice Ari coming to an abrupt stop, and you crashed lightly into him. He chuckled softly and eased the stack of books from your arm.

Before you could process what he was doing and protest, he’d pulled out his wallet and paid for all the books—even the minotaur one—then scooped them off the counter to skip the step of having the cashier bag them.

Ari bid the bookseller a brisk, “Have a good day,” as his fingers tangled in yours once again and he tugged you toward the door. Your mouth opened and closed as you trailed along with him, trying to find the words for what you wanted to say.

It wasn’t until the crisp February air hit your cheeks—still unseasonably warm for the winter month, but chilly compared to the warmth of the store—that your mind cleared a little.

Ari was already striding down the street toward his truck, your books tucked under one of his thick arms while his fingers kept you tethered together. You took a few quick steps, catching up to Ari’s long gait, and curled your body around his arm, trying not to get distracted by the way his hard biceps flexed against your soft breasts.

“You didn’t have to do that, Ari, I can pay for my own books,” you said, a little breathless as you fought to keep up with Ari’s long stride and quick pace.

He tried to slow, glancing down at you with a little crease of worry between his dark brows, but you only pushed him on. You were just as eager to get back to his truck as he was, and it was only a little bit further down the block so you could keep up the fast pace.

Ari was silent, a serious look on his face, until the two of you got to his truck. There, he opened the passenger door, stowed your pile of books in the small backseat, and helped you up into the cab. Methodically, he secured your seatbelt across your lap.

You were beginning to think he wouldn’t respond to your comment about buying your own books, but once you were settled in the passenger seat of his truck, Ari fixed you with a stubborn look you’d seen only a handful of times before—including when he’d decided he was taking you on this day trip.

Ari’s hands were braced on either side of you, one on the back of the seat and the other beside your hip, his body effectively caging you in against the leather seat. But just like in the bookstore, it only made you feel as if you were the only two people in the world, as if something might blossom between the two of you that became something real.

“When you’re my girl, you’re gonna have to get used to me buying you things,” Ari said, pausing to let his words sink in.

The breath in your lungs froze and your heart stuttered in your chest, unsure if you’d heard him correctly.

But when he simply stared at you, that obstinate look in his eye, you knew he meant what he’d said. You knew he had every intention of asking you to be his girl. And the fact that he was so sure you’d say yes was intoxicatingly hot.

It took you a long moment to realize Ari was waiting for you to respond, so you nodded mutely, showing your understanding. His eyes watched your face closely, taking your shock in stride, before leaning in so his breath brushed against your cheek.

“Especially your filthy, smutty books,” Ari rumbled. The warmth of his beard was so close to your face, you wanted to close the distance and nuzzle into it even as your body burned from his dirty words. “Someone’s gonna have to take care’a ya when they get you all hot and bothered—and it’s going to be me.”

A soft, wanton moan slipped from your lips before you could bite it back, and Ari chuckled, the sound going straight between your thighs and making you squirm. You were seconds away from curling your fingers in his warm flannel shirt and pulling him into the truck on top of you, but before you could, he pulled away.

Ari’s beard rasped against your cheek as he moved back, and you knew he’d done it on purpose to tease you because of the entirely too self-satisfied smirk on his face as he straightened. You pouted up at him, but he only continued chuckling, closing the door of his truck with a firm snap.

He left you squirming and practically panting in the passenger seat while he rounded the front of his truck and hopped in. The grin on his face was easy, and his movements were loose and relaxed, but there was a bulge in his jeans he couldn’t hide and you knew he was just as affected as you, which made him even more inexplicably hotter.

If it wasn’t for the seatbelt Ari had secured across your front, you would’ve slid across the leather bench seat of his truck and curled into his side. You wouldn’t be able to control yourself for long, your fingers pawing at the sizable bulge pressing against his zipper, teasing him while he drove…

In the long moments it took you to drag yourself from your lustful thoughts and find your tongue again, Ari maneuvered out of the parking spot along main street and merged into the light traffic of the quaint seaside town.

He was driving north again, you noticed, not toward the town where you both lived, which was south along the coast.

But you hardly had the capacity to wonder over where exactly he was taking you—you only hoped it was private enough for him to show you how much better than your book he could get you off—when you were still so stuck on the words he’d said and the surety in his voice when he’d said them.

“When I’m your girl?” you asked, your voice coming out small and hesitant in the quiet of the truck cab. You’d meant to sound accusatory, but it seemed your yearning heart was in control of your tongue, and she needed to know what exactly he wanted. “You want me to be your girl, Ari?”

The truck came to a stop at one of the few stoplights in town, and Ari looked over at you, a series of emotions flitting across his face so fast, you could hardly recognize them all. There was surprise and skepticism, followed quickly by exasperation and warm affection.

“Yes, sunshine, I want you to be my girl,” Ari said plainly, his eyes holding yours so you could see the genuine honesty in his gaze. “I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

The light changed, but Ari didn’t look away from you. He held your gaze as you processed his words, your mouth opening and closing, but no words coming out.

What could you say? You’d assumed for years that Ari was just being nice to you, that he flirted with everyone, that he didn’t have any real feelings for you. But you’d been wrong, so very wrong.

“I didn’t want to pressure you, or come between you and my sister,” Ari went on, a slight panicked look creeping into his eyes the longer you stayed quiet. “But I thought you knew—my sister has been anything but subtle about trying to set us up.”

He gestured vaguely around the cab of the truck, and a sudden understanding crashed over you like a tidal wave.

“Oh.” It was all you could manage. “Oh.”

Memories crashed through your mind like one wave breaking right after the other, and you were reminded of all the times your best friend had finagled you and Ari into the same setting.

There was that birthday dinner she’d hosted for him, where you somehow ended up sitting next to him, despite the table being filled with his friends and family. And the summer barbecue when you and Ari had been assigned tasks that kept you in the kitchen away from the rest of the party.

Even the evening you’d spent with her when you’d mentioned the bookstore sale, she could’ve rescheduled to a night when Ari wasn’t fixing her sink. Or she could’ve changed the plans so you were hosting that night.

There were dozens of other instances you could think of, all of which you’d thought nothing of at the time. But it was so obvious when you looked at it all together. You felt a little ashamed that you hadn’t noticed the extent of your best friend’s matchmaking. But Ari clearly had.

“She always insisted you felt the same,” Ari admitted, his body still turned toward you in the driver’s seat, the truck still stopped at the light, which had cycled back to red. “She told me I just needed to be patient, but I thought she was overestimating how you felt about me.”

“She wasn’t,” you said, the words falling from your lips before you could stop them. But you didn’t have a chance to feel embarrassed, because a wide, pleased grin spread across Ari’s face, brightening the small cab of his truck.

“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about her being unhappy that her brother’s dating her best friend,” Ari joked, shooting you a wink before turning back to the wheel.

The light switched over to green and he turned at the intersection, using one hand on the wheel. Ari lay his other hand on the middle of the bench seat, palm up.

It was a clear invitation, and, with a sense of near-breathless freedom, you realized you didn’t have to feign disinterest in him anymore. You could take his hand because he liked you. He wanted you to be his girl. And you wanted him to be your guy.

The callouses on Ari’s hand were rough against the softness of your skin. He was a contractor, someone who worked with his hands, and you enjoyed the evidence of it. You liked how steady and strong his hand felt as your fingers twined with his, and how warm his palm was against yours.

For a long moment, you and Ari sat in silence, his truck cruising along a road that ran beside the rocky coast. With the ocean on one side, and Ari on the other, you felt a happy smile pull at your lips.

You tugged Ari’s hand a little closer and sighed, wishing you could curl up against his side and watch the ocean. The only thing that could make the moment better was if you were surrounded by Ari’s warmth, instead of only feeling it through your joined hands.

Ari heard your sigh and squeezed your hand.

“You still up for this, sunshine?” he asked, drawing your attention away from the ocean and back to his handsome face.

His hand was resting easily on the steering wheel, but his brows were pulled low over his eyes, a crease of concern between them. His gaze kept darting toward you, and you realized he must not’ve seen your smile with your head turned away, and he’d misread your sigh.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” he said quickly. “I could take you home, take you out properly, then see where the night leads us…” Ari’s voice trailed off suggestively, though there was still an undercurrent of worry in his tone.

You let a laugh fall from your lips, already shaking your head vehemently. “No, no, I want this now, please,” you said firmly, tugging Ari’s hand closer like you were worried he was going to pull away. Staring down at your joined hands on your thigh, you went on, your voice quieter, “I’ve wanted you for a long time, too, Ari.”

Ari squeezed your fingers in his, the gesture comforting and grateful all at once, as his shoulders relaxed and he drove on. The road began to curve away from the ocean, so you found yourself watching him, memorizing the profile of his face.

A few minutes later, he pulled onto a street lined with beachside cottages and tall trees that would be lush with greenery in the summer, shading the sidewalks that led toward the ocean. At the end of the street, there was a narrow road that led between two large sand dunes cresting higher than the truck.

On the other side, there was a small, deserted parking lot overlooking the beach and the ocean. Faintly, you could hear the waves crashing on the near-distant shore, and their comforting rumble grew louder when Ari pulled the truck into a spot at the very edge of the lot and turned off the engine.

For a moment, you got lost in staring out at the water, the golden afternoon sunlight sparkling off the whitewater of the crashing waves. You’d lived your whole life by the ocean, but its beauty never failed to enchant you.

In fact, you were so transfixed by the view, you hardly noticed when Ari reached over and unbuckled your seatbelt.

Your gaze was only pulled from the sight of the sea when Ari’s big hands grabbed your hips and he hauled you across the worn leather seat to press into his side.

Instantly, you leaned into him, breathing in the scent of salt and sunshine that always clung to him.

Blinking slowly up at Ari from under your lashes, you took a moment to appreciate the handsomeness of his face up close. You could see the creases in his tanned skin, the evidence of aging that made him so much hotter, and the light dusting of freckles across his nose.

His bright blue sparkling eyes were like tiny oceans, churning with lust and desire and affection—all for you—while his mouth was curved into a slight smile, nestled into his invitingly soft brown beard. Even his hair, streaked with golden blond, looked perfect in that moment.

As you looked at him, Ari’s expression softened, his smile deepening and his blue eyes darkening.

“Keep looking at me like that, sunshine,” Ari rumbled, his voice dipping low in a way that had your belly swooping and your core heating. His calloused palm smoothed over your cheek and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “And I’m liable to give you more than a few books and a couple orgasms—I’ll give you the whole sea.”

A soft laugh bubbled up your throat and spilled from your lips. You turned your head and pressed a kiss into Ari’s palm before looking back at him. Your hands reached for him, fingers sinking deep into his beard as you cupped his face.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” you said somberly, feeling the corner of your mouth flutter as you tried to hold back a smile. “But it’s a sweet thought, Ari.”

“I’ll show you just how sweet I can be,” Ari grumbled a second before he ducked down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but sweet.

The months and years Ari had been holding back, restraining himself from touching you, from kissing you, were unleashed all at once the moment his lips brushed against yours. His deep, guttural groan rumbled in his throat, sending sparks of pleasure cascading through your body as you opened for him, welcoming him in with just as much fervor.

Ari’s tongue plunged into your mouth as soon as your lips parted, scattering your thoughts on the ocean breeze, leaving you to revel in the pure, feral feeling of him. You were nothing but blazing desire, and a deep, throbbing ache needing to be filled—to be filled by Ari and only Ari.

Your hands couldn’t stay still, moving between carding through Ari’s hair, twisting your fingers in his beard and curling around the collar of his thick flannel shirt. You kissed him harder, just as greedy for him as he was for you, and pulled him closer, until you were bent so far backward, you were nearly laying down on the bench seat.

“Fuck, sunshine,” Ari cursed when he wrenched his mouth away from yours, nipping and kissing and sucking his way down your neck. His strong arms were wrapped around your back, holding you tight to his chest while you panted and squirmed. “I’ve wanted you for so long, I’m not gonna last, but I promise I’ll make it up to you—I’ll fuck you better than that fictional minotaur, I swear.”

An incredulous laugh burst from your lips before you could hold it back and you tugged on Ari’s hair until he lifted up enough that you could meet his eye and he could see the truth in yours when you said, “It’s already so much better, Ari, because it’s real and it’s you.”

Surprise and something tender flickered across Ari’s face a second before he closed the distance between you, slanting his mouth to yours for another breathtaking kiss, his lips working against yours so covetously, it stole the air from your lungs.

When he pulled away, you were panting for breath, his chest heaving with his own need for air, and when you locked eyes, a frisson of lust passed between you. Your hands reached for one another, your fingers equally greedy as they tugged at the clothes that were suddenly grievously in the way of what you both wanted.

“Need this off now, sunshine,” Ari rumbled as he pawed at your dress, his voice so deep and rough, it was nearly a growl. “Need to be inside you—fuck, c’mon gorgeous, help me out here.” His fingers were fumbling around the bodice, looking for a zipper and not realizing there wasn’t one.

Huffing a laugh, you shrugged out of your jacket, then grabbed the skirt of your dress and tugged it off over your head, Ari’s hands skimming up your sides, then your arms, and he helped you. You tossed the garment into the backseat and turned back to Ari, who was sitting there stunned by the sight of your bare body.

You felt his hungry gaze like a hot caress as it swept down your form, lingering on the way your tits bounced slightly in your bra from your heavy breathing, before continuing down over your soft tummy and settled on the spot where your thighs were pressed together.

Ari’s gaze lingered for a long, hot moment, the expression on his face contorting into something feral, the twisting of his mouth telling you he was seriously considering burying his face between your thighs and not coming up for air for a long, long time.

But then you whined and reached for him, your fingers twisting in the front of his flannel shirt, and that seemed to snap him from whatever spell your body had put him under. His big hands skimmed up your thighs, groping your soft flesh with greedy fingers while he leaned in for another kiss.

It took some maneuvering in the tight quarters of his truck, but Ari helped you rearrange yourself on the bench seat so you could spread your thighs around his thick waist. As if he couldn’t control himself, his eyes dropped hungrily to the thin cotton panties covering your pussy, and he groaned loudly when he saw the wet spot you’d already left.

“Sunshine,” he rumbled, desire thick in his tone as he dragged his darkened blue eyes up to yours. “When I get ya in my bed, I’m going to feast on this pussy until you’re screaming my name so loud no one will ever question if you’re my girl again—least of all you.”

Ari’s eyes were dark pools of lust, his words so honest and filthy, you felt your breath catch in your throat, desperate arousal heating your blood. You were nodding your head before you even noticed yourself moving, your lips forming the words, “Yes, please,” and saying it in such a sweet tone that Ari chuckled in amusement.

“Always so polite, sunshine,” Ari teased lightly, ducking forward and sinking his teeth into your lip, biting down until you moaned loudly into his mouth. “Let’s see if you’re still so polite when your cunt is filled with my cock, huh?”

“Please, Ari, please,” you begged, his words driving your need impossibly higher, until you were clawing at the buttons of his flannel, half ripping them through the holes in your impatience to get the shirt off him.

As soon as enough buttons were undone for his head to fit through, Ari grabbed the back of his collar and pulled his shirt off over his head, tossing it into the backseat. You had only a moment to admire Ari, thick and barrel-chested, filling out his white t-shirt, before he tugged that off too.

Then his chest was bare in all its glory.

A soft sound of awe slipped from your lips, and your fingers pressed to his heated skin, tracing the ridges of his muscles and threading through the thick, dark hair dusted across his pecs. He had a thin layer of softness padding his muscles, and your fingertips sank into it greedily.

A smile curved your lips when your nails raked over his golden skin, delighting in his tortured groan.

“Panties off now, sunshine, or ‘m gonna blow in my briefs like a fucking teenager,” Ari growled, gently batting your hands away so he could work open the button of his jeans. There was a thick, hard bulge pushing against his zipper, and your body warmed as you watched him breathlessly.

With your gaze fixed on Ari’s nimble fingers, you quickly undid your bra and tugged it off, tossing it in the backseat. Then you gathered your knees to your chest and pulled your panties down and off your legs. Those, too, joined the pile of clothing in the backseat of Ari’s truck.

At the same time, Ari shoved his jeans and navy blue boxer briefs as far down his thick, hairy thighs as they could go. But you weren’t looking at his hands anymore. Not when his hard, heavy cock bounced free, stealing the breath from your lungs when you saw how big and thick he was.

Ari gripped his stiff length in his hand and pumped it slowly, his thumb brushing over the tip and gathering the precum there, smoothing it down his shaft in a practiced motion.

It was mesmerizing, watching Ari jerk himself off slowly, making your slit grow even wetter. Unable to sit still, one of your hands trailed down your body, your fingers sliding between your drenched folds and finding the aching button of your clit.

A rough, rumbling sound came from Ari’s chest when you moaned at the brush of your finger against yoru clit, and you finally tore your eyes away from his cock. Glancing up at his face, your sucked in a gasp at the sheer, naked hunger in Ari’s expression.

His blue eyes were as dark as the depths of the ocean, and he was looking at you so gluttonously, like he craved you from the bottom of his soul, that your heart thudded in your chest. You felt your own desire reflected in his expression, and it suddenly wasn’t good enough to simply look at him, you needed to feel him.

The fingers of your other hand reached for Ari, and that broke him from the enchantment your naked body had put on him. His fist squeezed around the base of his cock and he shook his head, his free hand pushing his hair back as it flew in his face.

Ari snatched your hand from between your thighs, licking the taste of you from your skin, his eyes sliding closed briefly. Then he pressed soft kisses to your knuckles and fingertips, his heated eyes finding yours.

“Just gimme a sec to find a condom,” he said in a husky voice, dropping your hand on your belly as he reached for the glove compartment of his truck.

Instead of watching him fumble through the junk in there, your hands played idly with your tits, groping your soft flesh and teasing your nipples with flicks of your fingers. All the while, you watched Ari’s face, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth when his eyes kept drifting to your chest, the hand around his cock stroking himself again.

Ari cursed at himself and dragged his eyes away from your tits, rededicating himself to his task. After another brief moment of searching, he found an unopened box of condoms, tore it open and made quick work of the foil package before rolling the rubber down his hard length.

While he fisted the base of his cock, Ari slipped two fingers into your tight heat, your pussy so wet you took him easily. A moan tumbled from your lips and your spine arched up off the leather seat, your hips bearing down on his fingers as he pumped them in and out of you.

“Ready for me, sunshine?” Ari asked in a deep, rumbling voice that was thick with his own desire. He added a third finger to your dripping hole, stretching you enough to take his thick girth. “Ready for the cock that’ll ruin you for your fictional minotaur?”

At his words, you let out a decidedly impolite snort, the sound devolving into helpless giggles at both Ari’s ridiculous question and your indelicate response.

In retaliation, Ari thrust his fingers deeper inside you, stroking against a spot that had you moaning helplessly, squirming and writhing beneath him. Your thighs spread as wide was they could in his truck, while your hips wriggled greedily for more.

“Ari, please, I’m ready—I need you,” you cried, reaching for him and curling your fingers in his beard, pulling him down on top of you. Your mouth brushed against his in a teasing, breathless kiss, and then you were moaning and arching into him. “Please, ruin me with your big, fat cock, Ari—make forget all about that fictional minotaur.”

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a snicker, and Ari’s chest heaved with an answering chuckle. Laughter spilled from both of you, tumbling past each other’s lips and filling the truck with the sounds your amusement.

When his laugh finally died out, Ari’s mouth captured yours in a searing kiss. Then he pressed his forehead to yours, the feeling of his warmth and the comfort of his familiar scent filling you with a happiness unlike any you’d ever known.

“You’re never going let me live this down, are you?” he asked on another laugh, his head ducking down so he could nuzzle your cheek with his beard, making you giggle as it tickled your skin.

“No, never,” you confirmed with a shake of your head, another peal of laughter spilling from your lips. “But I promise not to tell anyone you were jealous of a made-up minotaur in a smutty book.”

Ari huffed a reluctant laugh, distracting you momentarily when he pulled his fingers from your pussy, replacing them with the thick tip of his cock. He pressed against your dripping hole, making you moan helplessly.

“Guess I just have to make good on all my promises then,” he muttered, shunting his hips forward and pushing inside you a couple inches. “Gonna have to show you how good I can make you feel, huh, sunshine?” He pulled back and thrust forward, pressing deeper and splitting you open on his thick cock.

“Oh god, Ari,” you moaned, nails raking up his sides as you hooked your legs around his hips. The heels of your feet dug into the thick muscle of his thighs as you urged him on. “More, deeper, please, Ari, please!”

“You really are always so polite, aren’t you, sunshine?” Ari teased, his voice filled with laughter and desire, even as he gave you what you begged for. He pushed in to the hilt, burying himself so quickly in your cunt, it made you gasp.

He felt so good—so big and thick and stretching you so perfectly. It was all you could do to curl your fingers in his soft brown hair and cling to him, your pussy pulsing around his throbbing cock like your body never wanted to let him go.

Ari’s chest heaved against yours, the firm feeling of his muscles and the soft hair on his pecs teasing your nipples deliciously. He pressed down on top of you, his arms digging beneath your back and holding you tight in the cradle of his big, broad body.

“S’good,” he slurred against your cheek, his breath hot as it fanned across your skin, making you shiver. He grunted when your pussy squeezed him tighter, sucking him deeper into your heat. “How’s m’cock feel, sunshine?”

“Sooo good, so big and thick, filling me up sooo good, Ari,” you babbled, your thighs squeezing his waist, fingers tugging impatiently on his hair. “Fuck me, Ari, please, I need it—make me feel good, please, Ari, Ari, Ari.”

“Fuck yeah, gorgeous, you sound so pretty saying my name,” Ari groaned, pressing messy kisses along your jaw before capturing your lips in a heated kiss. “Gonna make you feel good, gonna give you everything you could ever dream of—I promise you, sunshine, promise you.”

Ari’s words trailed off as his mouth found yours again. He kissed you, deep and filthy, while he fucked you slow and sweet. He was pulling out until only the tip of his cock remained in your tight cunt before pushing inside you slowly, deliberately, making you feel every thick inch of him filling you up over and over again.

You could feel your release building deep inside you, the pleasurable tension coiling tight in your belly, but you needed more. You needed it harder and faster, you needed Ari pounding into you, fucking you rough enough that you’d be feeling him long after he’d made you cum.

“Ari, please, fuck me,” you whined in his ear, fingers twisting desperately in his hair, your hips lifting up off the leather bench seat to meet his thrusts, the sound of your skin slapping together filling the truck. “I want it hard and rough—show me I’m yours, Ari, make me yours.”

“Fuck, sunshine, ya gotta filthy mouth on you, don’t ya?” Ari growled, picking up his pace until he was fucking you like a feral animal. “It’s all that dirty smut, isn’t it, turning you into a needy little slut, huh, gorgeous?”

Ari’s hands trailed down your back, grabbing your ass and digging his strong fingers into your soft flesh, holding you still while he rutted into you. Your fingers let go of his hair, reaching up and pushing against the inside of the passenger door, loud cries of pleasure and slutty moans falling from your lips unabashedly.

“You want me to fuck this pretty pussy till she’s mine, baby?” Ari went on, his breath hot and heavy next to your ear as he kept up his relentless pace, sending you careening toward your release. “You want me to fuck you so good, you’ll never forget who you belong to?”

“Yes, yes, yes, oh god, please, Ari,” you cried breathlessly, your voice high and keening, your body writhing beneath Ari’s broad form. You were barreling toward the edge of bliss, Ari’s hammering cock shoving you closer with every ruthless thrust.

“Fuck yeah, sunshine, beg me to make you mine—you beg so pretty and polite for such a slut, baby.”

“Please, Ari, make me cum, please, make me cum all over your cock, make me yours, Ari, please, please, please,” you babbled, your words devolving into a sob as Ari fucked you harder, rougher, grinding his cock deep into your cunt until you were screaming in pleasure.

“Cum for me, sunshine,” Ari growled, hilting his cock deep inside you and grinding his hips so your clit rubbed against the base of him. “You’re mine—all fucking mine—now cum all over my cock like my perfect, gorgeous girl.”

The tension in your core snapped suddenly and you shattered apart, coming with a scream that was drowned out between the crashing ocean and cresting sand dunes of the deserted beach. Pleasure washed over you in unending waves, your body trembling beneath Ari’s rutting form.

He followed you over the edge a moment later, burying his face in the crook of your neck and muffling his grunting, pleasured groans in your skin as he thrust wildly into your spasming cunt. You felt him twitching and throbbing deep inside you, the feeling making you shiver with another wave of pleasure as he found his release in your body.

For long, delightful moments, you and Ari writhed together, your hips rocking idly while his were grinding deeper into you. His mouth kissed up your neck and along your jaw, finding your lips and drinking down your soft, pleasured cries like they were water in a barren desert.

“Tell me, sunshine,” Ari rumbled into your mouth, his beard rasping against your cheeks and making the corners of your lips tip up in a smile. “Was that better than the book?”

You made a soft, questioning sound, nipping at Ari’s full lower lip before licking away whatever sting your teeth had left. He grunted his pleasure before responding to your unasked question.

“The minotaur book—did I get you off better than the minotaur book?”

A surprised laugh tumbled from your lips, but when Ari didn’t join in on your mirth, you eased him away so you could look into your eyes. His gaze was serious and expectant, which only made you laugh again, incredulously.

“Yes, Ari, you were way better than the book, you impossible man,” you said, muttering the last three words with affectionate exasperation as you pulled him down for another kiss.

When he pulled away a moment later, Ari was grinning from ear to ear, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Told ya I’d be better,” he quipped, making you tip your head back and laugh. Ari took the opportunity to bury his face in your neck, kissing your delicate skin until you were letting out breathy little moans.

Eventually, though, the chilly February air encroached on your blissful, post-orgasm haze, seeping into the truck cab and brushing against your damp, cooling skin. When you shivered from the cold more than his beard, Ari pushed up onto his knees, gently easing his softening length from your body and made quick work of disposing of the condom.

While you sat up, he grabbed his thick flannel shirt from the backseat and wrapped it around your shoulders, helping your arms into the sleeves and buttoning it up your chest—after giving each of your tits a quick farewell kiss and promising to pay them more attention next time.

You giggled at his silly antics, but were grateful when he buttoned up the shirt almost to the top, encasing you in the warmth of the soft fabric, the scent of salt and sun still clinging to it. You turned your face into the collar, and breathed in deeply, humming happily when the smell of Ari filled your lungs.

Ari had paused to watch you, his expression a little dumbfounded, but when your eyes met his, he smiled that easy grin of his, though there was a warmth and a softness to it you’d never seen before. There was also a tenderness in his gaze you didn’t think you’d ever get tired of seeing.

Before you could get lost in each other again, Ari reached into the backseat and pulled out a pair of clean sweatpants, helping you into those as well before he redressed himself in his jeans and white t-shirt. From there, you both pulled on your shoes, and Ari got out, rounding the truck to help you down.

While he jogged to the closest garbage can to throw out the condom, you made your way into the beach restroom off the parking lot, thanking the universe that it was open and clean, even during the offseason. You quickly went to the bathroom and cleaned yourself up, finding Ari waiting outside to help you back into the truck.

When he hopped into the driver’s seat, you scooted across the bench seat and tucked yourself into his side, looking up at him with a stubborn expression on your face.

Instead of trying to argue that you should sit in the passenger seat, Ari dug a seatbelt out from between the seat and the back. It was only a lap belt, but he insisted on buckling you in for your safety, then wrapped his arm around your shoulders and held you close while he pulled out of the beach parking lot.

The drive back down the coast was much different to the one you’d taken that morning. You and Ari never stopped talking, starting with you telling him about the books he’d bought for you, and him explaining what he’d wanted at the hardware store in town.

By the time Ari’s truck neared your house, you were arguing good-naturedly about where to go on your first official date.

The sun was dipping low in the sky, casting your little neighborhood in golden light as Ari pulled his truck to a stop in front of your house. You were happy to be home after so many hours spent in Ari’s truck, but you were reluctant to disentangle yourself from his warm, steady form.

“You can’t make a new home in my truck, sunshine,” Ari teased, putting his vehicle in park and tipping your face toward his. He brushed a devastatingly sweet kiss to your lips. “But if you ask me nicely, maybe I’ll come inside for a bit.”

You could feel his smirk pressed against the corner of your mouth and it made you hungry for him all over again. Still, you couldn’t help but tease him back.

“Oh please, Ari, won’t you come inside? It’d make me oh so happy,” you gushed in an exaggeratedly simpering voice. You were rewarded for your performance with a deep chuckle rumbling in Ari’s chest.

“Anything for my girl,” Ari rumbled, his voice deep and delicious. Then he kissed you harder, deeper, wringing a moan from the depths of your throat.

“Mm,” you murmured dazedly, chasing his lips for another kiss when he tried to pull away. “And you’re my guy, right, Ari?” you asked, you voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m yours, sunshine,” he promised without hesitation, sealing it with a kiss that you couldn’t help but get lost in.

It was a long while before the two of you extricated yourselves from each other and got out of the truck. Ari carried your clothes and books, while you dug in your bag for your keys.

The two of you had barely gotten into the house and put your stuff down before you were kissing again, tumbling onto the couch in your living room and shedding your clothes. Thankfully, Ari had grabbed the box of condoms from his truck, and you made good use of another.

After, the two of you threw together a quick dinner in your kitchen, then curled up on the couch under one of your warm throw blankets.

You wanted to start reading one of the books you’d gotten that day, and when you suggested the two of you could read your minotaur book together, Ari had shot you a wicked grin. He agreed—on the condition that you sat on his lap, keeping his cock warm while you took turns reading it out loud to each other.

Although you’d expected to get through at least one chapter before one of you gave in and threw the book onto the coffee table, you were barely a few pages in when Ari plucked it from your hands and set it aside.

But you couldn’t complain, not when he was spreading your thighs wider across his lap and bouncing you on his cock while he sucked your tits.

For the rest of the evening, Ari Levinson showed you just how much better than the book he was, making you forget all about the filthy smut you read and giving you the best, most earth-shattering orgasms of your life while cradling you in his arms like you were the most precious thing in the world.

When you finally curled up in bed together, you had a smile on your face, ready to spend the rest of your life with your best friend’s brother, who also happened to be the love of your life.

sweethearts game masterlist

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x you #ari levinson au #ari levinson fic #ari levinson imagine #chris evans characters #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans #witchywithwhiskeywork #witchywithwhiskey's sweethearts #eralen #valentine's day

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theemporium · 6 months ago

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[3.6k] sometimes home is a place. sometimes it's a person. sometimes it's a bench that holds more memories than mat can fully handle, memories that are slipping through his fingers.

based on 'coney island' by taylor swift for the eras tour hockey fic challenge created by @comphy-and-cozy and @wyattjohnston!!

Present – November 2024

Never in his life had Mat Barzal felt as pathetic as he did sitting on that bench in Coney Island.

It was cold as fuck, for one, which should have been expected on a day in late November in New York. The temperature was likely below freezing, the chill was starting to seep into his bones, and the jacket he had haphazardly thrown on was doing little to battle the weather.

Yet, it was barely a blip on his radar as the last few weeks properly washed over him.

Despite the holiday season, there were (thankfully) not many people around to see Mat in all his pathetic and embarrassing glory. Most people were probably sane inside their warm homes, enjoying dinner with the people they cherish the most. It felt stupid to be envious of a city full of people but that is exactly what he was.

Because as Mat sat on that bench, staring out at the near empty beach, he felt like he was choking.

On his feelings. On his memories. On his bitter resentment that, once upon a time, he was like those people.

That Mat used to have a warm home where he ate dinner with someone he fucking loved and cherished more than anyone or anything else in the world, but now he had lost that person.

That he didn’t know where his person was or what they were doing, but they were doing much better than him as he sat on the same fucking bench where he first met them.

Where he first met you.

…

August 2021

“You insist on this every year!”

“Because it’s fun every year!”

“And yet you still get pissy when you get beaten by a carnival game.”

Mat glared at him from over his shoulder, not faltering in his steps as he shot his cackling friend a look. “It doesn’t beat me—”

Beau snorted, giving the boy a fond shove as he pushed his way through the crowd to catch up until they were shoulder-to-shoulder again. “Dude, it’s a stupid game that you try every single time. And you fail every time.”

“It’s rigged,” Mat huffed.

“Yeah, that’s the whole fucking point,” Beau deadpanned. “They are all rigged.”

“But I’ve beaten them all,” Mat whined, sounding young and bratty. “The ring toss is rigged more. It’s made to torture one’s mind—”

“Your mind.”

“—until they are driven insane and haunted by those stupid rings,” he continued to grumble, muttering an apology after he almost walked straight into a lady pushing a stroller.

“All for an arcade ring,” Beau mused, shaking his head. “Dude, you need to let it go.”

Mat turned to glare at the boy. “No. I have won every single one of these stupid games. I am gonna win this one too.”

Beau opened his mouth. “Mat, dude—”

“And I am gonna get that stupid ring and I will wear it every single day of my—”

The noise that left his mouth cut him short, something between a scream and squeak of surprise as he found his body hitting someone else instead of the clear path down the pier like he had assumed. He managed to stay on his feet, considering he was a six foot hockey player whose job revolved around being slammed into by other six foot hockey players.

His victim? Not so much.

“Fuck.”

It came out like a wheezed, as though the person was winded. Mat quickly spun around, the apologies already leaving his lips as he offered his hand out before he even took a look at the person he accidentally knocked over. And when he did, the apologies died on his tongue as he stared at you, his expression stuck between awe and something else that Beau would spend the better part of the next few years teasing him for.

“Do you even watch where you are going?”

“Yeah,” Mat replied dumbly, staring at you like he was lost in a daze.

“Clearly not,” you murmured but still took his hand, giving him an odd look when it took longer than a few seconds before he realised and helped you up.

“I’m Mat,” he blurted out before he even let go of your hand. “And I’m sorry.”

Your lips twitched. “I accept your apology, Mat.”

“And your name?” He asked, not even trying to be subtle about it (if Beau’s snort was anything to go by).

Mat feld winded himself when you smiled as you told him your name.

…

February 2022

“So, let me get this straight.”

“I am tired of repeating myself.”

“You’re taking her out on Valentine’s Day—”

“Not for Valentine’s Day!”

“Yeah, sorry, my bad. You are taking your friend who you are desperately in love with out on Valentine's Day. How silly of me to take that the wrong way.”

Mat rolled his eyes, even if Beau couldn’t currently see him. He tucked his free hand into his jacket pocket, the other one curled around his phone as his eyes continued to wander over the pink and red decorations dotted all over the place. It made his nose scrunch up.

“It was the only day we both had free,” Mat insisted, his cheeks tinting pink for a whole different reason other than the cold, nipping weather of winter in New York.

“No denial about the ‘in love’ part.”

“Shut up,” he gritted through clenched teeth, as if anyone else could hear Beau except him.

“It’s just a little pathetic—”

“I didn’t ask,” Mat deadpanned, trying to ignore how hot his face now felt. “I don’t even know why I called you.”

“Because you needed a pep talk to finally make a move.”

“I’m hanging up now,” Mat grumbled, ignoring whatever protests he received on the other side as he quickly pressed the red button before shoving his phone into his pocket with a huff. He was so lost in muttering to himself under his breath that he hadn’t noticed you approaching.

“Woah,” you laughed, hands up in mock defence at the way he jumped out of his skin. “You good?”

“Yeah, I just—” He waved it off, an easy and genuine smile on his lips as he took in the way you were bundled up, an Islanders scarf around your neck. “Ready to have your ass kicked?”

Your lips twitched. “Ready to cry over the ring toss again?”

He did not, in fact, cry over the ring toss but he was undoubtedly grumpy by the time the two of you settled down on one of the benches looking out towards the beach, huffing as he took an aggressive bite from the pretzel that definitely didn’t fit his diet plan.

“C’mon,” you laughed, nudging your shoulder against his. “It’s just a game.”

“It’s a stupid game,” Mat retorted.

“Beau was right, you take it way too seriously,” you commented, playful and lighthearted with a gleam in your eyes. Like you were so unaware that the comfort you shared with his friends made his chest tighten in the best way possible.

“You have a little—” He cut himself off, gesturing to the side of your lip.

Your brows furrowed, your thumb attempting to swipe the brown sugar away just to miss completely. “Did I get it?”

“No, I—here, let me,” Mat murmured, reaching over to gently swipe the brown sugar away. But his thumb lingered, his eyes locked on your lips before glancing up at you. He waited for you to pull away but you just stared back.

For a moment, Mat wondered if you were going to suddenly pull away and pretend the small moment never happened.

For a moment, Mat’s stomach dropped at the thought this would be as far as he got with you.

And then you were leaning forward, your lips pressed against his and the pretzels long forgotten.

His body reacted faster than his brain did, kissing you back as the sweet taste of cinnamon and sugar overwhelmed him. The pretzel was left on the bench between you, his hands cupping your face as he sunk into the kiss, as he sunk into your embrace.

And only when you pulled back to smile at him did his brain seem to realise what had just happened.

And only then did he grin right back at you.

…

May 2022

“God, hockey is brutal.”

Mat paused, raising his brows. “Just realised that?”

“Sorry, I know you didn’t want to talk about hockey after—” You cut yourself off, wincing a little as you stood in his kitchen, just dressed in one of his shirts (ironically, an Islanders one with the number thirteen above your heart) with a mug of coffee in hand. “Ignore me. Watch the eggs don’t burn.”

Mat snorted. “What has made you realise hockey is so brutal?”

“Just kinda thinking about it,” you shrugged, your gaze on the rim of your mug rather than his face. It made him frown a little. “Like, I know it’s a part of the sport but, fuck, all it takes is one bad hit and—”

“Woah, hey,” Mat’s frown deepened as he reached for you, the stove turned off, the eggs forgotten and his hand reaching to place the coffee mug on the counter. He took your face in his hands, his thumbs smoothing over the apples of your cheeks.

“Sorry,” you laughed, but it sounded a bit wet and weak to his ears. He tilted your head up, his lips pressed together when he noticed how glossy your eyes were. “I guess I just never realised how brutal the sport was until I met you. And you guys play through so many injuries and I know your season is over now but the idea of you pushing yourself even more is just—”

“Come back home with me.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Come back home with me for the summer,” Mat repeated, a soft smile on his lips.

You blinked again, your confusion only growing. “Did you not just hear me—”

“I did,” Mat interrupted, nodding his head with the look of adoration still written plainly across his face. “And all I could think was, ‘wow, how lucky am I to have this amazing girl care about me so much’ and I just…I am lucky. So lucky. And I wanna show other people how lucky I am. I want to show my family how lucky I am.”

Your face softened. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mat murmured. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered before leaning in, a soft and lingering kiss left on his lips before you pulled back. “And I’m lucky you care about me too.”

“I’m really glad I bumped into you that day in Coney Island,” Mat confessed, something warm and comforting bubbling in his stomach at the sight of your smile.

“Yeah, me too,” you hummed, a glint of mischief in your eyes. “And I love you even if you can’t win the ring toss—”

Mat groaned, his head dropping to the crook of your neck. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

…

March 2023

“You don’t have to hide it from me.”

Mat blinked, his thoughts torn away from him as he turned to find you settling down onto the bench next to him, two pretzels in your hand. He murmured a small ‘thanks’ as he took one of the pretzels from you, staring at the sugary cinnamon sticks with little appetite.

“Hide what?” Mat asked.

“Mat,” you said his name in a way that made his chest tighten, so soft and gentle, like he was some scared animal you were slowly approaching. “Baby, I know you miss him. You don’t have to pretend.”

His eyes dropped back to the pretzel in his hands.

Because it was true. He did miss Beau. He missed Beau more than he cared to admit. And it was stupid because he knew this was how hockey worked, he had friends traded and sent away multiple times before. It was a part of the sport.

But he just didn’t think it would ever hurt this bad, even weeks after the trade had happened. His focus should have been the season and the playoffs approaching. He should have been focused on the team.

But every time he went on the ice, he couldn’t help but feel like a part of him was missing when he lifted his head and didn’t see Beau there, ready to accept his pass.

“There was this small part of me that just thought—” Mat paused, letting out a heavy sigh. “That we would be on the same team forever, you know? That it would always be me and him. That we would win the Cup together and…yeah.”

“I know,” you whispered, soft and soothing as you placed your head on his shoulder and let him lean his head against yours. “You never know. You two will find your way back to each other.”

His lips twitched into a sad smile. “Maybe.”

“You were always meant to find each other in this life,” you told him, sounding so sincere and genuine over the distant cheers and screams and buzzing noise of the amusement park behind you. “Just because you don’t live minutes away anymore, doesn’t mean that ends. He is always gonna be there for you, just like I am.”

Mat pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Thank you.”

“Always, Mat. Always.”

…

July 2023

“Home, sweet home!”

Mat winced a little as his voice echoed through the empty apartment, the walls bare and the place a little dusty. But it was yours and it made it perfect, it made the keys in his hand feel heavier and more special than his last set.

“Fuck, we have so much to unpack,” you commented but you sounded happy. You both did, despite the state of exhaustion the last few days left you, attempting to pack up both of your apartments and moving into your new shared place.

“That is a later problem,” Mat waved you off, reaching towards you so he could wind his arms around your waist and pull you closer. “We have a mattress and takeout menus, what else do we need?”

“Preferably some sheets,” you teased, not even attempting to pull yourself out of his hold. You were content exactly where you were. “I’m, like, ninety percent sure you put them in the wrong box.”

“Blame the pretty one,” Mat huffed, cackling when you playfully pinched his hip. “Kidding, baby, you’re obviously the pretty one in the relationship.”

“We can both be pretty,” you rolled your eyes before laying your head on his chest, smiling when you felt him lean his chin on top. “Can’t wait to make this place ours.”

“It’s gonna be so pretty so it can match us,” Mat murmured, grinning when you laughed in response.

“It looks so plain right now, it’s freaky,” you commented, half-hearted with no real heaviness to your words. It would take a few days for you both to make it feel homely and you were looking forward to it.

But Mat was already untangling himself from your hold, grinning as he began tugging you towards the kitchen. “We can put our first proper decoration up!”

Your brows furrowed together in confusion. “What? But the boxes are—”

You cut yourself off as you watched Mat reach into the pocket of his sweatpants, grinning widely as he pulled out a small magenet and slapped it on the middle of the very bland fridge. He looked at the magnet with great pride before turning to you, his smile only growing.

You let out a laugh at the sight of the Coney Island magnet on the fridge. “Perfect.”

“Our first home,” Mat grinned, pulling you back in so he could smack a kiss on your lips. “The first of many.”

“I’m not moving for at least another few years,” you joked, smiling against his lips. “This whole thing was exhausting.”

“As long as it’s with you, I don’t really care.”

…

January 2024

“I need your help.”

“Oh god, what have you done?”

Mat frowned at his phone for a moment, forgetting about the bundling nerves that had left him on edge for the last week. He was sure you were starting to pick up on it, even if you hadn’t mentioned as much—thankfully. But after a week of waiting, he finally had the perfect opportunity to call his sister whilst you were out of the house.

“I have done nothing. Yet.”

His sister sighed. “Mathew—”

“No full names needed,” he murmured, his cheeks burning as he leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling with determination that was quickly dwindling the longer the call went on. “I just…I need your help.”

“With?”

“A ring.”

His frown deepened when Liana laughed. “If this is about that arcade game Beau told me about—”

“What? No,” he sighed, his blush only deepening. “I need help picking a ring. A real ring. An engagement ring.”

His sister was silent for a few moments before she spoke. “Holy shit. You’re really gonna do it?”

Mat couldn’t even bite back his smile. “I want to. This summer, maybe. But I need a ring and I was thinking you could help while we’re up for All Stars and—”

“Sold. Done. I’m not letting you pick an ugly ring for my future sister-in-law.”

“She might still say no,” Mat reminded her, even if his stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought.

“Of course she won’t,” Liana retorted, sounding so confident that Mat almost wanted to believe her wholeheartedly. “Especially if you let me help pick a ring.”

Mat pressed his lips together. “I really want to find the perfect ring.”

“We will. She is going to love it, Mat. She is going to say yes.”

“Good,” he murmured, grinning. “Because she’s it for me. She’s the only person I wanna give a ring to.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“Shut up.”

…

October 2024

He couldn’t even remember what started the argument.

If he was being honest, the tension had been brewing for a while. It had been a combination of things and none of them had made the atmosphere around the apartment much better. Small, silly things that shouldn’t have been that bad but felt like the end of the world as they were thrown at you both, one after the other.

Mat knew it was bad.

He just didn’t think it was this bad.

It felt like the two of you had been at it for hours, and maybe you had. He couldn’t tell anymore, he didn’t know if it had been minutes or hours the two of you had stood on opposite sides of the living room, yelling and screaming and crying. It all felt too much, like it was getting bigger and bigger, just waiting to pop.

And then it fucking did.

“I-I can’t do this anymore.”

And Mat felt like a deflating balloon, the air escaping his lungs as he found himself staring at you, his mouth unable to voice any of the thoughts he wanted to say.

“Maybe,” you let out a bitter laugh, pained and hurt and weak. “Maybe we just aren’t forever, Mat. Maybe you’re not ready to let anything but hockey be your forever.”

And you were wrong.

Deep down, Mat knew you were wrong and his brain was screaming for him to tell you just how wrong you were. Because the fight had escalated and spun out of control and he should have grabbed the wheel with both hands to stabilise you both.

But he was hurt and he was petty and he felt his mouth saying the exact opposite of how he felt.

“Maybe you’re right.”

The way your whole body deflated and your face fell would haunt his nightmares for nights to come, along with the sound of the apartment door slamming shut as you left and never looked back.

…

Present – November 2024

Once upon a time, the biggest challenge Coney Island provided him was the damn ring toss game. It had been like that for years.

But now, he sat on the bench, the plastic ring between his fingers feeling as heavy as the other ring in his pocket. He didn’t feel victorious, he didn’t feel anything but emptiness. Because neither ring meant anything when he was here alone, when he had failed to give you both.

The ring toss was barely a challenge compared to returning to this damn bench almost every day since he had pulled from the lineup with an injury that just felt like a mockery on top of everything else.

But he did it. He came back every single day because it hurt and he deserved it. He deserved to sit there and think about just what he lost. Because he had no idea where you were, he hadn’t heard a single word from you—not even Beau would tell him if he had heard from you.

Mat had let pride and something else just as stupid get in the way of his forever.

The least he could do was bear the cold, winter weather on that stupid bench until his fingers were too damn numb to hold the stupid arcade ring.

The least he could do was spend the rest of his days wondering if there was a universe where things were different, where he still had you, where he was able to see you one more time.

The least he could do was let his own thoughts about losing you forever haunt him.

The least he could do was hope the universe would give him one more fucking chance to fix everything with you, to at least give you the stupid arcade ring he once promised he would win for you.

The least he could do was apologise for not making you his centrefold like he knew you deserved.

Mat stared down at the phone in his hand, pressing your contact before he could talk himself out of it. He had to try. For you, for him, for the forever he knew you two could have.

He had to try.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Hello?”

#eras tour fic challenge #mat barzal #nhl #new york islanders #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal x y/n #mat barzal fic #mat barzal oneshot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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mistywaves98 · 10 months ago

Note

Delinquent reader getting her brains fucked by councilprez!Scara? Degrading, spanking, bjs, over the desk and bodyworship?

And ong, please!! Bonus if they're step siblings for just that extra, unnecessary spice. Please, please, please? 🙉❤️

The stepcest got my stomach twisting like-?? Though tbh I'm not too confident abt this one... Long fics aren't really my strong point 😭

✧･ﾟ:* ->Student Council President! Scara x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: NSFW, Stepcest, Degradation, Slight praise, Spanking, Blowjob, Mean!/Sadistic! Scara, Body worship if you squint!

Did you really think that you could get away with your usual mischief just because you were related to the president of the student council? Well, yeah...no. Not after you've found yourself in this position — on your knees of the empty classroom, choking on the president's dick. Scaramouche couldn't keep the sadistic smile off his face as he roughly fucked your poor throat with his girthy length. Your jaw was sore, your oesophagus even more so from the way he used your mouth like a fleshlight.

You couldn't stop gagging everytime the tip hit the back of your throat, making you grab his thighs to steady yourself as tears streamed down your face,"Aww, what's the matter? Don't tell me your mouth hurts already, I was hoping to cum down your throat a couple times. Oh well, guess once will have to do...Open wide." His tone feigned sadness, but expression said otherwise. Scaramouche's eyes glinted with malice as he pulled you off his cock, groaning as he allowed his gooey cum to splatter all over your face, making you wince in response. He then takes a hand and runs it along your cheek, collecting his cum on his fingers only to shove them into your mouth.

And like the obedient little sister you are, you stuck your tongue out and accepted every drop before swallowing the bitter essence. You certainly looked a mess now, the lower half of your face dripping with the evidence of his climax as well as the red puffiness of your cheeks from crying. Scaramouche pats your head, the gesture more condescending than uplifting, "Good girl. At least you're not totally brain dead. But you still need to be punished for all those violations.."

Now you find yourself pulled up from the floor, laid across his lap. You squirm, legs kicking slightly before tensing as he flips up the back of your skirt,"S-scara? What are y—!!" A sharp smack to your ass cuts you off as you yelp, holding your tongue as your face flushes. "Tch, what a whore I have for a sister... Walking around with a skirt that barely covers your ass. That also goes against the dress code, y'know." Though you can already feel his dick getting stiff as he says that, the hardness pressing uncomfortably against your stomach.

Scaramouche takes his time to admire your body from this angle, running a finger from the base of your neck, moving down your spine to the top of your skirt, feeling you, shudder from the sensation. His eyes trail down to the area between your legs, watching as the fabric of your panties clings to the drooling folds of your pussy and he decides to use this to taunt you some more,"Hah! Are you really this worked up right now? All from sucking my dick... Guess you like this more than you're letting on. You love getting treated like a bag of holes by your stepbrother, don't you, you dirty bitch."

As much as you didn't want to admit it, he was right and the way he was calling you out was making you wetter by the second. Your step brother noticed it too, and smirked at the sight before suddenly grabbing the waistband of your panties. His eyes narrowed as he yanked it up and forwards a bit, eliciting another yelp from you as the fabric gets caught between your ass cheeks. The sensation is rather painful, as he intended, making you whimper as your face burns with humiliation.

"There, that's better. Now I can get a proper view of this ass in all its plush glory. Look at it, just begging to be spanked!" He laughed at his own words, enjoying every minute of your dilemma as he runs a hand over the smooth skin, giving it a periodic squeeze. When he's had his fill, he lifts it and reels it back. A loud smack! resounds throughout the classroom as his palm comes into contact with your ass. He's unforgiving, using as much force as possible to maximize your pain reception.

The tears are quick to flow, dripping onto the floor as your body lurches forward with each spank. Scaramouche suddenly lifts his left knee a bit propping his foot up with the assistance of a nearby chair. This slight change lifts your ass higher in the air, forcing your back into an arch as he continues his ruthless punishment. You wail and plead, arms flailing as you try to convince him to let up even a little bit but it's all in vain. His palm simply comes down to press between your shoulder blades to hold you in place as your step brother remains hellbent on tormenting you like this.

Your cries accompanied with the smacks echo throughout the otherwise quiet classroom. Considering it's after school hours, there's no one that would hear the two of you, except perhaps the janitor but they wouldn't dare interrupt such a scene. smack! smack! smack! The pain is searing by now, and you're quite positive that you're not going to be able to sit properly for a while after this. It's only when the flesh is red and raw that Scaramouche decides it's enough.

Even after his hand retreats you can still feel the sting, jolting as it comes back down to rub the irritated skin. The other one moves to grab the sides of your face, pulling your head back to look up at him as he coos at your pitiful state,"What a sight you are... Spanked nice and raw f'me. Heh, you should be grateful that I didn't make you count every single hit." His thumb pries your mouth open, pressing down on your tongue to reveal your used throat,"I definitely would've, if I hadn't fucked your mouth so thoroughly..."

"Are we...are we done..?" You manage to croak out as he removes the finger, voice hoarse and a bit muffled from the grip on your face as you desperately hope he'll give you a break. That hope is swiftly shattered when he merely cackles, the sadistic glint in his eyes ever present as his shoulders shake with laughter,"Haha! You thought I was done with you? Oh, no no, my dear step-sis, we've barely reached the fun part yet.." Dread pools in the pit of your stomach as he changes your position for the second time.

This time your upper half is pushed against the teacher's desk, breasts smushed against the hard surface as your lower half hangs off the edge. Scaramouche eagerly discards your skirt and then your underwear, pocketing the latter for personal use as he fixates on your bare pussy. Your step brother bites his lip, trailing a finger down your drooling slit before using his index and middle to push apart your folds and reveal your clenching hole to him,"Shit...she's fucking gorgeous... S' pretty and just asking to be filled. Can't believe you've been hiding all this from me, huh sis?"

He lifts his head to look at your face, and you avert your gaze, cheeks burning as he simply chuckles at your shyness. Though as much as he'd love to stare some more, his cock was already hard and aching for some more relief. A choked whimper slips out of you as he lines himself up with your entrance and abruptly shoves himself inside you, giving you no time to adjust as he bottoms out immediately. Scaramouche grunts as he feels your walls stretching to accommodate him, loving the feeling of your tight cunt around his cock.

"Hnn...Oh, God— Your pussy's so damn tight... Squeezing me so nicely...So wet too, I knew you were enjoying that spanking, fucking slut.." His hands come down on either side of your torso, pressing against the table for leverage as he begins to thrust. He picks up a rhythm, going hard and deep with reasonably paced strokes. Your nails scratch the smooth wood of the table, moans keening from your aching throat as his tip kisses your cervix every time he pushes back in. It doesn't help that his hips are snapping against your sore ass with each thrust, making you wince when they flush against yours. Your legs struggle to support you, trembling as his cock splits you apart.

All this back to back stimulation has rendered your body incredibly sensitive and you already find yourself teetering near the edge of release,"A-ahn...! S-...Scara...hnn! 'm gonna...gonna cum—!" Scaramouche feels his dick twitch as he hears that, gradually increasing the speed of his thrusts as he becomes set on making you coat his dick in your creamy essence. "Then cum f'me, wanna feel your slutty pussy squirt around my cock..." Well that was all you needed to hear, eyes rolling to back of your skull as you came with a squeal of ecstasy.

Scaramouche moaned as he felt your walls flutter around him, your cum creating a translucent ring around the base of his shaft. He didn't stop thrusting, helping you ride out your high as his body chased release of its own. His hands came down to grasp your hips, using it as leverage to drill his cock into you as a wild pace, strangled whimpers leaving your parted lips,"Nghh... Fuck, you looked so pretty cummin' around my dick like that..."

"But we're not done yet, so brace yourself..."

#x reader smut #smut #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader smut #genshin impact #✧･ﾟ:* meena's memos! ✧･ﾟ:*#scaramouche x reader smut #scara smut #scara x reader smut #scaramouche smut

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illshakeyouallnightlong-dean · 3 months ago

Text

Take Me To The Sun (Rewritten)

I know everything. The things beyond weapons drops across the border. And yet I stay quiet. Until I can't. Being a marked one, being a friend of Xaden Riorson doesn't mean I am granted unfiltered access to information of what goes on beyond Navarre's walls. But it should when lives are lost and rules change. My compassion doesn't make me weak. My dragon chose me. I am meant for more.

A/N: This fic is updated on my AO3 as well. Here. Happy Reading! Gonna try to update once or twice a week but as you know, life happens so we'll see! xoxo K

The quadrant is in chaos.

Finding out who is alive, who we all lost - it’s a mess. The only thing I can focus on, however, is the fact that they aren’t back.

He isn’t back.

I wish I could comfort you, flare. Rathnait whispers to me in the library of my mind. For a brief moment, guilt consumes me. Gripping my throat with the threat of tears and a scream. A failure of a rider - not able to even give her a reprieve from the onslaught of my emotions. That she must feel it all with me down our bad.

A low growl as she narrows those golden eyes of her’s at me. Talons tick nervously on the flight field, vigilant over my every move and breath. All I can do is stare at my dragon vacantly. Streaks of dark copper highlighted her grace, her beauty - running down the length of her neck and down each of her legs. Rathnait was a sight to behold, and I was only grateful to be considered worthy to be hers. Her scarlet colored scales glistened in the setting sun, as if mirroring the sun itself in all its bright glory. Her swordtail flicked in the air back and forth, as if it were involuntary. We must not get ahead of ourselves, you would feel it if something happened to him. Don’t you dare assume what I can and can’t handle. Shutting me out only hurts you in the end.

My shaky hands outstretch, desperation to run them against the warmth of her scales. Her nose to my chest, needing to feel the steadiness of her breath on my clammy self. She nudges me gently, trying all she can to ground my spiraling thoughts.

How could this be happening? How did it come to this? All that will be left is bitter words and unspoken longing for a man who didn’t choose me.

“Xaden is already bending the rules with bringing Violet along, I can’t ask him to risk your well being as well,” Garrick murmurs in my ear as we watch the tense showdown between Dain and Xaden. Ignoring the sting in my chest is a feat itself, having to wrinkle my nose to rid myself of the tears that threaten to fall.

“You're not even gonna try, after everything? You just expect me to watch you go? You’ve been keeping secrets, Garrick. This seems like part of one of them.” Stepping away from his hold, the warmth long gone from the two of us. My desire to punch him, to yell at him at the very least - gods why doesn’t he ever choose me?

Rathnait glowers at both Garrick and Chradh, his brown scorpion tail - the irritation evident in her golden gaze. Unrelenting. Every tone, every unsaid word she analyzes and catalogues. Watching me get hurt right before her very eyes, and not in a physical way is something she doesn’t stand for. Teeth as sharp as steel snap towards Chradh, the brown dragon pulls away in shock towards the obvious display of aggression. Garrick’s jaw shuts and clenches at the show the dragons are putting on, his ever composed features faltering at the anguish I knew he could see in my eyes, could hear in my voice.

Just say the word, flare. I’ll teach him to treat you with more care. Rathnait snarls at Chradh as he tries to nudge her affectionately. I don’t want to put her in an uncomfortable position, to push away her growing care for Chradh. You let me worry about that. Chradh knows you are the one I chose, the one I will always look out for.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish we had time to talk more, but right now I would rather know you’re safe with the rest of your squad. Your anger towards me is worth it if I am guaranteed your survival,” I watch as he makes sure his flight gloves are secure, flexing them before flickering those earth toned eyes towards me. My heart cracks a little bit more - all I want to do is scream. To shove him and get him to see that this is hurting me, is crushing me. How much more can I let slide? How much more can I take?

“And what about you? What if you don’t come back?” The very thought is enough to have my knees lock and heart stutter.

Xaden and Violet make their way towards their dragons. Squads have begun to launch to their respective posts. Dain and I are being waited upon by Second Squad.

“I’ve survived too much to lose now. I’ll be back and we can talk - I’ll tell you everything,” Garrick promises, stepping forward to plant a soft kiss on my temple. Clutching his flight jacket, I can’t help it as tears fall down my cheeks.

“It seems like you might lose me though.”

Turning around to follow my squad leader, ignoring the curses from Garrick, ignoring the way in which my squad watches me with grimaces and pity. All for fucking War Games, all for nothing. Being co-section leader means nothing to me, Dain can be in charge for all I care. Steps that feel like bricks on my feet, it’s all the energy I can muster towards the group, needing the familiar, needing their constant. Ridoc opens his arms, bringing me in for a brief tight embrace. Sawyer offers a wavering smile.

“Are you gonna be ok?” Rhiannon softly asks, wiping my wet cheeks with her hands. A shaky smile graces my lips, hands busy with making sure my own flight jacket and gloves are secure. It takes everything in me to not watch Garrick and Chradh take to the sky, having to believe that he’ll be ok, it’s all that I can allow myself to think of.

Xaden didn’t even glance my way, Imogen or Bodhi - no one. As if the rest of the marked one’s had decided together who should and shouldn’t go. Guess I made the cut. My own relic curved over my fingers and wrist - briefly burning as if answering to my very thoughts.

“Let’s go get this over with.” Quickly scaling up Rathnait, she chuffs at me, making sure I’m secure in my seat. Let’s go flying, Ray. Take me towards the sun. Sending my devotion to her down our bond. She launches quickly, wings flaring gloriously. The rest of the squad is quick to follow.

I’ll always make sure you’re near it, flare. The light will never die in you, not even from this pain.

At least she always chooses me.

It’s been 10 days. 10 days of agony.

I’m the only third year left.

Expected to carry on my co-section leader responsibilities as if the absence of Garrick is a minor inconvenience. The early sun rises with a flourish of pinks, reds and oranges and all I can do is relish in this fleeting moment of peace.

No one seems to care or notice that they aren’t back yet. My only anchor, my only comfort is from that of my dragon. Spending many hours against the curve of her back, staring up at the sky in hopes of seeing or hearing familiar dragons, of hearings wings. When I’m not near her, our bond is wide open. The familiar fire red tether in my mind ablaze with every thought and emotion that runs through us. A warmth of what I could only describe as security floods down the bond.

We can’t worry about things that haven’t been confirmed yet, flare. She knows my true questions, the things that I can’t bring myself to ask or think about. You must think about today, where we will go.

Graduation day.

Today would be the day we’ve been waiting for since entering this school, assignments to outposts were being given, and by this evening I would be gone, my journey at Basgaith over. Turning away from the river, I make my trek towards the flight field. The few third years left of this school congregate, awaiting as Colonel Aetos and Commandant Pancheck begin the assignments.

“Congrats on graduating, Section Leader. It is a shame that Wingleader Riorson and Section Leader Tavis aren’t here to accompany you.” Colonel Aetos nearly sneers at the mention of Xaden. The obvious disdain is unsettling as he rifles through different papers. “Ah yes, your assignment. Due to your signet and the savagery of your red swordtail - you’re being assigned to the eastern wing…specifically, Samara.” The grin directed at me is maniacal, a joke I’m not privy too, a dare. Rathnait snarls in my mind, unbridled rage igniting the very blood in my veins - but all I can do is take the papers from his hand, saluting in acknowledgement and walking away.

Where are you, Ray? Hands tremble, the crinkling of paper beneath slender hands is all I can focus on as I sprint towards my room. Can’t be out in the open, can’t let them see, can’t let anyone see what will surely be my own falling apart. My own demise.

You will not fall apart. An outpost is just a different place, as if you haven’t endured years of people hating the very ground you stand on. As if you haven’t been bonded to me.

I make it to the middle of an empty hall that leads towards our sleeping quarters, knowing in a matter of moments the rest of the cadets will be awake to get into formation. Pressing the heels of my hand into my eyes, I can’t help but rest my back against the cool stone behind me. My own body feeling as if it had everything sucked out of me, the very air I breath feels strained.

Samara is the front line. Trying to get the ever rising beat of my heart under control, I must not panic. I am a rider. I am Rathnait’s rider.

Are you afraid, flare? I shudder at her question, not wanting to admit the fear, the panic. But I know that she can feel everything, hear all that I think.

They aren’t here. He isn’t here. A whimper escapes my lips, the reality of it all just crashing down like rubble. I will be going to Samara, there is no avoiding it, there is no changing it. While I had spent years trying to survive Basgaith, I would be sent to one of the most active posts in the region.

“Section Leader? Ar-are you ok?” Dain Aetos stands before me, hands out as if approaching a scared animal. “We need to get to formation.”

I don't hate the kid, knowing that following the straight and narrow path is the life that is meant for some people over others. However, that doesn’t mean I want him to see me having a mental breakdown. Giving him a small nod, I manage to get myself to stand before fully looking at the Squad Leader.

Something’s wrong. My own senses are beginning to go haywire. My signet. Only Xaden and Garrick knew. Command and Basgaith are under a different impression as to what it is. None of the other marked ones knew either. The manipulation and detection of emotions however was a daily venture, there was no turning it off, there was only controlling it and living with it and right now Dain Aetos was a mess.

“I would ask you the same thing, what’s wrong?” Dusting off my flight leathers. I don’t miss the way he flinches at my question, his hesitancy. “Do I have to give an order to know?” Glowering at him - I am still a section leader.

Taking a deep breath, he stands tall despite the sorrow in his eyes, “Xaden and the rest of the squad he took with him are being declared dead at formation.” I startle myself at the immediate sob that escapes my lips. My body has accepted what my mind cannot. “Leadership has been looking and there is no sign of them.” Feeling the agony of his own loss, it feels as if a tidal wave has pulled me under. The roaring from Rathnait in my brain feels as if it will explode any second. Dain’s grief, his regret all barrel into me with no filter, no shield. Rathnait’s confusion and rage down the bond. My own sorrow, my own heartbreak. There is no stopping it. There just is feeling it. Unaware of the stream of tears that roll down my face, the taste of salt jolts me out of the shock, the horror.

“Round up everyone, squad leader. I’ll be at formation in a moment.” My voice doesn’t feel like my own, the assignment papers feeling like large weights in my hand. He turns away to head towards the Quadrant, “Dain,” I call out, sounding like a garbled mess. “Thank you for telling me.” His own eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods.

My flare. I hear her call out, though to reach out seems like so much energy, all I can do is let her in with no barriers, allowing her to be there in the comfort of my mind. I’m coming, flare.

Standing at the bottom of the stone dias. Everyone in formation, I don’t bother to look around. There is no one here to look for anymore. There is no Wingleader, there is no co-section leader - there is just me alone at the front.

We don’t even have our leader. What hope is there for the revolution? Rathnait has no answer for me.

To look at my squad is the last thing I am able to do, not being able to endure their unsaid questions. Answers? I had none. Being known for being put together, not a hair out of place, no rumpled leathers, no dirt unless necessary was once a pride and pleasure I reveled in. I’m sure the current state of me was a shock. Strands of hair fell in front of my face, eyes dry and cheeks raw from the tears.

Captain Fitzgibbons overlooks formation, reading off the death roll. “Violet Sorrengail.” A moment of silence as all eyes look to the stoic face of General Sorrengail. “Garrick Tavis.” My heart feels as if it bleeds on the very floor I'm standing on, flinching harshly at the reading of his name. “And Xaden Riorson.” Captain Fitzgibbon’s voice rings out echoing around the quadrant.

“Well this is awkward,” a voice calls out. Gasps are heard around the quadrant, even command seems unsettled by what’s happening. My knees seem to be locked in place, unable to turn around and see what is going on. My breaths turn into small gasps of air - no no no it can’t be, I’m dreaming. Dain said. I need to wake up. Heavy footsteps approach behind me, and two individuals take up position on either side of me. A calloused hand brushes against my own.

Angry steps make their way towards the leaders seated at the dias. Xaden Riorson commands the very space, as if he were part of leadership. Violet Sorrengail makes her stand next to me, and the presence of the person on the right of me is one I can’t pay attention to - no matter how badly I want to turn and look, no matter how badly I want to cry. Colonel Aetos is furious, cheeks flushed and furrowed brows do no favors as General Sorrengail questions everything that has been happening since the start of War Games. All directed towards the fumbling Colonel and Xaden.

“I was directed to take a squad beyond the wards to Athebyne and form the headquarters for Fourth Wing’s War Games, and I did so. We stopped to rest our riot at the nearest lake past the wards, and we were attacked by gryphons.” Xaden states, fists at his side as he looks at both General Sorrengail and Colonel Aetos. “It was a surprise attack, and they caught Deigh and Fuil unaware.” He pivots slightly, telling the wing the rest of what we don’t know. “They were dead before they ever had a chance.” My Wingleader looks at my briefly for the first time in what seems like years, for a moment there is a crack in his ever perfect expression.

I must have blinked, I must’ve staggered. My knees crash against the hard floor for a moment before arms reach themselves around my waist to hoist me up. We lost Liam? We lost Soleil? Unable to hear anything other than the rushing of my own blood through my very veins, the beat of my heart as if it were to come out of my chest. Violet flits her hands around my face, her mouth moving but for the life of me I don’t know what she’s saying.

Liam was so good. Too good. And just like that he is gone?

“And we almost lost Sorrengail.”

Violet’s eyes widen as she takes in the horror in my eyes. My friends were in trouble and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there. Tears blur my vision, and all I can do is breathe through the rattling in my chest.

I will never forgive you. Pushing the thought towards Xaden. Watching as his spine stiffens, for a brief moment the hurt is detectable in those onyx depths, but in a blink it vanishes.

“Breathe,” a warm voice whispers against my ear, “ Or you’ll pass out.” The emotions of everyone in the quadrant are too much. However, Garrick Tavis’ were always those of beacons to me - I was nothing more than a boat lost at sea in this very moment. And yet how do I differentiate between him and me and our emotions when all this time I thought he was dead? I thought he was never to come back? How do I ever look at him the same way after leaving me behind? “Let go of me,” shrugging myself out of his hold, I get back into proper formation. Violet watches warily, unsure of what to do. “Go help our Wingleader, Cadet Sorrengail.” Anguish flickers from her emotional tether, being dismissed was something she didn’t think I would ever do to her. To treat her as a lesser. However, in this very moment, the very reality I have endured through seems pointless. There is no belonging to the marked one’s or to a cause or to the protection of Violet and Xaden. There is nothing but the chasm in my chest at every word being revealed, at every tether holding loss and grief. And the worst part of it all is that in a matter of less than 12 hours none of this will matter, Basgiath won’t matter - I will be long gone, a new post, a new death sentence. Like always, being forced to move on.

Making myself numb is a simple yet effective aspect of my second signet. The dying of emotions is a strange and vacant liminal space in my mind. Gone are the bright hues within the library. The dimming of my own tether to Rathnait. The rest of questioning - I don’t bother with the insistent touching from Garrick as he tries to get my attention. I don’t bother with the few glances from Xaden, and unfortunately I can’t be open to the bond between Rathnait and I - my cruel humanity unable to withstand her words at this moment despite her numerous attempts of ramming against my shields. I know it isn’t her fault, this hurt and sense of loss that I feel - but I’d rather be alone.

With dismissal from command, Xaden and Violet get back into formation. There are words exchanged between them and Dain, but again why does any of it matter anymore? As Captain Fitzgibbons calls out the additional names to the amended death roll, there are no tears shed, there is only silence, deathly still silence. Commandant Panchek takes the stand and addresses what is left of the riders remaining. “Beyond military commendations, there are no words of praise for rider. Our reward for a job well done is living to see the next duty station, the next rank. In keep with our traditions and standards, those of you who have completed your third year will now be commissioned as lieutenants in the army of Navarre. Step forward when your name is called to receive your orders. You have until morning to depart for your new duty stations.”

The orders I received earlier feel like lead against my breast pocket. I had received mine earlier as a taunt, a warning since command had already believed that my Wingleader and his squad were dead. My duty station was punishment for whatever it was that Xaden and Garrick had been involved in, what they are still involved in.

“Garrick Tavis!” My heart feels like it lodges itself in my throat, as if it were to splatter all over the floor as I look at him, fully look at him for the first time in days as he strides towards the commandant. A new scar lines from his jaw to his temple, deep and red - fresh. His wide strong frame grabs the paper and lets out a breath as he reads the duty station he is assigned to before looking at me as he makes his way back to formation. For the first time, I note an emotion that is rare from him, from someone I have come to know as unwavering.

He’s scared. Garrick Tavis is afraid.

A resounding cheer goes up in the courtyard as we are dismissed from formation. Everyone has their new orders and I watch as Ridoc, Sawyer, Nadine and Violet gather each other into a hug. Liam should be here with them too, I can’t help but think. Soleil should be graduating with us. Violet tries to catch my gaze but I am not one for appeasing our lightening wielder tonight. A tall figure blocks my vision of the squad, and I know who it is without having to truly look up and see.

“Wingleader,” I nod, staring blankly across his shoulder. “What can I help you with?”

Xaden raises his hands as if to grip my shoulder, or Malek forbid, pull me into a hug. He must second guess himself though as he falters and his hand hangs limply at his side. “We need to talk, the three of us. And I’m no longer your Wingleader, we’re equals. We made it, flare.”

Whipping my gaze at him, lips pulled in a snarl. “Don’t. I was never your equal, I was someone who helped you all get away with whatever bullshit it is you’re doing. I was the scapegoat. I was the distraction.” With each word, rage bellows in my belly. My shields must be faltering between Rathnait and I, because I feel like decking him, hurting him. I don’t bother lowering my volume, all sense of decorum out the window as cadets make their way across the quadrant. “I’m not even your friend.”

Xaden flinches at that.

“That’s not fair, sweetheart,” A raspy deep voice comes from behind me, calloused hands attempt to grab my own. Ripping them out of his grasp, I can’t help but ram my elbow into his side, the sound of wheezing only slightly satisfying. Xaden attempts to help him but the glare I pin at him leaves him immobilized .

“What is not fair, sweetheart, is being left behind. Is not being there to help. Is not being trusted after everything I’ve told you out of faith!” Whirling around to face him, Garrick struggles to fully stand upright after my jab. “And now it doesn’t even matter. Excuse me, I have to go pack.”

Hurt. Regret. All that I can feel from the two shocked idiots.

****

Shutting me out isn’t the answer, flare. Rathnait snarls in my mind. There is nothing my dragon hates more than to be purposely shutout from me. If I can’t reach your during moments of distress, how can I help you?

Sometimes I don’t want help, Ray. Sometimes I just have to feel it. Folding the rest of my clothes and putting away what few belongings I do have, I’m able to rest for a moment on the bed. The wooden figurine of Rathnait sits on the window, all I can do is watch it.

Liam was so sweet. Eager to please, eager to excel - and training him was something that I actually found fun. He was the little brother I never had. Someone who could bring me back down from the emotional highs, someone who made me laugh when all Xaden and Garrick wanted to do was be serious. When he made the figurine of my dragon, Rathnait herself chuffed in amusement at how endearing she found Liam. He was just so filled with light that this hellhole had to swallow it up and take it away. It wasn’t fair.

A knock echoes throughout the empty room. Already knowing what is to come, I steel myself for the inevitable emotional onslaught. Adjusting my new officer flight leathers, I wave my finger to open the door, staying close to the window.

Both Garrick and Xaden are dressed in their new flight leathers as well. A pack and sleeping pad hitched over their shoulders. Remorse written all over their faces I don’t even have to use my signet for that.

“Is it ok if we talk in here?” Xaden asks. Yelling from the graduated cadets echo throughout the halls, celebration in all forms was everywhere tonight. Glancing away from their hesitant stares, the sound barrier shimmers slightly overhead as Xaden shuts the door. With a heavy, burdened sight, he slides against the door and sits on the floor, legs outstretched. It’s the least put together I’ve seen from him. Garrick sits on the bed, glancing at the wooden figurine with a wavering smile before glancing at me. I don’t make a move to sit by him, my arms cross as I lean against the window bay. No one says a word. The friendship the three of us had, seems like it teeters on the edge of the cliff. Well it seems like I’m the one starting this.

“I thought you were all dead. That all I had left was the memory of disagreeing with Garrick before War Games and watching my Wingleader not spare me a second glance as he makes his squad when I was meant to be a section leader as well.” Bland words escape me, trying to say something other than the yelling that I want to dish out to them. “And knowing I didn’t even get to see Liam before he -“ I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’ve never asked, Xaden. I’ve never demanded Garrick tell me when I could easily hold it against him as someone he supposedly cared a lot about-“

“Care.” Garrick interrupts. Leaving no room for argument. “I care a lot about you, sweetheart. More than that. Don’t blame Xaden when I am just as much a part of this as he is. Be mad at me too.” His hazel eyes blaze with a fight I know he’s aching for. To yank the deadened words from my lips with something fiery, something that feels like more. Garrick doesn’t know what he’s asking for.

“You don’t think I’m mad at you too? Tavis, I am furious. I am heartbroken. I was resigned to a life without you, and now?” Gasping for air, I pound my chest for some sort of relief from the tightness I feel. Garrick is quick to try and help me but I raise my hand, ordering him wordlessly to stay put.

“There are a lot of things I regret,” Xaden rasps, “You helped me, confided in me - and I didn’t do the same thing to you.”

“I was ready to fight alongside the two of you if you had told me to. I would meet Malek with honor. I may not be like you or Imogen or Bodhi - that everything I feel is so much and bleeds with every word I say or person I interact with - “

“No, flare that’s no-“

“You act like I’m not even a marked one. That I am not a part of what you all are planning. I’m kept in the shadows so that command never suspects you all. You asked me to help train Violet. You asked me to be a constant, to be unwavering. For what? To be forgotten?” With each question, my shouts echo throughout my bedroom. Neither of them are able to meet my eyes. “I would die for Aretia.” The whisper in to the space between us hits their mark. The full realization of what I know - the understanding, make it’s way across their expressions, their emotions. Xaden rakes his fingers through his hair, clutching it almost painfully. Garrick staggers slightly, holding himself up by clutching the bed post. “And now? It’s too late. I have my duty station. Basgaith is done. My journey here is done.”

I brush my signet along their emotional tethers, unable to break the habit of comforting them ever so slightly. Understanding that the two of them lost their brother, lost people that were a part of them. Garrick lets out a shaky laugh as he feels the familiar sensation of soothingness.

“H-How did you know about that?” Garrick questions, eyes finally roaming over me in disbelief.

“Did you not think I would know every time you would lie to me? That the drops you were making were all that you were doing? I don’t know anything else but the restoration of home, of our home? How could you not think I would defend that with every ounce of my life for you?”

“It was never because I didn’t trust you.” Xaden looks at me with a resolve I don’t understand. He gets up slowly, standing tall. “If anything it was because I didn’t want to chance losing someone else we all cared about to. We lost Liam and Soleil too easily. I lost them. I’m the one who is responsible for you all.”

Truth. Feeling his honesty. Feeling his belief.

“Flare, if were to lose someone like you, too? You’re glue, you’re binding. You’re a bridge. The same way that Violet is. You bring Navarre and Tyrrendor together with your compassion. With your grace and spirit. When others look at you, they don’t see a marked one. They see more.” A knuckle taps against his flight leather pants in agitation. "I took a chance and made a mistake and I’ll never be able to earn that trust back. But look into my tether and now that I’m so fucking sorry. That I fucked up.” Xaden pleads, “And selfishly I was looking out for my brother, knowing that if he lost you? There was nothing in this world that would bring him back.” His voice cracks as he looks over at Garrick, a hand on his broad shoulders. “I’d rather you be alive and hate me, whereas dead and I lose the two of you in the process.”

A shudder makes it’s way past my lips, tears trailing down my cheeks. I felt exhausted, I felt confused and scared and so many other things and all because we we’re so fucking human it seemed like despite my signet, despite my bond with a dragon - I was still so susceptible to human experiences and emotions.

“I’m being assigned to Samara,” I tell them, not being able to dance around that any longer. Both of them look at me with wide bloodshot eyes.

“Say that again?” Garrick demands, making his way towards me.

“Samara is my new duty station?” Confused as to their reactions. “I was assigned my station before the official formation. It’s a death sentence, one they thought they could give me since they thought you were dead and I was a loose end towards command.”

Garrick and Xaden smile, both blinding and perfect. Garrick for the first time in what seems like ages, swoops me into his arms, clutching me tightly as he cradles the nape of my neck. He shakes in my hold, as if whatever energy he feels is suddenly constrained in his body.

“We’ve been assigned there as well, we didn’t get to chose our station. I guess they forgot that they had put you there too,” Xaden laughs, watching the disbelief as I realize what this means.

“You’re gonna be with me?” I whimper towards Garrick, burrowing my face into the crook of his neck feeling the tidal wave of emotions of all three of us.

“Never leaving you, sweetheart.” He laughs again, rubbing his hands along my back, clutching my hair, doing anything he can to just touch me. It’s been ages since we’ve been near each other like this. I can feel Rathnait chuff in the back of my mind, her also understanding that she gets Chradh with her as well.

“We get a second chance,” Xaden grins, although I know he means it more towards himself.

“If by second chance you mean I get to be in, full in. Than yes,” I demand, untangling myself from Garrick, to look at both of them. Garrick clutches his hand in mine tightly.

“You’re in, flare. However much you want to be involved in. Garrick and I will tell you everything, and from there -“ He nervously wavers, “From there you can fully decide what it is you want to do. There is no one else I’d rather station and fight alongside with than with you two. The three of us entered Basgiath together, we leave together.”

Opening my arms, he rolls his eyes playfully - ever the grump. Garrick and I pull Xaden into our embrace, clutching each other tightly with relief. We weren't gonna go through death alone, we weren’t gonna suffer alone. Samara was meant to be our death sentence but maybe, just maybe - it wouldn’t be so bad.

#my text #garrick tavis #fourth wing #iron flame #onyx storm #garrick tavis x reader #xaden riorson #xaden x violet #violet sorrengail #fourth wing imagine

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soiwj · 5 months ago

Note

This might be angst but it's more for humor.

Arlecchino with a reader who's deathly afraid of spider to where they have developed a sort of spidysense for when a spider is within 12 feet of them no matter where it is.

Imagine Everytime Arlecchino is around their instincts scream spider so they maintain distance from her no matter what which leads to a misunderstanding of them hating her when in fact it's just that she reminds them of a spider.

Lmaoo this one is hilarious

Spidey senses

SpiderVibes!Arlecchino x SpiderSense!Reader

Drinking your coffee, you look out the window of the cafe. This day is like every other. The sun shines brightly through the streets of fontaine, and your drink tastes as bitter as ever. Suddenly, you feel a shiver go down your spine as you look for it. The spider.

You've always been able to feel if a spider is nearby. You're terrified of them. Call it a spidey sense. Your eyes zap around the lounge, looking for it. And finally, you find it. The little bug was hanging near the corner of the room. Although it's very far away, you still feel its earie presence, so you take your coffee and leave the cafe. You sigh as you walk out the door.

You recently started working as a caterer for the house of the hearth, which is not too strange. It's just that whenever you're in the building, your spidey sense starts tingling. Which you later found out was just a false alarm.

So you've found a solution; avoid the knave. Yeah, it's kind of rude, but overall, it's for the quality of your work.

But today is different. The orphanage owner herself called you to her office. Shivers flow down your spine as you walk up to her office door. The earie feeling of a million spiders creeping up on you settles as you open her door.

There she is in all her glory, she was already expecting you. Her gaze never left you the moment you walked into her office. "Come closer," she beckons. You take little steps closer to her desk. You dare not look her in the eyes as you do. "You wanted to talk?" She squints at you before responding. "Have I done something to offend you?" Oh shit. You quickly look up at her. She's still observing you from head to toe. "No, it's just...uh it's quite stupid actually -" she stands up from her chair and walks towards you. "Well, whatever I did, I want you to know that I am sorry."

Your face twists into shock and guilt as you try to reassure her. " No, no, you've done nothing to offend me! It's just -" she urges you to continue. And you do, you start rambling. "Well, it's just that I have, like, this really, and I mean really big fear of spiders, and I get the same kind of feeling around you.”

“Not that I'd ever compare you to a spider! I just -" You suddenly get snapped out of your rambling. She's...laughing? She looks back down at you as she recollects herself. A small cough makes its way through her throat.

She looks down at her desk, her face looking conflicted. A smirk graces her face as she suddenly stands, slowly walking toward you. “Ma’am…?” You take a step back out of habit. A slight twinge of fear makes its way through your core. She corners you against the wall, hovering over you with a hand against the wall.

“Do you feel it now?” Her sultry voice cascades through the air. You shiver at the sound. Squirming under her gaze, you nod. “Hm.” She makes a sound of acknowledgment before pulling back. Your body relaxes as she steps away, yet somehow you feel slightly disappointed. “That’s all. You can leave now.”

SORRY ITS SO SHORT

Its also been a little while since i wrote a fic so im a bit rustyy

Should i do a part 2…?

#x reader #genshin #genshin impact #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino genshin #i love arlecchino #arlechinno genshin #arlecchino #arlechinno x reader #gn reader #reader insert

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nayziiz · 1 year ago

Text

Winner | CS55

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader (she/her)

Warnings: Smut, fluff, praise kink, size kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

Carlos's heart pounded with adrenaline as he surged ahead, the roar of the engine drowning out the crowd's cheers. He had waited for this moment, trained for it relentlessly, and now, as he soared past the faltering leader, the taste of victory was tantalizingly close.

But even in the midst of his triumph, a small voice of caution whispered in his mind. He knew all too well the unpredictable nature of motorsport, the countless variables that could turn a seemingly certain win into bitter disappointment. It was this awareness, this ability to remain rational in the face of intense emotion, that had often set him apart on the track.

As he navigated the twists and turns of the circuit, his mind raced along with his car. He analyzed every corner, every potential pitfall, constantly adjusting his strategy to stay ahead of the competition. Despite his hot-headed nature, there was a methodical precision to his driving, a calculated aggression that made him a force to be reckoned with.

But then, just as victory seemed within his grasp, disaster struck. A sudden jolt, a grinding noise from the engine, and Carlos's heart sank. The mechanical gremlins that had plagued the previous leader had now found their way into his own car, threatening to derail his dreams.

In that moment, the fiery temper that lay dormant beneath Carlos's cool exterior flared to life. Frustration and anger bubbled up within him, threatening to consume his rationality. He pounded his fists against the steering wheel, cursing the cruel twist of fate that had robbed him of his chance at glory.

But even as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him, a calm resolve settled over Carlos. He knew that losing his temper now would only compound his misfortune. With steely determination, he forced himself to focus, to push aside the frustration and channel his energy into finding a solution.

With a series of quick adjustments and some expertly timed maneuvers, Carlos managed to nurse his ailing car across the finish line, clinching victory by the narrowest of margins. As he stepped out of the cockpit to the deafening roar of the crowd, there was no trace of the anger that had threatened to consume him moments before. Instead, there was only the triumphant smile of a racer who had faced adversity head-on and emerged victorious.

As she stood in the garage, eyes fixed on the screen displaying the unfolding drama on the track, a sense of déjà vu washed over her. It was as if time had folded back upon itself, transporting her to another moment, another race, another victory.

Singapore. The memory flooded her mind with vivid clarity. The thrill of watching Carlos tear through the night, the elation as he crossed the finish line first, the overwhelming rush of emotion that had followed. She could still feel the electricity in the air, the palpable excitement that had enveloped them all as they celebrated his triumph.

And now, as she watched him once again poised on the brink of victory, that same sense of anticipation crackled in the air. If this race unfolded as she hoped, if Carlos once again emerged triumphant, she would gladly join him in releasing that pent-up adrenaline, in reveling in the euphoria of success.

She could already imagine the scene: the champagne spraying, the cheers ringing out, the infectious joy radiating from Carlos as he basked in the glow of his accomplishment. And she would be right there beside him, sharing in his moment of glory, savoring every second of the celebration.

As the final moments of the race ticked away, her heart raced in time with the cars on the screen. Victory was tantalizingly close now, just within reach. And if history repeated itself, if Carlos crossed that finish line first once again, she would be ready to join him in letting loose the floodgates of exhilaration, to savor the sweet taste of success together.

As Carlos basked in the glow of his first win of the season, the atmosphere in the paddock crackled with excitement and jubilation. Cheers echoed through the air, champagne flowed freely, and the buzz of media activity filled every corner.

But amidst the celebrations and post-race obligations, Carlos couldn't shake the longing to find her, to share this moment of triumph with the one person who mattered most to him. After his fleeting moment on the podium, he sought her out, eager to revel in their victory together.

With the door securely locked behind them, Carlos felt the weight of anticipation settle in the air like a charged current. He stood for a moment, savoring the thrill of the moment, the hunger building within him like a predator poised to strike.

In the dim light of the driver's room, he could see her silhouette, a tantalizing figure bathed in the soft glow of victory. He could almost taste the adrenaline that lingered on her skin, mingling with the heady scent of his own cologne, sweat, and the remnants of champagne from their celebration.

She remained still, a silent beacon drawing him closer with each passing moment. There was a knowing in her stance, a silent invitation for him to take the lead, to guide their movements with a primal urgency that mirrored the intensity of their shared desire.

With a predatory grace, Carlos closed the distance between them, his movements deliberate and purposeful. There was no need for words in this moment, no need for hesitation. They both understood the silent language of desire, the unspoken connection that bound them together in this private sanctuary of intimacy.

As he reached her side, he allowed himself to drink in the sight of her, to revel in the magnetic pull that drew them together. And then, with a hunger that bordered on desperation, he claimed her neck in a searing kiss, igniting a firestorm of passion that consumed them both in its fierce embrace.

“Hands behind your back, baby,” Carlos directed her, his words laced with a raw intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

Without hesitation, she complied, clasping her hands behind her back as he had instructed. As she surrendered to his command, he couldn't help but feel a surge of power coursing through him. There was something undeniably intoxicating about the way she willingly relinquished control, placing her trust entirely in his hands.

He watched her closely, his gaze lingering on the sight of her bound wrists, a potent symbol of her submission to his desires. It was a rare and beautiful sight, seeing her yield so completely to him, allowing him to take the reins and guide their shared passion to new heights.

“You did so well, baby,” she murmured, her voice finally finding its way through the haze of desire that enveloped them.

“I know,” he replied with a cocky smirk, his confidence radiating like a palpable force. “Turn around, cariño.”

Without a moment's hesitation, she acquiesced, turning to face him with a mixture of anticipation and excitement. As she shifted, she felt the heat of his body pressing against hers, his hands finding purchase at her waist before trailing down to her hips, pulling her irresistibly closer to him.

With each breath, the air between them crackled with electricity, a potent mixture of desire and anticipation that seemed to hang in the air like a tangible force. She could feel the heat of his gaze boring into her, igniting a fierce firestorm of longing deep within her core.

As their bodies melded together, every touch, every caress sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her veins, setting her aflame with a need that bordered on desperation. In that moment, there was nothing else in the world but the two of them, locked in a passionate embrace that transcended time and space.

With a soft gasp, she leaned into him, her body arching against his in silent invitation. And as their lips met in a searing kiss, she knew with a certainty that bordered on certainty that this moment, this connection, was something truly special

“Keep your hands back there, okay?” Carlos reminded her, his voice low and commanding.

“Yes, baby,” she responded obediently, her breath hitching with anticipation.

With deliberate care, Carlos knelt before her, his movements slow and deliberate as he reached for the zipper of her black satin skirt. His touch was gentle, reverent almost, as he teased the fabric apart, inch by tantalizing inch.

Normally, in the heat of the moment, Carlos's passion could sometimes lead to clothing casualties—ripped zippers, broken buttons—but tonight was different. Tonight, he took his time, savoring the thrill of anticipation as he slowly undid the fastenings, each movement a delicious torment that left her trembling with desire.

As the fabric pooled at her feet, he looked up at her with a hunger that mirrored her own, his eyes dark with desire.

“You're going to be quiet, right, cariño?” Carlos's voice held a hint of playful warning, his gaze locking with hers.

“I'll try but I make no promises,” she replied, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes. A smirk tugged at the corners of Carlos's lips as he heard her response.

“That's right, you love making noise for me, don't you?” He teased, his tone laced with a mixture of amusement and desire. Her breath caught in her throat at his words, a flush creeping up her cheeks as she nodded in agreement.

“Yes, baby,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breathless murmur.

“Then let's see just how quiet you can be, shall we?” Carlos leaned in closer, his lips grazing her ear as he whispered.

As her underwear slipped down her legs and pooled at her ankles, Carlos wasted no time in discarding them entirely, his focus solely on the woman before him. With a hunger that burned bright in his eyes, he trailed soft, featherlight kisses along the tender flesh of her thighs, each caress igniting a firestorm of sensation that raced through her veins.

The gentle touch of his lips against her skin was enough to elicit a shiver of pleasure, her breath hitching in her throat as she surrendered to the exquisite torture of his ministrations. Without conscious thought, she spread her legs ever so slightly, a silent invitation for him to explore further.

His hands, warm and possessive, roamed freely over the smooth expanse of her thighs, tracing delicate patterns that sent ripples of pleasure coursing through her body. A soft moan escaped her lips as she threw her head back, lost in the intoxicating sensation of his touch.

“You remember the safe word?” Carlos's voice was firm, tinged with concern as he sought reassurance.

“Yes, baby,” she replied, her tone steady and unwavering.

“And, you'll stop me if it gets too much,” he pressed, his gaze searching hers for any hint of hesitation.

“Yes, baby,” she affirmed, her voice carrying a note of confidence.

“Are you certain?” His question hung in the air, a final plea for confirmation.

“You know what I like and I know my limits,” she assured him, her conviction unwavering.

“What's the safe word, baby?” Carlos's voice softened slightly, a gentle reminder of the trust that bound them together.

“Chili,” she replied without hesitation, her voice steady and sure.

“Good girl,” Carlos murmured, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned in to press a tender kiss against her thigh.

The subtle defiance in her backchat ignited a primal fire within Carlos, fueling his desire to possess her completely. With each playful exchange, his arousal surged, his cock growing harder with each passing moment.

With a predatory gleam in his eyes, Carlos teased her with the lightest touch of his index finger, tracing delicate patterns along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. He reveled in the way her breath hitched in response, her body responding eagerly to his every touch.

Despite the lingering soreness from their passionate encounter the night before, she was still wet and ready for him, her arousal evident in the way her slickness coated his fingers. He savored the sensation, his cock throbbing with anticipation as he explored the depths of her desire.

“You'll stop me, cariño?” Carlos's voice held a note of urgency, his gaze locked with hers as he sought confirmation of her consent.

Though she struggled to find her voice amidst the onslaught of pleasure coursing through her, she made sure to meet his gaze with a firm nod, her eyes speaking volumes where words failed her.

Encouraged by her silent affirmation, Carlos continued his ministrations, teasing her entrance with his finger before pressing into her with deliberate intent. A soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips at the exquisite sensation of him filling her, her body responding eagerly to his touch.

Despite their previous escapades, she remained wonderfully tight, her arousal evident in the way she welcomed him with a fierce hunger that matched his own. With practiced skill, he found her clit with his thumb, the throbbing bundle of nerves already swollen and sensitive under his touch.

As he began to rub circles over her clit, her breath caught in her throat, her body arching instinctively towards him in silent plea for more. With each tantalizing stroke, he felt her arousal building, her desire spiraling higher and higher until she teetered on the edge of ecstasy, on the brink of surrendering herself entirely to the pleasure he offered.

Feeling her hands instinctively reaching out to him, Carlos paused his motions, a subtle reminder of the boundaries they had agreed upon. With a firm but gentle tone, he issued his command once more.

“Hands behind your back,” he instructed, his voice laced with authority as he sought to regain control of the situation.

Despite the surge of desire coursing through him, Carlos remained steadfast in his resolve, determined to honor the trust she had placed in him. He watched closely as she complied, her movements slow and deliberate as she obeyed his command.

As her hands found their place behind her back once more, he felt a surge of pride swell within him, a testament to the strength of their connection and the unwavering trust they shared. And with a renewed sense of purpose, Carlos resumed his motions, his touch igniting a fierce firestorm of pleasure that consumed them both in its fiery embrace.

As she gulped, a sense of frustration mingled with anticipation washed over her, the memory of her orders echoing in her mind. The desire to reach out and touch him, to feel his warmth beneath her fingertips, burned fiercely within her, but she knew that patience was key.

With each passing moment, the longing to feel his touch, to intertwine their bodies in a symphony of passion, intensified. But she held firm, reminding herself of the promise that lay just beyond her restraint.

She knew that eventually, he would grant her permission to touch him, to explore every inch of his skin with the same fervor that he showed her. And when that moment came, when she felt his hands upon her once more, she knew that it would all be worth it—the frustration, the restraint, the anticipation—everything would pale in comparison to the ecstasy of their shared embrace.

As Carlos continued his relentless assault on her clit, his movements alternating between teasing and pumping, she felt her arousal building to dizzying heights. With each stroke, each thrust of his fingers inside her, she surrendered herself completely to the pleasure, her body responding with a fervor that bordered on desperation.

Her thighs quivered with the intensity of her arousal, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she teetered on the edge of ecstasy. It wasn't long before she felt herself stretching to accommodate a second finger, the sensation pushing her even closer to the brink of release.

But even as pleasure threatened to overwhelm her, she couldn't shake the feeling of being overstimulated, of being pushed to her limits by the intensity of their encounter. It was as if something in the air, something in the very essence of Australia itself, had ignited a primal fire within them both, driving them to new heights of passion and desire.

As Carlos continued his relentless assault on her senses, her moans grew shallower, each breathy gasp a testament to the ecstasy that threatened to consume her entirely. She chased her high with single-minded determination, her body trembling with the intensity of her arousal.

“That's good, baby,” Carlos murmured, his voice a soothing presence amidst the whirlwind of sensation. “Keep your voice low.”

His words were a gentle reminder of the need for discretion, a silent agreement between them to keep their passion contained within the confines of their private sanctuary. And as she struggled to comply, to stifle the cries of pleasure threatening to spill from her lips, she felt a surge of arousal coursing through her veins, driving her ever closer to the brink of release.

Sensing her arousal reaching a fever pitch, Carlos knew that she was on the brink of release. With a mix of restraint and desire, he withdrew his fingers, a sudden absence of his touch leaving her gasping for more.

The abrupt lack of sensation sent a jolt of longing coursing through her body, her hips instinctively arching towards him in search of the pleasure she so desperately craved. She whimpered softly, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she struggled to cope with the sudden emptiness inside her.

“Baby,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a potent mix of desire and need.

With a reassuring smile, Carlos met her gaze, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

“Don't worry, cariño,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the ache of longing that pulsed through her veins. “I'm not done with you yet.”

As Carlos stood before her, shedding his race suit and fireproofs with deliberate precision, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight of him. With each movement, his toned muscles flexed and rippled beneath his skin, his body a testament to the physical demands of their sport.

Her breath caught in her throat as his cock sprang free, solid and throbbing with arousal, the sight of him sending a jolt of desire coursing through her veins. She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry with anticipation, knowing all too well the intensity of his desire to claim her.

This was what she had been expecting when he took the lead of the race—the raw, primal need that burned bright in his eyes, the insatiable hunger that drove him to seek out her touch with a desperation that bordered on madness.

With deliberate care, Carlos pulled her up onto the massage table, positioning himself between her legs with a primal hunger burning in his eyes. He kissed her with a tender urgency, savoring the taste of her lips against his own, before slowly entering her, inch by agonizing inch.

As he filled her, stretching her to accommodate his size, he could feel her walls clenching around him, her body instinctively adjusting to the intimate intrusion. Sensing her need for a moment to acclimate, he paused, his gaze locked with hers as he watched the myriad of emotions flicker across her face.

Her eyes were closed in blissful surrender, her lips parted in a silent plea for more. And in that moment, Carlos felt a surge of pride and desire swell within him, completely infatuated by the woman who had offered herself so completely to him.

With a smirk of satisfaction, he resumed his slow, steady thrusts, each movement driving them both closer to the edge of ecstasy. In this intimate dance of passion, there was no need for words—their bodies spoke a language of their own, a symphony of pleasure and desire that echoed through the dimly lit room.

“Carlos, baby, you need to move, please,” she pleaded, her voice laced with urgency as she yearned for the friction and rhythm only he could provide.

“So desperate for me, huh?” Carlos teased, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he reveled in the intensity of her need.

“I need it, baby. Please,” she implored, her words a desperate plea for release as her body thrummed with anticipation.

Carlos's breathy chuckle mingled with the symphony of their shared passion as he began to move, his movements slow and deliberate at first, building momentum with each thrust. He could feel her body responding eagerly to his touch, her moans growing louder with each passing moment.

As she fought to contain her urges, to resist the overwhelming need to grasp him and hold him close, Carlos felt a surge of arousal stir in his groin. The sound of her moans, the sight of her writhing beneath him in pleasure, ignited a primal fire within him, driving him to new heights of desire.

With each increase in speed, he felt himself completely filling her up, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony as they surrendered themselves to the ecstasy of the moment.

Feeling her hands being guided beneath her belly button, she opened her eyes, curiosity flickering in their depths as she glanced down to see what Carlos was doing. As he pressed her hands into her lower abdomen, she felt a slight movement beneath her fingertips, a sensation that sent a shiver of pleasure coursing through her body.

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp as she adjusted to the feeling, her senses overwhelmed by the intimate connection between them.

“You feel that?” His words hung in the air between them, heavy with raw desire and a primal intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Yeah,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, her body quivering with pleasure at the sensation of him deep inside her.

“That's me fucking deep inside you,” Carlos murmured, his voice thick with arousal as he reveled in the intimate connection they shared.

As Carlos positioned her hands on his shoulders, a surge of anticipation raced through her veins, her body trembling with the intensity of their shared desire. With a primal urgency, he began to thrust, each movement hard and rapid, driving her to the brink of ecstasy with each powerful motion.

Some of his thrusts caused her to flinch, the sensation of him filling her completely both thrilling and overwhelming. She could feel herself bruising all over again, the reminder of their previous night's passion adding to the intensity of the moment. Yet despite the ache, despite the slight sting of pain, it all felt too good to resist.

And then, as pleasure surged through her body like a tidal wave, she came undone, her senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of her release. Her body shook with the force of her climax, every nerve ending alight with ecstasy as she surrendered herself completely to the pleasure coursing through her veins.

Her hands searched for some grip on his skin, fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders as she held on for dear life, leaving scratches in her wake. And as she reached the peak of her pleasure, she felt Carlos tensing beneath her, his own release imminent.

With one final, primal cry, he came inside her, his body shuddering with the force of his release as they rode out the waves of pleasure together.

As Carlos continued to thrust through her orgasm, a primal need drove him to push their pleasure to new heights. With a surge of determination, he pulled out and spun her around, his movements swift and purposeful as he positioned her upper body onto the massage table and spread her legs wide.

She clung to the table for support, her body trembling with a heady mix of pleasure and anticipation as Carlos resumed his thrusts. With each powerful motion, she fought to keep her legs steady, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of their shared desire.

But as pleasure built once more, she began to feel a twinge of pain, a nagging ache that tugged at the edges of her consciousness. Unsure whether it was the position or if her body had reached its limits, she pushed through, determined to chase her pleasure to its ultimate climax.

And then, just as she felt a second orgasm approaching, Carlos hit a particular spot that sent a jolt of pain shooting through her body, causing her legs to wobble beneath her. In that moment, she realized that her body had reached its breaking point, her pleasure giving way to the sharp sting of discomfort.

As she whispered the safe word, “Chili,” her voice barely above a breathless murmur, Carlos's movements faltered, a flicker of concern crossing his features. But with the intensity of their passion clouding his senses, her words went unheard as he continued thrusting, lost in the heat of the moment.

“Chili, chili,” she repeated, her voice growing slightly louder in a desperate plea for him to stop.

Sensing her distress, Carlos's instincts kicked in, and almost immediately, he ceased his movements and pulled out, his expression shifting from desire to concern. With the cum oozing out of her, a silent testament to their shared pleasure, Carlos turned her around and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to steady her trembling form.

“Are you okay, cariño?” Carlos's voice was filled with concern as he held her close, his arms a comforting presence around her trembling form.

She didn't answer immediately, her mind still reeling from the shock of having to use the safe word for the first time. She had never asked him to stop before, but the pain had become too much to bear.

“I'm fine, it just hurt a bit,” she finally replied, her voice soft and slightly strained as she tried to downplay the discomfort she was feeling.

Carlos's expression softened with understanding as he held her tighter, his heart aching at the thought of causing her any pain. With gentle hands, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch a silent apology for pushing her beyond her limits.

“I'm sorry, cariño,” he murmured, his voice filled with regret. “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

Carlos fetched a towel and gently cleaned her up, his heart weighed heavy with guilt for pushing her past her limits. With each tender touch, he was careful not to overstimulate her further, his movements slow and deliberate as he wiped away the remnants of their passion.

Once she was cleaned up, he helped her back onto the massage table, his touch gentle and reassuring as he helped her put her panties and skirt back on. She was exhausted from the episode, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of their encounter, and he could see the fatigue etched into her features.

With a pang of remorse, Carlos watched as she lay down, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she tried to regain her composure. He knew that she needed time to rest and recuperate, to recover from the intensity of their shared experience.

He cleaned himself up and changed into his casual clothes and kept stealing glances at her, his heart heavy with worry. But with each reassuring word she spoke, each gentle touch she offered, he felt a small measure of relief wash over him.

She was fine. She reassured him of that fact time and time again. And as he settled down beside her, wrapping her in his arms and holding her close, he knew that he was the one person she trusted more than anyone else in the world.

Carlos kissed her gently, his touch a soothing balm against the ache of her body and soul, she felt a sense of safety and comfort wash over her. In his arms, she found solace from the storm of emotions that had threatened to overwhelm her, her fears and doubts melting away beneath the warmth of his love.

With each caress of her cheek, each tender gesture, Carlos reaffirmed his devotion to her, his love a beacon of light in the darkness of their shared struggles. She knew that despite the momentary pain, she was safe with him, cherished and adored beyond measure.

Wrapped in his embrace, she felt a sense of peace settle over her, a quiet calm that whispered of better days to come. For in his arms, she found not only love, but strength—the strength to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that together, they could overcome anything.

She was and always would be addicted to him, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. But she also knew her limits, understood the importance of self-care and self-preservation. And as she nestled closer to him, surrendering herself to the warmth of his embrace, she knew that no matter what trials they faced, they would face them together, bound by a love that knew no bounds.

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evielmostdefinitely · 1 year ago

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young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader timeline

making this for the timeline of duke!reader aka capitol!reader's timeline, or the masterlist in order of events. i will update as more stories are posted :)

mastermind - the meeting of coriolanus and capitol!reader. takes place in twelve, when coryo is a peacekeeper.

first fall of snow - takes place shortly after they've begun dating. their first time together.

closer to the darkness - established dating but still newer than the rest. when they explore the more eccentric part of their sex life. (dark fic!)

jealous girl - a smutty fic with dom!coryo based off when capitol!reader gets jealous and yells at him at university.

tip of my fingers - an aftercare fluff work. sort of a follow up to jealous girl. shines a light on the softer side of coryo and reader's relationship.

darkened shadows - an angsty type work. set post-engagement, when reader finds lucy gray's earring in coryo's things which leads to an argument and some (manipulative) vulnerability.

a hazy shade of winter - days before the wedding and coryo's inauguration, you two are on the lucky flickerman show to kick off your wedding press tour before coryo takes office.

snow bride - honeymoon smut. directly after the wedding, while on the train to travel the districts, you and coryo share an intimate night for the first time as husband and wife.

treat me rough - set during the honeymoon press train tour through the districts. a smutty dom!coryo fic where you misbehave, and he must correct you.

scorned earth - during the final stop on the honeymoon tour in twelve, coryo takes you out to a familiar place in twelve. smutty with mentions of lucy gray and dark!coryo.

money, power, glory - takes place right after the inauguration of coryo, now president snow. a smutty fic of 'celebrating' coriolanus' new status in his presidential office.

cold tonight - a dom!coryo x sub!reader work that follows your boredom causing you to try and bring coryo's attention back to you during a dinner party.

watch over me - shows the softer side of coriolanus and reader's relationship, when you fall ill with the flu. shows the possessive yet caring side of coryo.

bitter snow - coriolanus' new title and changes to the game does not come without protest. a confrontational charge towards you leaves you shaken, worried that coriolanus will be upset. shows protective, posessive coriolanus.

shake the frost - you and coriolanus decide to start trying for a child. smutty, slight dom!coriolanus who tracks your ovulation cycle to ensure you'll get pregnant.

watchful eye - a pregnant reader attends an event with coriolanus, the first since you began to show. protective!coriolanus who is caring with pregnant!reader.

forever winter- the birth of your son is far from ideal. after a horrifyingly scary birth, coriolanus is conflicted and horrified by his son. angst with dark-ish!coryo.

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syneilesis · 1 year ago

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[fic] Coffee Break

Coffee Break

Love and Deepspace | Xavier (Shen Xinghui) x Main-Character!Reader | G | 1.2k words ao3 link

You buy Xavier a new coffee machine.

A/N: I am so in love with this man. Day 2 of the closed beta test and here I am writing fic lmao. God, I love Shen Xinghui so much. This fic is inspired by his Shimmering Sunlight story. Some spoilers about the main storyline and character-exclusive stories, though nothing too significant. Though I frequently refer to his CN name in my other posts, in this fic I use his EN version -- Xavier.

The box is light in your hands, but the salesperson assured you that weight does not equate to quality. Price, too—because although the Hunters Association is generous with their pay, you don't want to raise flags by taking missions incessantly. Tara's nose for intrigue, of course, is well-known among your circles.

It would be all the worse if Xavier gets in on the gossip too. (You'd have to thank the stars for the man's indifference to workplace drama—and to most in general. Xavier may be airheaded at times but when he's focused on something he is monstrously focused on it. It's impressive, and—well—cute.)

The recommended beans are secured inside your messenger bag. You don't call Xavier this time to give him a heads up. He had, a few days ago, granted you the privilege to enter his home whenever you like, his hand tracing the book spines on the shelf, all the while saying it. He wasn't looking at you, but his tone remained light, playful even, that it prompted you to tease him by pointing out that if he merely wanted an efficient alarm clock, he could just buy one of those state-of-the-art ones sold in major stores. That's when Xavier whirled around to look at you, mirth in his eyes but with a secretive, scheming tilt on his lips.

“I'm coming in,” you announce, regardless, by the door, pushing it in with one hand, and Xavier's voice floats across the hall.

“You're really taking advantage of this, huh.”

“Well, a wise man once said that one must seize every opportunity given their way.”

Xavier emerges from a room in all his cardigan-and-sweatpantsed glory, hair mussed enough to indicate that he's just risen from his bed.

“Good morning!” you chirp.

He glances at the clock—two in the afternoon—and eyes the box in your hands. The caution—and curiosity—is obvious in the lilt of his question. “What's that?”

“For you.”

He takes the proffered item and inspects like it'll explode at any moment. You sigh and retrieve it again, and he follows you when you make your way to the kitchen.

“I already have a coffee machine,” he says, confused, as you begin to clean the gift.

“And it brews bitter coffee.” You spare a glance at him to find that he's watching you. You tap the lid of the machine. “This is a more recent and an undeniably better model.”

“I don't recall asking you to buy one for me.”

“That's because you didn't.” There's a pause where you deliberate telling him your next sentence and facing him directly as you say it. You go for it, in the end. “It's a gift. This is a gift from me to you.”

It doesn't register to him at first—it's as if he's waiting for an explanation that requires the mention of Captain Jenna's orders. But after a blink and a shuffle, it clicks, his eyes widening and he's fully awake all of a sudden.

And when he responds, it seems urgent: “What's the occasion?”

You shake your head. “Nothing—or rather, it's the occasion for drinking good coffee.” The coffee beans make their appearance. “Go sit on the sofa or something while I work this thing out.”

Xavier chuckles. “What—now you're ordering me in my own home?”

“And making you good coffee!”

“You're a guest—even I know that it's rude to have the guest make food or drinks for the owner of the house.”

“It's fine! And besides, I'd like to test this out as soon as possible. Refund and exchange policy only lasts for seven days from the date of purchase. I'd want to know if this works just fine.”

Xavier attempts to protest a little more, but you hold firm. Once he trudges back to the living room, you concentrate on the coffee. The salesperson seemed trustworthy enough when pitching the product, and you really can't forget the time Xavier served you a cup of bitter coffee. Not even three sugar cubes could salvage that unholy concoction.

When it's done, the heavenly aroma wafting along your nose, you test a sip from your own mug. It's a success. Placing the mugs on a tray, you head to where Xavier is.

He's reading a book. Though 'reading' seems to be a stretch because his head bobs twice, his eyelids drooping, the edge of a nap threatening his posture.

“Xavier,” you call him, and his head snaps back to attention. You bite your lip to stave off a laugh. Sitting next to him on the sofa, you put the tray on the table and hand him his own cup. “Try this one.”

A sniff and a tentative sip. And then he hums in approval, now drinking it normally. You smile around the rim of your mug, your eyes falling on his book.

“This is good,” he comments, wearing a smile of his own when he turns to you. “Did you use another kind of coffee beans?”

“Yep. The salesman recommended me another one, and it was the right decision. By the way, why are you reading an instruction manual on building a claw machine?”

“It's nothing,” he says, swiping the item away. There's another book on the table—a collection of short stories—and he snatches that up instead. You recognize the title.

“Oh! I've read that before.”

“Is it good? I haven't read it yet.”

“Yes. I particularly loved the titular story. The suspense buildup was done skillfully and the payoff was perfect.”

“I see, then I look forward to starting it.”

Surprisingly, Xavier begins reading it then and there, occasionally sipping his coffee and turning the page. You, beside him, are minding your own cup, thoughts drifting here and there. Your next mission. New strategies in battle. Your next appointment with Dr. Zayne.

It's when a weight has plopped down your shoulder that you jolt out of your musings: Xavier falling asleep on your shoulder, mug empty, the coffee residues pooling at the bottom, book opened in the chapter of your favorite story.

“Xavier?” you murmur, careful not to startle him if he's truly asleep.

He doesn't stir—only burrows further into the crevice between your neck and shoulder, the puffs of his breath close and warm against your skin.

It would've been cruel to push him away, not when he looks comfortable. And besides, you're afforded an opportunity to study him—so you let him as he is.

From your angle, staring down at his sleeping face, you note of his eyelashes, long and thick and seemingly soft, slightly curved upwards, hovering over his smooth cheeks. They frame the blueness of his eyes very well. They make him even prettier under daylight. You're reminded of the time you and he strolled under the blooming peach blossoms, the pink backdrop highlighting the radiance of his presence, statuesque. He as sublime art itself, rivaling that of Rafayel's paintings—or better yet, surpassing them. And when he smiles—

Unbidden, heat crawls across your cheeks and settles there. Oh no. Oh, no no no.

Oh dear, this won't do.

You swallow, and turn away. Against your neck, Xavier sleeps on, unaware of your unfurling realizations. By the window, a familiar bird perches, twittering under the afternoon sun, a small but melodious background song.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace shen xinghui #love and deepspace xavier #fic #my fic #shen xinghui #shen xinghui my beloved #i'm obsessed with this man #this won't be the only fic i'll write for him and for this game

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kamaluhkhan · 5 months ago

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read below the cut if you wanna know more about each option ;))

HER CANINE TEETH IN THE SIDE OF MY NECK (werewolf!vi x vampire slayer!reader)

slightly canon-divergent....basically set during pit fighter!vi arc except in this world we've got vampires! and werewolves!!!! (can you tell i've been rewatching buffy the vampire slayer and first kill???)

so reader is also a pit fighter -- they literally meet for the first time when they're competing underground. the next morning vi wakes up with a wicked hangover in some stranger's apartment and that stranger is you! and your dog! vi doesn't realize this yet but you saved her drunk ass from a vampire anyways, you invite vi to train with you and some other girls, which she denies at first but vi's eventually like,, tired of the whole lone wolf thing but still very scared to let people in after what happened with caitlyn,, so she joins somewhat reluctantly and you become friends ("whoever wins the most fights that night picks up the tab for the bar.") and vi maybe has a crush on you but she tries very hard to keep her identity a secret.....while you're also trying to keep the whole vampire slayer thing under wraps....perhaps unsuccessfully, but i don't want to spoil it hehe. i will however share this moodboard thing that i spent a bunch of time at work making

IS IT CASUAL NOW? (college fwb!vi x reader)

SO this is probably my most self-indulgent fic oops - it's kinda inspired by leighton's arc in sex lives of college girls season 1! basically, vi's on the varsity soccer team and after a series of unfortunate events (anger issues, bad breakup) is put on academic probation and has to volunteer at the women's centre or else she'd get kicked off of the team. she goes for her first shift and she's like...that president looks awfully familiar?? and reader's like, yeah, i work at that bar you keep starting fights in....so off to a great start. reader and vi don't really get along at first bc obviously vi doesn't wanna be there and reader is just not having it so there's TENSION. but then vi's like ,, oh this actually isn't so bad??? these ppl are kinda cool??? and maybe wait is reader kinda hot??? and reader's like....maybe this angry butch lesbian has a soft heart (vi is the definition of looks like she could kill you and she COULD but is also a huge cinnamon roll). eventually turns into a friends with benefits situation. (yeah, we bang on the couch.....yeah, she's knee deep in the passenger seat eating me out vibes). but then there are like moments where it's like....are we dating? like, reader will run into vi at the library where she's checking out feminist literature and reader's like...since when are you into this stuff? turns out vi is taking a gender studies elective so she can impress reader; vi starts showering at reader's place after practice bc she just really loves smelling like reader's shampoo, and reader keeps her fridge stocked with those energy drinks vi is obsessed with; reader wears vi's jersey to one of her games, meets her family, and they insist that reader join them for dinner to celebrate (i fucked you in the bathroom when we went to dinner!!! your parents at the table, you wonder why i'm bitter!!!); one night vi is worried when reader doesn't show up for her shift at work so checks in on reader and turns out she's having really bad period cramps and is like super stressed so vi stays in bed with her watching movies until she falls asleep and then cleans up her apartment (vi is such an acts of service person!!!); they both hate doing laundry so they do it together on a sunday morning after spending all of saturday night fucking. something about being happy doing laundry and taxes with someone (iykyk). spoiler alert, it'll end with the centre in dire need of funding so reader's scrambling to save it and one day reader sees vi talking to her ex and gets super jealous but then vi's like ,, babe ,, i was trying to convince caitlyn to get her family to donate and it WORKED !!! so ,, yeah ,, reader is convinced vi's the woman she'll one day make her wife (and she's more than happy to get down on her knees for her oop). the centre is saved and reader and vi confess their feelings for each other and live happily ever after <3

GLORY AND GORE (the hunger games au)

basically sapphic katniss x peeta. vi and reader are picked for the 74th annual hunger games ,, they do the whole fake relationship for the camera thing that eventually turns into them needing each other to survive in the arena...and then after they're like oh shit not only can i not survive without you, i don't wanna survive without you.

LIKE SOME MISPLACED JOAN OF ARC (spiderverse au)

vi is spider-gwen spider-woman! she's in college, plays drums in a band, has an internship at some lab and spends a lot of her time saving the city but there's the lingering guilt that she couldn't save you (canon event: losing their first love). one day she's fighting some villian and....a portal opens? and she's transported into another universe?? the only place she knows of for sure is her apartment and when she knocks on the door, her heart almost stops -- because you're the one who opens it. turns out in this universe, you're spider-woman, dealing with some demons of your own (two canon events rolled into one: losing their first love and not being able to save the life of a police captain....and your vi was an enforcer). basically you have to work together to get vi back home and maybe fall for each other along the way even though you both really really don't wanna go through losing the other and it seems like it's inevitable. but, fuck the universe, right?

#thank you to whoever read my ramblings this is A LOT #i'm leaning towards werewolf!vi or fwb fic #as you might already be able to tell given the insane amount of detail for those ones esp the fwb one oops #but always curious what ppl are interested in reading!!#my thesis is a mess rn so #i'm both avoiding it and very stressed #long story short i'm gonna deal with it tomorrow but afterwards i wanna be writing something that brings me joy #something that might heal me #saf speaks #vi arcane smut #vi smut #vi arcane #vi arcane x reader #vi x reader

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milswrites · 1 year ago

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To the stars who listen

~Rhysand X Fem!Reader

Summary: Looking upon the stars for the first time since leaving the mountain, Rhysand makes a wish. Only to be surprised when his dreams are actually answered.

Warnings: Mentions of what happened to Rhys under the mountain. (otherwise the only way I could describe this is as fluffy angst?)

Fic for @starfallweek

Prompt: Character A is a fallen star. Character B finds them.

The world was full of dreamers.

Humans, Fae and Faeries alike. The power of the night sky knew no bounds. All were welcome to look up to the heavens and all were able to wish upon the astral beings to their hearts content.

The stars knew nothing of discrimination, shining for all should they only choose to look up.

They were infinite. Unyielding.

Having centuries of experience when it comes to lighting up the night sky.

A patient guide, a willing listener, a teller of stories.

To Rhysand, stars were just as important as the air he breathed.

Which is why he found himself here, on his first night of freedom after escaping the mountain, sat alone on his balcony at the House of Wind. His violet eyes, dulled after half a century of pain by Amarantha's hand, locked onto the sky above him.

Fifty years.

That was how long the High Lord had been deprived from watching the stars. Fifty long years without their comforting presence to whisper to. Unable to share his dreams, his prayers for the future. Hidden from the golden twinkle which told him they heard him, storing away his wishes, holding them safe until they came true.

So here he was, staring longingly at the night sky. Searching his mind for what he wanted to say. Wondering exactly how he would greet them again.

It was a beautiful night for it.

Not a single cloud hovered overhead. Allowing the stars to shimmer brightly in all their majesty. Rhysand couldn't recall a time where he had ever seen the stars gleam with this intensity.

Heart twinging with hope, he imagined their vivid illumination was for him. That it was their way of saying hello to an old friend they had missed. Their way of showing him they were listening.

So Rhysand spoke.

A soft breath from his lips as he whispered to the brightest star in the sky, the reflection of its almighty glory danced in his soulless eyes.

"I wish I felt like me again."

His own eyes watered at his confession, throat turning dry as his mind never failed to stop playing out the horrors of which he had endured under the mountain. Each blink of his eyes brought along the flashes of deep red hair and rouge painted claws.

Rhysand no longer considered himself a dreamer. Not as long as these nightmares plagued his thoughts.

He was a broken man.

A cracked mirror. Only he couldn't figure out how to piece himself back together again. How to move on from the trauma of his past which had settled in his bones.

So he repeated his wish, his words floating into the cool night air like a prayer. Desperate eyes searching the glowing stars, begging for an answer. Begging for some instruction as to how he could move on, how he could be Rhysand again.

But there was nothing.

The stars were silent.

There was no shimmer of acknowledgment. No sign that they had heard the broken call from the male. They stayed unchanging, staring back at him with no acknowledgement of his wish.

Disheartened, Rhysand cast his bitter eyes to the ground. Cursing himself for being so foolish as to believe that the stories his mother used to tell him held truth.

Perhaps that's all they ever were. Just stars. And Rhysand was just the fool who had hoped that they could be something more.

Sullen, he made to move inside. Disappointment welling in his system at the knowledge that sleep most likely won't come to him. That dark-eyed and exhausted tomorrow, he would have to pretend to his family that all was ok. That he was ok.

For one last time he cast his violet eyes back to the sky in despair. Taking turns to stare at each glistening orb. Forcing himself to look for something he no longer believed was there.

Then, just as he was about to give up and retire to his room, there was a flash from the corner of his eyes.

It was only small, the white light which had crept into his vision. But it was definitely there. A streak across the inky black sky. Breaking the darkness as it barreled over Velaris and towards the forest-cloaked mountain in the distance.

Rhysand was driven by pure instinct.

He leapt from the balcony. Large wings growing from his back until they began to powerfully beat against the gravity pulling him down, carrying him upwards towards the mountain. Towards the mysterious light which was still barreling through the sky, gaining momentum as it was moved downwards. Almost appearing as though if it was falling.

This stirred the male to act faster. To urge his wings to close the difference between himself and the light quicker. Beating them and beating them until a dull ache had settled in his muscles.

But he had to get there.

The white light disappeared between the trees, its intense aura had dimmed to a low glow. It's flickering energy enough for Rhysand to still follow the trail as he flew down to the ground in order to land. Curiously threading in-between the tree's as he made his way towards the source.

His eyes squinted as he neared the fallen light, heart pounding as he was able to make out the shape of a figure from inside the glowing orb.

The ethereal being walked towards him as the brightness dimmed, allowing Rhysand to drop the hand which he had lifted to shield his eyes. Though whilst the orb of light had faded, the skin of this otherworldly being still glowed strongly.

"Who are you?" He questioned weakly, unable to don the mask of an all-powerful High-Lord because he knew whoever this was, whatever they were, he would be no match for them.

"I think you already know the answer to that."

Their voice was soft, angelic, as though the words they were speaking came from the melody of a song. The gentle tone reverberated in the quiet forest, clinging to the air as it failed to fully disappear. Hovering closely by like an inextinguishable echo.

"No. . .no. It's impossible. You're not real" his head shook in disbelief, violet eyes wide in shock. There had to be another explanation to this. To who this strange being was.

"You called, Rhysand. So I came."

"But- but how? Am I dreaming?"

An amused smile crossed her face, soft pink lips lifting into a gracious curve, "Is that what you think this is? A dream?"

His brows furrowed as he considered the star's words.

"No" he concluded, heart sinking at his realization, "This is real. I haven't had a dream in fifty years."

"And why is that?" she questioned, her siren's song attempting to draw the words out from his lips, even though Rhysand had the unsettling feeling that she already knew the answer. That she probably already knew everything about him.

The thought of which churned his stomach in an unpleasant way. Had she been able to see everything that happened under the mountain, even though Rhysand couldn't see her? His rising anxiety over this prospect rendered him unable to speak.

"You've asked me who I am," she started attempting to soothe his rising worries by giving him something else to think about, "But who are you Rhysand? You want to feel like you again so badly? Who is that?"

"I. . . I don't know. I don't know who I am" he cried, searching eyes boring into the star's as if her silver orbs would hold the answer that he's looking for. But they remained untelling, instead they only willed him to continue speaking.

"What I do know. . . Is that I'm not the same man who entered that mountain."

Her unwavering smile remained, its presence pouring through Rhysand, relaxing him until it reached his very soul.

"And why do you have to be?" she asked, moving closer to the male so he could absorb some of her calming energy.

"Because it's what's expected of me?" he meant to say it as a statement, make the point that his court and his family were relying on his council now he had returned, yet his words came out more as a question, seeking truth from the empathetic features of the star.

"Expected of you? From your court? From your friends and family? Or is it just yourself telling you that."

She was right of course. Her piercing eyes already knowing the truth about the male before he did. Yet, where he usually would have found it annoying, there was something rejuvenating at the way she was able to understand him.

At the way she was able to peel apart the layers of his swirling thoughts, unstick the pages of the book who made him who he was. Mend the broken edges and the cracked spine. Her words acting as the hands which where smoothing the pages back to normal.

She turned her face to the sky, eyes casting beyond the overhanging canopy to meet the night sky. Silvery eyes lovingly looking upon her family.

"We never stopped waiting for you Rhysand. Fifty years we looked down to that mountain. Waiting for when the day would come that you returned from its depths."

His heart ached sweetly at the knowledge. A sad smile creeping onto his face at the awareness that the stars had longed for his return.

That whilst he had been trapped within the shadows of the mountain thinking of them, they had kept their eyes on his prison, waiting for him to return.

"You're not broken Rhys" she confided, "You're still the same man who went under the mountain, if not an even stronger one. You stared death in the face and you lived. You're here. Allow yourself to feel the pain. Give yourself the time to heal. There is light on the other side."

"But what if I can't find it?" Rhysand worried, "What if I get lost?"

"You never will. We will guide you Rhys, just as we always have."

She began to glow with more ferocity, Rhysand having to squint his eyes once more from the force of the light she emitted. Fear sparking inside his chest at the realization that she was leaving, that her time here was drawing to a close.

"No, you can't go! I need you!" he begged, doing his best to desperately stare into the light so she knew just how serious he was being.

"I'm always there Rhys. I'll watch over you every night, all you have to do is look up."

By this point the sheer brightness of her presence was too overwhelming, Rhysand having to turn around to avoid being blinded. His violet eyes turned to the ground where they locked onto the shadow of his figure. Onto him. Not the fractured male he had assumed crawled out from the mountain. But Rhysand, High Lord of the night court.

"We're always listening Rhysand, and every dream you send to us shall be answered. All you have to do is ask."

The light behind him vanished. Leaving the male standing in the dark solitude of the forest. But he wasn't alone. He knew that now as he turned his glistening eyes to the night sky.

Lips upturned in a peaceful smile.

"Thank you" He whispered gratefully to the stars.

And Rhysand could have sworn that the stars smiled back.

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand x reader #rhysand imagine #rhysand fanfic #rhysand acotar #rhysand #starfall #starfallweek2024

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hwanchaesong · 1 year ago

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━⁠☞🍽️First Course: It's always this, it's always that. The never ending demands you have failed to meet. How much more can you take of this bitter situation? 🥢

🎧: Olivia Rodrigo - Enough For You

wc: 1.4k

genre & warnings: angst angst angst (no happy ending here with hj), reader learns how love must work in a relationship, lovers to exes, marriage, other idols appearance, cursing, insecurity, just pure angst :D

a/n: this is a part of The Sour Restaurant series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

You watch Seonghwa and Mina sway to the romantic music for their first dance as a newly wed couple, and your heart flutters with joy seeing them so happy.

No, jealousy was never an option for this one because you've seen their journey together. How their relationship blossomed and now, they are entering a new phase of their lives together. It was truly magnificent.

"Hey. Mind if I join you?" a voice brought you out of your reminiscing, turning your head to look at the source and you were dumbfounded to the core.

The man that you have been avoiding for the rest of the day is standing in front of you in his full glory, an awkward yet hopeful smile on his face as he awaits your answer.

"Yeah, Hongjoong. Go Ahead." you replied, returning the smile before sipping the now warm champagne in the goblet that you have been ignoring for the past few minutes in lieu of admiring the pair in the middle of the reception area.

A moment of silence, and he dared to break it.

"It's been a while since I last saw you. How's life?" he inquired, making small talk and you fight off the urge to leave him there alone, but no can do, you're not gonna be childish in the presence of your ex-boyfriend.

"It was good," then you paused, blinking and correcting yourself, "no actually, I have been living the best life."

He was taken aback at your slightly ironic tone, not used to the way you're speaking, like you're a completely different person after your separation, and only a month has passed since.

"Well, as for me.."

He trails and you roll your eyes, you did not ask how he's doing and certainly not interested. But you maintain your poise, not wanting him to see that he's having a negative effect on you.

"I've been miserable... without you, at least."

You whipped your head to look at him incredulously, an aghast scoff coming out of you unconsciously at his audacity to tell you that.

Wasn't he the one who decided to end your relationship? He was the one who destroyed a 5-year long bond, so what the fuck is he on about?

"Are you serious?" he looked offended when you asked him that, like he was pulling a stunt or something but who could blame you?

"Why would I even joke about that?" he mutters back, frowning when your confused expression turns into an appalled one.

He really isn't serious, right?

After all the shit that you have to go through because he's always wanting, needing, and looking for more in you.

You've never really seen the importance of going outside all glammed up, your friends and family have always complimented your bare face. A natural beauty, as they liked to call you. Then you saw the girls that he dated back when he was younger, and it made you insecure.

So you learned how to do hair and make-up. Buying expensive ass hair curlers, eyeshadows, foundations, lipstick, brushes and all that shit just for him to say to not notice what you have been doing.

You observed him to no end, taking notes of his likes and dislikes. His favorite dishes and drinks, colors and style of clothing, heck, you even memorized the song that he's been humming to for days.

The books beside his bed and on his shelves weren't left untouched by you. Every page was read dutifully so you could relate to him whenever he tells you a story about a recent book that he had bought.

But it seems that your efforts were all in vain, as there is always something that is lacking in you.

"The colors of your outfit are not matching."

"Oh, I'm actually trying a new kind of coffee today."

"No, wrong author, I can't believe you'll make a mistake about this."

It may be the emotional attachment or the undying commitment that you hold dear for him are the reasons why you continued to change yourself for him. In your eyes, he is absolutely perfect, and you're determined to fit in his aesthetic.

You were determined to make him accept you.

But as they all say, the more you burn, the more you turn yourself into ashes that will inevitably crumble.

And the snapping point was nigh when you're tired and he couldn't even bat an eye on your well-being.

"Is that what you're wearing tonight?" Hongjoong eyes your appearance, black dress and clean hair and make-up, and if you ask anyone, they'll say that it's simple yet elegant.

Truth to be told, you don't have the energy to go all out for the event that you're attending. Still, you did your best to look presentable, and you did a great job, you think.

It was a hellish week for you. Finals are coming up and you're dying from all the studying, you're also struggling in your part-time job because of the lack of sleep. The worst one was the nagging of your parents, constantly asking you about your plans for the future.

Everything was taking a toll on you and the last thing that you wanna hear came from the very same person that should have been a source of comfort.

Hongjoong sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Just.. stay put in one place. I can't have you embarrassing me further than this."

There you go, you lost it.

"Embarrass you?" a deriding tone rode along with your words, "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Y/N, do you see yourself? I told you to do your best, and this isn't what I envisioned." he mumbles, expression souring when you exuded such an attitude in his words.

"Ah." it was flat, the way you said it, as you were suddenly hit with the realization that even when you restart and destroy yourself, it will never be fucking enough for him.

Gosh, he could've at least acted better. Feigned care and faked affection, but he can't even give you that.

And you're so fucking done with his bullshit.

"I will not come with you anymore. Go alone." you muttered, turning in your heels and heading to the bedroom.

"What? Y/N, stop being a child."

"No, Hongjoong. I need you to stop being a know-it-all, go fuck yourself."

That was the first time you stood up for yourself, and damn did it feel good. Like you're finally free from his restraints, and it's addicting.

He rolls his eyes at you, muttering a 'Suit yourself.' and exiting the house, not even an ounce of concern at your sudden outburst, and that was all you needed to make a cathartic decision.

That was the day you left without a trace, and you can finally breathe without him cursing you into the darkness of being inadequate.

He blew your phone up, messaging and calling you, and you were disappointed when it ceased just after a day. It says a lot about him though, on how much of an asshole he is.

Especially after a mere three days and he's already posting a new bimbo in his social media accounts.

At the present time, you're tempted to spill the alcohol in his face and probably ruin his expensive suit.

How could you even believe him that he's serious, that he's not kidding when he made you feel like a clown.

You chuckle, staring straight ahead, "Did your new girl dump you or something?"

"No. I just realized that it's different, you know? If it's not with you then it doesn't feel right." he admits, looking down at his shoes because frankly, he is ashamed of gazing into your eyes.

You couldn't help but ridicule him, standing up from your seat and straightening your dress, shooting him a dangerous glare, "I told you this before, and I'd repeat it a thousand times."

You smile wickedly, flipping him off, "Go fuck yourself."

You walk away, not paying attention to his desperate calls, the polite facade is gone in the wind and the only thing that you could think of is that you're not gonna allow him to break your heart and soul anymore.

You have only started to regain your true self, not the image that he wanted you to have, and you'll be damned if you'll let him get inside your head again.

Kim Hongjoong was a lesson, one that you'll never forget and never forgive. Maybe you loved him too much, but at least you now know that if someone truly loves you, that person will accept you for who and what you are.

taglist:

@acciocriativity @iarayara @stolasisyourparent @shakalakaboomboo @xdannix @nsixns

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tamelee · 1 year ago

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pls bottom naruto is disgusting stop drawing this ooc cringe

Eh? And it hadn't even been a full day.

Anyway, do you know what this means?:

It means… that I don’t give a damn about your whiny gibberish about this top/bottom bullshit, because it sounds incredibly silly. (And wrong because I draw both?)

It’s fine to have a preference, good for you (I have one too!), but if all you care about between a character-dynamic is the single notion which establishes a rule within a fandom that demands only this particular dick in only that particular booty and nothing else, while dividing yourselves between "us and them" while seeing the people who like the same exact characters as your "enemy" and treating them as such— well,

I have nothing to say to you, I couldn’t care less what you think about me and I don’t know you.

But for the sake of other creators who are often a target also, some which I know quit because of this… there is a little something I'd like to say about these servers:

You don’t think I (we) know what is said in there and by who? 👀 That your rules of "what is said on here stays here" with a bunch of people online that you don't know, is actually respected? Why do you think I never join any. And bet your ass that I'm not the only one. This constant fighting between NS/SN is such an embarrassment for this fandom, seriously. I hope you realize that.

Because, instead of encouraging a (new) creator to share something about the characters you claim to love (for fucking free) you go off chastise them for not “doing it right”/“your way”, pretending it's some unspoken commission no one knew of or was paid for. Instead of being happy there’s still so much creative contribution for characters from a story that ended years ago, you go complain under fanfics and dishearten writers, often grinning away with your little server-“friends” and make fun of work someone poured their heart in. Or, you huff, puff and breathe fire as you make plans to cancel them out of pure bitterness, to the point (especially new) creators are too scared and dispirited to ever share anything again. It's easy to do anonymously, aye? And if you think that doesn’t affect their lives and sends them right back into a crestfallen pit of dark hell because it prevents them to do/share the single thing in life that gave them a bit of joy, then...

Congratulations; you’re a heartless bastard.

And you, as a fan, did yourself dirty too.

Do you know how many people don’t want to share anything at all for this fandom because you people leave comments, tags, asks, tweets constantly complaining about an incorrect portrayal of the (in your opinion) only acceptable dynamic, like a bunch a brats? Do you? Because I’ve talked to quite a few of these discouraged creators, they have to hope for the best and pray they’re spared from your scrutiny. I receive it from both sides every now and then.

Again, congratulations: you’re the reason there’s less chance of you getting what you want in the first place.

Do you... really not realize?

The more you squabble with "your enemy" (lol) the more it affects the "us" you care about while the rest of us just bask in the glory that is SNS/NSN and couldn't care less about what you think/have to say. So, keep everyone else out of it and go mope elsewhere.

But, between you and me? There are better ways to share what you think is right. Make something yourself, because what's stopping you?

You’re perfectly capable, it doesn’t have to be art or a fic, maybe there’s just something in the story that you really enjoyed— write about it. Make a meta. Post the panel, show the moment that determined your undying love for this single dynamic and why— whatever. Because, wouldn't it be nice having someone encourage you to create something you like? 😬 Especially because you and your server feel so strongly about it? And then you don't have to depend on others either?

Wouldn't it be nice?

Well?

Hm!?

Try it, ffs.

#asktamelee #fandom talk

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theetherealbloom · 1 year ago

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AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 1 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter One: The Devil's Trumpet

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror,

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Sooooooo… I don’t know a lot of Game of Thrones lore… so I ask for your patience and kindness when it comes to this fic, cause I know there will be some inconsistencies. I would stay up late at night, staring at the ceiling of my bed, constantly imagining that I could save Oberyn Martell from the Mountain. This is the story that I have been dreaming about for almost two years now. This fic is loosely based off The Glory on Netflix, it’s a show all about revenge which felt fitting for a Game of Thrones fic. There’s not a lot of Oberyn Martell yet in this chapter… but the next one for sure he’ll be there ;)

Song: as good a reason by Paris Paloma

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

DRAGONSTONE, WESTEROS — 280 AC

From the moment your mother bartered you away to the Targaryens, you harbored no illusions about your worth in her eyes. Born to a minor lord, your father's coffers were never overflowing, and upon his death, your mother wasted no time in casting you aside like a discarded toy. It was a transaction as cold and calculated as any.

As a mere girl, you were thrust into servitude within the Targaryen household, your days filled with menial tasks and fleeting moments of respite. Your mother's indifference had left you with a bitter taste in your mouth, yet you dared not dwell on the past, for in the world of kings and queens, survival was a luxury afforded only to the cunning and the strong.

So, you learned to keep your head down, to swallow your pride and obey without question. In the grand tapestry of courtly life, you were but a humble thread, weaving your way through the intricacies of power and deceit with the practiced ease of one who knows their place in the hierarchy of the Seven Kingdoms.

News of the betrothal between Princess Elia Martell and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen spread like wildfire through the streets of King's Landing, igniting whispers of anticipation and speculation among the common folk. And when the day of their union finally arrived, the Great Sept of Baelor bore witness to a spectacle of unparalleled grandeur, as the noble houses of Westeros gathered to witness the marriage of two powerful dynasties.

In the wake of their wedding, the newlyweds departed for the ancient seat of Dragonstone, leaving a wake of excitement and intrigue in their wake. Within the stone walls of the island fortress, the air crackled with anticipation, as servants bustled about in a frenzy of preparation for the arrival of the newlyweds.

In the hushed corridors of Dragonstone, amidst the flurry of activity that heralded the arrival of the royal couple, you found yourself singled out from the bustling crowd of servants. With a sense of unease mingled with awe, you were ushered into the inner sanctum of Princess Elia's chambers, thrust into a position of unexpected privilege.

As you navigated the opulent surroundings, your heart pounded with a mixture of apprehension and determination. The eyes of the court seemed to follow your every move, their silent scrutiny a constant reminder of your newfound status.

Perhaps it was Princess Elia's keen observation or her innate sense of compassion that led her to notice the subtle cruelties inflicted upon you by your fellow servants. The older maids, with their twisted smiles and mocking jests, seemed to take pleasure in your misfortune, their actions a reminder of the harsh realities of life within the walls of Dragonstone.

Yet, in the presence of your new mistress, you found solace and sanctuary, a refuge from the cruelty of those who sought to belittle and demean you. With each passing day, as you tended to her needs with a quiet diligence, and you felt a sense of belonging that had long eluded you.

As Princess Elia's pregnancy progressed, you remained steadfast by her side, attending to her every need from dawn till dusk. With each passing day, the weight of responsibility rested heavily upon your shoulders, as you labored tirelessly to ensure her comfort and well-being.

When the time finally came for Elia to bring forth new life into the world, you stood beside her, a silent witness to the agony and ecstasy of childbirth. Her cries pierced the air like a dagger, each shriek a testament to her strength and determination. And though fear gripped your heart with each painful contraction, you remained steadfast in your resolve to see her through this trial.

With the arrival of Princess Rhaenys, the air seemed to shimmer with joy. As Elia cradled her newborn daughter in her arms, her eyes alight with love and exhaustion, you offered words of comfort and admiration.

"You have brought forth a beautiful child, Your Majesty," you murmured softly, your voice a gentle reassurance in the flurry of the birthing chamber. "You have done marvelously."

A weary smile graced Elia's lips as she gazed down at her precious daughter, her fingers tracing the delicate features of the babe's face. "Thank you for your kindness," she replied, her gratitude evident in every word.

And so, with the birth of Princess Rhaenys, a new chapter began in the lives of the Targaryen dynasty. As the babe was presented to Rhaegar's parents at court, the halls of Dragonstone echoed with the whispers of anticipation, a testament to the enduring legacy of House Targaryen.

As Queen Rhaella cradled her granddaughter with tender affection, her eyes alight with joy and pride, King Aerys the Second stood apart, his expression twisted with disdain. With a sneer of contempt, he recoiled from the child, his words dripping with venom.

"Smells Dornish," he remarked, his voice laced with disgust.

Your jaw clenched with suppressed anger at his callous words, a silent witness to the depths of his cruelty and madness. In that moment, as you beheld the scene unfolding before you, it became abundantly clear that the king's heart was as black as obsidian, his soul consumed by the darkness that lurked within.

TOURNEY AT HARRENHAL, THE YEAR OF FALSE SPRING, WESTEROS — 281 AC

At Harrenhal, nestled in the verdant heart of the Riverlands, Lord Walter Whent played host to a grand tournament, a celebration that spanned ten days and drew lords and ladies from across the Seven Kingdoms. Within the storied halls of the ancient castle, whispers of intrigue and ambition mingled with the clinking of goblets and the strains of music, each moment pregnant with the promise of both glory and treachery.

Amidst the throng of nobility, you moved with the silent grace of a shadow, your keen eyes and sharp ears attuned to every murmur and gesture. As a mere servant, you lingered on the periphery of the festivities, your presence all but unnoticed by the illustrious guests who reveled in the splendor of the occasion.

On the first night, as the Hall of a Hundred Hearths blazed with the warm glow of torchlight and the scent of roasted meats hung heavy in the air, you observed the comings and goings of the noble houses with a keen eye. From the stalwart Starks to the enigmatic Howland Reed, the northern lords mingled with their southern counterparts, their alliances and rivalries simmering beneath the surface like a pot ready to boil over.

Amidst the revelry, the figures of legend and lore moved with an aura of mystique and allure. Brandon Stark's easy charm drew Lady Ashara Dayne to the dance floor, while the shy Eddard Stark found himself swept up in the rhythm of the music. Benjen Stark's playful banter with his sister Lyanna elicited laughter and teasing, a glimpse into the bonds that bound the Stark siblings together.

And then, amidst the swirling throng of dancers, you caught sight of him: Prince Oberyn Martell, the embodiment of charm and charisma, his laughter ringing out like silver bells in the night. As he twirled Lady Ashara Dayne in a graceful waltz, his smile illuminated the room with its brilliance, casting a spell over all who beheld him.

But you knew better than to linger on such fleeting distractions, in the glittering spectacle of courtly intrigue, shadows were lurking in the corners, secrets waiting to be uncovered. And so, with a determined resolve, you turned your attention away from the beguiling prince and towards the task at hand, knowing that one must always be vigilant, lest they be consumed by the machinations of power and ambition.

The tourney at Harrenhal stretched across ten days, a spectacle of martial prowess and pageantry that captivated the hearts and minds of all who attended. In between the clash of swords and the thunder of hooves, champions emerged and legends were born, each contest a testament to the valor and skill of the knights who jousted and fought in the name of honor and glory.

From the seven-sided melee to the fierce competition of the joust, the tourney boasted a variety of events to entertain the crowds, including archery contests, axe-throwing competitions, and thrilling horse races. Yet, amidst the revelry and excitement, a sense of foreboding lingered in the air, a whisper of uncertainty that hinted at darker forces at play.

As the final moments of the tourney drew near, all eyes turned to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, the golden-haired champion whose prowess in the joust had earned him victory over four knights of the Kingsguard. Yet, it was not his triumph in the lists that would become the stuff of legend, but rather the fateful decision he made in the aftermath of his victory.

Standing amidst the gathered nobility, you watched in disbelief as Prince Rhaegar bypassed his own wife, Princess Elia, and bestowed the crown of blue winter roses upon Lyanna Stark, the betrothed of Lord Robert Baratheon. This was the moment all smiles died. The air crackled with tension as murmurs of confusion and outrage rippled through the crowd, a clear sense of unease settling over the festivities like a shroud.

In that moment, as the fragile peace of the realm hung in the balance, you felt a chill run down your spine, a premonition of the chaos and bloodshed that would soon engulf the Seven Kingdoms. For in the blink of an eye, the seeds of war had been sown, and the fate of Westeros hung in the balance.

DRAGONSTONE, WESTEROS — 282 AC

In the dimly lit chamber of Dragonstone, the air was thick with anticipation as Princess Elia fought through the pain of labor, her strength waning with each passing moment. Beside her, you stood as a silent sentinel, offering words of encouragement and support as she braved the trials of childbirth once more.

With each command to push, Princess Elia's resolve hardened, her determination a beacon of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to engulf her. Yet, it was evident that her delicate health posed a formidable obstacle, her frailty a constant reminder of the challenges she faced.

And then, amidst the hushed whispers of the attending maesters, the sharp cry of a newborn babe pierced the air, a herald of new life amidst the shadows of uncertainty. With a ragged sigh of relief, Princess Elia's weary frame slumped backward, her brow glistening with sweat as she drew in ragged breaths.

"It's a son," the maester announced, his voice ringing with reverence as he presented the newborn prince to his exhausted mother.

A flicker of joy illuminated Princess Elia's weary features as she reached out trembling hands to cradle her newborn son, her touch gentle and reverent as she welcomed him into the world. With tears of gratitude glistening in her eyes, she pressed her lips to his tiny forehead, whispering words of love and devotion as she held him close to her heart.

Prince Aegon was born.

KINGS LANDING, WESTEROS — 283 AC

Chaos erupted across the realm with the dawn of the new year, as news of Lyanna Stark's abduction by Prince Rhaegar Targaryen near Harrenhal spread like wildfire, igniting the flames of conflict between rival houses.

In the Vale of Arryn, the clash of steel and the cries of battle echoed through the mountain passes, as Lord Jon Arryn marshaled his forces to defend his homeland against the encroaching storm of war. Meanwhile, in the coastal city of Gulltown, the once-impregnable defenses crumbled under the relentless assault of Robert Baratheon and his forces, with the valiant Marq Grafton falling in the heat of battle.

With Gulltown secured, Robert Baratheon wasted no time in rallying his own banners to his cause, sailing swiftly to his ancestral seat of Storm's End to muster his forces for the coming conflict. Yet, even as he prepared for war, Robert's gaze turned to the stormlands, where the first major battle of the campaign awaited him.

At Summerhall, within the ruins of the ancient keep, Robert Baratheon faced his foes in a brutal clash of arms, his skill and valor turning erstwhile enemies into staunch allies. With Lords Grandison and Cafferen, as well as Silveraxe, pledging their fealty to his cause, Robert emerged victorious, his path to the north now clear as he prepared to join forces with Jon Arryn and the northern lords in their quest for vengeance.

All throughout the chaos of war, you bore witness to the dark machinations of the Mad King as he conspired to unleash destruction upon King's Landing itself. Ser Jaime Lannister, his white cloak billowing behind him, stood witness to the sinister plot hatched by the Alchemists' Guild, while the rest of the Kingsguard were scattered, their loyalty divided amidst the brewing conflict.

In the midst of this turmoil, Lord Qarlton Chelsted, Hand of the King, emerged as an unexpected ally, his friendship and concern for your safety a beacon of hope amidst the shadows of fear and uncertainty. Yet, as whispers of the king's treachery reached his ears, Lord Chelsted's conscience could no longer remain silent. With courage and conviction, he confronted the Mad King, pleading for mercy and reason in the face of madness.

But mercy was a foreign concept to Aerys Targaryen, his mind consumed by the flames of paranoia and tyranny. In a cruel and chilling display of power, he condemned Lord Chelsted to a fate worse than death, his screams echoing through the halls of the Red Keep as the flames consumed him.

In the wake of this horror, you found yourself thrust into the cruel embrace of the king's wrath, your cries of anguish falling upon deaf ears as the searing pain of the iron rod seared your flesh. Bound and helpless, you endured the agony of your punishment, a silent testament to the cruelty of those who held power over life and death.

When consciousness returned, it was to the gentle touch of Princess Elia, her soothing words a balm to your wounded soul. With tears of shame and gratitude, you sought to apologize for your weakness, but the kind princess silenced your protests with a gentle shush, her compassion a beacon of hope in the darkness.

"Rest now, dear child," she murmured, her voice a soft melody of reassurance. "You have tended to me with care and kindness. Now it is my turn to watch over you."

In the warmth of her embrace, you found solace amidst the pain, your heart heavy with the weight of your suffering but buoyed by the kindness of one who saw beyond the scars to the strength within. And as sleep claimed you once more, you whispered a silent prayer of thanks to the Seven for the gift of Princess Elia's compassion in a world consumed by cruelty and strife.

The rest of House Targaryen remained blissfully unaware of the dark schemes brewing within the walls of King's Landing. Queen Rhaella Targaryen, her eyes veiled to her husband's descent into madness, remained preoccupied with her own concerns, while Prince Rhaegar Targaryen marshaled his forces for the impending conflict.

In the depths of the city, hidden from prying eyes, the pyromancers of the Alchemists' Guild toiled in secrecy, their hands guided by the whispers of their mad king. Thousands of jars of wildfire, that volatile substance capable of unleashing unimaginable destruction, were meticulously placed in strategic locations throughout the city. From the shadows of the Dragonpit to the hallowed halls of the Great Sept of Baelor, and even beneath the very foundations of the Red Keep itself, the city of King's Landing was a powder keg awaiting the spark of war.

As the flames of conflict spread across the realm, each battle leaving its mark upon the land, the fate of the Seven Kingdoms hung in the balance. Amidst the chaos of the Stoney Sept, where narrow streets became blood-soaked battlegrounds, Prince Doran Martell grappled with the weight of his decision. Bound by duty to his king yet driven by love for his sister, Princess Elia, Doran reluctantly pledged his support to Prince Rhaegar's cause, his heart heavy with the knowledge of the dangers that lay ahead.

Following the fateful clash at the Trident, the Mad King's grip on power grew ever more tenuous. In a desperate bid to consolidate his rule, Aerys named Rossart, his favored pyromancer, as his new Hand of the King. Yet, his reign of terror would be short-lived, as the flames of rebellion engulfed the realm. With his wife, Queen Rhaella, and their young son, Prince Viserys, sent to the safety of Dragonstone, Aerys's grip on reality slipped further into the abyss, his madness driving him to unspeakable acts of cruelty and betrayal. Locked within the walls of King's Landing, Princess Elia Martell and her children, Rhaenys and Aegon, remained prisoners of a king consumed by paranoia and fear.

MAEGOR’S HOLDFAST, THE RED KEEP — 283 AC

Lord Tywin Lannister, who had stubbornly refused calls to arms from both the loyalists and the rebels until that point, appeared at the gates of King's Landing with an imposing army of twelve thousand men, mere hours before Eddard Stark would arrive. Lord Tywin professed his unwavering loyalty to King Aerys, and while Lord Varys, the cunning master of whispers, counseled Aerys to keep the gates locked, the king chose to heed the advice of the manipulative Grand Maester Pycelle, ordering the gates to be opened to Tywin's men. With the arrival of the forces from the westerlands, the city of King's Landing became a target for plunder and destruction.

As the realization that all was lost sank in, Aerys, driven by madness and desperation, commanded Rossart, a pyromancer, to unleash the hidden caches of wildfire throughout the city, hoping to reduce Robert's forces to mere "ashes and bones".

In a final act of cruelty, he tasked Ser Jaime Lannister, the eldest son of Lord Tywin and the sole remaining knight of his Kingsguard present in the city, with killing his own father and presenting his head as a gruesome gift. However, Jaime, torn between loyalty and reason, defied the mad king's command. Instead, he turned his blade on Rossart, knowing that Aerys would simply find another pyromancer to carry out his destructive plans. Realizing the imminent danger, Jaime rushed back to the Red Keep and put an end to Aerys' life in the throne room, just moments before soldiers from the westerlands stormed in.

Meanwhile, Ser Gregor Clegane, known for his massive size and brutal nature, accompanied by Ser Amory Lorch, made their way into Maegor's Holdfast. Their mission was to eliminate the remaining members of the royal family, solidifying Robert's claim to the throne and demonstrating House Lannister's complete abandonment of the Targaryens.

The resounding crash of the door being forcefully shattered reverberated through the room, punctuated by the shattering of glass and the piercing screams that filled the air. You, trapped in that room, could do nothing but bear witness to the horrific scene unfolding before your eyes. Gregor Clegane callously hurled you towards the fireplace, the searing heat scorching your skin, as he believed you would perish amidst the flames. Bleeding and disoriented, you lay on the floor, your vision blurred by the pain that engulfed you.

In the middle of pandemonium, you watched in horror as Princess Rhaenys, a mere toddler, was dragged from beneath her father's bed by the monstrous Clegane. The screams of the innocent child echoed through the room as she was mercilessly stabbed over fifty times. Aegon, Elia's son and the last hope for the Targaryen line, suffered an equally gruesome fate as Gregor brutally smashed his head against a wall. With Aegon's blood and brains still staining his hands, Gregor proceeded to rape Elia and ultimately ended her life by crushing her skull.

As Gregor and Amory callously departed, their hands stained with the blood of their heinous acts, they paid no heed to your crumpled form, assuming you were dead. Silently, you feigned death, your battered body lying motionless on the floor. The sound of their heavy footsteps slowly faded away, their hearts devoid of remorse, as they never once faltered or looked back.

With fresh burns scorching your body, the searing pain and stinging sensations intensified, causing you to vomit on the side of the bedroom, overwhelmed by the horrifying sight before you. The people you held dear, the ones who reciprocated your affection, were now lost and lifeless, torn away from you forever.

In a state of despair, you crawled and stumbled, driven by an unknown force or perhaps a touch of divine intervention. Miraculously, you managed to navigate the treacherous secret passages of the sacked city, escaping the clutches of danger. The reason for your survival remained a mystery, lost in the chaos that surrounded you. Perhaps it was your unwavering determination or the small flicker of hope that compelled you to keep moving forward, to honor Elia's memory and the children who were denied the chance of a life.

You couldn't recall how you found yourself on the shores near Blackwater Bay, gazing out at the vast expanse of the Narrow Sea. Kneeling in the cool, wet sand, you felt the water recede, stinging your burns and prompting an uncontrollable urge to scratch, causing fresh blood to flow. Your bruised stomach throbbed with pain.

Exhausted from the relentless pursuit of survival, you yearned for respite, for an end to the constant struggle. Slowly, you began to crawl toward the ocean, knowing that the cold embrace of the water would bring solace, relieving the incessant itch of your scars. What more could you desire? This, perhaps, was the only path left.

But you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Standing at the precipice, you let out a piercing cry, releasing your anguish into the air. With every ounce of strength, you struck your arms, the very arms that bore the visible reminders of your torment.

In that moment, you chose to defy the darkness that threatened to consume you, refusing to succumb to despair. At the edge of the world, you stood tall, your cries echoing across the empty beach, a testament to your resilience and determination to get revenge.

BRAAVOS, ESSOS — 287 AC

In the ancient city of Braavos, where secrets whispered through the narrow alleys and the canals flowed with mysterious tales, you found solace amid the chaos. Once a believer in the gods, you had come to realize that their existence was nothing more than a facade, a comforting illusion for the masses.

Having scraped together enough coin, you secured passage on a ship departing from Blackwater Bay, leaving behind a turbulent past and seeking refuge in the anonymity of Braavos. The city welcomed you with its vibrant streets and diverse inhabitants, offering a chance at a new beginning.

From baker to cleaner, nurse to animal keeper, and occasionally even a tutor to minor Ladies, you took on any job that would sustain you. Your tireless work ethic caught the attention of the nobles, who saw value in your dedication and entrusted you with their precious steeds. However, the privilege of working for the Lords came at a cost, as some would cross boundaries and attempt to take advantage of your vulnerability. Yet, you stood strong, extracting your payment and moving on.

Throughout the years, you meticulously saved every coin, seeking out the teachings of various assassin guilds and skilled swordsmen. Disguised as a boy, you delved into the secrets of High Valyrian, honed your swordsmanship, and mastered the art of poisons. The guilds taught you to discern truth from lies, and to control your facial expressions, laying the groundwork for your vengeful plans.

As you went about your duties in the bustling stables, you tried to steal moments to study the intricate notes on potions, mumbling the descriptions to yourself. Suddenly, a sharp smack landed on the back of your head, causing you to wince in pain. "Quit your foolishness and focus on your work!" your employer reprimanded.

"Don't be too hard on her! Look at all the burn scars on her legs and arms," one of the older stableboys interjected, coming to your defense. Gritting your teeth, you offered a quick apology, knowing that it was best to comply with your employer's wishes.

Resuming your tasks, you discreetly tucked away the notes into your pocket, their pages smudged with the grime of your surroundings. Your determination burned within you, fueled by the scars that adorned your body, a constant reminder of the pain and suffering that fueled your quest for revenge.

BRAAVOS, ESSOS — 294 AC

The scent of salt hung heavy in the air, you had grown up immersed in their language and customs. Fuelled by a thirst for knowledge, you clandestinely absorbed every morsel of information you could gather about the events unfolding in Westeros. Alongside your studies, you dedicated yourself to the art of combat, honing your skills with weapons and tirelessly toiling in a variety of jobs that allowed you to pursue your clandestine education.

As the boat that would carry you away from Braavos was being prepared, one of the enigmatic faceless men, who had taken an interest in your journey due to the scars that adorned your flesh, approached you. His hooded eyes locked onto yours as he inquired, "Are you prepared for what lies ahead?"

A mixture of determination and uncertainty danced in your gaze as you responded, "They seek servants for the Red Keep. The time is drawing near, and I must gather further intelligence on a select few. It appears that more than just the Lannisters are entangled in this web of power." The faceless man nodded, acknowledging the complexity of the situation.

With a silent understanding, the boat began its departure, carrying you across the waters of the Narrow Sea. Standing at the bow, your eyes fixated on the horizon, a sense of purpose and anticipation surged within you as you braced yourself for the unknown challenges that awaited.

RED KEEP, KING'S LANDING, WESTEROS — 298 AC

In the hallowed halls of the Red Keep, where whispers of power and deceit echoed through the stone, you had spent years serving as a humble maid, donning long-sleeved dresses regardless of the season that enveloped Westeros.

Maintaining a low profile was imperative to the success of your clandestine plan. As you arranged your quarters, a haven of secrecy, you opened a worn journal containing a meticulously compiled dossier. Every page adorned with detailed sketches and meticulous notes on the individuals implicated in the tragic demise of Princess Elia. Royals, lords, and ladies from every corner of Westeros found their place within those ink-stained pages. Their routines, preferences, lovers, and dark histories were meticulously chronicled, forming a tapestry of knowledge that would fuel your pursuit of vengeance.

Locking your quarters behind you, you ventured into the mist-shrouded gardens, a white datura flower delicately cradled in your hand. As you spun the delicate bloom, the devil's trumpet, between your fingers, a solemn chant escaped your lips, carried away by the ethereal fog. "Anyone who inflicts harm upon their neighbor shall bear the same injury."

An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. A fracture for a fracture. The concept of just retribution swirled in your mind, the very embodiment of justice. Yet, a subtle smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. Was such fairness truly fitting? Was it not too generous, too even-handed? After all, fairness is a fleeting concept in this treacherous game, isn't it?

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