#he just gets sad for no reason and i love him for that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ggirlthatgotaway · 2 days ago

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Not Cold Any Longer (modern au)

summary: Aemond is that guy you’ve known since you were kids, the one you’ve never talked to and that had gotten fucking weird. But you end up becoming friends, and you find out that not only he’s right about your shit boyfriend, but also that he’s a fucking ride that can keep you boiling hot all the time.

trigger warning: explicit language, mention of useless men, mention of Franz Ferdinand, sexual content, name calling, choking, slapping, loving, maybe other things.

word count: 6.2k

note: Aemond is not hotd-Aemond but the FontainesDC-hottie-freak (fuck me<3) . also english is my 3rd language and i haven’t written a complete smut since i was 13 (read, don’t judge) so yeah do tell me what you think

-💎

The cold air of the night was hitting your face, and it stung your skin despite your best efforts to hide it in the collar of your jacket. You didn’t want to go back home, you wanted to keep walking, to go to him.

From your house to his, there was a six-minute drive, which meant a forty-five-minute walk for someone who walked quickly. Perfect, you thought to yourself as you glanced around the dark street, not a sound to be heard.

Your mind raced back to earlier that day, to the reason why you were walking to his house. His words replayed in your mind over and over: “Don’t you fuckin’ understand?! Really?” he had shouted, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open, but a hint of sadness was lacing them. He had tried to hide it, as always, like the rest of his emotions.

He had already told you that you were able to understand him despite his precautions- “I don’t fancy how ye keep readin’ me mind, love.” he had said with a soft grin and happy eyes. But that was a completely different circumstance; it was something light, about why he had started inviting you to gigs instead of bringing his friend, Sal.

Anyway, him telling you that you didn’t understand had your heart twisting in pain, both when those words had left his mouth and when you thought about them again.

He had gotten angry because of what you’d told him had happened with Ed, your boyfriend. His eyes had widened when you told him he’d left you waiting for an hour yesterday, because he ‘got distracted with his friends, and forgot to pick you up from your shift’. It was your anniversary.

But that wasn’t why Aemond had shouted to you that you didn’t understand- that came after. Earlier today, your phone had rang with his call: he had told you he was nearby, that his Ma had asked him to buy some bread before leaving for her shift, and if you minded if he stayed over a bit.

Spending time with him had become the highlight of your day recently, so a smile had curved your lips as you told him yes. He had arrived with a CD in his hands, “I know you like this shit.” he told you then, showing you the new album by Franz Ferdinand you had been planning to buy for weeks now.

You had gasped, and started covering his cheeks with kisses despite his half-hearted efforts to get away from your grip- half-hearted because his arm had already sneaked to hold your waist. “You’re mental.” you had told him with wide eyes, but he had just tutted and shrugged, leaving the CD on your desk and throwing himself on your bed.

“How did it go with the eejit?” he had asked you then, referring to Ed and your anniversary. His arm had been covering his eyes, but he took it away and looked at you when you hadn’t answered. “What did he do?” he had asked with a sigh.

You had briefly glanced at him before letting your gaze fall on the white and burgundy sheets of your bed. He wasn’t one who let go of this kind of things- not with you, at least- and you had known an answer was necessary if you weren’t planning on having him shut up and stare into your eyes for three hours.

So you had sighed heavily and brought your eyes back on his, “He didn’t show up.”

At your words, he had looked like he had stopped breathing. Then, he’d sunken his teeth into his lips, closed his eyes and let out a low and deep breath. “You’re aware he’s still breathing because you want him to?”

His eyes had opened again, and he’d directed them to you, waiting for your answer. When you’d nodded, he had continued: “Changed your mind?” he’d asked you, his tone slightly pleading, with a hint of hope. But you’d shaken your head.

You had seen his eyes closing again, and he’s let out another deep breath. “What did you do, then?”

“I walked.”

Silence had filled the air between you two once again, until he’d straightened up and sat on the edge of your bed. He had ran a hand on his face and settled his elbows on his knees, “You walked… Didn’t call me?”

“It’s just a ten minute walk.” you had tried to explain with a shake of your head, but he had stopped you.

“And now your throat aches.”

You had bitten the inside of your cheek at that. You were always cold, always wore two pairs of trousers to go to school, always had as many blankets as possible on your bed. Aemond knew, and each time you stepped foot into his house he had the kettle on, and the blanket that held the most warmth was folded and waiting on the couch, and he asked you right away if you wanted that ugly but incredibly warm sweater he never wore.

“It doesn’t.” you had told him, and it was true, because you were still healing from the last time you had the flue, and your antibodies were still strong.

“Mh.” he had said, nodding. You had never seen anger simmering quite as much as it did in him in that moment. “Why don’t you fucking leave him, mh? Still fuckin’ think he deserves you?” he had said, his voice rising at every word. “I’m genuinely curious, love- tell me.”

“Aemond…” you had said, interrupting yourself with a sigh. He had got up from the bed and walked over to the window, leaning his hands on the ledge. “I like him when he’s with me.”

“Well, that’s a fucking pathetic thing to say.” he had told you before turning around, his eyes as hard as ice, “That’s because you can’t find a bloody nice thing to say ‘bout him.”

“He’s still me boyfriend, though-“ you had tried to say before his shouts filled the room.

“And he shouldn’t fuckin’ be! It’s your fault he still is,” he had said, pointing a finger in your direction, “and it makes me fucking mental just thinking about it.”

“Then don’t, Aemond! It’s none of your fucking business!” you had tried to retort, but you had told it to yourself how daft your words had sounded, since it was Aemond the one always available to listen to you yap about how shite Ed made you feel while barely containing tears in your eyes.

“Shut up, don’t even fucking play this card with me!” he had yelled at you before taking a deep breath and pushing his black hair out of his face. That still hadn’t tamed the tone of his voice when he’d spoken again, “Don’t you fuckin’ understand?! Really?!” his eyes had been wide as he looked at you with a hint of desperation in hie voice, a hand held out to you in hope.

But your brows had furrowed, and your eyes had expressed nothing but confusion as you’d looked at him.

His hand had fallen and slapped his thigh, “Leave him, or don’t fucking talk to me again.”

He had walked away then, leaving you with wide eyes and the security that those words weren’t what he had been thinking about when he had told you that you didn’t understand.

And you admitted it to yourself as you walked to Aemond’s house at midnight, with the freezing cold of February seeping into your bones, that you might have waited a bit much to act on whatever you needed to act on.

But you did pat yourself on the shoulder for the strong punch you’d landed on Ed’s nose about an hour ago- which, in all honesty, was something you’d learnt from Aemond and the lessons he gave you so you could ‘have a wee chance to survive if they attacked you on the street’, if someone was to say it with his words.

After you had exited Ed’s house, a mischievous grin plastered on your lips, your thoughts had gone to Aemond right away, thinking about his laugh when you would have told him what you’d done. Your smile had fallen.

But it was fine, you told yourself as you walked faster in the dark night, because you were going to fix everything.

The truth was, you had never felt quite as empty as you did when Aemond had left your room that evening. And you had already known there that you needed to go to Ed’s and leave him- which you realised hurt your hand way more than it did your heart.

Aemond was right. Fucking Aemond Targaryen, the lad that wanted to talk to nobody at school except for you and Sal Quinn, the one that wanted no glimpse of a relationship, was right.

You needed to walk faster.

You took out your phone and flipped it open, pondering on whether or not to call him and ask him to pick you up on the street where Mae Allbrook lived. Realising that would have needed to stay still for at least three minutes as you waited for him, you flipped your phone closed and put it back into the pocket of your jeans.

You definitely didn’t do it because Aemond would have screamed at you for the entire ride back to his house- or better yet, for the ride and for the ten minutes he’d spend heating your hands up by rubbing them between his.

No, it was better to make your grand entrance at his house and have him freak out there, while you sat in front of the fire in his living room.

You let out a sigh when you saw the old, ruined red car, weakly lit by the nearby light pole. You almost ran to the door and jumped over the low gate, before taking out your phone again.

“Aemond,” you said when he answered. You heard the sigh he let out, and you understood how affected he, too, was about what had happened earlier that day. “I’m outside.”

He didn’t close the call after those words left your mouth, but you heard a stomp, and understood that he hadn’t even closed the call before launching himself off his bed and running downstairs.

The front door swung open in front of you, making your hair fly in front of your face. He didn’t wait for you to step inside, deciding instead to take matters into his own hands and grab your jacket to pull you in roughly.

Before you knew, he was muttering to himself behind you, his hands passing over your thighs over and over to heat them up. “You feel your hands yet?” he asked gruffly, not even trying to hide how he still remembered your last conversation word by word.

You nodded and said, “I’m not that cold.” but he tutted and shook his head, not believing a word. “Care to tell me the fuck you’re doing?” he finally asked.

“Apologising.” you answered after some seconds, slightly distracted by the way his wide palms transferred heat into the skin of your thighs. “You were right.”

You turned your head to look at him behind you, and he let out a sigh, stilling his movements and leaving his hands on the top of your legs. He threatened to move them to your hips, his movements slow and unsure, before his warm palms left your body and he got up on his feet, making you look at him from the floor, “I’m tired. Tell me if I have to bring you home or you crash here.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, getting up from the floor and grabbing your own arm with a hand. “Can I stay over?”

You saw the hesitation in his eyes as they met yours, but then he nodded towards the stairs, and you followed him to his room.

“Change.” he told you with an assertive tone once you reached his room, putting a hand in his wardrobe and throwing that ugly sweater and a pair of sweatpants at you.

You pressed your lips together to stifle a grin at his annoyed actions. But as you went to the bathroom to change, you couldn’t help but think about what his expression would be like when you finally told him.

His room was always quite dark and warm, and the dim light that came from the tank he kept Vhagar in made everything seem blue.

You approached him slowly, nibbling at the skin inside your lower lip as his eyes went from the ash tray set on his nightstand to you.

You could see the smoke of his Benson and Hedges coming out of his nose and going upwards. “Come here.” he said then, slightly defeated, but only half-heartedly.

So you climbed onto his bed and he reached out with a hand to touch your waist. “Still cold…” he muttered to himself before deciding to bring you closer to him.

He put off his cigarette on the ashtray and held you with his arms wrapped around you, a hand on the curve of your hip. “I’m sorry.” you told him, looking in his blue eyes you couldn’t quite see.

He didn’t say anything about your apology, but you felt his hand twitch on your hip. “What did you think you were doing, walking alone at this time?”

His features were lightened by those soft blue hues, making the sharp angles of his face even more so. You raised your hand and trailed your finger on his cheekbone. His skin was hot, and you felt him stop breathing at your touch. Your hand dropped back on the bed, “I left him.”

You started to worry when you didn’t see him starting to breathe again, but then he talked, “You’re not lying?”

When you shook your head in no, his hand tightened on your hip drastically. “Fuckin’ finally.” he said, letting out a deep breath. “What did he do?”

“Nothing,” you said with a shrug, “He just sat there, holding his nose after I punched him.”

You saw Aemond’s eyes widen, and the corners of his mouth curled up until they formed a wide grin. He started laughing, his chest shaking as he shook his head. “Wonderful woman…” he muttered, leaning his mouth on your shoulder, making goosebumps spread wildly on your skin.

He started caressing your hip then, going dangerously close to your arse as he always did. But still, what you felt was a deep sense of peace there: at his house, in his arms, surrounded by the smell of smoke and green tea that clung to his skin.

You’d known each other since you were kids, since way before he had started dying his hair black and got into the metal music he had definitely been listening to before you called him.

But you had never really talked until four months ago. You had your friends, he had his, all outside of school, and you both had never bothered trying to talk. It had all changed in a matter of days after an English Literature project.

It felt weird when you thought about it, trusting someone the way you did him after so few time, even if you’d known him for ever, because you’d never really talked.

“You know I love you, right?” you said then. It was out of the blue, really, but you couldn’t help it.

Those three words seemed to hit him more than you intended them to. He paused the movement of his hand on your hips and cleared his throat, straightening himself slightly. He still didn’t answer, though, but simply sighed and left a kiss on your forehead.

“I don’t care about you saying it back: I just want you to know I love you.” you said hurriedly but calmly, distancing yourself slightly to look at him, finally able to do it properly since your eyes adjusted to the dark.

He let out a snorted laugh at your words, and shook his head. “D’you think I don’t love you?” he asked you, his voice low and husky. His grip on your hip tugged you close so you were sitting on top of him, “That’s not the problem, princess.”

“I don’t understand-“ you tried to argue, but he laughed again, interrupting you.

“You do, love… You do.” he said before leaning close to your ear. His nose brushed against your earlobe, his lips against your jaw as his breath ghosted your skin and he murmured lowly, “You got me wrapped around your finger... Got me doing whatever you want me to.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Your hand was gripping his shoulder and your nails were definitely digging in his skin through his sweater, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“And now…” he whispered , interrupting himself to let out an unironic laugh and shaking his head. “Now you’re sitting on my lap, pretending not to notice how fucking hard my cock is for you.”

You were breathing fast, so fast you felt the blood pumping in your ears, and his words did nothing to quell that. His smirk remained on his lips as he brought his cold blue eyes back to yours.

He tilted his head to the side, a strand of his dark, dyed hair falling over his eyes. “What do you plan on doing about it, then?” he asked, the teasing tone still present. But the way his eyes darkened, the way his grip on your hip tightened, told a different story.

Was it real what he’d said? That he loved you, craved you so much that his cock was rock hard after barely five minutes of you sitting on him?

“About…” you said, pressing your lips together, trying to gather the courage to complete the sentence. You found it when the corner of his mouth quirked up again and both his hands found their way to your arse, squeezing it and pulling you flush against him. The action made you let out a small sigh, but you decided not to let yourself fear him, so you raised a hand and brought the strand of black hair away from his face. “What do I plan on doing about your cock?” you said in a whisper.

His mouth curved into a smirk and he breathed out another laugh due to your words. He was usually the dirty one, even if you still didn’t exactly know how dirty he was. “Yeah, ‘bout that…” he confirmed with two slight nods of his head. “Now that you’re fully aware of what you do to me.” he added, letting out a deep breath.

One hand remained firm on your arse, keeping you right where he wanted you, while the other moved up to your face. He traced the line of your jaw with his thumb, feeling the softness of your skin and the pulse quickening beneath it. In that moment, all the cold you had felt as you had walked to his house for forty minutes was completely forgotten, disappeared in your mind like ash after a breath.

“What do you think I should do?” you asked, swallowing harshly. You suddenly felt stupid for the question, and you did even more when he snorted out another laugh.

He leaned forward, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "Why don't ye use your imagination, Princess?" he whispered huskily. The hand on your face slid back, cupping your cheek as his thumb continued to brush against your lower lip.

“Okay…” you whispered out in a breath as you nodded. Then you slowly leaned into the brief distance that separated you two, brushing your lips against his before pressing them into a kiss.

It was rushed, definitely stupid, but you wanted to try and see how it felt. His lips had always looked rough to you, chipped and bloodied in winter, but now, against yours, they were soft, boiling hot, sweet and incredibly inviting.

His hand tightened its grip on your arse, pulling you even closer to his body as his other hand tangled itself in your hair, angling your head for better access to your mouth.

His kiss was even gentle, which surprised you, but more than anything it made you want more. When his grip on your hair tightened and pulled on it just enough to make you wet but not enough to hurt excessively, a moan came up your throat and overturned into his mouth.

He pulled away before capturing your lower lip between his teeth and letting it go. His hand slapped your arse, making you jolt forward and making him laugh. “Slut.” he muttered, closing the distance between you two again.

You let out a chuckle against his lips, and started grinding your hips against his. Right away, he groaned and pulled you closer still, eagerly helping you with your movements.

His other hand moved from your cheek to your neck, fingers gripping gently but firmly. "Is that what you want, princess?" he growled, breaking the kiss briefly to let you breathe. His eyes bore into yours, dark with lust. "You want to feel me inside you?" he asked, voice strained and husky.

You were slightly startled by his hand around your throat, by his thumb stroking your pulse point like it was the most fragile and precious thing in his world. You bit your lower lip and your hands wrapped around the wrist of the hand that was holding you, which made his lips part in what looked like feral hunger, before nodding.

Your response was everything he needed to hear. His hand on your neck tightened slightly as he claimed your mouth once more, kissing you harder. His hips thrust upward, pushing his erection against your core, as if to emphasize his words. He let go of your hair, his hand trailing down your back until it reached your waist.

His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, nipping at your skin before tracing a scorching path down to your neck. He loved the way you moaned when he bit you there, and he did so again, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. "Fuck…" he breathed against your skin, his fingers digging into your waist. He seemed to need to feel you, to make sure this whole thing was real. "Use your words, Princess."

A whine escaped your lips before you were able to reply, and you felt completely daft other then drenched between your thighs. “Yes,” you said, your words like a plea, “I want you inside of me.”

His eyes bore in yours for two seconds before he pushed you off him, making you land on your hands on the mattress. He pulled himself up, standing on his knees on the bed, “Take your clothes off.” he ordered with a nod of his head as he stared down at you, his tone leaving no space for arguing.

With a heavy chest, mouth parted and eyes wide, you complied. You unzipped his black jumper, trying not to be clumsy as you slipped it off your arms.

Still, Aemond seemed unable to wait, because he quickly threw the jumper off the bed before his fingers found the bow you tied to the string of his sweatpants.

He undid it as you took your shirt off. “How many fuckin’ pair of trousers you’ve got on?!” he growled, both bothered and amused when he found a pair of leggings under the sweats.

You let out a chuckle as he did the same, shaking his head as he pulled the first layer of fabric off roughly, before doing the same with the second.

He stopped when you were left with only your underwear, and he stared bluntly, pressing his lips together as his chest raised and fell heavily.

You moved your right leg to brush its calf against his clothed thigh, your eyes on his. His hissed in a breath, his hand gripping your thigh like he wanted to rip off the meat to eat it. “It’s your turn.” you whispered as you let your leg wander higher.

The action gained you his grip to tighten and a slap to be delivered to your thigh. But he complied, pulling his t-shirt off from the collar and blindly throwing it somewhere before pulling down his trousers.

He put a hand on your knee and settled between your thighs, crushing his mouth against yours once again. The roughness of Aemond's touch sent sparks flying across your skin, igniting a fire within you that burned out of control. He pressed you further into the mattress, his body aligning perfectly with yours. You could feel every inch of his bare torso, each ripple of muscle and scar, his heat enveloping you like a living flame.

His grip on your thigh loosened and his fingers went up until they reached you inner thigh, teasing you as if he wasn’t dying for it. You whined against his mouth, squirming under his touch.

He chuckled against your mouth, and he gave into your desires in a matter of seconds, sliding his hand inside your drenched knickers and exploring your folds. He breathed heavily on your wet lips after he had to break the kiss. He looked at you as he slipped a finger inside, and watched intently as your face contorted in pleasure.

“Think, Princess…” he drawled, his lips brushing against yours before doing the same on your cheek. He added another finger, making you let out a moan. “Think of each touch I give you tonight…”

He stopped his movements temporarily, taking his fingers out and making you gasp, to grab the sides of your knickers and pull them down and off roughly.

His mouth reached your neck while his fingers found your cunt once again, entering you in such a beautiful way your eyes rolled back. He started pumping his fingers in and out roughly, making your breath catch in your throat before it came out in a broken scream.

“Think of this, and then back at that fuckin’ halfwit that you let inside this beautiful cunt.”

Your wetness was completely coating his fingers at that point, and he seemed to enjoy it like nothing else, or so it seemed as you looked at him through half-closed eyelids.

He continued his assault, his thumb pressing against your clit, rubbing circular motions on it, as his lips left kisses, hot and wet, on the skin of your neck. They made you remember how his hand felt wrapped around your throat, and you found yourself craving it once again.

The memory and the sensations he was giving you only fuelled your wetness, and your orgasm drew closer. “Aemond…” you breathed out, your cunt clenching desperately around his fingers.

Just as if he was reading your mind, his lips left the soft skin of your neck to leave space for his free hand. You let out an embarrassing whimper when his fingers wrapped securely under your jaw.

“I think you’re liking it too much…” Aemond groaned, his voice husky and gravel as his fingers worked restlessly inside your pussy. “I should stop.”

Your hand found the wrist of the hand that was holding your neck when those words left his mouth, and you let out an irritated moan, kicking his side with a trembling leg.

He let out a small laugh, his pupils so dilated that his eyes appeared black. Aemond’s fingers went faster, making you let out a strangled yell as your eyes stayed fixed on his.

Your legs threatened to close, but he avoided it by getting closer, his breath now ghosting over your face. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” he groaned, crushing your lips against his as your pussy spasmed around his long fingers.

He kept them there after you climaxed, slowing the movements of his fingers progressively before sliding them out. He brought them to his lips like an instinctive motion.

He groaned at the sight of your flushed face, your eyes glazed with pleasure, and the way your body still trembled from the orgasm he'd given you, and definitely even for the taste of you he was licking from his fingers. You bet he loved reducing you to this state - wanting, needing, begging for him.

"Fuck," he breathed out, getting off the bed and taking off his boxers. His cock was hard, veiny, and you found yourself thinking of it inside you, stretching you out while you felt every singe thing he wished you to.

He opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a condom, opening the plastic with his teeth and discarding both the useless pieces carelessly on the floor. He slid it on, barely looking at what he was doing before he nodded at you, “Take that shit off.”

You furrowed your brows and looked down, noticing you still had your bra on. You were still breathing heavily, but you quickly did as he’d asked.

He moved back on the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight as he approached you with hunger. He was like a madman- you had never seen him like this before.

He kissed you again, hooking his hand under your right knee and folding its leg over the other. It provided him with the perfect view of your ass and face, and it seemed to be the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen as he broke the kiss to take a look at you.

One hand found the top of your thigh while he used the other to hold himself up on the mattress. He leaned down and wrapped his lips around your nipple, making your hand fly to his hair and a gasp escape your throat.

His hand left your thigh and went to his cock, guiding it to your pussy. He teased your already tender flesh with his tip, making you both groan.

His mouth disclosed around your nipple and he lied his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck…” he breathed out once again, shaking his head before straightening up.

His hand went back to your thigh, and he ground himself against you. His head rolled back and his eyes closed at the contact, his mouth fell agape.

And you, with his cock almost inside you and his hand pinning your body to his will, couldn’t help but look at him: at the sweat that clung to his body, at his long hair you craved to pull, at his fingers that had just made you cum like nobody ever did.

When he opened his eyes again, they locked on yours right away, staring down at you. Then, he thrust inside you in one, swift and steady motion, filling you up with his cock just like you wanted him to. You weren’t cold any longer.

You didn’t try to conceal the scream if pure pleasure that escaped your lips at his motion, and he didn’t hide his. “Shit, Aemond!” you moaned, brows furrowed as you looked up at him.

“Don’t look at me like that…” he grunted, punctuating his phrase with a thrust, making your body jolt forward despite the way his hand was holding you tightly. “I’m already trying not to cum.”

His words made you cheeks heat up and a grin spread on your lips as he began to thrust inside you. Your head fell back onto the pillow, feeling every vein on his cock despite the latex separating you- maybe you were fooling yourself, but you were fine with it.

Aemond’s thrusts left you both breathless, and filled the room with the sound of skin meeting skin in perfectly rough motions.

Nothing had ever felt as good as the feeling of him inside you, and the way you squirmed and gasped beneath him made him understand that perfectly, other than making you feel like a pathetic whore.

His hand on your thigh was leaving red marks that had the shape of his fingers, and you loved it. “Please… Harder.” you found yourself begging, and he complied.

His hand left your thigh, gave your ass a firm slap before balling into a fist and pressing into the mattress to hold him up. His other hand reached your hair and grabbed a fistful, twisting it between his fingers before tugging on it sharply, making you yelp and arch your back.

“You asked for it, pretty girl.” he said with a wicked grin, pounding into your with more force than before. His hips collided against the skin of your ass he’d just slapped, making it even redder.

In response, your hand wrapped around his arm and your nails dug into the fair skin, making him grunt and pull even harder on your hair.

He fucked you harder as a form of punishment which he knew would only make things better for both of you. “Look at me, Princess.” Aemond breathed out the order, his chest heaving and his mouth open.

When you did, he let out an uncontrolled moan and gave you a particularly hard thrust, “Who owns you now, mh?”

The dirty talk, the rough treatment - it all fueled your desire, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. That’s why your lips curved into a grin.

But he wasn’t playing, because his fist opened and he slapped your ass again, “Answer.” he ordered. There, you understood it was all about pleading you to tell him, to reassure him, that Ed was gone from your mind, that he was the one inhabiting it.

“You do.”

At your words, and your burning eyes that accompanied them, Aemond grinned, turning you onto your stomach and pulling you ass up, all without exiting your tight heat.

He pushed your hips down until your chest pressed down on the soft comforter, and he started pounding again.

The change of position made your mind go blank, and your eyes almost saw white for how deep he reached.

He leaned in, still slamming into your with from behind like wild animal- his grin gone. “Who owns you, Princess?” he asked you again with the most guttural voice you’d ever heard coming from him.

“You!” you screamed with the few air and fewer focus the new position left you, as you felt your second orgasm approach like a storm above a deep sea.

“Good girl.” Aemond breathed out, his thrusts becoming erratic and his grip tightening as he let out a loud moan. His pace quickened, his breathing turned even more ragged, and you could feel him as he started losing control.

“Aemond!” you yelled, your voice slightly muffled by the pillow pressed against your cheek.

Hearing you scream his name, seeing the pleasure on your face, sent Aemond made him go even more mental than before: he pounded into you harder, faster, the bed rocking underneath the ferocity of his movements.

And your vision narrowed, your thoughts filled only with images of him and the feeling of his cock pounding restlessly inside you as your cunt clamped down around his cock, like you wanted him stretching you wider, breaking you even more.

The sensation of your second orgasm hitting you sent him over the edge, and with few powerful thrusts and a low growl, he came, filling the condom up to the brim.

Spent, he let himself fall on the bed, careful not to hurt you as he pulled out and wrapped his arms around your waist, making your back press against his chest.

He buried his face into your neck, breathing heavily. You bit your lip hard, trying to calm down and speak, “You were slightly better than Ed.”

You felt him let out a breathed laugh against your neck, but that didn’t save you from the slap he gave your ass. “Shut up.”

You jolted forward but chuckled. Then freed yourself from his embrace, making him frown and lock his eyes on you.

You scooted down, enjoying his confused expression and showing it with a grin, until you lied with your chest on his legs.

You pulled the used condom off his still-hard cock with a wicked gleam in your eyes. You revelled in the way his breath caught in his throat at your actions, and even more so when his mouth opened in pleasure as you started cleaning him off his cum with your tongue.

His hand went to your hair, holding the side of your face as you looked up at the desperate look for more in his eyes.

“Shit…” he breathed out raggedly. “You’re such a slut…”

You grinned, and started trailing kisses up his stomach and to his neck until you sat on top of him again. You cupped his cheek in your hand and kissed him, aware of how he could taste himself on your tongue.

His arms held you tight against his warm chest, his forehead against yours as you broke the kiss, and you couldn’t help but think about how many months you had thrown at the wind when you could have been in his bed, warm and…

“I love you.”

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cutielando · 18 hours ago

Text

surprise | drew starkey

synopsis: in which Drew surprises you at one of your races

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

"I miss you" you whispered into the phone, your eyes stuck on the hotel room ceiling.

"I miss you too, darling" Drew's voice echoed through the phone, bringing a sad smile to your face.

The room was silent, the buzz of the track long gone as the late hours of the night rolled around.

The city lights of Abu Dhabi illuminated your dark room, casting a cold glow over your body.

The final race of the season was finally there, and you were so excited to finally finish the season on a high.

But still, something wasn't quite right.

Drew wasn't there with you.

He had to do some interviews for his new movie, "Queer", and couldn't attend the race. But even though you understood the demands of his job, you couldn't help the sadness that settled in the pit of your stomach.

"I wish you were here with me" you said, absentmindedly playing with the necklace he had given you for your 2 year anniversary.

Drew sighed, missing you just as much as you were missing him.

But slightly less, because he had booked a flight to come and see you as early as tomorrow, right before the race started.

"I know, I wish I was there with you to watch you be crowned World Champion" he said, teasing you a little with a smile on his face.

You laughed, knowing he was right.

After an amazing season, filled with multiple victories and even more podiums, you would finally be crowned World Champion after tomorrow's race.

Drew knew very well that becoming World Champion had been your dream ever since you were a little girl. It was precisely the reason why he had decided to reschedule his interviews and fly out to be with you during this moment in your career.

He couldn't wait to see the look on your face when you'd see him.

"Isn't it late over there?" Drew asked, after a few seconds in which neither of you said anything.

You looked over at the clock on your bedside table, the numbers illuminating 2:32 am.

"Yeah, it's half past 2 in the morning" you said, the tiredness of the full day slowly starting to catch up to you.

Drew huffed, knowing that you have to get some rest for tomorrow.

"You should get some rest, love. You need to be focused for tomorrow" he said, his voice soft.

You sighed, knowing he was probably right, but at the same time, you didn't want to hang up.

You wanted to keep talking to him, no matter what.

"But we barely had time to talk today" you said, your voice small.

Drew knew how sad you were, but he also knew you needed an incentive to actually start thinking about you and the race ahead.

He sighed, a smile tugging at his lips as he stood in the airport first-class bathroom, hoping you wouldn't pick up on the chatter outside the doors and realize he wasn't home where he was supposed to be.

"I know, and I'm sorry. But you know how it is, we're both busy right now. We'll see each other when you get back, and we'll make up for lost time. But you need to focus on tomorrow so you can show everyone just how amazing you are and win this championship" he said, his heart squeezing at the fact that he's going to see you soon enough.

You groaned, burying your face into your pillow.

Despite not wanting to admit it, you knew he was right. The tiredness from the day was catching up with you, your eyelids now heavy and your limbs sore.

"Okay. You're right. Talk in the morning?" you asked, your voice tired, but hopeful.

Drew chuckled, which warmed your heart and made it long with desire to see him soon.

"Yeah, text me when you wake up. I love you, good luck tomorrow" he said, his voice warm.

"I love you too" you said, your voice drowsy.

Drew smiled as he waited on the phone for a couple more minutes, listening to your breathing get slower and slower until he was sure you had fallen asleep.

He whispered a quiet 'I'll see you tomorrow' and blew you a kiss before he finally hung up, stuffing his phone in his pocket as he went back to the main lounge, counting down the minutes until his flight would take off and he would be a step closer to getting to Abu Dhabi.

A step closer to seeing you.

♡♡♡♡♡

Morning rolled around, your alarm blaring throughout the spacious hotel room.

You groaned as you stretched your arm and blindly tried to find your phone, desperate to get a little more sleep.

“Where the fuck is it” you grumbled under your breath, lifting your head to search for your phone through bleary and sleepy eyes.

Once you finally got a hold of your phone, you immediately disabled your alarm, falling backwards against the pillows once again.

You were tired, your limbs felt heavy, your eyelids were refusing to stay open for more than a couple of seconds at a time.

Maybe staying up late to talk to Drew wasn't your brightest idea, especially before a big race like Abu Dhabi.

After spending a couple of more minutes with your eyes closed, you finally decided to get up and start the day.

Grabbing your phone from the nightstand, you unlocked it and quickly texted Drew a good morning text.

You frowned a little when there was no reply from him, seeing as he usually always responded to you as quickly as he could.

Shrugging it off, you slowly got ready and met up with your personal trainer to make your way to the track.

Still frowning because Drew hasn’t texted you at all.

"Have you heard from Drew today? I texted him this morning but he hasn't replied to any of my texts" you asked Lizzie, your personal assistant.

Lizzie stilled for a moment, but quickly recovered and shook her head, giving you a sympathetic smile.

Unbeknownst to you, she knew about Drew's plans to surprise you, and knew he was currently on a flight to Abu Dhabi.

"No, sorry. I'm sure he's just caught up with interviews and doesn't have his phone on him" she said, at which you nodded.

Maybe she was right.

Or maybe she was downright lying and he was currently minutes away from landing in Dubai.

Only time will tell.

♡♡♡♡♡

"You're due in the car in 15 minutes" Lizzie announced as she stuck her head in your driver's room.

You smiled at her and thanked her, turning your attention back to your phone. You sighed, opening the iMessage app for what felt like the thousandth time in the past hour.

Drew still hadn't texted you, which was really nothing like him to not be in touch for so long.

What if something had happened to him? What if he got into an accident or something? What if he needed your help and you had no idea where he was?

Dozens of dark thoughts were clouding your mind, each more somber and dangerous than the previous one.

Where was he? Why wasn’t he answering you?

Your fingers were hovering over your keyboard once again, thinking about sending Drew just one more text before you really started freaking the fuck out.

But just as you were about to start typing out a message, there was a soft knock on the door.

"Yes?" you called out, your eyes fixated on the door.

There was no answer, but the door slowly started to open.

And then, your whole demeanor perked up instantly. There, standing in the doorway of your driver's room, in Abu Dhabi, was Drew in the flesh.

He sported a wide smile as he stood there, a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers clutched in his arms.

Tears started welling up in your eyes as your eyes found his, looking at you with so much love and longing for all the weeks you had spent apart until now.

"Please tell me I'm not dreaming right now" you said, your bottom lip trembling and your voice croaked with emotion.

Drew smiled and hung his head low, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

"I'm here, baby" his husky voice filled the small room, and that was it for you.

You quickly stood up and practically launched yourself in his arms, your head filled with nothing but love and gratitude for the man standing right in front of you.

Your head was buried in the crook of his neck, and you were inhaling his scent, that scent that could make you weak in the knees in no more than a second.

His arms were holding onto you tightly, the flower bouquet now completely forgotten about laying on the floor next to your little sofa.

"I missed you so much" you whispered, squeezing your eyes and letting the tears fall on his shoulder.

"Shh, I'm here now" he cooed, cradling the back of your head with his big hand.

The feeling couldn't be put into words, no matter how hard you would try. You had missed him so much, missed having him close to you, missed sleeping beside him every single night, missed his kisses and his lingering soft touches.

You had missed everything about him.

"I hope you know you're in trouble for not answering my texts all day and making me worried sick about you" you mumbled, your voice muffled by the collar of his jacket.

Drew laughed, his chest rumbling against yours.

"I know, I'm sorry" he said, kissing a spot beneath your ear, which had his breath tickling the side of your exposed neck.

You didn't even care that you had to be in the car in now probably less than 5 minutes.

The car could wait.

You were too focused on Drew to care about anything else.

But another knock on the door seemed to want to ruin your plans completely.

"Who is it?" you called out, still holding onto Drew tightly, not ever wanting to let him go.

"It's me" Lizzie called out from outside your room. "I'm sorry to break you guys up, but we need you in the car, the race is starting in 10 minutes" she said, which made you internally groan.

For a split second, it had felt like the race could be forgotten. That you could just skip everything you had to do that day now that Drew was with you.

But reality was knocking on your door (in the form of Lizzie) and telling you that it didn't quite work like that.

You still had a championship to win.

"Go, I'll be in the garage cheering you on" Drew said, pecking your cheek before slowly unwrapping his arms from your waist.

"Thank you for coming here. I love you" you said, taking his hand in your hands and pressing your lips against his.

The kiss told him everything that you couldn't put into words. How much you had missed him, how much you loved him and how grateful you were that he was there with you.

"I love you too. Now go, before your engineers have my head for making you late" he said as soon as you pulled away, giving your ass a small pat as he shooed you out of the room.

You smiled cheekily at him and took your helmet, pecking his lips one more time before you followed Lizzie to your car.

Let the show begin, you thought.

♡♡♡♡♡

You didn’t even remember how you had managed to finish the race due to the tears that had been streaming down your face from the final 5 laps of the race.

And then when you finally crossed the finish line in first place, you couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy and emotional because of a race ever before.

Adrenaline was coursing through your veins as the reality of being world champion started to settle in your mind, but your mind was focused on one thing and one thing only.

Seeing Drew.

As soon as you parked the car in front of the “1st place” sign, you jumped up and ran straight to him, waiting for you with your team at the barriers.

You scrambled to get out of the car as soon as you possibly could, desperate to throw yourself in his arms and finally let your emotions run wild.

"Drew!" you yelled out as soon as you got out of the car, abandoning your helmet and balaclava somewhere on the floor.

You broke out into a run, ignoring every single camera or reporter that had been waiting for you.

Drew smiled and jumped over the barriers, outstretching his arms just at the right time as you crashed into him, your hands wrapping tightly around his neck and your head resting on his shoulder.

“I’m so proud of you” he whispered into your ear, kissing your cheek and cradling the back of your head.

You chuckled and closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of being with Drew after you had just achieved the biggest milestone of your career.

“Thank you for being my lucky charm” you said quietly, squeezing him a tad tighter than before.

Drew smiled and pulled away from the hug, cupping your face in his hands and crashing his lips against yours.

It was a messy kiss, very rushed and sweaty, but neither of you really cared at that point. Just being with each other was enough in that moment, nothing else mattered except the two of you in the middle of the busy post-race paddock.

And with flashes going off all around you, you let yourself be carried away by your boyfriend, basking in the glory of having just made history.

And having Drew by your side while doing it.

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leonastarry · 22 hours ago

Text

{ 12 } Written in the stars, erased by duty. ✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭prince/king!jinwoo x fem!commoner!reader! warning: death + remains mention, angst song recommendation: rewrite the stars - the greatest showman.

Golden chandeliers bathed the ballroom in warm light, casting a dreamy glow over the nobles twirling in a carefully choreographed waltz. The air was thick with perfume, silk, and whispered ambitions.

At the center of it all was Prince Sung Jinwoo, heir to the Ahjin Empire.

And across the room, hidden in the crowd, was you—a performer, a commoner, someone who should never have caught his eye.

But when his eyes met yours, the world seemed to shrink.

He moved without thinking, separating himself from the nobles as if they didn’t exist. He held his hand out to you, palm open, inviting.

“Dance with me,” he said.

You held your breath.

You knew better. You knew what this meant. The entire court was watching, their gasps sharp as knives. A prince shouldn’t touch a performer, let alone ask them to dance.

But when Jinwoo asked, who were you to refuse?

Your fingers tentatively brushed against his, and as he pulled you into the light, the music surged, enveloping you both like fate itself.

The dance was slow, deliberate. His hands rested on your waist, his warmth seeping through the layers of fabric between you. Every step was a promise, every turn a secret whispered in the silence between heartbeats.

But in a room full of royalty, love was not just a crime, it was a death sentence.

“This can’t happen any longer,” you whispered, your eyes fixed on his.

“I'll rewrite the stars for you,” he whispered back.

And so, you danced. Not as a prince and a commoner, but as two lost souls in a fleeting dream.

Until the music stopped.

Until reality crashed down.

Until the Grand Duke stepped forward, his face like a storm smoldering with quiet rage.

“This mockery will end now,” he declared.

The soldiers stepped between the two of you. The warmth of Jinwoo’s touch was stripped away as rough hands gripped your arms.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Jinwoo’s voice echoed throughout the ballroom, sharp as a blade.

But his title meant nothing at this moment. He was still a prince bound by duty.

And what about you? You were just a girl who had no right to hold the heart of a king.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

For days, you were locked in the dungeon. No trial, no sentence—just silence.

And then, one night, the door creaked open.

Jinwoo.

He was dressed in black, his royal robes fluttering like shadows behind him. His eyes, once filled with warmth, were now empty with despair.

“I’ll get you out of here,” he said.

He bribed the guards, silenced the nobles, and risked everything to save you.

But you knew better.

If you ran, he would lose everything. His throne. His people. His honor.

You shook your head, a sad smile playing on your lips. “You don’t belong to me, Jinwoo.”

“I don’t care—”

“You should.”

“You were born for a kingdom,” you whispered. “And I was born for darkness.”

Tears streamed down his face, silently, unceasingly.

“Then let me sink into the darkness with you.”

His voice was tight, uncontrolled.

But you couldn’t let him. You wouldn’t be the reason he lost himself.

So you had to lie.

“I don’t love you, Jinwoo. I hate you for putting me through this.”

His breath hitched. He stepped back as if you’d just hit him.

And though your heart broke with every word, you tried to continue.

“This was never real. It was just a game. A dream.”

He stepped back, disbelief and pain clear in his eyes.

“…You’re lying,” he choked out.

And before he could speak, before he could see the tears burning in your eyes—

You turned away.

"Go away, I don't want to see you anymore."

Because it was the only way to save him.

And in the darkness of the cell, as you listened to his fading footsteps—

You whispered the words you couldn't say to him.

I Love You.

But love is never enough.

You can't fight fate.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Jinwoo ascended to the throne.

The people worshiped him. The nobles praised his wisdom and strength. He was all the kingdom needed.

But he was never the same again.

His heart was buried in a prison cell years ago, left to rot with the ghost of a love he could never reclaim.

And you?

You disappeared.

Some say the guards took you away after the prince left, and that was the end of your story.

Some say you escaped, living in the suburbs, watching over him from the shadows like a forgotten ghost.

But what is the truth?

The truth is more brutal than either story.

Because even after all these years, after all the pain, after all the nights he spent looking at the stars, wondering if things could be different—

Sung Jinwoo is still searching for you.

Even knowing that he will never find you again.

Even knowing that fate has made his choice.

But still…

On the loneliest nights, under the weight of his crown, he will look up at the sky and whisper your name.

As if somehow, somewhere—

You are whispering to him too.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The palace was quiet that night.

Too quiet.

Sung Jinwoo sat alone in the garden, his golden crown placed on the table beside him. The weight of the empire weighed on his shoulders, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

Somewhere below this palace, in the dungeon, you were still waiting for him.

He hadn't seen you since the night he was forced to let you go.

He had told himself that staying away was best. That as long as you were alive, there was still a chance—a chance that one day, he could fix what had been broken.

But the silence haunted him.

He needed to see you. Just once.

Even if you hated him. Even if you told him again that you never loved him.

Because he still loved you.

Even now. Even if he had no right to.

Suddenly he heard someone whispering to each other.

He looked towards the source of the sound, why would anyone dare to enter his garden?

Behind a tree, the Grand Duke was talking to someone.

"His Majesty is still searching for that lowly woman."

"Hah, don't worry, no matter how long he searches, he will never find her," the Grand Duke laughed loudly. "Because I killed her and threw her body into the river a long time ago."

Sung Jinwoo's world became quiet.

The quiet murmur of the garden gradually subsided. The wind stopped blowing. The stars above seemed to twinkle, their light struggling against the suffocating weight of his silence.

The Duke's laughter echoed in his ears, each note like a knife cutting into his throat.

'Because I killed her and threw her body into the river a long time ago.'

NO.

His fingers trembled as he reached for the crown beside him.

NO.

His breathing slowed, too slow, his heartbeat heavy, distant.

NO.

The Duke continued speaking, unaware that death was right before his eyes.

And then—

Jinwoo moved.

In the blink of an eye, he was in front of the Grand Duke.

The old man’s laughter faded into silence.

His eyes widened as his body slammed into the tree, held down by an invisible force. His legs kicked, struggling, but Jinwoo held on tight.

The Grand Duke scratched at his throat. “Your Majesty—!”

Jinwoo’s eyes—once warm, once human—had turned pitch black. A darkness so deep, so unfathomable that even the stars above seemed to shrink before his eyes.

“Say it again.”

That voice wasn’t his.

It was something colder. Something cruel.

The Duke gasped, trying to draw air into his lungs. “P-Please—”

Jinwoo’s grip tightened.

“Say it again.”

“Y-Your Majesty—!” The Duke’s face twisted in despair. “I-It was just a joke! A misunderstanding! I would never—”

Jinwoo lifted him higher.

The old man’s feet hovered above the ground, his face flushed.

“A joke?” Jinwoo repeated, his voice strangely calm.

Your body in the dungeon. The iron shackles around your wrists. The blood drying on the cracks in the stone where you lay alone for the last time.

The river.

He threw you into the river.

A grave underwater, beneath the sky that was once yours.

The Duke’s lips turned blue.

Jinwoo stared at him.

A part of him—the king, the man he once was—might have been horrified at that moment.

But there was nothing left of that man.

Not after you.

Not after that.

A gust of wind blew through the garden. The golden crown on the table fell, clattering to the ground.

And then—

Jinwoo crushed the Duke’s throat.

The sound of bones shattering broke the silence of the night.

The Duke’s motionless body collapsed to the ground, his wide, lifeless eyes dull with horror.

Jinwoo didn’t blink.

He couldn’t breathe.

His hands—his hands were shaking.

Not out of anger.

Not out of satisfaction.

But because—

Because it was true.

You were gone.

And there was nothing left for him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The search lasted three days.

Jinwoo himself stood at the riverbank, watching his soldiers wade through the dark waters. The smell of rain, of mud, of something old and lost clung to the air.

But he didn’t move.

No words.

No hope.

And then—

The world ended a second time.

The soldiers found a skeleton in the river, wearing your bracelet and the clothes he had last seen you in.

They gently lifted your remains out of the river, placing them before Jinwoo.

Jinwoo knelt down.

He held out your bracelet, his heart aching painfully.

You were alone.

You died alone.

And it was his fault.

A sound escaped his throat—something rough, something broken.

His shoulders trembled, his fingers clenched.

“Your Majesty…” Igris hesitated. “We should take her back to the palace—”

“Leave us alone.”

His voice was hoarse, unwavering.

Igris opened his mouth, then closed it again. He bowed and signaled the others to retreat.

Jinwoo didn’t raise his head.

As soon as the soldiers left, he reached out to you.

He carefully held you in his arms, as if you would shatter under his touch.

It hurt.

“I was supposed to saved you.” His voice choked.

The stars above him dimmed.

“I was supposed to protected you.”

The river didn’t whisper anything in response.

Jinwoo swallowed, his body trembling.

The hands that had once held hers under the moonlight were now nothing but white bones.

And in that moment—

For the first time in his life—

The great and powerful Monarch Sung Jinwoo broke down.

A tear fell onto your bracelet.

But you could never wipe it away.

Not again.

Never again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The entire palace was in mourning.

Not for the Duke. Not for the sins buried under the royal lies.

They mourned for their king.

For the man who had once been strong, invulnerable.

Now, he had become a ghost.

Jinwoo no longer attended the royal ball. No longer smiled. No longer lived.

He never married.

No noblewoman could take your place. No queen could sit beside him.

Because the only woman he had ever loved was buried beneath the land he ruled.

And so, every night—

When the corridors grew quiet, when the weight of the crown became unbearable—

He would find himself next to what was supposed to be your grave.

He'll sit there, in silence, his hand clutching yours.

And he'll whisper the words he never said.

"I love you."

But you'll never hear them.

Not in this life.

Not next time.

Because fate took you from him.

And he'll never forgive that.

A story that maybe would help you sleep better 🥰

#dream.✧˖*°࿐#leona.star #solo leveling #sung jin woo #sung jinwoo #sungjinwoo #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo x y/n #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x reader #jinwoo sung #jinwoo sung x you #jinwoo sung x y/n #jinwoo x reader

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nanaboo-pumpkaboo · 1 day ago

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//ooc under cut

@completelylusingit - Lus is like probably one of the best examples of someone from Unova like interacting with Silas based on what they know and then growing to like the guy once actually knowing him. I love seeing the evolution of Lus character and am glad to have the guy back. @.nacrenecitygardening Fuck I feel for Cory. for a multitude of reasons. I'm so worried and so interested in these situations.

@thatfailedpokemontrainer - Sprite is such a dude, I described it once upon a time as "A closed box of firecrackers with the fuse lit" and the statement still stands. He's so chaotic and I've been deeply enjoying its and Paris journey through Unova. @.a-nickits-den as well, Beedrills contrast with Sprite is so so interesting and the rivalry with Kura has me fucking gripped I've gushed to my partners about those two. Not to mention how good Beedrill has been for altering Silas' fate, that kid means a lot to the old man.

@battle-subway-ghost - I was first introduced to Paris through the grey walls event but I have deeply enjoyed seeing like, how chill Paris is. I love how much he like stands up for Kura and I still think about the bit where Silas leaked his information even if that ruined any chance for them interacting.

@tinkatinktrain - The goodra post is what introduced me to Mylah and I love how absolutely disgusted it makes Viscous-Protector every single time it pops up on his dash. Silas and Mylah have a really interesting vibe where they both feel like they can be silly to each other but will drop the bit on a dime in order to actually make sure the other is fine. @.subzeroiceshard and fucking, Kura. I gushed with my partners about that fucker just last night, I love how fucked that guy is, I love how GOOD he is about making people hate him to the point where Silas realizes this and is showing him pity out of spite cause he knows Kura wants to be hated and STILL Kura gets Silas to slip. top tier clown.

@shilo-sumac - fuckin god I love seeing Shilo interact with people, I want to have Silas interact with em more. Silas gets like so fuckin concerned and protective like everytime he reads some concerning posts from them but doesn't wanna come off as creepy. Love how she keeps running into terrorists

@team-skull-unova - you my good fella have notifications on. I absolutely love seeing Rais shenanigans every time they log on. I love that Rai is one of the few people who have lost to Silas in a pokemon battle but won in a physical fight. Also I find their thing going on with @cryogonalsmelody so so so fuckin interesting and I am living for it.

@ariadosanon - this is just about the coolest Victoria Silas knows and I am so so sorry for how much he wants to fight her dad. Just about the only team leader Silas follows without intention to clown on.

@team-ex-rocket - you also have notifications on, despite the fact that Silas CAN'T interact with Frosty anymore. I genuinely love how like genuinely dangerous Frosty is but keeps getting clowned on anyways. One of the only characters that has brought out a side of Silas that closely resembles his Boss.

@prof-polaris - sometimes I will just go through and read your blogs. I love how real Polaris feels. I can deeply relate to the melancholy that radiates from subjects having to do with Kittsu and having to like live despite the sadness.

@unovan-businesswoman-angie - I know you've been on hiatus (and I'll delete this part if you'd like to be untagged) but Angie and Tia are so fuckin based. They are so kind and cool and so solid of characters. A lot of the things they both have participated in have been so so well written and entertaining as well, I love the amount of love and care Angie has for her daughters. My recent(ish) arc only increased the amount of love I feel for the character too how like I felt Angie's hesitation when Silas told her the truth. @.rupture-remnant is like, has my braincells fuckin gripped, I think about them constantly, I can't wait until the news reaches them. I don't think Syndicate would exist without them.

@safrina-shards - Another fella on hiatus, she's so interesting. I love reading about her relationship with Angie. When she was active I was constantly hoping "keep her safe keep her safe" hoping nothing bad would happen. Completely activates protective instincts.

@vulgrados-best - I love all of the redux Crewniverse but Miguel is THE most authentic blogger that I have ever fucking seen in pokemon IRL, you've certainly seen in the tags me going "FUCKIN MIGUEL AGAIN" because I just keep reblogging stuff to main from them. Keep it up!

@wishmaker-astra - you made me make a whole new blog just so Silas can interact, 10/10. I love interacting with Astra's polls and how often Silas is able to be silly and also have like adult conversations with Astra. Really gets my senior citizen clown thinking.

@humming-pokemon-helpers - Fuuuuck I feel for Vanilla, the same day Wolfgang died I was actually at my grandma's funeral. Makes every time Silas tries to comfort or help Vanilla 100% hit harder for myself. Love how silly and professional they are.

@guitarandgallade - I wouldn't even be active in pokemonIRL at all without you, Silas wouldn't exist if you hadn't made your original blog all the way back in like 2018.

@goldenrodchef - Gen is so fuckin cool, I love how kindhearted he is and like simultaniously tormented being Eebied. I can see it sometimes getting to him but holy fuck

it took me all fucking day to write these with several distractions but I mean it, thanks for keeping me coming back to this wonderful community

// what if we all tagged our favorite blogs and went to check eachother's favorite blogs out as a result of tagging our favorite blogs. what then

#ooc reblog #//I started writing this TEN HOURS AGO

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anticapitalistclown · 2 days ago

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I need to de-stress so I'll be posting some thoughts (I'll answer all your messages once I finish my uni project and have my head and thoughts clean)

Older!boyfriend Jaegyeon picking you up from uni with a new expensive car expecting that cute surprised expression that he adores from you, only to see you pale and sad, almost about to cry.

Older!boyfriend Jaegyeon who comforts you in a strong hug, patting your head and listening to you ramble about how all the effort you put on that final project was in vain, how you failed and how your professor made you feel like a dumbass.

Older!boyfriend Jaegyeon who was a witness of your effort, who saw with admiration how dedicated you were to do that project, for your future.

Older!boyfriend Jaegyeon who gets mad at your professor, and thinks he is the wrong one, his girlfriend is the smartest! and Jaegyeon never lies, who is he to call Jaegyeon a liar?

Older!boyfriend Jaegyeon who kisses your forehead and tells you that it will be fine, that's just a misunderstanding so you don't need to cry, why don't you better play with the buttons of the new car and giggle for him?

Older!boyfriend Jaegyeon that picks you up the next day, your expression so bubbly and happy, aahh that's the one he loves so much, the reason why he keeps picking you up despite having his own schedule.

Older!boyfriend Jaegyeon that hears you say with relief and happiness about the mail you just got this morning, your professor had a misunderstanding and switched your grade with someone else's! what a relief!

Older!boyfriend Jaegyeon who sees you watching at his scratched up knuckles, hearing you nagging about his safety while you patch him up with some pompompurin band-aids

Older!boyfriend Jaegyeon who says "it was worth it" and then asks you to kiss his booboo's

#na jaegyeon #lookism #lookism x reader #jaegyeon na

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aventurineswife · 2 days ago

Note

So I got myself sucked to lost media rabbit hole, especially lostwave. So imagine, reader once make music but stopped because they either busy or just want to take a break from making music. And one day the character somehow get a clip of their music video but only for 20 second of it, but that 20 second definitely hit the spot. And so the hunt of lost media begun. It would be even more perfect when reader make these music at 2010-2014, the song is pretty old but that doesn't mean they would give in like that.

Sorry for yapping, just had this idea crossed my mind out of the blue. Lost media fascinate me since there's soo many good content but it lost :(

HELP?! WHY DO PEOPLE LOVE THIS AU SO MUCH?! 😭🙏 LIKE IK ITS GOOD AND ALL BUT OMG-

It begins as a whisper.

The first time one of the characters hears the faintest trace of your music—an old track they never knew existed—something unsettles them.

March 7th finds an ancient clip while casually browsing through some files she stumbled upon. It's barely 20 seconds long, fuzzy and grainy, almost like it's been hidden away on the internet for years, untouched by time. The footage is barely enough to recognize, but the music? The song? It hits different.

The sound is distinctly your style, laced with melancholy and nostalgia, but it’s from a different time, a time they didn't know you existed in.

Welt is intrigued by the song’s complexity. He immediately starts analyzing the structure, the style, the instruments. “This feels like something from the early 2010s, but with such… an unusual vibe.”

Himeko is more emotional. “There’s something haunting about this. Like it’s pulling at a part of us that we didn’t even know was there.”

They both agree: the song has to be part of your lost history. You, their mysterious Creator, must have made it before becoming so busy or stepping back from the world.

Blade is silent for an uncomfortably long time after hearing the song. It seems to evoke something deep within him—something personal.

Dan Heng watches him, sensing Blade’s sudden vulnerability. He, too, finds himself drawn into the music. The melancholy and rawness of the sound tug at something deep inside him, though he can’t place it.

They decide that the 20 seconds of your music isn’t enough. They want more. They need more.

Aventurine immediately gets obsessed. “Do you hear that? That’s the sound of our Creator’s soul, calling out from the past. We must find it!”

Sunday takes a different approach. He starts delving into ancient records, combing through anything he can find about you, trying to understand what this music means. To him, this is no longer a song—it’s a divine relic. "This is a sign! We must reclaim our Creator’s lost art!"

Both of them begin searching everywhere for any trace of the missing music, becoming obsessed with the idea of uncovering your lost creations.

Kafka smirks at the sound, recognizing the haunting undertones. "This is definitely a piece of your past, isn’t it?"

Black Swan agrees. “There’s an unmistakable sadness to it. They’ve hidden it for a reason. But why? What made them stop?”

They both turn inward, wondering what you went through to stop creating, to step back from making music. But they can’t ignore that the music is still a part of you—they want to find the rest of it, to reconnect with the “artist” behind the music.

Luocha listens quietly, feeling the melancholy in every note. "It’s almost like a dream, fading away with time."

Jing Yuan, always curious, notes, “This song… it’s old. But the way it feels—almost as if it were made just for us.”

The two of them decide that the song might hold clues about your past, and with that, they set off on a personal quest to recover the lost music. They search for anything that might lead them to more pieces.

Characters begin digging deep into old files, secret music vaults, archives, and obscure corners of the universe. The hunt for the lost music intensifies.

Every lead seems to go nowhere, but every time they find something—whether it’s an old video link or a half-deleted file—it’s like a spark of hope ignites. They keep digging, convinced that you—the enigmatic Creator—are still out there, waiting for them to rediscover your music.

And then it happens. They find a full video, a full song. Or maybe just another short clip. It’s old, but it’s yours.

The world falls silent. The moment they hear it, they know. This is you. This is the music you created.

But now the real question emerges: Why did you stop? Why did you hide it?

They now obsess over every note in the song, the subtle melodies, the emotions that drip from each lyric.

Blade & Dan Heng? They are absolutely smitten with this lost piece of your soul, so much so that they start debating what it means to your identity.

Aventurine & Sunday? They go as far as to frame the clip, treating it like a sacred relic, while constantly talking about how “they knew you had this hidden talent.”

Kafka & Black Swan? They can’t stop wondering if this song holds more than just music. Could this be a message? Something you wanted to share with them, even though you never fully revealed yourself?

Eventually, the search for the rest of your lostwave music becomes a personal journey for each character.

Some believe the rest is out there, waiting to be found. Others begin to accept the mystery, considering that the music might remain lost forever. But deep down, they know that one day—if you ever decide to return to the world of music—you'll reveal yourself again. And they'll be ready.

Sigh, 😞 how tf...

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slimybeth69 · 17 hours ago

Text

Part 3- Your People

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: After the civilized world you once knew came to an end-- the men that survived... well they just take, take, take. Growing tired of having things taken from you-- you have a hankerin' to take somethin' for yourself... and make him perfect.

w/c~ 8k

content warnings: Reader (no descriptions besides having hair that can be pulled) is in a weird mindset; hears voices, talks to herself. non-con/dub-con (if you're looking for enthusiastic consent, ya wont find it here) smut, cock-warming, unprotected P in V, creampies, oral (m&f receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, pussy and peen pronouns, alcohol consumption (altered mental state). Joel wears a shock collar and other various horrible things that would keep him in check-- and he doesn't fucking like it.

Reader warning- While it looks real pretty, this is a Dead Dove, Do Not Eat. If ya do and then come complaining to me that you ate a dead dove-- I'm gonna fight you. I warned you. I'm coming from a place of love and respect for my readers who have ever gone through anything traumatic and maybe don't want to relive that, it's in here. I try and do it tastefully and respectfully in the best way, i'll mark it with a lil divider where you can skip the part I'm worried about. it's smut but it's sad. There is your warning. I love you.

You gotta sleep, kid. You need it.

Mister-J looks so warm and comfortable… go on and crawl in beside him.

He does look so comfortable and inviting, especially from your spot just out of his reach if you were to fall asleep. His chest rises and falls slowly as he breathes in his sleep. It’s memorizing, and almost hypnotic enough to make you forget all of your fears— forget all of the things that made laying next to him with his arms around you physically excruciating.

S’okay, Baby. You’ll get there, it’ll get easier ‘n he won’t seem so big ‘n scary anymore.

There is a reason he seems big and scary, kid. Your gut is telling you not to trust him, so don’t.

Oh, stop it. If he wanted to kill her, he would have— he would have done it by now. He’s big ‘n strong— he could, and he hasn’t.

That sweet, soft voice does have a good point…

Doesn’t mean he isn’t waiting for a better opportunity.

The dark, serious voice has a point too…

This always happens, the voices say things that conflict one another, but they both have a point. They both make sense but never about the same thing. And they argue. And they’re loud. It’s only when you need them, that you really, really want them to say something that they are quiet.

The little flashlight that had been attached to the backpack Mister-man—

Joel… he has a name. He’s a real person, kid.

You flick the flashlight off quickly so it’s dark again.

Mister-mans, Mister-J… Joel… it don’t matter none, Sugar. He’s yours, and you can call him whatever you want.

You flick the light back on so you can watch him sleep. It’s incredible how calm he is, and how he fell asleep as soon as you laid down next to him after saying he couldn’t sleep.

Sometimes that happens to you though, sometimes you need to touch yourself, and make yourself squirm and moan and come, and then sleep finds you. Sometimes the whiskey puts you to sleep before you even have the desire to do that to yourself.

Whatever Mister-J did with his tongue was so much better than your fingers, wasn’t it?

It most definitely was. It was probably the most incredible feeling you’ve ever experienced. Not that you hadn’t ever experienced it before, but this time…it was soft, gentle— and you wanted it more than anything. That made it feel even fucking better, how badly you wanted to sit down on Mister-mans face and grind down onto his mouth.

He was making out with your cunt. Deep, long, tongue swirling kisses. He would open and close his mouth, and suck. He would lick and lap at all spots you didn’t even know could make you feel good.

When you would take his cock deep in your throat and gag on it, he would moan- loudly-and the vibrations from that were like earthquakes, they touched parts inside of you that were left unexplored by anyone before Mister.

He was perfect.

The idea of laying your head down on his big, muscular bicep was nice until you were actually doing it, and then everything about it felt foreign. It was like sleeping too close to the fire, surrounded by too many blankets.

You had gotten so used to sleeping alone, that the feeling of someone next to you didn’t feel right anymore. It made you sad and you’re not entirely sure why.

So that’s why you’re here on the floor and not snuggled up against Mister-man. It’s like the universe played some cruel joke on you- and you got your favorite food but when you bite into it, it’s rancid.

But your fingers twitch toward him anyway—like roots in dirt searching for water. His arm is right there. His breath is slow and steady.

Go on. He’s warm as fresh bread.

You shift an inch closer.

Dangerous as a snake in the grass.

But his skin smells like leather and sweat and you want to taste him again. Want to run your tongue from the tip of his cock, to the spot just in front of his ear that makes him sigh when you kiss him there.

Crawling—quiet like scared prey— you move until your face hovers over his chest. His shirt rides up just enough to show a scar on his perfectly doughy stomach. And another on his rib cage. It looks newer, still old enough to be a scar, but pink instead of white.

You wonder if it aches when he breathes. If that’s the reason his voice sounds like gravel sometimes.

He’ll crush you.

He’ll hold you.

It sounds like a song the way the sweet voice says it.

You touch the scar with your pinky finger, feather-light—and he doesn’t stir. But then he sighs—a rumble deeper than thunder—and your guts twist.

You scramble back, heart slamming against the back of your throat.

The sweet voice clucks at you.

You’re spooking yourself.

You’re alive because you spook.

The flashlight rolls under your knee when you shift—plastic clattering loud enough to wake dead things—and Mister’s brow tightens. For one gut-drop second, his eyes flicker open, staring up at you, before he grunts and turns onto his side, back to you now.

He’s mad again? How, and why? What did you do wrong? You had done everything right.

You keep poking that bear and you’re going to get mauled, kid.

He ain’t mad…look’it his hands, Sugar.

They’re not balled up into fists, they’re relaxed. His whole body is. Everything about him seems so at peace.

Your stomach growls loud enough to wake the dead. It’s been a while since you’ve eaten— and then you only had half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and some whiskey.

Joel’s boot shifts with a dry scrape of leather—and your lungs forget how air works. But he just mumbles something that sounds like “goddamn horse” with his face smushed against the pillow.

Mister-J talks in his sleep? He’s precious.

He is. It’s hard to contain the feeling in your chest when he sighs loudly, rolling onto his stomach, curling his arms under the pillow.

Instead of trying to face your fears of crawling into bed with him and falling asleep next to someone else, you crawl on your hands and knees back to the chair across the room. The whiskey bottle is still tucked between the cushion where you left it.

Even with almost half of a bottle of whiskey in you, your eyes won’t close. You only know what time it is because the soft whir of the solar powered generator kicks on, and the singular lamp in the corner flicks to life. It’s dark outside now.

The electric hum from the bulb makes your skin crawl, and your head buzz.

Part of you feels bad for keeping Mister down here like this. He doesn’t even know what time it is, he’ll probably wake up soon, getting ready to start the day. You wonder if he misses the sun, if he ever walked barefoot in the grass and if he misses that feeling too.

When you weren’t allowed outside, you missed the sun. You missed the grass between your toes. You missed being able to jump into the river and swim around with your brother whenever you wanted. There were a lot of things you missed when you weren’t allowed to go outside.

Unscrewing the whiskey cap, you take a swig and relish in the way it burns. It drowns out the voices, but it doesn’t dull the ache between your legs— the memory of his mouth makes you shift in the soft recliner.

In the soft, pale light spilling into the room from behind the aged, yellow lampshade, you can see Mister-J… and how excited he is. He’s on his back, shirt riding up over his stomach again, the bulge in his sweatpants clear as day now.

There is a new voice you’ve never heard before, and it’s not saying anything— only screaming. Loud, and high pitched. It’s excruciating. It’s the only thing you hear now, not even the sound of your own voice telling you what to do, or what to think or say.

When you stand, the whiskey sloshes between your temples. It makes you sway and almost lose your balance, but you press your hand to a support beam that juts out of the floor and into the ceiling.

Heavy, clumsy, limping feet and a swollen ankle carry you to Mister-J.

His cock is hard and heavy in your hand and he tastes just like he did last night. He stirs under your touch—a low groan vibrating through clenched teeth—and your pussy tightens around nothing. Mister arches his hips up against your slow moving fist, trying to fuck your hand momentarily before stilling and settling back down into the mattress. His eyes are still shut tight beneath furrowed eyebrows.

It’s pathetically cute how bad he wants this. How badly he needs it.

The screaming inside your head morphs into static.

Your fingers rub slow circles over damp fabric between your legs while your rib cage starts to feel like a hive of wasps. Everything inside of you is buzzing as you lean over and swirl your tongue around the ridge of his cock.

Wrong.

That dark voice sounds like it’s coming through the static like old radio stations.

You pull your hand away from Mister-J's cock and cover your face with it, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill. This is all wrong, all of it.

S’right. It’s all right.

The static transmutes into tornado sirens.

Your hand finds his cock again and it throbs in your grasp. There is no hesitation when you take him into your mouth with a gentleness you didn’t know you possessed when you’re this intoxicated. Delicate movements and laps of your tongue along his shaft make him moan softly, still slumbering.

Salt and musk take over your senses as he pulses against your tongue—wanting even in his unconsciousness. Your throat spasms around him as you gag, tears hot on your lashes. One hand brushes against his thigh as you move to steady yourself on the mattress while the other slips into your own waistband. Two fingers slide into you with no resistance. You’re so wet that you almost feel embarrassed.

Inside.

The sweet voice sings to you over the cacophony going on inside your head.

Mister’s hips jerk again, involuntary, desperate. A string of saliva connects your lip to his cock when you pull back to breathe. The room tilts—whiskey and shame on your tongue—but you don’t stop. Can’t stop. Not when his thighs were trembling just a moment ago.

After kicking your shorts off, you climb on top. Mister feels so hot pressed up against your cunt. Yours and his breath catch in your throats when you sink down into his lap. Your eyes close to hide from the stretch that burns in a slippery, and shameful way.

The wasps behind your ribs sharpen their stingers as you slowly start to rock your hips against his. Mister’s eyelids flutter but he doesn’t wake-up, not fully. He just hovers in that feverish space between dreaming and drowning. A place you’re familiar with.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Good. Good. Good.

You want to carve yourself into his bones before the tornado sirens rip your skull apart.

The oven mitts make useless fists at his sides as he arches beneath you, tendons in his neck pulled wire-tight. His hips stutter upward instinctively, chasing more friction, seeking the deepest, warmest parts of you.

His eyes snap open, “The fuck are you—” Mister-man’s voice is rough like sandpaper but you don’t let him finish before you slap your hand over his mouth.

“Shhhh, makin’ you feel good,” you moan quietly, your hips never faltering. His cock slides across a spot inside of you that whites the edges of your vision.

He mumbles something, his teeth scraping along your palm as he does so. It vaguely sounds like, ‘Get off’a me’ or ‘get off on me,’.

“M’tryin’,” you groan, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. Your cheeks are wet, but from tears or sweat, you don’t know.

How can everything make sense up here on top of Mister-J, and still feel so incredibly… wrong?

The oven mitts start to drum against your thighs as he squirms underneath you.

It…hurts? Mister is hitting you?

Hurting you.

You like it.

“Knock it off!” You press harder against this mouth with your hand, your fingers digging into his cheeks. It’s impossible to stop riding him, to stop yourself from needing this brutal closeness with Mister.

You’re being bad.

You like it.

His muffled growls vibrate against your palm—angry or pleading or both—but your cunt clenches harder around him anyway. Release is so close, you can feel yourself teeter on the precipice, but you can’t seem to push yourself over.

“Please, please, p-please— jus’ wanna, I just wanna— please, please, Mister-J,” you whine, face wet with perspiration and tears now, they’re flowing freely from your eyes. “I want it, need it—”

“Stop, goddammit—” he shouts at you from behind your fingers.

It makes you flinch but you don’t stop, and your pussy pulses around him. Your hand presses harder, fingernails leaving moon crescents in his flesh mingled with his stubble.

You just want to feel good, to be able to fall asleep once this is all over.

Oven mitts thump and scrabble at your hip, and that only makes your thighs clamp tighter around his waist. You want to swallow every twitch of his cock, everything he can give you– you want it.

He bucks his hips up into you and touches a place inside you that leaves you gasping for air. “Yes, yes, yes—” you groan breathlessly, leaning forward to lay your body on top of his, resting your forehead against his collarbone.

Mister bucks his hips up into yours again— once, twice, three times and suddenly you’re being shoved off of him, pushed to the side like you’re weightless.

Before you can really even know what hit you, Mister-man has his entire body weight pinning you down underneath him. He has his forearm forced against your neck.

Your thumb instinctively presses against down, searching for the shock collar button but you just end up pressing against your own palm.

The static, and the sirens and the screaming— the voices. It all goes completely silent and the only thing you can hear is the blood roaring in your ears.

Mistake?

Mistake.

“Got’chya,” He growls down at you, his eyes dark and blown wide.

“Get off me! Get off me! Get off of me!” You scream at him as loudly as you can, “Get off of me! Get off! Off, off, offoffoffoff! I’ll fucking kill you, you stupid fucking sonofabitch- get the fuck off me!”

“Awhh, lil crazy puppy don’t like it?” He murmurs, pressing his lips to your tear stained cheekbone.

Your legs begin to flail wildly in an attempt to dislodge him, push him, get him off. Your hands flying to his face, scratching and clawing at the soft skin, and his vulnerable, delicate eyes. You can’t find the words for how much you don’t like it, so you scream— it’s loud and rattles in the back of your throat as Mister-man clamps his hand over your mouth to silence you.

His breath is hot and ragged against your ear, the oven mitts clumsily grappling at your wrists as you thrash. "Stop—fuckin'—fightin’—," he grits out, but his voice cracks on the last word.

You taste copper—your teeth sink into his palm at some point, his blood smearing your chin. He pulls his hand back back to look at the broken skin, and you clench your eyes shut, flinching away from the incoming blows.

The room tilts and suddenly Joel’s weight isn’t just on your body; it’s inside your head, like pressure forcing memories that had buried deep to the surface like lava from a volcano.

Different hands holding you down. A different room. Different voices in your ear.

“Nononononono,” you whimper in a shriveled voice you don’t recognize.

“Hey!” Joel’s voice is sharp and grounding.

His arm lets up just enough for you to suck in a shattered breath. You’re both trembling now, your chests heaving against one anothers. His beard scratches your temple as he turns his face away from your clawing hands, but you don’t miss it—there is a flicker in his eyes when your choked sob hits the air between you.

Something wet smears your cheek. His blood? Your tears? It’s hard to tell.

“M’gonna make you feel real good, crazy girl.” His lips brush your earlobe as his hips grind down into yours, the length of him sliding between your folds, the tip notched at your entrance.

“Stop,” you whine, but the force has left your voice. Something about him breathing in your ear, something about the sound he makes as he shifts his hips and slips himself inside of you. The tears continue to fall, even as you gasp and clench around him.

“She’s suckin’ me right in baby,” Joel purrs in your ear while his hips start to move.

You can feel every fucking inch of him, every vein, and every single beat of his heart through the slick walls of your cunt. “Oh god,” you groan, your stiff, frightened hands curling in the hair on the back of his head, the other gripping one of his strong, strained biceps.

You're terrified, but Joel's words and touch are overwhelming you, making your body respond in ways you didn’t know could in a position like this.

He thrusts slowly at first as he sinks deeper inside you. But soon his pace quickens and the slapping, wet sounds coming from between your legs fill the small basement room. "Yeah just like that," Mister groans, his lips ghosting over your cheek. "Take it all, baby girl.”

Your walls clench around him, pulling him in as if eager for more. You feel delirious with fear and an unbidden arousal. Tears stream down your face, but soft moans spill from your lips.

Joel licks at your tears and leaves gentle kisses in their place, his beard scraping against your sensitive skin. "Shhhh, I got you," he murmurs between thrusts.

The room spins and blurs as the pleasure builds. Nothing exists and nothing is real anymore; Mister-man’s weight pinning you down, his cock splitting you open, the sour, sweaty, musky scent of him.

He’s real. He’s real. He’s real. He’s real. He’s real and he’s good. He’s good, he’s good, he’s good. He’s not killing you, not hurting you.

So good. It’s so good.

You turn your head to capture his salty, tear stained lips with yours, opening your mouth to let him in. His lips press against yours desperately, tongue licking at your teeth as he slips inside.

Your body arches up to meet him, craving more of his touch even as fear still coils in your gut. It’s like you’re two separate people wrapped up into a whole. One part of you wants him with everything that you are, and the other is ready to hide, ready to slip into the cracks into the wall and never come out.

His oven mitts move to your waist and fumble with the threadbare shirt you have on, trying to push it up over the swell of your breasts.

“Fuck,” he grunts, nipping at your bottom lip as he pulls away from the kiss. He sits back on his knees, cock still throbbing inside of you while your walls flutter around him.

“Don’t, oh god, no. Please don’t go-” you sob, hands and fingers clawing at his forearms, desperate for him to come back. “P-Please don’t leave me,” you whine sadly,

Mister says nothing as he places both mitt covered hands inside your shirt where it’s fastened with buttons. He pulls the two pieces of fabric apart like paper. The buttons fly in every direction, scattering across the floor and some landing in bed with you. Joel stares down at your naked body and you feel more exposed than you ever have in your entire life.

“Jesus christ,” he murmurs, eyes tracing every single one of your curves. His mittened hands cups the swell of your tits, thumb swiping over the stiff buds

It’s like you’ve been zapped by the shock collar. Your back arches into his hand, your eyes clamp shut.

“Nuh-uh, watch me,” he growls. He waits until your eyes are on him before he leans over and takes one of your nipples into his mouth. His tongue swirls and teeth graze and bite down.

“Oh my god,” you groan, your fingers gripping his hair tighter, your nails dragging red, almost bloody marks down his arm.

Mister releases your nipple with a wet pop, blowing cool air across it almost like he’s teasing you. Goosebumps erupt across your skin as he takes the other into his mouth, alternating between harsh sucking and tender kisses.

You mewl softly as he begins to thrust again, each movement slow and deliberate. He drives deep inside of you and hits that spot that blurs the edges of your vision again, and again, and again.

You stare up at him in awe- his beard is longer, thicker than it was when he first came here, his hair disheveled and damp with sweat hangs in his forehead. He leans back and pushes the loose strands away from his face with an oven mitt.

Handsome.

He is.

Strong.

Being so gentle.

With you, Sugar. So gentle—

With you.

"Please," you whimper, spine bowing as pleasure coils tight in your belly as his hips snap against yours loudly. “More. Need more…”

He grins down at you, eyes crinkled at the corners, “I’ll give ya’ more, sweetheart.” If you thought Mister was handsome before, when he smiles your heart swells. and the pressure and tightness inside of you feels like it’s about to burst.

He wraps one hand underneath your knee and brings it up, resting your ankle on his shoulder by his ear, repeating the process with the other leg. He grips your thighs, the scratchy fabric of the oven mitts drags across your skin. Joel never lets up, never slows down the brutal, bruising pace he sets.

A string of expletives and maybe his name more than once spill out of your mouth quickly, stumbling over the words as your body trembles underneath him.

All of the air is pushed out of you as he leans over, pushing your knees up to your chest and starts fucking into you with deep, long strokes. His pelvis grinds against your swollen clit with each powerful snap forward, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"I can feel her squeezin’ me," he rasps hotly in your ear, licking the shell before biting down on your earlobe. “Come on my cock, crazy girl.”

That does it. It’s more than enough to push you over the edge. “Oh—” Your head tips back with a silent scream as your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave, making your entire body shudder and convulse beneath him. “Fuck… Joel!” Sparks burst behind your eyelids as pure rapture consumes you.

Mister sucks your earlobe as you come, his sweaty temple pressed against yours as the waves wash over you. He’s kissing and licking down to your neck, and bites down hard right over your pulse point, sucking hard enough to hurt. "That's it baby girl," he grunts against the spot he just bit.

It’s like your whole body is on fire, everything is too much, it’s all too good.

You feel a new pressure, a new sensation and it’s familiar, but foreign all at the same time. A new release, it’s different and it’s happening so fast.

“Stop! Oh my— Mist- Joel, p-please,” you plead for some sort of relief. “I’m gunna—”

Joel presses his lips to yours again, silencing you. You twist your head to the side, pulling away from his mouth as he kisses down your cheek to your jaw. “S’okay— let go...”

"I...I don't...can't..." You gasp out between ragged breaths. Hot, wet tears still leak from the corners of your eyes as the intense pleasure builds to an unbearable peak.

“Ya’ can,” he pants, resting his forehead on the side of your head. “Cryin’ only makes it feel better, baby girl.” He shifts his hips, angles them differently and fucks you harder- faster.

“P-Please,” you whimper, unsure if you’re begging him to stop, or to keep going. “S’too much!”

“Shut up,” he growls, nipping at your cheek gently, teeth scraping skin as he pistons into you relentlessly. “Let it happen, crazy girl.”

So you do- body obeying his command even as your mind reels with what’s about to happen. A second climax crashes over you, more intense than the first. It erupts from you in a wet splash against Mister’s lower stomach and pelvis, it drips down the curve of your ass and you feel it seeping into the mattress underneath you.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praises breathlessly. “Such a good fuckin’ girl cummin’ on Mister’s cock again.”

You sob in pleasure and embarrassment simultaneously as he fucks you through it, his deep voice rasping in your ear.

“Crazy,” He murmurs. His thrusts grow clumsy, and he’s panting in your ear, kissing the side of your face. His tongue captures the tears on your cheeks again like they’re his favorite drink as your fingers dig into the soft flesh on his shoulder. “Makin’ me fuckin’ crazy,” he snaps suddenly, pulling back and out of you completely.

You whimper at the loss but he presses your thighs together tightly with his hands and forearms, and slips his cock between them, the length siding through your wet folds.

Mister-J kisses your ankle, his teeth biting down on the skin as he groans loudly, warmth spreads and seeps between your thighs, and slick lower lips, the crease where your legs meet your pelvis.

You stare up at him, watching as his eyes close, his brow furrows, his hips jerking back and forth clumsily as he empties himself onto your lower half.

Your legs tremble as he slides his softening cock out from between your thighs.

That was the most incredible, and intense feeling you’ve ever experienced and you’re not sure if you should love him, or hate him for what he just did to you. The wet spot on the mattress is an embarrassing reminder of what happened seconds ago.

“S’good for ya’?” Mister asks, running one of his oven mitts over his forehead, wiping the sweat away. His eyes move from your face, down your still naked body, his cum smeared across your mound and lower stomach.

You pull your shirt closed around your bare torso, holding it closed with one hand. You use your good foot and the other hand to push yourself onto the cold concrete floor— skin scraping roughly as you shove yourself away from him.

His brows pinch together tightly, and he narrows his eyes on you. “Where’re ya’ goin’?” He sounds… concerned? Angry? Disappointed?

The words don’t find you, thoughts don’t come to you anymore as you hold the shirt over your chest and glare at him. All you can do is scream at him. It comes from somewhere deep and your lungs hurt, your throat feels like it could bleed from how raw it is after.

“Where’re ya’ goin’?”

He watches as tears continue to pour down your cheeks, your face twisting up tightly. You inhale deeply, and it looks like you’re trying to regain your composure.

Then you scream at him. It’s long and loud and hurts his ears, but he stares at you until you’re done. He continues to watch as you scurry away from him in a clumsy, stumbling crab-crawl until your back bumps into the leg of the table.

You flinch and stifle a sob, and finally take a deep, shaky breath. You use the table to push yourself to your feet, turning away from him finally. You shove the table in his direction, grabbing the shock collar remote before you turn, and limp into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

The dull roar of the infected grows louder from upstairs. They’re still there, and that means the two of you are stuck together for at least another day or two, maybe longer.

The door opens again, and a metal bucket comes hurdling out of the bathroom and through the air. It hits the wall, and drops to the floor noisily with chaotic, metal clangs until it comes to settle in the corner by the mattress.

The door slams shut again.

You’re broken, he can see it in your eyes almost all the time, but there was a moment when he was on top of you where he thought you might have completely checked out– gone somewhere else, somewhere he didn’t mean to take you.

Traumatized the poor puppy. Pro’lly in there cryin’.

He’s not worried that you’re crying. Nope. Not even a little.

Alright- that’s what you wanna keep tellin’ yourself, go right ahead.

He’s worried he just signed his death certificate.

Joel wasn’t trying to take anything from you— not like that. You were already on top of him, riding him, but you just looked like you needed some help, like you needed him to take control. Like you didn’t know what you were doing up there, rolling and swirling your hips in any direction. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t ever going to get you there- where you wanted to be so badly.

Joel took you there, made you fucking squirt all over him and he took some sense of pride in that.

Joel helps himself to jerky and bread, he drinks as much water as his body will comfortably allow. For the first time in weeks, he’s actually full. His stomach feels like it’s stretched like he might actually burst.

–-

At first Joel thought you just needed a couple minutes. Maybe you wanted to clean up in the privacy of the bathroom without his eyes on you. But hours go by and he hears nothing coming from the separate room. Nothing.

It’s silent. Completely. No shrieking or clicking of the infected from upstairs either.

It’s the lack of control that’s pissing him off more than he would care to admit. Being captive was of course at the top of his ‘things to be pissed off about’ list, but if he was going to be stuck here with you, he wishes he could at least have a say in what goes on.

Hasn’t seen the sun, hasn’t had a proper shower in god knows when, hasn’t had a real meal in just as long. If you would give him just a little more freedom, things wouldn’t be too fucking bad here.

Now you’re gettin’ it.

You’re making Joel crazy, now he’s thinking about complying?

Y’been complyin’, Mister. Complied real damn good in that bed just then.

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit.

Has Joel been complying? What the fuck is going on? Why didn’t he kill you in bed? Why didn’t he strangle you, bite your jugular out of your throat. He could have, he felt your heartbeat on his tongue. He could have ended all of this right then.

But ya’ didn’t!

He sure fucking didn’t. He was so unworried about killing, that he made sure you came– twice – before he finished.

Looked so sweet comin’ on your cock, perfect tits bouncin’, fuckin’ pussy was immaculate.

Joel presses the oven mitts into the sockets of his eyes and groans loudly.

Joel’s eyes snap open at the rattling coming from inside the room. He shoots up, looking around with crusty eyes and blurry vision. He expects to see you but is met with the sight of that fucking opposum sitting on the table with a piece of Joel’s jerky in his clawed little fingers, munching happily on the dried meat.

“Git!” Joel shouts. The small animal doesn’t even flinch at Joel’s outburst, just continues to eat that precious protein. “Y’little fuckin’--” Joel grumbles, pushing himself to his feet. He stands in front of the table, looking down at it- the opposum- Puddin’.

He just stares right back up at Joel, chewing quickly and swallowing.

Kinda cute.

“S’fuckin’ gross,” Joel grumbles. He doesn’t really want to touch that thing, he doesn’t want to get whatever diseases that thing could be carrying.

He’s got a collar on.

Puddin’ does have a collar on. Joel imagines you taking your time picking it out for him, going through all the colors and designs. He can see you finding the teal and pink collar, holding it up against his fur and saying it’s perfect. That Puddin’ would be the most handsome opossum this mall has ever seen.

It makes him smile.

It feels like two fucking days--two goddamn days since Joel saw you walk into that bathroom and slam the door shut practically in his face.

You’re either dead in there or plotting the most painful ways to kill him. Both choices make Joel sick to his stomach.

–--

Joel watches you behind the metal grate that keeps the mattress store all locked up nice and tight. He’s on the wrong fucking side! He’s on the mall side and you’re tucked under the covers of your comfortable looking bed. Seven mattresses stacked on top of each other like you’re in some fucking story he’d read to Sarah when she was really little.

Joel almost wishes he could go back to the basement because this is more dehumanizing than being tied up by the elbows or roped up to a chair.

The metal chain around his neck is tight, and it digs into his skin. It’s thick, heavy and has prongs on it– like he’s a fucking dog. A violent dog that lunges, and bites and attacks.

You opened the door to the bathroom an hour ago with the choke chain in your hand, the shock collar remote taped to the other, and the most exhausted look Joel’s ever seen on anyone's face. Big dark circles under your eyes, disassociated stare like you weren’t even really looking at Joel when you spoke to him in almost indecipherable mumbling.

Joel fought you a little when you padlocked the choke chain to his neck, and added a smaller lock to the shock collar. But he stopped when you said you were gonna take his oven mitts off his hands.

Where are all the infected? It sounded like there had been a horde of them up here two days ago and now there is not a single sign that they had even been here.

When Joel had questioned you about what he would do if more infected came, you very confidently said that no one could get in or out that easily anymore; that you had made this place nice and safe for your ‘mister-man’.

Ain’t ever had no one like that before, have ya’?

No.

That had always been Joel’s job; to keep everyone else safe.

Who made sure that he was safe?

There had always been give and take with everyone else, even Tommy and Tess. There was love there, sure– but never just someone absolutely and completely tearing themselves open to make sure that Joel was taken care of.

The only thing you wanted in return was his company.

Might’a never touched ya’ if you hadn’t asked for it.

He wonders what your name is. How old you are, where you came from. How long have you been out here…

Joel grabs the metal cord wrapped in some sort of plastic or vinyl material that goes all the way up to the ceiling and gives it a shake as he looks up. You’ve attached it to some other sort of rope or cable that’s been tied from one end of the mall to the other.

The other end is connected to Joel’s choke chain.

As soon as your eyes closed he attempted to unclip himself from it but it wouldn’t budge. He tried everything but it was like you welded the clasp closed.

Joel wanders. That’s all he can do. He’s got more than enough slack to go into whatever store he wants and walk around, inspect.

As he does this his mind doesn’t stop thinking about you. Why didn’t you sleep with him? What did you do while he slept on the bed? Did you sleep? Have you eaten? What the fuck did you do in the bathroom for two whole days?

Joel finds a place where the sun is shining through a hole in the ceiling and faces it with his eyes closed. He could fucking cry. He didn’t realize how much he missed this, how important it was for a person to come in contact with the sunlight. He chokes down the lump in his throat and stands there, following the sun as it moves in the sky, the light coming in at shifting angles and directions. He follows it, stays in the warmth- basking in it for as long as possible until dusk settles and the sky slowly starts to turn pink.

Joel has his backpack with him. You packed him some food and water, his flashlight. A clean long sleeve shirt in case it got cold. You even threw in some whiskey for him, which he was enjoying sip by sip.

He pulls his flashlight out and uses it when he goes into an old bookstore. Some shelves are empty; nature guides, atlases, hunting and fishing- basically the entire outdoors section is gone.

The romance novels are almost bare.

Who needs those when lil puppy’s got you, right?

There are still self-help books on the shelves, almost untouched and whatever is left looks like it would fall apart in his hands if he tried to touch it.

Why’s you even in this section?

Joel wanders to the comics and takes a look at whatever is left. Some are in alright condition, wrapped in plastic away from the elements. Some do disintegrate before he can even get them out of their place on the shelf.

He grabs a Batman comic still in a vinyl sleeve and tosses it in his pack for later. There are tons more strewn all across the floor, some he remembers reading with Tommy as kids. He picks through them, looking for any worth saving and finds two more still in decent condition.

There are several department and clothing stores that look bare from the outside, but he wanders into one anyway just to see what might have been missed.

There’s an exit to the outside that's been all boarded up, with what looks like every empty clothing rack pushed in front of it. He thinks about moving all those things, breaking through the boards… but where the fuck would he go? Ten feet outside of the mall where the infected were apparently moving through?

No.

He’ll stay inside.

He paruses the homegoods section all the way in the back of the second floor and finds a wall of empty shelves except for one.

It’s filled with books- he reads through the titles: The Beginners Guide to Foraging, An Introduction to Wildlife Rehabilitation, LIVING WITH WILDLIFE- How to Enjoy, Cope with, and Protect North America’s Wild Creatures Around Your Home and Theirs, The Big Book of Skill Makers, The Complete Beginners Guide to Greenhouse Gardening- A Month by Month Planting Book to Grow 365 Days a Year, You Will Find Your People- How To Make Meaningful Friendships as an Adult. There are several Batman comics featuring Harley Quinn and The Joker.

They all look like they’ve been read thoroughly and many times.

On the same shelf there is a pink balloon animal made of glass, it has fresh flowers in it, with clean water. It takes him several seconds to realize that it’s supposed to be a bong. For smoking weed. And you’re using it as a vase.

Joel chuckles to himself and continues to look at the shelf of your important belongings. A couple rocks of different colors, an old makeup compact that has a broken mirror in it. And a small glass picture frame of a family– a mother and a father, a little girl, and a young man but his face has been scratched out beyond recognition.

On the wall behind the shelf Joel notices lines carved into the wall.

| | | | | | | | | | |

Twelve. Is that how old you were when this all happened? Is that the number of men you did this to before Joel came along? Are you going to add him to this fucking list?

Is that how many months you've been out here?

All of this suddenly feels like someone he can’t see punched Joel directly in the stomach.

Sad.

Joel makes his way to a different part of the mall, checking every entrance that he finds along the way and they’re all boarded up better than they were when he used to walk around here before you captured him. He does appreciate the effort you went through to make sure nothing could get in if you weren’t going to give him a weapon, and he couldn’t escape.

There is an old music and entertainment store where you must get your princess movies and cartoons to watch. He picks through a couple, finding a couple classics that he watched before the outbreak Office Space, Dirty Harry, The Thing, Top Gun.

He grabs a couple more that he watched as a kid with his dad and grandpa; The Magnificent 7, The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. He grabs the three original Star Wars movies as well– the best ones, the only ones worth watching. The ones that started to come out right before the outbreak– Joel can’t even talk about it.

He’s done his exploring and now he sits outside of the mattress store waiting for you to wake up and let him back in. As soon as Joel unwraps the sandwich and jerky you made him, that stupid fucking oppossum comes scampering along like this is it’s dinner too.

“Get the hell outta here,” Joel grumbles, waving his hand in its direction, trying to scare it off– but it persists.

Inching closer and closer until Joel could kick it if he wanted to.

Kinda cute in the little collar.

Joel tosses a piece of his sandwich a good distance away and Puddin’ chases after it while Joel digs into his own portion.

Hours and hours go by, you sleep for so fucking long. He reads all of the comic books that he grabbed and even goes back to the bookstore to look for more. He finds nothing else that interests him so he goes to your bookshelf in the department store and grabs a couple from there to look at.

He’s flipping through the skill maker book when you finally wake up and open the grate.

Joel scrambles to his feet, watching as you rub your eyes with your one free hand, the other still has the remote tapped to your palm.

The two of you stare at each other for several silent moments before you notice the book in his hand.

“Just put it back where ya’ found it when you’re done with it, ‘kay?” Your voice is deep and filled with sleep.

Joel nods his head, and puts the book in his backpack. “Yeah, sure– hey where did all the infected go?” He questions as you toss your own pack over your shoulder and head in the direction of the food court.

“Cleared ‘em out the other day.”

“How the hell did you do that? When? After we–”

“Yup.” You cut him off with a sharp, short response. “Wasn’t that many. Kinda easy when you get high ground on ‘em.”

Joel eyes dart up to the rafters and wonders how good you are with a bow and arrow. He knows Ellie is a great shot, loves her bow and arrow. “And you moved ‘em all out on your own?”

“Yup.”

“How did you even get out of the bathroom?” Joel’s been wondering that this whole time.

You walked into the bathroom, slammed the door and the next time he saw you was coming down the stairs to the basement.

He wonders if you’re even real.

Ohh our lil puppy is real alright.

If you knew that Mister-J was going to ask all of these questions you might not have ever taken the duct tape off.

Where did the infected go? What if more get in? How did you get out of the bathroom? Where are you going now? When will you be back? Are you okay? Are you mad? What’s wrong? Why aren’t you answering me?

He’s so nosy! Asking more questions than any of the other guys combined.

Why does he even care?

Shhhhh, this is what makin’ friends is, Sweetheart.

“Used the vents to get out of the bathroom,” you sigh, not stopping or slowing down but Joel keeps up anyway, his arm brushing yours as he walks alongside you.

“What about the infected– you know the spores–”

“I burn ‘em outside at night when it’s real dark–” you explain to him quickly. “I ain’t stupid. I know ‘bout the spores. I know how the fungus works. I paid attention,” you huff softly as you reach the ladder that takes you up into the rafters and eventually out onto the roof.

Mister is too big, and probably too clumsy to follow you up here.

“M’just goin’ to get some more food… I’ll be right back– couple of minutes, okay?”

Mister looks relieved when you say this, his face relaxes and he sighs softly. “Okay, just be careful.”

— -- --- ---

“Is that my shirt?” He asks about the green and red flannel you have on when you come out of the women’s restroom in the food court. Your hair is clean, your body feels refreshed after taking a shower.

Mister looks good too with his hair slicked back, and his beard trimmed neatly.

You nod, not taking your eyes off of him. It’s almost impossible when he looks like a brand new man- handsome. He looks like he’s lost weight since he’s been here with you.

You’ll fix that. He needs to eat more than you, and he wants meat so… you’ll go get it for him. Real meat this time, even if it makes you sad how you have to get it.

“Yeah, I took it ‘cause it smelled like you.” You admit with no shame. That’s exactly why you took it. So you could sleep with it so he could warm up to his new house, with his new friend.

Mister-J chuckles, and shakes his head at you with a smirk plastered across his face. “Someone told me I stink once,” he says through his laughter.

This makes you smile because he’s happy. He looks happy, like he doesn’t mind talking to you, he’s not saying mean things. He’s sharing.

Told ya’ he’d get comfortable. Just had to be patient. We figured it all out eventually.

“You do stink sometimes, but you smell real, so I don’t mind.” You share with him as you lead him back to the mattress store. He carried the TV up earlier and said he found a couple movies he wanted to watch. They don’t really look like movies you want to watch, but you’ll give them a shot.

Anything for Mister-Joel, perfect, sweet man.

It doesn’t make this easier. Mister wants to sleep in the bed next to you, said he wanted to warm you up, but now you’re next to him again and it feels like you could burst into flames and tears all at the same time.

“What’s your name?” He whispers into your ear, his arms wrapped around your waist, holding onto you tightly from behind.

“Why?” The sirens go off inside your head. No one’s asked you that in so long, it makes your stomach flip and you feel like you could be sick.

“Told’ya mine,” He murmurs into your hair.

Joel.

When you go to answer, the words don’t come because the memories are gone. You can see your mom and dad talking to you inside your head but their voices are on mute. The name never leaves their mouth. “I don’t remember…”

OFC thank you @pedrospookie for making this cutie banner and letting me scream at about all of this!!

I need to give an extra special shout-out to the couple of other people I screamed at about this. @almostempty @gothcsz( your music recs inspired me) and thanks to @probablyreadinsmut and my unnamed friend who helped me with the TW of the chapter.

I was especially nervous to post this because I didn't want to ruin anyone's day or send anyone into their own spiral. I hope you all are OK!

thank you to everyone who has been reading!! I've never gotten such incredible feedback on a fic before and you are all so nice and make writing this story that much more fun. I LOVE YOU

TAG LIST: @pedrospookie @gothcsz @joelmillerisapunk @sp00kymulderr @paleidiot @goodvampykitten @rosebuds-and-moonlight @diabaroxa @zhazy-blog2 @almostempty @xdaddysprincessxx @tobethlehem @lilac-boo @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu @rav3n-pascal22 @baronessvonglitter @joelmillerisapunk @syd-djarin @probablyreadinsmut @itwasntimethatdidit40 @letsgobarbs @lovehappyloki @joelalorian @pedrostories @evolnoomym @valkyreally @youdontknowe @corazondebeskar-reads @pastelpinkflowerlife @tobethlehem

please don't hate me if I forgot you, I have a hamster brain, ok?

#pedro pascal characters #fic: girl dinner #kidnapped!joel miller x unhinged!reader #kidnapped!joel miller #crazy!reader #unhinged!reader #strong as hell bad ass bitch!reader #dddne #dead dove do not eat #smut #joel miller smut #dark!Joel #dark!reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel the last of us

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spideyanakin · 2 days ago

Note

Reader being a cat to reveal who the traitor is genius. And I think peter noticed the symbolism behind it.

The part with the widow pearls was sad, rip regulus 😔

I cant wait to read more on reader being Madam Black 🤭

THANK YOU HIHIHIHIHI

I'm so glad you noticed <3 I was so happy when I came up with the idea of the cat hihi. Also reg will always be in our hearts ♥️

here is mr black and mrs black reuniting to heal our hearts

all I think about now - masterlist

summary - sirius black x malfoy + slytherin! reader, the order takes a break after peter has been caught, sirius joins you outside for some fresh air (and some revelations)

warnings - revelations and reunions <3, yearning, longing, and everything in between. mentions of minor character death (r's mom who was sick), smoking (s bad for u), james being a menace, spot the Metallica reference lmao

read the part before

The soft autumn air suddenly felt heavy.

You kept facing the sea, watching as the waves grazed the sand below the cliff. You could feel Sirius shifting beside you, the sound of his leather jacket, the zipper of a pocket, and the crisp sound of a cigarette box with the wrapper still half on.

The spark of his lighter caught the corner of your eye, and soon after followed a cloud of smoke gently blown your way by the wind.

With your gaze still fixed on the waves, you saw his hand move towards you, offering you his cigarette. You took it without a second thought. You hadn't smoked since the last time you had seen him.

You took two long drags before you handed it back to him, your gazes still refusing to meet.

A sense of deja vue filled you. Suddenly you were back atop the astronomy tower at the start of your seventh year. Tension slithering between you before it would hopefully crack.

You knew how it had gone the last time. You could never stay apart from him for long. You had always felt close, no matter how far. No matter how many times life has pulled you away from one another, you still felt that tug, that string pull you towards him.

But no matter how hard it was, there was a reason the two of you had called it off the last time. There was a reason you had tried to break that unbreakable string.

You were to be married to his brother, which you now were.

You had pledged your allegiance to the dark lord.

There wasn’t a world anymore where the two of you could have attempted keeping this up.

In 7th year, you were already risking your life sneaking around. You had both risked your lives trying to see each other after graduation, and then he had risked his life coming to see you, for one the last time, the night before your wedding.

The grey area you had been dancing around had been reduced to ashes by the exceedingly fast brewing war.

And now, as you smoked together watching the waves dance upon the sand, it seemed that maybe, just maybe there was a flicker of hope for a happy ending.

But how could he forgive you for never choosing him?

After an unknown number of smoke clouds, he sighed. It wasn't out of annoyance. It was soft, as if he was finally getting rid of an unknown tension that prevented him from voicing anything.

"How have you been?" You could tell he had a hard time asking. Voice laced with rugged emotions as he kept his gaze toward the waves.

You finally dared to look at him.

"Frankly, I do not really know. You?"

He laughed the tension out his shoulders, "frankly? I don't know either."

"Well, that makes two of us."

It took him another minute before he looked at you after he discarded his cigarette.

You stayed without a word spoken as he scanned your face. Your tired eyes peering back at him.

His hair was longer than when you last saw him, and a huddle of tattoos peeked out of his clothes anywhere skin would dare show. You could tell he was probably just as tired as you, but his eyes still held that fire you loved so much about him.

Salazar you had missed him.

But emotions didn't have time to surface because soon enough his gaze tore away from you, and you found yourself looking down to your shoes.

"How long have you been on our side?" He asked, and you heard him huff as he tried fishing for a second cigarette.

"Since we left Hogwarts."

You watched as Sirius dropped his lighter, a surprised groan leaving his lips.

You both bent down to pick it up, fingers brushing as you reached for the lighter first. You handed it to him.

It felt like sparks flew from the mere brush of your hands, and you knew Sirius had felt it too by the surprise in his eyes. With a second too long of your hands lingering, you finally spoke through the ice.

"I missed you."

"Why didn't you tell me you were working for the order?" His voice was soft, and you carefully scanned his traits as he placed his new cigarette to his lips and lit it.

"To keep you safe."

"I could have handled it."

"Sirius..."

"I can't believe it."

"Is it so hard to believe?"

"If I’m being honest, yeah!" His voice rose from an octave or two until he got quieter again. "After you refused to come with me, twice. Yeah. Especially since, apparently, the second time I asked, you were already allied with Albus."

"Sirius..." you trailed as you watched him advert your gaze as he burned away his cigarette, sighing half of the smoke through his nose.

"You couldn't leave. I know." He looked down.

"I wanted to," you stepped closer to face him, trying to gain his eyes. "You out of anyone should know how desperately I wanted to be like you, be with you," your voice quivered. "But I had strings attaching me there, I had my mother to take care of, and then- then when she passed and I finally thought I could leave, that nothing kept me back anymore I-" You stopped in your rambles, too afraid of voicing the rest of your thoughts.

Sirius was staring back at you with glassy eyes, mouth slightly agape at your sudden confession. You were about to leave. You were actually going to, but then his face hardened again, the sudden reminder of reality hitting him.

He didn't need to be a genius to figure out what had kept you there. If his information was correct your son was born around nine months after your wedding. Your mother died barely two months after the ceremony.

"Another string kept you attached."

"Yes," your voice was hoarse over the suppression of your tears, and it took you another minute before you managed to use your voice again. "I didn't mean it to."

That seemed to get his attention, and you watched as confusion riddled his eyes.

You took in a sharp breath. You weren't even close to ready to have this conversation, but here you were, plotting against the dark lord, not even being sure of making it past these next few weeks.

It was now or never.

"Breaks over!" James's voice rang from the opened window, causing your shoulders to jump at the interruption.

Sirius dropped his dying cigarette before pressing it with his foot and giving you the best sad and tired smile he could muster as he headed back to the door.

"Wait, Sirius," you caught his arm before he could grab the handle. "If anything were to happen... to me or r-" you caught yourself. "If anything were to happen, promise me you will take care of Perseus."

You could feel him tense under your touch at the mention. His expression almost stoic as his movements fully stopped.

He caught your gaze and suddenly something seemed to shift in him, he almost smiled.

"So that's the little rascal's name."

The lightness in his voice took you aback, and you almost smiled too.

"Yes. Perseus Sirius Black," you sheepishly mumbled and watched his eyes widen.

"Is that why Walburga and Orion finally kicked the bucket? Must of given them both of heart attack," he mumbled and this time you couldn't help but smile.

"No," you bit your lip. "Your mother insisted he wore Reg’s name. We told her he did but we wrote Sirius on the official papers."

"First borns usually take their middle names after their fathers."

“They do…"

Sirius couldn’t decipher your expression but took it as a sheepish ‘we broke the rules, so what’ because he couldn’t even dare to even think of looking into the fact that you could mean anything else by it.

"Didn't take my brother for a sentimental," he muttered before fixing his hair in attempt to distract himself. "I'll do what I can, but I promise you, it won't come to that. You'll come home to him."

He reached for the door again, and the burning feeling that after tonight, you weren’t sure when you would see him again came nagging at your gut.

The same voice rang through your mind again.

It was now, and If not, the possibility of never.

"Regulus never laid a finger on me," you blurted out.

Sirius turned back to you with a confused expression, one hand already on the door handle.

"We, um-" You were blinking extremely fast now, heart fluttering uncontrollably as he awaited for you to elaborate. "Weneverconsummatedthemarriage."

"Sorry?" Sirius tried to comprehend the string of blabber. He had heard it. But it just didn't make sense in is mind.

Nope. Absolutely zero sense.

But then by the look of absolute terror and pain in your eyes, he seemed to connect two and two together.

His jaw opened by itself, literally like one of those muggle cartoons Lily made Harry watch on Friday nights using what she called a TV.

He wanted to speak. Say something, anything. But all words died down in the back of his throat.

Suddenly Sirius fell. One second he was leaning against the door and the next he was being swished backwards and harshly onto the wooden floor of location twelve, which didn't make any sense because there was supposed to be a door behind him.

He blinked to realize that his hand was indeed still securely on the handle of said door, with James sheepishly on the other side of it.

"Prongs!"

"Sorry mate didn't know you were behind it." He looked at you and then back at Sirius, "we're waiting for you."

#captain black 🫧#yazzmints crew member 🫧#marauders 🫧#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black imagine #sirius black fan fiction #marauders fan fiction #marauders #harry potter imagine

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maddieshifts · 2 days ago

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Maddie's Version (New Gen HOTD) <3

My S/O's name: Aemond Targaryen

My S/O's face claim:

Our relationship dynamic: We grew up as best friends at King's Landing, we spent all our time together. I was the only one he would be vulnerable with. When I was 15, Rhaenyra moved to Dragonstone and as her servant, I had to go with her. When we all returned six years later, I was given to Aemond in an arranged marriage. Our reunion is very tense, as his brother unjustly claims the throne the day after our betrothal, but over the first several months of our marriage, we slipped back into our easy friendship. This turned into us spying for Rhaenyra and falling in love at the same time.

My favorite thing about him: HE'S SO THOUGHTFUL OML Most people don't get to see it because he has this mask of "cold, brooding youngest brother" to protect himself. But my wedding ring is studded with rubies because he remembered that they were my favorite stone as a child. He has our chambers redecorated with reds and pinks and soft fabrics because he knows that's what I prefer. He never suggests going anywhere by dragon unless absolutely necessary because he knows I hate dragons. He's just so SWEET and he thinks of everything <3

A funny fact about our relationship: Aemond and I were nearly caught in a very compromising position in the gardens and the only reason we weren't is because he picked up his shoe and CHUCKED IT across the gardens so the servants moved to a different area.

A song that reminds me of him: Play with Fire by Sam Tinnesz ft. Yacht Money

A scenario I scripted with him: This one's kinda sad LOL but in my defense it's a DR memory, not necessarily something I scripted. The day after Aemond and I were betrothed, Alicent plans Aegon's ascension to the throne. So I was woken up by Alicent and servants and told what to wear and forced to attend the coronation. She put me on the stage by Aemond to show a "united front" between her family and Rhaenyra's (even though I'm a servant and not technically family but whatever). Aemond refused to look at me through the whole thing, but when Rhaenys and her dragon break through the walls, his hand immediately found mine and he pushed me behind him. That was the first moment I realized that my childhood friend was still somewhere behind the cold mask of the prince.

Challenge for Shifters: Your DR s/o

(You don't have to do all of them, just pick the ones you want)

Your S/O's name

Your S/O's face claim

Your relationship dynamic with them (rivals to lovers, childhood friends, etc)

Your favorite thing about them

A funny fact about your relationship

A song that reminds you of them

A scenario you scripted with them

Doing it myself

My S/O's name: Ana Takahashi

My S/O's face claim:

Our relationship dynamic: We start off as friends, and then we fall in love

My favorite thing about her: She's a lot taller and stronger than me, so she can hold me and carry me and stuff like that

A funny fact about our relationship: Before we start dating, she'll be really competitive with me (because she's trying to impress me) and I scripted a scenario where we have a race and I trip, and after she wins, she comes back to check on me

A song that reminds me of her:

youtube

A scenario I scripted with her: A boy starts messing with me (if yk what I mean), and me and her aren't dating yet, but she gets really protective and hugs me and flips the guy off as I'm facing the other way, and afterwards she pins me against a wall and tells me if anyone touches me, she'll kill them (she has yandere-ish tendencies, don't judge me).

Feel free to do this challenge! :D

#maddieshifts #reality shifting #shifting #adultshifters #house of the dragon

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veryextraincorrectfegbaquotes · 1 day ago

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Sad Shanna Lore won the poll so now I present to you the text that explains that one thing age said while beating Ain with a chair!

To say it all changed when he died would be inaccurate. Him dying had just further entrenched things. Shanna had already been feeling minimised, underestimated and babied. She was naturally meek, shy and soft-spoken, and on top of all that she was the youngest of four sisters. The only way to avoid being babied would be to run away, and Shanna would never have the guts to do that. Well, she'd have the guts, but not the lack of sense to try to strike out on her own in a small town. Could she get set up? Sure, there'd be folk nice enough to give her a place. Could she avoid her family? No way in hell.

What sealed her away as shouting on the inside only was when her father died. He'd been a poor father, to say the least, but being handed a divorce made him realise what he'd been taking for granted, and made him desperate to reconnect with his family. But Fiora, Farina and Tate had all chosen their stance, and it was that they wanted nothing more to do with him. But Shanna was too young and too kind to a fault to genuinely hate him. So he brought everything he had to reconnecting with her. Days out, short trips, everything he could manage. It was the happiest she'd been in ages, since he kept bringing her to new places where she could try her hand at things. Winning at carnival games, going on the biggest roller-coasters, sitting in the splash zone. They were her efforts, her choices, hers.

Then he died. It was a mundane thing, slipped at home, hit his head on the edge of a counter, nobody there to call for help, closed his eyes and never opened them again. For everyone in Shanna's family except her, it was a morbid convenience. A drawn out divorce involving a man they wanted nothing to do with was suddenly tidied up. They could wash his hands of him, and so they did. They assumed Shanna felt the same. Assumed she'd just been humouring him, meek little Shanna too shy to tell him no. They didn't go to his funeral. So no-one could take Shanna. They never even imagined she might want to go. Too sad an affair for someone as emotional as her, they reasoned.

Who could she talk to about this? Tell her family that the man they could never love again she'd learned to love? Not forgive, but still see value in? Someone to cry over in private? Someone all the photos of had been thrown out, except the few she had snagged and hidden? They hated him. She couldn't say they were wrong to hate him, he'd earned it. But she didn't hate him. She didn't hate anyone. She hated conflict. So she withdrew yet further, spending her time alone. Her dear sisters would only see her as their baby sister. Her mother would only see her as her baby girl. Did anybody see Her? Was it only when she looked in the mirror? Was it ever?

With no-one to talk to, nobody she felt she could be genuine with, and no desire to cause trouble, Shanna could do nothing. She could sit in her room, look at secret photos and write in secret diaries, while away hours reading scary stories and watching scary videos to remind her she was alive. Was she depressed? How could she tell? If she was, what would it matter? Who would she tell, what would she do. Stay quiet, stay out of the way, say Hi with a smile, do your chores and a bit extra to show you care, stay in your room so you don't spend more time than you have to feeling like your family is condescending you. One day into the next into the next, look out the window at night and wonder if anyone else feels like this, put your hand against the glass, hoping a bit of your warmth can reach them if they're out there, get a bit scared from staring out into the darkness. Night into day, day into night, what day is it? Doesn't matter. Nothing can keep earnest little Shanna down, she's anxious and scared but does her best! It's not wrong, but it's not everything.

Go on forums and never say anything. Go in chatrooms and don't type. It doesn't feel real, but what does? Day in, day out. Have I seen this video before? Are they all blending together? No matter, watch it again, it's not real anyway. Say Hi with a smile, do your chores and a bit extra to show you care, go to the town wall just to look out at the forest, imagine going there at night, it'd be so scary but so alive. Does the tree falling alone in the forest at least own the thud it makes? Ride your pegasus, imagine just flying in a direction and not stopping until you hit the ground. Where would you end up? Would the sky look different, there? Is emptiness less lonely than feeling like nobody sees you? Does any of it matter out there, with nobody else in sight or sound? Day in, day out.

Get dragged out of your room, told to make a friend. Push back, you're tired of always acquiescing, emptiness is comfortable now. Meet someone, she's different from you, but also seem to want to get away from everyone in the world for a while. You feel like there would be comfortable, but still not yours. She feels like she'd belong there, like a proud stone pillar, like Stonehenge. Maybe you could learn from her? Is this being friends? Being with her makes you happier, it'd been a while. She's protective, but not to a degree that makes you want to go somewhere else. She doesn't bar you from things, if you say you want to try she hangs back as you try. She's harsh, not as harsh as she is to others but still enough to make it feel like she knows you can handle it. Her name is Clarine. She's your best friend.

Day in, day out. Go spend the day with her, both of you want nothing else. Go out walking, go have picnics, go to her place that's small but being so close to her makes your heart flutter. Smile brightly, hurry through your chores but still doing a bit extra to show you care, almost skip out the door to see your friend, tell her stories about the things you do without her, she listens and questions, doesn't just pat your head and call you cute. Day in, day out, always something to look forward to. Look at the photos, wonder what it would've been like if they'd met. Only look at them though, not staring. Don't stay up late, lots to do tomorrow. Go on an adventure, do things that matter that only you are trusted to do. Everything has changed and it's all getting better. Still not time to tell her about the past, but it's not as important anymore.

#written stuff #Shanna

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gears-twisting-and-turning · 1 day ago

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Stex x reader request if you don’t mind! How would greaseball react if you were “his” coach and after a fight you were instead racing with Electra, and vice versa (Electra’s component racing with GB after you argue?) thank you I love your imagines!! 🚂 🩷

I may or may not have gone a bit to far with this request- It was so juicy I just had to kind of go wild. I really hope you like it :]

She/they/him pronouns for Electra by the way

Also assumed it was like old GB + Electra :]

Cw - yelling, cursing, people not communicating omg just say something, but also don't it makes it juicier <3

---

Greaseball would be pissed to say the least. Yes he knows he kind of messed up, but you fucking went with the walking talking Dutch?… American?…. French??? Whatever walking talking flag he is!

Finding out later that it was technically his own fault, since you were trying to get back at him for the argument that had happened earlier would kind of send his entire world spirling.

Hey hasn’t he seen this song and dance before? That’s crazy-

Voices were getting louder and louder by the second. You have had enough of Greaseball’s constant cheating and you didn’t want to race with him anymore if he continued to do so. Don’t get it twisted, you were fine on the race track, you even could throw in a punch yourself, you loved doing it.

It was the fact it was getting tiring, you loved the thrill of racing, but you wished it would for once come out without dents in your body because he had uncoupled you too hard while standing off with someone in the middle of the track. Or have the other engines pull on you to make the champion slower.

When you had told Greaseball this, things didn’t go that well. It turned into a screaming match between the two, currently you had tuned him out, used to his loud yelling. That was until certain words hit your ear.

“Well if it’s such a problem, then why don’t you find a ‘better engine’ to race with?!” He didn’t give you a moment to process as he turned around and skated away. You knew you had been uncoupled, yet instead of sadness and regret that he expected you to feel, you only felt your blood boil hotter.

You weren’t going to stand for this, this loud, abrasive asshole wasn’t going to treat you like a child and put you in the corner for a time out unless you knew how to behave. You skated up to the electric’s dock building, marching right in without a second thought.

Soon enough Krupp had rolled up to you, making you stop right in your tracks as the stocky armaments truck stood in your path. “Halt!” He said in a firm tone, making you realize just how crazy you probably looked. With a sigh you held up your hands. “Sorry if I came off as aggressive, I just need to talk to Electra.” “Electra isn’t taking any visitors currently.” Krupp answered, not asking why you were here as it wasn’t his business and he didn’t seem particularly interested in your reason. You felt your anger return for a moment, but you held back. You took a deep breath. “It’s important, I promise you that he’ll want to know.”

Krupp raised an eyebrow, no doubt confused under those sunglasses of his, before looking back. He opened his mouth to respond, until you quickly added. “It’s about the race and Greaseball.” The truck looked at you for a moment, before looking over at Purse who happened to be lingering near.

“Purse, get Electra. Tell them Greaseball’s coach has something to talk to her about.”

Soon enough the red, white and blue electric engine stood in front of you. “You better have a good reason why I have been called.” They started, looking down at you from their freakishly tall height with a glare.

You just wanted this over with, but you had to persist. There was only one thing that Greaseball couldn’t stand, something that was easy to get underneath his skin. “I want to race with you.”

Electra faltered only for a moment, you didn’t know if it was because of your surprising authoritative tone, or if it was because of the contents of the sentence you just spoke to him. You could physically see the several questions that bounced in her head, before she shook her head. “Why?”

“Because after I brought up a valid concern he uncoupled me and left me in the dust ‘to think about what I’ve done’. I’m not letting him walk over me…” You trailed off, if this was going to work you’d have to put in a bit of… persuasion to get Electra to agree. “And what would piss him off more, than me going for the handsome, speedy electric that would leave him in the dust?” You said skating around her, softly touching their arm back and other arm as you circled her.

For a moment Electra glared down at you, yet it was clear he was thinking about it. “Deal.” He said after a bit and you knew it was going to be perfect.

It was time, you stood ready for control to announce your new race partner with you behind him. You couldn’t wait to see Greaseball’s face when he realized he had messed up and you weren’t going to take this back unless he started growling on his knees for you.

You heard control call out Electra’s name and soon you felt yourself being pulled forwards by the electric engine, the crowd cheering as you two came out of the docks and underneath the beautiful light that illuminated the both of you perfectly.

After taking in the beautiful scenery with the crowd’s excited cheering in for a bit, you turned your head towards Greaseball who seemed to shake off the look of surprise on his face and then gave you a look that was perfectly between the emotions of anger and hurt.

You could only give him a mean smirk, before letting your face fall and let him see how pissed you were at him. Further than that the race was a blur, all you knew is that you won with Electra in front of you.

After the race was over the consequences came in full force. Although you had tuned out the way, Greaseball came up to Electra and the both of them got into a verbal fighting match, until Electra decided to stomp away in a childish fit of rage. Luckily you were already uncoupled, but that left you and Greaseball alone.

“You dared to go to that damn electric just to humiliate me?!” He roared in anger, turning towards you. You gave him a harsh glare and held up your hand. “I will not be yelled at Greaseball. If you have a problem, talk like a fucking adult.”

Greaseball faltered, almost as if he forgot you wouldn’t let yourself get walked all over. He stepped back, anger still visible in his eyes, but clearly didn’t have a proper way to express that other than yelling.

You took a deep breath. “Okay I’ll admit that was petty of me, but can you really blame me after you left me in the dust like that? One argument was all it took for you to leave me.” You said, the hurt finally seeping into your tone as all of your own anger finally disappeared and made way for the sadness you felt.

“I-... Fuck, I'm sorry.” Greaseball said, practically forcing the words out of his throat as if they were foreign to him. “I’m too.” You simply responded, it was exhausting enough to keep all that anger up. You kind of wished to already be back in his arms and forget about the stupid race.

Luckily you got your wish as the diesel engine skated closer towards you and put his strong arms around you. For a moment you let your guard down, leaning into the embrace of him as the two of you stood there in silence.

“Was he better than me?”

“I never want to be behind an electric again.” You responded matter of factly. “I like the purr your engine gives.”

---

Electra would not be off any better than Greaseball. Although their anger is a lot more stomping their feet with a chance of getting a zap sent towards you. You’re just lucky he would never hurt you like that.

Not only did you not race with them, but it’s with that loud, toxic masculine, diesel??? She cannot even fathom why the hell in your right mind you would race with a filthy, greasy engine like Greaseball.

They wouldn’t even know what to do with herself. You might just send him absolutely spirling or fainting in his compartment’s arms like when Pearl decided to go with Greaseball…. hey are you getting deja vu or is that just me?

That’s it, you were done being side lined. You understood Electra racing with Volta, she was by far the best choice out of all of you as she was composed, knew how to handle herself and was positively elegant on the racing track.

Not to mention she was part of your group and yet there you were, standing and staring at this new observation car that suddenly showed up. Apparently Volta had a headache (What an amazing lie, Purse) and couldn’t race with Electra anymore, so apparently she was the next best option and was chosen to race with them.

You knew that it wasn’t Purse’s fault as he was just following orders, but you couldn’t help but feel a little salty here. Not only were you the next best person to race with them, he was your fucking partner. So now you were cast aside like some toy just because Electra found this newer, prettier thing to race with.

You had tried to bring it up to Electa, but you only got met with. “Do not question me, baby.” With a sharp tone that made you almost want to cry. Being so harshly rejected by your own partner and you were supposed to just… take it lying down?! You didn’t think so.

With newfound determination you managed to sneak away from the electric engines and the rest of the components to find the diesel you were looking for. It wasn’t hard as he was loud and currently was with his rolling stock and the rest of the international trains, doing their usual engine thing.

“Greaseball.” You called out, causing the world champion to whirl around to face you. He looked you up and down with a cautious look, before raising his chin to try and seem bigger. “What do you want, electric?” He asked, slightly puffing up his chest.

“Calm down, I don’t want trouble. I have… I guess a favor to ask.” You said while skating a bit closer to him. Two of his rolling stock buddies seemed to want to lunge out, but he stopped them by holding his arms out to the side. “I’m listening.” Greaseball said as he skated closer to you in turn.

“I want to race with you.” You swear you could see his eyes bugging out of his eye sockets as he fully straightened himself out. “I’m sorry I don’t think I heard you.” He said putting his finger towards your face.

You simply slapped his hand away. “I want to race with you. I’ve been side lined one too many times. I don’t mind if it’s by my fellow compartments, but some random new girl isn’t going to cut it. I’m going to show him what I’m made of on the racing track and I need your help to do that.”

A wicked smile suddenly crossed Greaseball’s face. “Sounds good, I’m in.” He said as he looked back at the rolling stock. “I’ll be back, I think me and this one have some training to do.” He said, putting a hand around your waist as he led you over to the training tracks.

With the blink of an eye it was racing day and you knew exactly what to do. You had shined your outfit and you looked your absolute best. You were gunning for surprise, a jaw drop and a childish stomp on the floor like a bunny that was mad.

Control suddenly said Greaseball’s name and you were pulled forwards into the wonderful sound of a cheering crowd, big bright lights and the wind in your hair as he put on a show of how he was going to win.

Your eyes immediately found Electra who’s neck snapped towards you and Greaseball the moment she heard your name called out by control after Greaseball’s. For a moment you thought they pulled some wires with how their eyes twitched, but it was exactly the reaction you were looking for.

They didn’t seem to realize the race was about to start, until Pearl had touched their shoulder and looked at him in concern. You just looked forward with a smirk as you made sure you were ready for the race yourself.

The race was like a whirlwind, but it was far from done even though it was over now. You had won with Greaseball and you knew Electra wasn’t going to be happy. You stood alone having already said your goodbyes to Greaseball after the race, waiting for Electra.

Soon enough you hear him stomping up from behind you. “What was that about?” They demanded in an eerily cold and sharp tone which made you flinch and almost prepare for a zap. “That was me wanting to race, Electra.” You responded as you turned around to face her with a frown.

“With that diesel? How could you betray me like that?!” He raised their voice as they towered over you with their blue eyes staring holes inside of you. “Oh so I have to just be okay with you getting a new play toy?!” You asked, tears in your eyes as you got choked up on your own emotions.

“Fuck! I didn’t want to cry!” You yelled out in frustration, you had tried to promise yourself you’d be brave when confronting Electra and yet all you could do was think about the hurt that you felt when they chose Pearl.

Yet when you looked back up at Electra, all of their anger had vanished. “I’m… so sorry.” They said almost defeated and you felt like you had to get your ears checked out by Wrench, did he just say he was sorry?

“I didn’t want to make you feel that way. I- There’s no real excuse for this.” Electra said clearly, opting out of explaining as well. “Just don’t go back to that diesel.” She said, trying to keep her composure of the confidence they normally possessed.

You couldn’t keep back any longer, you just skated forwards and into their arms. “I’m sorry too, for going to Greaseball. I just wanted to prove myself.” You murmured into their chest as he leaned down and kissed the top of your head.

“I know and you did.”

#starlight express #stex #starlight express x reader #greaseball x reader #electra x reader #wow I went kind of wild with this one-#I cooked hard WOO

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