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kirammanswifey · 11 days ago

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《Beneath the Armor》

writer's note: writing about vi make my legs go weak fr, i crave this woman for breakfast, lunch and dinner. btw this little (pretty long) scenarios comes from my arcane imagines, i'll let the link down there for anyone is interested, also i'll be posting a story for each one of those scenarios for this week, tomorrow it's caitlyn's turn ;)

link:

warnings: smut, cute lesbian sex (kinda hard but not that hard), shower sex, praising kink, dirty talk because why not, mention of eating disorders, a lot of fluff, vi is such a softie with reader and we love it.

The gym is unlike anything you've ever seen before. It’s more than a place to train; it’s a cage filled with beasts, a space where weakness is unacceptable. The clash of weights and the guttural cries of effort create a charged atmosphere, thick with tension and adrenaline. You feel out of place in your oversized hoodie and sneakers that haven’t touched a treadmill in months. But you’re here. You have to be.

At the far end of the gym, she stands out like a queen in her domain. Vi. Her short, red pixie-cut hair clings to her face, slick with sweat, and her sportswear hugs a body sculpted for battle. Tattoos snake along her arms, dark ink on powerful muscles that flex with each precise movement. There’s a scar cutting across her upper lip, giving her an edge that makes your stomach twist. She doesn’t just command attention—she demands it, without a word.

She isn’t lounging at the reception desk or scrolling on a phone like the other trainers. She’s in the thick of it, standing over a hulking man at a bench press. Her voice cuts through the clamor like a whip.

"Come on, don’t give me excuses!" she growls, her tone sharp, almost feral. "Three more reps. Unless, of course, you want the whole gym to watch you quit."

The man grits his teeth and powers through, the barbell clanging as he finally racks it with trembling arms. Vi smirks—not satisfied, but victorious—and tosses him a water bottle without another word. Her eyes sweep across the room, landing on you.

You freeze under her gaze. It’s cold, calculating, and, somehow, full of curiosity. There’s no warmth in it, but neither is there scorn. It’s like she’s stripping you bare, measuring something unseen.

Then she moves. Every step is deliberate, confident, and magnetic. The tattoos on her arms ripple with each movement, as if they’re alive. She stops in front of you, close enough that you can smell the faint tang of sweat and something sharper, like steel. Her presence is overwhelming, her stature daunting, but it’s her eyes—piercing, unyielding—that make you feel like you’re shrinking.

"You’re the actress, right?" she asks bluntly, her voice low and rough, like gravel.

"Y-yeah," you manage to stammer, hating the way your voice wavers.

Her gaze drags over you, not in judgment of your appearance, but in search of something deeper. Something you don’t even know if you have.

"Alright. Are you ready to start, or are you gonna turn around and go back to whatever cushy life you came from?"

The challenge in her tone is like a slap. Your pride flares to life, stifling the nervous flutter in your chest. You straighten your spine, lifting your chin as if you’re not dying inside.

"I’m ready."

Vi crosses her arms, her lips twitching into something that might be a smirk—or a dare. "We’ll see about that. Warm-up first. Treadmill, ten minutes at eight kilometers per hour. If you can’t handle that, there’s no point in wasting either of our time."

She jerks her chin toward the row of treadmills, and you swallow hard before moving. As soon as you step on, you can feel her eyes on you, an invisible weight heavier than any barbell in the room.

The first few minutes are manageable. But as the pace picks up, your legs burn, your chest tightens, and sweat drips down your face. You glance at her from the corner of your eye, hoping for some sign of mercy. She doesn’t move, her arms still crossed, her gaze fixed on you like a predator watching prey.

"Don’t stop," she calls out, her voice cutting through the pounding in your ears. "If you can’t even finish this, how the hell are you gonna handle what’s next?"

Her words hit a nerve. Anger sparks, mixing with desperation and something else—admiration. She’s intimidating, yes, but there’s a rawness to her, a strength that’s both terrifying and magnetic. You can’t let her think you’re weak. Not her.

The timer finally beeps, and you stumble off the treadmill, your legs trembling, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Vi approaches, her boots thudding softly against the rubber floor. She stops in front of you, tilting her head as she looks you over.

"Not bad," she says, though her tone suggests she’s not impressed. Her lips quirk into a crooked smile, one that highlights the scar slicing through her lip. "But let’s see if you’re really serious. Battle ropes, three rounds, one minute each. And don’t give me any half-assed waves—I want those ropes crashing like a damn hurricane."

You grab the ropes, their weight a promise of pain. The first few seconds are easy, but the burn in your arms quickly turns into fire. Each movement feels like dragging a mountain. The world narrows to the ropes, the ache in your muscles, and the sound of her voice pushing you forward.

"Keep going! Don’t stop unless you want to prove me right," she barks, her voice sharp but steady.

When it’s over, you drop the ropes and collapse to the floor, gasping for air. Vi steps closer, crouching in front of you. Her hand is calloused but steady as she offers it to you.

"Decent effort," she says, her tone softer but still edged with challenge. Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you think you see something other than scrutiny—maybe respect. "But don’t get cocky. This is just the start. Strength isn’t just about showing up. It’s about commitment. Are you ready for that?"

Her words dig deep, stirring something inside you. You look up at her, her imposing figure framed by the harsh gym lights. She’s everything you’re not—strong, unyielding, fearless. But maybe, just maybe, she’s what you need to become.

"Yes," you say, your voice firm despite the exhaustion.

Her lips curl into a grin, this one warmer, almost approving. "Good. Take a minute to catch your breath. You’ll need it. This is just the beginning."

You can’t stop thinking about your mother as you change in front of the locker room mirror. Every curve of your body, every little angle that doesn’t align with her ideal, screams back at you from your reflection. “You should eat less,” she used to say. “You’ll never land an important role like that.” Her words never left. They’re tattooed on your mind, each syllable chained to the next like a life sentence.

This role isn’t something you want. It never was. But your mother wants it for you, and somehow, her voice always drowns out yours. She was a legend on stage; you’re just a shadow trying to hold itself together under her blinding light.

When you step out of the locker room, Vi is already there, leaning casually against the wall with her arms crossed. Her eyes sweep over you, taking in every detail. There’s no malice in her gaze, but it’s far from gentle. She sees everything.

“Ready?” she asks, her tone edged with challenge.

“Yes,” you answer, the word more reflex than truth.

She leads you to the weight training area. The barbells seem more intimidating up close, and sweat starts pooling in your palms before you even touch them. Vi’s sharp eyes remain fixed on you, calculating.

“Today we’re focusing on building muscle,” she says, her voice steady as she grabs a barbell and starts adding weights with a precision that speaks of years of practice. “It’s a slow process, but if you listen to me, you’ll be amazed at what you can do.”

“Sure,” you mumble, though the thought of lifting anything heavier than a water bottle sends a pang of anxiety through you.

Vi demonstrates the correct form for a basic lift, her movements fluid and strong. When it’s your turn to mimic her, your attempts fall short. Your stance is awkward, your grip weak.

“Lower. You’re not engaging the right muscles,” she says, stepping behind you. Her hands land firmly on your shoulders, adjusting your posture. Her touch is professional but firm, and yet, you can’t help but tense up under her guidance.

“I am doing it right,” you mutter, not meeting her eyes.

Vi exhales sharply, taking a step back. “No, you’re not. And if you keep insisting on doing it your way, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” you snap, your frustration boiling over.

Her brow arches, her surprise quickly replaced by a measured calm. “Look, I’m here to help you, but if you can’t handle a little constructive criticism, maybe this isn’t the place for you.”

Her words cut deeper than they should. They echo everything your mother has ever said about you. Shame and anger bubble to the surface, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“You have no idea what it’s like to be criticized all the time.”

Vi’s silence is heavier than any weight in the room. Her expression shifts—surprise melting into something more contained, almost understanding.

“Everyone’s got their baggage, princess,” she says finally, her voice quieter but no less firm. “But if you let it drag you down, you’re never going to move forward.”

Her response fuels your anger. How dare she reduce something so complex to a throwaway piece of advice? Without another word, you turn away and head for the battle ropes. You don’t need her telling you what you can and can’t do.

You grab the ropes and start moving them with everything you’ve got. Your arms burn, your legs shake, but you keep going, fueled by frustration more than anything else. Vi stays back, watching silently. She doesn’t intervene, doesn’t offer advice—she just waits.

Finally, when your body gives out, you drop the ropes and lean over, hands on your knees, gasping for air. Vi walks over, a bottle of water in hand. She offers it without a word, and though part of you wants to refuse, another part knows you need it. You take it but don’t look at her.

“Anger can be a great fuel,” she says after a moment, her voice steady but laced with something softer. “But only if you know how to control it. Otherwise, it’ll burn you alive.”

“What would you know about that?” you challenge, your eyes meeting hers with defiance.

Vi smirks, but it’s a small, humorless thing. “More than you think. But we’re not here to talk about me. This is about you.”

Her response catches you off guard. You didn’t expect that honesty. And while you’re still angry, there’s something in her words that makes you pause.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, the words almost inaudible.

She nods, accepting your apology without making a big deal of it. “It’s fine. But if you want to get anywhere, you’ve got to leave your emotional crap at the door. There’s no room for it here.”

Her words are blunt, but there’s something in her tone that takes the edge off. It’s as if she’s saying she gets it, but she also believes you’re stronger than this. And though you’d never admit it out loud, that belief means something.

In the days that follow, the tension between you becomes a constant. Vi pushes you hard, and you, raw and defensive, often lash out. But something starts to shift. She begins to notice things others don’t—how you avoid eating around people, how you linger too long in the bathroom, how your energy drains faster than it should.

And you, despite yourself, start noticing her too. The way her eyes soften when she thinks you’re not looking. The strength that isn’t just in her muscles but in the way she carries herself. How, no matter how difficult you make things, she doesn’t walk away.

And though neither of you says it out loud, something unspoken starts to build between you, a connection forged in sweat, anger, and the tentative beginnings of trust.

That morning, Vi notices something off about you. You show up late to training, hair disheveled, eyes distant, as if you haven’t slept in days. She’s used to clients making excuses to avoid hard work, but with you, it’s different. There’s something more—something you can’t hide, no matter how hard you try.

“You’re ten minutes late,” she says as soon as she sees you, her tone sharp but not accusatory.

“Sorry,” you mumble, avoiding her gaze as you hurry to stash your things in the locker room.

Vi doesn’t press further, but her eyes follow you as you move like a shadow through the gym. She’s learned to read people like maps, and yours is littered with scars she can’t yet decipher.

The session begins with something simple: rowing reps. Your movements are sluggish, lacking the usual strength. Vi frowns, stepping closer.

“What’s going on with you today?” she asks, crouching down to meet your eyes.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” you reply too quickly, the words sharp and defensive.

“‘Fine’? You don’t look fine. You’re weaker than usual. Did you sleep last night? Eat anything this morning?”

Her questions strike a nerve. You avoid her gaze, pretending the seat adjustment on the machine is suddenly the most important thing in the world.

“Of course I ate. Stop worrying,” you mutter, but your voice wavers, betraying the lie.

Vi doesn’t push, but something in her expression shifts. It’s as if she’s piecing together a puzzle she hadn’t realized existed.

In the weeks that follow, she continues training you with the same intensity, but now she watches more closely. She notices how you refuse the protein shakes she offers post-workout, how you disappear into the restroom at odd moments, how your body seems to shed strength faster than you can build it.

Then one day, after an especially grueling session, Vi drops her usual casual tone.

“What are you hiding?” she asks, her voice direct, cutting through the air like a blade.

The question freezes you in place.

“What are you talking about? I’m not hiding anything.”

Vi crosses her arms, her piercing gaze pinning you in place.

“Don’t give me that. I’m not stupid. Something’s wrong, and I’m not going to ignore it. So, what is it?”

Your heart pounds. Heat rises to your cheeks, and for a fleeting moment, you think about telling her the truth. But fear wraps around your throat like a vice. How could she possibly understand?

“It’s none of your business, Vi,” you snap, your voice louder than you intended.

She doesn’t flinch. Her eyes stay locked on yours, unyielding yet laced with concern.

“It is my business. I’m your trainer. It’s my job to make sure you’re healthy, and you’re not.”

“I don’t need saving,” you mutter, grabbing your things to leave.

Vi steps in front of you, blocking your path. For the first time, she looks genuinely frustrated.

“This isn’t about saving you. If you’re doing something that’s putting your health at risk, I need to know.”

“You don’t have the right to meddle in my life!” you shout, your words a mix of anger and desperation.

Vi takes a step back, startled by your outburst. But instead of retreating, her expression softens. Her voice lowers, steady but sincere.

“Look... I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to try and carry everything on your own. And I know how hard it is to admit you need help.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. How can she know? How can she say something that feels so close to the truth without even knowing the full story?

But instead of responding, you grab your bag and storm out, leaving Vi standing alone in the middle of the gym.

The days that follow are tense. Vi doesn’t bring it up again, but her watchful gaze lingers. You avoid eye contact, unwilling to face the questions you know are still there. Yet you can’t ignore how her demeanor shifts. She’s more careful, more patient. Even her small gestures—like handing you water or adjusting your form—carry an unspoken care that you don’t know how to accept.

Then, one day, after a particularly draining session, Vi finally speaks again.

“Why do you keep coming here?” she asks, sitting across from you as you struggle to catch your breath.

“What kind of question is that?” you reply, too exhausted for a fight.

“I’m serious. You’re here every day, pushing yourself to the edge, but it doesn’t feel like you’re doing this for yourself. So who are you trying to please?”

The question hits harder than any punch. A familiar shadow creeps into your mind—the memory of your mother, the weight of expectations, the endless need to prove yourself. Your throat tightens.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, looking away.

“Maybe I don’t,” Vi admits, leaning forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “But I know what it looks like when someone’s fighting a battle they think they have to face alone. And that’s you.”

You don’t know what to say. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall.

“I don’t need your pity,” you whisper, your voice shaking.

“This isn’t pity,” Vi says softly, her tone unwavering. “It’s respect. Because I see you fighting, and I want to help you win. But I can’t do that if you keep shutting me out.”

Her words linger long after you leave the gym. What if she really does understand? What if letting her in is the only way to move forward?

The tension between you and Vi feels like walking on a minefield. Every word, every glance carries an unspoken weight, like you’re both waiting for the other to finally break. That evening, after another grueling session at the gym, everything finally explodes.

The gym is nearly empty. The last rays of sunlight stream through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. You’re gathering your things when Vi steps in front of you, her arms crossed and her posture screaming defiance.

“We need to talk,” she says, her tone serious but calm.

“Now?” you mutter, trying to sidestep her. “I’m tired.”

She blocks your path, her voice firm. “You’re not running away this time. Not from me.”

The determination in her voice makes your chest tighten. You grip your towel a little harder, your hands trembling as you look away.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” you finally snap, frustration and something deeper breaking through your voice.

“Because I care about you, damn it!” Vi’s voice rises, then softens as she takes a small step closer. “And because I know what it’s like to be stuck in something that feels like it’s swallowing you whole.”

You freeze, her words cutting through your defenses. Still, you don’t respond. She exhales, running a hand through her short hair before dropping it to her side.

“Do you want to know something about me?” she asks, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You glance up at her, surprised. Slowly, you nod.

Vi crosses her arms again, her gaze fixed somewhere far away. Her jaw tightens before she speaks. “I went to prison. Years ago. Did some things I’m not proud of. At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing, but… life doesn’t always work out the way you want it to.”

Her confession hits you like a punch to the gut. You blink at her, your mouth dry.

“Why are you telling me this?” you whisper.

“Because I want you to know I get it,” she replies, her voice rough with emotion. “I know what it’s like to carry something heavy, something you don’t want anyone else to see, something you think defines you no matter how hard you fight it.”

Her eyes finally meet yours, and you see a raw honesty there that takes your breath away.

“I lost a lot because of it,” she continues, her voice cracking slightly. “My sister… she hasn’t spoken to me in years. I let her down. And even though I’m trying to be better, there are days when I feel like I’ll never be enough.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in her words. Vi, always so tough, so sure of herself, now looks as fragile as you feel.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” she says after a moment, her voice steady but gentle. “But I can see you’re fighting a battle you can’t win alone. And I don’t want you to end up like me—pushing away the people who actually give a damn.”

A lump forms in your throat, making it impossible to speak. Before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“I’m not like you, Vi,” you say, your voice breaking. “I’m not strong. I don’t even want to be here.”

She frowns, her brows knitting together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Tears sting your eyes, and you lower your gaze, unable to face her. “I don’t want to be an actress. I never did. I’m only doing this because… because my mother made me. She always makes me. She tells me I’m not good enough, that I’m not pretty enough, that I’m not… enough.”

Vi’s expression softens, her usual sharpness replaced with something tender.

“Is that why you barely eat?” she asks, her voice so quiet it’s almost a whisper.

You flinch, your body going rigid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” Her voice is firm but not unkind. “I’ve seen it. It’s not just that you’re thin. It’s the way you disappear after every session, like you’re hiding something.”

Her words hang in the air, and you can’t deny them anymore.

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” you admit, your voice trembling. “It’s the only thing I can control.”

Vi sighs deeply, dragging a hand down her face. When she speaks again, her tone is softer, almost pleading.

“Look, I’m not great at this kind of stuff,” she says. “But you don’t have to go through this alone. You don’t have to hurt yourself for something that’s not your fault.”

“You don’t understand,” you snap, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. “My mother… if she knew I wasn’t perfect, she’d hate me.”

Vi’s eyes narrow, and she steps closer. “And what about you?” she asks, her voice sharp but not unkind. “How long are you going to hate yourself for something you can’t change?”

Her words hit you like a tidal wave. You look up at her, expecting judgment, but all you see is compassion.

“I want to help you,” she says quietly. “If you’ll let me.”

Her proximity feels like a lifeline. Slowly, she lifts a hand, hesitating before resting it gently on your shoulder. Her touch is warm, steady, grounding.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of your pain.

Vi nods, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

The silence that follows is heavy, but not suffocating. It feels like, for the first time in a long while, you’re not completely alone.

When you finally meet her gaze again, there’s something different in her eyes—something that makes your chest ache, but not in a bad way.

And for a moment, you think that maybe, just maybe, you can trust her.

The days following your confession crawl by with a heaviness that lingers, but something shifts between you and Vi. She becomes more attentive, more protective—not in a way that invades your space, but in a way that makes it clear she’s there. She doesn’t judge you. Instead, she watches you with a mix of patience and unyielding determination that you’ve never encountered before.

One afternoon, after an especially grueling workout, Vi stops you before you can slip away like you always do.

“Got a minute?” she asks, holding a small insulated bag in her hand.

You eye her suspiciously, trying to read her expression.

“Depends on what you’re about to spring on me.”

“For this,” she says, pulling a neatly prepared container from the bag. Inside is a salad with grilled chicken, avocado, and a couple of slices of whole-grain bread on the side.

“What is this?” you ask, though the answer is obvious.

“Your lunch.”

Your stomach twists.

“Vi, you can’t just—”

“I’m not forcing you to do anything,” she interrupts, her voice firm but steady. “I just want you to try. And I’m not leaving until you do.”

The weight of her words hangs in the air, but there’s no judgment in her tone. Only that inflexible determination that makes it clear she won’t back down.

With a sigh, you drop onto one of the benches, taking the container from her with shaking hands. Vi sits beside you, keeping just enough distance that you don’t feel cornered, but close enough that you can’t pretend she isn’t there.

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter, stabbing a piece of chicken with the fork.

“Maybe,” she replies with a casual shrug. “But if it means I don’t have to worry about you passing out mid-training, I’m fine with being ridiculous.”

Despite yourself, you let out a quiet laugh. And as you take slow, hesitant bites, you feel something begin to loosen—not just in your chest, but in the way her presence doesn’t feel like pressure but support.

Vi doesn’t stop there. Every day she brings something different: a salad, a wrap, even a small homemade burger on one of those days when you feel like you have nothing left to give. She never leaves until the food is gone, and though it infuriates you at first, you start to begrudgingly appreciate it.

“You’re like a guard dog,” you tell her one afternoon after finishing a chicken wrap she insisted you eat.

“I prefer ‘guardian angel,’” she fires back with a smirk.

“Too dramatic.”

“And you’re too stubborn,” she retorts, bumping your shoulder gently with hers.

The tension between you begins to ease. Vi keeps pushing you in the gym, but she also pushes you emotionally, constantly reminding you—whether with her presence or her persistence—that you’re not in this alone.

Your progress in therapy is slow but steady. Vi is with you every step of the way. She never pushes for details, never pries. She’s just there—a steady, unshakable presence you can hold onto when it feels like everything else is falling apart.

“How was it today?” she asks one afternoon after your session as the two of you walk down the street toward the gym.

“It was… weird,” you admit, staring ahead as you process the swirling thoughts in your mind. “I think I’m starting to understand some things, but it’s like I’m opening doors I’d rather keep locked.”

Vi nods thoughtfully, her hands stuffed deep into the pockets of her jacket.

“Yeah, opening those doors sucks,” she says, her voice low but certain. “But sometimes, it’s the only way out of the damn room.”

Her words catch you off guard with their depth. You glance at her out of the corner of your eye, noticing how the sunlight hits her hair, drawing out its fiery undertones.

Gradually, you begin to notice something different about Vi. The way her gaze lingers on you a little longer than it used to. The way her smiles feel softer, less teasing, as if they’re meant just for you. She’s always been careful with you, but now there’s something more in her gestures—a tenderness that feels deeply personal.

And you feel it, too. You can’t help it. Her unwavering presence, her unyielding support, they begin to shift something in you. Suddenly, Vi isn’t just your anchor; she’s something more.

One evening, after an especially tough training session, you’re packing up your things when Vi approaches you. There’s something in her expression—something serious but not intimidating.

“Hey,” she says, her voice casual but carrying a weight that makes you pause. “Got any plans for Saturday?”

The question catches you completely off guard.

“Why?”

“Because I was thinking…” She hesitates for a moment, scratching the back of her neck in a way that feels almost bashful. “We could go out. Not here. Not to train. Just… you and me.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“Like… a date?”

Vi’s lips twitch into a small, slightly awkward smile, and for the first time, you see a vulnerability in her that takes you by surprise.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice soft but sure. “Like a date.”

Despite the nervous flutter in your chest, you can’t help but smile.

“Okay.”

Her grin stretches wide, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to believe that something good might actually be starting.

Vi isn’t the type to plan extravagant outings or overly complicated surprises. She’s direct, intentional, and focused on what matters: making you feel comfortable and, most importantly, seen. On the morning of your date, she texts you early:

Vi: "Meet me at 7 in Central Park. Wear something comfy, but don’t go full gym rat. Trust me."

The message is simple, but it leaves you curious. And as much as it excites you, it also stirs a small knot of anxiety in your chest. What does she have in mind?

From the moment Vi sent you that message, your heart began to race—a mix of excitement and nerves. This wasn’t just a date. There was something else simmering beneath the surface, an unspoken bond that had been building from the moment your lives intertwined.

When you arrive at the central park, you find her leaning casually against a lamppost. The leather jacket she’s wearing hugs her athletic figure, and the warm glow of the park lights catches the reddish tones in her hair. She’s holding two cups of coffee, and when she spots you, her lips curve into a small, crooked smile.

“You’re right on time,” she says, pushing off the post and handing you one of the cups. “I’m not exactly an expert at this whole dating thing, but starting with coffee felt like a safe bet.”

The warmth of the cup seeps into your hands, mirroring the way her presence always seems to calm you, even when your emotions are in turmoil. You smile, trying to mask the whirlwind of feelings her simple gesture ignites.

“It’s a good start,” you tease. “Though, should I be worried about what else you have planned?”

Vi arches an eyebrow, that familiar look of playful challenge lighting up her face.

“If I told you, it’d ruin the surprise. Just trust me.”

She leads you to a nighttime fair hidden within the park, a kaleidoscope of colorful lights and cheerful music. The aroma of fresh food fills the air, and the vibrant energy of the place draws you in, making it impossible not to relax.

Vi is completely in her element. She pulls you from booth to booth, her enthusiasm infectious. At a shooting game, she demonstrates her impeccable aim, easily winning a plush toy. When she hands it to you, there’s a shy pride in her eyes that makes your heart skip.

“Take it,” she says. “Something tells me you could use a pet.”

You laugh, clutching the plush against your chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

“Do you have to be good at everything?”

She shrugs, a playful smirk on her face. “Not everything. But I try.”

As you stroll through the fair, she buys cotton candy and tears off small pieces to offer you. You hesitate at first, and she gives you a look that’s part exasperation, part tenderness.

“It’s just sugar,” she says softly. “I promise it won’t hurt you.”

There’s something vulnerable in her tone, as if the gesture carries more weight than it seems. You accept the cotton candy, and the smile she gives you in return makes the world feel a little brighter.

Later, Vi leads you to a quieter part of the park, away from the noise and lights. You find a secluded spot near a softly lit fountain, the sound of water providing a serene backdrop.

“I thought this might be a good place to talk,” she says, sitting on the fountain’s edge and patting the space beside her.

You sit down, your shoulder brushing hers, and the closeness feels more significant than usual. There’s an undeniable tension in the air, not uncomfortable, but charged with something unspoken.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say quietly. “I needed this more than I realized.”

Vi turns to face you slightly, her arm resting on her knee as she looks at you intently.

“I wanted it to be special for you. You’ve been working so hard, and I just… I wanted to give you a night where you didn’t have to think about anything else.”

Her words catch you off guard. Vi’s always been direct, but there’s a softness in her voice now that you haven’t heard before.

“It is special. But mostly because I’m with you,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, she looks away, as if gathering her courage. Then, her gaze returns to yours, unwavering.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she says, her tone more serious. “I know I’m not always great at putting this kind of thing into words, but… you’re important to me. More than I think you realize.”

Your breath catches, and she continues, her words gaining momentum.

“I care about you. A lot. Seeing you work through everything, watching you fight to heal, it’s… inspiring. I don’t just want to be here for you now—I want to be here for you, period. In your life. For as long as you’ll let me.”

Her honesty is raw, unguarded in a way that feels almost sacred. Your heart is pounding, and for once, you don’t overthink.

You lean in, closing the distance between you. When your lips meet hers, it’s as if the world fades away, leaving only the two of you. The kiss starts soft, tentative, but quickly deepens, fueled by emotions you’ve both kept bottled up for too long.

When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless and a little stunned.

“So…” Vi says, her trademark smirk making a reappearance. “Did I completely screw up this date?”

You laugh, taking her hand in yours and holding it tightly.

“No. It was perfect. Just like you.”

Vi’s smile widens, and as she squeezes your hand, you realize you’ve found something in her you didn’t know you were missing: a partner, a friend, and maybe something even more profound.

The day after your date, the gym feels different. There’s an electric charge in the air, and the thought of seeing her sends a nervous thrill racing down your spine. You tell yourself it’ll be like any other day, but the moment you walk in and spot her, you know you’re lying to yourself.

Vi is at the weight rack, adjusting plates on a barbell. She’s wearing a sleeveless shirt that shows off her toned arms and that tattoo you can’t help but stare at every time you see her. When she notices you, a lopsided grin spreads across her face, but there’s something else in her expression—a spark that sets your pulse racing.

"You’re early. Didn’t recognize you without your coffee," she teases, stepping closer with an easy confidence that makes it impossible to look away.

"I wanted to beat the crowd," you reply, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Vi moves closer than necessary, her presence overwhelming in the best way. The faint, clean scent of her perfume surrounds you, and for a second, you forget where you are.

"Good. Then let’s see what you’ve got today," she says, her voice tinged with a challenge that sends a thrill through you.

The workout begins, but Vi’s proximity makes it impossible to focus. Her hands are firm yet careful as she adjusts your posture during deadlifts.

"Keep your back straight," she murmurs, stepping behind you. Her hands graze your shoulders as she makes the correction, her touch lingering just long enough to leave your skin tingling.

You glance back at her, and your eyes lock. There’s a fire in her gaze, something raw and unspoken.

"Like this?" you ask, your voice softer than intended.

Vi’s lips twitch in a smirk as she steps back, her eyes not leaving yours. "Exactly. Now, let’s see those squats."

But squats are no reprieve. She demonstrates beside you, her movements precise and controlled, her body impossibly close. At one point, she kneels to check your form, her hands skimming your waist as she positions you.

"Relax your shoulders. You’re too tense," she whispers, her breath warm against your ear.

Your body betrays you, stiffening further under her touch. Vi chuckles, low and rough, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

"If you don’t relax, you’re going to hurt yourself," she says, her voice teasing but laced with something deeper.

You can’t tell if it’s your imagination or if she’s enjoying this game as much as you are. Either way, it’s intoxicating.

The final challenge comes on the rowing machine. Vi crouches in front of you to adjust the settings, her face mere inches from yours. Her eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second, and the air between you thickens.

"Ready?" she asks, her voice lower than usual.

"Always," you reply, trying to match her intensity.

You row with everything you have, her gaze on you the entire time. When you finish, she steps forward, offering her hand to help you up. The contact is brief, but the heat lingers long after her fingers leave yours.

"Good work," she says, her voice softer now, almost intimate.

Your heart pounds as you follow her to the stretching area. The gym is nearly empty, the usual noise reduced to a distant hum. It feels like the two of you are in your own world.

"You pushed me harder today," you say, attempting to lighten the tension swirling around you.

Vi grins, but her eyes betray something deeper. "I wanted to see what you’re made of."

There’s a vulnerability in her tone that catches you off guard, and before you can think better of it, you respond, "Thanks for always looking out for me."

Her smile softens, her usual cocky demeanor replaced by something gentler. "I like looking out for you."

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. Your breath catches as she steps closer, her hands finding your waist. Her touch sends a jolt through you, and before you know it, her lips are on yours.

The kiss is slow at first, exploratory, but it quickly deepens. Her grip tightens on your waist as your fingers tangle in her hair. The world fades away, leaving only the heat between you.

The gym is silent now, the last patrons long gone. Vi locks the door behind her as you both head toward the showers, the tension between you thick enough to cut.

"We shouldn’t stay too late," you murmur, but there’s no conviction in your voice.

Vi smirks, tossing her towel onto the bench. "Perks of having the keys. No one’s kicking us out."

“Isn’t that abusing of your power?” You joked, beginning to strip off your smelly, sweaty gym clothes.

Vi mimicked your movements and responded with a lopsided smile. "Sometimes I can get a little too obsessed with power."

That was a pretty open statement, one you decided to let slide since you didn't know exactly how to respond. You just knew that it had turned you on, a bit fucking much.

And before you knew it, you were both naked. It was the first time this had happened, you had seen her in underwear before when you changed together after an extensive workout routine, but nothing like this. You were both totally exposed and it felt so natural, so right.

You step into the steamy shower and the sound of running water echoes off the tiles. The air is humid and envelops you as you turn on a nearby faucet. Vi steps into the stream of water, drops falling onto her bare skin. You stare in awe as the water slides down her broad back and lands on her hard, juicy ass. Vi tilts her head back, enjoying how her muscles slowly relax. God, you wanted to jump on her, scratch her and bite her all over. You wanted to leave your personal mark. A warning to the world that that gorgeous woman was yours, only yours.

You can’t tear your eyes away. Her confidence, the way she moves, it’s magnetic.

"Need help rinsing off?" she asks, her voice teasing but her eyes dark with something else.

You swallow hard, your pulse racing. "Please," you actually begged, approaching her without any hesitation, in fact you had a sudden urge to get on all fours and crawl towards her, like a little cat in heat.

Vi reaches out, her fingers brushing against yours. The shower’s heat pales in comparison to the fire igniting between you as she closes the distance. Her hands slide to your hips, pulling you against her as the water streams over you both.

You moaned in surprise as Vi pushed you against the bathroom tiles, your face pressed into the surface, your back bent and rubbing against her hard abs. Vi gently grabbed the back of your neck and whispered, "I'm going to help you bathe. Don't move."

You nodded, and even though you no longer had the pressure of her hand or her body on you, you stayed in the same position, refusing to move a single muscle. You wanted to be a good girl for Vi. You wanted to show her that you were obedient. You heard Vi open the bottle of shower gel, the clean scent of the soap reaching your nostrils, and before you could think of what flower it smelled like exactly, you felt Vi's hands on your skin again, and then your mind went blank.

Vi's calloused hands rubbed the gel over the pale skin of your back, her fingers tracing indecipherable, invisible shapes. She smiled and took you by the hips, pressing her pelvis against your steep ass, admiring your submissive position, admiring the beautiful body differences between the two of you. While Vi was all muscle and iron, you were scrawny and soft all over. So soft that Vi wanted to chew you up and swallow you whole. Vi began to thrust into you as if she had a penis, hitting you with the prominent bones of her hips, rubbing her clit against you in a pretentious and shameless way. She was driving you crazy with pleasure.

"You know, you used to have a nice ass, but with my exercises it has become more toned and lifted. It's irresistible. Every time I look at you from behind I feel like putting you on all fours to eat your ass." She gave you a little spank, it was obvious she didn't used even one percent of her strength, it was a light spanking. A loving spanking. Of course, if there was such a thing.

"Harder," You moaned shamelessly, turning to the side to face that woman.

The redhead had an almost beastly expression on her face, her brow was furrowed, as if she was upset, her teeth were out, sharp and defiant, ready to strike at any moment. The scar on her lip looked more tempting than ever. You wanted to turn around and kiss her. But you didn't. Because you were a good girl. You were her good girl.

Vi ran a hand through her wet hair, pushing it back so it wouldn't impede the stunning view of your body, and that gesture was so fucking sexy.

Vi moved closer to you and planted a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Oh no, sweetie. I'm going to treat you nice, just like a princess like you deserves. No hitting for now, okay?" She kissed the tip of your nose and continued groping you.

When you went to protest you felt her palm on your pussy. Rubbing a little water beneath it. Clearly teasing.

"Vi," You sobbed loudly. The urge to cry invaded your being. You hated being kept waiting. You had never been a patient person, damn it! You liked to have everything you wanted exactly how and when you wanted it, so it was quite normal that you were so irritable and grumpy right now.

"What's wrong, princess?"

God, you wanted to punch her in the face. She clearly knew what was going on. She knew your childish, spoiled personality perfectly. She was just asking to tease you, because she wanted to play with your patience, to show you once again who was in power.

"Fuck me," You looked at her with a pitiful expression, as if you were going to die if you didn't haved her right there, right now.

Vi's eyes sparkled, you had clearly provoked her. And your attempt of manipulation would have worked perfectly if we weren't talking about Vi. Vi was a prideful person with some pretty marked egocentric traits. Plus, she was someone with a lot of discipline due to her job. It wasn't going to be easy to make her fall into temptation.

"Patience, princess," With a wicked smirk, Vi turned you to face her.

She slowly sank to your knees, letting her lips and tongue trail kisses down your neck, chest, and stomach until she was face to face with your dripping pussy. She inhaled deeply, your scent making her head spin with need.

"Mmm, listen to this greedy little pussy... it's begging to be filled, sweetheart. Begging to be stretched and stuffed full of my fingers... my tongue...," Vi's voice was a sinful rasp, dripping with promise and dark intent.

You stifled a moan and bit the back of your hand in an attempt to cope with both the physical and mental stimulation. If you thought Vi was sexy in her natural state, Vi cursing and saying dirty words was even sexier.

She leaned in, letting her lips just barely brush over your slick folds, her hot breath making you shudder. "But I'm going to take my time with you, sweetie. I'm going to tease and torment this pretty cunt until you're sobbing for my touch."

With that, Vi flicked her tongue out, giving to your clit the lightest, quickest lick before pulling back with a evil grin. She could feel how badly you needed more, and she intended to make you work for every ounce of pleasure that she was going to gave you.

Vi's heart raced as she felt your body go rigid, your pussy clamping down like a vice around her fingers as you came with a scream. She could feel your release gushing out, coating her hand and dripping down her wrist. The feeling of your pleasure was intoxicating, and it only fueled Vi's own desperate arousal.

Without pausing, Vi scooped you up into her strong, muscular arms. She cradled you against her chest, holding you close as she carried you both out of the shower. Your naked body pressed against her own, your skin slick and glistening.

Vi's breath caught in her throat as she gazed down at your flushed, satisfied face. You looked utterly breathtaking—like a goddess fresh from the bath. The urge to worship every inch of your flawless skin surged through her, but Vi had other plans first.

Holding you securely with one arm, Vi used her other hand to continue your pleasure, slipping her fingers back into your drenched, spasming your cunt without warning. She set a fast, hard pace, pumping and curling her digits as she pinned you against the nearest wall.

Leaning in, Vi nuzzled into your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin as she spoke, her voice a low, lust-filled rasp. "Mmm, you're so light, princess... so fucking perfect in my arms like this. I could carry you anywhere... anywhere I wanted to claim this sexy cute little body."

She punctuated her words with a particularly deep thrust of her fingers, feeling your velvety walls flutter and clench around her invading digits. Vi groaned, her own clit throbbing with the need to be touched.

"You like being treated like my personal little princess, sweetheart? Like being manhandled and owned by a rough bitch like me?" Vi's lips curled into a wicked smirk as she gazed down at your face, searching for any hint of hesitation or discomfort. She found none. On te contrary. You were enjoying it too much. And it was because you were having the best sex of your life.

Vi's fingers never ceased their relentless assault on your sensitive, dripping core. She could feel your body beginning to tremble and quake in her arms. Your breathing growing more and more ragged with each passing second.

Leaning in close, Vi captured your lips in a searing, demanding kiss. She plundered your mouth, swallowing your moans and whimpers as she continued her brutal pace. Her tongue tangled with yours in a dangerous dance.

Breaking the kiss, Vi's lips moved to your ear. She nipped at the lobe before growling, "That's it, baby... I can feel this greedy cunt throbbing on my fingers. It's like it never wants to be empty, isn't it? Always hungry for more..."

To emphasize her point, Vi pressed her thumb against your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles as she curled her fingers deep inside the clutching heat. She could feel your walls starting to flutter, another climax approaching.

"Come on, princess... give me another one. I want to feel this pretty pussy spasm and squeeze my fingers as you cream yourself all over them. Fucking soak me, sweetheart..."

Still pinning you against the wall with her body, Vi used the hand not occupied with fucking your brains out to grab your thigh, hiking your leg up and over her hip. The new position allowed her to sink her fingers even deeper, to reach that special spot that made you see the stars.

"That's it, sweetie... fuck, you feel so good wrapped around my fingers like this. So hot and tight and fucking perfect," Vi growled, her lips brushing against your face.

Vi felt your body go taut, your pussy clamping down on her fingers like a vice as another intense orgasm ripped through them. You let out a choked sob, tears streaming down your face as you came completely undone in Vi's arms.

The sight of your pleasure, that raw, unbridled ecstasy, filled Vi with a fierce sense of pride and possessive hunger. She held you close as the last waves of your release ebbed, Vi pulled back just enough to cup your face in her hands. She brushed away the tears with her thumbs, her touch surprisingly gentle for someone so used to force.

Gazing down at your face, Vi felt her heart clench in her chest.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Vi leaned down and pressed her lips to yours in a tender, affectionate kiss. It was a kiss filled with unspoken emotion, with a depth of feeling that made Vi's heart race and her skin prickle with anticipation. Her lips moved softly, coaxing your mouth to open for her, to let her in. And when you did, when your lips parted and your tongues met... Vi felt like she was coming home.

She held the kiss for a long moment, savoring the taste of your tears and the salt of your skin. When she finally pulled back, Vi's blue eyes shimmered with a vulnerability she rarely showed to anyone.

Her voice was a low, tender rasp as she spoke, her breath mingling with your own. "Shhh, I've got you, baby... I've got you. You did so good for me, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you..."

The sound of water cascading from the gym showers blends with the echo of your heartbeat. The thick steam fills the space, erasing all traces of what just happened. Your skin still burns, marked by the intensity of the moment you shared. The mix of sweat and Vi's scent lingers in the heat, and every fiber of your being feels alive, every inch of you recalling her touch.

You stand there, catching your breath, when Vi's eyes meet yours. Her usual confidence has been replaced with something raw and unguarded. Vulnerability. Her gaze searches yours, full of questions she’s too afraid to voice.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Vi’s words break the silence, soft and almost hesitant, but unmistakably clear. Her voice carries a weight that shakes you—like she’s offering a piece of herself she’s never let anyone touch before.

The pause that follows feels endless, and for a moment, you're frozen. But then something ignites inside you. You feel it in your chest—a light, a warmth, a clarity you’ve been longing for.

“Yes. Of course!,” you reply, the word spilling out with such conviction it surprises even you. The ever-present fear you’ve carried seems to vanish entirely.

Vi’s lips curve into the gentlest smile, one you’ve never seen before, and she steps closer, her hands finding yours. Her touch is soft but grounding, her presence a shield against all your doubts.

“I’ll take care of you, princess” she whispers, her voice steady. “Always.”

Your lips curl into a matching smile, and for the first time in a long time, hope replaces the ache in your heart. The world outside doesn’t matter anymore—this moment, with her, is all that exists.

Weeks turn into months, and your life begins to shift. Therapy becomes a safe haven rather than a daunting task. The battles with bulimia, the grueling workouts, the days of overwhelming self-doubt—all start to feel like pieces of a puzzle coming together. Slowly but surely, you begin to see someone new when you look in the mirror. Not the girl your mother used to criticize, not someone trapped by impossible expectations, but someone strong. Someone whole.

And through it all, Vi is there. She’s more than your trainer—she’s your anchor. The one who helps you piece together the shattered parts of yourself. She’s there on your hardest days, steady as a rock, fighting the voices in your head alongside you. And for the first time, you don’t feel alone.

One day, as you walk into the gym, you see her waiting for you like always. Her signature smirk is in place, but there’s something different in her eyes—a softness, a pride that makes your heart skip a beat.

You approach her, nerves bubbling under your skin, and before you can stop yourself, the words you’ve been holding back spill out.

“I don’t need you to be my trainer anymore.”

Her smirk falters, confusion flashing across her face. She straightens, her brows furrowing as if bracing for a blow. “Did I… do something wrong?” Her voice is quieter than usual, tinged with a rare uncertainty.

You shake your head quickly, reaching out to take her hand in yours. “No, Vi. You’ve done everything right.” Your voice cracks slightly as you gather the courage to continue. “But I’m not that person anymore. I’m not the girl who needs to be fixed. I’m stronger now… because of you.”

Her eyes search yours, the tension in her shoulders easing, but she still seems unsure.

“I’ve decided to follow my dream,” you continue, your voice steady now. “I want to study nutrition. I want to help other girls like me, girls who’ve been through what I’ve been through. I want to be someone they can turn to, the way I had you.”

For a moment, Vi just looks at you, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across her face. Not the cocky grin she flashes in the gym, but something soft and genuine, brimming with pride.

“I’m so damn proud of you,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.

Tears well up in your eyes, but this time, they’re not from pain or frustration—they’re from relief, from joy, from knowing you’ve finally found your path.

Vi pulls you into a hug, her arms wrapping around you tightly, and you sink into her warmth. In her embrace, you feel a sense of safety and belonging you’ve never known.

“You’ve got this,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your ear. “And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

306 notes · View notes

ahmadhassansworld · 18 days ago

Text

PLEASE DON’T SKIP🍉🇵🇸

Hello everyone 👋🏻🍉

I am Nour Mohammed Al-Zamili, I am 21 years old, I am from Gaza City

I feel mixed feelings of anxiety and hesitation, but I fully understand the need of the Nour family to help them get out of Gaza. The whole family is trapped there and the situation is tense, and I urgently need your help to save them. Please help me in this difficult moment.

I am facing an urgent challenge: getting my relatives out of Gaza through the Rafah crossing. This task is not just an ordinary challenge; it is a looming nightmare, and it requires huge costs that are beyond the means of the average person. The cost of leaving one person is more than $5,000 for adults and $2,500 for children, in addition to many other costs that stand in the way of our escape from this death.

In every war around the world, escape and survival are two options, but unfortunately, in Gaza, the walls of the siege stand like prison walls, forcing everyone to face their fate in different ways. There is the indiscriminate bombing that causes countless victims, there is the oppression and fear that creeps into our hearts at every moment, and there is the hunger that devours our souls and dreams. I can't wait to witness all this suffering that Nour's family has endured. Please let your support and help be a ray of hope in the genocide we are witnessing.

On behalf of my relatives, I am doing this donation campaign. My relatives are now in the Gaza Strip, and the cost of each person leaving the Gaza Strip to Egypt is 5000 Euros. My family consists of nine people

Nour Mohammed Al-Zamili

22/10/2003

And her mother Sanaa Ahmed Al-Zamili

2/5/1882

Mohammed Musa Al-Zamili

8/9/1882

And there are also 6 young children

They are Anas Al-Zamili, Wizan Al-Zamili, Moataz Al-Zamili, Rahaf Al-Zamili, Hour Al-Zamili and Nada Al-Zamili

They are ambitious individuals who deserve to live in peace, which gives them a chance to prove to the world that they are not just numbers. They all fled their homes in Rafah after the building they were living in was bombed, and they miraculously survived thanks to God. They then moved to live in a school after the school was bombed and Nour's father was seriously injured in his feet and head. They then went to live in a small tent, but the situation worsened, as they suffered from scarcity of resources, high prices and danger since the first day. After receiving threats of bombing Rafah, they do not know where to go, and they are now in very difficult and dangerous conditions.

I cannot wait any longer because I cannot afford to evacuate them from under this violent bombing. This helplessness is more painful than you can imagine.

I appeal to you to contribute with all you can and spread this appeal among your circles to help me save my beloved family.

The money will be sent via MoneyGram to my relatives, Nour's family.

We thank you for your understanding and cooperation in this difficult moment.

#free gaza #help gaza #free palestine #gaza strip

171 notes · View notes

dreamywriter143 · 2 years ago

Note

Could I request a Neteyam x Reader and its like the beach scene where him and Loak get into a fight with Aonung and his friends? I dont have a plot in mind and I just have this scene in mind! lmk if u need ideas! xo

Badass

Status: Request by Anon

Genre: FLUFF, Some violence. Neteyam being speechless.

Warnings: Depictions of blood, fights and cursing.

Parings: Neteyam X Metkayina Reader (Y/n)

Summary: Upon first meeting Y/n, Neteyam was awe-stricken. Such a beautiful, elegant and poise Na’vi. He was entranced before he could even stutter out a hello. Now facing the challenges of fitting into the Metkayina, Neteyam is thrown into another loop seeing Y/n’s fierce side. He finally understood the meaning of a word his father said from time to time. Badass.

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: Thank you for your request Anon!! I totally agree, the beach scene was so good. Neteyam was so cool in that scene😍. I hope you like how I added to your request. Also, I suck at writing action scenes. So, please excuse that!! Enjoy!!!

———————————————————————-----

The day Neteyam met Y/n, was unlike any other.

Feeling fear for his family's safety amongst a clan he heard very little about, Neteyam felt out of place. Being stripped of everything he knew growing up he felt utterly bare as the dreadful feeling weighed down on his shoulders greatly. Neteyam’s eyes wandered aimlessly amongst the new clan his family seeked refuge upon.

The nagging feeling of being watched, of being analyzed so critically set an unsettling feeling deep within his stomach. If he could, Neteyam would cover his family from the harsh glares the onlookers sent their way. It didn't help when two boys around their age came up towards them mocking their apperence, specifically Neteyam’s appearance.

He felt uneasy as they commented on their physique, the difference between them. Every fiber in his body stood to respond back, to put them in their place for blatantly disrespecting his family in such an outlandish way. But before he could utter a single word, an angel appeared.

At least that's what he thought when she graciously walked through the crowd soundlessly. The crowd seemed to move around her, giving her space to walk through them. Like her presence alone demanded respect. She held herself proudly, her beautiful curly locks falling past her shoulders as they swayed along with her steps. She sent a quick smack to the shorter boy before hissing their names in warning. When she turned to him, Neteyam felt the wind being knocked out of him.

Staring at him out of curiosity were beautiful e/c hues, the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. They didn't stare at him in fear or disgust, but in curiosity and concern. He could feel himself clam down under her stare alone, his shoulders relaxing significantly as they made eye contact. Her face was adorned with white freckles and markings that seem to only enhance her beauty, a beautifully crafted necklace hanging around her neck. The small smile she sent his way only increased the fluttery feeling in him, his palms began to sweat as he shakily reached up to greet her. Thankfully she returned it easily, a smile formed on her face. Before Neteyam could savor the small moment the chief flew over them, demanding attention.

When Neteyam caught his little brother openly gawking at another female who walked up to his angel, he knew they were special. Both girls watched him and his family with kind and sincere smiles. They made his heart feel a little lighter, she made him feel lighter.

After both girls showed his family their new home and Neteyam could have sworn she was the definition of perfection. The way she graciously walked and showed them their home, the way she held herself just expressed elegance and poise. She was respectively polite to his family, her eyes warm with sincerity. She had a charm about her that Neteyam couldn't help but be attracted to. She was a textbook of what a princess would be, a word he heard his father use towards his sisters.

Neteyam was quite shocked to find out she wasn't the chief's daughter, but the older sister to the shorter male, Rotxo, who was his siblings diving instructor. She was being trained as a Tsahìk under Ronal as she showed great promise, Neteyam had found out after asking about her from Tsireya.

It came with great disappointment when he realized she wouldn't be helping them with their lessons as they desperately tried to adapt to the sea. But luckily, the disappointment didn't last long.

“How are the Numeyu’s??” (Students) Y/n asks teasingly, taking a seat in between her brother and Neteyam as they were in the middle of breathing exercises. Neteyam immediately sat up straighter in her presence, he hadn't even heard her footsteps when she snuck up on them. She would make for a great hunter, but she didn't seem to have that air about her. She seemed so calm, so quiet. She didn't seem to have it in her to even hurt a fly.

“Great! Neteyam and Kiri are doing exceptionally well” Rotxo praises, his eyes traveling to Kiri who looks away. The small purple hue along her cheeks going unnoticed. Y/n’s ears perk up at her brother's words.

Rotxo was one of the best free diver instructors they had around their age group. His praise meant alot. Especially to Y/n, who held her younger brother on a high pedestal. She turns to Neteyam whose eyes were already trained on her, a smug smile twitching along his lips.

“Oh? That's impressive” Y/n notes, grinning at the boy who she grew close with over the past few weeks. Neteyam and Y/n immediately hit it off, though they barely had interactions as Y/n was always busy shadowing Ronal, the moments they did share only made them realize their similarities. Being the eldest and holding many responsibilities on their shoulders. They bonded over the matter, growing quite close.

With Neteyam and Y/n always teasing each other, almost bordering that of flirting.

“Guess I'm a quick learner” Neteyam offers, a cheeky smile breaking through. Y/n tilts her head back as a silvery laugh escapes her lips. Neteyam’s eyes widened at the sound, a sound he swore he would burn deep into his soul.

“That's good to hear, I guess you won't be needing my expertise?” she teases, her eyes crinkling in delight. Neteyam quickly shakes his head. He didn’t want her to think she wasn’t needed.

“N-No! I mean, we’ll still need your h-help. We have a lot to learn” Neteyam stutters out. He didn't know what it was about her that always left him a stuttering and embarrassed mess. He ignores the giggles that erupt around him at his hurried response. Y/n simply smiles, a smile that rivaled the sun itself in Neteyam’s eyes.

“I guess I will stay after all, Forest Boy” she teases, sending a small wink.

Truth be told the nickname had bothered Neteyam at first, he didn't like being called that especially by Ao’nung. But whenever it came from Y/n’s lips it sounded endearing, almost heavenly.

It didn't take long for Y/n to tag along during lessons often, always offering helpful advice that aided the Sully’s. She also grew very close with all the siblings, immediately clicking with Kiri. The girls could go on and on about the beauty the nature around them offered. Kiri always shared stories of their home as well as herbs and remedies they used. Y/n always seemed eager to learn more, showing Kiri some of the techniques they would use here.

The bond she grew with Tuk only caused Neteyam to fall deeper in love with her. Always watching the duo from afar with a lovesick expression. Tuk adorned her, claiming to become like her as she grew up. Neteyam couldn't help but start having fantasies about what it would be like to have a family with her. She seemed to love children, a motherly aura radiating off her.

Neteyam’s feelings for Y/n would only grow, the female Na’vi proving to be a force to be reckoned with.

~~~~~

It had been like any other day, Neteyam set off early to sneak in some extra practice with his Iiu as he wanted to impress a certain h/c Na’vi. Just as he was about to call it a day the sound of arguing catches his attention as he races to shore. A specific voice stood out as he recognized it immediately which only pushed him to walk faster.

Lo’ak.

Neteyam stomps towards the group noting how Kiri stood to the side, her arms crossed over as if to cover herself. The group had circled Lo’ak, pulling and prodding at him. Neteyam rushes in, shoving Ao’nung off his brother with force. He creates distance between them and his siblings, his glare unwavering.

“You heard what she said-'' Neteyam growls, his eyes solely on Ao’nung who steps back. “-leave them alone”.

The commotion had gotten the attention of some Na’vi nearby, specifically a certain female Na’vi who rushed towards them in a hurry.

“Back off…..Now” Neteyam presses his finger against Ao’nnung’s chest, pushing him back. He ignores the attempt his friends takes as Ao’nung silenced him by raising his hand. He had a smug smirk on his lips but chose not to retaliate against Neteyam.

“Smart choice” Neteyam acknowledges. His ears twitched to the sound of hurried footsteps, turning to see Y/n, her face flush with color as she ran towards the group. She stops in front of them, her eyes darting between Ao’nung and Neteyam.

Neteyam glances back at his sister who looked to the ground in sadness. He felt his anger bubble inside of him as he turned back to the group. “And I need you to respect my sister” he adds, dismissing the hiss that is sent his way. He looks at Y/n who had an apologetic frown on her face. Netreyam nods at her, his lips forming in a thin line. He pulls Lo’ak with him so they could leave.

“Ao’nung, you skxawng!!” Y/n hisses, stopping the Sully’s who stare at her in surprise. Y/n was always collected, calm and kind. The venom that dripped from her tone alarmed them all. Ao’nung seemed like the only one unfazed.

“What will your father say! This is low, even for you.” she hisses, taking a step towards Ao’nung who scoffs at her words. He keeps his mouth shut, his eyes glancing at Lo’ak. He sends a mocking smile that seems to rile the younger Sully who pulls away from his brother's hold. Neteyam goes to pull him back but he's already walking back to the group.

“What would Rotxo think? Yaymak ‘evan!!” (Foolish boy) The girl hisses, her tail swishing behind her angrily, thumping against the sand. Her e/c eyes scan over the friends, her disappointment evident as she hisses in anger. Ao’nung huffs in annoyance, shrugging it off. He smirks wide as Lo’ak walks closer to them.

“So? Why would I care? That's what they are, isn't it? They’re freaks, the whole family”

What happened next no one present would ever believe, not in a million years. Y/n’s hand juts out landing a powerful punch square against Ao’nung’s jaw. A sickening crack is heard as her clenched fist collides with him. Ao’nung stumbles back, his eyes dazed as if he didnt know what had hit him. Y/n quickly follows it by landing a swift kick against his stomach sending him tumbling against his friends as they all fall against the sandy floor beneath them.

“Watch. Your. Mouth.” Y/n huffs out, her eyes burning with anger as she clenches her fist. The friends get up, snarling as they lunge after her. Lo’ak quickly joins in, landing a punch of his own on one of the male Na’vi who hisses at him. Y/n gets roughly tackled onto the floor but she is quick to recover as she flips Ao’nung over straddling his hips. He struggles under her as she punches him, holding one of his arms back not to land anything on her.

“Neteyam! Help them!” Kiri yells hysterically, turning to her brother.

Neteyam stood frozen in his spot, his eyes wide as he watched in pure amazement. All he could focus on was the drastic change he witnessed in Y/n. Someone he thought was too elegant, get violent. Violent to the point she punched Ao’nung and was able to take on the rest with ease. All to protect his family's honor.

Neteyam’s mouth hung low as shock washes over him, his eyes following how Y/n had now moved onto the other Na’vi. He drank in how she elegantly avoided getting hit but landing her own hits with brutal force. She looked fierce and strong. She reminded him of his mother, beautiful yet deadly. Words that his father had used to describe his mother ringing through his head as he finally understands its full meaning. Y/n was a complete-

“-Badass'' Neteyam whispers.

He finally understood what it meant, she was the definition of intimidating. Every hit was calculated and precise. That of a skilled fighter. Neteyam was in awe, and if he thought he couldn't grow to love her more, boy was he wrong.

It is only when Lo’ak screams in pain is he finally brought back to reality.

Neteyam quickly runs back to the group, pushing the Na’vi who tried to choke his brother. As he lands a kick on his stomach he slides right up against Y/n, who is smirking at him. The butterflies in his stomach increase at their close proximity. She looked utterly beautiful with her hair disarray, heavy breaths racking through her body.

It was at this moment Neteyam realized he had met his match, his perfect match.

“Show me what you got, Forest Boy”

__________________________________________

A/N: I'm sorry for the poorly written action scene. I cannot seem to make them descriptive enough! I'm sorry for that but I hope you guys enjoyed!

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its-the-allure · 5 days ago

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My year in review

Can't remember who tagged me, but thank you! I joined fandom in late 2023 and started writing just this year, so this is very resident for me. So grateful to be here, and so grateful to all the amazing folks I have collabed with, alpha/beta/cheergirled for and had A/B/C for me! It's the best. You are the best. ILY.

Hot Boy Summer

Explicit | 3.3k words

Art collab with @ree-dee-art, Gift for @edieblakee

Summary: A surprise visitor leads to more than Harry was expecting.

lost for you i am so lost

Explicit | 758 words

Gift for my first fandom bestie @phoenixortheflame, seven deadly sins challenge for DCC Monthly Microcreations

Summary: Harry didn’t sleep well, and often came to bed late. Draco never minded being woken like this.

Worshipping at the altar of Harry James Potter

Explicit | 2.4k words

Inspired by art by @itsphantasmagoria, Gift for Harry's birthday!

Summary: “You had mentioned you were interested in adding a little play,” Draco said to Harry. “I thought you might enjoy giving it a go today, to celebrate your birthday.”

Down and (nearly) out

Explicit | 6.6k words

Art collab with an anon friend, Gift for my bestie @kamaela

Summary: A story told over several evenings out, during which Harry Potter rapidly becomes obsessed with Draco Malfoy for a whole new reason. In his defense, everyone loves a crop top.

Eyeliner!Harry, Part 1 of The Eyeliner Chronicles

Explicit | 3.5k words

Art collab with @itsphantasmagoria, gift for my bestie @jelliewrites

Summary: Draco Malfoy returns to a mandatory eighth year at Hogwarts with a massive crush on Harry Potter. Harry has returned wearing eyeliner and black nail polish. Draco never thought he’d be into this look on a man, but has to admit, it’s working for Potter. It’s also working for Draco.

Magie Noire

Pansmione | Mature | 7.2k words

Art collab with an anon pal, Gift for @sleepstxtic

Summary: Pansy is checking email on her mobile when another witch gets into the lift. Their eyes meet, Pansy’s shock mirrored on the face of Hermione Granger. Pansy’s wand slips from her sleeve without a thought, and suddenly she’s gripping it tightly, her heart hammering. “Hello, Granger. What are you doing in Paris?” Or, the time Pansy and Hermione keep running into each other. Mischief follows.

[podfic] The Scariest Witch by sweaters_in_the_summer

Gen | 0-10 min

My first podfic! Collab with @sweatersinthesummer (who wrote!), get outside your comfort zone challenge for DCC Monthly Microcreations

Summary: Harry and Draco celebrate their first Halloween together with Harry’s babies.

Come As You Are

Explicit | 35k words

My first anon fest submission! For @hd-fan-fair. And my longest fic to date. Collab with the amazing and wonderful and supremely talented @itsphantasmagoria

Summary: When Harry Potter visits a sexy internet chatroom site, he does so with the hope of answering a niggling question: Am I interested in men? He finds more than he anticipated when he stumbles upon a free strip show starring a very familiar person. Just what is Draco Malfoy doing on a Muggle pay-per-view site? And when did he get so fucking fit?

[ART] HJP is the sun

A gift for the amazing peu_a_peu, for the HP Fuck You Fest

Summary: A truly terrible comic, made with the utmost love and respect. Inspired by peu_a_peu’s The Sun (chapter 4 of the legendary Crack This Thing Wide Open).

Cease and Desist

Explicit | 1.2k words

A gift for @saijordison, inspired by his art, for the HP Fuck You Fest

Summary: After the war Draco makes a fortune selling Potter fan merch, and Harry Potter wants to shut it down. He sends a cease-and-desist letter. What's Draco to do but show up to court wearing their bestselling "Future Mrs. Potter" jumper?

Little Black Dress, Part 2 of The Eyeliner Chronicles

Explicit | 4.9k words

Art collab with @itsphantasmagoria, Gift for @tessacrowley, for the @hd-tarot fest

Summary: Returning for a mandatory eighth year and secretly dating Harry Potter, Draco is a bit of a mess. Harry wants to go public with their relationship, but the last thing Draco needs is another reason for people to hate him. As they work on their Tarot assignment for Advanced Divination, could a change of heart be in the cards?

Oroboros

Mature | 558 words

Gift for @thisbloodycat, for the DCC Holiday Exchange

Summary: Through eight years at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy cannot keep his eyes off Harry Potter.

Leather Cheerio

Explicit | 2.2k words

Gift for @itsphantasmagoria, for HP Fuck You Fest

Summary: I hate writing summaries. Just fucking read it. 😈

Or, when Allure wrote crack smut for Phanta's birthday, using the worst words from the Lewd Vocabulary in Erotic Fiction survey results.

Sweet like candy to my soul

Explicit | 9.2k words

Gift for @mintyelbows, for @hp-soulmates-secret-santa

Summary: Harry and Draco are the only eighth year students who have stayed over at Hogwarts for the winter holidays. The first day of their break, Harry sends a note asking Draco to join him in his rooms. What could Harry want? A deeply pining Draco can’t wait to find out.

Tagging @kamaela @dodgerkedavra @itsphantasmagoria @sweatersinthesummer @cailynwrites @phoenixortheflame @jelliewrites @smehur @sleepstxtic @pl0tty @fastbrother @faiell @drwhoisginnyholmes @thusspoketrish and everyone else who sees this and wants to! Let's celebrate!!!

#drarry #fan fiction #drarry fanart #harry x draco #my writing #drarry art #hpdm

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gorgeouslypink · 1 year ago

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The Illusion of Method (My AP "Guide")

Hey guys! I'm so sorry that I've been behind on finishing up my masterlist but I've been really busy. I was having a conversation with my friend @junfairykyu and I remembered this post and she said it really helped her and urged me to share it with you guys too! This post is to help people AP (astral project) but the same concepts apply for the void. I hope this helps everyone.

original link: here

Hello there,

In this post I want to share an epiphany I had a few months ago regarding astral projection which changed my approach to it completely. Once I understood what I am about to explain, the amount of OBEs I had completely skyrocketed, to the point I can astral project on demand. I later found I could apply the same rule to lucid dreaming, and I started to enjoy countless conscious dreams. So this is the story of how I got to the "core aspect" of astral projection, the key to induce it effortlessly on demand. I will start by explaining the conditions whereby I came to this "truth" or "top method", and then I will develop it a bit more to ensure that its understandable. I I hope you guys enjoy the post and benefit from it. That being said, let's start!

I have been having OBEs for a few years now. A few years in which I tried many astral projection techniques, and while some of them seemed to work better than others, I always had one single desire that obsessed me to the core: I wanted to understand what was the root technique, i.e. that background cause, shared by all fruitful OBE strategies, that actually separated consciousness from the body. You know, the skeleton of all techniques. It was the deepest of my fixations, and I was compelled to find out the answer to that, I knew there was a core method, it was undeniable: if many different techniques lead to the same results, then there was for sure some hidden and shared dynamic that, if emulated over and over again, it would always produce Out of body experiences.

But it was really hard at first to understand what this hidden method was, because I was conditioned by my own results. What do I mean by this? Well, if only one technique worked for me, then it would be easy to assume "oh, that's the true and only method". But I had successful results with a wide variety of techniques, so different from each other: from tactile visualization, up to affirmations and pure desire, the ear ringing technique (using the ear buzzing sound to project) , the WBTB and many others. The challenge was in finding the single thing that united such different techniques. It seemed almost impossible!

You see, at first I thought imagination was a core aspect, but I rapidly discarded that, because many techniques dispensed with imagination. So then, imagination wasn't necessary. I kept discarding things just like that, trying to reach the substratum. I eventually thought it was pure intention, pure desire. This made sense to some extent, because all techniques required you to think actively about projection, whether you do this by imagining you project, or state it via affirmations, or whatever. It seemed like I succeeded with stripping away everything unnecessary. But then I had an spontaneous projection, which messed it all up. Not that it was the first spontaneous OBE in my life. In fact, I had a few of those during my career as an astral traveller. I was just ignoring them. Pretending that they were not there. Right when i thought astral projection had to do with a burning desire or intention, I realized that some OBEs dispensed with intention completely.

I was so obsessed with finding the key to astral projection in those OBEs I induced myself, that I was screening out those that happened involuntarily. I don't know why, but I guess it made more sense to find the how-to in the techniques rather than in...and then my mind went silent. I reached something important: a point of no-return. I realized something embarrassing: I had the answer in front of my eyes, but I kept pretending there was a hidden solution. But via spontaneous projections, the message was clear: it is not that those "spontaneous" projections weren't induced by me. NONE of my projections were induced by me! Its almost as if my unconscious was trying to tell me, via spontaneous projections, something like; "hey! its me who does it, not you".

At that point I understood the following: there is no method. We can't induce out-of-body experiences, nor lucid awareness in a dream. We don't really know how it is that the projection of consciousness occurs, or how lucidity pops up. We just get to experience it under certain conditions. All we do, really, is asking for projections to occur, while meeting the most optimal conditions for them to occur. That's the reason why spontaneous projections are kinda unconfortable for many and we try to screen them out, because they are trying to tell us about the illusion of method, and we as humans need to cling on a certain "how to", believing we are responsible for phenomena to occur. But we aren't. It is "something else" (the unconscious, the higher self, or whatever you want to call it) who kicks you out of your body, or triggers lucidity while dreaming. And when it occurs naturally, we try to understand how we did it, instead of realizing it isn't something we did, and thus opening ourselves to that same gift.

When I understood that, I began to do the following (the "no-method" method), and it ALWAYS works: I just lie down in the morning (to ensure that I don't fall asleep), close my eyes and simply ask this "unconscious" or whatever it is, to induce an OBE for me. And then I evoke this feeling of TRUST. I trust him, I trust that it will do the rest for me, because I understand that every time my consciousness escapes my body, it is this kind of higher consciousness or being who does it, not me. And this feeling of trust is the way to get rid of responsibility; in giving away this need for control and responsibility for the experience to occur, you also get rid of anxiety, fear and other emotions that boycott the outcome. So then, i just allow myself to drift with that feeling of peace, KNOWING that it will happen and I don't have to worry about it. Every time I do this, I get an amazing out of body experience. I just ask "the universe" to induce an OBE, and allow it to do its job. This same "method" (now you see why I refer to it as the illusion of method: you really don't do a thing) also applies to lucid dreaming: I just allow my higher self or unconscious mind or whatever to trigger lucid awareness for me, and go to sleep happily, knowing that it will happen.

To sum up, the answer is not in the techniques. All techniques are rituals we create to convince ourselves that we are the architects of the out of body experience, but we aren't. By acknowledging the one who DOES induce these kind of experiences, we get ourselves out of its way, we allow it to do its job and our emotions and feeling of responsibility no longer boycott the results. It is quite weird, even ironic to some extent, but it is also a relief in some way. You realize that you were never doing it wrong, because you can't do it. None of us have the supernatural power to separate consciousnesses from their bodies, its absurd. That being said, allow yourself to experience the OBE state, trusting your inner mind, knowing it will do this for you.

Exempt yourself from this responsibility and enjoy!

UPDATE: If you enjoyed the approach given in this post or found it useful, I am excited to announce that I just released an AP book on Amazon called "The Illusion of Method", which is an in-depth expansion of this guide: https://www.reddit.com/r/AstralProjection/comments/pc3ipt/my_ap_book_the_illusion_of_method_is_available_on/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share

#void state

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oops-all-concrete · 1 year ago

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Hello lovelies! I have written more fluffy headcanons for you, this time in the form of;

Romanced Companions comfort Tav, who's in shocked after having to be revivified.

Essentially they're kinda shook/out of it, like, the other companions come back and tell the romanced companions "Yeah, they have been out of it since they got up. Idk what to tell you" (If it makes anymore sense, it could even be Tavs first reviving)

Prepare for fluff, hurt/comfort, lots of hugs, lots of sweetness. Essentially, all your Tavs are getting the princess treatment they deserve!

(ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE ON MY LAST HEADCANONS POST OH MY GOD?? 400+ NOTES IS INSANE)

Lae'zel -

Once informed Lae'zel becomes weary. Something must be wrong, Tav is never so- elsewhere. She goes out of her way go ask Halsin for antidotes, ask Shadowheart to remove curse, but upon going to ask Astarion if he can smell blight in their blood, he suggests dying and being brought back in any way can be challenging. "We're not made to come back." Now, comfort isn't her strong suit- but Gods she was desperate to aid them. She brings carefully decorated food (like a fun charcuterie board Gale helped with) over and helps them out of armour, massaging their tired muscles and feeding them by hand. She doesn't cuddle, but she stays all night, pressed as close as possible. For protection, of course. (The rest of the companions get a private earful about keeping them safe. She knows they're scared of her and will exploit it)

Shadowheart -

She gets a strange feeling before the group even returns- something in her feels off. So when she sees everyone back in one piece, she's relieved- until she isn't. Karlach tells her immediately, seeing her worry. "Only been revived in the last hour. Been real quiet too" Shadowheart can't stand her lover being so lost in their own eyes. Shadowheart gets an idea- and invited Tav to help her cook for the camp, but sulks at their mindless nod. She's not deterred- she holds up every ingredient to Tavs nose, gets them involved with simple tasks and gets them to taste test. Everything to get their senses wired until they come back to her. The minute she sees a smile on their lips again, she's kissing them too. "Thanks for coming back...would have been boring without you" She smiles into every kiss. (The food might be burning, but who cares?)

Wyll -

Wyll always greets Tav when they come back, happy to see them alive, but he can tell something is wrong immediately. "Tav is still adjusting to being alive again, I think. I don't know if they can talk right now" Shadowheart says. Wyll approaches Tav slowly, taking their face in his hands and gently kissing their forehead. "Hi love." He smiles. "Can I take you back to my tent? I'd love to get you into a bath, if that's okay?" He asks, trying not sound certain. Tav gets a small nod out, but Wyll asks again several times until Tav is in the bath, Wylls hands on their scalp, gently washing their hair and body of blood. He tells them about his day, a story he was telling Karlach- how glad he is to see them alive. Because they are alive. And Tav clearly needed to hear it. The reminder makes them human once again, settling into the warm water. He wordlessly, but diligently cleans them, head to toe, the odd kiss to their brow here and there.

Karlach -

When Karlach peers out of her tent and sees Lae'zel, Astarion and Wyll back, she frowns, not seeing Tav right away. She finds Tav with Gale, unsure what to do with them, and explains what Lae'zel told him. "Awful knock to the head. Went straight down, not even a yell" He frowns. Karlach wants nothing more than to throw her arms around them, but she gets a better idea, taking Tav to the lakeside and brings them for a swim. Wyll and Shadowheart advise against it, but Karlach persists. She strips them both and gently pulls Tav over herself to drift. They react immediately to the water but still and calm, clinging to her as they float. "It's alright soldier, you're off duty now. I've got you" She says, thumbing some of the dried mud off their face with a patient smile.

Gale -

Gale's a mess. I mean, specifically now. Tav looks like they're seeing the sun for the first time, and needs to be told not to stare. He gets them sat down and tries to comfort with words, but it all comes out as "Ah, needn't worry, you've got one of Waterdeeps finest, and I didn't fall asleep during all my herbalism and medical weave classes. I'm sure I have something- I know I have something-" And he sits beside you and reads in his tent, leaning Tav against his shoulder to keep them awake. He ruins his hair keeping it out of his eyes, throws off his bracers to avoid catching pages- and it takes him a moment to realise- Tav is asleep on him. He has bored them to sleep. Tav is drooling. And Gale is relieved. They look like themself again, pressing their face into his arm. The breakfast they're greeted with is almost worth dying, trust me.

Astarion -

Aatarion knows immediately, he doesn't have to be told. He knows that look and all the horrors behind it, not letting anybody get in his way as he got to Tav. But- well he doesn't know what to do, really, nobody did the right thing when Astarion had been "revived" so he didn't know what it looked like. But he had an idea. He slowly walks them to sit in his tent, strips their armour and asks them to wait. He's back 2 minutes later with a washcloth and water bowl in hand, and mid-way through washing Tavs face, Wyll brings some bread, fruit and orange juice. Astarion smiles and makes the odd "You must be famished" between pressing grapes to their lips. "I can see you've been doing your bloody best, as usual" he complements dabbing their cheeks. "You did wonderful today, darling" he praises. "...There's my Tav" He smiles like he's come home, looking at their now clean face.

Hope you all enjoyed, if you have any prompts/requests, let me know in the notes/in my asks! ♡

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angelswing236 · 3 months ago

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"Let's try this."

Fictober 24 challenge

Fandom: Downton Abbey

Fanfiction

‘Nanny Archer, you said there’s a problem with Master George,’ Thomas said, trying to keep his worry under control. The maid the nanny had sent to find him hadn’t been able to fill in any of the blanks.

‘Oh, Mr Barrow, thank goodness. I didn’t want to send for Lady Mary or Mr Branson. Not without trying everything first. You were the only person I could think of who might be able to help,’ the nanny said, clearly more exasperated than worried.

‘Help with what?’ Thomas scanned the room anxiously seeing no sign of the boy. ‘Where is Master George?’

‘He’s under his bed.’

Thomas did a double take, not quite sure he’d heard her right. ‘Under his bed?’

‘The little scamp won’t come out,’ Nanny Archer said, irritably. ‘I’ve tried everything I can think of, but he simply refuses to budge. He hasn’t even come out for his lunch.’

‘Do you know why he’s under there?’ Thomas asked, pursing his lips.

‘I've no idea.’

‘Right. Let��s try this,’ Thomas said, swiping the apple sitting on the table with Master George’s untouched lunch.

Wandering over to the child’s bed, he slid down the wall to sit on the floor. He pulled his penknife from his pocket and began to peel the apple.

‘Hello, Master George. It’s Barrow,’ he said, concentrating on peeling the skin in one long, curly strip.

There was silence for a moment and then a small voice replied, ‘Hello, Barrow.’

‘How are things? Nanny says you’ve been under that bed for a while. Are you quite comfy there?’

‘No. It’s made me sneeze a bit.’

‘Dusty, is it? I’ll have to tell Mrs Hughes to tell the maids to give it a good, old clean. A man can’t have a dusty den, can he?’

There was silence again, so Thomas finished peeling the apple, coiling the long strip onto the floor beside him.

‘You’ve missed lunch. You must be hungry. Would you like to share my apple?’

‘Yes, please.’

Thomas sliced off a piece of apple and held it out towards the bed. A little hand snaked out from underneath it and took the slice, disappearing back into the dark.

Slicing another piece, Thomas popped it into his mouth. ‘Oh, that’s a nice apple, isn’t it? Nice and juicy. I like them like that, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Would you like another slice?’

‘Yes, please.’

Thomas held out a second slice, pleased to see the little hand flash out and take it again.

‘Now, I’m all for a man having his own private space where he can think about things, Master George, but if you don’t mind me asking, what made you retreat to your den?’

For a moment, the boy said nothing, and Thomas began to wonder if he’d overplayed his hand. Resisting the urge to fill the silence, he cut another piece of apple and held it out.

George took the slice and then said in a quiet voice, ‘Donk said Isis has gone to heaven, so I won’t ever see her again.’

Thomas pressed his lips together. Now they were getting to the heart of it. ‘Yes, that’s right. She has gone to heaven.’

‘Why? Why couldn’t she stay here?’

‘She was very poorly, Master George. I expect she didn’t want to leave you, but sometimes it can’t be helped.’

Silence reigned again and Thomas held out another slice of apple. George took it and munched it before speaking again.

‘Mummy says Daddy is in heaven.’

Thomas paused for a moment in slicing the apple, his heart going out to the boy. ‘Yes, he is.’

‘And Sybbie’s mummy is in heaven, too.’

Sorrow twisted in Thomas’ gut for a moment. ‘Yes, Lady Sybil is there, too.’

‘So, they’re all there together?’

‘Yes. I expect your daddy and your Auntie Sybil are taking Isis for a good, long walk, just the kind she likes.’

‘But if they’re all there together, can’t we go and visit them?’ the child asked, plaintively. ‘Like we go and visit Granny Isobel?’

Thomas thought for a moment, slowly cutting another slice of apple and handing it over.

‘You can’t visit them, Master George. Heaven is a lovely place, but you can only go there once and then when you get there, you can’t come back.’

‘Why not? Aren’t there any cars in heaven?’

‘No, there aren’t.’

‘That’s why I’ve never met my daddy? Because I wouldn’t be able to come back home?’

‘Yes,’ Thomas said, gently.

‘I don’t think I’d like not being able to come home.’

‘No.’

‘Is anybody else going to go to heaven, Barrow?’

‘We’ll all go at some point, Master George, but not for a long while, I hope,’ Thomas replied, hoping that would be enough for the boy.

‘Hmm.’

All was quiet as George considered that.

‘May I have another slice of apple, please, Barrow?’

‘Of course, you can. Although, between us, Mrs Patmore has an apple cake downstairs that’s even tastier. That’s if you’re ready to come out of your den.’

‘Apple cake?’

‘It looks delicious.’

George scrambled out from underneath the bed, blinking in the light. ‘Do you think she’ll let me have a slice?’

‘I think if I have a word with her, she will.’

The child grinned as Thomas stood up.

‘Master George and I are going to the kitchen on important business, Nanny,’ Thomas announced, the boy’s hand tucked in his.

#fictober24 #thomas barrow #george crawley #fanfiction

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live-laugh-lenney · 1 year ago

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interruption | arthurtv

hello!

not very good as following a routine or any kind of schedule so the posting of my writing will be rather sporadic... i do apologise but bear with me on that.

here's one that i've been working on for a couple of weeks, from a request that was sent in to my inbox, so i hope that whoever did ask me to write this enjoys it. let me know what you think and don't hesitate to send in your feedback or send in any ideas that you want me to write.

thank you! love to you all!

enjoy. x

Cosy.

That’s how she would describe Arthur’s flat.

Cosy and very him.

All open plan, with his kitchen melding with his living room mixing with his dining room, but so warm and inviting. A knitted throw-blanket folded and draped over the back of his sofa, that he always said was for show but he never scolded YN when she unravelled the fabric and threw it over her legs when she was curled up beside him, or took it to his bedroom when the nights were too cold for just a duvet and his radiating body heat. Books, labelled from fictional titles to nonfiction titles and autobiographies through to encyclopaedias sat on shelves attached the the walls of his living room, with photo frames of him and his family and wax burners filling in the gaps that melted scents of cinnamon and spiced orange, succulents draped down and in witty plant pots that his friends would buy him for Christmas. Lamps in every corner of his main living space because he felt that the main lighting was much too bright, especially for evenings spent at home with a good book that he’d brought from the bookstore on his outing into the city centre, or too bright for an evening spent at home watching a television show he’d been recommended to watch by one of his friends.

Where her flat was more in the centre of London, closer to where she worked in an independent coffee house which definitely challenged the Starbucks and Costa’s that were close-by, she became used to the sounds of passing cars and honking taxis and the distant sound of the overground squeaking on the rails as it approached its destination. The hustle and bustle of tourists passing by the entrance to her flat complex, shops on her doorstep, in an area that was full of high-rise buildings and overlooked a park that she spent many of the summery days sat in, with a picnic from Waitrose and a good book and with Arthur, enjoying the time together. So being in the part of London that almost instantaneously switches off in the middle of the evening, once everyone had travelled home and everything had shut up shop for the night, felt almost peaceful to her.

She much preferred his living space to her own…but she was sure that it was the feeling of being in the same vicinity as him that warmed her more than being in the flat itself.

On the evenings he would film with Alex and George and Cam, for a Chaos Crew video that seemed to be in high demand, she found herself dillying around his home and finding things to do until he was finished for the night. If it wasn’t cooking them both a dinner to eat once he was done, it was reading something from his ever growing collection of novels; and if she wasn’t reading a book, she was logging into his Netflix and watching a film to pass the time and, if she’d had a busy day and felt her eyelids sitting heaving, she would curl up and take a nap on the sofa until she was woken up with a soft kiss to the forehead or a gentle nudge into her thigh to wake her up.

But there was something about that evening where she just wanted to be near him.

They’d both, surprisingly, had days off that coincided with each other so they spent the day together and they came rarely and not very often - taking it in their stride and making the most of getting to spend quality time together.They went shopping down the strip together and spoilt the other whenever they saw them looking at something for a little longer than normal, they popped into her coffee house for a cream cake and a coffee and to say hello to her friends who were working that day, they went food shopping because his fridge was a little scarce when it came to ingredients for a dinner that was substantial and they shared a late dinner together where they sat at the dining table with a candle and some fizzy apple juice to impersonate wine because neither of them fancied a drink that night. But she knew their time together was inevitable and she couldn’t help but look at the clock as she counted the minutes down till he said he needed to film a new video - and she couldn’t complain because, well, she had spent the last twelve hours with him.

But, twelve hours just didn’t feel like enough.

She hated using the word clingy when it came to her relationship with Arthur but… she felt clingy.

Across the space of his living room, she swerved the sofa and dodged his furniture and tucked the blanket a bit tighter over her shoulders as the gentle breeze of her movements blew it from the bare skin showing for her t-shirt - well, not her t-shirt but Arthur’s t-shirt, yet she claimed it as her own and he couldn’t say no to her when he thought she looked beautiful in his clothing - and she made her way down his hallway to. Goosebumps on her legs as she left the warmth of the sofa but they soon disappeared as she got closer to his office door, accustomed to the chill in the air.

“You know when this guy is telling him to tone it down that he needs to take it down a level,” she heard Arthur remark, a gentle snicker following in suit.

“Uh, yeah, looking a little bit like a geek there… might want to tone it down,” George’s laugh came next, followed by a chorus of cackles and snickers from the other guys sat on the Discord video call.

“He’s got a fourth badge that’s just homophobic,” her boyfriend retorted back and at that, she rolled her eyes and an unsure smile on her lips because of the emphasis on the last word of his sentence.

She could hear that whatever they were watching on Youtube had been unpaused, ready to carry on before they took another break to add commentary content to the video, and her hand halted over the door handle to his office. Shuffling on her bare feet, the wooden floor of his hallway was cold beneath the pads of her toes, and she just couldn’t figure out the right time to poke her head into his room and ask him just how long he was going to be. She didn’t want to be a bother but the longing-for-him feeling, that sat low in her belly, was becoming a bother to her.

“It is kind of cute. I actually do kind of rate it, like being your own superhero and that… but it is the kind of thing you grow out of when you’re like six,” Arthur stated.

“Yeah, you’ve got to go as something recognisable surely, right?” Alex questioned and there were some gentle hums of agreement throughout that she probably would have joined in with if they were all sat in a room together and discussing that specific topic, “if you’re gonna go as anything at all.”

“What did you go as to Comic Con?” Arthur wondered, asking the question that everyone was thinking; “I went as Obi Wan Kenobi,” came Alex’s response and he was instantly met with silence. YN could just imagine the smirks and the grins and the laughter that were almost bursting to come to light from the three guys sat there, taking in everything they’d heard.

And YN took the chance.

The door handle squeaked as she applied pressure and the door creaked as she opened it, poking her head into the room, met with the sage green wallpaper of his office and the dim lighting filling the space that he used as background lighting - because he still found his main light to be too bright when filming his Youtube videos. He turned in his seat and let his eyes adjust, smiling upon her arrival once he saw her full figure standing in the doorway, the screen illuminating the side of his face and he slipped his headphones from on top of his head and down to his neck.

“You okay, lovie?”

“Just wanted to know how long you were going to be,” she hummed softly, almost too quiet, but she didn’t want to interfere with their recording because then he’d have been there even longer than planned, “I was gonna have a nap on the sofa but I won’t if you’re not gonna be too long.”

“I won’t be long, no,” he said, “there’s not long left of this video. Give me twenty minutes?”

“I’ll wait up for you,” she smiled, “mind if I just sit in here and watch? Promise I won’t make any sounds. I’m a bit bored out there on my own.”

Arthur smiled warmly at her, letting his eyes wander up and down her body as he took in her comfy appearance, holding up his pointer finger as he turned back to face his monitors and slid his headphones back up his head, setting them back on his ears.

“Guys, YN’s here.”

She could hear the muffled cheers through his headphones from his announcement and she grinned shyly, tightening the blanket around her shoulders, and she closed the bedroom door behind her before shuffling across the carpet. He gave his thighs a pat, inviting her to come and sit with him for a brief few minutes, and she quietly took him up on that offer as she blushed and nodded. He situated himself a bit more comfortably in his chair, unplugging his headphones so she could hear what was happening and moving any lingering wires so she could settle herself down on his lap without pulling any screens off of his desk. Curling up under his arm and bringing her knees to her chest, covering herself with the blanket draped over her shoulders, releasing a content sigh. She wasn’t bothered by her appearance on the screen because she knew he wouldn’t include any of what was happening, without her permission, in the final cut on Youtube.

“How have you been, YN?”

“I’ve been good, yeah. Ready for a sleep but you guys just had to come first tonight,” she smirked, feeling Arthur’s hand tuck beneath the t-shirt hanging down her frame, his fingers tickling up her side in a relaxing and comforting manner, “I feel I haven’t seen you guys for weeks.”

“You haven’t actually,” George remarked with a hint of feigned annoyance, a similar smirk sitting on his mouth, “spending all your time with Arthur now, aren’t you? Taking him away from us. We’ll have to fight for custody.”

She rolled her eyes with a grin and dropped her head into the curve of Arthur’s neck and his jawline, inhaling softly and breathing in the faint scent of cologne still left on his clothing, his arms tightening around her.

He was warm.

So warm.

His hands wouldn’t leave her skin. His arm stayed tight to her waist and his fingers traced soft circles into her hip, just above the waistband of the knickers that dug into her skin, and his free hand kept in its place upon her knee and he gave her a squeeze every so often.

“I’m letting you have him this weekend,” she hummed, “Platform Roulette, no?”

“I only get him when he’s drunk and annoying,” George frowned playfully, “you get him when he’s all cute and soppy. One can only dream of that interaction, used to have it all the time.”

“YN’s cute and soppy also so they’re practically a match made in heaven,” Cam cackled and YN felt the heat creep up her neck and settle across the expanse of her cheeks, “look at you guys, it’s just adorable and it makes me feel sick.”

“Cam, oh my god,” Arthur laughed, “you guys suck.”

“We love you both really,” Alex smiled, “you know we do.”

honestly, ending a story just isn't my forte... i just hate every ending i write.

anyway!

if you got this far then thank you for reading. means a lot to me that you've reached the end. please let me know what you think and don’t hesitate to send me any ideas you may have for future fics. my ask box is always open so don’t hesitate to send anything in.

lots of love to you guys! thank you! xx

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