#i don't see a positive and i feel like its all my fault

[blye-flower]

.

[desertdragon]

Semi Abt last post but I do think it's funny now that the first expac without all the history built up over the last decade from the other expansions since that plot ended in EW, the general reaction to DT story is people finally realizing these mfs can't write a cohesive campaign that isn't (95%) stale bread and empty platitudes

[taliabhattwrites]

I don't think there is a significant or notable number of people who believe transmascs are not oppressed.

I feel slightly insane just having to type this out, but this is rhetoric you inevitably come across if you discuss transfeminism on Tumblr.

The mainstream, cissexist understanding of transmasculine people is the Irreversible Damage narrative (one that's old enough to show up in Transsexual Empire as well) of transmascs as "misguided little girls", "tricked" into "mutilating themselves". It is a deliberately emasculating and transphobic narrative that very explicitly centers on oppression, even if the fevered imaginings misattribute the cause. As anyone who's dealt with the gatekeeping medical establishment knows, they are far from giving away HRT or even consults with both hands, and most transfems I know have a hard enough time convincing people to take DIY T advice, leave alone "tricking" anyone into top surgery.

Arguably, the misogyny that transmasculine folks experience is the defining narrative surrounding their existence, as transmasculinity is frequently and erroneously attributed to "tomboyish women" who resent their position in the patriarchy so much they seek to transition out of it. This rhetoric is an invisiblization of transmasculinity, constructed deliberately to preserve gendered verticality, for if it were possible to "gain status" under the sexed regime, its entire basis, its ideological naturalization, would fall apart.

Honestly, the actual discussions I see are centered around whether "transmisogyny" is a term that should apply to transmascs and transfems alike. While I understand the impetus for that discussion, I feel like the assertion that transmisogyny is a specific oppression that transfems experience for our perceived abandonment of the "male sex" is often conflated with the incorrect idea that we believe transmasculine people are not oppressed at all. This is not true, and we understand, rather acutely, that our society is entirely organized around reproductive exploitation. That is, in fact, the source of transfeminine disposability!

I know I'm someone who "just got here" and there is a history here that I'm not a part of, but so much of that history is speckled with hearsay and fabrication that I can't even attempt to make sense of it. All I know is that I, in 2024, have been called a revived medieval slur for effeminate men by people who attribute certain beliefs to me based on my being a trans woman who is also a feminist, and I simply do not hold those views, nor do I know anyone who sincerely does.

If you're going to attempt to discredit a transfeminist, or transfeminism in general, then please at least do us the courtesy of responding to things we actually say and have actually argued instead of ascribing to us phantom ideologies in a frankly conspiratorial fashion. I also implore people to pay attention to how transphobic rhetoric operates out in the wider world, how actual reactionaries talk about and think of trans people, instead of fixating so hard on internecine social media clique drama that one enters an alternate reality--a phantasm, as Judith Butler would put it.

Speaking of which--do y'all have any idea how overrepresented transmascs are in trans studies and queer theory? Can we like, stop and reckon with reality-as-it-is, instead of hallucinating a transfeminine hegemony where it doesn't exist? I'm aware a lot of their output isn't particularly explicative on the material realities of transmasculine oppression despite their prominence in the academy, but that is ... not the fault of trans women, who face extremely harsh epistemic injustice even in trans studies.

The actual issue is how invisiblized transmasculine oppression is and how the epistemicide that transmasculine people face manifests as a refusal to differentiate between the misogyny all women face, reproductive exploitation in particular, and the contours of violence, erasure, and oppression directed at specifically transmasculine people.

You will notice that is a society-wide problem, motivated by a desire to erase the possibilities of transmasculinity, to the point of not even being willing to name it. You will notice that I am quite familiar with how this works, and how it's completely compatible with a materialist transfeminist framework that analyzes how our oppression is--while distinct--interlinked and stems from the same root.

I sincerely hope that whoever needs to see this post sees it, and that something productive--more productive dialogue, at least--can arise from it.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

reunion

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: Slow burn; unrequited love; angst; yearning; divorced Art Donaldson; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; safe sex

Summary: It wasn't that Art Donaldson was the one that got away. It was more like Art Donaldson was the one that never really knew you existed.

"Did you hear Art Donaldson is supposed to be here?"

The question is whispered behind you and makes your hand freeze in its signing. You're half-bent over the table at reception, fingers tight around a pen as your mind is jogged.

No way was he turning up, that's what Anne had said.

Tashi will be there, she's the head of the goddamn reunion committee, the ink is still wet on their divorce—that's what Anne had said. Hell, she'd sworn it.

So what the hell is he doing here?

The sound of your name jogs your attention and you manage to finish signing in. You straighten, taking up your name tag and haphazardly slapping the adhesive onto your top. You need a drink, and quickly. You're halfway to the bar before you feel someone wind their arm through yours.

"Okay, I know you didn't wanna come—"

"Anne."

"And I so appreciate you being here so that I didn't have to come alone—"

"Anne—"

"But I got some news and it's going to be a little shocking so I think you should hear it from me—"

"I know he's here."

"What?" Anne freezes, her arm dropping from yours. You turn to see her looking stricken, her cheeks pinking with panic and embarrassment. You sigh softly, glancing around your fellow alumni. Less than half of them look familiar; your eyes catch on the odd face before you realize that you're inadvertently looking for him.

"Look, there are, like...Five hundred people here, alright?" You add. "I probably won't even see him."

"We can go."

"Look, we made the trip, we're here, we may as well stay. It's fine, okay? We're all adults here! It doesn't matter!" Your insistence is chased by a slightly hysterical laugh. "It was, like, a hundred years ago."

"...You're sure?"

"I am positive."

Positive that you need a drink, and positive that you're going to regret agreeing to stay.

--

It wasn't that Art Donaldson was the one that got away. It was more like Art Donaldson was the one that never really knew you existed.

You were friends, sure. You palled around, had a few classes together, hung out at a few parties—but he was so in love with Tashi Duncan that you'd never made his romantic radar. You'd forced yourself to believe that that was for the best, that you didn't need his love or romantic validation to be happy. But you couldn't pretend that wanting him didn't sting.

He'd had a couple of girlfriends while you were at Stanford, but you could always feel, always see that they were never really his priority. It was Tashi, then tennis, then them.

The two of you had kept touch a little after college, but you'd pushed yourself to move on. Conversation had begun to fade, and when he hadn't tried to keep it up, you had resolved to let him go.

You'd avoided his name in the news as much as you can, but it had been hard. He was on billboards, packaging, tv—it was like you couldn't escape him.

Want melted to sadness; sadness shifted to annoyance; annoyance hardened into disdain. You couldn't see his likeness or hear his name without rolling your eyes. It wasn't his fault, of course, but the prospect of running into Art fuckin' Donaldson made you queasy.

Still, you put on a brave face for Anne, forcing your focus into conversation.

It's a struggle to keep your gaze from seeking him out. You take each sip with a little white lie, convincing yourself that you're looking to make sure you can avoid contact. You spot Tashi a couple of times, but you don't go out of your way to say hello. She's surrounded by a cloud of people—taking pictures, signing programs and name tags and old Duncanator shirts.

When Anne insists on going to say hello, you force a small smile.

"You, um—you go ahead," You nod, taking a couple of steps back. "I'm gonna get some air."

Anne's dark eyes flit over you questioningly before she blessedly lets it go, nodding and going on her way. You turn, swiping a fresh drink off of a passing waiter's tray as you leave.

It takes a few moments for the buzz of conversation to clear from your head. You take a gulp of the prosecco, wrinkling your nose. It's a little sweeter than you usually like, and doesn't mingle well with the three other drinks that you've downed. Tashi's not going to find your lack of presence or greeting conspicuous; you'd been cordial and on speaking terms in college, but the two of you had never been close.

Damn, but it's chillier outside than you thought it would be. The reception had been so warm, so crammed with people. Paired your head being near-permanently on a swivel, you hadn't realize how hot and tense you'd been.

You frown at the waft of cigarette smoke that catches your nose. Who the hell is still smoking in this day and age—

"Are you hiding, too?"

Maybe you can feign that you didn't hear him—that the sound of his voice didn't jog a hundred memories and trigger a flurry of butterflies. But before you can stop yourself, you turn, the words, "I thought you quit smoking," tumbling out of your mouth.

Art's smile widens as he draw the cigarette back from his lips, a stream of smoke pushed out of the side of his mouth.

"I did. Quit quitting, though." He takes one more puff before he flicks it away, drifting closer. "Hi."

Hi, like it's not the first time you've seen him in the better part of a decade. Hi, like neither of you are oceans from where you where when you last saw one another.

"Hi," You manage. He doesn't hesitate to draw you into his arms; he seems to almost do it without thinking. You only allow yourself a moment of resistance before you raise and curl your arms around him. The clean scent of his pressed jacket and woodsy cologne are muddled with smoke. The fingers of one if your hands curls covetously in the fabric of his jacket as his palms smooth gently over your back. You hear him draw in a deep breath, feel him hold it, and then release it with a soft hum.

"How the hell are you?"

Probably better than you are these days.

You shrug a little, mumbling, "Fine."

He draws away, eyes skating across your face.

"You don't sound so sure about that."

"I'm sure."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

You can feel him winding up for another pass at it, but you hold your glass out before he can. His fingers brush against yours as he drains it.

"Why are you hiding?" You ask. He shrugs, nods toward the door.

"It's a lot in there. I forgot what these events are like."

"People wanna congratulate you. They're proud."

"Are you?"

"I am, but I'll hold off. Don't wanna crowd you."

Your attention is drawn from Art's smile as you hear someone clearing their throat over the speaker system inside:

"If we could have the reunion chairpersons to the stage, please!"

You glance toward Art and find him fidgeting, his thumb smoothing across his bare ring finger.

"…Do you wanna go back in?" You offer. He considers before he says, "Wait here."

You watch curiously as he darts inside, and are stunned when he reappears a moment later. You just barely catch a glimpse of the bottle of champagne clenched in his fist before he rests his other hand on your lower back, steering you away with an urgent murmur of, "C'mon."

--

"I'm surprised you came," You tell him. Art doesn't look at you for a moment, and you take the chance to lean back against the hard plastic seat. He's as beautiful as he was the last time the two of you were together, the night before graduation—practically in the same seats. You don't know if he was thinking about that when he'd led the way into the stands, chosen where to sit. Maybe it was pure muscle-memory.

Either way, you don't know how long the two of you have been sitting out there, knees bumping, passing the bottle back and forth. You take in his profile—the slope of his nose and cut of his jaw; the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows.

"My therapist said it would be good," He finally admits. "Told me I needed to get out more, start getting back into events, work at the foundation...What about you, huh?" He turns, brows raising. "You always told me that you hated this stuff."

You're surprised he remembers.

"I do hate this stuff, but," You shrug. "Anne didn't want to come alone."

"You're a good friend. I never forgot that." He sits up and passes the bottle back to you. "What happened to us, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did we stop talking?"

I couldn't keep begging for scraps of attention.

"I don't know," You deflect. "Guess we just lost touch. It happens."

"I shouldn't have let it happen to us."

You look down at the bottle, sweeping your finger across a slipping drop of condensation.

"You were busy."

"You weren't?"

"Not in the same way," You laugh self-consciously.

"What were you busy with then, huh?" He shifts, thigh pressing against yours. "You used to always say you'd uh—burn out by twenty-six."

"Yeah."

"Did you?"

"Oh, it didn't take nearly that long."

"What!" He laughs. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know what to tell you, man. A girl can only take a soul-sucking marketing job for so long."

"So what do you do now?"

"Still in marketing, but I'm a manager, so. Still soul-sucking, but making a little more money."

"You like it?"

"God no, but I don't know what else I would do." You pass the bottle back.

"Could find something for you at the foundation."

You wrinkle your nose, shaking your head as Art sputters a laugh, asks, "What?"

"Don't do that, Art."

"Don't do what?"

"I don't need, you know—"

"We could use you—"

"You don't even know what I do at work."

"I bet it's great—"

"You don't even know if I'm a good worker—"

"Sure I do, I know you."

"No, you don't!"

You know it's a mistake the second it leaves your mouth. Art's smile wavers as he leans away again.

"I just mean—" You try.

"I know what you mean. It's been a long time."

"...Yeah, it has." You take the bottle back, drawing deeply from it before passing it back. "I should get going. I'm sure Anne's looking for me."

"Sure."

You don't say goodbye or tell him that it was nice to see him. You just make as hasty a retreat as you can without tripping over your feet.

--

@ a_donaldsonofficial requested to follow you. 3h

You're not sure what surprises you more—the follow request or the message in your DMs: Dinner?

--

His groan is sinful and low, and makes you rethink ever losing contact with the guy. Under the warm glow of the diner's lights, his eyes slip shut, fingers tightening around the bun.

"...When's the last time you had a burger?" You finally manage to ask.

"I can't remember." He admits it through the mouthful, and you don't begrudge him the couple of flecks of food that land on the table. You smile, plucking up a couple of fries.

"Art?"

"Mm."

"Why'd you ask me to dinner?"

Art sets the burger down as he swallows, taking off his napkin to clean off his hands.

"I was thinking...About what you said at the reunion."

"Mhm."

"About me not knowing you. You're right. But you know what?" He presses on before you can process your surprise. "I don't think you know me, either."

You think for a moment, brows furrowing. He's right. You know the image of Art Donaldson that's been projected to you over the years—on tv screens, in magazines, in online clips.

"...I don't think I do," You agree.

"Figured we should fix that. Catch up, fill each other in on what we've missed."

"Okay."

"So, after college..." He trails off, waving his hand. "Fill me in."

"Moved to New York."

"Uh-huh."

"Working in marketing."

"Burned out before 26—"

"Yeah, hit my capitalistic peak at 23."

"That fast?"

"I mean, that's the last time I remember giving a shit about work, so. Yeah."

"Relationships?"

"...A couple," You admit.

"Serious?"

"Yeah. One."

"Married?"

"No. Engaged." His eyes drop to your bare left hand, and you hurriedly tuck it into your lap. "Formerly engaged."

"What happened?"

"It just didn't feel right. I don't think either of us were ready."

"...Was it anyone I knew? I don't remember you dating much at school."

"Guess I didn't."

"You weren't shy."

"Well no, but—"

"So what was it?"

"I had the worst crush on you, dude!" It's another mistake, but where the last one seemed to make Art retreat, this one leaves his gobsmacked. His eyes widen, mouth opening in a wide smile.

"You what?"

"Oh, kay, you know what—"

"I had no idea!"

"I was very subtle."

Art leans back in the diner booth, watching you openly. You can see the gears turning in his head, and you wonder what he may be remembering, holding up and twisting about in this new light.

"...Huh," He mutters.

"You can feel free to forget that at any time."

"I don't think I will...I wish I'd known."

You consider for a moment before you shrug. "I don't know. I'm kinda glad that you didn't."

"Really?" His brows knit with confusion. "Why?"

"I don't like coming second, Art."

Art nods slowly, and you see something tight pass across his face before it's smoothed away again.

"You know what?" He smiles bitterly. "Neither do I."

You nod toward his plate.

"Your burger's getting cold."

--

"So, uh..." Art clears his throat as the two of you take slow, drifting steps to your car. "I'm gonna say two things, and I don't want you to think that they've got anything to do with what you said earlier."

You know exactly what he means, but you just grumble, "I said a lot of things earlier."

"I think we both know which one I'm talking about."

"Uh-huh. So what's up?"

"...I wanna see you again."

"Okay."

"But things are a little...Messy right now. Tashi and I are working on getting Lily into a regular rhythm and it's harder than we thought it would be."

You lean back against your car, tucking your hands into your pockets.

"Mhm...I hesitate to ask."

"Yeah."

"How does this have to do with what I said earlier?"

"I just don't want you to think that this is—"

"A consolation prize?"

"Something like that."

"Whatever you need to do to get in a good place with Lily is fine, Art, you don't need to justify that to me."

"Even if it means you come second?"

You tip your head to the side, pursing your lips. "It's different when it's your kid. I meant that I didn't want to be second to—You know."

"...Yeah," He mutters, looking at his feet as he takes another foot forward. "And for the record, I was thinking of asking you out again by the time we sat down."

"You could've changed your mind."

"I didn't. And I don't want to."

You smile, nodding. "Well I don't want you to, either." You straighten up as you fish into your bag for your keys. "Call me the next time you're in New York."

"Sure."

You reach out, cupping his cheek and leaning in, pecking his cheek. You pull away, smiling at the flush creeping across his face.

"Goodnight, Art."

"Night."

--

It isn't easy at first. Messages are far and few, mostly how are yous and how was your days. You think that as nice as the little swell of contact has been, that's all it'll be—but the two of you both start to really try. The odd text becomes the weekly phone call. Weekly phone calls become daily FaceTimes. On the nights when he has Lily, they're late, usually when you're getting ready for bed. On the nights when he's on his own, the two of you eat dinner together and chat over your calls. It isn't always perfect, but it's more than you could've anticipated from that dinner a couple of months ago.

--

"She down?"

"Yeah."

"Are you in a hotel again?"

"...Yeah." Art seems to admit it grudgingly, and you smile a little as you take up your toner and a cotton pad.

"There's nothing wrong with leaning into it if it's working," You argue. "And not to be that bitch, but you're not exactly broke."

"Might be if she keeps ordering room service and movies on-demand."

You laugh softly, turning your attention to your reflection as you swipe the toner across your face.

"How's your day been?" Art asks.

"Fine, standard. I had to fill out an assessment ahead of my annual review."

"When's that?"

"End of the week."

"How do you feel about it?"

"Mm," You shrug reaching for a serum. "Fine, I guess. I'm doing okay, my team's hitting their targets."

"You're doing better than okay."

"Art."

"You are."

"Well. Thank you for that." You glance over as he goes quiet, catching a glimpse of him as you smooth the serum into your skin. You raise your brows at the sight of his gentle, warm smile. "What is it?"

"You're beautiful."

Your face goes warm at the compliment, and you bite the inside of your cheek to tamp down your wide, idiotic smile.

"You are tired, huh," You deflect.

"I mean it."

"...I know," You murmur, reaching for your moisturizer. "Tell me what you got up to today."

"I had a meeting at the foundation. We're starting planning for the gala."

"Oh yeah? Have you done them before?"

"We've had three before, but I was usually playing or training, so I haven't been as involved in the planning."

"How's it been?"

"We're still in the preliminary stages, but it's been interesting, you know, seeing how the pieces come together before I usually see them."

You nod, picking the phone up from the mirror holder and heading into your bedroom.

"Where are you gonna have it?"

"We're still scouting locations...As a matter of fact," Art adds, "We're considering a few in New York."

"Oh?"

"I'll be down there for at least a few days, and I wanna see you."

You grin bashfully as you climb into bed, settling against your pillows.

"I wanna see you, too. Are you gonna, um—I mean, is Lily gonna be with you?"

"No, it'll be Tashi's weekend."

"Okay, cool. Just wanna make sure I don't mess up your time."

"I appreciate that." Art's tongue swipes across his lower lip, eyes sweeping across your face. "I gotta say..."

"Mmm?"

"I'm looking forward to seeing your apartment."

"Oh, really?" You chuckle. "Why's that?"

"It'll be interesting, that's all. I mean, you already take me to bed every night."

You laugh, covering your eyes as you groan, "Oh, god, shut up!" as Art chuckles.

"Let me know when you're free," You add. "Your schedule's gonna be weirder than mine."

"Yeah, I will, as soon as I know what it is." You watch as Art lays down, propping his phone up on the nightstand. "...Can you stay on?"

"Yeah," You soothe, setting your phone on the nightstand in suit. "Until we fall asleep."

"Okay," He murmurs. The two of you settle in on your sides, watching one another on the phone.

"Night, Art."

"Sweet dreams."

--

The restaurant is picked. Your nails are done, your hair is done; you get a new dress, new shoes, a new bag. You're going to have an amazing night—a good dinner, a great conversation, and, if you have any luck, an amazing good night kiss.

--

You know the minute you see him that you're not making it to the restaurant. Art's eyes sweep over you in covetous wonder when you open the door. He closes the gap between the two of you, drawing you into his arms, and this time you go without a second thought. He presses his face into your neck, letting out a gentle hum at the scent of your perfume. The tip of his nose trails up over your jaw, his lips brushing the corner of your lips as his forehead rests against yours. He sighs as you draw in a nervous breath, and he sways in, lips pressing to yours.

You raise your hand to cup his neck, shivering as his hands smooth over your hips. He guides you deeper inside, blindly reaching back and shoving the door shut behind you as you fling your purse toward the bench in your entryway. His kisses grow hungrier as he steers you down the hall. You slip your tongue along his, smoothing your hand up to grasp his hair. Your fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt, exposing more of his pale, muscled chest to you. He slides down the zipper on the back of your dress and leans away just long enough to draw the dress up over your head. His eyes sweep across you, taking in your lingerie.

You hook your thumbs under the band of your underwear, giving them a teasing wiggle as you back further away from him. You expect him to follow, but he steers you back against the wall, dropping his head to suck hot kisses along your neck and down to your chest. He yanks one of the cups of your bra down, taking your nipple into his mouth. You bite your lip, tipping your head back against the wall and whining as he slots his knee between your thighs. You roll your hips down against the hard muscle as he laves and teases your nipple, reaching up to thumb and tweak the other.

"Art—Mm, god that feels so good."

He groans against your skin, trailing his kisses further down as he lowers himself to his knees. You look down as he curls his fingers around your panties—and waits. You smile softly, nodding, murmuring, "Please?"

Art grins, pressing a kiss to your hip before he gently eases the fabric down, waiting for you to lift your feet so he can fling them away. He leans in, swiping his tongue across your aching clit. Your knees would knock if he wasn't wedged between them. You draw in a shallow breath, letting your head tip back as he draws your leg over his shoulder. You shiver at the feeling of the chilly air against your heated, slick flesh. He nuzzles and laps against your cunt, taking each tip of your hips in stride. His hand smooths up your trembling inner thigh, giving your ass a gentle squeeze before he teases a finger into you. You whimper at the touch, unable to help the way your pussy clenches around it.

Art groans at the feeling, turning his head to smear his lips slips against your hip.

"Goddamn," He breaths against you.

"More."

You feel more than hear his gentle chuckle as he eases another finger in.

"Need it bad, huh?"

"You have no idea."

"I'm getting a pretty good idea." He turns his head, leveling a sucking kiss to your clit that makes you cry out. You tighten your grip on his hair as he pumps his fingers harder, curling and scissoring them as he pushes you closer to the edge.

"Art—Mm, god, fuck, yes—Yes—" Your toes curl in your shoes as your hips rabbit down against his face and fingers, chasing the swell of your orgasm. You look back down as he draws back and find his lips and chin shining with your juices.

"Bed," He urges.

"You can fuck me right here."

Art laughs, standing and smoothing his hand over your thigh.

"We're doing this right."

"We could be doing this right...." You slid your hand down his chest to palm his cock through his pants. "Here."

You grin as Art's eyelids flutter, his dick twitching against you.

"Bed," He insists again.

It isn't far to go, and the two of you are entirely bare by the time you get there. You scooch back onto the bed, spreading your legs as he rolls on a condom. He's over you a moment later, and you watch the bulge of his biceps as he braces his hands on either side of your head. You bite your lip as you feel the brush of his cock against your entrance. You reach down, grasping his cock and guiding him closer.

You tip your head up, tongue teasing the seam of his lips as he eases into you. You melt into the mattress as he crushes against you, filling you completely. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, sliding your legs over his, as if you'll manage to fuse the two of you together. Art's tongue swirls around yours before he captures your lips in a kiss, rolling his hips slowly.

"More," You plead, but Art keeps his pace achingly steady, even when you try to pick up the pace.

"You feel so fucking good," He breathes, "Even better than you taste."

"Harder, Art, please, god damn, please," You whimper. He tips his head to the side nipping at the hinge of your jaw as he reaches down, hiking your hip up even higher. Your mouth fell open with a stunned moan as he presses deeper, the slap of his hips filthily filling the stifling air around you. You arch up against him, nails raking down his back as you feel the swell of another orgasm.

"Art."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm—Fuck, almost—"

"That's it." He sucks his fingers between his lips before he slips them between your bodies, swiping across your tender clit. You begin to close your eyes, but he tuts softly.

"Don't—Don't close your eyes—Look at me," He orders between breaths. You force yourself to focus on Art, taking in the flush on his cheeks, his almost dazed eyes.

"You, too—" You urge.

"Yeah—"

"Oh—yeah," You gasp, unable to keep your gaze on his you cum. You feel Art's hips slap roughly against yours before he slows, groaning low in his chest. You draw in a deep breath as your heart pounds in your chest, sinking back against your pillows as he settles down over you. You smooth your hand over his nape, smiling as he nuzzles against your shoulder, dropping tender kisses to your skin.

"...Art?"

"Yeah?"

"I think we're going to be late for dinner."

--

"You know, I've been thinking."

"You've been doing a lot more than thinking, mister," You mutter, and grin as Art laughs. You cuddle closer against his side, nuzzling into his chest as he tightens his arm around your shoulders.

"I'm glad I didn't know you liked me in college."

"Really?" You tip your head up, brow furrowing. "Why's that?"

"...I wasn't ready for you back then." He smooths his fingers along your jaw, eyes wandering your face contemplatively. "It's like you said, you know. You would've come second."

You nod, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm.

"I don't think I was ready for you, either," You admit. Art smiles.

"And you are now?"

"More than."

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[not-neverland06]

Hey! Love your writing and love Flux!! I was hoping to request a kind of angsty/fluffy fic with the worst!wolverine where the meet her in the void and maybe Logan knew her just not very well and he’s finally letting himself open up and be close with her (likewise with reader/flux towards logan) and they get into an argument or maybe logan has a nightmare and he ends up stabbing her with his claws and maybe the aftermath of him beating himself up and sabotaging the new relationship until reader finally snaps him out of it and says it was an accident and she still loves him?? Thanks!!

mistake

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

a/n: I want to thank you for this request because I've been having the worst writer's block in the world. I was worried about having to go into another unofficial hiatus, but this made something in my brain click together and I knocked it out in two hours. my life is yours 🙏🙏 Summary: You know him. Or, you knew him. And you never blamed him for what happened in your world. It wasn't his fault that everyone you loved died and you barely escaped with your life. But you never actually thought you'd have to see him again. You don't know what to do when all these feelings resurface with his appearance.

No one truly knew who you were back in your universe. After the horrific incident at the mansion, you had run. You’d run as fast and as far as you could from the slaughter of your friends. You’d barely escaped with your life, and from the amount of blood and gore they’d left behind, most people just assumed you were dead. 

It’s not like anyone cared about you. Scott, Ororo, and Jean had been the real heroes. But it didn’t matter because they were still mutants at the end of the day. It didn’t matter how many people they saved. How many lives they positively changed, no one would ever see past the fact that they were mutants. 

Being one of the newer members of the recently disbanded X-Men gave you enough anonymity to get through daily life without being recognized. It did not, however, protect you from being sucked into the shit fest that is the multiverse. 

You’re not sure what it is about you that just attracts bad luck. You don’t know if it’s some hidden power that’s a part of your evolution. You’re just apparently perpetually fucked. The TVA had determined that you were interfering with the proper flow of your timeline or some bullshit. 

Now you’re here. Stuck in the void with nothing but decay and drunk former superheroes. If you have to watch one more Captain America ‘rally the troops’ you’re gonna kill him yourself. You’ve considered switching teams and joining Cassandra Nova at times. If only so you don’t have to deal with Johnny Storm and the rest of the dipshits. 

You get along with Laura, at least. She likes to tell you about her Logan and you like to dodge her questions about yours. She doesn’t need to know that not every version of Wolverine has a golden heart and story worthy of tears. Yours was a fuck up, plain and simple, but you never thought the incident was his fault. 

As much as others tried to push the blame on him. The people who raided the mansion were determined. There was no other way that day was going to end up. You’d just have one less X-Man. But people always love a martyr more than a victim. 

After a couple of years, you get used to the monotony. Your days are only occasionally broken up by dodging Cassandra’s henchmen and trying not to get sucked up into the soul destroyer. Other than that, you spend your nights getting drunk with Gambit and pretending you know whatever the fuck he’s talking about. 

“Laura! I managed to find some chocolate!” You run into the hideout looking for the girl. It’s rare to find good food that isn’t already a month past its expiration date. You weren’t planning on sharing the candy with her but you figured she’d smell it on you and it’s not worth the fight. 

Instead, you stop short as the familiar blue and yellow uniform you’d always try to force on him comes into view. He’s stealing Gambit’s liquor and you know that’s not going to go over well. What you don’t know is why you are so sure that this is your Wolverine. 

You’ve never had a Wolverine in the void. Not once. This could be any one of the hundreds of thousands of variants. But you see that look in his eye. That familiar watery gaze shows just how much he hurts, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. 

“Logan?” You breathe his name out in disbelief. Bypassing the Deadpool standing nearby. You’ve dealt with enough of those in your time down here. He takes a step back, fixing you with a distrusting look. 

He keeps the bottle of alcohol clutched close to his chest like he thinks you’re going to take it. You track the movement and you scoff. “Right,” you shake your head and stop short. “Of course, the only thing you care about is still getting fucking drunk.”

He glares at you, taking a step forward like he thinks it might actually intimidate you. “Do I know you, bub?” He reaches forward, probably to jab his finger in your chest. You drop your gaze to his outstretched hand and narrow your eyes. 

The material of his suit fluctuates, pulling back and rippling over his arms like liquid and not spandex. He doesn’t notice the manipulation of matter until it's his skin you target. It melts off his adamantium bones and he stares down in horror. 

You know he's scared because he’s watching his body dissolve but he’s not feeling any pain. You could make it hurt, but that’s not what you want. You just want to see if he’ll remember you now. If there’s anything half-decent left in that alcohol-rotted brain of his.

“Flux,” he grits your X-Man name out through his teeth like it hurts him to say it. 

You nod and his skin and suit go back to normal, like you’d never tampered with it in the first place. “You do remember me, then?”

“Thought you fucking died with the rest of them.” Your face drops before you feel an astonished smile on your face. 

“You know, it’s a comfort to know nothing about my world has changed. You’re still the same spineless dick that left us all to die.” You shake your head and storm out of the hideout. You don’t know how long they’re planning on staying but you pray they leave soon. If you have to deal with him longer than a week, you’ll just kill him. 

You step outside just as Laura’s coming back from the bonfire. She greets you with a stiff smile and you wonder what’s got in her in a mood. It only takes a glance over her shoulder to find the reason.

Logan is sulking by the fire, nursing yet another bottle of whiskey. He’s drinking it like water and even with his healing, his liver should have turned to mush by now. “I can see why you didn’t tell me about him,” she mutters as she passes by you. 

You know she tried to be quiet but you can see the way Logan’s head tilts slightly towards you. He’s heard her and you know it has to sting just a little.

You glance down at the leaves under your feet, eyes glazing over as you feel the guilt sink into your stomach. You shouldn’t feel bad, you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t hurt him, technically, just reminded him who you were. But you still feel bad for what you said. 

You’ve never blamed Logan for what happened. And if you did, you would be a hypocrite. Because you survived too, and you left them all behind. You ran like a coward. You could never blame him when you failed to save them just the same. 

You take in a deep breath and steel yourself. You’ll just apologize, walk over there, and explain to him you didn’t mean what you said. You know he’ll be a dick about it. Claiming he doesn’t want your apology. You’ll just leave him alone after. 

You’re about to step forward when he barks out a gruff command, “Don’t fucking stare at me like that. I don’t want your company.” He turns back to the fire and takes another swig from his bottle. 

You roll your eyes and walk towards him. “You can be as miserable and self-pitying as you want, just let me say one thing.”

His head whips towards you so quickly you’re surprised you don’t hear it snap. “I’m not fucking pitying myself,” he grits out. You quirk your brows in amusement, glancing towards the bottle in his hand and the clear way he’s sulking. He turns his attention back towards the fire, intent on ignoring you again. 

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” you tell him. You ignore the warning look he shoots you, taking a seat beside him even if he doesn’t want you to. “I-” you choke on the words, struggling to admit to yourself what you’ve never wanted to. 

“Don’t.” You know it’s meant to be a warning. But when you look at him and see how completely broken he is, it sounds more like a pathetic plead. 

But you need to say this. As selfish as it is, you need to say this to someone., Need to unload this guilt you’ve carried for so long. “I was there, Logan. I could have saved them and I didn’t. I fucking ran.”

“Kid, don’t do this-”

“Jean was still moving,” you blurt out. You feel the way your heart speeds up at the admission. Your fingers shake and the air around you stills. 

His face drops and he slowly turns towards you. You’re afraid to look at him. You feel like a bunny staring down the snout of a wolf, there’s no escaping this. You’ve created this trap for yourself. 

“What?” He demands. His voice has lost that tremor of vulnerability. Instead, he sounds like he did when he first found out what had happened to you all. That same deadly level of calm that makes you want to bolt again. 

“She,” you stare into the fire until your eyes burn. You don’t know if it’s from the light or the smoke but the pain focuses you. “She was shaking on the floor. There was blood everywhere and she could barely breathe. They had gassed us with something. None of us could use our powers, it’s the only reason they got a one-up on us.”

You can feel yourself slipping back into that moment. You feel the warmth of the blood on your skin. It seeps into your suit and makes the material cling to you. Your gut is split open and the only thing holding your intestines in is your hands. 

Jean is in front of you. Her hands are twitching by her sides. There’s blood pouring out of her lips, dribbling down her tongue and cheeks. Every breath is a rattle so deep you feel it in your bones. 

Each inhale sounds like someone dragging glass through the membrane of her lungs. Her chest rises and sinks shallowly as she gasps for air. She’s practically convulsing, eyes twitching every which way.

The gas has faded from the halls. The people have left, satisfied with the carnage. You’re alone, surrounded only by the blood and bodies of your friends. None of the others are moving. Some of them are so mangled you can’t even tell who they are anymore. 

Jean’s eyes lock onto yours. The only anchor she has. And you can see it, the frantic, wounded animal gaze on her face. She knows she’s dying. She knows there’s nothing she can do about it. 

You can only stand by and watch as your friend dies. You could be her comfort. You could be the last face she sees before she dies, distracting her from the sight of her dead fiancee behind her. 

But what do you do?

You hold your guts in your stomach and you run. You can’t look at her. You can’t look at any of them. You can hear her croaking behind you. And even when you’re out of the mansion, when you’re in a hospital somewhere getting repaired and Logan’s on a rampage, you still hear her. 

You feel something heavy on your arm and it’s like you're being forcibly dragged out of a trance. Logan’s looking at you with something you’ve never seen before. But it’s something you’ve always desperately craved. 

It’s like he’s seeing you, really seeing you. For the first time in a long time, you feel that ache of guilt ease away ever so slightly. It doesn’t disappear, but you’re sharing the burden with someone else and it’s a relief you’ve desperately craved. 

“You’re not a bad person for leaving, kid.” He swallows roughly and you place your hand over his. He doesn’t look completely comfortable with the touch, slightly flinching away from it, but he doesn’t move. “If you hadn’t, you would be dead.”

You squeeze his hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I never blamed you for what happened.” emotion is so thick on your tongue and in your throat that the words come out a whisper. “Their deaths weren’t your fault, and what happened after wasn’t.”

He clenches his eyes shut and jerks his hand out of your grip. You sigh, knowing you’ve lost him. “I slaughtered them.”

You scoff, “They slaughtered us!” You nearly shout, anger bubbling hot in your gut. When you heard about him killing those who had hunted down your friends, you’d celebrated. And when you heard the way the public was crucifying him, you realized that no matter what you did they would never love you. 

You would always be nothing more than a mutant to them. 

“And the people who didn’t hurt them? The innocents I killed?” 

You don’t have anything to say to that. You just stand up, placing a hand on his shoulder as you pass by him. “I never blamed you, Logan.”

You don’t see Logan again after that. At least, not while you’re in the void. What was left of your little resistance was sucked up into the purple cloud of death. Only you and Laura are left with the carnage. 

Logan and Wade have disappeared to who knows where. It stings, to be on your own again. Sure, you have Laura, but she’ll never understand the pain of what happened to your universe. 

As much as it hurt, at least with Logan, you had someone to share the pain with. You could share your burden with him. You feel lonely and cold. Like there’s a part of you missing. You finally figure out what that ache is when the TVA comes to collect you and you see him again. 

He’s standing behind Wade as he enthusiastically tells you and Larua all about his world. But you can’t take your eyes off Logan, or the tentative smile on his face. Whatever had happened during that fight with Cassandra Nova had changed him, for the better. 

You smile back at him and it feels like taking a breath of fresh air after years. 

Apparently, whoever this world’s Flux had been, she was fucking insanely rich. And dead, which sucked for her but was great for you and Logan. 

It’s not hard for you to fake some government identities and explain that you’d been mistakenly marked as dead. It’s apparently pretty common in this universe. Superheroes are blipped out of existence all the time. You couldn’t get all of her assets as some had been liquidated, but you did get her giant ass house. 

You let Logan and Laura stay with you until they decide where they want to go. It’s better than living with Wade and his coke-fiend roommate. Laura finds her groove pretty quickly, it is her world after all. But you and Logan struggle to figure out what to do with yourselves. 

Neither of you has an interest in being X-Men again, and it seems like they’re not incredibly present in this world either. You also hadn’t been the best of friends, even before everything went wrong, back home. 

You’re not strangers, you’re not friends, you’re that awkward place in between. Each day is another opportunity to get to know each other. The progress might be slow, but you know that you’re getting closer to something real. 

It’s why you don’t feel any qualms about running into his room when you hear him shouting. You burst into his room and the door slamming against the wall isn’t even enough to wake him up. 

He’s writhing around in the bed, sheets twisted around his waist while sweat beads down his forehead. The noises he’s making remind you of a wounded animal. There’s something heartbreaking about this. 

He doesn’t get peace even when he’s sleeping. It makes you hurt for him. You want to smooth over the aches and pains he carries and burden yourself with them. 

The thought snaps you out of your reverie and you’re shocked by the revelation. You’d been growing closer to him, but you hadn’t thought you were growing this close. You feel so strongly for him, but you’re not ready to put a name on what it is that you feel for him. You just know that right now you want to make him feel better. 

You approach the bed cautiously, taking a seat beside him. The bed ripples and jolts underneath you as he tosses and turns. You place a gentle hand on his arm and shake, “Logan,” you whisper. You don’t want to startle him too bad. 

But he’s not responding to anything. It doesn’t matter how much you shake him or call out his name. Finally, you can’t handle it anymore. You get on your knees, sitting over him and bringing your palm down across his face as hard as you can. 

In a second he’s shooting up. You don’t even notice his hand until you see the way his vision clears. The visceral panic fades and something is aching in your gut. “Oh god, no no no,” he says the word so many times it stops sounding real. 

You look down and see the blood dribbling down his palm, the claws buried in your stomach. It’s almost funny, how perfectly aligned they are with the scar that already lived there. The reminder of your friend’s death being erased and reformed by Logan’s hand. 

He pulls his wrist back and you quickly snatch it up. “Don’t!” You shout, jaw clenching against the pain. “Don’t pull them out, I’ll just bleed out.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” You know he’s worried, that’s why he snaps at you. But it doesn’t help the way you feel yourself fighting back tears.

He sees them drip down your cheeks and his face drops. His other hand, the one not in you, comes up and cradles your cheek. “What do I do?” He whispers, and he sounds more desperate than you do. 

You know he doesn’t want another death on his hands. But there’s something beyond that. He doesn’t want to be the reason you stop breathing. There’s a startling clarity when you’re slowly dying. 

He cares about you. Just as deeply as you do for him. You can’t make him go through this pain again. Can’t let him suffer alone, not when he’s made so much progress. “Slowly,” you tell him, guiding his claws out inch by inch. 

It’s hard not to black out. You’d barely felt it when he’d gotten you the first time. You think it’s because of how fast and sudden it was. But this, having them oh so slowly slicing through your insides is the worst form of torture. 

But you don’t heal like him. You have to close your eyes, focus on the pain, and forcibly reknit your skin back together. It’s a clever manipulation of your powers, but it’s a slow one. You could never take serious damage on the field because you wouldn’t be fast enough to repair yourself. 

This is easy to repair. But that doesn’t make it hurt less. It feels like an hour before he can safely draw them the rest of the way out. The second he does, you’re sinking into his arms with a pained sob. 

He clutches you so tightly to his chest you worry your back might snap. He keeps muttering apologies into your hair, hands desperately grasping at every inch of you he can hold. You’re too tired to say anything. 

You realized you should have. You should have told him you don’t blame him. You were the one who snuck into his room. You should have been smarter. But it doesn’t matter how many times you tell Logan not to blame himself, he always will. And you were too tired to try anyway. 

You only realize what’s happening two days after the incident. You figured he might need some space to process what happened. And honestly, you did too. It was awful and incredibly draining. You’ve felt fatigued ever since. 

But when you try and approach him and he just brushes past you like you weren’t even there, you know something is wrong. You watch his retreating back with a disturbed glare. You connect the dots quickly, already knowing what he’s doing. 

He doesn’t want to be responsible for hurting another person he loves. He can’t handle a loss like that again, even if it’s not by his hands. He wants to make sure you don’t want him, that you don’t care for him. Like that might ease the pain and guilt. 

But it wouldn’t. It would just make him feel worse. It would make you feel worse. 

You don’t waste a second, following him up the stairs and barging into his room before he can slam the door shut. It bounces off the wall and he lets out a deeply irritated sigh. He doesn’t turn to look at you, just walks over to his nightstand and rummages around through the doors.

You know he’s not looking for anything. He’s just trying to ignore you long enough for you to give up. It’s not going to happen, he should know better. 

You take a step further into the room and the smell of chemicals slams into you. Your nose wrinkles in disgust. It smells like he pumped Lysol into the vents. Your eyes dart to the bed and you sigh. 

Your blood, you’d completely forgotten. He must have been cleaning it up the morning after. You can’t blame him for wanting to get rid of the remainder. But this seems excessive. 

“Strong nose,” he mutters. You hadn’t realized you’d spoken aloud and you glanced over at him. “I can still smell it, even after cleaning.” He takes a seat on the bed and you hate the way his shoulders are slumped. 

He’d seemed so much more comfortable with himself lately. It’s like one accident has undone all his progress. “Logan,” you start, taking a step towards him. He holds his hand up, still not looking at you. 

It’s driving you insane. You wish he would just meet your eyes. You feel like you could change his mind if he would just see you. Maybe that’s why he won’t. He won’t let himself be happy. 

“Look, that night just made me realize what a huge fucking mistake this was.” He gets up and slides something out from under the bed. It takes a moment for you to register what it is. A duffel bag, packed with all his essentials and what little clothes he owns. 

He’s going to leave.

You act without thinking. Pure panic making your powers surge out. Logan grunts and the bag falls out of his hand. “Quit it,” he snipes, bending over to pick it up. But he can’t because it’s so heavy it’s making the wooden floor splinter and crack under its weight. 

“You don’t get to just leave when things get hard, Logan.”

He stands up, hands propped on his sides. There’s a challenge in his eyes that makes you nervous. “Fuck this,” he scoffs and brushes past you. 

It’s beyond manipulative to use your powers against him. But sometimes, someone is such a fucking idiot, they need a little outside help. You slam the door closed and the handle disappears, locking you both in his room. 

He turns towards you with a fierce glare on his face. “Open the goddamn door before I break it down.”

“You can try,” you taunt, a nasty tone to your voice. You’re sick of this. You’re sick of running from what you want. You’ve been miserable and alone for years. You want to be happy. For the first time in forever, you want something. 

And you want Logan to be happy with you. You can’t force him to feel the way you do. But you can stop him from actively preventing this. “Stop acting like a goddamn child and just talk to me!” You shout at him. 

There’s a disbelieving look on your face. You don’t understand why he won’t let this happen. Why does he have to fight so hard against any semblance of happiness in his life?

“I’m going to hurt you. That is all I do. I hurt the people I love and I cannot hurt you too.” Your eyes widen in shock at his outburst. Beyond anger, there was so much fear in his voice it was almost enough to make you miss what he’d said. 

“You love me?” You can see the realization dawn on him. The fact that he let slip why he’s so hesitant to be around you. You know he wants to leave, his eyes are darting around the room for an escape route, but you’ve blocked them all. You can’t let this go, not now. 

“Logan,” you snap, demanding an answer from him. 

“Fuck you,” he mutters, something vicious on his face. 

He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to lash out and say something cruel so that this doesn’t happen. You know him because you’ve been him. He will take every possible route to get out of this if it means he doesn’t have to face his feelings. 

You roll your eyes and take a step forward. You jerk him towards you and throw yourself on him before he can say something stupid. The kiss is brief, just enough to snap him out of this ridiculous headspace he’s in. 

When you pull back he looks dazed, but he’s relaxed in your hold, sinking towards you. You grin up at him, “I love you too, dumbass.” You lean up to kiss him again but you dart back at the last second, a mean glare on your face. “Pull some shit like this again and I’m going to melt your dick off.” 

You kiss him before he can respond, but you feel the smile against your lips. You can taste the defeat on his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and tugs you into his chest. He’s not going to push you away and you’re not going to let him. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl @allllium  ♡ 

[itsastrobixch]

Astrology notes

- gemini / mercury / uranus / aqua change their identity a lot online. They place a lot of importance on their online identity and as they change so does their online personas.

- Mercury dominance if well placed Learnt to talk very early and saturn mercury aspects learnt to speak a bit late or may speak with a bit of hesitation.

- chiron in 1st have deep rooted identity issues and may also not be able to relax in photos and stuff. Some may even go to the extent of not wanting to take pictures at all.

- count yourself lucky if : air signs ask for your advice.. They don't ask option from everyone. Similarly if fire signs seek you out or show you their defeated side and depressed side. They Always want people to seem them as optimistic fiery and determined but like evryone they too go through down times but they tend to bounce back faster than others.

- Mercury saturn or Mercury rx may have great conversations with themselves in their heads but when it comes out it night miss the mark or.. Like not sound as good as it did in their brains.

- all mercury /gemini dominants open 3 to 5 tabs at the same time. And don't finish a single one completely. Change my mind.

- moon pluto tumultuous emotions. Whiplash. One extrene or the other. Mood changes just with a single event. The whole room can feel the shift as well. Moon and Pluto both give out unstable, watery and intense emotions. It can be difficult if negatively aspected. Even if positively aspected it can lead to the feeling overwhelming emotions.

- People with pluto in 1st, their emotions are hidden. No one knows how they feel. Mostly i see geminis get all the credit for their glib tongues. But have you ever seen a Pluto person toy with people when they know they truth ? They'll lie so effortlessly that even the people who know the truth will start to believe the lie is the truth. Their words and their facial expressions while lying is so controlled and natural it's scary.

- Asteroid Cerea shows is how we nurture. Aries ceres is the defender of the group and people who tend to protect people who are defenseless esp animals. Taurus is the comforter. And so on. But aspects and the house in which Ceres is in also plays a major role.

- Uranus / gemini in 3rd house have lots of ideas at the same time but many are unfocused and evrything is gone in a fleet. They may have a brilliant idea but Lose it in the next second. It'll be better if they scribble down their thoughts anywhere somewhere so they'll have a basic idea of what they thought.

- I fucking admire Aries women, esp as a Libra, like how tf..? i used to have a friend, she used to do some pretty controversial shit in high school but like never once let anything get iin her way and is now a part time business woman...like come on...how are you so headstrong ? And somehow things also tend to workout for them

- every mutable person has a box full of drafts all half done and of various types but all undone. Its a mess of ideas and posts half written and lost interest and motivation along the way...but I'll save it for another day when I will want to finish it up.

- If an air sign texts you daily, they like you. Especially instant replies . 🌝

- scorpio, and Venus Pluto aspects also tend to fall for someone who is out of their grasp. they like to torture themselves like that 😂 or they'll think that they don't deserve the person they're in love with. Its Always one or the other with them.

- venus neptune contacts produce the devoted worshipper type lovers. They will worship the ground their love walks on and will turn a blind eye to their faults. This is most definitely not a healthy patter of behaviour. Please don't indulge in this.

- mercury dominants can't fucking shut their brain off. they have a lot of nervous energy. And will Always be actively thinking about atleast two things at once.

- actually now that i think about it, my bffs in high are an Aries sun, me a sag rising and my frnd a leo sun. and i still wonder why the girls didn't like us 😂🌝 if fire signs get together whether they stir up drama or not, it'll either find them or people will hold them responsible for it even if they aren't.

- gemini and Mercury dominants can imitate very well especially the accents. Their adpative ability is out of charts and a bit creepy tbh. how they change acc to people, how they acclimatise to their surroundings ax cultures, they have this ability which allows to be another person if they like.

- mars - pluto negative aspects may have r*pe dreams often even if they haven't had any such encounters.

- pluto in 1st are ironically afraid of death and illness more so than the usual person.

- 11th house sign may show how we behave online.

-geminins have this weird ability to take and soak up information from all over the place and somehow put it together perfectly . they learn stuff from disorderly messes but they seem to understand it with clarity.

[flowerisevil]

For I am yours.

Gwayne Hightower x Targaryen princess original character.

A/N: this was one of the request I received but I accidentally deleted i along with my previous works:( anyways I use an OC for this one sorry, I hope you'll like it.

Disclaimer: mention of past attempted SA, inform me if i miss anything also possible grammatical and typographical errors ahead. English is not my first language

Summary: he was sworn to her, he is hers in any way she requires him.

~°~°~

Elaerys Targaryen, the epitome of grace and beauty in the Seven Kingdoms, many have said she had surpassed the qualification of the beauty of Targaryen woman, they said she was favored by the Sevens for having a such gorgeous features. And Elaerys was much aware of the attention and beauty she acquired, and her face is the exact reason why she have different guards every moon.

Her father, the King had to change her sworn protector every moon because of two reason, they had attempted to took advantage of her, or fell for her beauty. All of them broke their oath to the princess leading them to be exiled from the position and in King's Landing.

"It is none of your fault, Elaerys" her older sister comforted her, as she heard the news that her new sworn protector was caught glimpsing at her bathro door.

"Nyra, t-this is the exact reason why his grace would not allow me to go outside these walls, I want to go out, I want to visit the cities and people!" Elaerys complained, she envy her older sister Rhaenyra when their father allowed her to have her marital tour, Rhaenrya was abled to travel while her stayed in the Keep.

"next moon perhaps father will less strict to you after your name day" Rhaenyra cheered for her as she finished braiding Elaerys white hair.

"you look exactly like mother" her sister added smiling at the sight of her younger sister.

Elaerys bittersweet smile, she loved and hated it the same time, she loved being beautiful no doubt but its the very reason why she's also caged in here.

"Do you think If I get married I will be much more free?" Elaerys asked, her hand scratch the blade of her shoulders anxiously.

Rhaenyra sighed. "It depends but mostly no, when you became a wife you have duties to attend to Elaerys" Rhaenyra pitied her, she knows the exact feeling of being prisoned here in the castle.

Rhaenyra only hugged her to show comfort, she knows when the time has come the King will learn to let her fly on her own wings, after all she is a dragon nonetheless she is made of fire and blood too.

**

Her name day came, and the right time for marriage, the King prepared a grand celebration for her second born daughter, a ball and feast.

Elaerys sat on her seat beside her was her sister Rhaenyra almost drunk from all of the wine she drank tonight. The princess looked around setting her eyes on a familiar deep blue eyes, Ser Harwin Strong.

"You missed him don't you?" Rhaenyra whispered beside her, teasing her sister to its past lover.

Elaerys shrugged her, her sister wasn't wrong but she had decided to stay away from him. He was her almost, if only Ser Harwin is not bounded by too much honor, that he chose his duty than asking for her hand in marriage, but she could not blame him for not risking his position.

"Why don't you tell our father that you want him to marry? I am quite sure he will trust Ser Harwin on your protection, that man can dead someone who will dare to lay a finger on you" Rhaenyra jested as she loudly laughed.

It's not like she did not thought of that but other than his bounded to his duty, Elaerys felt Harwin did not want to do anything with her anymore, she would not want to tie him in a loveless marriage with her forever.

Her eyes searched for him again once again, she looked for him in the dancing crowd, maybe his out there dancing with some other highborn ladies.

"Done looking for that brawny man?" Her eyes promptly looked up to see their cousin Laenor, just like her sister he also knew the past business she and Ser Harwin once had.

Laenor sat on the other empty side chair beside her. "Happy name day cousin, welcome to the right age of marriage" Laenor and Rhaenyra both laughed, looks like their three years in marriage are already taking big impact on each other.

She both sign them to stop when they saw the King approaching beside him was his Hand and another red headed man.

The three youngster Targaryens stood up, bowing to the King before Viserys spoke. "My daughter happy name day, here may I present to you your new sworn protector"

A man stepped forward, wearing a green and silver tunic, his hair looks like an ginger auburn hair close up, pale skin, blue eyed and freckled man reveals himself.

"Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown" the King introduced.

Elaerys eyes darted to Otto, this is his son?

"Hightower? I did not assume Ser Otto has a knight i their family" Rhaenyra commented.

Otto simply smiled, sarcasm filled his face. "Gwayne is Alicent's older brother, my heir to Oldtown"

Laenor spoke first of the three of them. "An honor to meet you Ser Gwayne, I do hope you enjoy your stay here in King's Landing and you will keep an eye at my cousin, the princess she can be very hard to handle sometimes"

It made the group laughed, Gwayne smiled while nodding in acknowledgment, his gaze moved to the princess, Gwayne noticed the discreet look she gave him. He bow in respect but Elaerys only nod and offer him a small smile.

"Thank you your grace, I shall observe Ser Gwayne's skills" Elaerys uttered, it earned a laugh from her father.

As the celebration continued Gwayne stay near her, she thought he would start his duty by tomorrow but the knight stayed close to where she was.

Gwayne was relief and bizarre for the princess, commonly highborn ladies would love this kind of events but instead she sat there and watch the crowd, most specifically he noticed that she's eyeing someone in the crowd.

Gwayne examined her, all of the stories about her graceful beauty, he thought people was just exaggerating again about someone from the Targaryen dynasty but no, her white silver hair neatly dropped down, her lilac eyes, and flawless skin, her entire aspect screams elegance and royalty, she was indeed a princess.

Elaerys was feeling spiritless around this crowd, she wish to have a breath of the air outside, she stood from her seat and walked away from the banquet, she was thankful Laenor and Rhaenyra both left her for a moment so no one would stop her from leaving.

She knew her new sworn protector was following her, it was his duty what else did she expect?

She stopped infront of the empty balcony, she turned around seeing her knight near the open dood to guard it. Silence filled the balcony, Elaerys was quite familiar with that aspect but her knight on the other side seems bothered it.

"Don't you relish the grand celebration inside, princess?" Gwayne spoke, he wasn't use to a such silence.

"I seem to grow tired of it Ser"

"Then why don't you rest on your chamber?"

Elaerys frowned, turning her head to look at her knight, his voice was filled with sarcasm?

"Pardon?"

Gwayne seem to take notice about the change of expression of the princess, "I mean no offense, princess"

After that silence filled them again, until excuse herself to rest no one talked again.

Months had passed Gwayne surprisingly was able to keep his oath and duty, but he did admit it to himself that somehow he catched an attraction to the princess, with her kind and pleasing demeanor he tried his best but it was too late.

They had interacted and shared a lot of unexpected proximity many times, just like right now. Both of them under of one of the trees in Kingswood. Elaerys sneaked outside the King's Landing after hearing the news that the is planning to match him with Tyland Lannister, Gwayne spotted her sneak outside the castle and when he confronted her, the princess plead him and there they are.

"That man age is near his deathbed" Elaerys muttered, a bottle of ale on her right hand, she felt like her head was spinning.

"That is a very rude thing to say princess" Gwayne looked at him and continued "but I very much agree so"

Gwayne watched her reaction, when Elaerys laughed he did the same, relieved that he managed to let out a pretty laugh from her mouth. A few moments later the two shared a deep conversation.

"Ser Gwayne did you ever had a relationship with someone you shouldn't had?"

Gwayne rested his head on the pillar of the tree. "I never had a serious relationship my princess"

"you mean you only dealt with whores in brothels?"

"not only in brothels my princess" Gwayne fixed his armor before speaking again. "But those were before I was appointed as a knight, as I enter knighthood I have left all of those behind"

Elaerys smiled as she nodded. "I do not criticize your Ser for acting like a normal human"

"I do not think you're the type of judging someone without fully knowing them"

A smiles formed on the drunk face of the princess, she drank another sip from her ale, Gwayne did not want to stop her, he knows she had a rough day and he would not neglect her for having freedom for once.

"If you do not mind princess, have you fell for someone you should not have?"

She did. And looks like she was about to again.

Gwayne saw the glint in her eyes, he nodded. "i shall take that as a yes. If I may, who is this lucky Lord then?"

Gwayne can feel his heart beating fast, he was hoping for the answer that he wants. That his name would be the words that would trail off from her mouth.

"Ser Harwin Strong, he was my first lover.."

Gwayne let out a dramatic gasp. "You have a very surprising taste, princess"

Who knows that the man of honor, the one they call the hard Breakbones and the Lord Commander of City Watch fell for the princess beauty?

But who wouldn't? That's the very reason why the King appointed him to this position. His Grace had expected him to not have any romantic attachment to the princess.

Elaerys talked about Harwin for hours and it was making Gwayne's ear fuzz, the constant utter of the name Harwin from the princess pain his ears, maybe letting the princess finish those three bottles of ale was a bad idea, she was intoxicated.

"Ser Gwayne"

Her words caught his attention, finally a good name came out from her pretty lips. As he turned his face to her, he was stunned by their proximity, he hadn't realize that Elaerys already closed the gap between them.

"You shall have your very own oath to me" The princess declared. "I want you to make your own vow and swear it to me" He thought maybe its just one of the princess nonsense game driven by the alcohol but somehow in him felt to take it seriously.

His eyes pierced into her, he suddenly lost all his ability to look away, she was more than beautiful, its not just her hair and eyes, but what her face express and trying to tell that makes her beautiful. As she looked up to him their gaze met, both glued on each other.

"I Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown vow to you my Princess Elaerys Targaryen, that I will do my very best and offer my very last breath serving and protecting you, I shall serve no one but you, and you shall have me for anything you require, for I am yours"

It almost sounded like a marriage vow.

Elaerys beamed at him her hand reaching to cup his cheeks "You are a very beautiful man Ser Gwayne" were the last think she muttered before she drift off to sleep.

Is she always like this? Is this the reason why her past knights all head over heels to her? If yes then he himself is no different from those knights.

"No wonder those men was enchanted by this lovely princess" he exhales, guiding the princess to lay comfortably on the grounds, he cannot risk riding his horse with a wasted princess with him.

He took of his white cloak and placed it on the ground to serve as a sheet of the princess, after placing her to her handmaid bed he leaned and pressed his back on the tree.

He cannot end up like those knights, exiled from their position and in King's Landing. The King trusted him with his daughter and Seven hells the princess is younger than her sister Alicent.

"I am not even sure if she feels the same way" he chuckles.

***

After that night, Elaerys felt a wall that her knight build, he became distant and cold. And she knew the very exact reason why.

She hated that she yearned for him after that night, she hated that she have to pretend everyday that his distance from her did not bother her, she hated that he placed a barrier between them. A lot change after that night, she sometimes caught herself looking at him for too long, glimpsing at his lips, looking or searching for him when she would lose the sight of him.

"I want to go to Rhaenyra" Elaerys spoke while walking through the halls.

"As you wish princess, I shall accompa-"

"I would like to go alone, for the meantime you can have an hour off Ser Gwayne, you have nothing to worry I'll stay inside her chambers" Elaerys explained

He wanted to protest, to not let her take away the only opportunity he have to be close to her, the only chance he can see glance at her for as much as he can, but reading her eyes he sense that he should let her after all he is serving her and he should do whatever she commander him to do.

Elaerys started walking away from him, he can hear the fast click of her shoes showing her urgency.

Elaerys did not bother to knock on her sister's door as she opened it, she walked to Rhaenyra's bed and hugged her.

"What's the problem?" Rhaenyra spoke but the princess keep her head on her older sister's shoulder.

"Rhaenyra, what if I wish to marry someone?" Elaerys lifted her head, facing her sister's confused face.

"and? You make it sound that the man you want to marry is someone who you shouldn't" Rhaenyra replied.

Elaerys did not manage to answer, Rhaenyra had hit the right words. Rhaenyra sat straight concern filled her face.

"It's Ser Gwayne isn't it?"

Elaerys nodded her head dropping ashamed of what she put herself into.

Rhaenyra chuckles as she raised her sister's face. "You have nothing to be ashamed of Elaerys, Ser Gwayne is an honorable knight"

"exactly Rhaenyra he is a knight, my sworn protector, he took an oath, it is treason if we engage into any romantic relations"

"Elaerys sometimes you have to take a risk and know its outcome than not doing anything"

Rhaenyra talked to her like how an older sister would, she gave her advices and guidance of what she should do.

"The decision is on you sister, and whatever it is I will support you" was Rhaenyra's last words.

Is the decision truly on hers?

***

She have thought of her sister words, after all Elaerys is not sure if Gwayne even felt the same.

While walking in Godswood and Gwayne guarding her as usual, she was admiring the fall of leaves from the branches when someone called her from behind.

He knew exactly those deep gentle voice, she turned around and faced the man infront of her.

"Ser Harwin"

Harwin Strong bow to her, his large hand reaching for her as he pressed his lips on her knuckles. Gwayne's face on the other hand grimaced at the sigh, he was not liking the sigh he was having.

"I pass by outside and I saw you and thought I should pay you a visit" Harwin replied.

Elaerys smiled bitterly "How ironic that you only thought of that now" it came out as a whisper but Harwin clearly heard it.

"I will be away for a very long time darling" he tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear, before he softly cupped her cheeks.

Elaerys expected that she would melt as soon as he does that but she felt nothing instead her eyes looked for Gwayne, as soon as they locked their eyes Gwayne looked away like he saw nothing.

"I do not see any reason for you to inform me Ser Harwin, I have thought you do not want anything to do with-" she stopped her words when Harwin leaned his forehead to hers.

"my Elaerys, forgive me for what I have done, once I come back I promise I will ask for your hand in marriage and I will fight for it no matter-"

Harwin was pushed away from her, she looked at Gwayne who had separated the both of them.

"I expect you are well known on the ethics and policies of touching the princess Ser Harwin, it is treason" Gwayne informed, he stepped forward placing her behind him.

"I meant no harm to the princess, apologies for my insolence"

Gwayne wanted to curse him, he can resist him touching her hands but leaning his forehead to hers? Acting like their a married couple? Fuck that.

Elaerys tried to defend Harwin but Gwayne keep on talking about the boundary Harwin crossed.

"Ser Gwayne, do not worry he meant no harm"

Elaerys looked at Gwayne when he faced her, she can almost read his entire face, it was mixed of emotion, hurt, anxious, possessiveness and jealousy? He was looking intently at her, like he wants to say something.

Gwayne felt his heart sank everytime Elaerys would defend this man, he looked at her with defeat and resignation.

"Ser Harwin you are dismissed" Elaerys command.

"But Elaerys-"

"May the Sevens bless you for your long journey"

Was what Elaerys only answer before she left the Godswood, Harwin gaze dropped on Elaerys fingers that swiftly pulled her knight's hand, dragging him inside the castle.

Gwayne was too clouded too realize that Elaerys was holding his hands, he tried to pull away only for the princess to tighten her grip. Soon they stopped in an empty hallway, Elaerys dropped her grasp to him.

"Ser Gwayne, what is it up with you? You don't to be yourself lately?"

"Princess you have nothing to worry about"

"What was that earlier? You dare to threaten Ser Harwin Strong?"

"He touched you princess, he was too close to you it was improper" Gwayne stood straight, defending his argument.

"Are you jealous of him?" Elaerys blurted out, it was an embarrassing question to ask.

Elaerys can see him frown, she looked away after a few minutes of no answer. "I am sorry Ser Gwayne for that I did not mean to-"

"It was more than jealousy that I felt earlier princess"

Elaerys looked at him, his head was facing down, completely avoiding her eyes.

"I had become one of the knight that broke their oath to you" he added "so when I saw you with Ser Harwin earlier with his forehead resting to yours I was...furious, I wanted to break his face and make sure he would not be able to do that to you again." her sworn protector confessed.

Gwayne sighs before he let out a plain chuckle "How can I ever resist someone like you? I cannot blame those men even Ser Harwin for falling to a such beauty" he added, his words delivered compliments but its voice was filled with hurt.

Gwayne bowed before he excused himself, Elaerys was left there frozen, not a single word even left her lips, she was too stunned to his confession.

Gwayne was no where to be seen the rest of the day after their encounter, Elaerys searched for him, she even asked the servants and other kingsguard but they all said that they did not saw him.

Elaerys has to express herself to him too, he has to know what she felt for him.

Elaerys gave up and was taking rest on her chamber when there was a knock on her doors, she let them in and it revealed Rhaenyra.

"Father....he summons you in the throne room" Rhaenyra informed a comforting smile carved on her lips.

"For what?" She asked but Rhaenyra only shrugged, with a complaining groan, Elaerys stood up before walking with her sister through their way inside the throne room.

As the door opened, the two princess walked infront of the king as they bowed.

"Ah my daughter Elaerys I would like you to meet Lord Cregan Stark, from the North son and heir of Lord Stark" Viserys introduced, the man Cregan walked up to her and bow.

"An honor to meet you princess" he politely greeted.

He looked like a chivalrous man, well men from the North tends to be more honorable than men from here.

"Lord Cregan is here to begin his courtship to you" Elaerys eyes widened at her father's last words.

"Since you have not found someone you wish to marry than I already find one for yours, Lord Cregan is your betrothed from now on" the King commanded.

The princess fisted her hands, "I do not wish to marry him your grace"

"you will not disobey your king, Elaerys"

Elaerys stepped back away from Cregan and face the King.

"Forgive me your grace but I do not plan marrying Lord Cregan and be sent to the North after?"

Viserys looked at Rhaenyra signing her to stop and convince her sister but Rhaenyra looked away like she saw nothing.

"Elaerys, Ser Cregan will protect you"

"By how? Isolating me in a cold place? Father I am a dragon why would you put a fire in a place like North?"

Viserys stood up, even his Hand try his best to calm him down Viserys refused. Elaerys breathed out composing the right words to deliver her message.

"Father...I have someone in my mind that I wish to marry, forgive me" Elaerys said before walking out of the room, she felt suffocated.

Viserys on the other hand was left with frustration, he have thought he would not have a hard time finding a match for his daughter.

"The princess is probably exhausted your grace, her young mind is new to the reality of betrothal and marriage" Rhaenyra defense.

"She said she wish to marry someone, do you know who is this man?"

The people inside the room waited for her answer, she can feel cold sweats forming on her forehead, the King's Hand spoke.

"News had spread in the previous months ago your grace said that the princess Elaerys was caught visiting the quarter of the City Watch and she is often caught in the presence of the Lord Commander of City Watch" Otto announced.

"Saying such gossip and stories about my sister is treason my Lord Hand" Rhaenyra pointed out.

Otto face formed in a small sly smile. "I am only informing the King of what people inside the Keep see, some said the Lord Commander was saw leaving the princess chamber in the middle of the night-"

"Are you questioning my daughter's virtue Otto?"

The Hand stopped his sentence, shock and defeat spread on his face. "I mean no offense you grace"

"Rhaenyra I need to know who is this man?" Viserys turned his attention back to his eldest.

When Rhaenyra did not answered he spoke again. "I command you Rhaenyra, is it true that Harwin had defile your sister?"

"Sevens! No Father!"

"Then what is the truth-"

"She intends to marry Ser Gwayne!"

A loud silence occupied them, Viserys mouth half opened, the shock om Otto's face was a pure sight.

"Elaerys came to me one night, she was scared when she confessed to me that she wanted to marry Gwayne, she said she was afraid of how you will react and what you will do to them" Rhaenyra added more, her head remained high directly looking to the King.

"Gwayne Hightower he poisoned your sister's mind, he seduced her!" Viserys turned to Otto, grabbing the collar of his clothes. "Your son dare to disrespect me by breaking his vow is this the reason why he resigned and decided to go back in Oldtown?"

Otto wanted to unalive him right there, "Your grace I know nothing about this"

Rhaenyra frowned, Ser Gwayne resigned to his position?

****

Elaerys was running through the halls looking for any signs of him but she failed, she visited the quarters of Kingsguard but he was no where to be seen. When she lost her hope, she saw her sister Rhaenyra walking fast towards her.

"Elaerys, Ser Gwayne he is on his horse going back to Oldtown, he resigned to his position" she informed.

"How did you know?" Elaerys looked at her sister the smiled cheekily.

"I tell you later, for now go and find Ser Gwayne and bring him back here." Rhaenyra said before turning back against her.

Elaerys wasted no time as she mounted her dragon Silverwing, as she settle on its back they immediately flee on the sky.

Silverwing was a quick dragon, looking down the ground she searched for any sign of him, she see a few men in horseback with their Hightower sigil, she lead Silverwing towards them.

Gwayne was occupied ever since they left in King's Landing, the King was curios and uneasy when he humbly resigned his position, he had to come up with several reasons. The King even mentioned how he did well on his job.

If he only knew.

He did not want to leave King's Landing, he did not want to leave her, but resigning and leaving his position is the only proper way he could ask for her hand.

His head turned when he heard a voice calling him from behind, he stopped his horse as he saw the princess dismounting her dragon.

"Ser Gwayne" she called her out, Gwayne dismounted himself from his horse as soon as she approached him.

"Princess, what made you come here?" He said bowing his head.

Elaerys raised an eyebrow, crossing her arm as she spoke. "Where are you going?"

His head remained face on the ground, a small smile forming on his lips. "Back to Oldtown princess, the King approved my resignation"

"You are sworn to me Gwayne" Elaerys uttered, she pushed back her hair as she continue "You took a personal vow to me, and now you leaving without even informing me?"

"I see the princess wasn't too intoxicated to remember that" he smirked, he stepped closer to her facing her intense gaze. "Tell me princess, do you wish for me to stay?"

This may be greedy or selfish of him, but he wants to hear her admit it, he wants to hear her say that she wish for him to stay, to stay and be close with each other.

"Gwayne do not leave me" Elaerys was able to utter those words earning a small smile from Gwayne.

"I will come back princess, I have to leave my position in order to properly ask for your hand" he explained, as he tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear.

He lay his forehead against hers, while he reached for her hand and pressed a kiss on her knuckles before guiding it to wrap around his neck. For a moment peace surrounded them, feeling the warmth of breathe of each other, their skins touching.

"This is how I always dreamed about you princess, leaning on each other, with your face close to me, hands intertwined" he described, his eyes dropping to her lips. He can feel the princess' pulling him closer, her lips claimed his.

Gwayne can feel his heart melt, his hands moved to cup her cheeks, this is all he could ask for.

Elaerys massage the back of his head as they kiss, her heart won't stop beating fast, when they pulled away both catching breathe. Elaerys was flustered after the kiss, she looked away from him her hand remained to where it is.

"Do not ever leave no matter in what circumstances Gwayne"

Gwayne held her chin, making her face him. "I truly haven't forgot my vow, princess" he chuckles.

Gwayne took her hand, as he kneel infront of her. "I am sworn to you Elaerys Targaryen, I will give my very last breath to no one but you, I shall offer my heart and soul to no one else but you..."

Gwayne looked up to her while he rose from his knee and place a kiss on the back of her hand.

"For I am yours princess."

*~🌼

[inkskinned]

no, but really, we need to talk about the casual objectification that has become the fallback discourse of the internet: if you're pretty and dressed nicely, you're a slut. and if you're even vaguely outside of their body standard, you're fucking disgusting.

too-frequently, people position sex workers as being "the problem". they sneer you're addicted to pornography, you don't know what a real woman looks like. but real women are in pornography. the real bodies on display are not the issue here: the issue is that other people feel extremely confident when commenting on someone's physique.

2000's super-thin is slowly worming its way back into the public ideal. recently i saw someone get told to "go for a run", despite the fact she was on the thinner side of average. not that it would ever be appropriate to say that: but it's kind of like sticker shock when you see it. people think that is fat? holy shit. do they just have no idea about things?

but what are you going to do about it? that's the problem, right. because chances are - you're a normal person. we can say normalize carrying fat on your body, but we are not the billion-dollar diet industry. we are not the billion-dollar fashion industry. we are just, like. people. who are trying to make content on the internet, without being treated shittily.

as someone who has been on both sides of things: you are treated better when you are thin and pretty. this is statistically correct. i am not saying that you cannot be bullied for being thin; i'm saying there are objective institutional biases against certain bodytypes. there are videos of men and women who lost weight all saying: i now know for a fact exactly how much worse you're treated. in the comments, some asshole inevitably says something akin to you deserved to be dehumanized when you were fat.

which means that ... the easiest thing to do is be pretty and thin. it is the path of least resistance, because of course it is, because any time you post a picture of yourself without a thigh gap, someone immediately comments something like you need to try a diet.

the other half is also dehumanizing though, huh, just in a different way. when i put on makeup and nice clothes, i am told i slept my way to the top as a professional. do you know how many women in STEM have told me they purposefully dress to "unimpress" because they already struggle to be taken seriously and if they're ever considered pretty - it for some reason takes away from their authority.

so they make it seem like it's your fault. you, existing in a body - it's your fault! if you didn't want shitty comments, don't have a body. they position us against each other like chess pieces; vying for male attention we don't even need.

and i can be an authority on this unless you think i'm fat and unattractive. when i am pretty and thin, i'm an activist. when i am just a normal person who makes a good point: i am immediately dismissed. nobody fucking believes you if you're not seen as attractive. you literally lose value. you cease to exist.

but the whole time, it feels like - is anyone actually grounded the fuck in reality? the line of "pretty and thin" keeps shifting. nobody seems to understand what "a normal weight" even looks like, because it's not something that exists - you cannot tell a person's health by looking at their body. even if you think you could tell that, even if you're sure a person is dangerously overweight - people are not your dolls. they do not need to be dressed up or displayed properly to soothe your aesthetics. you aren't concerned for them, you're stealing their agency. you don't get to say if they're "allowed" to take pictures and post them on the internet - you don't get to tell them how to exist.

people hide behind "the obesity epidemic" without any actual qualifications. they crow things about "normalizing unhealthiness".

but it's bullshit. i have visible abs. there is a pair of parallel lines on my body, even when i'm relaxed; where my obliques meet my abdominal wall. i am proud of this because it means i'm strong, because i overcame an eating disorder only to be ripped as fuck. it is genetic and physical luck that i even get any definition, i'm pleased as punch.

but it does mean that my abdominal wall sticks out a little bit. the other day i posted a video of myself dancing, and, for a moment, my shirt slipped. you could see a little bit of my stomach. i was cartwheeling to the floor. moments before this, i'd had my foot over my head.

a guy slid into my DMs. a row of vomiting emojis prefaced: you should really lose some weight before you think about dancing.

i stared at it for a long time. there was a time when i would have been triggered by this, where it would have encouraged me to starve myself. i would have ignored the fact i'm flexible, agile, good at jumping: i would have lost the weight for a stranger's passing comment. i would have found myself and my body fucking disgusting.

and for what? to please what? because why? so that he can exist in this world without an unchallenged eyeball? what would my self-hatred even accomplish? usually i write paragraphs. obviously. on this particular occasion, in this body i've been at war with for ages: i just felt exhausted.

it shouldn't be even worth saying. it shouldn't be hard to explain. all of this emotional turmoil when he cannot even comprehend the most basic truth: i am not an object on display for him.

[taintandviolent]

Trust ; Kai Anderson x virgin!reader

summary: Kai finds out that reader is a virgin, and decides he’s going to change that.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 2.3K | female reader, smut, use of y/n, mentions of God (referring to himself as God), coercion, manipulation/gaslighting, dub-con (kinda???), handjobs, loss of virignity, penetration (p in v), praise (though it’s Kai so… don't get too comfy with it, it's probably fake).

a/n: requested by @jazz-berry ages ago! I struggled a little bit with this one for reasons unbeknownst to me. anyway, I hope everyone enjoys it! divider by @/strangergraphics!!

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

“It’s not like anyone here is a virgin. Besides —“ 

“I am.” You blurt, without thinking. 

Being a virgin in your early twenties seemed horribly embarrassing— although it was your body, your choice and all that. Empowerment, wrapped up with a pretty pink bow of lingering innocence. Still, the last thing you wanted was Kai knowing that, and seeing you as any different. So why had you said it? 

Silent, he seemed to dwell on the thought he was having, though his face gave no indication of what it was; impassive, stoic even. 

“Y/N.” His voice is low, commanding. It’s the voice he uses before someone gets an opportunity to do something great for him. The voice he uses before he tests someone’s loyalty. He gets up from his chair and walks over to the table. 

“Sit with me.”

He gestures to the table you fear most. The pinky promise table. You’d never been summoned to the table, never stepped out of line, or perhaps never stuck out enough to be summoned. Now, you have apparently. 

You unfold your legs carefully and get to your feet, wiping your hands on the front of your dress, smoothing out the wrinkles that had settled from sitting down. The rest of the cult waits on bated breath, waiting to see what unfolds. Kai seems to realize this, and turns to them, waving his hand dismissively. “This meeting is over. You all know what you need to do.” 

You pause and turn with intentions of joining the others as they leave. Kai immediately stops you with a stern, large hand on the roundest part of your shoulder 

“Not you. Sit down.” He forces you down into the chair, your butt hitting the cushion hard. He joins you at the table, quietly and for a moment, only stares. Takes you in, like there are words written on your face and he’s reading them. Fuck. 

Finally, one hand comes up, pinky extended. You lean forward, obediently, and link pinkies with him, wrapping your smaller one around his. 

“Are you loyal to this cult?” 

“Yes.” Easy question. You were undyingly loyal, perhaps to a fault. 

“Why?” 

You swallow. “Because I believe in its cause. I believe in your —“ 

His grip on your pinky tightens. “Don’t lie to me. That’s not what we do at this table, is it?”

You swallow. It’s like he knows, like he’s clairvoyant and can pick through all the parts of your brain that you’re hiding. Dig around like a child in a box of crayons, searching for the right one. 

Sheepishly, you shake your head.

“Try again,” he breathes, adjusting his body slightly. Irritated?

“You. I’m loyal because of you… I believe in you. I feel like you can fix this country, you can be the man that guides us all in the right direction. When I’m around you, I feel… I feel like it’s right.” 

His closed lips stretch into a smile and he huffs out a laugh through his nose. You shift around uncomfortably, adjusting your elbow’s position on the table. He’s so hard to read most of the time, and when he does finally give you an indication, it’s usually horrifying. 

“Were you lying about being a virgin?” 

“No…. Why would I lie about that?” 

“To get my attention.” 

You furrowed your brows and shook your head again, this time slower. You were confused why that, of all things, would get his attention. “No, Divine Ruler. I am.” 

Still holding onto your pinky, he leans back into his chair. The action pulls you forward across the table and you let out a little mewl. 

“I knew you were special,” he starts, looking up at the pendant light that hangs above the table. “I knew, from the moment you became a part of my cause, that you were destined for more.” 

You almost choke at his next words. 

“And that’s why you need to let me take your virginity.” 

You can’t help but gawk, your bottom jaw falling. Had he just said what you thought? After all the missions, the campaigning, the rallying, and he’d never given any indication of personal feelings towards you and now he was going to fuck you? 

“I… I don’t know.” 

“Yes, you do. Do you think I’m stupid? You think I haven’t noticed the way you stare at me, hang on my every word?” 

He’d noticed. You gulped down your feelings, your pinky twitching in his grip. 

“You’ve even dressed for the occasion.” 

You look down at your attire as though it’s the first time seeing it; a modest, white, linen summer dress that buttons down the front. You’d picked it because of the weather. But Kai thinks otherwise. He lets go of your pinky and pushes his hands into the table to lift himself up. You watch, your eyes trailing like weights, as he moves around the table. 

“I am your God. Say it.” 

“You are… m-my God.” 

“And you trust in your God. You trust him to do whatever needs to be done.” 

Your voice wavers as you speak.  “I trust in my God. I trust him to do whatever needs to be done.” 

Kai takes your hand, lifting it. You raise with it, trying to control your nerves in a way that doesn’t betray them. So far, you’re failing. Sudden closeness brings a whimper from your mouth as Kai is hoisting you into his strong, toned arms. He sets you down on the table, wordlessly. Oh god, you think. He’s going to fuck me. 

Though terrifying, the thought tantalizes you and you can’t ignore the sudden wetness that’s pooling between your legs, soaking into the fibers of your cotton underwear. 

“You’re doing the right thing.” Kai says, low. His fingers brush your hair away from your neck, exposing it. You shudder in response. “You’re doing this for the greater good.” 

You don’t even know what that means, truly. Somewhere in your conscience, buried amongst the arousal, you know he’s manipulating you, coercing you but you can’t and won’t do anything to stop it. You don’t want to – and take a breath, inhaling the heady scent of him. You lean forward slightly, pouting your lips. 

“I am?”

“You absolutely are.” 

He’s so convincing. Your silly little brain buzzes with the contact as his hands trail up your thighs, scooping the dress up to your hips where it gathers in creamy, white pleats. Who are you to deny him? 

“You’re the most loyal follower I have, and you want me to do this. You’ve told me.” 

“No… I’ve never…” 

He tuts his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head. Insisting. “You’ve told me without telling me. I’m very in tune with my followers, Y/N.” 

You nodded, knowing full well that you had – it wasn’t some secret and if Kai had paid attention even a little bit, he would’ve noticed all the times you volunteered to be close to him, to please him, to praise him, and even worship him. 

It’s terrifying once his hands slip between your legs, tugging curiously at the elastic of your underwear. It’s terrifying, but you want to crush your mouth against his and suck on his bottom lip until it turns purple. Being aroused wasn’t new to you, you knew very well what that felt like. It was a feeling that consumed you almost every single time you’d been around Kai, almost as volatile of an emotion as jealousy when he’d pay attention to Meadow, or Winter, or any other female in the cult. 

“Look at that,” he says, low. Your cotton underwear, in a skin tone shade, is swinging back and forth, hung on his index finger. The wet spot that’s grown on the crotch is telling, embarrassing and unavoidable. Your head hangs heavy, like a scolded child. Kai presses a single finger to your chin, lifting it again and forcing you to look at him.

“Like I said, you’ve told me.” 

Kai moves quickly after that, undressing himself completely and standing proudly, not an iota of insecurity or doubt present. Unlike you. His large cock hangs heavy in front of you, having gradually stiffened at the discussion? At the thought of your virginity? Who knows. 

“Touch it,” he orders, and you respond by lurching your hard forward, drawn like a piece of metal to a magnet. Your hand closes around his semi-hard shaft. It’s warm to the touch and velvet soft. Instinctively, you begin moving your hand, jerking him off. 

“Good. Good.” He hisses. “You’re doing such a good job.” 

Praise. Praise from him feels like slipping into a warm bath after a long day, like sugar on the tongue, like the first buzzes of being very drunk. You’ve craved it for so long, and up until this point, have relied solely on superficial praises. Nothing like this. His hips jerk once, his cock twitching in your grasp. It’s stiffened almost to capacity now, and Kai rips his hips away from you, groaning deep in his throat. His eyes are locked on you; two, black ink wells that seem to go on forever. You swallow your nerves again, hoping he doesn’t notice. 

“Scoot closer,” he urges, pumping himself in and out of his tight fist. Beads of pre-cum dribble from the tip, which he quickly swipes over and drags down his shaft.

You obey, and shimmy yourself closer to the edge of the table until your toes almost touch the floor beneath you. Kai slots himself in between your thighs, holding one of them tight against his hip. He takes a moment to line himself up, smearing the flushed head against your slick folds. Your arousal spreads, coating the tip, which moments later, breaches your entrance, pushing deeper. It’s immensely painful at first; fire explodes between your legs in a searing, stretching sting, and you quite literally feel the rip as Kai steals your innocence, mercilessly.

“It hurts, doesn’t it? You’re being so brave. I’m so proud of you.” 

His dick twitches inside you, you can feel the subtle movement in your cunt. Then, without warning, Kai drives his dick all the way inside you, bottoming out in a flash of pain and an overwhelming sensation of fullness. In an out of character act of mercy, Kai notices how your face contorts, how delicately you’re wincing and trying to be brave. He pauses for a moment, letting you adjust to the new feeling. 

You swallow hard again and bring your hands up to his toned shoulders, finding a place of leverage where you can pull yourself up slightly to alleviate some of the pain. Most women, you assumed, had a vision of how their first time would go – and you supposed, at some point, you did too, but now, you’d forgotten it, enraptured by the feeling of your stuffed cunt, where the burn had subsided into a dull ache. The dull ache was hungry and brought you forward onto his cock, wiggling your hips slightly. 

“Are you ready?”

You nod, letting out a small squeak of approval. Kai back his hips out and you look between your legs; his thick cock is coated in clear fluid, your fluid. You see the look in his half-lidded eyes, heavy with lust and hunger. Holding tight onto your plush hip, he spears you again with his cock and this time, doesn’t stop thrusting. He finds a rhythm very quickly, and before you have time to process it, he’s pounding into you. Your pussy responds by getting wetter, adding more lubrication for the beating that your pussy is taking. Obscene, wet sounds fill the basement room, echoing in your mind to serve as a reminder of what’s happening.

“Good, good girl. You’re taking it so well.” 

You nod, pleasurable whines broken by the repeated force of his thrusts. You lean forward slightly, resting your head on his chest as he fucks you, your cheek pressed just above his pectoral muscle. Kai’s hands drift around your back, and one latches onto the back of your neck, pressing your face tighter against his body. You can’t tell if it’s an act of tenderness or one of malice – but your body responds by shuddering closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, too. 

It hits you suddenly; a pressure on your lower abdomen and a burning, but not the same kind of burn as before – it’s a new one. It feels like you’re holding back piss, but you know deep down you don’t have to. 

“Oh god,” you whisper. 

“What?” He asks, no concern in his voice. It’s more of an automated response than a caring one. 

“I feel like… I’m going to… oh god.” 

You feel Kai nod. “Good, let go.” 

The coil in your stomach winds tighter and after a few more thrusts, hitting a deep spot within you, snaps. You cry out as your cunt clenches around his cock, fluttering desperately in slick, dripping pulses. His thrusts get more feverish then, less controlled, and you feel the way his breathing hitches in his throat, his chest rising and falling with uneven pants. 

“Tell me what you want me to do,” he rasps. 

“I…” You hesitate. 

“Tell me, god damnit!” 

You jump and quickly stammer out an answer. “I want you to cum inside me! Please!” 

He does. Hard. 

In fact, he loses it so hard in you, pumping it deep inside your warm cunt that you feel it squeezing, dripping out the sides and pooling beneath you on the table. Kai doesn’t stop until his cock starts to soften within you, and only then does he pull out, backing his hips away from you. You whimper as his dick leaves you, but the physical contact remains. He still stands in front of you with a heaving chest, and strands of blue hair falling into his face.  

“Am I special, Kai?” 

“You are,” he responds, reaching up to brush the hair from your face. “And I’ll make sure everyone knows that.” 

[simp-ly-writes]

The Line

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.7)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Assistant!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: "Take a seat, But I'd rather you not be here for, What could be my final form, Stay your pretty eyes on course, Keep the memories of who I was before..."

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, protective!Jayce (to a fault), some fluff- mostly angst, AU - canon divergence, canon major character death, kissing, hurt no comfort, depictions of blood, gore, war and death. mentions of suicidal thoughts.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 4,292

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: ... 😃 live, laugh, loving over here hahaha (what have you done to me Jayce Talis?!/!>!) 😭

─────── · ·

─ · · You set the table, swinging your hips back and fourth to the music sounding throughout the apartment. Spinning yourself through to the living room to water the plants before looking over a rising Piltover, smile faltering once still seeing the rubble on the streets.

"Breakfasts ready, babe!" Jayce calls from the kitchen. You hear the burners click off as he walks over with various plates up his arm, "I never knew you to be a server?" you tease, extending your hands out to help but watch as Jayce takes a half step back, "the plates are hot, don't want you burning yourself," he explains, your heart swells but you scoff.

"Jayce, I've burned my hands from hextech more times than I can count and almost lost the fingers to count on too," you joke, "I'm sure I can handle a few warm plates-" all of them had been set on the table. "You best know that I'm helping to wash up afterwards," you press a finger to his chest. Jayce stares down at it with a smile, how could he refuse you? Jayce playfully picked your wrist up and tried to bite your finger, watching as you gasped and waged that finger through the air- teasing him before being pulled into his lap.

The morning so far restful as you share plate of food together, clinking your cups of coffee to celebrate the morning. Jayce leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck as you tilt your head back on to his shoulder with a giggle. "Your beard is ticklish, Jay."

He hums out, taking a sip of his coffee, drawing random patterns on your arm, "Can always shave it." You sit up, turning your torso sideways, "No," you speak seriously watching as Jayce's smirk becomes hidden behind the mug, "so you like the look, sweetheart?"

You stare at him, tilting your head, watching him sweat for a sec before kissing his cheek, "I do," you say before hiding your face between your hands once hearing him laugh at you.

"Save those words for when I actually propose," Jayce teases, setting his mug down, finger tapping the ring on your own finger as you spread yours to look at him. "Then I don't find you positively hideous," you retort. Jayce throws his head back laughing, the sound making your heat race just like his next words, "Gosh I love you and that mind of yours." He removes your hands from your face interlaces his fingers with your own, squeezing as your cheeks warm. With your first defence gone you move to hiding your face into the crook of his neck, "I love you too," you whisper.

─ · · Later that morning you washed the dishes as Jayce dried them beside you before leaving you to get some work done in his office leaving you with a kiss to your cheek. You kept yourself busy around the apartment in the meanwhile while waiting for him to return. Mel sent a letter earlier wanting to meet with you both and you couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed about having your's and Jayce's limited time together cut short... but duty always called...

─────── · ·

─ · · You and Jayce meet up with Mel later that day, on the elevator up to the council room you admire your new ring with a smile on your face. Jayce stares down at you his hammer groaning, its presence flickering in his palms as you wearily take a step back from it with an anxious smile. Jayce frowns, his forearm starting to burn once again, he grits his teeth- breathing heavily. "Jayce?" you question- your voice echoing the cave of his mind clouded in galaxies before your face suddenly emerges through the darkness like a tunnel of light.

Jayce sways back into reality, the doors open as you look between the empty councillors room and your boyfriend in concern, whatever happened last time appears to be worsening. He blinks through the pain before extending his hand, watching as you walk out ahead of him- he follows closely behind. His eyes keep shifting around the room beyond his control, vision a kaleidoscope of your form merging with Mel who looks as equally concerned, "Jayce?" you both call out to him.

He leans against the large stone table, gripping its edge with a sigh, "I'm fine," he grits out, fixing the grip on his hammer. You begin to place a hand on his shoulder before being shoved away- your head slamming against the floor as you groan out in pain, looking up confused and through hazy eyes to see a white-figure you think to be staring at Mel yet when its blank stare turns towards you, your heart drops as you scramble to move away.

You blink slowly once at a distance yet its attention has never left your figure even as Mel and Jayce attack it. You watch as the masked figure rotates its head to a complete 180 degrees, you scream in a panic once it escapes Mels magical shield and starts flying with force towards you. Jayce races to stand in front of you, grunting as he braces with the handle of his hammer and uses all of his might to push the creature away.

A sudden electric jolt pecks at your ear followed by a ringing; you lose your strength to stand or to flee as you grip your head in pain, the noise progressively gets louder- almost as if taking a bite out of the side of your head and then suddenly you think to be hearing Viktor's voice, listen to me, hear me. Blue flashes in your eyes spreading out in all directions- magic trying to chase the floating body that in any other still scenario would appear angelic.

Mel starts to pull the figure from behind. You watch as Jayce's arms shake, his head turns- looking back at you with concern as you appear to be dozing off- every blinking rapidly- inhumanly- Viktor's voice as clear as ever, There is so much progress I have to show you- for you to note. You feel yourself start to nod before your head falls, finger twitching as you try and grasp out to the floating figure but you stall, a voice calling out to you- words unclear as if screaming through a storm, (name), come back, don't you dare close your eyes on me!

You begin to look back yet Viktor starts to move the void, images playing out before your face as your mind finds a new clarity you hadn't felt before... any pain from your earlier fall forgotten about as endless charts of perfectly organized information and positive outcomes come before you- you gasp trying to grasp how all these results were possible, I refuse to lose you again!

The opposing voice becomes clearer by every minute that passes, you look up to Viktor who extends his hand again, Follow me, there is still so much to show you. But just as you float over a force grips your foot, hands moving up your leg to your waist, pulling you back as the fantastical images before you flicker back with reality.

Mel is screaming, eyes golden as her arms open- she uses her power to pry open the faceless creatures arms from around your neck. You gasp watching as Viktor stands right beside you, kneeling, his face seemingly ten times the size of your own as you flicker between realms. You can see Jayce gently trying to pull you away, his eyes clouded over, veins glowing iridescently yet his touch burns as Viktor's soothes and when you open your mouth to ask, nothing comes out.

Now that you think about it, you can't hear your heartbeat, or think to be breathing... but you somehow feel more alive than ever. Viktor somehow feels your thoughts as you think them, he nods, You are beginning to understand- always the quickest mind. But just as you feel Viktor's hand shadow over your face, you take a gasp of air. In an immense sweat as you look down at your shaking hands and feel around your body before trying to stand. "What the fuck just happened?" you ask, looking between Jayce who pants, his foot slammed down against a flattened white body and Mel who looks nothing short of traumatized.

"Y-you just died and came back," Mel says softly, as if untrusting her own thoughts as she grips her hands together, shaking her head. You watch as Jayce yells, gripping his hair, he looks to be having another reaction... perhaps like what you just witnessed... the moment comes and goes quickly though as he comes to look you over- face visibly pained as he holds you in his arms- apologizing to you again and again.

"I'm sorry, i'm so sorry, this is all my fault and I'm sorry," he says as "How is this your fault, Jayce?" you speak softly, rubbing your hands up and down his arms trying to comfort him before looking over at Mel. She nods, silently removing herself from the room and going to inform the enforcers of what just happened, you wait and listen for the doors to close. "Jayce?" you call out again as he places his chin atop your head, just enjoying the feeling of you in his arms... as if trying to remember you.

"Jayce?" you ask again, this time a bit more scared. "Let's take a walk," he states, his tone feeling distant- your heart drops, "o-okay," you say, taking a step back. A part of you waits for him to wiggle his fingers, point out his elbow for you to take... but he doesn't- your heart burns once more as you silently follow behind him, just like old times- the times you thought to had missed.

─────── · ·

─ · · "I've been confused about a lot lately, I've not been myself," Jayce begins to speak as you walk behind him, observing his broad shoulders and listening to how his boots chime against the tiles as you both look over the ports of Piltover; a seagull flying overhead. Various enforcers nod to you both before turning around and providing privacy that for once in your life feels suffocating by not knowing what comes next... or the change of what comes next from what you originally had in your mind.

You twist the ring on your finger, shuffling your feet as Jayce grips the balustrade that mark on his forearm looking more irritated. "So much has changed... you, me, this fucking job. I'm scared of what comes next... of..." Jayce can't continue the sentence, a part of him knows fate like the tattoo etched into his skin, of meeting you no matter the universe- even undead. And yet... and maybe the most probable answer of them all... he does not want to admit to himself- to look at you in the eyes and tell you outright that only one of you might make it or else the world you lived in would cease to exist just like the future he lived through.

Jayce grips his hands into fists, begging himself to continue speaking as he feels your anxious eyes on his back, reaching up to the side of his face. He hates scaring you like this, hates that he feels so weak and is strapped with endless responsibility. He cracks his neck before taking a deep breath and turning to face you. "Yet my girl, still with me..." you nod your head rapidly. "Of course, Jayce. I promised since day one." Jayce steps forwards, taking your chin in his palm, tipping your head up as he stares down at you- you part your lips. Partially embarrassed by how desperate you feel for him to comfort you.

"What would I be without you?" he says quietly before capturing your lips in order to distract himself from his thoughts. You melt into the kiss, thankful that is odd mood appeared to be over yet he pulls away too. quickly leaving you chasing after his lips, hands on his chest as you grip his vest. "Do you... regret anything?" your words barley a whisper the wind carrying them up to Jayce's ears as he hesitates before letting go a sigh, "No, with you- never. I just... I look back at myself and I can't believe why you would still want me."

You swiftly pull him into a hug, struggling to wrap your arms fully around him yet you squeeze him tight, "you said it yourself Jayce," you begin to explain; Jayce stays quiet, his hands hovering on your waist, "we've both changed but inside... I know you are the same man I fell in love with all those years ago. And it could only be ourselves now that could admit that to each other- we should be thankful."

You feel as Jayce nods, taking in your words, he closely examines your smile, the way your eye crinkle. He feels your grip- tight on him, grounding him. He blinks, remembering your kiss before entangling his fingers in your hair, enjoying the soft feeling between his fingertips, whatever it takes to protect you, he thinks to himself before pulling away and looking at an enforcer who looks between the two of you, shuffling on the spot. "Councillor Medarda arranged the council..." you look up at Jayce with concern watching as his chin rises, his eyes hardened but before he follows after the guard he takes your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles and squeezing your hand before letting go.

What the hell is he going to do, you ask yourself... and you don't even know if you want to know but you follow after him, endlessly and into the next room. You watch as he sits in one of the storage rooms, a chest plate being fixed to his chest, you shake your head watching as he places his coat over his shoulders- not even looking at you- his breaths struggling to even out. "What the fuck are you going to do Jayce Talis," you question in too even and cold of a tone at his back watching as he flinches- your stress levels are out of your mind as he moves to the council chamber doors.

He can't even look at you, your heart shatters, no, no, no, what are you going to do?! "Jayce-" you warn, ready to get on your knees and beg. Jayce freezes, hand still on the door knob. "Don't do this, Jayce, we have a future together! You... you promised me-" you cry out watching as Jayce twists the handle, shoulders tense and you can't breathe. You know yourself to be selfish in this moment but after every sacrifice you both have made over the years- the near death (and actual death) experiences, the blood, the horrors, and the tears. All you begged the world for was him and fate couldn't even promise you that. You scream out to the world- for everyone to hear- to suffer alongside you in this realization.

"I FUCKING HATE YOU," your words rip through your lungs as you stomp at the floor, gripping at your hair. "You- you fucking said you loved me, promised me forever- I let you hold me, kiss me, fuck me and this is what you fucking do?! You're leaving me to... to what- die? HOW COULD YOU. HOW DARE YOU. What would your mother think? Wait- did you even think? Jayce-" Jayce turns around, his eyes filled with fury... with pain, cutting you off.

"OF COURSE I'VE FUCKING THOUGHT ABOUT IT- ITS ALL IVE BEEN DOING. Going after Viktor one last time is all I can do to ensure there is a world for you to live in for everyone to live-" Jayce's hammer slams against the floor as you stand up straight, sobbing, your future ahead of you blurry as you blink quickly trying to see him more clearly.

"Everyone but you, Jayce- thats not fair! I don't want to live! Not without you Jayce, you're such a fucking idiot-" you start to twist off the ring, throwing it in his face. "IS THIS WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF JAYCE?" you laugh through your cries- becoming hysterical.

"I. watched. you .die. I won't let that happen again," Jayce roars taking three steps forward as you take three steps back, shaking your head. Jayc cries, slamming his fist against the door, the council quiets- you can hear all of their muttering come to a stop. "Go, just go," you spit out, leaning and falling against a pillar bringing your knees up to your chest. Jayce opens and closes his mouth, hand twitching down at his side to reach out and touch you- to comfort you.

Your eyes are filled with nothing put pure hurt and rage as you stare at him, disgusted at yourself. Jayce turns around, nodding his head, "I love you," he says quietly, the words echoing down the empty halls. "I know... and thats the part that hurts the most. How much I still fucking love you and know that... that you are going to be gone, chose to be gone."

You don't look to see if he caught your words, only listening to how the large oak doors slam behind him. You look out through the window, past the panes and see that blue sky again crying alongside you as the sun glows... there was a part of you that wished to stay in that cell now... maybe Ambessa was right all along, you truly were weak.

─────── · ·

─ · · You couldn't go back to your house knowing your bed still smelled like Jayce. You couldn't go to the lab because that would remind you of Viktor so you went down to the docks, watching as the rich fled overseas as you sat on a bench, eyes dead watching as the sun rose and warmed your face like a synthetic kiss.

─ · · Jayce hadn't slept that night, your screams and voice yelling in his ear keeping him restless and at some point in the morning he felt around his bed for you, feeling sick once grasping cold sheets. He closed his eyes, imagining the weight of you on his chest and not the pressure of the gods on his shoulders. He imagined to feel your kiss on his cheek, your skin on his skin- a tear streamed down his cheek that he blinked away before rising out of bed, dressing himself and heading down towards the council room.

He hated that your last memories together wouldn't be what he wanted, you and him smiling, enjoying your time together. Instead he would die remember your tears, feeling your sorrows as equal and even more powerful than his own. He would die remembering your hateful eyes staring back into his... he would... die... but he had to shut off the hexgates, hand to kill what he started, had to say goodbye.

Jayce wanted nothing more than to be selfish but he knew the outcome if he were to do so. If he were to not tell you anything, to not leave you hurting but you would be dead like everything and everyone else or... he could just remove himself, the biggest mistake of them all. Jayce blinked back tears of desperation, it has to be done. Jayce overlooked Piltover for what could be the last time as he touched the tattoo on his forearm, closing his eyes to feel the sun kiss his face, I love you, he waited for you to hear it before opening his eyes with determination, I will not fail you.

─ · · You watched as the massive ships barley came into view before picking yourself up and seating yourself in a convert heading outside of the city- it would not stop until the sounds of bloodshed and violence could no longer be heard. You grasped Ximena Talis's hand in your own as she cried into your shoulder, you could feel the weight of her pain sitting heavy in your own chest- you both knew the outcome of today. "Why must the good always suffer so? Die so- so..." Jayce's mother sobbed, he words caught up as you leaned your head atop of hers- your words bitter, "Because seemingly there can only be so much good in this world before there is a need for evil."

─ · · Jayce could hear as the building shook... the opposition was already here. He looked towards Mel, to Caitlyn and Vi, his heart destroyed at the lack of your presence but he knew you were going to be safer in whatever city you headed into. He made sure that all the connections he made as Councillor knew about you, would offer you an opportunity for a new life at the sight of your face, a life that he was no longer a part of.

Jayce knew that the choices he made were wrong, all the choices he made up until now were wrong but he needed you, fuck, he needed you right now and always. Your ring was swinging down from his neck on a chain tucked underneath his shirt. The tattoo of your combined vision forever painted into his skin that also created what would be your undoing forever. He shook his head, if he didn't do this, didn't present to the council, didn't make weaponry... he would be probably standing at the end of the isle waiting for you; that little girl in the front row, his mother smiling at you both...

The hammer hummed in his hands as he propelled himself at Viktor. His pain and loss fuelling every swing, every cry against his old partner. He hated himself for not being a stronger man to let you go and watch you be happy with another, he hated the council for forcing him to make these rash decisions that he always used to be against. He hoped his hate would propel him just as far as his enemies, make them feel his pain.

─ · · You heard as the carriage suddenly stopped, your heart dropped in your chest as screams erupted from the group, white figures flying over- rustling the trees as you shook your head in disbelief, they were back. You hugged Ximena tightly- whispering into her ear, "thank you for giving me a home." She gripped you tight, "thank you for being the daughter I always dreamed of." And then... you felt nothing but the slight cold touch of fingers against your temples and neck before the world turned black.

─ · · Jayce flicked into space, his body illuminated by the rays of a thousand stars. He felt his mind powered, every thought easy and simple just flowing through his head... as if they were not his own. Jayce grips himself, forcing his mind to come back to him yet his eyes stagger him with disbelief seeing what looked to be an entity... and entity floating a million souls that was Viktor.

"So this is what you see? This is perfection?" Jayce asks, floating and spinning, observing the city of souls before him... a dark part of him wonders if one of these are you. Seemingly sensing his thoughts Viktor nods before explaining, "They want better lives but emotion clashes with reason. Everyone is living a perfect life here, one without the wrong choices or thoughts-" Viktor's arcane voice drifts throughout time and space, echoing endlessly in Jayce's ears.

"This is not perfect," Jayce shakes his head, vision of you coming to mind, your relationship and all its bumps, bruises and pitfalls. "There is beauty in imperfections; an inseparable piece of everything." Jayce feels himself blinking between consciousness and unconsciousness, floating over to plate a hand on Viktor's shoulder, "I thought what I wanted was to bring magic to everyone in the world... but now... all I want is to feel the cool breeze through the window- entering the lab and waking up to seeing us three together."

Viktor takes a breath for the first time, he feels the cool morning air, see's the sky flicker before his eyes. He hears you laugh, shaking him awake, the smell of coffee in his face, the sight of you and Jayce dancing together in the laboratory to a record. He thinks back to that night in the wings of the stage, the feeling of your hand in his, the sight of your smile laughing as you cheered Jayce on... he laughs himself remembering when Heimerdinger tried to get you both engaged... you were his best friend, he loved you, but he could never imagine in any lifetime taking you and Jayce away from one another.

Viktor turns his head over his shoulder, "thank you for showing me this," his throat feels heavy with the words alongside his body- yet ready to do what is needed to be done, "but you must go now, Jayce." The celestial body within him still can see to the future, a glimpse of yours and Jayce's faces flash before his eyes- he smiles happy to know you are happy then- that Jayce will be happy then.

Taking the rune out of his skin, Jayce places it in Viktor's palm, watching as the glow illuminates and starts the vanish the darkness of space, "no, we finish this together, as partners," Jayce declares, ready to live through or rather die on his words.

Viktor shakes his head, placing a hand on his shoulder, "we would be forgetting another who stood for just the same work we did. Their heart waits for you... I-I can see it." Jayce's eyes squint past tears as he chokes back a sob, his lip quivers as he takes in Viktor's words. Viktor nods, pulling Jayce in for a hug, knowing his time to be approaching.

"Tell her that I miss her, that I loved her..." Viktor says. Jayce nods understanding his words, the place in which they come from. "I will... I will," Jayce speaks through sobs, gripping Viktor for one last time before letting go. He see's his skin turn gold as he circles around Viktor heading upwards in the funnel.

Viktor tilts his head upwards, sending off one last smile before closing his eyes as Jayce does the same.

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: IM DONE CLASS FOR THE YEAR!!! happy endings + this story = coming soon...

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

[lyvhie]

hi requesting a jeno x reader where jeno is so strong compared to reader and he gets turned on by that and it results in him manhandling reader -🦋

boyfriend!jeno × fem!reader (18+ mdni)

summary: had a bad day? don't worry, he'll make it better.

a/n: so, FIRSTLY, i actually didn't understand the concept of manhandling in a sexual situation, but i tried my best after doing some research, i'm sorry if that's not what you wanted 🥺 i can try another one if you don't like it!

cw: smut, pwp, unprotected penetrative sex, petname.

jeno wasn't sure when exactly he started to feel this way, but whatever it was that drove him crazy and made him feel so intensely was all your fault.

you were tiny, small, delicate—so much that he couldn't help but want to... break you. he knew he was stronger and bigger than you, and he couldn't help but feel the desire to exert that strength over you. it wasn't in a bad way, of course, but at first he was hesitant about that, like, what if you actually broke?!

however, you weren't quite so naive either. you had noticed his subtle glances at your neck, the certain intent in his gaze suggesting he wanted to wrap his hands around it as soon as he could.

and you were partly to blame; for example, you had toyed with him by squeezing his bicep or wrapping his arm around your neck in a side hug, all small, innocent actions that seemed purposely designed to provoke him further.

and then you gave him the chance to fulfill his desires. first, it started with just restricting your movements, like pinning your hands above your head with just one hand while the other held your waist to keep you in place as he was too busy burying his cock inside you.

then, it became him wrapping his hand around your neck, just light squeezes that were already making him thril inside, seeking for more, and you were more than happy to submit yourself to it.

he enjoyed seeing you helpless under him, and that's why, after a seemingly harmless discussion about "how was your day," you ended up bent over the kitchen counter. his hand pushed your face down against the cool surface—a small hint of dominance and control that leaves you feeling vulnerable and exposed.

the skirt of your dress was lifted until he had a nice view of your ass. your panties draped around your ankles as he thrusts into you from behind. the wet sound of his cock sliding through your slick folds was all you could hear, besides your loud moans, of course. “y-you should see yourself right now,” he said hoarsely, “all dumb because of my cock. does it feel good, huh?” he leans over you to lightly bite your shoulder, not really getting an answer from you.

feeling you body respond positively, jeno slides his hand around your neck and applies just enough pressure to make you gasp. he leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he says, "is this what you wanted? to be completely at my mercy?" not able speak, you nod frantically, your pants turning into whimpers. he squeezes tighter, controlling your air flow carefully as he continues to pound into you, each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making it difficult for you to breathe properly.

he groans when he feels your walls clenching around him, indicating that you were close, "let go, baby," he encourages hoarsely, his teeth grazing your earlobe and quickens his pace, his hips slamming into yours. he feels his own release building up, his muscles tensing with anticipation. he releases your hands and grabs onto your waist instead, pulling you back into him as he thrusts even harder.

your hands were holding the edge of the counter as you try to hold on, your body shaking from the intensity. jeno's finds its way to your clit, rubbing slow circles as he continues to choke you. seeing you like this drives him wild, knowing he's the one making you feel so good. "come for me, baby" he murmurs huskily, increasing the pressure on your sensitive bud. your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your whole body convulsing as you cry out out his name. he follows shortly after, emptying himself inside you with a final grunt.

you stay like that for a moment, both trying to catch your breaths before jeno slowly removes his hand from your neck and pulls out of you, his seed dripping down your thighs. “wow, that was… wow,” you said still panting, making him chuckle and spins you around to face him, catching you when your legs buckle slightly. “are you good?” he asks softly, cupping your face and caressing your cheeks. “yeah, i think i'll always tell you that my day was terrible if that's your way of comforting me.”

[genderkoolaid]

in what way, if any, do you think that indulging kinks is different than making jokes as far as emplanting/reinforcing ideas in the mind? do you think that being a sexual sadist makes you more permissive of nonconsensual violence?genuine question, feel free to ignore or answer privately if this is too thorny.

OKAY I have tried to write this 4 times now here we go!!!! This time it will NOT get deleted!!!!!!!!

This is a really good + important question so I am glad you asked! To me, it comes down to context and critical self-reflection.

Kink, done properly, occurs in a very specific and frank context. You discuss what a scene will look like beforehand, and then you discuss what happened and each person's experiences afterward. Proper kink requires blatant discussions of what is wanted and what is to be avoided, and the consent of all parties is what helps create this context.

Humor, on the other hand, tends to live in a hazy grey area between truth and lies. We like to think that because jokes are jokes, this means they are completely detached from our world. But humor has a social function. It helps bring people together, as well as delineate divisions. And it also helps us dip a toe into a certain feeling without having to discuss the feeling itself.

To give an example, let's talk about bees and wasps.

Say there is a person named A. A generally thinks of themself as liking animals and the natural world. They are against climate change and pro-biodiversity, although they don't really know a ton about these topics. They see people making jokes about wasps vs. bees: bees are sweet pollinators just trying to enjoy the summer, while wasps are angry assholes who will fuck your wife. A finds these jokes funny, especially having learned about how important bees are but having always been afraid of wasps. A also begins making jokes about how wasps have no purpose, they just exist to ruin your day, and should be killed. A finds themself joking about how we should really just kill off all wasps, since they are evil and worthless creatures. When A sees a wasp, they feel nothing but fear and the desire to kill it painfully. If they hear about something is causing mass death amongst wasps, they think its probably a net positive for everyone.

A was clearly biased against wasps from the beginning, which isn't really their fault; wasps can be scary and hurtful! The jokes seem to reaffirm their feelings as natural, socially valid, and even funny. But as I'm sure many of my followers know, wasps ARE pollinators and are quite important to the environment, as well as having the inherent worth that all creatures do. It's rather contradictory for A to both say they value biodiversity, while also devaluing an entire group of creatures and being okay with, or even advocating for, their extinction.

It is fully possible for A to dislike wasps, AND value biodiversity. The problem is that A does not really know how to apply their values to the world and their actions. They generally have beliefs, but those beliefs do not form a bedrock they can reference. Their values and their actions are not in conversation.

To take it back to what you were discussing: properly done kink always involves conversation between values and actions. The values are consent, risk-aware safety, and mutual pleasure/satisfaction/positive experiences. Knowing these values and what they mean, the people involved can talk about what they want to do and how those actions will relate to those values. When a sadist is hitting someone in a scene, they know that this is happening because they have created a context in which that action aligns with their values. And if someone does find that they are being shaped negatively by kink experiences, they can recognize that and choose to stop.

I believe there is a problem with people not truly knowing what they believe or value, and/or not truly knowing how their beliefs/values interact with the world and their actions. And when you combine that with the ambiguity of jokes, the way we are encouraged to see jokes as something separated from the "real world," and the way they can encourage people to follow their gut feelings and reaffirm them as socially valid and true, you get. well. bad times! radicalization! Oops All Assholes!

I just made a post that was kind of an example of this. I watched Megan Thee Stallion's documentary and joked about how she should be allowed to kill indiscriminately. When I think about making those kinds of jokes, I am keeping in mind:

Killing individuals doesn't solve systemic issues

I value transformative justice over punitive justice

I generally avoid making these- humourously communicating my anger at injustice into calls for violence- because I am conscious that jokes aren't "just jokes." This doesn't mean I NEVER do it. It's not, like, radioactive. Making a joke won't corrupt me a la the One Ring. But I make a choice to steer myself away from that kind of humor. Because I don't want to create that kind of thought pattern; because I am being conscious of the distinction between feeling and value, of catharsis and justice; because I don't want to connect with others on the basis of a belief I don't actually hold and am just putting on to express frustration; and because, in the case of other jokes, regardless of their impact on ME, they can still hurt other people. Even if you feel like you can make small dick jokes and still genuinely believe body-shaming is bad… if your jokes still have the impact of body-shaming people, then your values aren't really having an impact on your actions, at which point they are meaningless.

[xamag-draws]

BBR thoughts 2024

Since I mentioned that I finally dusted off an old project of mine and was ruminating on how I'd remake it, I thought I'd elaborate a little, now that I've solidified some concepts. For funsies

This is gonna be a bit of a long and unfocused one, but I don't share my personal thoughts here often, especially the stuff about my projects I always marinate in. And for once it's something that people have existing context for, so hey why not

So for anyone who hasn't been following me for a gajillion years, The Black Brick Road of OZ was a webcomic that I posted around 2013-2015, back when I was in highschool going on college (which is kinda crazy to think about). It was sort of a darker twist on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, although I definitely leaned a lot more into dark humor more than anything in those first few chapters

I don't think it's available to read anywhere anymore, and I know people have been asking me about it. So here's the full proper archive of BBR, as full as it can be with deceased Flash

I totally used it as an excuse to shamelessly and self-indulgently experiment. It had interactive pages and GIFs and was wayyy too overproduced for what I could handle or what was necessary, but I did have great fun making it while it lasted

Unfortunately, that excess and the fact that I've changed too much as a person by the time I was in college is what ultimately killed it. The direction I wanted to go in was practically unrecognizable from the original idea started back in 2011, so there were many old hold-ups that I felt ruined it

At the time I kinda wished I could start/rewrite it all over, but considering that I pretty much had the entire script done at that point, it felt like a pointless sisyphean task. So I just put it on a shelf and didn't look back for about 8 years, because I didn't know what else to do

Now to be fair, the nature of my art has always been iterative and cyclical; when I feel like my creative juices have run dry I prefer to leave a project to marinate and move on to something else; cycle through other old things and bring in new skills and perspectives into the mix when I'm ready again. Not very productive, but it is what makes me happy to work on my OCs; I'm doomed to hit a wall with them eventually and I need some time to be able to find a new direction

So that said, I'm glad that BBR was left to marinate for that long. I don't think I was prepared, emotionally or intellectually, to tackle it again until now. The Wizard of Oz book (and the entire series of them, really) has always been near and dear to my heart, but there's a lot of context around it that I'm only unpacking now that I'm older

I think I always inherently feel negatively about the stuff I've made in the past, like its faults always jump out to me more than the positives, especially the more time passes. I've never liked that, and I do really appreciate the kind things people have to say about BBR to this day. The fact that it still can be recognized and remembered is very sweet

When I left it, I already found it "kinda cringe", and that feeling only deepened with years. When I took my first look back at it, asking the question "how would I rewrite it now?", at first I took a very cynical approach, as in "everything would have to be torn down"

But the more I sat on it, the more I found that I still see some merit and charm in the ideas I was putting out; I just didn't know how to execute them at the time (not to pretend that I know what I'm doing now, but I certainly know more at least). Turns out a lot of my old concepts could be changed substantially with just a few small tweaks. So I'd say that's a nicer way to think about my previous work

If you haven't seen yet, I posted a first draft of my new designs for some of the characters (the main group, the Goods and the Wickeds). Definitely subject to change, but more or less how I see them now

I'm just playing with these concepts; by no means would I attempt to remake BBR right this moment. Call it a pipe dream among my other ones. But just for fun, this is the direction I'd like to take:

Nowadays I'd probably make it a visual novel, with more emphasis on the visual part than the novel because I'm no English prose writer by any means. It'd still let me play a little with the interactivity while helping cut some corners on the drawing part (only some, I imagine I'd go hog wild anyway)

I've always intended for some events inspired by the sequel books to take place in BBR's past. Stuff like Jinjur's revolt or Ozma's rule preceeds the main events here. So I think it would be fun to follow the past of a few key characters alongside the main story. One chapter focusing on the present quest to see the Wizard, then one focusing on the past events (that are maybe reflective thematically); rinse and repeat

I'm also sticking a little closer to the original text in some regards. Not everything that I enjoy from the books would be translated here, it's still just a very loose fantasy on the material; but I'd like to be closer in spirit at least

I like mature, wise and powerful Glinda, I like kind and vulnerable Tin Man, I like the Wizard being a pathetic yet loveable liar, so I'm sprinkling in more of that for example

I'd like to keep some whimsy, but make it more grounded and a bit more serious to be coherent in tone. I think the original TWWOOZ book was a more realistic fantasy in some ways, even for the standards of the time; I like its simple but vivid tactile descriptions and details like bringing attention that Dorothy needed to eat and sleep

I find it funny that Baum specifically was averse to making his books scary or unpleasant, finding that unnecessary for telling a compelling kids story, but they still can get pretty dark and disturbing, at least for our modern sensibilities. Let's just say that I intend to use the Evoldo and Chopfyt storylines for my purposes. In that way, I feel like a "darker" Wizard of Oz retelling can still mostly be tonally in line with the original and balance it with enough heart and occasional humor

I slowly grew to appreciate the quaint old-timey quality of the original series, as well. The first book is both timeless and very much a product of the 1900s. Originally I tried to give it a little modern or at least anachronistic spin, but it was moreso because it's what I knew best, so these days I'd rather intentionally lean into the time period. Still not fully historically accurate by any means, but at least directly acknowledging the influence

The events of the story span across 40 years of these characters' lives, so I'm drawing inspiration from the entire so-called La Belle Epoque: the time period around 1880s-1920s. Basically I'm cooking, and my soup is old Victorian fashion morphing into Edwardian fashion and slowly inching towards flappers

Some new Dolly outfits

Lots of crazy things, political changes and innovations were happening at the turn of the century, which I think is noted and reflected by Baum in the books as well; the character of Tik-Tok might not blow any minds now, but he was one of the first robot characters in literature at that point; and don't even get me started on Jinjur, etc. Plenty of really interesting stuff one could lightly ponder in an Oz adaptation these days

Aesthetically, art nouveau has always been a big artistic influence for me, and it'd definitely be its time to shine here. John R. Neill's illustrations of the Oz books often keep me company as well. Nouveau architecture in particular fits that fairytale whimsy extremely well imo

I'd allow myself a little bit of art deco here and there, but ultimately its intimidating geometrical splendor is an antithetical to the flowery nature of nouveau and I associate it with a completely different era. Definitely fitting some characters like my Wicked Witch of the West, but shouldn't be overused

One of my main problems with the original BBR was that eventually I lost track of what it was even about; and the original ending felt too mean and unfulfilling to be worth it. Now I'd like to stick to the theme of home and family as my main theme, but in a different, more bittersweet way than in the book

An interesting connection I made is that a lot of my aforementioned older key characters (the Witches, Jinjur, the Nome King, etc) all came from the same reformatory as kids, that's how they know each other. In my recent research I learned that in those reformatories it was usually frowned upon to release the children back to the families, which were seen as the original corrupting influence regardless of the circumstance. The reformatory did everything in its power to cut that connection and make itself the only family those wayward kids were supposed to know and love. That's an unexpected tie into the theme of home that I'd like to explore as well

So yeah that's the current state of it. I have a bunch of outfit concepts I'm slowly cooking, although I'm now sure whether I'd post them... But I do miss these funny guys, and I'm glad some people still do as well :)

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— Yeehaw' it's cowgirl era!

pairings: leah williamson x reader

summary: readers' in her cowgirl era as she goes to nashville with leah and her family, she tries to contain her excitement, but its' too much to handle at the end of the night.

↪ this is my fav one shot to write, because I love country music!

and as always thank you to @alotofpockets for the help/inspiration to keep going with this fic!

"I'm so tired, why's the airport so noisy?" You grumble in complaint, all you want to do is sleep but with the news around the airport, its' difficult to do that.

You're tired, so tired. You weren't going to miss the chance to speak to your best friend in Australia though.

Stupid time zones really do suck.

"Well, that's what you get when you don't sleep, monkey," Leah chuckles, glancing at you while you are curled up on the floor.

"Its' not my fault though-- Kyra phoned me!" You whine in protest.

Leah chuckles and shakes her head, "Surely you can't be comfy down there?" She wonders, trying to understanding your reasoning to lie on the floor.

"Its' fine," You murmur, keeping your eyes shut and trying to ignore everyone around so you can sleep.

"Why don't you come and sit up here, love?" Berny, Leahs' grandma suggests, "You can't be comfortable down there."

"M' fine here," You repeat, trying to be as polite as possible.

"Shes' fine, Grandma. I'm happy for monkey to sleep wherever as long as I don't have to chase after her," Leah tells the older women, speaking nothing but the truth about the matter.

"What?" Jordan, Leahs' older cousin chuckles.

Leah exhales a sigh and locks her phone from where she's previously scrolling through Instagram, "Monkey likes to do this thing where she bolts, at literally any single chance that she gets. So as long as she's not making me run after her then I'm fine with that," She explains to them both.

Jordan blinks her eyes in confusion, "Uh, er, what?"

"Don' make me move, I'm comfy!" You whine from your position on the floor still.

"See?" Leah gestures to you with an amused smile, "Be grateful shes' not trying to pet the dogs over there." She adds.

"That was one time!" You exclaim in protest.

You try pet a few dogs' in the airport and suddenly everyone starts to make a big deal out of it, pft.

All you wanted to do was say hi to them.

You like animals, so what?

"I have so many questions right now," Jordan remarks.

Leah chuckles amusedly, "Well, we might be here a while then."

"The floors' not comfy anymore," You complain, huffing in annoyance.

"I thought you said it was?" Leah teases you at your own expense.

"Well now I'm not and everyones' been too loud," You whine in frustration, scrambling to get up from the floor, "Everyone needs to shuuuut up!"

"Uh, Le, is she okay?" Jordan turns to look at Leah in concern.

"Oh, yeah, this is just monkey being well, this is just monkey being her normal self-- Ooft, I didn't think you'd literally flop yourself down on me there," Leah groans as she feels your whole body weight completely slump down on her.

You let out a yawn and rest your head on her shoulder, "You make a comfy pillow, so deal with it." You state.

"But, you know..." Leahs' words are cut short by you.

"Shush, you're bein' too loud, Le," You grumble, not happy with her continuing to yap in your ear when you just want to sleep.

"Oh you poor baby," Leah mocks you.

"Mean Malfoy," You murmur under your breath, but it's still loud enough for the blonde to hear.

"What-- Whos' Malfoy?" The blonde's completely thrown off by the namedrop of a certain character.

"You are," You don't hesistate to admit.

"What? I am... I am not--" Leahs' still in disbelief to even realise that you'd managed to drop off to sleep while using her shoulder as a pillow, "Oh, she's asleep. Would you look at that?" She mutters.

"Must've been tired," Berny chuckles, amusedly.

"I still-- I... I don't look like him," Leah is still continuing to have a full blown crisis over the newfound nickname, "Do you guys think I look like Malfoy?" She questions, confused.

"Hey, monkey. You're quiet," Leah pokes her head around the door to check in on you, after not hearing much from you since you had all arrived at the hotel, "Whatcha up to?" She questions.

"Watchin' Black Widow," You pause the current film your watching and  peer your head up from your iPad, "Wouldn't it be so cool to have Widow Bites?" You wonder.

That would definitely be so cool.

Apparently Leah thinks different by her facial expression.

"I think I'd fear for everyones' safety around you with them things," Leah remarks, shaking her head in disagreement, "What would you even use them for anyways?" She asks.

Shrugging your shoulders, you fumble with the strings of your hoodie, "Hurt my enemies and stuff, ye know'?" 

"Enemies?" Leah questions in amusement.

"I got 'em, Le. Loads of 'em!" You tell the blonde.

Leah continues to look at you bewildered, "Right, oookay then. Well, we're gonna get ready to head to the festival soon, so are you ready to go?" She wonders.

"Uh huh, just watchin' this to kill the time-- Ooh! I still need one of them fancy hats!" You exclaim in realisation, jumping up from the bed.

"Slow down there cowgirl," Leah chuckles, making the reference to the jumper that you're wearing, "I've got you covered." She gestures to the cowboy hat which she just so happens to have in her hand before she plonks it on top of your head.

"Yeehaw! Howdy there partner!" You beam a wide grin as you try and put on the perfect accent.

The blonde continues to laugh in amusement, "You are something else sometimes, monkey," Shaking her head, she slings her arm around your shoulder, "C'mon, lets' go and find my family." She adds.

"Whatcha mean by that?" You turn your head to look at her in confusion.

"Well, you've heard the phrase 'one sandwich short of a picnic', right?" Leah explains to you as the two of you start to head out of the hotel room.

"Uh huh," You nod your head slowly in understanding.

"You're that sandwich, monkey," Leah states as she smiles.

Now its' your turn to look at the blonde bewildered, "What? I--"

"Anyways, let's go before we're late!" Leah interjects, tugging you in the direction to go and meet her two family members down in the lobby of the hotel.

"Whoa!" Your eyes are lit in excitement as you take in the sight around you of the festival, "We're in Nashville!"

"We are indeed, monkey," Leah chuckles in amusement, using her usual nickname for you since your well, a cheeky monkey.

The blonde also has another nickname though, menace, but that's usually referred to when you're being well, a typical little shit in her eyes.

So, most of the time... You guess.

You still to look around at the atmosphere in awe, "Whoa! This is so cool!" You whisper in awe, not actually believing you were here right now, "Like, I can't believe we're here-- It's so awesome, isn't it?" You turn to the blonde for her answer.

"I can see somebody's excited, huh?" Leahs' grandma, Berny chimes in as she watches you take it all in.

"Hey!" You gasp excitedly, spotting a girl nearby who just so happens to be wearing the same boots as you are, "That girls' got the same boots that I've got! We're totally matching!" You can't help but squeal.

"That's bound to happen here monkey," Leah remarks as she rests her hand on your shoulder and you sense that she's got something to say, "Listen, I know you're excited to be here, but I don't want you to be running off at all, alright?" She questions, knowing just what you're like.

"C'mon Le, I know that. I'm no idiot!" You dramatically whine.

"I didn't say that, but you know, sometimes you get distracted--" Leahs' words are cut short when you do in fact get distracted.

It's only a matter of seconds before it would happen.

"Look, they've got Churros!" You gesture over to a nearby van that's selling them and try to walk off in that direction.

"Ah, ah, no you don't," Leah's quick to yank hold of you by the back of your jumper, "See? This is exactly what I mean!" She states, firmly.

"But there's Churros, Le-- Churro's are life!" You all but insist, you couldn't get enough of the sugary treats.

"Don't even think about running off, menace!" The blonde is quick to warn you seeing that it looks like you're keen to bolt in that very minute, "I can see that look in your eye!" She adds.

However, the blondes' made the rookie error of letting go of you as they start to walk over to enter the arena where the music would be, at least the blonde still thinks you're following behind her.

Only for her to turn round and her eyes' widen when she realises you had not followed her at all, but went wandering off because of course, when there's Churros around... It's an easy decision to make.

So you bolted, running right in the direction for them without even second guessing it.

"Where the hell has she gone?!" Leahs' throwing her hands up in the air and looking fed up already, not even making it near the arena yet and you're already up to your old tricks, "I swear to god, I need to put a tracker on that girl!" She grumbles under her breath.

Both Berny and Jordan can't help but laugh, "You've got your hands full there, huh?" Her cousin jokes.

"Yeah, you're telling me," The blonde pinches the bridge of her nose, "I need to go find her, I'll be back." She huffs, very much not in the mood to deal with your antics.

And here Leah thought you will be tame tonight...

Ha, no.

"Good luck, love," Her grandma tells her, amusedly.

Leahs' shaking her head in annoyance, wandering through the various food vans' to get to where you where, currently being served the battered sweet treats, "There you are, menace! C'mere!" She states, annoyed.

You whip your head round and give the blonde a cheeky grin, "Le, look. Check out all the Churros I got! Do yer' want one?" You offer one out to the blonde, completely unaware of how peeved she is.

"What, no, I do not want one. What I want is for you to stop wander off," Leah looks at you in disbelief as she is quick to yank hold of the back of your jumper, "C'mon, now!" She states, firmly.

"Sooo, you don't want a Churro then?" You repeat the question, clearly not getting the idea of how annoyed Leah was, "Oh well, more for me then..." You shrug your shoulders and continue to shove it in your mouth.

Keeping a hold of you in one hand to not make the same mistake for you to run off again, Leah uses her other hand to rip the Churro out of your hand and toss it in a nearby bin, "You know you shouldn't be eatin' that many. You're going to get sick!" She tells you.

"But they're so good though!" You whine in protest.

Leah shakes her head, "No, no, that's enough of them. I'm not dealin' with you being sick. You know what you're like with that much sugar!" She states, firmly.

"COUNTRY GIRL, SHAKE IT FOR ME, GIRL," You sing along to the lyrics of the song that's currently being performed at the top of your lungs, having the best time of your life, "SHAKE IT FOR ME!"

If there was a table to stand on top of right now, your damn sure that you would be standing on it and pumping your fist in the air.

"Enjoyin' yourself there, monkey?" Leah glances at you and smiles, although slightly concerned for the impending sugar crash that's going to follow anytime soon.

"Hell yeah! I'm in my cowgirl era right now!" You scream in response, swaying to the music and continuing to live in the moment, "I never ever wanna leave this place!" You exclaim.

Leah laughs slightly and shakes her head, "Stay here, alright? I'm goin' to get some drinks-- Don't even think about moving!" She warns, following what happened earlier on when you went on an adventure for Churros.

"Ooo, drink. I want one!" You insist, whipping your head in the blondes' direction, "I'll take a vodka coke, please!" You declare.

"Sure, nice try. How about we hold the coke, eh?" Leah remarks, amusedly, "Legal age is 21 here, sorry, monkey." She pats you on your shoulder.

"Boo!" You huff in protest at the news, "C'mon, the rules don't have to apply to me!" You tell her.

Rules are there to be broken, right?

Definitely.

"Yes they do," Jordan chimes in.

"Pft, says who?" You scoff and roll your eyes at the older women. Your definitely not a rule follower most of the time, "Rules don't mean nothing to me."

"Me, because the rules really do apply in this case, monkey. I'm not being the one bailing you out of jail," Leah tells you, laughing in amusement.

You can't help but huff once more, "Meanie, complete meanie, Malfoy."

"I do not look like Malfoy!" The blonde exclaims.

"Yer you do, carbon copy of him," You remark cheekily, sticking your tongue out at her.

"You little-- I'll be back. Stay put here, don't even think about moving or I'll follow through with the threat of that tracker!" Leah warns, wagging her finger in front of your face, "Stay." She repeats.

"Woof," You reply to the blonde by barking, being completely, well, being completely you.

"Le? Pst, Le!" You not to gently nudge the blonde in the ribs as you start to get bored in the middle of a performance and want her attention, "Le... Leeeaaah!" You continue be that lovely irritating twerp that everyone seems to put up with.

"What?" Leah turns to face you confused, "What's up, monkey?" She questions.

"Hi," You can't help but snicker in amusement, just winding her up for the sake of it.

Mission success when you see the facial expression is unamused.

"Your such a pest sometimes," The blonde grumbles, shaking her head before she takes a swig of her drink.

You smirk and take the opportunity to be even more of a pest per say, "Malfoy's cranky." You murmur, just loud enough to still be heard.

Leah's head whips around in your direction, "I heard that, you little shit!"

"Language!" You gasp dramatically and widen your eyes, "You said a bad word!"

You feel a swat around the back of your head, "You're a menace sometimes."

"Le, love, don't hit the child," The blondes' grandma chides.

"She's not a child, she's a literal devil," Leah remarks, scoffing as she scowls at you as if to be cautious of your next move.

"Regardless, don't hit Y/N," The older women states.

You can't help but stick your tongue out at the blonde, "I win!" You exclaim, doing a little victory dance in your spot where your sat.

"I can ground you again, so be careful with your next move!" Leah warns, giving you a pointed luck.

Where's the fun in that?

You faux hurt and rest your hand on your chest, "Who, me? I didn't do out. You can't prove anything," You play innocent in front of Leah's family members.

"I was right, you really are a devil sometimes!" Leah murmurs, shaking her head in disbelief, "A complete menace to society."

"Yeah, but you still keep me around, right?" You can't help but grin cockily, letting out a sudden squeal when you feel an arm wrap around your neck and pull you down slightly, "Agh! Lemme go, lemme go!" You whine in protest.

Soon enough the wave of the sugar rush soon turns into a sugar crash.

Eating a bunch Churros was really, really not a good idea.

Although they were too good to not eat, so definitely worth it at the time in your opinion.

However, now, it is a completely different story now your energy is starting to wear off.

The state being where you somehow manage to slump off your chair down to the floor and curl yourself into a ball on the ground in front of Leah and her family.

You just want to get comfy, and the ground seems acceptable.

No judgement here, alright?

Leah's a bit drunk from the alcohol but seeing you in the way that you are and shes' sobering up pretty quick, "Monkey, what an earth are you doin'?"

"I'm tired," You murmur in half asleep state, finding it hard to keep your eyes open.

Leah exhales a sigh and shakes her head, "Why don't you come back up here and sleep on the chair, like a normal person?" She suggests.

You barely are shaking your head in response due to the tiredness, "No thanks, I'm comfy here."

"That can't possibly be comfy though?" The blonde continues to look at you in disbelief.

Jordan can't help but look over at the chaos and chuckle slightly, "Are you okay, kid?" She asks.

"M' tired and the grounds comfortable," Your voice is just loud enough to be heard, as your eyes flutter shut as your just content enough to listen to the music, "Night night."

"Monkey, come on. The grounds dirty and cold, get up please," Leah looks at you in bewilderment, trying to get you up of the floor where's there no doubt several amount of things you definitely shouldn't be lying in, "Monkey, come on. Up here." She repeats.

There's not much response from you, because somehow bizarrely, you have managed to get curl yourself up in a ball and fall fast asleep.

The soft snores are a dead giveaway that you are indeed out cold.

"Is she... Is she really asleep?" Jordan looks completely baffled.

Berny peers over at you and chuckles, "It appears she is."

"Monkey can sleep anywhere. I've never seen her fall asleep in the middle of a festival though," Leah snorts in amusement, before she takes pity on you and moves off her seat to crouch down and gently scoop you up into her arms, settling back onto her seat with you nestled against her.

It takes a few minutes before you shift in your sleep, burying your face in the blondes' neck and letting out soft snores, which make all 3 women smile in amazement.

"Shes' out for the count so it seems," Leah murmurs, swaying to the beat of the music and softly patting your back to allow you to still stay asleep for the rest of the concert, "Hopefully she can make it all the way through the acts tomorrow before she sleeps." She jokes.

Another day in Nashville, a whole lot more for you to see.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[littlest-w01f]

Tangled

Eris Vanserra x Reader

For @erisweekofficial

Eris Week 2024 Masterlist

Day 5: War/Adventure

Summary: For a mission, your brother sends you instead of himself, leaving you in a room in Hewn City with Eris. And a confined room with Eris Vanserra is something you never really thought you'd have to experience, it's an adventure of its own trying to decipher your feelings that aren't disgust

Cw: Hate fucking but they don't really hate each other, Smut 18+ MDNI

You couldn't believe your brother had convinced you to do this, to visit Hewn City and keep a male charmed, what no one told you, that the male was Eris Vanserra, the male whose cocky smile and looks infuriated you to no end.

What pissed you off further was the fact that the Moonstone Palace was occupying Feyre Archeron that very week, leaving you to stay with Eris, with all your belongings you would not in your right mind wear in front of the Autumn heir.

"I'm taking that bed. That bed is for me." Eris rolled his eyes, watching you, "It's not my fault Rhysand couldn't provide you with proper acomendations."

You glared at Eris, your hands on your hips as you stood firm in front of the plush four-poster bed. "Fine, have it your way," You huffed, turning on your heel to stalk towards the other end of the room. "I'll take that lumpy cot in the corner then. It's not like I want to sleep beside you anyway. I doubt I'd wake up."

He rolled his eyes at your words, leaning back against the headboard of the large bed. His smirk was evident even in the dim lighting, his cocksure attitude never faltering. "Well, I wouldn't dream of depriving you of such a delightful experience," he drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Your cheeks flamed with anger, but there was something about being so close to him, feeling his gaze on your body, that sent a thrill down your spine despite yourself. You crossed the room quickly, claiming the smaller bed with its lumpy mattress.

As you settled in, trying to find a comfortable position, you heard the rustling of fabric behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw Eris standing near the foot of his bed, slowly unbuttoning his tunic. Your breath caught in your throat as more of his toned chest was revealed, the faerie lights casting across his figure.

He caught you staring and grinned wickedly. "Like what you see?" he purred, letting his shirt fall to the floor. Your face flushed hotly and you quickly looked away, but you couldn't help sneaking another peek as he reached for the waistband of his pants, he was teasing you, deliberately slow.

He shimmied out of his trousers, revealing his silk boxers that left little to the imagination. The outline of his hardening cock strained against the thin fabric, making your mouth go dry.

With a defiant huff, you rose from the cot and sauntered over to your bag, making sure to put an extra sway in your hips, he wasn't the only one who could tease. Bending over deliberately, you rummaged through your belongings until you found what you were looking for, a sheer, silky nightgown, one of your favourites.

Straightening up, you held the garment up in front of you at an angle that Eris could get a look, relishing the hungry look that flashed across his face before he quickly masked it with indifference. "Looks like someone won't be getting much sleep tonight," you teased, your voice low and sultry.

Slowly, teasingly, you slipped out of your clothes, letting each article drop to the floor with deliberate carelessness. Eris's eyes followed your every move, his pupils dilating with desire as more and more of your skin was exposed.

Finally, you stepped out of your last piece of clothing, standing before Eris in nothing but the translucent nightgown that clung to your curves like a second skin. The delicate fabric highlighted every dip and swell of your body, the subtle sheen catching the faerielights and casting a mesmerizing glow.

Eris's gaze roved over you, drinking in the sight of your naked beauty. His lips parted slightly, and you could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest. "Fuck, y/n…" he breathed, his voice thick with lust.

"Did you say something?" You ask, voice playing innocent.

His eyes lingered on the swell of your breasts, barely contained by the thin material of your nightgown. "Just admiring the view," he replied smoothly, his voice a low growl that sent tingles down your spine.

You tilted your chin up, pretending not to care about his blatant ogling. But inside, a flame of arousal was starting to burn brighter. The air between you was charged with tension, thick with unspoken desires.

Without breaking eye contact, you moved closer to the bed, the hem of your gown brushing against your thighs. Each step brought you nearer to Eris, the scent of his arousal mingling with the cool night air. "Just keep your hands to yourself, Vanserra."

Eris let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head, your words flipped something in him. "You're delusional if you think I would ever touch you," His voice dripped with disdain. "I prefer my females with class, not bratty princesses who throw tantrums when they don't get their way."

His words stung, but you refused to show it, you weren't a bratty princess. Instead, you lifted your chin higher, meeting his gaze with a defiant glare, two can play that game. "And I prefer males who aren't arrogant assholes," You retorted, your voice sharp as a knife. "Too bad you're stuck here with me."

The tension between you was palpable, a pull that neither of you could fully resist. Eris snorted derisively, "Spare me the dramatics. You're just mad because I'm not falling at your feet like everyone else does."

"Oh please," You scoffed, rolling your eyes dramatically. "As if I'd ever stoop so low as to sleep with a pompous prick like you. I have standards, unlike some people."

Eris's jaw clenched at your words, his eyes flashing with irritation. "Trust me, sweetheart, the feeling is mutual," he bit out, his voice dripping with venom. "I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole, even if you were the last female in Prythian."

"You couldn't handle me if you tried," You shot back, a wicked grin spreading across your face. "I bet you're all talk and no action. Probably can't even get it up without having to stroke your ego."

Eris's face reddened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You have no idea what I'm capable of," He growled, his pride wounded by your jabs. Your barbs only served to fuel the fire burning within him, a fire that had nothing to do with your petty insults and everything to do with his cock that throbbed with every word you said, wanting to shove it down your throat if that would shut you up.

Before either of you knew it, he had lunged forward, grabbing your wrist and pulling you against his muscular chest. Your curves pressed tightly against him, the friction sending shocks of pleasure radiating throughout your entire body.

A surge of triumph filled you as you felt his rigid cock pressing insistently against your stomach. "Let's see how tough you really are, Princess," he hissed, his voice rough with suppressed lust.

His lips crashed against yours with bruising force, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth to claim dominion over you. The taste of him exploded on your tongue, a potent mix of whiskey and male aggression that made your head spin.

You moaned into the kiss, your body responding instinctively to the dominant pressure of his mouth, fighting his dominance with your own. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, nails scraping against his skin as you clung to him, lost in the intensity of the moment.

Eris's hands roamed your body possessively, squeezing your breasts roughly through the thin fabric of your nightgown. He pinched your nipples hard, eliciting a gasp from your lips which he swallowed greedily. His other hand slid down to grab your ass, kneading the supple skin and pulling your hips flush against his straining cock.

Breaking the kiss, he nipped at your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't be able to take any more jabs at anyone," he promised darkly, his voice a low rasp in your ear. "I'll make you scream my name until you're hoarse."

In response, you raked your nails down his scared back, leaving angry red welts in their wake. "Promises, promises," You shove him back into the bed, a smirk on your face, "The bed is yours remember." You taunt him. "I was taking the cot."

Eris landed on the bed with a thud, his eyes narrowing at your taunt. "Oh, we're playing games now, are we?" he growled, sitting up and reaching for you. His long fingers wrapped around your wrists, yanking you towards him with surprising strength.

You stumbled forward, landing on the mattress beside him. Before you could react, he flipped you onto your back, his body covering yours. His weight pinned you down effortlessly, leaving you breathless and disoriented.

His hot breath ghosted over your neck as he leaned in close. "I'll gladly play with you… All night long." His hand slid up your thigh, pushing your nightgown higher as he sought the warmth between your legs.

His fingers found the damp heat of your cunt, probing gently through the soaked fabric of your lace. A low groan rumbled in his chest at the evidence of your arousal. "Seems like someone's enjoying this game after all," He purred, his voice a seductive whisper against your ear.

You squirmed beneath him, torn between the urge to push him away and the desperate need for more of his touch. "Shut up," you hissed, bucking your hips against his hand. "Don't flatter yourself."

With deft movements, he pushes your night dress up, exposing your slick folds to his exploring touch. Two slender fingers plunged deep inside you, curling to find that sensitive spot within. Your back arched off the bed, a high-pitched moan escaping your lips as pleasure surged through you.

Eris smiled against your skin, pleased with your reaction. "So responsive… I wonder how many times I can make you come tonight," he murmured, pumping his fingers faster, and driving you closer to the edge.

Your cunt spasmed around his fingers, clenching and releasing rhythmically as he thrust into you relentlessly. Every stroke sent waves of intense pleasure coursing through your body, making you dizzy with desire.

"Fuck!" you cried out, gripping the sheets beneath you. "That's... Not fair!" Your inner walls clenched tighter around his fingers, milking them for more of that delicious friction.

Ignoring your protests, Eris continued to work his fingers expertly, teasing your clit with his thumb while driving his fingers deeper. The sensation was overwhelming as pleasure coiled tight within you.

"Fair has nothing to do with it," He growled, increasing his pace even further. "It's all about power, darling. And right now, I've got all the power."

He loomed above you, his muscles rippling under his skin as he pumped his fingers mercilessly. "This is what you get for being such a brat," he hissed, his voice thick with lust.

His thumb rubbed circles over your swollen clit, adding another layer of pleasure to the torment already building within you. "Take it," he commanded, his fingers plunging deeper into your wet heat.

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with devastating force. Your body convulsed beneath him, a high-pitched cry tearing from your throat as you came undone.

With a grunt of raw lust, Eris positioned himself at your entrance. His throbbing cock pulsed eagerly, eager to plunge into your wet heat. Without another word, he slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt in a single brutal thrust.

You groaned, your voice echoing through the room as pleasure ripped through you. Your walls clenched around him, trying to accommodate his pace but failing miserably. It hurt so good, each inch of him stretching you wide. You hadn't taken a male to bed in too long, it had just been females and toys for you for a long while, not that you were going to tell him that, unless you wanted him more cocky.

"Take it," he commanded, starting to move. His hips snapped forward in a punishing rhythm, each thrust hitting that sweet spot deep within you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, punctuating the symphony of moans and curses spilling from both your mouths.

You flipped your positions suddenly, catching Eris off guard. Straddling his hips, you pinned his wrists above his head with a firm grip, taking control of the situation. A wicked grin spread across your face as you looked down at him, relishing the surprise and arousal in his eyes.

"I think it's time I show you what happens when you underestimate me," you purred, grinding your slick cunt along his rigid cock. The head caught on your entrance with each pass, making you both shudder with need.

Eris bucked his hips up desperately, seeking more of that delicious friction. "Fuck," he groaned, struggling against your hold. But you held fast, determined to tease him mercilessly.

You started to ride him then, slamming your hips down with reckless abandon. Each movement was brutal, and punishing, as if you were trying to punish him for daring to dominate you earlier. The slap of skin echoed through the room, mingling with your harsh panting and Eris's choked groans.

Leaning forward, you captured his mouth in a rough, aggressive kiss, your tongues battling for dominance just like your bodies, teeth biting him. The taste of him filled your senses, fueling your lust even higher.

"You like this, don't you?" you spat against his lips, breaking the kiss to glare down at him.

He glared up at you defiantly, despite the clear signs of pleasure etched across his face. "Of course I fucking love it," he growled, bucking his hips up to meet each of your savage thrusts. "Don't stop there."

His words spurred you on, you rode him harder, faster, reveling in the sight of his flushed skin and the way his muscles tensed under yours.

As your climax built within you, you leaned down once more, capturing his nipple between your teeth and giving it a sharp nip, making Eris tense up under you. "Remember this feeling next time you try something stupid," you whispered against his skin before biting down harder in his chest, marking him as yours, teeth marks prominent.

Suddenly, Eris twisted his hips, flipping your positions again. In a flash, he had you pinned beneath him, his body blanketing yours as he loomed over you with a predatory gaze. Your knees were pressed against your ears, trapped between him and the bed.

A wicked smirk played on his lips as he took in your surprised expression. "Did you really think you could tame me that easily?" he purred, trailing a finger down your cheek before gripping your chin firmly. "I'm not so easily controlled, my dear."

He crashed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue invading your mouth possessively. One hand slid down your body, palming your breast roughly before moving lower still. His hips began thrusting again, his cock going deeper with each move.

You gasped into the kiss, your hips arching up to meet his touch. Your inner walls clenched around his pulsing member, urging him deeper. "Fuck you," You spat, though the words lacked conviction.

His laughter vibrated against your lips, a low, mocking sound that only fueled your anger further. "Oh, I am," he assured you, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And you're loving every second of it." He leaned forward to bite down on your neck harshly.

His hips snap forward, his thick cock driving into you with brutal force. You cry out, your body trembling under his onslaught. Despite your earlier defiance, you can't help but whimper in pleasure.

The look in his eyes, the way he touched you - it was all laced with contempt. But that didn't stop the pleasure from surging through you with each powerful thrust of his hips. The way his cock stretched you wide made you want to scream, curse, and beg for more.

He sneered, punctuating each word with a hard drive of his pelvis. "Fuck, you're so tight." His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider as he pounded into you relentlessly.

You squirmed beneath him, digging your nails into his shoulders. However, Eris held strong, his grip on your wrists firm yet gentle.

"Let go," he urged softly, his eyes searching yours. "Just let go and feel." His fingers returned to your clit, circling gently. As they worked their magic, his hips began to move in slow, deliberate thrusts. Every nerve ending in your body seemed to light up, electricity coursing through you at his touch.

With a sigh, you finally relented, allowing yourself to sink into the blissful sensation of being thoroughly claimed by him.

You moaned, your legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him closer. The sound seemed to push him over the edge, sending him spiralling towards his own release.

With a final, guttural roar, Eris thrust deep inside you, his cock twitching as he released his hot seed into your quivering cunt. The sensation sent you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave.

Your entire body convulsed beneath him, waves of pleasure rippling through you. Your inner walls clamped down on his cock, milking him for everything he had.

As your breaths came in ragged pants, Eris collapsed atop you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. His chest heaved against yours, sweat mixing with the remnants of your shared arousal.

"Gods... That was..." he murmured, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. There was genuine admiration in his voice now, replaced by the earlier mockery.

You felt Eris's warm breath against your skin, his voice a husky whisper in your ear. A sense of satisfaction washed over you, knowing you'd left him breathless and spent.

As you both caught your breath, Eris slowly withdrew from your body, his softening cock slipping free with a lewd pop. A trail of their combined fluids glistened on your thigh, a physical reminder of the intense passion you'd shared.

Rolling onto his side, Eris gathered you close, his arms encircling you protectively. For once, the sneering edge was gone, replaced by a quiet contentment.

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo}

{Eris Taglist- @fxckmiup @slut4acotar @secret-third-thing @shadowsingers-mate @fieldofdaisiies @st4r-girl-official}

[reidmania]

let the grass grow | spencer reid

summary; you love spencer too let him stay while your world falls apart at your own hands.

warnings; hurt x comfort w no comfort, exes, angst w no happy ending, self depricating thoughts, insecurities, self sabotaging, avoidant attachment reader, fem reader, early seasons spencer, mentions of not eating, scars but never says whats from, arguments, but u guys love each other. its just sad tbh. 1.7k words

an; this is purely for my own sake and i wanted to make it a comfort but i genuinely couldn't bc this is a very real and relevant issue that no comfort seems to comfort so.. enjoy the pain?? song is let the grass grow by ruel, my man my man.

‘so I'll leave before you go, ‘cause there's no tears when it's my fault this self-sabotage, all of our other scars don't compare. take the river to the sea, drown myself, so I don't sink, find my peace there, underneath the hurricane, break a promise, so I can leave, burn a forest so i can sleep. lay my head stone and let the grass grow over me’

You could feel eyes on you everywhere, constantly throughout the entirety of the day. Even though deep down you knew no one was really staring at you the amount you built it up to in your mind. Constant judgement and quiet questioning from the gaze of your co-workers made your stomach fill with an overwhelming sense of sickness, it made you want to crawl into a hole and remain there in a foetal position for the rest of the time life offered you.

Quiet whispers of worry bounced around the building from your co-workers to one another, each one who had asked if you were okay throughout the day – multiple times, every to which you’d reply with a nod of your head and a forced smile on your lips that left indents on your cheeks, when your eyes remained the same distant and sullen that caused their worry in the first place.

It wasn’t until you were leaving the building you heard the same question after a whisper of your  name, but from Spencer.

Your head turned towards him faster than you meant it to, you swore any faster and you would’ve ended the day with not only a worse mood than you woke up in but also whiplash. Your eyes met his and you wished they didn’t. The care is held and balanced evenly in his eyes, causing a slither in the walls you had built up around yourself and everything that fell below surface level.

“Are you okay?” His eyes studied your face as if he would find any hint of truth in your expression since he knew better than to believe the lie that fell from your lips. Spencer Reid wasn’t an idiot, anyone and everyone was painfully aware of that, you were painfully aware of that. He hadn’t asked the question the same amount everyone else did, he hadn’t even talked to you today until now.

You nodded in response, casting your eyes away from his and back to the elevator you wished would hurry up. Two weeks, it had been two weeks since you broke up with Spencer, it had been two weeks of Spencer everyday asking you why, and it had been two weeks of you being unable to provide an answer that seemed good enough for him. Nothing you said seemed to help him understand why you would break off something that was going so well, that made you both evidently happy, everyone could see it, everyone watched you both pine after one another for years.

“Talk to me” He begged for what felt like – and probably was, the hundredth time.

Your head shook, because what were you supposed to say? What did he want you to say? You didn’t know and for you that meant you were better off not saying anything, maybe because the truth you fought to keep away from the open air seemed so pathetic and embarrassing it was better left unsaid. He was asking you to show him the deepest and worst parts of you and you were refusing and he just wouldn’t let it go.

“I don’t have anything to say” You replied, the same response as every other time he asked. It wasn’t enough, not for Spencer because he knew it wasn’t true.

He frowned, and it broke your heart. 

“I just want to understand,” He pleaded with you, reaching out for your hand. You pulled it away, what you were doing was mean, you knew that, it was unfair and mean to both him and yourself. Depriving you both of what you both wanted and yearned for so deeply all because you constantly felt like the world was closing in on you and things fell apart under your touch, it was just mean – but you weren’t cruel enough to allow Spencer the touch of your hand to pull it back all over again.

“I wish you would” You mumbled out, muffled enough you could convince yourself he didn’t hear even though you knew he did. You didn’t intend to be mean with your words, you wished he understood that you were physically incapable of what he was asking from you, it wasn’t something you could bring yourself to do.

The elevator dinged and the door opened and you were thanking the world, until Spencer got on next to you and now you were left in a confined space with the one person who seemed to break through the box of self deprecation you would bury yourself into, time and time again. You didn’t want him there, you didn’t want him in your space, in your mind and in the middle of your emotions that took you down day in and day out. 

You wanted him, that wasn’t something you tried to hide, just something you deprived yourself of because you didn’t want him to want you, you didn’t even want you. The fact someone else could, someone like Spencer, was overwhelming in a number of ways and it only furthered the insecurity that consumed you.

“I’m here, I know there’s more than what you’re letting on.” He said, you wanted to appreciate his effort of reassurance but it didn’t help. You loved Spencer, and you were now certain he was the sweetest person to ever exist. How could you allow yourself to indulge in something so sweet and so pure when you deemed yourself the opposite. You fell apart and buried yourself in your own issues, you spent days lying in the darkness of your bedroom body starved and scarred, you’d mull over every mistake you ever made and everything in your life that should have belonged to someone more deserving.

You didn’t answer him, so he spoke again. “I have been and I'm going to be here until you’re ready to talk about it” his voice was gentle and dripping with reassurance you wish you could accept because his words were suppose to be reassuring but they left a bad taste in your mouth and just made your heart clench tighter in your chest to the point you thought it might’ve stopped beating.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” You said, not turning your head to face him but you were sure enough that they best portrayed what you were feeling, too much.

He let out a breath, a sigh of a sort and shook his head as he spoke, “I never said you did, I don’t mind waiting for you–”

There it was.

“I don’t want you to do that.” You snapped slightly, guilt instantly infested your gut but you couldn’t help it. You didn’t need him to wait around for this feeling to go away because it never did, your entire life, it never had and you didn’t imagine that changing. “I don’t want you to wait for me, Spencer. I don’t want you to just wait around for something that’s never going to happen, this won’t change. I made my decision” you huffed out the most you had said to him since that night you ended things which consisted of a teary eyed argument.

He dragged his hands through his hair as he tried to figure out what to say, then the elevator came to a stop and you were moving off it quicker than his brain could process and then he was following you and he was reaching out for your hand, even though he knew better by now. “You said you loved me, you said that while you were breaking up with me. You said you loved me and that you were sorry, you couldn’t do it anymore and then gave me nothing else” He stated, his eyes pleading for some sort of answer, something he could blame himself for.

That's not what you wanted, you didn’t want him to blame himself – that was almost a part of the whole point. If he blamed you for this, if you ended it now then there was no chance it would happen any other way. You could live with him blaming you with this, much better than you could live with getting hurt or inevitably hurting him. “I do love you Spencer” You said, you weren’t going to lie about that. 

Your arm pulled away from his touch but he only reached out again, “I’m trying to respect your decision, but I don’t understand. You love me but you don’t want me to wait, you love me but you broke up with me – I just- You’re doing this thing where–  you like to shut down and shut everyone out and I don’t want you to do that. If you don’t want to be with me then I’ll respect that but If you think I can stand around and watch you fall apart you don’t know me, and I would really prefer to think you did because for the longest time I thought I knew you and now finding out that maybe I don’t is– Well it sucks.”

You huffed out, you knew it was unfair and contradicting and you almost wished you had never gotten involved in the first place because you hated the fact you were hurting Spencer right now because your emotions were confusing. It was unfair. “I’m sorry” You started. He was right, you knew him and he knew you, on the slightest of a deeper level.

“Don’t do that. Don’t apologise and then brush it off. I don’t want you to be sorry, I want you to be honest. You keep everyone at arm's reach, on surface level– I want more than that, I want to know you, and understand you, I want to understand this. Tell me what you need and I'll do it, but I need to understand why first.” 

How were you supposed to tell the single handedly most sweet, kind and perfect person that you were unable to provide him with the one thing he wanted – to know you. How were you supposed to admit that something as simple as that was too much to ask for. 

“There's this expectation that I can't reach, that I never have, never will and I love you, Spencer, that's true – but I'm not going to let you sit around and watch me fail time after time again to reach the expectation of basic human existence.” You shook your head as you pulled your hands away from his grasp, your body turned as you walked away.

He stood calling out your name but his feet stayed glued to the ground, and there was no response from you.