#i wish i could have done it better justice

[corseque]

Hi! I've been following you for ages for your great Solas takes and immaculate taste in sad men. I've been thinking about this because I have a Dragon Age Inquisitor who is an abomination, what do you think Solas would think about abominations/do you recall him ever talking about them? Both Anders/Justice and the more demonic unwilling variety.

Personally I would assume he'd be initially horrified because that might seem like a violation of consent for both parties, but after learning more about them he might grow more curious/respect actual unions a mage might have as an abomination. I am basically just workshopping an OC and hitting a wall and you're the local Solas sage, so... XO

Oh, that's so nice..

Solas is more chill with willing abominations than you might think. And he seems to know all about it already. In Jaws of Hakkon, in the quest called “In Exile” you meet a young mage named Sigrid Gulsdotten who had been willingly possessed by a friendly spirit in order to teach her magic. Which is what the Avvar do culturally to make mages safer.

Sigrid was getting old enough that it was time for her and the spirit to part ways, but she didn’t want to give it up because she didn’t want to lose the spirit as a friend/confidant. Solas has a surprising amount to say in Jaws of Hakkon in general about how the Avvar interact with and relate to spirits, and he talks a lot in this quest too. He is very gentle with her. Let me look up exactly what he says. When you find clues about the mage's failed ritual to part with her spirit, Solas says (a mage in your party always speaks here):

"Residual magic. Someone was casting a spell, and was interrupted. Or stopped."

"If a mage was performing a ritual to part with a spirit, she may have needed to replenish her strength."

Then later, when you talk to her, the conversation goes like this:

Sigrid: "I could not do it! I have no close companions in the hold! No kin! I cannot lose my only friend!"

Inquisitor: "You're friends with this… spirit?"

Sigrid: "It has taught me with patience and kindness since I was a child, frightened of the fire I could suddenly call down."

Solas: "A great comfort. But you are no longer a child."

Sigrid: "Some mages need the help of a god all their lives."

Solas: "Very well. Perhaps, however, ask yourself if it is help you need, or companionship."

Sigrid: "I do not wish to lose the one who loves me."

Here is a playthrough that has this dialogue:

At the end of the quest, if you recruit Sigrid for the Inquisition, Varric, Sera, Vivienne, Iron Bull and Cassandra have strong negative feelings about it, while Cole approves. Solas doesn't seem to approve or disapprove, as far as I can tell. He doesn't say anything, at least. When talking to the Shaman about this Avvar practice, you get this conversation:

Inquisitor: "You let spirits possess your mages on purpose?"

Shaman: "What better teacher than one woven from magic? The spirits in the hold have helped us in this way for hundreds of years. Once a mage masters their powers, their teacher departs, duty ended. Unless the mage is weak."

Inquisitor: "What happens to these "weak" mages?"

Shaman: "Their teachers stay with them and the other gods watch them both, so neither soul turns sick. If one does sicken, or the mage stands in risk of harming the hold… One day, they do not wake in their bed. It is very sad. It is what must be done."

Solas: "It is kinder than what happens in many mage Circles."

So Solas seems to understand the reality that abominations become corrupted more easily, and that it's probably best for abominations to separate willingly.

Solas offers to separate Lucanis and Spite, and says their forceful combination was "a crime against [them] both" so I can only assume that it's the willingness factor that he gets upset by, along with him always being upset at the thought of spirits becoming corrupted.

[acceptme33]

Top 5 transformers?

Heres mine (ps: chose designs I fw the most)

1. arcee

ever since I was a wee child the only transformers toys I got were arcee and it was only one. My parents gave most to my twin brother this is of course because I was a girl he was a boy HOWEVER nothing can take away the shared love we have for transformers.

So as you can guess arcee holds a special place in my heart for not only being the reason I had a toy in the first place as a child but also the gateway I had to transformers. She opened the gate and I have injected transformers into my veins ever since. (Love her in any continuity)

2. Megatron

i was low-key scared of this guy as a child but as I've grown and learned more about bro's backstory the more I kinda liked him to now being one of my favorites. I also like villains and he's cool! I could go on and on but you get the gist.

3. Overlord

as I said I think I like bad guys too much. Kinda wish we got a lot more of him (an idw arcee and overlord interaction would have gone crazy especially before she killed jhiaxus....fix idea?) he was just so evil and cool! I really wish we got more of him and more wreckers on the team at that arcee would probably have gotten bodied but she has plot armor and I think she could do it (insane coping here). Anyway he could have done so much more if he only had time.

4. Prowl

..... noticing a pattern yet? I low key shipped him and arcee until comic events smooshed that....but no more arcee talk.

He was so complicated....i felt bad for him yet also hated him? Like he's an ass but war....and I can get his actions but I just feel like he could have gone about it better it's just so sad to me seeing how his character is and why he does the things he does....tbh prowl is a pretty tragic character that you can understand but also hate at the same time but if megatron could get redemption I'm sure he could too with enough work.

5.nautica

She's so pretty and nerdy it was a crime what they did to Nautica and skids 😔 justice NOW.

[astralnymphh]

WELL. F MY LIFE THEN. JUST F IT. now i have to indulge in a commentary reblog.. we know i only do this with masterpieces such as the one i'm about to ramble under.. here we go! gracie has gone and done it again.. my descent to madness is evident in each comment made

Her bed was made.  That’s the first thing you noticed when you crept into her space.

ugh this eerie symbolism.. like it's such a simple thing (AESTRA TRY NOT TO BE INFATUATED WITH SIMPLICITY CHALLENGE) but at this time and in this story, it digs a deeper meaning. just the observation of aberration and shiftings within a room someone has been rotting in. it curdles in the spine quite hauntingly. very nicely done!!!

After walking into that room in the ski lodge and seeing her and Joel bloodied and battered, you cannot get the metallic taste to go away. Everything you ate tasted like it.

this too!! like hello?? memories stippling so hard into one that it affects the other senses.. i can, like, feel the torment beaming off this little paragraph; the torture of a vision, and now an abnormal taste no one should know. jesus..

She finally changed out of the socks that were partially soaked with blood.

THIS!! JUST LIKE THE FIRST PARAGRAPH! it's so simple but put so oddly that it creates this whole other background.. it's like a storm slowly brewing. it does accentuate and ascend to ellie deciding that she wants revenge (Hah. Like the band), because she is finally lifting herself from the rot that leeched. nothing can motivate a person besides an idea. a desperate, destructive idea.

It’s like a release that you have been waiting for. She starts to cry, the air escaping her lungs as she heaves to let out another sob.

whenever i hear that someone is releasing what they've "bottled up" i tend to view it as a purely emotional thing and not a physical thing that you see besides crying. but it's everything that makes up the cry. the air, the breath, the upwards movement of extrication, the squeezing of warmth in your eyes. truly an art in itself to nail crying in a written form. makes ellie feel so much more human.

She grips onto you like you're the axis to keep her world spinning.

jesus cunt.. jiminy christmas.. what else am i supposed to say but JESUSSSS.. POETRY..

Her malicious and unhinged behavior was beginning to frighten you a bit.

THIS IS SO REAL THO?? IT JUST IS?? i'm so finitely sure this is a part of what dina felt at times. like, oh my god. to not watch your lover transform—but to watch your lover transformed, and to have missed this change in the blink of an eye. when had this monstrosity begun, and how deep does it go? thank you gracie for having such a blessedly perfect understanding of ellie from a lover's perspective!!

You watched her twist it and rip it out the side, their blood splattering all over the wall. When the man collapsed, she simply tucked her weapon into her sheath and kept moving. It was so brutal and unnecessary, but she kept telling you they deserved it.

same as this one. to see this twisting of a woman, and understand immediately that she is wrong; she is not correct nor incorrect, but she is in the tooth too deep, rotting it to a point of loss, what she needs the least. she wants to find and serve justice, but she will only drive it away. you can't push hard for anything.

“Els?” You snap her out of her trance-like daze. She has not said anything in about an hour. Your voice is soft and so is your touch on her shoulder. You want to try to pick her brain, something you have been unsuccessful at doing the last couple of weeks. She winces.  “Yeah?” She utters. A bit of phlegm in the back of her throat makes her sound hoarse.

AGAIN. WITH MAKING ELLIE A HUMAN. YOU DO IT TOO WELL I CAN'T ACTUALLY FATHOM ANY OF THIS.

You wished you could read her mind. It would make your relationship with her way easier. After two years, you would think she would be better about sharing her feelings, but she mostly left you to interpret her body language.

canon relationship with tlouuniverse!ellie good god (By Korn).. something about this insecure, or in better words, inherent depiction of ellie makes me love her more. i think ellie would love to tell her girlfriend everything that runs on in her mind. i think it always sits in the base of her throat. but, she can't. there is no reason. she just can't. I LOVE YOU GRACIE.

“I think we need to surprise them at night,” She states, her voice a bit robotic. You just bite the inside of your lip and nod. She was making all the plans, you just had to go along with it.

more canon behaviour breuh.. literally this happened right after reader tried to get in touch with that hidden inside, that true ellie. yet, it was masked over. this alludes so well to a metaphor of possession, which.. they aren't always spiritual. i would even argue that possessions were never meant to be. i think these possessions that come from within, from a bud of despondency, or rage, are true possessions that happen often. it's disgusting to see the one you love taken by it. ergo, Good Job!!!!

You never saw her eyes change when she took a life.

i don't even need to say anything at this point. it speaks for itself.

She heaves and you know tears are spilling from those beautiful green eyes.

"AND YOU KNOW TEARS ARE SPILLING FROM THOSE BEAUTIFUL GREEN EYES." I REPEAT. "AND YOU KNOW TEARS ARE SPILLING FROM THOSE BEAUTIFUL GREEN EYES." UGHHHH I'M KILLING YOU IN YOUR SLEEP. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY. I'M ANGRY WITH INFATUATION.

Before you knew Ellie, you knew Joel. You did not understand their relationship, but you knew it was fractured. Joel never talked badly about her, only reminding everyone around him how proud he was of her. Whenever he caught you around the stables, he would ask if you were still hanging out with her. You would always blush and reply quickly, “Yes, of course”. He would smile and tell you how grateful he was to see she had a friend like you.

i love this too much.. joel proud father no matter what.. this adds such a layer to this little universe in this little fic.. i could hug that old man if he wasn't a. fictional and b. 6 feet under.

“How am I supposed to live with that?” She was hurting so badly. Her violent heart has finally had enough.  “You learn how to manage it.”

You stand up so you can face her. Her gaze has softened now and she almost looks like the same girl who confessed her feelings to you at the Harvest Festival two years ago. A little bit older, aged with the falling away of time, but still beautiful and vulnerable. Her green eyes sparkled differently, but your Ellie was still there somewhere.

Girl I'm killing myself in the middle of TjMaxx how do you write such beautiful things.. sabrina carpenter would arrest your Writing.. ugh

The silence tells you the answer but you just look over at Ellie. She has blood pouring out of her nose and it trickles down her neck.  “She got away.”

the one that got away.. stop because that song actually puts tears in my eyes. i will never ever get over this scene of ellie in-game and now. in fics. man you were right about this fic HURTINGGGGGGG.

Every time she would touch you in that way, she was meticulous and very generous. You would try to return the favor and she would shrivel up and tell you that she was okay. It made you feel some type of way, but after the fifth time it happened, you realized it was because she did not feel in tune with herself in that way.

broken ellie who is broken during sex.. most realistic depiction of sex with farm!ellie (from a fully canonical plot) that i've seen on this app. like omg it's so disgusting and heartbreaking to read.. stop this right neow..

You told her that she was beautiful every day. No matter what she was doing, or how she looked, whenever the thought entered your mind, you would say it out loud. Her response was always, “No, you.”

Alright.. you got me kickalicking my feet with this one HUEEHAUHHUEUHEA

She looks at you, tears already welling in her eyes.  “Babe…” You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. “Where are you going?”

NO.. GO BACK.. NO.. DON'T DO THIS.. BJORK HELP ME..NO..NO!!

“I thought I told you that I want to be alone.” And now she would be.

You sick and twisted bastard you're going to receive 100 kisses by post mail I hope you ENJOY YOUR HOLIDAYS and SIT WITH THIS and realize how great of a writer you are no matter how deep in the depths of listlessness or demotivation you are.. please continue writing for ellie oh y god

i bet on losing dogs

pairing: ellie williams x reader

post about palestine - please be aware and know who your content comes from. this post informs you about the tlou writers and creators, as well as how to help the Palestinian people.

description: a slow progression of how you lost ellie.

word count: 3.7k words

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader is in a relationship with ellie, only angst, small mentions of intimacy, descriptions of violence, mentions of blood, ellie is grieving big time, ellie trauma dumps, ellie gets hurt, reader is described to be scarred and disfigured after seattle, reader is scared of ellie, dark themes in general.

author’s note: just know this was sitting in my docs for a while cause I had a hard time sticking with the grief I felt writing it. I finished it a couple weeks ago and just kept rereading it. I can't keep looking at it anymore. have it. i'm sorry in advance.

Her bed was made. 

That’s the first thing you noticed when you crept into her space. The snow had been piled in front of the door, indicating that no one had come or left. Your boots dusted snow across her old oriental-looking rug. Her back was turned to you.

She looks so small. Her hair is greasy, tousled up in a small bun at the base of her head. She was wearing the same clothes you left her in the day before. 

“Els?”

She turns to you, not stunned, just a bit disoriented. Her eyebrows are furrowed the second her eyes meet yours.

“I thought I told you that I want to be alone.”

The statement crushes you. You inhale deeply, trying to relieve the heaviness on your chest. 

You shake your head, “I’m sorry, I can’t watch you rot in this room anymore.”

She's quick with her rebuttal. “If you would have listened, you wouldn’t have to watch. Just leave me alone.”

But you physically cannot. You have spent days pacing your house, thinking about her withering away in her detached garage. You try to sleep, but you know she’s not, so how could you? 

And you had this bitterness in your mouth all the time now. After walking into that room in the ski lodge and seeing her and Joel bloodied and battered, you cannot get the metallic taste to go away. Everything you ate tasted like it. 

“Ellie-“

“Please, I don’t want to talk.”

Her voice is shaky. You notice she’s picking at her cuticles again, they are red and irritated. She finally changed out of the socks that were partially soaked with blood. 

It had been three days since Joel was taken from her. 

You try to hold your ground, blinking back some tears that slip when she approaches you and takes your arm. She’s guiding you to the door, grabbing the handle. When the door creaks open, you snatch your arm away. You are trying to be patient, but this was the second time she was trying to throw you out. She had done the same to Maria and Tommy the day after Joel died.

“I thought you were fuckin’ dead, Ellie.”

You promised yourself you would not burden her with your emotions. But you could not help it anymore. 

“What?”

She shuts the door, letting more cold air seep into the frigid room. She shifts onto her other heel, crossing her arms. It’s a physical way of blocking out your emotions, a gesture that is so subtle and probably absent of intention. 

“I can’t lose you, too, okay?”

Her eyes finally find yours, “You’re not gonna-”

You reach out to her, pulling her hand out of the crook of her arm. “I am here, okay? I am right here.”

She uses the leverage of you grabbing her hand to reel you into a hug. As soon as your chin rests on her shoulder, she’s dead weight in your arms. It’s like a release that you have been waiting for. She starts to cry, the air escaping her lungs as she heaves to let out another sob. You just hold her, the anxiety of leaving her alone for the last three days now escaping you. You finally felt like you were doing something for her. 

She grips onto you like you're the axis to keep her world spinning. Her whole life depended on the feeling of your body around her. 

You sat with her for a whole day in silence. Not saying anything; just waiting for her to say the word. You knew what was next for Ellie.

She was going to get revenge. 

-

Your shirt was stained with blood and sweat. You told yourself the next department store you saw, you would hunt down a 20-year-old shirt to replace it. 

You were exhausted. You could hardly keep up with Ellie the last mile back to the theater. It was only the second day of trying to hunt down this crew Ellie was hell-bent on destroying. Two days in Seattle and you two have discovered a lot without having any initial leads when you arrived. 

And you did not fault her for being so aggressive, but after the things you saw today, you’re starting to wonder if this was really what she needs. Her malicious and unhinged behavior was beginning to frighten you a bit. 

It started when you entered an abandoned hotel. A couple of infected got taken down by your bullets, but when other non-infected people came running your way, you hesitated. You saw the looks of confusion on their faces when they saw you and Ellie. While you stood and held their gazes, Ellie raised her rifle and executed each one of them without even flinching. The shots were louder than you remember, echoing off the walls peeling of wallpaper. 

Then today, you both arrived at an old elementary school. You were caught up with holding off a couple of people in a long hallway. You yelled for Ellie to wait it out, wanting the people to charge you so you could take them out, but instead, she lit up the entire hallway. When the last person came running at her with a baseball bat, she dodged them and shoved her blade right into their necks. You watched her twist it and rip it out the side, their blood splattering all over the wall. When the man collapsed, she simply tucked her weapon into her sheath and kept moving. It was so brutal and unnecessary, but she kept telling you they deserved it. 

She found who she had been looking for. A girl named Nora. You were in charge of keeping watch while she got intel from her. You heard most of the conversation, but when you heard the sounds of metal clinging, you stepped away from the door. You had to resist the urge not to run in there and stop the torture, but your feet were stuck to the concrete. You did not move, you did not dare. 

She is now digging dirt and blood out of her fingernails with her blade, trying not to accidentally knick herself. Her auburn fringe covers her forehead, greasy from sweat. She is still covered in blood, but you two have not said much since you arrived back. 

She went too far and she knows it scared you. But frankly, she did not care. This was necessary. 

“Els?” You snap her out of her trance-like daze. She has not said anything in about an hour. Your voice is soft and so is your touch on her shoulder. You want to try to pick her brain, something you have been unsuccessful at doing the last couple of weeks.

She winces. 

“Yeah?” She utters. A bit of phlegm in the back of her throat makes her sound hoarse. 

“Can you please let me check on you? Just take off your coat.”

Your hand is still on her shoulder. She does not respond or move, so you take it as she’s submitting to your request. You grab the collar of her rain jacket and slowly start to drag it down her shoulder. She’s still not saying anything. 

You wished you could read her mind. It would make your relationship with her way easier. After two years, you would think she would be better about sharing her feelings, but she mostly left you to interpret her body language. You got good at reading it for a while. But then Joel died. And now she is a silent and bitter ball of rage. Anything you thought you knew about her has fallen to the wayside. 

You slowly take off her layers of clothing, being sure to avoid touching the wounds that have made her skin their new home. 

The one on her shoulder was pretty bad, you think to yourself, she better let me stitch her up. 

“I think we need to surprise them at night,” She states, her voice a bit robotic. You just bite the inside of your lip and nod. She was making all the plans, you just had to go along with it.

“Okay,” You whisper, grabbing a medical kit nearby. You made sure to pack it back in Jackson and it came in handy more than once already.

“Do you even want to know what happened earlier?”

Your heart sinks. You do not want to know what happened. You knew she got what she needed from the girl, but you truly did not know if you wanted to hear the details. The idea that Ellie did more than just beat her makes you physically sick. If she could do that to a stranger, what was she going to do when she got her hands on her? You were not innocent in the chase. But your heart always skipped when you had to pull your trigger at another human being. It was not easy to watch life leave someone’s eyes. But for Ellie it was different. She acted like they were just things. Inanimate objects that needed to be pushed out of the way. You never saw her eyes change when she took a life. 

You grab the needle from the med kit and a nearby lighter before settling on the couch beside Ellie. Her shoulder blade is covered by all the blood creating new dark maroon freckles. 

You tilt her shoulder back to better look at it before finally responding. 

“Didn’t think you wanted to talk about it.”

You know that’s not the answer she wanted. Her shoulders fall forward and she places her face in her hands. She lets out a long sigh, disregarding you as you try to patch her up. She quickly turns around to look at you. 

Her eyes are dark, her lips pursed. 

“I got her to talk. She paid with her life.”

You want to see your Ellie, but whoever sits before you is a stranger. 

You did not want to think about Ellie killing a girl by violently beating her. It seemed so personal and evil. You decide there’s no answer worth saying to her confession, so you just turn her back around and begin your slow, tedious stitching.

Once you finish off the last suture, you stand and bring over a bowl filled with rainwater the night before. You were going to use it for drinking, but you decide it’s better to use it to clean around Ellie’s battered body.

You grab a rag from your pack and dip it in the chilled water. You ring it out and bring it to your stitch work. She is shaking now, but you are so scared to hold her in your arms. 

“The night before Joel… we got into that big fight. I was so fuckin’ mad at him. I went to his house to confront him again.”

She heaves and you know tears are spilling from those beautiful green eyes. “Ellie-“

“I told him I was going to try to forgive him for all the shit he did. I should’ve…” 

You drop the red-stained cloth into the bowl and pull her back into your chest. She’s sobbing, her entire body shaking as you finally accept her into your space. 

Before you knew Ellie, you knew Joel. You did not understand their relationship, but you knew it was fractured. Joel never talked badly about her, only reminding everyone around him how proud he was of her. Whenever he caught you around the stables, he would ask if you were still hanging out with her. You would always blush and reply quickly, “Yes, of course”. He would smile and tell you how grateful he was to see she had a friend like you. 

You loved Ellie. You loved her with every fiber of your being. She helped you through a lot of your grief when you arrived in Jackson. She held you through countless nights when you cried about losing your dad. You never thought you would have to do the same for her. Everyone, including you, thought Joel Miller was indestructible. 

“Ellie, how were you supposed to know?” You ask softly before gently pressing a kiss in the middle of her back. You had never kissed her there before.

“How am I supposed to live with that?”

She was hurting so badly. Her violent heart has finally had enough. 

“You learn how to manage it.”

It was the only way you pulled through. Grief is love expressing itself through other means. When you lost your dad, it was not violent. He was sick and his body was so beaten down, he had no chance of surviving the disease taking over his body. Your grief was managed by reminding yourself that you had to keep living for him because if not, you would be disappointing him. You did not know if heaven was real, but you did believe in energy, and you felt him sometimes especially when you needed him the most. 

Ellie’s grief was different. It was forceful and unyielding. She could not let the hatred go and you did not particularly blame her. She watched Joel get beaten so badly that his face was almost unrecognizable. She had to watch a random woman take him away from her, forever. You could not compare your grief, but you did know that with time, she would know how to better manage it. She just could not get over the contempt for others who wronged her. It was embedded within her to seek out retribution. 

She cried a bit, letting out a long sigh. “The only way I see it is if I give those people an ounce of violence they showed Joel in his final moments, I will be at peace.”

You knew the truth. There was no peace in situations like this. But were you going to tell Ellie that? No, you were not. You traveled hundreds of miles for her to do what she felt was necessary. And while you did not agree with all of her actions, you had been complacent. You were no better than any other person with a violent and impulsive lover. You enabled this journey to come to fruition, so you had to take accountability. 

You stand up so you can face her. Her gaze has softened now and she almost looks like the same girl who confessed her feelings to you at the Harvest Festival two years ago. A little bit older, aged with the falling away of time, but still beautiful and vulnerable. Her green eyes sparkled differently, but your Ellie was still there somewhere. 

“Okay, baby.” That is all you could say. “We will finish it.”

-

When you come back to consciousness, your vision is fuzzy. You are completely disoriented, but you know you are face down on the concrete. You start to feel around for something familiar, not sure if your gun or knife is nearby. You felt defenseless.

“Ellie?” You croak out. As soon as you talk, you can feel blood dribbling down your throat. You hear stirring beside you and your blood runs cold. Is that her?

You lift your hand to rub whatever is in your eyes out. Dirt? Mud? When you look at your hands, you get confirmation that it’s blood. You’re covered in it. 

The movement gets closer and you look to your right and see Ellie’s battered body slowly stumbling towards you. Panic rises within you, unsure if she was mortally wounded or not. She collapses beside you, sitting up partially. She reaches for your hand and you realize that you can hardly move your foot to try to push yourself upwards. Everything hurt. 

“Baby, I’m here.” She finally says. Your worry subsides for a moment as you try to sit up. 

“Are you hurt?” You cry out as you press yourself upwards, the pain in your foot shooting up your leg. It’s almost the worst pain you’ve ever been in. You can hardly breathe once contort yourself to settle next to Ellie’s practically limp body. 

“Yeah, but I can walk.”

You finally remember why you’re in this room. You try to scan the room, but the dimmed lighting and blood in your eyes isn’t helping. “Is Abby dead?” 

The silence tells you the answer but you just look over at Ellie. She has blood pouring out of her nose and it trickles down her neck. 

“She got away.”

-

Every day after Abby got away was completely different. When you arrive at the farmhouse on the hill, you hope to see your old Ellie again, and sometimes you do. 

When the golden light trickled between the leaves in the forest and you two bask in the rays as you forage for berries, you tell a stupid joke and her laugh is guttural. She belly laughs and tells you that you’re so “dumb” before she wraps her arms around your waist and presses a kiss into your temple. 

But then there was nighttime. When she finally fell asleep and you would stay up with a candle burning to read, she was ravaged by nightmares. She usually couldn’t escape them, so you would throw your book on the side table and hold her tightly so she could come back to reality. 

The day would break and she would bring you up some breakfast in bed. She was terrible at cooking, but no one can really mess up scrambled eggs. She would serve them to you with a big goofy grin and long kisses. 

Intimacy was few and far between, but you knew not to press it too much. Every time she would touch you in that way, she was meticulous and very generous. You would try to return the favor and she would shrivel up and tell you that she was okay. It made you feel some type of way, but after the fifth time it happened, you realized it was because she did not feel in tune with herself in that way. 

You told her that she was beautiful every day. No matter what she was doing, or how she looked, whenever the thought entered your mind, you would say it out loud. Her response was always, “No, you.”

After a year of domesticity, you woke up one night to the sound of rustling downstairs and an empty bed. When Ellie did have a bad nightmare, she would occasionally go downstairs and sit on the front porch. But it was a chilly night and you knew better. 

The day before Tommy made an unexpected visit and made an already awkward interaction absolutely deplorable. He had to bring up her and blame Ellie for the outcome of the Seattle event. The entire situation led to you forcing him off the property and telling him to never come back with that bullshit. 

It was a subject you and Ellie never discussed after leaving those city limits. She told you she was done, that it was all over. You would never fight her on it, especially because you knew it was really over. There was no way you would be going after someone who almost killed you and disfigured you. Every time you looked in a mirror, you were forced to see the scars that littered your cheeks and forehead. A sick reminder of the bitter fight between you two. 

You slowly walk downstairs, seeing Ellie’s figure in the kitchen. She has her backpack on the floor, loading a gun into the side pocket. 

“What are you doing?” You ask bluntly. She turns around and you take note of her outfit. A couple of layers. A large brown jacket, jeans, and her Converse. She was going somewhere.

She looks at you, tears already welling in her eyes. 

“Babe…”

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. “Where are you going?”

You creep up to her slowly, your bare feet creaking across the hardwood. 

She’s a foot away when she finally puts her hands out to stop you from coming closer. 

“I… I think Tommy is right.”

If it was possible for someone to rip out your heart without opening up your chest, it was happening to you right now. This would be the worst pain. 

“Right about what?” You manage as a whisper. 

She takes in a long breath, “About Abby. About going after her.”

“No… Ellie, he’s not right.” 

You try to move closer, but she takes a step back. She’s treating you like you are infected. But even that would not matter, she’s Ellie. 

It makes you feel every negative emotion when she says the words, “I need to finish this. I told you… I told you I wouldn’t be at peace until I-”

“So why did we even come back, Ellie? How is this fucking fair to me?”

“You wanted to. We… we were fucked up. We didn’t have a chance.”

“And you think you do now?!”

She shakes her head, almost appalled by your statement. “I wasn’t broken like you were.”

You close your lids tightly, unsure how you could even look her in the eyes. Your fingernails are digging into your palms. You had this feeling for a while. An unsettled force that would occasionally bloom in the pit of your stomach when you watched Ellie. You would remind yourself that it’s over. The plot for revenge was buried deep in the ground. 

So when she stands in front of you, ready to take off, you feel like you can’t breathe.

“Ellie, if you go, I will never forgive you. I will not wait for you.”

She’s silent, contemplating even for a moment. She has this look of determination. She has already made up her mind. “That’s your choice.”

She starts to pick up the bag, but you make one more silent plea before watching your life walk out the back door. You grab her hand quickly, stopping her from taking any steps. 

“I thought you fuckin’ loved me, Ellie. I thought you said we were done.” You sob out,  “You think Joel would want this for you? Do you really think he would want you to walk out that door?”

Deep down, you know that Joel would have gone to the ends of the earth for Ellie, especially if the roles were reversed. But he would also want her to have a life after him. And you were more sure of that than the latter.

She pulls her wrist away from your grasp. A look of pure betrayal playing across her features. You had not spoken his name in months. It sounds like a curse word to her coming from you. “You don’t know what he would want.”

“And you do?” 

“He would have done the same for me.”

And she leaves. You think back to the first words she said to you when you entered her room over a year ago. 

“I thought I told you that I want to be alone.”

And now she would be.

-

[mxmoth]

IVY NILE and NIKKI CROSS on WWE RAW | 8-19-24

[kotaki]

"What good are things like a crown and throne if it means being alone?"

[missazurerose]

Glamtober 2024 - Spooky or Supernatural The Familiar appeared with no explanation, sharing stories of a dire future. She could hardly be believed. But the risk of not believing was great to ignore. Happy All Saints' Wake! Happy Halloween!

Witch's Broom Mount Augmented Lunar Envoy's Smallsword (offhand only) Witch's Hat (royal blue and halatali yellow Moonward Top of Casting (royal blue) Night of Devilry Fingerless Gloves (halatali yellow and snow white) Lunar Envoy's Longkilt of Casting (royal blue) Summer Sunset sandals

[asinglesock]

sometimes the horrible feeling in your stomach is anxiety but sometimes the horrible feeling in your stomach is because you are hungry. and sometimes you are both anxious and hungry. if you eat you might still be anxious but you will no longer be hungry.

[seventh-district]

several days and 15 thousand words later, i am relieved to report that the suffocating urge to Write Something has been sated and no longer has me in a chokehold

[askshivanulegacy]

It was SUCH a good scene. Though, contrary to the first post, it was INCREDIBLY justified, and that's part of what was so good about it.

Osha took all that hurt and betrayal, and it didn't matter that Sol was unarmed and not fighting back. The only thing that mattered was his terrible lie to make a child trust and believe in him just so he could have his Padawan, and the unprovoked murder he committed so he could have that Padawan.

He forgave her because he knew that he deserved what she gave him. He forgave her because maybe he finally understood the great evil he'd been committing for years.

Osha's actions were human. Her feelings were dark. Faced with the shock of this horrifically, terrible betrayal, you can debate whether they were evil. They were not unjustified, that's for sure. Sol got exactly what was coming to him, and that the show allowed Osha to unapologetically deliver that justice was wonderful.

One thing I did appreciate is that The Acolyte did not hold back on that Osha went full dark side, that Sol's kyber crystal was crushed by her anger and hate to the point that it bled into a red saber. She straight up murdered someone who was not fighting back. She killed him because she was hurt and angry, not because he was a threat. Osha's feelings of betrayal and rage were valid, her actions were not. She murdered an unarmed man who was not fighting back, who had no intention of fighting back, who literally forgave her as she choked the life out of him, and nothing of her actions were justified. She wasn't even regretful about it. The dark side can be humanized to a degree, it always has been in Star Wars, that's nothing new. Anakin's everything ever, Maul's pain and desperation for a connection through an apprentice, Dooku's clinging to his care for people like Yaddle or Asajj, the dark side has never been about detached or unsympathetic anger. It's always come from a very human place, that's why the Jedi constantly caution that no one is beyond it. But Osha embraced it here, she stepped over the line and murdered a defenseless man because of her rage, not because it was in any way justified as a killing, and the kyber crystal screamed and bled because of it. You don't get a red saber by being justified, you get it by crossing the line into an act of evil. And props to The Acolyte for not shying away from that, as human as Osha is and will continue to be, her actions were over the line of evil.

[captainamericasmotercycle]

Hiiii. I hope you are well. I would like to request a Cregan Stark x reader where they’re newlyweds and Cregan is doing everything he can to get reader to like him as she barely talks to him and keeps to herself because her mother basically told her to not expect him to be a kind gentle husband like the ones she’s read in books. The two slowly grow close once reader sees the effort Cregan has been putting in. Thank you!

i've never written for cregan before so i hope i did him justice <3

warnings: uncomfortable talk of women? (from your mother and sisters), you are his first wife (rickon doesn't exist yet), canon divergent, reader's family is not specified

a/n: this could possibly have a second part... all feedback is welcomed!!

When the news broke that Lord Cregan Stark was looking to take a new wife, your father was not hesitant to offer up your hand.

Your family resided close to the North, and your father needed Lord Stark as an ally in case any conflict arose suddenly. Within only a single moon, Lord Stark agreed to take you to wed.

It was not in your plans to be forced into a marriage, but rather find someone to love and live a long and prosperous life with.

"You know he is not going to be kind, not like the silly tales you read of," your mother, of course, prepared you for your impending doom of a marriage, as she implied.

You wanted to die. If only you were not a high-born lady, you could choose your fate.

"You cannot expect him to tend to you every moment of the day, at all even," you remember your older sisters joining the two of you, helping you to know what will become of you.

"He will take you as he wishes, and you will comply."

"You will lay with him until he finds pleasure and discards of you."

"But.. will I find pleasure?"

They laughed at you, both of your sisters and your mother. You did not wish to be trapped in a loveless marriage.

"No, if anything, he will find some cheap whore to busy himself with, until it is time for you to give him heirs."

"You mustn't talk to him unless spoken to first-"

"And you mustn't speak your mind, ever."

They filled your head with their advice until the day of your wedding. It was a small gathering just within the walls of Winterfell. Your family attended, as well as Cregan's uncle, a couple members of his council, and his half siblings.

During the post-ceremony celebration, you stayed timid, smiling gently whenever Cregan looked at you, or when your mother sent a pointed expressed to you.

You watched your brother, brothers-in-law, and father, eager to drink, but Cregan refrained.

Cregan tried to hold your hand, or lay his hand over your knee, succeeding in doing so, but you shied away from his touch, your body freezing up.

At the end of the night, the celebration winded down and you retreated to your new chambers, apart from Cregan's. You knew that he would be in to consummate the marriage soon, so you prepared yourself, trying to find a place in your head you could go to escape.

As your maidens dressed you for the night, a soft knock was heard on the door, one of your maids scurried to see who would come at such a late hour.

"My Lady Stark, it is your lord husband."

Lady Stark. Quite the title.

"Let him in, and leave us."

She and the other maids left the newlyweds as requested. He stood at the door, quite the ways away from you.

"Did you enjoy the celebration?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Please, call me Cregan, I am your husband now."

"Yes, my- Cregan," he moved slightly towards you.

"Have I done something to offend you?"

"No, my lord."

"Cregan. And are you sure?"

"Yes, Cregan. I apologize, husband if I have not been attentive enough. I can be better, I promise. I can be a good wife," you begged him.

He said your name softly, seeing the utter fear in your eyes, "You have been perfect; there is no need for you to upset yourself."

"Have you come to consumate the marriage?"

"I figured you were too tired. Do you want to?"

You were taken aback by his question, you hadn't expected him to ask about you.

"I- I think I would prefer to rest," you bowed your head at him.

"As you wish, wife. I will see you in the morn," he walked to you and gently kissed the top of your head, then retreated to his own quarters.

-

The morn came and you were still not talking to him. Maybe you were just nervous to be away from your home is all and you just wanted some time to adjust to your new life.

Weeks passed and he tried to talk to you, but you only answered him with short responses. This worried him, what had he done to hurt you?

He decided to send you a new pelt, incase you wished to explore the gardens or the outside walls of Winterfell. He hoped to hear from you about the gift, but no word came back except for a thank you from your maid.

He did not understand why you would not talk to him. He began sending flowers almost every morn with your meal, he gifted you a horse, (which you had not even attempted to see since the first time he showed you), and he even went as far as obtaining you a direwolf pup as a wedding gift. The pup became as reclused as you.

He became frustrated with his failed attempts to connect with you, sulking around Winterfell, and it was very apparent in his commands.

He hadn't taken a trip to the wall in weeks, and he commanded his men to finish outrageous requests; lashing out at anyone who questioned him or seemed to breathe the wrong way.

You had not been eager to seek him out or talk to him, not even trying to leave the walls of Winterfell to explore the nearing city; just staying in the comfort of the castle's library and your chambers.

He wanted to see you, to build a bond with his new wife, but most of the time he was unable to find you; it seemed that you were hiding from him.

After almost a moon of short interactions and dodging his every move, he was ready to beg, luckily he finally cornered you in your chambers.

Instead of a maid coming to fetch you for supper, Cregan insisted that he go instead. He pushed open your doors, finding you sitting with a book near the window, your much larger direwolf pup at your feet

Your head shot up at the sudden noise, louder than you were used to at this hour. You set down your book, ready to stand at his presence, but he stalked over to you rather quickly.

He dropped to his knees at your feet, startling you, he stated your name, "Please tell me what I have done, I wish to see you, to speak to you."

"You have done nothing, husband. I will speak if you wish it."

"No! I want you to speak freely, what has made you shy away from me? I am trying to know you, to love you. Please, just tell me!"

Your gaze softened, "You want to love me?"

His face changed to confusion, "Of course. Have I dont something to make you assume otherwise?"

"Not you..."

"Who. Tell me. I will have their tongues."

"My mother... and my sisters. They spoke that you would not be kind, that I should not speak freely near you... that you would be too busy with cheap whores to notice me until you wanted an heir."

He set his large hands on your knees, "Every word of that is so untrue. I married you because I want to love you. Let me."

You looked at his eyes, yearning in them, "I want you to love me."

He pulled you to stand with him. He tugged you by the waist into him, peppering you with kisses, one near your eyebrow, one on your cheek, one on the tip of your nose, and finally one at the corner of your mouth. You smiled at him and his actions.

"There's that smile I so desperately have been wanting to see for over a moon."

You set your hands on either side of his face, kissing his lips softly, "I'm sorry that I have been so distant, I should have seen your efforts."

"I hold no grudge against you wife, I am just happy you are giving me another chance," he kissed you again.

"Shall we go to supper?" You nodded as he took your hand.

"Good. I think my men will be pleased to hear of our reconcile. I fear I have been more than unpleasant," you kissed his jaw.

"Well, we owe them an apology don't we?"

[spectral-phases]

I need people to stop getting so precious about Clark "not letting" Bruce kill the Joker after Jason’s death post-Crisis. Everyone acts like it was like this:

But it was more:

So, we all know the story. Actually. Wait. Maybe we don't. So. The story beneath the cut.

Jason got benched as being Robin because he was not dealing well with his parents' deaths, felt like he was no longer wanted because he was adopted specifically to be Robin (and Bruce is shit at making his kids feel loved a lot of times). Jason discovered the woman who raised him was his step mother, not his bio mother. He goes looking for bio mom. Finds bio mom, she hugs him and tells him she's missed him so much, Bruce contemplates letting Jason live with his family if that would make him happier despite being obviously cut up about the idea of losing Jason. Bio mom is being extorted by the Joker to let him ship out Joker Venom disguised as medical supplies because he can't just steal the supplies and sell them. Bruce has to go stop the shipment of Joker Venom, his portable chopper is too small for two, so Jason is left behind. Jason is told to wait, but The Killing Joke just happened and his bio mom is alone with the Joker (who is insane, capricious and evil), so, obviously he has to save his mother and could not wait. Bio Mom is outside, no guards, Jason says, "Hey, I'm actually Robin, I'm here to save you from the Joker" and she says "Nah, he's actually gone, so I'm fine. But let's go inside so I can grab my things and we can leave." Her things turn out to be a gun to point at Jason after leading him to the Joker. Jason is too stunned to move. The Joker and his goons beat Jason up and then the Joker uses the crowbar to finish beating him to a presumed death. His bio mom at some point couldn't bear to watch it anymore and turns around to smoke a cigarette. Once Joker’s done, bio mom asks what they're going to do about Batman, and the Joker is all "oh. Yeah, lol. Probably was a bad idea to kill his kid. Whoops. My bad." And then ties up the bio mom to kill her and erase any evidence he brutally attacked/killed Jason. The Joker sets a bomb on a timer and leaves. Jason uses the last of his strength to untie his bio mom so she can escape. He can't see well enough to try and disarm the bomb. She tries to get them both out. The door is locked. Jason shields her as the bomb goes off, but she dies just as Batman comes up and tells him the Joker did it, calls Jason a hero, says he deserved a better mother (he did) but does not/is unable to own up to her part in Jason’s death before dying herself. Bruce finds Jason’s body and is fucking devastated.

So after that, Bruce chases the Joker down to the UN because the Joker lucked into being a diplomat for Iran and is now meeting at the UN assembly in New York. Bruce is 100% set on doing a premeditated murder of the Joker for Jason. The US government is aware of this. They hire Superman to grab Batman to try and talk him down because the Joker has diplomatic immunity for past crimes. It does not go well.

"That’s the law, not Justice." Batman is 100% still going to kill the Joker. Everyone knows. Superman knows. Superman says the stupid thing is putting vengeance above the interests of the country, not killing Joker.

Batman sneaks into the Joker’s room, and the Joker (forgetting his earlier desire to not get fucking killed by Batman) is like "oh man, I wish I could have seen your face when you found his body" and further needles Bruce with a "Or are you here to thank me for getting rid of him for you?" Making Bruce triple down on killing the Joker.

"Your confirming it makes what I have to do a lot easier."

Bruce manages to get in to observe the UN meeting as Bruce Wayne. Superman is disguised as a guard. Bruce is seething, watching the Joker, knowing that is the guy who killed Jason.

"I should have terminated his vile existence years ago. But I didn't. I couldn't. His insanity gained him a stay of execution. But no longer. ... Jason’s dead."

They both know the Joker is too stupid and lacks the impulse control needed to not attack the UN and immediately lose his immunity, which is the only thing keeping him alive. Joker releases Joker Venom to kill the delegates. Superman super breathes to inhale all the gas, which he's immune to because he's Superman and then says this as he leaves to go find a place to release the poison gas safely.

"Batman, he's all yours."

Superman basically says "You can kill him now" because he knows Batman’s mind has not changed, and Superman had not once tried to say "killing Joker would be wrong" just that it couldn't happen before the Joker acted in a way that lost him his immunity.

And Bruce does go to do just that. He chases the Joker down, intent to kill, and jumps onto the helicopter the Joker is using to escape. One of the guys fires at Batman. It shoots the pilot, hits the Joker in damn near his heart, if not his heart, and Batman realizes the helicopter is going down and decides to jump and leave the Joker behind. He intends for the Joker to die in the crash.

Okay? Bruce was 100% going to kill the Joker for killing Jason. Superman said "hang on. Let him get enough rope to hang himself first and then you can do it." And then Joker only survived because comic books. And Bruce is unhappy about having to wait. Superman did not try to talk Bruce out of killing the Joker at all ever, or scold him for wanting to kill the Joker. (Don't say he was rescuing the Joker in that last panel. The next panel is Superman fishing Batman, who is shot in the arm, from the harbor, and Batman telling Superman to go find the body. Find the body! And Superman does go to do just that, but is unable to).

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[potofsoup]

i love your fourth of july comics every year but this years feels extremely optimistic about biden’s abilities in the face of him letting roe get overturned and funding a gen*cide at worst or letting it happen at best by taking the bare minimum of regulatory action… i mean can he really be trusted at all anymore to do the right thing or act in line with the people’s demands? and how do we know the people behind project 2025 won’t just rig the election again to get in under false pretenses?

Hihi! Thank you for reading and enjoying my July 4th comics every year! I am in a non-US airport en route to a month-long trip in a place with sketchy internet, so sorry in advance for sloppiness in my response (and potentially going radio silent).

But:

I don't think he "let" Roe get overturned, since that was the Supreme Court's overwhelming conservative majority, which really started with Mitch McConnell refusing to approve Obama's appointee and forcing it into a 2016 election issue. The fact that Trump got to appoint 3 Supreme Court Justices is what got us here.

Re: Biden and the Israel/Hamas war ... on the one hand, there's definitely more that he could have done, but on the other hand, they are a whole other country over there. It's Hamas that initiated the Oct 7 attacks and took the hostages. It's Netanyahu and his right-wing government who decided to retaliate to such extreme extent. Biden can talk about how he would really like Netanyahu to stop fighting and step down, but at the end of the day that's not his call, any more than he can stop the Sudan fighting that is near-genocidal either.

So, to come to your question #1: "Can he really be trusted at all anymore to do the right thing or act in line with the people’s demands"?

For me, it's a resounding YES. Guyz, he has passed so much good domestic policies. My spouse works in green energy and the passing of the Inflation Reduction Act halved his anxiety and gave him legitimate hope. The tumblr post I linked to in my comic has links to many of the other great things that Biden has done. Tbh I voted for him in 2020 because "a moldy onion is still better than Trump", and I've been pleasantly surprised. Like how he tried to cancel student loans, the Supreme Court overturned it, and then he came back 6 months later with a different way to do it that didn't lead to a court challenge.

Is he perfect? Hell no. There's tons of stuff that I wish he did more about, or he went further on, but also he's just one guy heading one branch of government who is heading into an election year. (Just like FDR promising not joining WWII, while behind the scenes doing all the Lend-Lease Act stuff). And "the people" have lots of demands, many of them conflicting.

I'd also like to push at the unspoken part of your question... "Can he really be trusted to do the right thing..." compared to whom? Because right now the answer is "compared to Trump." And compared to Trump... I don't even trust Trump to respect the results of a legitimate election. Heck, he might just take his favorite state secrets, sell them to the highest bidder (or just show them off to someone for funzies), and then claim Presidential immunity. A decent Democrat who got stuff done vs someone who probably wants to pardon himself and all his friends and do Project 2025 stuff is not even on the same level. (Do I wish that there was a viable Democratic alternative to Biden? Sure! But who?) Heck, at this point -- imagine if it's Kamala Harris vs. Trump. Who would you vote for?

As for your question #2: "How do we know the people behind project 2025 won’t just rig the election again to get in under false pretenses?"

We don't. But also what can we do besides showing up to vote?

Actually, I need bullet points for this:

The 2022 midterm elections brought in fewer-than-expected election-deniers into crucial electoral offices at the state level, which means that hopefully most state electoral boards will continue to have integrity

Yes, voting is harder but at least we can still vote. So it's about getting out there and getting your vote counted. For some states, it involves waiting in 8 hour lines. For some states, it involves bringing 2 forms of ID. Document. Track. Make sure it's dropped off in a real ballot box and not a fake one. Don't believe messaging that the voting is happening on a different day or location, etc.

A 50.1% majority is easily challenged. A 55% majority, less so. Which means getting people out to vote.

The more people know about and think about the reality of a second Trump term (versus being disappointed by a Biden term), the more they will be motivated to vote against Trump.

Finally, let's be real here: I'm braced for a 2nd Trump term. That said:

I'm still going to go and vote for Biden, because the only way to prevent a 2nd Trump term is to vote.

A Trump term where either the House or Senate is controlled by the Democrats will be *very* different from a clean Republican sweep.

Even with a clean Republican sweep on the federal level, States have so much more power now, and voting the state level stuff will help shore up Democratic goals for the future. States get to draw voting districts however they want. States get to decide on abortion policies. If you live in a deep Red state, there still might be things to vote for that make it easier to live in now, and turn it purple a few elections down the line.

So at the end of the day, it's "Vote AND". Vote and keep living your best life. Vote and tell others about Project 2025. Vote and have hope. Even if Trump wins, at least you'll have voted against him. Vote and stay to build up a progressive wave for the next election.

[lis-likes-fics]

Matters of Propriety

Pairings: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader, Rhaenyra Targaryen x Laenor Velaryon (Platonic) Word Count: 6.4k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, constant use of metaphors, reference to homosexuality as an illness, fingering, oral (f!receiving), soft dom!Rhaenyra, consensual adultery, useless lesbians, kinktober... A/N: I love Rhaenyra. She's so scrumptious and I enjoyed writing this. I wish I could have done more bc I don't feel like I did her dominance justice, but, given the circumstance, it's actually not an issue. Anyway, enjoy and Happy Halloween!

Rhaenyra brings a hand to her tired eyes, working away at the warmth in her temple as she looks upon her husband. “Do you toil in anything but sea and sex, husband?”

Laenor is especially restless today, just in a more excited way. He's practically beaming from ear and ear as he shares the gossip he's learned with his wife. Although it's a pleasant thing to see him so full of life, Rhaenyra would humbly ask for some rest if she were not so busy today.

Laenor rolls his eyes more pleasantly than she. He turns his back to tidy the scrolls piled on a table. “This isn't sea or sex. It's gossip.” He glances over his shoulder mischievously. “And, yes, I do.”

Rhaenyra sighs. “What are the matters of a servant girl’s likes of sex to me?” Her brows furrow, a light sheen of humor in her voice as she tilts her head. “What are they to you? Might I remind you, Laenor, you prefer snake to oyster.”

Laenor laughs. “And even if she's meant to prefer the same, just as you do, she does not.” He lets out another giddy laugh, like he's thought of some witty banter to add on. “Anyone who feasts upon the wrong meal is my friend.” He turns and leans against the table, looking at her with a quirked brow. “She's your friend, too, Rhaenyra.”

The way he says it makes her squint. “And what is that meant to mean?”

He smirks. “She's one of your servants.”

“Who?”

“Your favorite.”

Now her interest is piqued. She tilts her toward him, almost scoffing as she considers this. “Truly?”

He comes over, leaning over a chair and shrugging. “What reason have I to lie?”

“Entertainment.”

He scoffs, plopping down in the seat opposite her. “I find entertainment in this without need for deceit.” He watches her, watches the way her face shifts as she thinks about what he's just told her. It's surely just rumor. But a rumor like this could be deadly—of course, he knows better than to spread something so dangerous. “Admit it. You're interested.”

She takes in a deep breath, standing to act like she's got better things to do. And she should…but at the moment, she's got nothing to occupy herself until the small council meeting.

“I have no need to be interested.”

He chuckles, rolling his eyes in amusement. “You prefer snake.”

“I do.” She turns away. “Besides, what is there to like without the usefulness of an extra appendage?”

His smirk is diabolical. “Why don't you ask her yourself?”

She tilts her chin up, humoring him for the sake of humoring him. “Perhaps I will.”

It's a wonder his smile grows. It had already been split so far that she wondered if someone had taken a knife to it.

“Excellent!”

~

Rhaenyra is settled in one of the rare moments where she has time to herself. Laenor is on one of his many ventures, she has no appointments, and no one has come to bother her yet. She's been busying herself with needlework (though she knows she has a terrible hand in it, it gives her something to do).

When someone knocks on the door, she glances up and mutters a distant, “Come.”

The door opens. “Princess.” She glances up at the voice, one she recognizes well. You bow gently, offering a smile as you hold out your tray. “I brought your tea, if it please you.”

Rhaenyra smiles, nodding and allowing you farther inside. “Thank you.”

You come and sit the tray down on the table, pouring her cup and adding her sugar. “Would you like me to bring anything, my princess?”

She shakes her head. “That won't be necessary. Thank you,” she says again.

You hum. Once her tea is prepared, you move to tidy her room. There's no real mess, but the longer you spend in here, the less time you have to spend doing other tedious and mind-numbing work. Besides, the princess has expressed to you how she doesn't mind your presence. You prefer to be here.

You start gathering empty cups and any forgotten dishes, wiping as you go. “If you don’t mind my asking, Princess, how fares your day?” You know she doesn’t mind, but you’ll never be able to shake your impulsion toward over-politeness. “It’s been quite lovely out.”

“That it has,” she says. Rhaenyra sets down her canvas, reaching for her cup to take a sip of the tea you’d so graciously brought her. “Meanwhile, I have been confined to the castle doing court duties and pretending the men are actually listening to me.”

A stray chuckle seeps from your nose. “One day, you shall be queen, my princess, and then they will have to listen to you.”

Rhaenyra’s chuckle is more rueful, but just as stray as yours. “That day can’t come soon enough, it seems.”

She likes the way you address her. Most of the people here call her princess with such emphasis, as if they were reminding her of her place as though it were eternal. She is the heir to the throne, yet they call her princess almost like they were saying “peasant”. When you say it, “my princess”, she almost thinks for a moment that she is already Queen.

Rhaenyra hums, glancing at you as you feather thin dust from shelves. Laenor’s words echo in her mind. She had almost forgotten the rumor she’d heard, almost let it slip her mind in the time between seeing the two of you. As she watches you, it’s glued in her mind, stuck like honey in her head.

She imagines it now. Your lips against a woman’s—a woman’s whose lips are suspiciously pale and whose nose is suspiciously distinct.

“Some gossip has come about me from my husband today,” she says without much thought. It slips out more than she means to say it. Even her tone has become shifty in the last moment. “It seems he’s as bored as to listen to the rumors of the servants in the Keep.”

You hum without turning, still stalling to avoid going back to work. “Is that so, Princess? What rumors, if I may ask?”

She chooses her words carefully, slowly. “Rumors of a servant girl with…queer customs.”

Your hesitance was almost indistinguishable. You could have gotten away with it, but she’s watching too closely. You continue almost without a hitch. “What sort of queer customs?”

Rhaenyra licks her bottom lip. “Ones that make her adverse to the taste of sailors…or sea-men, in other words.” She almost couldn’t believe herself. She’s turned to her husband’s humor.

There’s a long pause where you consider her words, wondering if they’re funny or thoroughly ridiculous. You suppose they’re both. “I do not know many who prefer the taste of…sea-men, as you say.” You don’t look at her. You keep your gaze solely on task. “Though a different story can be told of sailors.”

Rhaenyra shifts her whole body toward you, tilting her head and smirking lightly in a less-than-subtle investigation. “Do you like it?”

You purse your lips, considering your options.Your belly churns. “Would it be rude not to answer, my princess?”

She hums. “Well, it is generally frowned upon to disobey your masters.” She doesn’t want to pressure you, but she’s far too intrigued now to let it go. She doesn’t quite know why.

You sigh gently, thinking for a moment. She’s right. You try to find solace in the fact that you don’t think she’s the type to look down upon you and order your execution because of your…your perversions.

You’d hoped to keep it secret forever. You’ve even tried to fix yourself of your sickness, but you’ve found that it is something that cannot be done.

“Truthfully…” you mutter, your heart aching in a sad way, “No, Your Highness, I do not like…” you’re getting a bit exhausted of the metaphor but you would rather not change to practical terms when talking to the princess, “...sea-men.”

She looks away from you, and you’re grateful for it because you can pretend to busy yourself again. “I suppose that’s understandable enough. They can be quite salty in nature.”

Gods be good.

“Yes. Quite,” you mumble dismissively. You know you shouldn’t ask, but it’s eating away at you. You could be in danger… “If you don’t mind my asking, Princess, where did Ser Laenor hear such a rumor?”

She tries not to make a joke about his tastes. “Who knows where he finds his gossip?” You hum in agreement to dismiss it.

Rhaenyra’s curiosity is probably what got the better of her. She didn't fully intend to ask, but Laenor's words from below are stuck in her head. “Why don't you ask her yourself?”

“I wonder what fun it could truly be.” She waves a hand, taking a sip from her near forgotten tea. “Seeing as it could only be used for fun in this instance; there's no duty without the injection.”

You swallow thickly. “I wouldn't say simply fun.” You shouldn't say anything at all. “Though it does remove transaction from the activity.” You sigh, faltering to keep up the ruse with your unnecessary feathering of clean shelves. You turn toward her, running your fingers through the slightly dusty feathers. “With something like this, there must be trust.”

Rhaenyra watches you closely, the way you speak of it. It's more blatant than you should be in this circumstance, but she's not really focused on that when she's too busy studying the crease between your brows or the softness of your lips.

“Without trust, there is no fun or intimacy in it. Without fun or intimacy, there is no pleasure. You must be willing to give up a part of yourself and accept a part of someone else.”

There's a silence where you watch each other. You're quick to realize your mistake as you physically take a step back, looking down at your feet and hiding your embarrassment. She doesn't say anything, she just watches you with this look you can't decipher.

“Forgive me, Princess.” You bow your head and drop your hands by your side. You turn quickly, unsure what else to do. “In truth, I simply worry for the girl. She could be in quite a lot of danger if she were to be exposed. I shall pray to the Mother for her safety.”

You should leave. You've likely overstayed your welcome.

Rhaenyra breaks away from her thoughts, trying to organize them as she sits a little straighter. She sets her cup down on the table before her. She hums, trying to be light-hearted again but failing with the way her head is so full of your words. “‘Tis a shame, really,” she clears her throat, “that such a thing is of such offense.” She takes a breath and stands, just to give her something to do as she circles the sofa and leans against it.

“Pleasure is pleasure. Who should care where a man chooses to stick it? Or, perhaps, where a woman…” she falters. “Well, we don't have anything to stick, do we?” She should forget about it. “I simply wonder how…the deed is done without the…tool.” She decides she just likes to hear you speak.

“Well…” you still don't watch her, though you hesitate in the middle of your task, “I would not believe it to be as difficult as it would seem.” You take up a light blanket to fold.

She raises a brow. “Is that so?” She strokes the back of the couch with a ring-clad hand. “Tell me, how do you suppose it's done?”

“Princess?”

She shrugs in faux innocence. “I'm simply curious. Of course, if you have other duties to tend to.”

What she's proposing has no shortage of lack of propriety. It would be even worse if you responded. But…

Your gaze drifts down to her hand, a stray thought in your mind imagining the fabric was your flesh. When she squeezes lightly, you hate that you imagine her hands wrapping around your thigh…just to feel.

It is generally frowned upon to disobey your masters.

You swallow a lump in your throat, that you assume is nerves over want. It cannot be want.

“Well…if I had to guess, I would assume she could use,” you hesitate, “her hands.”

Rhaenyra doesn't have the thought to raise a curious brow. Her face doesn't change much as she stares at you, strangely hooded as you pass it on for confusion instead of what you recognize it to be.

“Just the same as a man could…” your words become a little quieter, “...or rather, as a man chooses not to, in my experience.”

Rhaenyra inches closer. It doesn't register. “How would she use them?” How could her voice be so smooth? It's like a layer of velvet on your skin, and you don't know how to manage that.

“Any way she saw fit.” You hadn't expected your voice to dip as it had, a richer tone influenced by the way she watches you. You hadn't realized the way your finger dipped between the fold of the blanket you've been holding for the last couple minutes. “You could just feel, massage, you could.. You could use them in place of a man's tool. Of course, they would not eject.”

Her chuckle is so shallow, with no real intent to emphasize humor. Her thoughts are confusing.

“No, I suppose not,” she mutters. She steps even closer, tilting her head. “Would her hands be all she would use?”

It's a strange thing, knowing more than the princess—informing the princess on what you know. She listens with such curiosity, such interest. You have to stifle the pull in your chest. It isn't proper. You shouldn't be telling her about any of this—it isn't proper.

But you carry on because you can't help it. Not when she looks at you like that.

You lick your bottom lip absently. “Well, if they were, my princess, what would be the point of the taste for sailors? Rather than simply the touch of them? Women often prefer a sailor’s salty taste. Some men have an indulgence for, not just the bee, but the honey, too.”

You hadn't realized you'd both gotten so close. She's only a few feet from you now, staring at you with eyes that should not be regarding you in such a way. “And if you had a taste for honey? How would you indulge?”

“Frequently.” Rhaenyra had not meant to gasp the way she did. It's soft and barely audible, but you catch it. It's hard to miss anything when she's so close, staring you in the eyes, running her fingers together with gentle brushes of skin.

You break the heavy eye contact with a glance down. “But I assume that would pose a challenge, as not many bees prefer their honey to be tasted by other bees, especially if not by a man.” You shake your head, looking back at her with a new kind of certainty. “No, many bees prefer the sailor and their sea.”

You hate the gods for making you as they did, but sometimes you hate them for making everyone else as they are instead. If you had to come out so wrong, why could no one else join you?

Rhaenyra can see this in your eyes. It's just a little glint, but she recognizes the same look in her husband from time to time. The difference is that he's allowed his indulgences in secret. You must have more trouble. Women always have more trouble…

Her breath is light when she breathes. “And what if one was willing to try?”

You look at her quickly, eyes wide and a little skeptical. “To try, Princess?”

“The indulging.” The step she takes is long. She stands right before you now, hardly a foot away. “Or even allowing one a taste of it? Say this…servant girl, perhaps?”

You squeeze your thighs together, though you don't mean to. She's a very intimidating person, and it makes you falter in your reasoning for why all of this is a terrible idea.

“I'd say…maybe she'd agree.” She's so close. If you took a step, leaned in just a bit…

“But there are many things to consider.” You step around her, ridding yourself of the closeness to put space between you. This is dangerous, she is dangerous. The way she looks at you, the way she makes you feel. It's not fair, and it's not right.

She spins around, dizzy from the sudden break in tension. “What sort of things?”

You drop the blanket on a chair and run your hands down your apron, an attempt to center yourself. “Things like…like whether or not this woman, potentially even a princess so interested in tasting, has a husband? A royal one, at that?” You shake your head. “This servant could be killed.”

Rhaenyra sighs, waving a hand as she looks upon your back. “If a person was killed every time they tried other indulgences, we would have very few people left in the world.”

You turn toward her, but make no move to come closer. “Even still.”

“What if this princess,” she closes the distance again, this time scooping your hands into her own. Her hands are very warm, much warmer than your own. They are only contrasted by the chill of golden rings. It's inviting as you try not to lean into her touch. You can't look at her. You're already breaking so many rules by letting her touch you. You're breaking rules by talking of such things with her.

“What if she were to tell the servant that her royal husband has his own tastes to favor? Not in bees, but in sailors?”

Royal husbands are a much different standard than lowly servants. But the only thing in your mind with such a proposal is, “And what if the princess dislikes the servant's work?”

You shudder when her warm palm envelopes your cheek. Your eyes flutter, and you look into her eyes. What a temptress she is, to look at you like that. To look so deeply into your eyes that you falter every time you come from a blink.

This is one of the only times when you're grateful for your sickness. If you had not been the way you were, her beauty would be so ordinary to you. She is anything but.

“Then she shall decide for herself.”

Your voice is so soft now, afraid to rupture this feeling between you. You feel manipulated, but you can't bring yourself to mind. If your roles had been reversed, you'd likely do the same.

“What if something happens?” You raise a hand to cover the back of hers. “If someone sees? There are many things to be considered.”

Her hand slips down from your cheek to grasp your chin between her forefinger and thumb. “If you wish not to continue, then you may yo. But it's as you said…” she's so close, you can feel her shallow breath on your lips, “this requires trust.”

Your eyes dart between her own, taking in every feature of her face. Gods, how beautiful is she?

She leans in, tilting her head in such a way that you become dizzy. “Will you put your trust in your princess?”

How could you refuse?

“Yes.”

“Then who's to say it's wrong?”

Your breaths mingle. She leans in quickly, and your breath hitches in anticipation of the kiss. Just as they barely brush, she pulls back again. It becomes this dance, a back-and-forth, push-and-pull. You know she's playing with you, and you invite her in full compliance. You would be her court jester if only she asked.

When she kisses you, it's maddening. Your thoughts are blurred in a swirling motion in your head. Your ears become fuzzy, your lungs already ache. You breathe her essence in through your nose and out through your mouth as she pulls you in by the back of your neck. She tastes of sweet wine, of grapes and blueberries.

Your hands grasp at her sides, pulling at the fabric wrapped securely around her body. “Princess,” you gasp against her lips.

You feel her lips curl against your own, her smirk fueling a fire between the both of you. “Shh,” she says between kisses. Her palms cup your face, her lidded eyes taking in the sight of you so close. “Just show me how you do it.”

You lean in to gather her lips again, your breaths heavy between you. You walk her back, pushing her up against the wall as your hands explore the length of her body. Your lips trail over her own, kissing the corner of her mouth and slipping down to her neck. Your teeth nip at her skin, your tongue laps, your lips suck. Her eyes flutter closed as she leans into it. Her hands grip your arms and beg you not to go.

You pull away from her then, your bodies still flush against one another as you take in the sight of her. Her eyes are of lavender, her skin is of ivory, her hair is of silkweed. She’s dripped in maroon and pearls. As you brush your knuckles down her cheek, smiling as you move to kiss her again.

There’s a soft smack of your lips as you pull away. Pinching her chin between your fingers as she had done yours, you whisper so closely to her lips that they brush with each word. “You are so beautiful, my princess.”

She stares at you. She had been called beautiful before. She has known intimacy and she has known passion, but there is something in the way that you speak to her that has her chest aching. A heavy breath puffs shallowly from her mouth.

Before she says anything, you kiss her again as your hand reaches down to collect fistfulls of fabric. You press a kiss to her collarbone, nipping lightly as her breath hitches. You slip to your knees, dipping your hands beneath her dress and pressing your hands to the thinly veiled skin of her legs. Her stockings stop just above her knee, tied neatly that morning while she was readying herself for the day.

She watches you, her eyes dark but so intently focused on you. You look up at her as you ride her dress, layer upon layer, up the length of her body. She reaches down and captures it, holding it in her hands and relieving you of the duty.

You’re holding your breath when you lean in to press a chaste kiss to the inside of her thigh. Her skin is so warm. If she had not been so soft, too, you would have wondered if she’d really been a dragon all along. You cup the back of her thigh in your hand, stroking up and down and enjoying the feeling of such smooth flesh.

You shift her leg over your shoulder, turning your head to kiss her thigh again. Her breath, although thick and shallow, is such a gentle thing. She never tears her gaze away. Her hips jerk lightly when your excitement manifests in little nips into her skin. There’s a pleasant feeling that stems from it.

“Must you tease?” Rhaenyra huffs, though not of any real offense. Her chest rises and falls like she’s ready to burst. A swell of pride blooms in your chest at the knowledge that she could be so aching for your touch.

“Apologies, Princess,” you smile, raising a tentative hand farther up the side of her thigh to bring her closer. You move so slowly as you inch toward her, this aching need which you have yet to see but can smell so dearly. “May I?” you whisper, so softly that you are almost unheard.

Her leg shifts to push her heel into your shoulder blade, not roughly but in a way to induce haste. She brings you just a bit closer, dipping her head. “You may.”

Just as soon as the permission leaves her throat, you attach yourself to her. You dip your tongue between her folds. You lick and suckle around her pearl. Arousal has already seeped from her need and is painting your tongue.

Rhaenyra’s hips cant forward, and there's a slight shudder. As one of her hands desperately grasps at her dress, the other reaches down to card through your hair.

You flick your tongue along the seam of her cunt. You really had chosen the right word—honey. She tastes sweet, a filling nectar you would die to feast upon.Rhaenyra is eager to feel it all, amazed by how wonderful you are at this, better than even Ser Criston Cole—who had always been very eager to taste her in her youth.

She supposes it shouldn’t be so surprising. You both have the same parts, it would only make sense that you knew how to use them. Your dull nails dig into her ass, bringing her forward as you both rock against one another. Her moan catches in her throat, and her hand reaches forcefully out to take hold of the table at her side. She grips it tight in order to keep herself up, looking down at you as her chest struggles to keep up with her lust.

“You are very eager to please,” her voice shakes.

You stroke your tongue along the length of her cunt, pressing a messy kiss into her pearl as you pull back just enough to speak. “That is not a difficult feat when you taste as good as you do.” A rough kind of whine slips when you suck around her pearl. “I was right about the honey.”

She smiles in the middle of the rock of her hips. “I might have to taste a sample myself. Just to check. Ah–!” Her hand flies out to take hold of your hair again, just to ground herself when you lap your tongue inside of her. “Right there,” she groans, her voice lower now with the coming of her relief. “Oh, gods, don’t stop.”

You focus on her pearl now, lapping and laving at it with all the strength you have left in your tongue. It’s a bit tired from the work, but it’s a good kind of feeling when you’re being rewarded so generously. The fat of her thigh is a welcomed weight on your shoulder, an even better weight in your hand as you stroke your hand up and down the length of it. You squeeze it in fervent desire.

You can feel her clenching against your tongue, her hips become more jerky with their movement. You hum into her, anticipating her release as much as she does. Her breath stalls in her chest as it builds and builds.

Right as she's at the cusp, you murmur against her pearl. “Breathe, Princess.”

Just as she takes a breath, a crashing wave rolls over her. She trembles against you, gasping as her head whirls with the weight of her release. You hold her steady, lapping up the precious taste of her cunt with a desperate need. She jerks forward when you suckle gently on her sensitive pearl.

When the rush dies down to something a little easier, her breaths become deeper as a drunken smile finds her lips. “I could certainly make this a habit.”

You press your mouth into her thigh, laying a sweet kiss upon her skin. “Tis likely to be a bad one.”

She shakes her head, moving her leg off your shoulder and lifting you to stand with a curled finger under your chin. “Nothing bad about it.” She leans in, her lips hovering.

You pull away by the slightest inch, watching her gentle eyes. “Did I do well, my princess?” You lift your hand to cautiously rest at her back, your fingers curling through silver locks. “Have I pleased you?”

There's something about you that makes her head spin. “Yes, darling,” she rasps. “You are magnificent.”

You smile like she's given you an incredible gift, accepting her kiss with a similar enthusiasm than you'd accepted the honey between her plush thighs. You're needy in gluing your lips to hers, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her against you by the small of her back.

She eases your mouth from hers, her breath short from the greatness of your desire. “You can call me Rhaenyra. I feel we've reached the point where such formalities are no longer necessary.”

You chuckle breathily. “Of course, Princess.”

She pinches your chin. “Go sit.” She lets go of you.

Just for the humor, you dip into a curtsy, looking up through your lashes as you do. “Yes, my princess.”

You turn and walk toward the sofa, sitting with your legs pressed together and your hands upon your lap. She watches you for a moment, doing nothing but watching. Your humor is dissipating as you look away, unable to take the heat of her gaze.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare, sweetling?” she asks gently.

You nod. “A bit, yes.”

She takes a step closer. “Do not be nervous. I won't hurt you.”

“I know.”

She moves toward you, and you peek up at her with eyes wide in anticipation. She comes to stand in front of you, standing tall in all her glory and regality. She's ethereal, especially with the way the golden light of the evening is peering in through the windows.

She bends down, her hands on either side of your head as she boxes you in. You lose your breath. You don't think you'll ever be able to stand her being this close to you.

She kisses you. “Spread your legs for me.” You're shy, but you do as she asks. Your thighs inch farther apart as you indulge in the taste of her lips. Her hand cups your throat. Your breath stalls, and then starts again to inhale more of her.

You feel her palm trail down the column of your neck, her fingers tickling your throat. She moves down your front before she's riding the skirt of your dress and apron up your legs. When her hand touches your bare thigh, your hips jerk slightly. She shushes against your lips, moving closer and closer until her hand is cupping the wet of your cunt.

“Gods, you're dripping.” You want to say something, but you can't. Her middle finger sinks between your lips, parting them to make way for her intrusion. You clamp down on her finger, your hips rolling against her hand already.

She strokes inside of you, curling her finger and coaxing you closer. When she adds the second, a slight hum slips from her throat. You reach out, grabbing a hold of her arm.

“A little deeper,” you guide gently, tilting your hips up. When she adjusts, your head spins. “Fuck, Princess, right there.”

She focuses there, hovering over you as she presses her lips to your forehead, to lips, the tip of your nose. “Do you like that?” she huffs.

You nod, holding her arm tighter. “Yes. Yes, my princess.”

She dips her head down to your neck, and you whimper when she nips at your flesh. “You'll have to guide me,” she whispers into your ear.

You're a bit confused as she removes her fingers from you. You stifle your whine, watching with bated breath as this princess, the heir to the Targaryen throne, kneels before you. Her handmaiden. A lowly servant who was meant to stay beneath her.

She eases your leg over your shoulder just as you had done before. She presses her mouth against your thigh, kissing it and licking her lips. She looks you in the eyes, smirking as she brings her fingers to her mouth. She dips them between her lips, and the sigh that parts your lips leaves you breathless. She hums deeply. “I can see why you called it honey.”

You chuckle lightly. When Rhaenyra’s lips wrap around your cunt, you whimper. You're careful in setting your hand at the side of her head, carding your fingers through her hair. You don't grasp her, you don't guide her. You just hold her as you watch her with hooded eyes and parted lips.

She sucks on your folds, flicking her hot tongue along the seam of your cunt and slipping it inside clumsily. Either way, it's nice. It's not often you get attention like this, and from a princess?

“Up a little more, princess.” Your voice is light and high with pleasure. When she does as you say, your sigh is tinted with a whine. “Good. Right there.”

She suckles lightly at your pearl, licking and tasting with a curious intent. Her fingers prod at your pussy again, and you arch your back when she presses two inside.

Rhaenyra is a quick learner. Her pace is steady as she curls her fingers, coaxing them in and out of you with an eagerness that you had displayed before. Her lips and tongue work at your pearl, licking and sucking and making you feel like you'll burst any second.

“Please, don't stop,” you gasp. “You're amazing.”

There's a certain power in having someone desire you, blubbering with pleasure and begging for more. It goes straight to her head. She thrusts her fingers into you as though she wielded her own cock, she laps at your slick like she's been deprived of water for far too long. She huffs and groans, drunk on the taste of you, on the pleasure.

You've never met a woman so eager to please another. When they're not shy about indulging in something so forbidden, they're too used to professionalism to initiate intimacy. Having this kind of desire is hard and it's depriving. If Rhaenyra keeps this up, you'll make the mistake of falling utterly in love with her.

You bite your lip, trying to keep quiet to keep from alerting the knight at the door. The walls are thick, no one should hear you.

“I'm so close,” you whisper, rolling your hips in your haste to come. “Please, my princess, don't stop.”

When she hums, it comes with a desperate sort of sound. Your thighs tremble around her head, trying not to close her in. You become dizzy, your head spins with the weight of her pleasure. Your eyes squeeze shut and–

“Princess,” you bring a hand to your mouth, breathing heavily into your palm. Your hips roll and your mind whirls with the sensations of her lips sucking on your pulsing pearl, spurring you on and on. Her finger curls against a deep spot within you that has you seeing stars behind your eyes. “Fuck, Rhaenyra,” you curse, whimpering under your breath and losing composure.

Her hand slips out of you just to grasp your backside, pulling you in and devouring you as you continue to become slick with arousal. Her nose presses into your pearl when her tongue is too busy at your folds. Her warm breath fans over your skin in such a delicious way.

When your trembling has subsided, she eases away from you with a huff. She's got a drunken smile on her lips, her pupils blown wide and your eyes dark with pleasure. “I see why you enjoy that so much.”

You smile, catching your breath as she breaks away from you to crowd your space once more. Your tongue is heavy, and your words are sticky. You look at her like you'll be shattered if you don't hear what you want to hear. “Did I do well, my princess?”

She smiles, raising a hand to stroke your cheek with gentle knuckles. “You are perfect.” The look on your face is devastating. There's a bursting joy in your eyes, a kind of joy that only comes when it's been met with a considerable amount of sorrow.

She tilts your chin up, embracing you in a different kind of kiss. This one is all for you. She kisses you like she wants you to know something that she doesn't know how to say aloud, like she's telling you a secret that only you could ever understand.

She pulls away, still cupping your cheek. You swallow thickly, watching her and taking in every little feature of her face before you're forced to keep your head down once more.

“Will you regret it?” Your voice is so small that she almost misses it. If her nose had not still been brushing yours, she would have. “When I leave, and you've had the night to contemplate… will you regret letting me touch you? Will you regret…touching me?”

She wonders briefly who hurt you. You are such a good woman. You are loyal and eager to please. Not to mention, you are utterly beautiful.

She doesn't know quite how to navigate this. So instead, she sighs as she looks upon your face. Worry and doubt creases every little feature that lies there. She presses a kiss to your forehead, over the crease between your brows.

“No, sweet girl.”

You blink, taking her answer for what it is as you smile. “Okay,” you whisper.

She leans in to kiss you. There's a knock on the door.

Rhaenyra sighs, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips and straightening her back. “A moment.” She holds a hand for you, and you take it as she brings you to stand.

“Finish your work…” She pauses. “Will I see you again soon?”

You smile, nodding gently. “If my princess commands it.”

Her smirk soon follows. “She does.” She knows she's taking too long. “Goodbye, my darling.”

You nod. “Goodbye, my princess.”

You linger too long. You are wasting time. You break away from her, grabbing your tray of dishes, stacking her cold tea on top. When she's sure you're both decent, she sighs.

“Come.”

As the door opens, you give a curtsy. “Princess.”

She nods, but it's such a small movement that you'd question if she'd already forgotten you if you knew she wasn't doing it for appearances.

As you walk down the hall, you glance up when you see Ser Laenor walking toward you. You look up at him, pausing to curtsy.

He looks at you, giving you a smile that makes you nervous as he fully stops. You think you hear him sniff, and then his smile grows into something more mischievous. With a quiet chuckle, he wags his finger at you before turning on his heel to continue to—you assume to be—Rhaenyra’s chambers.

You continue walking, slowly this time as you try to figure out why he would react in such a way. You guide your nose toward your shoulder and almost freeze in place.

Gods be good… You smell like her.

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[suiana]

yandere hero x gn reader x yandere villain

"I love you."

"More than this country?"

"...I'm sorry."

You had expected this. Really. I mean, it would only be right for one person to die if it meant the lives of everyone else! Thus it would only make sense for a hero to sacrifice that one person, even if it was his lover. He couldn't be selfish, no. He had to place priority on everyone else. After all, that was the way of the hero.

Besides, there was a saying that a hero would sacrifice you for the rest of the world. You should've known better.

Yet you couldn't help but wish he would forget about his title of a hero just for a second.

You know how much being a hero was to him, you really do! Why else would you patiently wait for him to come home everyday to patch up his wounds? Why would you encourage him whenever he felt like a shitty hero? Why would you do what you did if you didn't understand? You loved him wholeheartedly, even if he didn't reciprocate it much.

However, it felt like you had made a mistake by choosing him as your lover. You should've left him when you had the chance. Caring more about the lives of civilians, he had stood you up on multiple occasions just for the sake of justice. You get it, you do! He's a hero, he's meant to help others. You can't be selfish and get mad at him when he's doing his job and not wasting time on a date with you! You tried to be accomodating. Tried to be understanding.

But he was still your lover.

He should've at least tried to make an effort. Not everything was meant to be about saving others when your relationship was on the verge of breaking. Yet you had never once gotten mad at him for his lack of attention and love, for you loved him with all your heart.

You tried to be delusional, that he would at least treasure you enough to not give you away to anyone else. If he didn't spend much time with you, so what? At least he wouldn't give you away! I mean, he did say that he would never allow anyone else to have you. He would at least honour that promise, right?

Wrong. He gave you up only after a minute of pondering. Oh... Your poor heart. Your poor, poor heart... You couldn't fathom what he had did, not in the slightest. Maybe it was a mistake? A slip of his tongue? You looked at him for comfort only to realise that he had meant what he had said. His guilty and crestfallen look was more than enough to tell you he had truly meant it. That he meant to gave you away.

You were absolutely heartbroken, devastated at the revelation. Clawing at his chest, screaming at him to take back his words, yet to no avail as he avoided your gaze. You felt more than betrayed by him.

You tried to understand his thoughts, his point of view. It was a rational decision. The world known villain had just threatened to blow up the country if he didn't hand his lover over. It was the right decision. But you just wished he had done anything to fight against the villain's demand. He was a hero after all and you were a civilian! He was supposed to protect you!

So why did he give you up so easily?

That, you could not understand. So all you could do was beg for him to reconsider. To hear him tell you that it was just a joke and that he would beat up the villain. Just like what he used to do. But nothing came from him. Only the quiet silence of someone who had already made up their mind.

"Well I guess I'll be taking you now darling~"

The villain suddenly chimed in as he tried to pull you away from the hero. His cold fingers gently tracing your bare shoulders sent shivers up your spine. You shook your head, still clinging onto your beloved hero's shirt as you wept and screamed at him to do something.

But nothing came.

"Please-?! Don't give me away! Don't you love me?!"

"I do... I really do love you."

"Then why are you giving me away so easily?! Is... Is this country more important than me?!"

No response.

You wept harder as you hit his chest, screaming at him to try and protect you against the villain who was amused at the sight before him. He retracted his cold hands from your shoulders, instead putting them in his pants pockets as he hummed softly.

"I'm sorry."

Your breath hitched as your lover softly pried your hands off his shirt. His shaky hands gently holding yours as his lower lip trembled. You could only stare in shock and hurt as he slowly handed you over, looking up at the villain in shame.

You wanted to laugh, you really did. But all you could muster was soft weeping as the villain gently cradled you in his embrace. You wanted to push him away, to curse at him and run back to the arms of your lover. But was it all worth it? The hero had already showed no intention of resisting the villain's demand.

You stared up at the villain with teary eyes, flinching at his touch as he stroked your face tenderly. Yet you couldn't help but lean into his oddly comforting touch that soothed you.

"What a shitty lover he is. Hah! Don't worry baby, I'll never do something like that to you~"

He cooed, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world. This... You had never seen such a look from the hero. Even when he claimed to love you, that you were the only person in his heart.

Your heart skipped a beat, face turning slightly red as the villain them scooped you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style.

This was nice... It made you feel wanted, feel loved. Something that the hero you loved could never give you. Maybe you should just give in already. At least you knew he would never give you up.

For there was a saying that a villain would sacrifice the world for you.

part 2

[gurugirl]

The Handyman | a check-in*

Summary: You and Harry throw a housewarming party and your ex shows up with some advice for whoever built the kitchen counter. Harry makes sure to prove to you how well-built his countertops really are.

A/N: Based on this idea! Previously posted on Patreon. Read the original one shot here.

Word Count: 3,613

Warning: smut, the tiniest touch of jealousy/possessiveness

❊❊❊

You hadn’t intended for your little housewarming party to turn into a whole thing. Harry said he’d help you invite people from town, a way to make more friends and get to know some of the locals a bit better. But then when your dad told your cousin that you were throwing a small party she let it slip to someone from your past. Van, your ex. She apologized, saying she didn’t think he’d be interested until he asked for more details. But you weren’t going to be rude and uninvite anyone because the house was big enough for everyone. And you did say “open invitation” after all.

“Y/n, it’s so nice to see you again,” Van pulled you in for a hug when he arrived. You put on your nicest smile and attempted to act happy to see him. And it wasn’t that you disliked the guy but the awkwardness of dealing with an ex you hadn’t seen in a while was a bit daunting.

“Oh my gosh. You too! I’m surprised to see you here. All the way out in the middle of nowhere!” It truly was a surprise. It was an hour’s drive from the city to get to your house. And even though your cousin told you she told him and he seemed interested, you half expected he wouldn’t show up.

You made small talk with him before excusing yourself to go to the kitchen except he followed you.

“This house really does look nice, Y/n. Did you have help with all this?”

“Thank you. And yes. I had someone help with everything. Harry’s been so amazing. Listened to what I wanted but he already had his own ideas which I loved so much. Kept almost everything original.”

Van ran his palm along the butcher block island and ducked down to check the construction of the cabinets beneath, “Who’s Harry?”

“Harry owns a small company doing all kinds of work for people in town. He helped me restore the whole place and landscape. I mean, he basically did all the work but… yeah. He’s also my boyfriend.”

Van raised a brow at you, “Boyfriend huh?”

“Yep. Boyfriend. He’s actually here somewhere.”

He nodded as he inspected the window over the sink, “Not sure if you remember or not but I became an architect. Wish you’d have called me. I could have really done this place justice. Sort of feels like some of this could have been upgraded.”

“Oh? Like what?”

You caught Harry’s eye when he stood at the entry between the kitchen and the dining room as he spoke to a few people he knew.

“Well this window for example,” Van pointed, “I would have pushed this whole wall out, made a breakfast nook over the patio since there’s so much space at the front. Could have put in built-in bench seating and it would have given you so much more light in the kitchen and increased the value of the property.”

“I mean that sounds really nice but I wanted it to be original. Expanding the walls and windows like that sounds like too much. And I’m not planning on selling it so increasing the value doesn’t appeal to me.”

“I just hope he knew what he was doing. If someone’s not quite qualified you could have shoddy workmanship that shows later. Like all the cabinets and these new countertops,” he knocked on the surface, “might look fine now but give them a year and you’ll see if it’s up to par.”

Suddenly Harry was wrapping his arms around your front and kissing your neck as Van was then suggesting a rebuild of the staircase to expand the width. You placed your hands over Harry’s forearms and grinned at the feel of his lips on your skin. His distraction had almost made you forget that Van was still talking until he slowly got quieter as he looked between you and Harry and realized you were no longer listening.

Harry kept his eyes on Van as he pressed warm kisses to your neck. It was a signal to Van. You were taken and you were happy and Harry wasn’t some pushover. You were his girl and he was letting Van know.

“This the ex you were telling me about,” he whispered into your ear so Van wouldn’t hear it.

You nodded and giggled, turning to look at Harry when Van cleared his throat.

Harry stood up straight and put his hands on your shoulders, “Sorry to interrupt like that. I’m Harry, Y/n’s boyfriend. You are?”

“Oh, I’m an old friend. I’m Van,” he put his hand out to shake and Harry wrapped his big palm around Van’s with a nod.

“Nice to meet you, Van. Now, what were you suggesting I do differently?”

Van’s eyes widened slightly, “Oh… I wasn’t saying you should do anything different… it’s just that there were some ideas…”

You were no longer interested in what Van had to say at all when you felt Harry’s hand slide down to your hip. It felt like a possessive move. You’d never known Harry to be jealous or anything but that whole exchange had you seeing a bit of a different side of him.

“Definitely some good ideas, Van. But we’re happy with keeping things original. Feel free to have a look around at everything if you like. Only room off limits is our bedroom upstairs that’s locked, but otherwise, knock yourself out.”

Neither you nor Van missed Harry saying our bedroom upstairs.

“Okay. Well, thank you. Yeah, I mean I think you’ve done a great job here and…” Now Van was backtracking.

Harry nodded, “The most important thing is that Y/n is happy with how everything turned out and the quality of construction is the best,” he rapped his knuckles on the countertop, his brow raised at Van.

Van kept his distance until he left a couple of hours later, only hugging you quickly and telling you, once again, how nice it was to see you. You weren’t sure why he showed up in the first place. Maybe, being an architect, he was genuinely curious about the new house you bought and had help restoring. Or maybe he was hoping to rekindle something long gone but then was caught off guard by Harry.

“I can see why you love it here,” your cousin nudged your arm as she ogled Harry who was talking to a woman animatedly.

You laughed softly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your boyfriend, obviously. Damn. Who knew small-town men looked like that? You’re living your Lifetime movie dreams babe. Old mansion, aunt’s inheritance, hot local who helped you fix the place up falls in love with you…”

You laughed through your nose and shook your head, “I’m not saying I’m not agreeing with you but… I would have stayed here with or without Harry. He’s just the cherry on top.”

“Oh, I bet he’s the cherry on top. So…” she looked around the space and then back at you, “He’s living here with you then?”

You nodded, “Yep. When we started dating it was just kind of the natural next step. I think my dad thought it was too fast but I didn’t want to be away from him at night anymore and he didn’t like it either. I suggested that he just stay and… well that’s really it. He’s here for good. Plus he put so much love into this house. It feels like it’s just as much as his as it is mine.”

You could admit, everything looked fantastic. Harry had made your home into something you could see yourself living in until you were old and grey. Something you were proud to show off to everyone. It was a labor of love, for both of you.

. . .

When everyone had gone, you were wiping up the countertop when your sponge was plucked from your hands and Harry pulled you back into his chest, “So Van thinks the construction of this counter isn’t well done?”

You turned in his arms and grinned up at him, “You know the construction is fine. It’s the best. Don’t worry about what he said. I don’t think he could tell from just looking anyway.”

“Did you like him a lot when you two dated?” Harry pushed you gently back toward the counter, your bottom hitting the edge.

“Why? You’re not jealous are you?”

Harry licked his lips and squeezed your hips before sliding his hands up to your waist and lifting you to sit on the smooth surface you’d just wiped down. You laughed and grasped onto his shoulders.

“Of course, I’m not jealous of Mr. Architect. But I do want to demonstrate how sturdy everything is. I’m not the type to cut corners, you know…” he dragged his big hands up your sides and one up your spine until his fingers found the back of your neck, collaring you with his big palm as he bumped his nose into yours.

You giggled and pushed your arms over his shoulders, “Seriously, Harry. I know how sturdy everything is. No need to prove anything to me.”

“Mmm… I know I don’t have to prove anything,” he smoothed his lips against yours gently, and slowly with the poke of the tip of his tongue at your plush lips igniting the furnace in your tummy that always simmered with need for him. But when he got like this… with his hands on your body and his mouth prodding at yours… the simmer turned into a boil.

You felt one of his hands travel down your hips and then to your thigh where he bunched the material of your skirt in his palm until he’d pushed the fabric out of his way and teased his finger up and down along the edge of your panties next to your crotch.

Spreading your legs for him you leaned back slightly and parted from the kiss with a laugh, “We gonna do this right here, Harry?”

He splayed both of his hands over your bare thighs and squeezed. His eyelids were heavy as he roved his pupils from where he was holding your plush thighs then up to your face, “Wanna?’

You couldn’t help but giggle again and bite your lip as you nodded.

“Mmhmm… Thought you’d want to. Given how wet your panties are right here,” he pressed his thumb over the crotch of your knickers, “Bet you need it more than I do, sweetheart.”

He smeared his thumb around the material of your sodden panties, wetting the pad of his digit before finding your clit and pressing into it. A breathy pant fell from your lips.

“What got you like this, Y/n? What happened, sweetheart?”

“Nothing, just you.”

“Me? Are you sure about that?”

“Always you, Harry.”

He grinned and pushed the fabric of your panties aside as he kept his soft green eyes on you, “What about me does this to you, hmm? You just like me so much that you start dripping?”

You felt your face heat up. Harry often liked to ask you questions that got you a little shy or embarrassed when you had to answer. And even though you should be used to it by now you still got a bit antsy. But fuck if you didn’t love it.

“Yeah. I really just like you so much…”

Harry’s grin never faltered as he kept his gaze pinned to yours and pressed his thumb at the entrance of your pussy, taunting it open until he had pushed it all the way in and you gasped. He began slipping it in and pulling it out, “I know you do. And I love how much you need me,” he continued fucking you with his thumb, “How your body reacts to me. Look at you, Y/n…” he dipped his gaze down to where he was thrusting his thumb into you, “Letting me fuck you with my thumb on the countertop I installed. Making a mess of my palm and I bet the quartz under your ass too. Almost shaking you need it so bad.”

You grunted and rolled your hips up against his thumb, pressing him in further and Harry groaned at your little pathetic wiggle.

Releasing one of your thighs he hooked a finger into the bottom hem of your blouse and pushed upward, “Arms up.”

Raising your arms overhead harry pulled the shirt from your torso and then pulled your bra down, exposing your tits one at a time until you were pouring out over the stretchy material. With his thumb still inside of you, he ducked down and wrapped his lips over your nipple, tongue first.

You moaned and closed your eyes when Harry moved to your other breast, pumping his thumb through your walls until it was all gushy sounding. He stood back, pulling his thumb from you and then bringing it up to his mouth, wrapping his lips around it to lick off every drop of you while his other hand worked at his button to get his pants undone.

There you sat at the edge of the counter with your legs spread and your wet pussy on display. Your panties were stretched to the side and out of the way but you could feel the elastic digging into the back of your thigh and your bum.

Harry pulled himself out of his pants, his gorgeous cock already at full mast and ready to split you in half. He cradled the underside of his shaft as he stepped in toward you and held your thigh in place as he smudged his tip into your labia, spreading your arousal through your crease. The dirty look on his face was heated, like he was about to overtake every part of you.

“Hold onto my back, sweetheart. Gonna fuck you on this well-made countertop now,” he smirked at you cheekily.

You would have laughed but you were already feeling his tip at your pulsing muscle and the anticipation of him stretching you open was making your head spin.

He rocked forward, his thick crown penetrating you and opening you up as he stuffed himself in. It took a few pumps of his cock in and out to burry into the hilt. He gasped when he felt your pussy devour him whole.

Your fingers clung to his back as he began to thrust, long and languid, wet and hot.

“Fucking hell… Got me so weak for you, sweetheart. So desperate to feel you around me all the time. Wanted to fuck you on this counter right in front of your ex-architect so he could see who’s fucking you these days, who’s treating you right…”

You moaned with every deep nudge of his cock through your wet channel. But when he ran his thumb over your clit you croaked out loudly, “Fuck! Yes…”

“See? Look how good I am to you… give you the best don’t I?”

You nodded, “The best, Harry…”

He crashed his lips to yours as he worked your cunt with his cock and his thumb and the languid thrusts turned into frantic jerking motions with his tip nudging into your guts, a hint of pain spreading through your insides at the way he bullied his thick length into you. He rocked his hips against you, the sound of smacking flesh and muffled moans between kisses filtered out through the open window onto your porch. Luckily you had no neighbors anywhere near so no one would know the kinds of things that went on in that old house every evening.

Your thighs were trembling with every swipe of his thumb at your clit and every dip of his cock through your insides.

“Gonna come for me already? Yeah? Fuck, baby…” he was swollen and leaking as he shoved into you. The feel of you wrapped tight around him was always heaven. His favorite.

You whined loudly, the build-up of your orgasm was unable to be stopped as you let him ravage your pussy however he liked. Pat-pat-pat… the sound of wet pussy getting fucked was a typical soundtrack in your house just about every night.

Harry ran a big paw over your tits and squeezed as he pounded into you. The counter under you never budging.

When your pussy began to squeeze and flutter and spasm and your mouth dropped open wide you let out a pitiful cry and dug your fingertips into the taut muscle of his back as you gushed on his big cock.

He only increased his pace as he fucked into you and watched your pretty face twist up in ecstasy. He loved watching you come. It only fed his ego to see such a pretty thing with your face all scrunched and lips curled and wet as you quivered in your orgasm.

He hissed to hold himself back as he felt your pussy slobbering arousal all over his dick. He’d have loved to unload his come right then but he wanted to force another orgasm from you before he allowed himself the satisfaction of coming yet.

When you felt him slow his thrusts you could hear him cooing at you, “Good girl. Fuck baby almost made me come you look so pretty like this.”

You lulled your head up to look at him and he smoothed his lips against yours as he stilled his hips, cock lodged deep inside of your tummy.

“Gonna have you bend over now, okay? Put your feet on this stool if you need it,” he dragged the stool next to his foot toward the counter for you. And with wobbly limbs, you adjusted your seating, turning over so your hips were face down against the counter top and Harry quickly placed his big palms on the round of your ass, pulling you apart so he could see your pussy and anus.

He inhaled sharply as he ran a finger through your folds and you jolted from being so sensitive, “Easy, sweetheart… This is gonna feel good once I get going. You ready?”

You nodded into the crook of your arm and let out a muffled yes as he nudged his cock against you again.

His fingers dug into the meaty soft part of your thighs before he split you open, burying in balls deep on first pass.

You grunted and braced yourself as he began to plunge through your insides, wet strokes of his long cock filling you and then pulling back to his tip on repeat.

“Ooh… shit, sweetheart. So fucking pretty…” he pulled at your ass cheeks and railed into you. You knew he was sweating already, he was giving it his all, using his strong muscles to fuck himself into you and panting breaths every time his balls smushed into your pussy.

You began to feel that fuzzy little prickle spread over your core with every stroke of his cock. The ridges of his bare dick always fit into your crevices and little spots like he was made to snug inside of you and get you off just like that. Your g-spot was never left unloved with the shape of Harry’s cock, his tip always dipping right into it with every pass.

He began to grunt with every glide of his hips, his cock being massaged by your warm walls making his balls tighten and his heart pound the closer he got to his end.

The sight of your pussy sucking him in, lips wrapped around his thick shaft and leaving creamy arousal along his length was just as hot as the way you felt encasing him. But of course, there was the scent and the sound as well. It was lewd. All his senses were burning and singing as he fucked into you.

“Ahh!” You moaned and began to push back against his thrusts, desperate for your next orgasm as it was approaching fast.

Arousal dripped down your inner thighs as he rutted into you, his pace growing sloppy and erratic as he could tell you were about to come.

And the moment you gurgled a wet moan and he could feel you clamping down he gasped and gripped onto your hips, moving you over his cock like you were a toy to fuck, he pulled your ass against his hips and then upward along his cock before slamming you against him again, smearing your pussy juice on the countertop as he did so. You cried out and convulsed around him as Harry finally pumped into you, pulling you back against him until he was stuffed into you as deep as he could reach and released every drop of himself into you.

He groaned as he came into your warm, cozy pussy, pumping strings of his come through your slimy arousal-coated cunt.

Harry made getting off easy. You’d never been one to come so fast or so easy but you were convinced his cock was shaped exactly like you needed. You reached back to take his hand as Harry leaned over your back and kissed your neck, “Pussy fucked and stuffed and countertop sturdy as a rock,” he laughed.

You giggled and arched your back to attempt to move yourself, the position was not the most comfortable after all.

Harry helped you down and held onto you so you wouldn’t fall and you both laughed again when you turned to face him, knowing you had mascara down your cheeks.

He cupped your face and grinned at you, “This is the best housewarming party I’ve ever been to.”

You pointed at the counter he’d just fucked you on and chuckled, “And that is the sturdiest kitchen counter anyone will ever see.”

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[amaranthineghost]

Hi there! Can you do a pov/one shot/ fanfic where Lando is dating Y/N and her love language is biting. She randomly and softly bots Lando but he enjoys it knowing that she is fully comfortable with him to be herself. One day Max,Pietra and some other friends of Lando come to visit them in Monaco and Pietra is annoyed with Max for teasingly refusing to sit next to Y/N, P telling him that he can sit next to Y/n cause she doesn’t bite. Lando starts laughing and says that y/n does bite and moves his shirt to show a small bite mark on his shoulder. Y/N laughs it off but she gets insecure thinking that her love language is bothering Lando so she fights the urge to bite him again. After a few days Lando notices that she doesn’t bite him anymore and starts thinking that he did something to upset her. He asks her why and she eventually tells him and he gets a bit upset. He tells her that he actually likes it because its her way of showing her love and the fact that she is comfortable around him.

Idk some fluff or something

Thank you for at least reading this and I really love your work🧡

|  SINK YOUR TEETH INTO ME, MY DEAR ( lando norris. ) |

ꕥ pairing: lando norris x reader

ꕥ summary: reader's love language is biting, but experiences a feeling of insecurity

ꕥ author note: oh to have a boyfriend to experience this with. fair warning, I refrain from using y/n in imagines unless it's really unavoidable because at this point y/n is a whole person by herself. if something is worded weirded, or 'she' and 'her' get repetitive, that's why. but anyways, I really like this request, its so cute and silly and i hope i did it justice :3

HIS BODY WAS OFTEN ADORNED with bite marks, indentions in his skin where you could see the canines had dipped it lower than the rest. it was a reminder to him of her love.

and he happily carried them everywhere with him, smiling to himself with every glance in the mirror at his bare torso. some faded more than others as they trailed along his arms, upwards to his shoulder and across to his collarbone.

the pads of his fingers slowly rubbed over them, a small smile spreading across his face, something he'd done everyday as the new blemishes came and went.

at first, he'd thought of it as strange, taken off guard by the sudden pinch on his bicep as she'd sink her teeth into his flesh. not so hard to break skin, she wasn't a vampire. but it was enough for him to be reminded of it.

as time went on and the occurrences became more frequent, he'd find himself smiling at it. it was his way of knowing she loved him, that she was comfortable around him, that she was safe with him, she always was and she knew that. at least he hoped she did.

to be loved was to be bitten, was what he knew. she had taught him that.

he had noticed a change though, it was hard not to. the sudden pinces throughout the day, he hadn't noticed weren't there because he had gotten used to them being there. if that made sense. it did to him.

but if he didn't notice the lack of sudden but light pain, followed with a trail of thin salvia leading to the culprits lips, he would notice the lack of marks that riddled his body.

lando had woken up that morning, groggy and his body sore from yesterday's training. the warm of his shared bed beckoned him to stay. to lay with her forever.

he wished he could, but he knew better than to lay around, even if it was with his girlfriend. though he might. was there ever any harm to remain within the comfort and grasp of the warm body that stayed passed out next to him, oblivious to his waking?

he always thought not. his trainer thought otherwise but turned a blind eye for the young couple. though their sickeningly love for the other made him roll his eyes behind their backs. all fun and games. something to laugh about.

his veined hands, warm and adorned with rings, traced across the low of her back. he watched the goosebumps take their place on her skin, her face stirring as she pushed herself further into the bed. he chuckled softly at her reaction, his thumb gliding across her exposed skin, dipping below the hem of the cloth on her body.

he lightly squeezed the flesh under his fingertips, pulling his hand across her back before replacing the covers on her. he slipped out of bed, leaning over momentarily.

his fingers slipped through her hair, getting caught in the knots that tied in the midst of her slumber. using his thumb, he brushed the strands from her face to see half her features smushed against the plush pillow.

another low chuckle escaped his throat, tucking the hair behind her ear as he pulled back and stared at the beauty before him. his eyes dilated the more he looked at her, but he wouldn't know.

his journey through the bathroom to get ready would be halted when he noticed a difference on his bare skin. but it wasn't bare because of the lack of shirt he found himself not to be wearing. what was different?

the pads of his fingers traced his skin for the indentions he cherished deeply, only met with the perfect evenness of his tan skin.

his actions haltered and brows furrowed. instinctively, he leaned closer to the mirror, the veins in his hands becoming more prominent as he pulled his skin. he turned in circles.

no blemishes in sight. not the work of his beloved girlfriend anyways.

he frowned, disappointed by the disruption of his routine. his ritual.

he swore to her many times that he could probably differentiate the marks of her teeth in his flesh to any other bite mark he'd come across. he knew her teeth better than his own. he swore he did.

he knew the indentions that littered his skin, but they weren't here. he wanted them to be so bad. why the change?

his heart sunk in his chest. he sighed. how could he not notice?

his eyes met his own gaze in the mirror, his fingers still tracing his bare collarbone and down his shoulder. he pursed his lips, eating away at the pink flesh until it irritated.

his hands fell down to the sink, supporting his body weight as he leaned on them as he pondered.

he surely noticed how faded they looked. how the red inflammation, that manifested on his skin, just didn't. but the change never processed in his brain.

he racked through the events of the past couple of days. nothing stood out.

they'd mostly stayed home together, other than the times lando went out for training. but it surely wasn't that, as she had no problem with it in the past. she understood what he did and the requirements of it that he had to meet.

lando groaned in realization. days earlier, lando and his girlfriend were out on the water with a few of their friends, drivers and their girlfriends.

it was a beautiful day, he had remembered because of the way the sun reflected off her skin, how her pupils shrank at the blinding light, but revealed the capsulating colors behind them.

he sat on the cushioned seats of the yacht, next to her with his warm hand on her inner thigh, a drink in the other. the rest of the group littered around the deck with various drinks in hand as they chatted.

most of them were just hanging out in their swimsuits as none of them had yet decided to take the plunge into the crystal waters.

they had sat next to each other for a while, lando leaning closer to hear her voice, the music was loud. her lips grazed his ear a few times, he remembered. the gloss on her lips left on his skin.

she remembered the scratch of his cheek as he'd forgotten to shave earlier whenever he'd lean into whisper in her ear. his lips ghostly hovered her neck, grazing her skin softly. despite the warm sun, goosebumps took their place down her neck.

he always chuckled at the rising bumps on her skin whenever he did something she liked. it always gave him a surge of confidence to know the effect he had against her.

"get a room!" the brit called out, laughing as he walked over with a drink in hand. his girlfriend followed behind, shaking her head at his words, but a smile evident on her face.

max fewtrell was one of lando's long time friends. their girlfriends also happened to be friends, long before the two guys came into their lives.

"mind if we sit?" pietra asked, not waiting for an answer as she took a place on the leather couch. leaving a space between the two girls so max could sit too.

she looked up to see max still standing, she rolled her eyes and patted the spot next to her, "there's enough room for all of us, why won't you sit?"

max shrugged his shoulder, "I don't know, mate, she might bite me if I try sitting down!" he exclaimed jokingly, inciting a laugh between the group.

she felt her body heat up uncomfortably, laughing along despite her discomfort.

pietra tugged on his sleeve, "she doesn't bite, you're being dramatic." her attempts were futile.

lando laughed and shook his head, "I don't know, mate, you might want to be careful." his hand left her thigh as he pulled up his sleeve to his shoulder, as he hadn't taken off his shirt just yet.

she felt her face flush and reddened, but hid it by laughing with the group, pushing her head into the crevice of his neck momentarily. his hand found her back again.

she felt the cushion next to her dip, followed by a hand squeezing her knee. she turned her head. pietra gave her a sympathetic look when she'd realized the girl's reaction.

pietra leaned close to her ear, like what lando and her were doing earlier. she whispered a few words to her before pulling away and taking a sip of her drink, wrapping her arm around her shoulder. she felt herself smile and relaxed in her seat.

but on the inside, she was eating herself up, overthinking to exhaustion. her stomach felt sick, was her habit a bother to him?

she found herself hiding in the bathroom throughout the rest of the hangout, claiming seasickness but denying medicine for it.

each time she find hersef back in the bathroom with anxious nausea and the door locked, lando would be on the other side. he'd knock on her door, talking her through it, asking her if he could get her anything, telling her he'd wait for her to come out again.

days past and she refrained from sinking her teeth into the perfect skin of his bicep, the valley of his collarbone, or the broadness before the drop of his shoulder.

each time she found herself with the urge to show the love she had through her teeth, she stopped herself.

it killed lando to think about how he could've made her feel. but he needed her to come to him, he didn't want to pry information out of her.

he could ask but he couldn't make her tell.

the door to the bathroom creaked open, lando's head snapping towards the noise, noticing the tired face eyeing him through the slit in the door.

he pushed himself from the counter, his heart beating slightly faster as he sighed. she opened the door more and dragged her feet against the tiled floor. he noticed the way her eyes squinted against the light.

she stopped when she collided against him. her cheek pushed against his chest as she leaned her weight against him.

he pulled her closer when he placed a hand on her head, another one around the low of her back. his lips were against her hair and he inhaled slowly. the faded tropical scent of her shampoo lingered in her hair.

in his head, he debated asking her. not only was she still tired, but he didn't want to push her farther, in case he had done something.

his heart beat heavily in his chest, muttering against her scalp, "what's going on, darling?" he caressed the strands of her hair, "hm?"

her heart skipped a beat, she thought he hadn't noticed, or that he didn't say anything because he had secretly hoped for this to happen.

she decided to play dumb, speaking softly against his bare skin, "what do you mean?" her voice muffled.

"come on, I know your biting habits. what's wrong?" he spoke patiently to her as he cradled her tired body in his arms, swaying softly as they stood admist the cold bathroom air.

her eyes fluttered shut as she mumbled, "I thought it annoyed you."

his head shook against hers, "why do you think that, love?" he held his breath for the answer, but in his heart, he knew what she was going to say.

he was met with silence for a long time, he knew she was thinking it over in her head. she finally spoke, "remember the yacht trip a few days ago?"

he exhaled deeply, his eyes clenching shut as he pursed his lips, "i'm an idiot," he muttered, pulling away partially.

" 's okay," she shrugged, looking up at him with big eyes.

he swore in his mind, if it weren't for the circumstances, he would've folded. he slowly blinked, his tongue gliding along his lower lip.

"it's not, darling. even if max and i were just messing around," he breathed in and out slowly, his hand caressing her pillow-marked face, "i'm sorry you felt that way, okay? you know, i love when you do it," he reassured, and he saw her eyes dilate when he did.

"really? but why?" she questioned him, scanning his face, eyes, body language for any hint of deceit. she found none.

"it tells me you're comfortable, baby, and that's all I want for you."

she listened for his tone. it was sincere.

and they stayed like that for a while. in each other's embrace, they knew all was well again as they talked through it some more.

"ow."