#i would like to fall into an endless pit please

[nanami-is-nanamean]

In the middle of writing the worst day of hs!gojos life and like-- ive been thinking abt this hc for actual years so i might as well drop it here while im figuring out how to Put Words Onto Page

I imagine that pressing a hand against Gojo’s Infinity would give you a sense of extreme vertigo. Kind of like Kenjakus giant ass catfish curse that made Yuji think he was falling, but somehow both infinitely (heh) worse and better.

Better because hey, at least the feeling is isolated to the limbs that are against Infinity, and Worse because holy shit the feeling is isolated to the limbs that are against Infinity.

Because like... think abt it tho...

Infinity works via achilles paradox-- "any moving object must reach halfway on a course before it reaches the end". Infinity makes that paradox real by giving an infinite amount of halfways between the object and the end. The end being himself.

That would mean then, that whatever object touches Infinity and gets blocked by it, is in a constant state of forward motion, held only in place by the endless halfways it must go thru to reach Gojo. Honestly, as i think abt it more while writing this post, it feels to me like Infinity is kind of like a black hole or bottomless pit. It keeps whatever object moving towards the center (black hole) but it never gets any closer to the point that its basically still (bottomless pit)

Imagine then, what it would feel like if you were the "object" going up against Gojo’s Infinity. Like, not even punching him. Just giving him like, a high five or leaning on him or something of that nature.

You go to pat Gojo’s shoulder to give him some physical affection but as your hand descends to meet the dark fabric of his uniform, it. Keeps. Going. Down. But, you're looking at your hand. Its perfectly still on Gojo’s shoulder. But your hand, it still feels like its moving. And if you're sensitive to motion, this is the part where your head starts to spin/get light-headed, this is the part where your knees get weak. You feel that its still going, why is it still going, its frozen still, but your hand. Keeps. Going. You want to topple over, but you're on still and steady ground and youre properly supported on your feet, but your hand keeps telling you that its still going down down dOWN DOWN DOWN--

And then gojo turns off his Infinity and snaps you out of ur mini panic attack. Oopsies!

[softestqueeen]

incredibly adorable

request: and if it’s not a bother I’d like to see prompt 5. “Please, look at me. Breathe, god please, breathe” with JJ saying the line after reader gets severely injured during a case. A happy little fluffy ending where reader is doped up on meds in the hospital and starts telling JJ that’s she’s really pretty and being an absolute flirt a/n: hey anon, thank you sm for requesting this! i've decided to write both fics, you can find the other request here! i hope you like it! enjoy <3 warnings: angsty, reader gets shot, fluff, reader is high on pain meds pairing: jennifer "jj" jareau x reader I 1222 words special prompts I special masterlist

This should have been just a regular take down. It was a bit risky, the unsub had barricaded himself into an old warehouse witha currently missing woman, but nothing the BAU hasn't done before.

Well, it should have been.

It all went smooth, you and Derek went in through the back, Hotch and JJ thrugh the front and the rest of the team either covered or went to a side entrance.

The moment you stepped into that warehouse you had a weird feeling. It seemed to be not just completely empty, but also completely clean. The walls were white, the floors were smooth and there wasn't any trash laying around like you'd expect it in an empty warehouse.

You and Derek started to check out every room, never splitting up in the never ending maze of the warehouse. Thankfully, it didn't have too many stories, the three floors being managable to cover for you and your team.

The further you went in, the more you felt that weird pit in your stomach. The two of you went up the stairs, telling the others over your ear piece that your part of the first floor had been clear.

Where the first floor was an endless maze of rooms and corridors, the second floor was completely empty.

No walls, no rooms, no corridors, only a chair with the unsub and his next victim tied to it.

Derek immediately demanded the unsub to drop his weapon, the gun that he was holding against the victim visibly glistening in the cold light from the lamp obove them.

The unsub didn't seem to back down though, the evil sparkle in his eye now falling onto you.

The way his eyes raked over your body, halting at the curve of your hip and the swell of your breasts made the hairs on your body stand up uncomfortably.

Derek and you took another step towards the two, the unsub pressing the gun harder into her temple.

It all happened in a flash, suddenly the gun wasn't pointed at the victim anymore but at you.

The sound of the shot still rang in your ears when you fell down to the floor. There was immediately another shot, probably Derek shooting the unsub, though you couldn't pin-point anything at the moment.

You could hear shouting around you, though your mind was too hazy to think clear. After a moment you could feel a hand on your shoulder slightly shaking you, a hand on your cheek mirroring the movement shortly after.

Even though you could hear what the person was saying to you, it all felt like it was so far away. In a moment of clarity, your eyes opened and you saw your girlfriend, Jennifer Jareau, leaning over you, pressing against your shoulder.

When JJ and Hotch entered the room and she saw you getting shot, she thought that she died in that moment. Her heart dropped, her mouth went dry and she could feel her knees buckle.

She caught herself though, immediately running to you once Derek had taken down the unsub. If it had taken a moment longer it would have been her who shot that son of a bitch.

Once she reached you, all she saw was blood. It wsa everywhere, in your hair, on your face and covering your vest and clothes. She leaned down and pressed her hands over the wound on your shoulder. Tears were in your eyes when she tried to shake you awake.

She wouldn't know what to do if you died now, her whole world now in your hands.

Suddenly your eyes open, just a little bit, and a groan left your lips.

JJ called your name, trying to get your attention.

"Please look at me. Breathe, god please, breathe."

Your head rolled to the side and finally JJ could hear the paramedics arriving at the scene. Derek had to gently take her by the shoulder, pulling her away from you, so the paramedics could get to you.

The blonde didn't leave you ot of her sight for even one second, insisting on riding in the ambulance with you.

She tried to get information out of the emt's, but they didn't know if you would make it either.

They wheeled you into the operation room and JJ could do nothing but wait if you would ever wake up again.

~~~~

The first thing you notic after waking up, was that you were, in fact, not dead. The second thing was your girlfriend - who was currently sporting a very worried expression - looking at her phone, sitting by your bedside. A frown was evident on her face, her eyebrows drawn together and her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

You had to admit that she looked incredibly adorable. Oh? Did you say that out loud?

Suddenly her attention went to you, the worried expression on her face not faltering for a second.

"Baby, are you alright? Can you hear me?" The dazed expression and loopsided smile on your face did nothing to calm JJ's nerves. She looked at you expectedly, waiting for an answer.

"You look so pretty right now, JJ," was all you said before continuing to smile at her again.

"Well, thank you. But I wanted to know if you are in any pain or need anything." JJ still tried to get at least some kind of real answer out of you, but you were still pretty out of it. It made sense after what happened that they gave you some pretty intense pain killers. If she was being honest with herself, JJ was just releived that you didn't seem to be in too much pain at the moment.

The blonde leaned forward, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Your gaze followed the movement, tears gathering in your eyes with all the love you were feeling for your girlfriend at that simple gesture.

Seeing the tears in your eyes, JJ panicked. "Oh no, why are you crying? Are you hurting? Do you want me to call a nurse?" JJ was rattling off questions while the tears slowly started to make their way down your cheeks. Her hands immediately went to cup them, her thumbs gently wiping away your tears.

"Baby, please talk to me. What's wrong?" JJ was close to calling the nurse when she heard your quiet voice. Almost sheepishly you admit.

"I just love you so much JJ. Thank you for taking care of me and just... being there for me i guess. I really appreciate that."

At that JJ almost broke out in tears herself. Just 12 hours before you were shot, almost dying and now you were so out of it that the only thing on your mind was babbling about how much you loved her and how thankful you were for her.

"I love you too, baby. How about you get some more sleep, huh?" Your girlfriend suggested, slowly stroking your hair in an effort to get you to sleep.

"M'kay, but only if you lay down with me." You were already scooting over and holding up the blanket so she could slide in next to you, all while making the biggest puppy dog eyes at her.

She couldn't help but comply, having grown way too soft since you first started dating.

"Of course baby, anything."

the requests for this event are OPEN! here are the prompts!

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated! i’d like to write more with criminal minds characters, so if you have any ideas/requests lmk!!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueeen

requests open!

taglist: @silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@bigbananaa

[eraenaa]

Please Please Please (Modern AU)

Inspired by the song Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter

Politician Aemond Targaryen x Lannister Reader Tag List

Synopsis: Heartbreak is one thing; my ego’s another. I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker.

Warnings: Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Choking, Fingering, ¿Semi-Public Relations?, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 1,969

A/N: Quick little fic bc the music gods blessed us with new pop anthems <3

The lion’s pride. As a Lannister, you and the whole of your family had a great deal of it. Great lengths are made to maintain it, especially when you are pitted in the arena of the public eye. Every decision you made was calculated, and every action has a reaction that you meticulously premeditated. Nothing less than perfect and respectable could be accepted. Sensibilities must always be in check, but after meeting him, it seemed to fall out of your head. 

Aemond Targaryen. An up-and-coming figure in the scene of politics. A second son of the infamous family of the Targaryens. A waving red flag you had ignored, for you were too distracted by every other aspect of him. 

You remember the day you met him fondly. You were forced to attend a gala. Your family needed to push a figure of unity for the upcoming election; in consequence, you had to participate in endless events pitting you in the eye of the public. You were standing next to your father as he introduced you to other influential members of his party when, from the side of your eye, you caught a figure walking into the event hall, dressed in all black, striding and making his way through the crowds effortlessly. You were stood a few leagues away from him, but you already felt this aura of confidence that strode dangerously close to arrogance. You barely caught a clear glimpse of him, but there was this domineering and authoritarian presence in him that was needed in leaders that had solidified your attraction. 

Aemond has had his eye on you for quite some time now. The golden girl, they liked to call you—the celebrated daughter of House Lannister, the girl who was perfect on paper. Everything you had done in your life had only added to the pride and good standing of your family, and Aemond could not help but be intrigued. He strode into the room, always catching everyone’s attention, but yours was the only one he sought for. When he finally caught your eyes from across the room, he inwardly smirked to himself and strode to where you stood with your father. “Ah, Aemond,” Your father greeted the other member of his party with civility. “Sir Lannister,” You hear him greet, and you clenched your jaw as you hear the deep, velvety tone of his voice. “This is my daughter; I don’t believe you two have been introduced yet,” Your father said, and you turned your full attention to him. Aemond led out his hand for you to shake, and he felt a chill run down his spine as your hands clasped around each other. 

“Nice to meet you,” You said with a small smile. The same smile was reserved for when you met your father’s other colleagues. You hear him hum and watch as he gives a nod, reserved and quiet, an exact depiction of what you read of him. You stood there quietly for a few moments as they talked of business, trying to ignore the eye that had been entranced by you. When there was a pause in their conversation, you excused yourself and headed towards the bar on the side of the room to refresh your drink, a figure closely following behind you. 

Things were quick to escalate from there from only having to be formally introduced to Aemond mere moments ago to him and you engaging in juvenile activities in a nearby coat closet. There was a lapse in your judgment as you engaged in such activities. Letting your lips dance with your father’s colleague, letting his solid and cold hands roam your body, not at all cautious that with just one swing of the door, you two would succumb to scandal. 

“Aemond,” You called as you gripped his long, silvery locks. His lips were too preoccupied with peppering kisses on your neck and collarbone to respond. You feel his hand inch higher towards your bosom, placing it flat as he palmed your tit. “Who knew their golden girl could be so… lewd?” Amend hummed, and you rolled your eyes as you hated that nickname. “You’ve only just met me, but you had no hesitation as I led you here,” He mused and nipped your skin, not at all wary that it would leave a mark. “Are you complaining?” You asked breathlessly, staring at his sapphire-colored eye. You feel your core tighten as a devilish smirk rose to his lips. “No,” he replied and kissed your lips once more. 

It did not take long after that encounter before you two were noted to be entirely fond of one another. 

There were great reservations. Your older brother taking the lead to voice it on behalf of your family. “Wh—why him? You are aware of his… demeanor?” You pursed your lips. “I am, and he is not as rash and cold as you think,” You defended. “But why did you have to choose someone from father’s party— it is a complete conflict of interest.” You rolled your eyes, “How is it a conflict of interest? For it to be a conflict of interest, it has to be with someone from the opposing party, does it not?” You countered. Your brother shook his head disapprovingly, “He is from the opposing party. Father is not completely sold on his allegiance. He still thinks your little boyfriend’s decision to join our side is a shallow rebellion against his family’s— nothing but a ploy!” Your brother almost screamed, and you stayed quiet as your calculating and cautious self had overlooked the possibility.

That thought bothered you tremendously, and it was noticeable. Aemond frowned as he placed kisses on the valley of your breast, and his hand was threading closer to your cunt, but no reaction came from you. “Are you well?” He asked as he pulled away, placing a small gap between your bodies. Your back was rested on the headboard of his bed, your mind was far off, and you could not even enjoy his pleasurable actions. You stared into his eye and licked your lips. “What’s your plan?” You suddenly asked, and you watched as his face folded in confusion. “What do you mean?” He asked and sat straight before you, his cold hand placed on your warm thigh. 

“Why did you suddenly join my father’s party? For decades, our families have been known for their opposing views… why then did you suddenly join?” You asked and watched as his lips thinned. “If you wanted political and career advancements, it would make more sense if you stayed in your family’s party. Why then do you join ours when you would have to start all over again?” You asked in doubt, fearing that it was indeed all a ploy and the relations between you were just another part of it. That in the end, whatever you do will not only end in heartbreak but worse, your reputation will be tarnished. Aemond was silent, and that put further skepticism in you. Your mind conjures up future scenes where the public will come to know that your relationship was filled with deceit, his way to slither into your father’s political party— subjecting you and your family to embarrassment as you had been seduced by him and his lies. 

“It’s true that if I had stayed with my family’s party, my career would have advanced greatly. But it is a dead end.” You frowned at his words, trying not to be distracted by the day his hand would caress your skin. “It is a lost cost. I had never believed and aligned myself with their political beliefs and values; having to run and represent things I don’t believe in is, for me, practically career suicide,” You pursed your lips and assessed his eye, trying to find sincerity in him. People often say that he was a good actor, keeping his dealings and reactions to himself so no one could use them against him. 

Aemond could not help but smirk as you stared him down, his hand on your thigh inching higher as you did your calculations. “Why? Did you think I was using you?” He asked quietly. His eye darkened when you bit your lip and slowly nodded, a bit wounded that you would think as such. However, he could not honestly blame you because if he were in your position, he would also be skeptical about himself. You parted your lips to speak, but words died on your tongue as you felt Aemond cup your cunt. 

“They always said you were a fast learner… so best to engrave this in your pretty little head,” Aemond hummed as his lips threaded closer to yours, his fingers gliding against your folds, a whimper escaping your lips. “I’m not with you for political advancements… I’m with you simply because I want you, you alone.” He swore and intertwined your lips, swallowing your moan as he slipped his finger inside. Aemond smirked as you parted your lips, needing air as he curled the digit, feeling your cunt clench around him tightly. 

You clung to Aemond’s neck as he dipped down and captured the taut bud of your tit into his mouth, his teeth nibbling your skin, making you whimper. Aemond added another finger as he felt your grind your cunt against his hand in want of more; his thumb lay flat on your nubbin and drew circles, your moans echoing through the room. “More… Aemond— please, please, please, I want more,” You moaned. His fingers were pleasurable, but your body needed the whole of him. You hear him hum and watch him through glazed eyes as he removes his fingers, bringing them to his lips as he cleans your essence. “You want more?” He asked, and you nodded fervently, bordering on desperation. “Then who am I to deny?” He smirked as he switched your positions, him resting his back on the headboard and you straddling his waist. 

Your head tilted back, and your jaw went slack as his cock slipped inside you, sheathing itself perfectly in your cunt, the tip of it hitting the spongey spot that made you lost and unaware of your surrounding. The place that made all sensibilities fly out of the window and make your judgment muddled. “So pretty…” Aemond praised breathlessly, watching as you bounced his cock. Your tits heaving against him, your lips parted as you spewed out your moans. Aemond placed his hands on your hips and guided you, his thrust deep and harsh, just as you liked it. 

Aemond felt you take hold of one of his hands, guiding it toward your throat, and he groaned out in pleasure as you urged him to choke you. Your cunt clenching painfully and pleasurably around his length as he did your request. You moaned as you felt the cool metal of his ring imprint itself on your throat. You were close, and your desperate movements hinted that to Aemond. “Is my pretty girl going to come?” Aemond asked through gritted teeth, his own release coming quickly as well. “Aemond… god, Aemond!” You called as you came undone, your body hunching over his, and he sought out your lips, kissing them as he spilled himself deep inside your cunt. 

You breathed heavily, your mind trying to regain focus, but it was difficult as Aemond drew soothing circles on your skin as you came down from your high. “Do me a favor?” You asked breathlessly, Aemond’s cock still deep inside you and the flaccid length growing stiffer by the moment. “Anything,” He answered and tried to capture your lips, but you swiftly backed away. “Don’t fucking embarrass me,” You said in seriousness, and Aemond smirked at your words. “Never.” He swore and sealed his oath with a kiss.

Tag List

[darkdemeter]

BY THEIR LEASH

⚤ Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! Female Reader Mafia stuff — mention of death — alcohol consumption (like a lot) — 18+ SMUT, MINORS DNI — Porn with plot? — lesbian sex — threesome — may be some grammar errors and such — slight bondage — little bit of muscle/stomach riding if you squint your eyes, turn your head that way... — I think that's it? ✎ 4.3k

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

  An expensive investment. A broad term to use for a werewolf broken in by the system at a young age. But it’s true. 

  Alexander Pierce, the finance manager and ringleader as a whole, did all he could to break you in, and to say he did is an understatement. He exceeded the limits you once believed you had and once you were ready, he put you out in the field to garner your reputation. 

You had no limits. Ruthless in your endeavour to complete whatever task was required of you, prepared to do whatever it took, your peers could only look at you with both fear and admiration. 

When all was said and done, you were given your collar, then sold through the underground hub for criminals: the black market. 

  That’s when you learnt in the span of the few minutes that the auction lasted for, that you were either a trophy to those of the higher class of crime, or a very wanted source of security and war. From black funding operators that had their hand in the military’s pit on the hunt for a war hound, to the gangster overlords who controlled territories in the differing states and countries, requiring some form of high end security, there was a very rapid increase in the price they were each willing to pay. 

  At a total of twenty-five million, your collar and services were sold to Mr. Tony Stark. From the sleek fit of a light grey, three piece suit and bright pink tie, Stark had a brighter outlook on the window of his underhand activities. He was the type that lounged back in the severity of his criminal dealings.

Unlike his fellow company who each wore darker palette suits of either navy blue or jet black. He stood out for sure as his auburn tinted glasses did little to hide the one question on his mind: Was his money well spent?

  Well, to say at the very least, you wouldn’t be here tonight if you weren’t worth every single cent he spent on you three years ago. 

  Thinking about the memory now, this is a different tone entirely. Dark and neon is how you remember the black market scene, stalls and cube stores with an assortment of supplies anyone in the business would need, whether that be for the amateurs - which were the usual target customers - or the smaller businesses which belonged to small cluster gangs. 

  The big time runners had designated storehouses to spare where they obtained their supplies, and ran other dealings and hand-offs in and out of private rooms in the clubs. 

  Here, the scene is warm, lavish and made for those who seek the comfort in living in marble halls and pristine white pillars, short cut grass and elaborate parties such as this one. 

“Shit, this party is awfully chipper for someone who died last week,” you huff, eyes scanning the crowd from the smooth, darkly polished bar, which you incidentally found very comfortable to lean back on when told for the hundredth time, “Just sit tight, just a little bit longer.” 

  You didn’t have the time nor patience to sit around getting older by the damn minute. Thankfully, Tony put his card behind the bar so that meant an endless river of drinks. Because you needed the alcohol. A lot. 

  Not a moment too late is your glass refilled with your refreshment. And not too soon after is it halfway downed.

  “Please, Y/N,” sighs Steve from your right side, arms folded over his chest, navy blue suit straining just a bit too tightly against his body, “have some respect for the Maximoff family. They lost their only male heir to a deal gone wrong. They need our support.”

Your shoulders rise with a particularly deep inhale before falling lax, you swirl the sliver of whiskey left in your glass and with a jerk of your wrist you finish it. Ice rattles in your glass as you shimmy it, indicating you need another refill and pronto. 

  “People live, people die. You cross someone and you get shot in the back. It happens.” 

  “He was gunned down in the streets with a fucking machine gun, Y/N. You consider that a mere shot in the back?”

  You shrug in response to Sam’s question with a pout of your bottom lip. “Pietro thought he was the shit. That’s what got him killed by Rumlow.” 

  Sam runs a hand over his face, now distressed by the lack of sincerity you show for the grieving family. “For fuck sake…”

  In the three years of your loyal work to the Stark family and those of his brotherhood - his allies - your colours shone through immensely to reveal a shining personality. Excluding the fact you’d become something of a playful rogue with the women. 

  You simply chalk it up to your animal magnetism. Something that leaves them wanting more whenever in the presence of your company.

  In fact, that was how Tony came to own unclaimed establishments and clubs in the boroughs, ones he wasn’t able to get his hands on before, but after he had you as a playable card in his hand, you provided club goers the relief of being harassed and drinks being spiked. Territorial take over schemes from rival gangs were second guessed when they saw you watching over the joint.

  The after hour visits for your libido were just the perks. But you left a lot of lustful and broken little hearts in the wake of your work. 

  For a werewolf, you were always assumed to be a means of security, and that much was true. Didn’t mean it excluded you from taking on other odd jobs for the families from time to time. Debt collection, assassinations, tailing and blackmail ops, the list is endless. 

  When Steve casts a hardened stare your way, you mockingly raise your hands up in surrender. 

  “Alright, I’ll offer my condolences to the heiress, but I ain’t weeping at her feet for her brother who got himself into that mess because he thought he was too big for his own shoes.”

  “Just behave yourself, alright? The last thing we need is the entirety of Europe at war with us.” You roll your eyes and salute the captain. “Yessir.”

  You bring the glass rim to your lips and draw a small gulpful of your renewed liquor, the fiery taste rolls over your tongue, you savour it to keep your sanity intact lest you go insane from the waiting. Where was the heiress? 

  “Well, well, I thought I wouldn’t see any of you again. Especially you.” Your head, as well as those of your group, direct their gaze to the new voice. The corners of your lips twitch up and you flash her a wolfish grin, chin tilting up slightly in your relaxed position against the bar. You looked like a cat happily laying in the sun. 

  “Miss Romanoff,” each of the men greeted with a nod of their heads. You, however, pat your thigh as an invitation for her to sit. “I had work to do the next morning.”

  “Mm, that’s what you tell the other girls, I’m sure.” You clap a hand to your chest with a wince. “You wound me, sweetheart. If I had the chance, I would have stayed.” 

  She hums but it’s obvious she doesn’t believe you by the rise in her brow. 

  Natasha Romamoff is a hard fish to catch. One of the more established families that control practically the entirety of Europe, alongside the Maximoff family, the two were partners and crafting an empire strong enough to stand on their own without any dire need for support. 

  Yes, her family had prior dealings with the brotherhood. The Starks, Wilsons, Barnes and Rogers and more, whether to collaborate on a bigger criminal project to the smaller portioned deals. Smuggled goods and weapons, blackmail intel deliverance, international bribery to keep the feds off your backs.

  But she never committed to joining forces. 

  You suppose it’s a good power move on her part. She doesn’t have to abide by any of the family creeds, in the end, you’re all loose ends that may potentially be severed if need be. She had the ball in her court and the mysterious Maximoff heiress. 

  Even your animal magnetism wasn’t enough to charm her into joining forces with Stark and his powerhouse of families, but they were surely enough to charm her into a wild one night stand. 

But as you told her. You had work to do. And now she appears to spurn you with her eyes and cruel words, but still entertains your flirtatious advances and indulges the empty space of your thigh.

  For a well respected mob boss such as herself, she definitely liked to play it risky; dressing included. 

  Last you saw her, she was dressed in a more professional manner. But here at this funeral party, whatever the fuck it was, she chose to wear a black, spaghetti strap cocktail dress that’s short enough to be skimming the mid of her thigh. The slit riding the dress up higher is just plain dangerous. 

  She’s facing you, back arched and arse resting on the cliff of your knee. Your clawed hand supports her at the small of her back. Her perfume is strong and complimenting, a sweet bouquet of lavender which rolls over the exposed tops of her breasts from her even more exposed neck. Her plump, red lips move in a way that’s hypnotic. “So I hear you’re going to be a bargaining chip for Wanda Maximoff.”

  “Where’d you hear that?” you scoff with a flick of your chin. 

  “I have spies who whisper to me,” she answers with a swift quirk of her brow. 

  Of course she overheard the news. She then chuckles softly, and all eyes watch her with a level of suspicion. “She won’t take any deal you offer her. She’s determined to steer clear of your little gang wars over in the states.”

  “Rumlow killed her brother and he has bases around our territories. Wouldn’t she appreciate the extra hands in catching the rat?” Bucky poses the question with a dark brow angled high and clenched jaw, the muscles in his cheeks flex harder when Natasha offers no affirmative response; a mark to hopefully land you in the door and good graces with the heiress. 

  “You really think she wants a guard dog?” 

  “Hey,” you growl with a wrinkle of your nose, fangs on the precipice of baring at her. How she used the term in a condescending manner made the fur beneath your skin bristle. Sam claps a hand to your shoulder, somehow able to sense the seething anger within you. 

  “We just want to help. Offer support for her loss and bring Rumlow down.”

  “No. You want a foothold in Europe. And I’m sorry but…” She looks you up and down, drinking in the sight of you and you know she can see you without your clothes on. “You’re not going to cut it, babe.”

  She turns her body to make her getaway but you don’t let her slip away just like that. She gasps and looks to you with a furrowed glare when your arm circles her waist and tugs her back until she’s flush against you, the men in your company watch with trepidation of your next course of action.

  “I will cut it because whether she wants to admit it or not, she needs us.”

  Natasha’s eyes, true to her fashion, darken with a challenge. “You’re wasting your time. She’ll get Rumlow herself.”

  “And if Rumlow plans to get her first?” For a moment you see the doubt cross her face. “That’s where she needs me.”

  “Tony Stark.” Each of the men turn to the voice behind them and their once cool and collected selves turn rigid, nervous under the power one woman can hold so absolute, her green eyes scan each of their faces before they land on you. 

  You finally look and meet her stare, still holding Natasha against you even as she tries to push away from you. 

  “Unhand her,” the woman commands with an accented tongue. 

  At first, you wanted nothing more than to play this out a little, see what makes this woman tick. But both Tony and Steve look at you, silent in their order, you sigh heavily and release Natasha. Once you do, she wastes no time in joining Wanda’s side with a bow of her head. 

  “I hear that you wished to have an audience with me.” 

  Wanda is the sole survivor of this ordeal. Her parents were assassinated two years ago and now her brother was killed. This is the stressed matter at hand, her empire could crumble to the ground, all that hard work put into the grave because she’s being so fucking stubborn with this deal.

  “I will not sign my family, nor any of my shares, to Stark Industries. Enough have I done to keep you out of the hands of law enforcement. I will handle Rumlow myself.”

  This isn’t how any of you hoped this would go. The grief has made her stronger than before. It wasn’t exactly you were waiting for the chance for her to have a weak spot and try your luck, but you all had thought she might even be at least a little desperate for extra help. 

  Natasha’s face says it all: I told you so. You can only roll your eyes and resume with what you’re doing. Refilling your empty glass with more liquor. You’ve yet to scratch the surface of being tipsy. 

  “Miss Maximoff, we only wish to help you. All we ask in return is that you grant us some territory to work with for our trade deals as payment, for support lent to you to catch Rumlow.” Steve is calm in his approach to reason with her, but if anything, her raised hand indicates her refusal, unswayed by the honey of his words. Your tongue rolls the rounds of your mouth, each time measured by your impatience as you slowly circle around the dealings table, unable to find yourself comfortable against the stiffened wood of your seat. 

  “You do realise that you’re asking for more than your so-called ‘support’ is actually worth.” You blink several times, the blow of it a downright attack on their egos. 

  “No, I want something more.”

  “And I want alcohol to affect me so I can sleep well at night,” you mutter to the glassy rim against your bottom lip. Wanda’s eyes flicker to you, bearing down a sinister glare. “Excuse me?”

  “And we were just about to suggest that very thing!” Tony interjects with a grin, eager to utilise his card, his Ace Wolf as he liked to call you. He gestures to where you stand now at the table’s other end.

  She directs her eyes to look you up and down slowly, gaze polished with keen observation. She hums thoughtfully before she looks to Natasha. 

  “E atât de bună?”

  The red haired chuckles and sitting back in her chair, chest heaving with a breathy sigh, she nods. 

  “Exceptional de bun. Cu o limbă ca asta…”

  Bucky shifts in his seat, a hollow whistle on his lips over the exchange of heated words, and you flash a grin at both women. The words of foreign tongue, however, pass over the heads of the other men, their eyes looking to either you or Bucky only to be answered with a shrug, but knowing that look in your eyes, they can take a good guess as to what’s being discussed. 

  With another passing frame of time, both women pull away from their engrossed conversation. “I’ve been made aware that you intend to bargain your wolf to me,” she says, once again letting her sight fall on you. 

  “And if that is the case, and what I have been told…” She trails off momentarily, finding to correct herself in the midst of something you can smell very clearly on her - or rather between her legs. “Then I’ll accept.”

  Each man present in the room is given pause to revel in the stun before them. Wanda Maximoff, the heiress of Europe’s biggest family, accepts their deal. All at the price of you. 

“You’ll have your answer by tomorrow, Mr Stark,” Wanda says, standing from her chair, she beckons you to follow with a kink of her fingers. One by one and following in unison, their eyes turn to you as you shuffle back on your heel with shrug your shoulders and fanged grin.

  “Animal magnetism, boys.”

  Wanda’s heels bound a steady beat as she wanders over to the foot of her bed, making an elegant show of swaying her hips and drawing your attention to her form. From behind, Natasha slips the dark suit jacket from your shoulders. Tosing it aside, her hands play the form of an enchanting guide, ushering you forward while tracing the hidden curves of your muscles. 

  “As per courtesy, Miss Maximoff wants the first claim.” 

  You huff in reply, “And you?”

  Natasha hums softly and plucks your belt loose from your trousers. “I have you two, I won’t go unsatisfied tonight.”

  Tilting your head to view Wanda who stands idle, fingers playing with the lining of her dress above her breasts, you stalk towards her, her back arching under your touch with a breathless whimper, you trail the zip of her gown down slowly. Falling around her ankles as a fabricated halo, she turns suddenly and your lips collide together in hunger.

  She sinks down to the bed, laying back until her hair fans around her, spreading her legs apart. That feverish hunger boils within your blood, running it hold and thick, the fur beneath your skin bristled in your excitement as you take care to roll the sleeves of your skirt to your elbows. To your knees, you’re brought to the sight of her soaked underwear, the dark patch evidently giving away just how badly she required you between her quivering thighs. Natasha’s hands rake through the length of your hair and scratches at your scalp, earning a low purr of pleasure to rumble in your chest. 

You lean forward and all it takes is a single inhale and you’re let loose of your chain of control, claws shearing the fabric that dares to confine her awaiting cunt any longer. She gasps upon contact, your lips smothering her moistened, slick lips and she gives a deep-noted moan, arching her hips up, your hands wrap around her thighs to drag her to you more. 

 She tastes like the fine wines of heaven, a forbidden savour on the tongue that which you greedily lap, your eyes close as you succumb to the wolf’s hunger, tongue lapping heavily at her clit.

  She whines and cries, breath hot and light in her lungs as her nails rip into the sheets to no damaging avail.  Natasha hovers above, watching on in her own longing and desire. She dips a hand beneath the hem of her dress, aside she pushes her own soaked panties and delicately dances her fingers over the sensitive bulb with a keening breath you hear catch in her throat. 

  Natasha leans down low until the scape of her breasts brushes against your shoulder blade, lips a tantalising thing and moving sinfully to mouth, “I’m touching myself to you.”

  “Watching you please her is making me so wet, Wolf.”

  “Make us both cum.”

  You growl deeply and Wanda’s body visibly shudders in response to the wild vibrations that course through her abdomen, shaking her whole and off centre, her hips begin to jerk as she nears her climax. Both women mingle in their euphoria and your own core comes to life, sparked by the noises they make in unison, an orchestra of pleasure. Suckling and licking at her core, she cries out and the lips of her pussy shrink around absence and she sighs in bliss. In tandem, Natasha moans loudly from behind and you feel her body press against you as her hand works hard as fucking her fingers into her cunt, the sound of slick and skin melding together addicting.

  “You weren’t… kidding, Nat,” she says between laboured breaths. 

  Slowing your advances, you finally pull away with a sigh, her juices glistening on your lips. Wanda looks at you and her cheeks flush at the sight before Natasha’s other hand forces your attention to her. Her lips connect with yours and her tongue darts over the bottom of yours, tasting Wanda with a delicious sound that you swallow. 

  After she pulls from you, she then shares a look with Wanda and the two of them grin. “Shall we reward her?” 

  “I think she’s been a good girl.”

  Oh, how the wolf loves that. Praise for a job well done you can hardly suppress your proud smirk. Buu before you can do much else, Natasha pushes you and your knees are knocked out from beneath you, Wanda having rolled to the side only to follow Natasha’s lead as they both halfway straddle you, otherwise keeping you pinned to the mattress below. 

  Together they peel away your dress pants, giggling and muttering to one another in that alluring tongue, your mind in a haze to catch barely a sentence shared between them but you gained awareness of what they intended when they each stroked their tongues over your stimulated pearl. 

  “‘Sh–shit!” you hiss sharply and your hips buck, the two women giggling at the sight of you writhing. 

  They give no further warning as they duck down. Their mouths work together against your clit, suckling it to draw pathetic whines from that deep part inside you dare not let anyone see, their voices trespass the air with betraying praises that speak only of teases and their tongues lap at the slick of your pussy that clenches at the attention. Your hands grapple the sheets and tear hard, the damage unnoted and not cared for. 

  “Girls– fuck!” you groan at the rise in your core, oh so ready to reach that climactic end that you have been denied for the past several weeks. It’s not too long that your first release has you whining, the nois a higher pitched sound that does slowly in broken notes as you cum, the girls moaning and allowing their lips to graze one another as they lapped and sucked you. 

  Wanda is the first to make eye contact and move towards you, her leg swoops over to fully straddle your stomach, in her hands is your belt. She rips the centre of your shirt apart, buttons flying to discarded corners of the room to be mere pebbles of disregard.

  You see the way her eyes drink in the sight of your toned muscles, the pinky tip of her tongue darting over her wet lips. 

  She adores the way you tilt your head to the side, a curious whine on your lips. “I’ve always wanted something on a leash. May I?”

  You don’t particularly care for the way her question hits a mark submerged deeper into your heart, reaching for something you denied was there. Dignity. Usually people just took from you and you came to accept that. Expect it. 

  You nod up at her and she fixes the belt around the column of your neck, the leather cool against the blazing heat of your skin, but something inside you flutters. Quickly, you push it down. 

  Natasha moves into the same position behind Wanda, your larger size very much able to accommodate both of them, Natasha trails light kisses along Wanda’s shoulder as she fastens the belt and gives an experimental tug. A soft grunt hitches in your throat in retort and you flash her a grin, the sharpened points of your fangs perched against your bottom lip. 

  “The wolf never let me tame her, Miss Maximoff.”

  “Oh, she just needed some reassurance,” Wanda replies gently with a smile. For a moment, you wanted to believe her words were sincere. Your hands run along Wanda’s thighs until they reach her hips and with a roll forward, she grinds her pussy against your torso, feeling the defined muscles press and tense against her, bringing her to moan under her breath. Natasha drapes a hand over your own to roll and pinch Wanda’s swollen clit, her eyes finding yours.

  “Watch her,” she commands breathlessly and you do so, amber glows in fluorescent pulses as Wanda biomes slick with her arousal. The fine artistry of their bodies moving together as they roll and grind against you, you cannot help but reach a hand up, claw catching the thin silk of Wanda’s bra and severing the contraption into two, letting it fall and reveal her plump breasts; her nipples erect. 

  Wanda circles an arm behind her and behind Natasha’s head, her back arching to the pleasure she becomes lost in, and you purely enjoy the show above, admiring the glow of sweat collecting on their skin, groaning as their slick covers your stomach as they ride you. The hand working Wanda’s clit speeds up and then slows, teasing the heiress, she gives you a sly grin. 

  “Do that thing with the claws,” she says and Wanda’s eyes open, as if awakening from her bliss and becoming enlightened with wonderment. 

  “W-what thing?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  You sit by the bed, elbow propped up on the chair’s arm with a glass in your grasp, imagination lost in the reverie of last night’s events with a smirk carved into your mouth. Both women lay wrapped together, bodies nude and pressed up to each other as they continue to sleep. You surely tired them out. 

  Thankfully and mostly dressed when Tony came wandering in, the band of his fellow brothers staying just beyond the room’s threshold, though it still didn’t make to hide the snarl creeping up your throat as the sudden intrusion. You take a sip of your drink as Tony scans the room, gaze flickering between the two women and you who bares an illuminated glare at him.

  “What the hell happened last night?”

  “We got her affirmative answer on the deal,” you answer with a raise of your glass in cheers before downing the last of your drink.

THANKS FOR READING!

✎ a note from the author, Long overdue, finally knocking this one out before it gets retired to permanent draft status ughhhh... *proceeds to fall face first in tired raccoon*

on this issue's taglist, we've got: @alexawynters @alyciaddict @simpforlizzie @literaturedog @maladaptive-daydreamz @mathxa @blackbirdv98

[xichilie]

Phainon x (fem) reader (4)

Part1 Part2 Part3 Part4

Phainon was already pacing by the edge of the newly formed pit, his usual bright energy replaced by sheer panic. He stared down into the darkness, fists clenched tightly. “We have to get her out. She could be hurt—or worse!”

“Would you stop pacing? You’re going to fall in too,” Mydei said, grabbing the back of Phainon’s coat to stop him from leaning too far. His calm, tough demeanor was still intact, though his furrowed brow betrayed his worry.

Tribbie knelt near the edge, peering into the dark abyss. Her blue eyes glimmered with determination. “It’s not that far down,” she said, pointing toward faint outlines of rocks below. “She’s probably okay… unless she landed on something sharp. Or something landed on her. Or—”

“Not helping, Tribbie!” Phainon snapped, his voice cracking slightly.

“Okay, okay!” Tribbie threw up her hands. “Just saying we need a plan!”

“Which is exactly what we’re doing,” Mydei said, already pulling a length of rope from his pack. “We go down and get her.”

“That’s obvious,” Phainon said impatiently, gesturing wildly toward the pit. “But what if there’s something else down there? What if—”

“You panicking isn’t helping either,” Mydei cut him off, his voice firm. “Keep it together, Phainon. She’ll be fine.”

Tribbie stood and brushed off her hands, shooting Phainon a reassuring smile. “She’s Y/N. If anyone’s going to handle this like a champ, it’s her. Still, Mydei’s right—we need to move fast.”

“What about Dan Heng and Trailblazer?” Mydei asked, tying a knot in the rope. “They’re not going to be thrilled if we leave them out of this.”

Tribbie nodded. “They’re not too far from where we split up earlier. I’ll go grab them. You two handle the ‘rescue operation’ while I run relay, alright?”

“Wait, why you?” Phainon asked, looking genuinely distressed.

Tribbie planted her hands on her hips, staring him down. “Because I’m the fastest and the smallest, and you two big guys can handle hauling her back up. Unless you want me down there with you, dragging Y/N out while you run to find backup.”

Phainon hesitated, then shook his head. “No. You’re right. Just… hurry, okay?”

Tribbie flashed a thumbs-up, already sprinting back toward the way they came. “I’m on it!”

Mydei turned his attention back to Phainon, handing him one end of the rope. “You ready?”

Phainon didn’t hesitate, grabbing the rope with both hands. “I’m going down first.”

“No, you’re not,” Mydei said flatly, looping the rope around a sturdy rock to secure it.

“What? Why not?” Phainon protested, his golden-retriever energy shifting into stubborn determination.

“Because you’ll get so distracted checking on Y/N, you’ll forget to watch your back,” Mydei said bluntly. “I’ll go first, make sure the path is clear. You follow once I give the signal.”

Phainon opened his mouth to argue but stopped when Mydei fixed him with a sharp glare. “Fine,” Phainon grumbled, his shoulders slumping slightly. “But hurry. Please.”

Mydei nodded and tugged on the rope, testing its strength. “She’s tough, Phainon. She’ll be fine.”

Phainon didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the pit below.

As Mydei began his careful descent into the darkness, Tribbie’s voice echoed faintly in the distance, calling out for Dan Heng and Trailblazer. Phainon gripped the rope tightly, his jaw set with determination.

“Hang on, Y/N,” he murmured under his breath. “We’re coming.”

____

The moment the ground gave way beneath her feet, Y/N felt a jolt of panic shoot through her chest. The darkness of the pit swallowed her almost immediately, leaving her disoriented as she tumbled downward.

The fall seemed endless. Wind rushed past her ears, and her fingers clawed at the empty air for anything to grab onto, but there was nothing. Only blackness.

Her mind raced as the descent continued. How deep is this thing? she thought, her heart pounding wildly. She tried to focus, bracing herself for the inevitable impact.

Then, just as suddenly as the fall had started, she hit something. But instead of jagged rocks or solid ground, she plunged into icy water.

The shock of the cold stole the air from her lungs, and she sank for a moment before instinct kicked in. Kicking her legs, she broke through the surface, gasping for breath. The sound of water lapping against unseen walls echoed around her, a stark reminder of how deep and empty this place was.

“Great,” she muttered to herself, wiping water from her eyes. Her voice echoed faintly, emphasizing just how alone she was. “A bottomless pit and a freezing underground lake. Perfect.”

Treading water, she took a moment to look around. Darkness pressed in on all sides, making it impossible to see where the lake ended or if there was any way out. She turned her head, squinting into the void, and that’s when she saw it—a faint light shimmering in the distance.

The glow was soft, almost otherworldly, and it reflected off the water like moonlight. It was coming from the far side of the cavern, beyond where she could see clearly.

“Well, that’s better than nothing,” she said, her voice a little steadier now.

She started swimming, her strokes strong and steady despite the weight of her damp clothes and gear. The water was cold enough to sap her energy if she stayed in too long, so she pushed herself to move faster.

The glow grew brighter as she neared it, and Y/N could just make out the edges of a rocky shore ahead. She allowed herself a small grin. “Still alive,” she muttered. “Not bad, Y/N. Not bad.”

As she swam closer to the light, she couldn’t help but wonder what she’d find on the other side. It wasn’t just the glow that intrigued her—it was the faint hum of energy that accompanied it, like the air itself was alive.

Her fingers finally brushed against solid rock, and she hauled herself out of the water, her boots scraping against the slippery surface. She sat there for a moment, catching her breath and wringing out her soaked gloves.

“Okay,” she said to herself, standing and looking toward the glowing passage ahead. “Let’s see where this rabbit hole goes.”

With cautious steps, she began moving toward the light, the faint hum growing louder with every step.

______

Phainon leaned as far over the edge as he dared, his eyes straining against the darkness below. “Did you hear that?” he asked, his voice tight with a mix of hope and anxiety.

“Hear what?” Mydei called up from where he was partway down the rope, his boots braced against the rock wall.

“That sound! Like… a splash.” Phainon’s ears perked up as if he were a hound catching a scent. “I think she landed in water!”

“You’re imagining things,” Mydei grumbled, adjusting his grip on the rope. “Or you’re just hoping that’s what happened.”

“No, I’m serious!” Phainon insisted, crouching down to peer into the pit again. “It was faint, but it was definitely water. She’s gotta be okay. She has to be.”

Mydei rolled his eyes and kept descending. “Even if you’re right, this rope isn’t long enough to reach the bottom. We’ll need to—”

The sentence cut off when the rope jerked suddenly, sending Mydei swinging against the wall with a loud grunt. “Damn it! It’s not secure enough for two people!”

Phainon winced, gripping the rope tighter from above. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to lean on it so much!”

“Then stop leaning!” Mydei barked. He braced himself against the wall, his sharp gaze scanning the depths below. The rope’s frayed end dangled uselessly a good ten meters above the bottomless darkness. “This isn’t going to work. We need another plan.”

Phainon frowned, glancing back toward the direction Tribbie had run. “We can’t wait for backup. What if she’s hurt? What if—”

“What if you stop panicking for five seconds?” Mydei cut him off, his voice dripping with irritation. “She’s not made of glass, Phainon. She’s probably—”

“Alive!” Phainon interrupted, his tone suddenly brighter. “See? You admit it! So we just need to get down there.”

Mydei pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re exhausting, you know that?”

“And yet, here we are,” Phainon shot back with a grin. “So, what’s the plan? We can’t just stand here!”

Mydei let out a long sigh, looking back at the dangling rope. “Fine. If you’re so eager, we jump.”

Phainon blinked, his grin faltering. “Wait, seriously?”

“Unless you’ve got a better idea,” Mydei said, his tone challenging. “We can’t climb the rest of the way, and the water you think you heard is probably our best bet.”

Phainon hesitated for half a second before nodding, his usual enthusiasm returning in full force. “Right. Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Hold on,” Mydei said, giving him a sharp look. “If you start flailing like an idiot on the way down, you’re on your own.”

“Flailing? Me? Never!” Phainon put a hand to his chest, feigning mock offense.

Mydei didn’t even dignify that with a response. Instead, he climbed back up to the ledge and secured his pack more tightly. “Stay close. If this goes wrong, at least I’ll have someone to yell at on the way down.”

Phainon chuckled nervously. “Reassuring. Very reassuring.”

Without another word, Mydei stepped to the edge, gave one last glance into the pit, and leaped.

“Wait, don’t just—oh crap!” Phainon shouted, watching him disappear into the abyss.

Not wanting to be left behind, Phainon took a deep breath, muttered a quick prayer to the Aeons, and jumped in after him.

The air rushed past him as he fell, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. He could see Mydei ahead, the faint outline of his form cutting through the darkness like a comet.

Just as Phainon began to wonder if they’d ever stop falling, the icy shock of water enveloped him. He plunged deep into the cold, the sudden chill stealing his breath.

Kicking his legs furiously, he broke the surface with a loud gasp, blinking water from his eyes. Mydei was already treading water nearby, his expression as stoic as ever.

“Told you it was water,” Phainon said breathlessly, a grin breaking through his panic.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mydei muttered, shaking droplets from his hair. “Now shut up and swim. We need to find her.”

The faint glow from deeper in the cavern caught their attention, and without another word, they started swimming toward it, their determination renewed.

The icy water sent shivers through Phainon as he swam, but his usual golden-retriever grin was back in full force. “See? I told you it was water!” he said, splashing a bit as he caught up to Mydei.

“And yet I’m the one who jumped first,” Mydei replied, his tone flat as always. His strokes were efficient, barely disturbing the water as he moved toward the glowing light in the distance.

“Because you’re bossy,” Phainon shot back with a playful smirk.

“Because someone had to keep you from breaking your neck,” Mydei corrected, not even glancing back.

As the light ahead grew brighter, the hum of energy became more noticeable, vibrating faintly in the water around them. Phainon squinted, trying to make out details as they neared the glow.

When they finally reached the edge of the water, both men pulled themselves onto a rocky outcrop. The glow wasn’t just light—it was a series of bioluminescent crystals embedded in the walls, their ethereal glow reflecting off the still water.

“Whoa,” Phainon muttered, his eyes wide as he looked around.

“Focus,” Mydei reminded him, standing and scanning the area. His sharp eyes caught something on the stone floor: a trail of wet footprints leading away from the water.

“She’s alive!” Phainon exclaimed, his grin growing wider. He immediately took off after the footprints, water dripping from his coat as he jogged ahead.

“Phainon, wait!” Mydei hissed, hurrying to catch up. “You don’t know what’s down here.”

“Yeah, but I know she’s down here!” Phainon called back, his voice echoing off the cavern walls.

The footprints led them through a winding tunnel, the bioluminescent crystals continuing to light their path. The hum of energy grew fainter as they moved deeper inside, replaced by the soft, almost melodic sound of running water.

When they emerged from the tunnel, the sight before them was nothing short of breathtaking.

The cavern opened up into a massive, lush expanse. Vibrant green grass blanketed the ground, dotted with wildflowers in every color imaginable. A gentle river cut through the center, its crystal-clear waters sparkling in the soft light filtering from somewhere unseen above. Ancient ruins rose from the earth like sleeping giants, their worn stone walls covered in moss and vines.

Phainon stopped in his tracks, his mouth falling open. “Is this… real?”

“Looks like it,” Mydei said, though even he couldn’t hide the slight awe in his voice.

“This is incredible,” Phainon murmured, stepping onto the grass and letting his fingers brush against the tall blades. It felt soft and cool, like something out of a dream.

Mydei nudged him. “Footprints.”

The trail of wet footprints continued through the grass, leading toward the ruins. Phainon immediately snapped back into focus, following the trail with renewed urgency.

As they approached the largest structure, a temple-like ruin with crumbling pillars and an arched entrance, they spotted her.

Y/N was sitting on a large, flat stone near the riverbank, her damp hair catching the light. She had removed her boots and was wringing water from her coat, her sword resting beside her. She looked surprisingly calm, as if she’d wandered into a peaceful oasis instead of falling into a bottomless pit.

The moment Phainon spotted Y/N sitting by the riverbank, safe and sound, it was like the weight of the entire universe lifted off his shoulders. His blue eyes widened, and without thinking, he bolted toward her, his wet boots slipping slightly on the mossy stones.

“Y/N!” he yelled, his voice cracking with raw relief.

Y/N turned her head, startled, her damp hair catching the soft glow of the bioluminescent crystals. She blinked in confusion at the frantic look on his face, but before she could say anything, Phainon closed the distance in a flash.

She barely had time to brace herself before he tackled her into a hug, his strong arms wrapping around her with the kind of urgency you’d expect from someone who thought he’d lost her forever. The sheer force of it nearly sent them both tumbling back into the water.

“Phainon!” she yelped, more surprised than annoyed, as he buried his face into her shoulder.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, his voice muffled against her. “You’re okay, you’re okay…” He repeated it like a mantra, as if saying it enough times would finally calm the storm inside him.

Y/N froze for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden affection. Slowly, she let out a soft chuckle and awkwardly patted his back. “Uh… yeah, I’m okay. But, uh, I might not stay that way if you crush me.”

Phainon immediately loosened his grip but didn’t let go, his forehead still pressed lightly against her shoulder. “Sorry,” he mumbled, his voice tinged with embarrassment. “I just… I thought… when you fell…” His words faltered, the usually bright and talkative Phainon struggling to find the right ones.

Y/N softened, her teasing smile fading. “Hey, I’m fine. Really,” she said gently, her tone carrying a warmth that seemed to ground him. “See? Not a scratch on me.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands still resting lightly on her arms. His blue eyes searched her face for any signs of pain or injury, but all he found was her calm, amused expression.

“You’re… sure?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

Y/N smiled, her tone laced with playful reassurance. “Positive. I even got a free swim out of it.”

That earned a small laugh from Phainon, his golden-retriever energy starting to seep back in. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

Before either of them could say anything else, a loud, exasperated voice interrupted them.

“Are you planning to let go of her anytime soon, or should I come back later?” Mydei’s sharp tone cut through the moment like a blade.

Phainon jumped, immediately letting go of Y/N and stumbling a step back. “I—I wasn’t—! I mean—!” He tripped over his words, his face turning a brilliant shade of pink.

Y/N laughed, brushing off her damp coat and giving Mydei a casual shrug. “It’s fine, Mydei. Let him have his moment.”

“His ‘moment’ nearly knocked you back into the water,” Mydei muttered, crossing his arms and raising an unimpressed eyebrow at Phainon.

Phainon scratched the back of his head, his sheepish grin doing little to mask his embarrassment. “Uh… sorry about that. I just… got a little carried away.”

“A little?” Mydei deadpanned.

“Okay, a lot,” Phainon admitted, throwing his hands up in surrender. “But can you blame me? She fell into a pit!”

“And yet she’s perfectly fine,” Mydei replied with a pointed look at Y/N. “Which is more than I can say for your dignity.”

Y/N snorted, giving Mydei a playful glare. “Alright, that’s enough out of you. Both of you, actually. We’ve got more important things to worry about than Phainon’s dramatics.”

Phainon straightened up, eager to prove himself useful. “Right! More important things! Like… this place!” He gestured to the lush surroundings, his enthusiasm bubbling back to the surface.

Y/N nodded, her expression shifting into one of awe as she took in the vibrant grass, the sparkling river, and the towering ruins. “Yeah… this place is incredible. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“And that’s what worries me,” Mydei muttered, his gaze scanning the ruins with a wary eye.

But Phainon’s focus had already shifted back to Y/N. He watched as her eyes sparkled with curiosity, her earlier fall seemingly forgotten as she took in the wonder of their surroundings. His heart did a little flip when she turned to him and flashed him a grin.

“Come on, Phainon,” she said, nudging him lightly with her elbow. “You didn’t jump into a freezing pit just to stand there gawking, did you?”

Phainon laughed, his cheeks still faintly pink. “Nope! Lead the way, fearless leader!”

As she turned and started toward the ruins, Mydei sighed heavily and followed. Phainon lingered for a moment, his smile softening as he watched her go.

“Hopeless,” Mydei muttered under his breath as he passed Phainon.

Phainon snapped out of his daze and jogged to catch up. “What? I’m not hopeless!”

“You absolutely are,” Mydei replied, not even bothering to look at him.

[just-null]

PET AU?????!!!! Oh mighty cult leader please give us, your greatful pitful annons, your divine words and opinions (I would cuddle the heck out of all of themm!!!)

As you wish, my beloved cult member!!

this is more of an explanation of the universe than headcanons. Those will be next, but I hope it's still interesting!! This will be tagged under "null kny pet au" to not be confused with anyone else's version

Long story short— reincarnation is a thing here! Bad people turn into animals and go through an endless cycle over and over until they've truly repented for their misdeeds.

To make things interesting, I bent the rules of how things usually work! This is my version of a pet au, and of course, is still yandere because your cult leader is an addict. I'M SORRY IF YOU WERE EXPECTING FLUFF.... THATS LATER. TRUST!!!!!!!!!

[CW! dark themes, alluding to past trauma and "self exit," self destructive behaviors(?), sedation and drugs, dehumanization(?), yandere obsessive goodness]

The pet aspect of this au!

Demons are hybrids who're likely to restart their cycle, giving them their nickname of lost souls. Human characters are hybrids at the pinnacle of rehabilitation, referred to as guiding souls. And you, who's nearby their hybrid shelter. Either working in it or being in its vicinity.

Guiding souls are allowed to be housed by responsible candidates, but it's unlikely for lost souls. Either way the problem is they turn everyone away except you.

Both guiding souls and lost souls have a deep rooted affection towards you. You definitely don't remember it, but they've been with you for many, many, MANY life times, always restarting and eagerly awaiting for stage three and four of the cycle to find you again.

Lower and Upper moons + Muzan have reincarnated more times than you can fathom, yet they can remember most of them. Their psyche is fragile and incredibly hostile towards almost anybody. Not recommended for new staff or housing candidates.

Slayers + Ubuyashiki reincarnated more than average. They committed sins they're ashamed of and show great promise for change. They're practically regular model citizens, except for the occasional outburst. Very well liked by staff and potential housing candidates!!

Guiding souls and lost souls are separated in the shelter but are occasionally allowed to roam and interact with each other. They bicker at best and get into full fist fights at worst. It's highly recommended to be gentle but firm with both. Only guiding and lost souls have both seen and experienced the worst of what life can offer, and staff don't want to cause a frenzy by startling them.

———

They're not always transparent with their thoughts. It's more than likely that they don't tell you about their experiences as most would rather focus on their life now rather than how it used to be or what's coming next. Some will tell you if asked, others will dance around it, and others initially refuse.

Still, they'll go through the agony and pain of life after miserable life again and again if it meant being blessed by your light in one of them.

If they're able to have feelings this intense for one being, lost souls refuse to see themselves in the wrong. Feelings like this should be praised. They should be considered good in the eyes of the divine, shouldn't it? What if the universe is wrong for once, huh?! They've lied, cheated, stole, hurt, even killed all to be able to get to you sooner. To feel you again! Their feelings for you are so pure, there's no way it could possibly be another reason to restart!! Even if it was, does it really matter?! What the universe dictates is irrelevant anyway, you're their choice and always will be. So long as you have a soul that continues to shine brightly, they'll find their way towards you when the cycle restarts. Guiding souls are.. anxious. They want to do good by you, want to be seen with love like they've achieved before, want to get to know every version of you and fall in love with every iteration. The finish line is RIGHT there, they know this, it's always been so close, and they'll be able to live by your side as equals.. But they know if they complete the cycle, complete stage four, become fully reborn, they won't remember you. After so many horrible lives lived, they finally understood what it meant to be remorseful about what led them into this mess. Saying that, they can't bring themselves to let go of you. What's the point in living a peaceful existence when there will always be a part of them missing? That's why they "personally restart" their cycle, uncaring that they're so close to forgiveness.

Not every life was kind on them. Silver lining, at least they know they have a new body without the physical scars of their experiences anymore, and of course, you! Though.. even you were harsh sometimes, but they'd rather pull all their teeth out than leave your side. Preferably, they hope you'll throw them a bone and be cordial at least, but if you want to beat, scream, or drive them away, they'll always come back. No matter what you do, they'll forever be loyal to you and you only.

If this is what it takes, they'll love you over and over in this never ending torturous loop until time ends, so until then, spare them a glance, yeah? You don't know how much they've missed you..

—————

Unnecessarily detailed lore:

SHORT STORY LONG, reincarnation is real here, and it's commonly known that when bad people die, their soul is reborn into an animal. Bad meaning murder, assault, ruining someone's life, intense crimes like that. It can be avoided if the soul had no other choice or feels deep remorse prior to their human life ending.

Failure to meet those requirements begins "the cycle." Each lifetime is a show of dedication to turn back into a full human. A step towards forgiveness from the world they wronged. Souls will retain the excruciating memory of their lives before, only given the mercy of forgetting and keeping the wisdom they earned once they're reborn into a full blooded human.

Animals who're just animals exist, but it's extremely difficult to tell who's a soul under trial and who's not.

It starts off simple, an insect. Depending on how bad the soul was, they'll be something that has a difficult life, like those moths that starve to death upon entering adulthood. Souls will always progress to the next stage after this one, temporarily forgetting about their previous lives.

The next life is exactly the same, but souls regain the ability to remember all their past lives again.

Next is a land mammal or aquatic creature, something easier than before, but still not strong enough to cause havoc. They have a little more intelligence than before.

Then souls become half human, half animal, or more commonly known, hybrids. They might as well be human with animal characteristics, but due to societal interference and their history, they're regarded as subhuman. Like pets.

Lastly, they are fully human, where they get to keep their appreciation for life and forget the past.

The real test is during stage four. If the soul proves to have learned nothing from their previous lives, they'll restart the cycle from the beginning and try again. Ending their life will not count and only restart the cycle. They must die of natural causes.

Extra notes:

There are souls who've restarted numerous times that when they reach stage four again, they're very fragile or aggressive. Due to this, humans adapted to shelter them and help give them another chance at life. It's not uncommon for these souls to try and use their memories to give themselves an upper hand in their next life, forcing humans to give them less autonomy. The more aggressive a soul the more humans will have to use force to keep them down such as sedation, muzzling, restraints. It's often used for lost and guiding souls out of any other type of hybrid but used as a last resort. Risks like these are one of the main reason why hybrids aren't allowed on the streets without supervision or an owner. Souls under trial can get attached to one another, familial wise, platonically, or romantically. As a twisted sense of both mercy and punishment, the world allows them to be reborn together. The cruel part comes when the older of the pair is the first to be reborn, leaving the younger to follow when it's their time. At least they know that the world will allow them to find each other once again in the next life. Sometimes, souls under trial try finding the human soul they've grown attached to in stages three and four, in this case, you. Because of the never ending cycle of punishment, they crave your hold, your care, your love. You. They want to get back to you as soon as possible, and if that means coming to you as a small animal first, then so be it. Some have probably done that numerous times before.

Truly, reincarnated souls who've grown attached to someone are dangerous both to others and themselves. They'll do anything for their human and let their human do anything them.

The current life cycle where this au takes place is one of the best life times they've all had. So yes, cuddling them is like winning the jackpot!

[emmg]

Imagine for a second everyone ends up happy and Lavellan and Solas get back together. Cue Dorian popping a blood vessel.

Dorian: “You’re back with this fuck?"

Lavellan, flustered: "I can explain—"

Dorian: "With this living omelette?"

Lavellan: "It's not—"

Dorian: "This balding crypt keeper with the emotional range of a brick wall and a wardrobe that makes him look like a discount drapery store threw up on him? The same one who poofed away after saying some cryptic shit about I WiSh iT CoUlD vHenAn?"

Solas: “The mark would have—"

Dorian: "Shut the fuck up, cue ball. I don't care if the mark was going to explode, you still look like you wash your clothes in your own self-pity. And you—" jabs a finger at Lavellan, "what’s your excuse? Has it really been so long that the sight of a naked skull and endless 'mystical' speeches turned you on again?"

Lavellan: “It’s more than that—"

Dorian: "More than that?! He abandoned you, took your fucking arm, and now you’re letting him back in your bed? Are you out of your mind or just starved for terrible decisions? You could’ve had anyone. But no, you pick the fade's worst motivational speaker.”

Solas: “Master Pavus, this is between—”

Dorian: “Oh no, don’t even try that ‘Master Pavus’ nonsense with me. You’ve got the emotional depth of a wet mop and a sex appeal that makes a mud pit look enticing. And yet here you are, again, trying to guilt-trip your way back into her pants with your world-saving speeches. What is it, Solas? You gonna whisper sweet nothings about 'the averted apocalypse' this time? Maybe throw in a lecture on why she was just not woke enough to understand your big, tragic plan but it's fine since everything worked out?"

Rook and Emmrich in their happy, non toxic relationship: :0

Solas: "Dorian—"

Dorian: "No, no, shut the fuck up. Seriously, what do you even do that’s remotely appealing? What did you do for the past ten years? Did you just sit there, staring at a wall, philosophizing about how it’s not 'connected to the Fade' while Lavellan was over there, not that far, mind you, actually trying to live her life?"

Lavellan, miserably: “Dorian, please—"

Dorian: "Do you know how many tears she cried over your wrinkly, bald ass? The sleepless nights? And for what? So you could show up with the same damn sad expression, like a dog that got kicked, expecting her to fall right back into your arms? Well, congratulations, you manipulative little twat, it worked. You got her again. But if you think for one second I’m going to sit here and let this farce play out without letting you know exactly what I think—"

Solas: “This is not your concern—"

Dorian, grinning viciously: "Not my concern? Oh, it’s my concern now, you ancient, egg-headed disaster. You took her arm, and now, what? You’re back for the other one too? What’s next? Gonna steal her dignity too? No, wait—" He flips both of them off. "You already did that. Honestly, Lavellan, were you that desperate? Did your standards drop so low that this walking mid-life crisis seemed like a good idea AGAIN?"

Lavellan, trying to hide: "I just thought—"

Dorian: "No, no, you didn't think. You never think when it comes to this pointy-eared monk reject. You just let him walk all over you with his cryptic, brooding bullshit and now here we are—again. Tell me, Lavellan, how many bad life choices does it take before you finally learn not to open your legs to misery?"

Lavellan: “Dorian—”

Dorian, rounding on Solas: "You’ve got some nerve coming back, Solas. You with your ‘oh woe is me, I didn't fix the world so I'll ruin this woman's life instead again’ schtick. And for what? What do you even have to offer besides a fucking headache and a masterclass in celibacy?”

[idyllic-affections]

Would u please do Arlecchino adopting a reader? I just want to be adopted by our dearest Arlecchino

warmth.

summary. arlecchino's warmth is quite an effective repellent for snezhnaya's everlasting cold.

trigger & content warnings. home invasion, gunshots are mentioned, a bit of violence in general, reader's parents are murdered (not by arlecchino) but it is non-descriptive and reader does not witness it.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. hurt/comfort, found family-ish. arlecchino & child!reader. 1.1k words. they/them pronouns used for reader.

author's thoughts. hehehehehe arle <3 i was supposed to write a fic featuring kafka (hsr) today in celebration of her coming home. Erm. yeah. That did not happen! clearly. /lh

       It happened all too quickly.

       It truly was a peaceful night, just like any other. The fire crackled on soothingly in the background, shadows dancing on the walls, and the warmth staving off the frigid cold that was all but characteristic of Snezhnaya's nights. Peering out the window would reveal the light, steady snowfall; typically, more blizzard-like conditions would be present, but perhaps the Tsaritsa was in quite a good mood that night in particular, for the snow was gentle in its falling and the winds did not rage on cruelly, biting and nipping angrily at any unfortunate person caught out in the middle of the storm.

       Their mother hummed a soft lullaby to them as her calloused fingers, all thanks to years of sewing and hunting combined, rubbed up and down their back. Their father had been in the kitchen—cooking was a responsibility shared between their parents (and really, how could he have asked his wife to move when their beloved, sweet child was half-asleep on her lap? That was a /far/ too wicked request. No, he would not dare disturb theirs and their mother's peace).

       ...And in a split second, it had all come crumbling down.

       Someone's weight was thrown against the door, causing a loud slam! to resonate within the walls.

       Once, and their mother sprung up, jerking them awake with her motions. In their half-asleep state, they hardly understood what was going on as their father rushed defensively out of the kitchen with an axe.

       Twice, and their mother gathered them in her arms before darting towards the back of the house—the absolute farthest end—at her husband's command. She rushed into one of the bedrooms, swiftly ripping the closet door open and pushing them in, insisting quietly that they hid among the pile of thick winter coats where they would not be seen.

       "You just have to hide for a little, okay?" she murmured softly, deft hands pulling coats over their little body and face. "And remember—stay quiet, okay? Shh."

       At the end of her sentence, she made a shushing motion with a shaky, trembling smile.

       Perhaps it was her attempt at soothing them, but children are often not so easily fooled. The gesture did naught to calm their pounding heart. She had done her best to look certain and reassuring, but all it did was make them all the more terrified.

       Their mother stood up, closing the closet door only slightly; it may look suspicious if it had been closed completely, she thought.

       Then, she was gone, and they were left only with the company of their thoughts.

       It was mostly quiet for a few minutes. They could vaguely make out the muffled sounds of talking—fighting, more accurately. It sounded angry. As if these invasive strangers were demanding something.

       They choked back a sob as the walls shook around them due to the noise. A scream, then a gunshot, then another, and then silence.

       Through the silence, they could discern the sound of wet slicing. Their heart dropped further into the endless pit of their stomach as they tried their best to curl further into themselves and the pile of coats.

       Click, click, click...

       Heels, gradually getting louder as their wearer approached. Someone was coming. Someone was going to find them.

       It all happened far too quickly.

       ...And now, before them, none other than the Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers was kneeled. It was not hard for her to find them, not with all their shuffling and shaking and heavy, anxious breathing.

       Interestingly, she was far less threatening than what they thought she might be. They didn't doubt that she had the capacity to be absolutely horrifying, but with them...

       "You can come out now," she encouraged. Her tone could hardly be described as forceful; if anything, she was... suprisingly gentle. Patient, even, as she held out her hand invitingly. It was as if she were coaxing a frightened animal out from its hiding place. "There is no longer anything to be afraid of."

       Still, they hesitated. "Where—" Their throat was dry with terror and their little voice trembled as it came out. With shaking hands, they moved some of the coats off of them. The Knave did note, however, that they clung to one particlar coat; it must have belonged to one of their parents, if she had to guess. Children clung onto sentimental items like that. They swallowed and tried again: "Where are my parents?"

       "They are no longer with us. I am sincerely sorry. Had I arrived sooner, they might have lived."

       A tremble shook their whole body—whether it was from the cold seeping into their house through the open front door (though the room they were in was a few twists and turns in a hallway away, the Snezhnayan cold was a unique beast in that it could turn a house frigid in a matter of seconds) or from grief, they could not be sure.

       "Where..." They sniffled, hands balled into small fists as they tried to rub away the tears gathering in their eyes. "What do I do? I don't wanna be alone..."

       "You won't be," Arlecchino said. "You will come with me. You will never be alone again."

       All they could do was stumble out of the closet, coat held firmly in their hands and nod. Where else were they supposed to go? Furthermore, how were they meant to say no to a Fatui Harbinger? She was kind enough to offer to take them somewher, and truly, anywhere would have been better than the cold and lonely house in which their parents were killed.

       Though, it was greatly debatable whether the Fourth was being kind or opportunistic.

       At their young age, they couldn't wrap their mind around any ulterior motives she may have had. They could not so much as consider such a thing, not when she so kindly and tenderly took the coat from their hands, wrapped it around their shivering body, and hoisted them up into her arms. She radiated a warmth that they could not help but lean into, head coming to rest on her squared and confident shoulder. It was not so unbearbly cold when they were in her arms.

       One might regard her mannerisms... parental, as if she had great experience with young children and their needs. It surely seemed so, considering how effortlessly and fluidly she handled them. It was like she had done it a million times before.

       Indeed, it would not be surprising if that were the case.

       Arlecchino hummed, adjusting their weight in her arms slightly.

       Then, her nails softly raked over their head and through their hair. Her smooth, self-assured voice reached their ears with a command they could not deny or resist:

       "Rest for now, little one."

please consider reblogging with kind tags or comments, it helps me out quite a lot!

[ssuburban-legendss]

please, please, please | m.v

summary: it's race week in hungary and the house of red bull is breaking down 

word count: 3k+

- July 20th, 2024. Hungary. -

There was nothing like a race weekend.

Milliseconds seemed to stretch for lifetimes, and a mere blink could last for an eternity. The hum of blood rushing in one’s ears, the burning, beating heart… it was everything. Every race was just as thrilling as it was terrifying and tense. 

Even now—even after years of living between breaths, you still weren’t used to the singing adrenaline. Maybe you never would be. 

How could one get used to screaming wheels and blinding lights? How could one stand that ache in the chest and tension of the heart? And how could you overcome the worry and fear that consumed your very being every time Max stepped into that car? 

Oh, Max. 

You sat in the garage, staring up at the live feed and cradling a crackling headset over your ears. Around you, various crew members were watching the televisions closely or busying themselves with screens and tools. Everyone else was along the pit wall, crafting magic in real-time. 

Part of you wished that you could listen to their live chatter instead of the F1 TV broadcast, but an even greater part of you knew that such constant and unfiltered coverage would make your head spin. There was already too much happening on television; you didn’t need extra noise.

In some ways, qualifying was worse than the actual race. The desperation for a faster lap, the frustration, and the bubbling tension. Some days, it was just too much. And today, with the rain and the endless media coverage… 

Maybe you needed more coffee.

“Mate, I don’t think we can improve like this.” Max’s voice crackled across your headphones, flooding through your ears and sparking your nerves alight. He sounded… nervous. Or maybe it was tension. You weren’t sure, but neither emotion was appealing.

Even from a distance, you could imagine the furrow between Max’s brow and the slight pout of his lip. His every expression was known to you, but what good would that do now? You felt trapped behind glass, watching him spin circles as his voice echoed in your ears. The only person that could reach him now was GP, and even then…

The past few weeks had been tense. Between the constant media attention and the slow decline in form, cracks were beginning to sprout in the marble pillars of Red Bull’s house. Even Max seemed less sure lately, falling behind on the circuits he once called home. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to forget the exhaustion in his voice. It was only Q1, yet it felt like you had been here for days.

“What’s your concern?” GP responded, his tone steady and smooth. “The temperatures or the…”

“The rain! The rain!” Max shouted back, instantly turning all nerves into boiling blood and burning rage. The sharpness of his words made you cringe, and a slight nervous nausea began to bloom in your stomach. Oh dear. A million thoughts rushed through your head at once, mixing into a crumbled cloud of anxiety. 

It was hard to pull Max back down once the frustration bubbled over. There was no such thing as “Mad Max”—at least not to you, but the anger was real, and it was hard to take or tame. And it was unending. Rage clouded some people’s judgment, but not Max. If anything, he seemed to find clarity in burning breath and bitter words. The ache and anger could keep him going for hours on end—lap after lap. But it also sent him spiraling downward, lost in his head and a faraway place you couldn’t find. He was unreachable in those moments, and you hated it. 

“Okay, calm down, Max.” GP replied, “Then, if you’re concerned about the rain, we can box. We can come back to the garage, it’s not a problem—“

Another voice cut through the conversation, screaming in your headset and flashing across the live feed, “Perez!”

You refocused your attention on the present and scanned the screens, looking for the F1 News Feed. At last, your eyes landed on the television, and the camera zoomed in hungrily on Checo’s smoking car. 

Red Flag.

One of the workers along the barrier gave a thumbs up. Okay. He was okay. A strangely tense sigh left your throat. 

“One Red Bull driver being calmed down on the radio, the other one—in the part of the track that we were just referencing—finds the barrier. And as a driver under pressure coming into the weekend—“

You turned off your headset and ignored the rest of the broadcast. Checo was fine, and that was all that mattered. You made a mental note to call Carola later and tried to keep your face indifferent and easy. You were certain that cameras were scanning the garage now, looking for some misplaced expression or glance to sensationalize into another disaster or distraction. 

Oh, disaster. 

One Red Bull driver being calmed down on the radio... You heard the commentary echoing in your head over and over. Was everyone thinking the same thing as you? Was everyone worried that Max was slipping into inconsolable anger? He had never been good at hiding his frustration, but now was not the time for such lapses in judgment. You mentally begged for his ease of heart but knew such things were impossible. The stress was beginning to cut into everyone’s skin. 

After a few moments, Max returned to the garage and his car was pulled back into place. Now, all anyone could do was hurry up and wait. 

It was hard being so close to Max and yet so far away. Being in the garage was a blessing, but sometimes it felt like you were forced apart and held at arm's length. Sometimes, the two of you could talk between sessions and during 

breaks, but it was probably best to stay out of everyone’s way with things so tense. 

Before you could search for a distraction, however, one of the engineers waved you over and nodded to Max’s car. A helmet covered the man’s face, and it was hard to focus completely on anything, but the message of his gesture was clear: pep talk time. 

Oh. That bad, huh?

You wove your way through the mess of technology and restless bodies and found yourself beside the still humming car. Endless words drifted around your head, but choosing the right thing to say felt impossible. Things had been tense for weeks, and today felt like the final straw. Control was slipping, and Max was sinking back into the unease of his youth. You could already see the headlines and tweets. You could already see the comments under your posts. You could already hear the commentary. Mad Max. Mad Max. Mad Max.

Taking a deep breath, you stuck your head into the cockpit and flipped up Max’s visor, trying to seem bubbly and calm—yet Max was already glaring. 

“Hi.” You said, making sure to enunciate the word. He couldn’t hear you, but it didn’t matter—you just wanted to see him, and you hoped that was enough. 

Max blinked, his blond eyelashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks. His gaze softened slightly at your words, but the ice in his eyes didn’t melt entirely. Hi. 

A million words flashed through your mind. What now? What could you possibly say now that would change all this? How did you pull Max back from the edge? Thousands of statistics and hundreds of practiced speeches floated through your thoughts, but none seemed good enough. All you could think about was the tension in his voice and the mocking commentary and—

“I love you.” Your heart spoke without permission, pulling forth the only thing that truly mattered. “I love you, okay?”

A slight crease wove between Max’s brow as he watched your mouth—trying to decode your words through the senseless sound. After a delayed second, realization twinkled in his eyes, and he smiled. Instantly, the cold glare faded from his gaze, and he seemed like your Max again, with flushed cheeks and crinkling eyes under the blinding garage lights. I love you, too.

———

Later that night, the waves of uncertainty returned. 

P3. 

The position rattled around in your head and made your heart sting. Last year, this race had been easy. Though qualifying had ended with Lewis on pole, Max had regained the position on Sunday and crafted a lead of thirty-three seconds. That had been his best gap all season. So, how had thirty-three seconds turned into P3? Of course, the position wasn’t terrible, but something was definitely wrong. Everything felt wrong these days. You just hoped that Max would keep his head long enough to correct it. 

You glanced across the table, carefully observing the strain in Max’s expression. His brows were furrowed and tense, hanging low over his eyes and casting deep shadows across his face. Even his gaze seemed cloudy, as the clear blue-green of his eyes appeared dull and distant. An exhausted flush still stained his cheeks, but the red made him look sickly and sad in the fading daylight. 

Seeing him like this was agony. 

The media and the internet could rave about “Mad Max” all they wanted, yet you saw the truth in the dim light of his trailer. The anger and sharp edges masked a trembling lip and bleary eyes.   Your Max was lost somewhere in his head, caught between the kart from years before and the car of today—and it hurt. 

“You did your best.” You said, pushing scraps of dinner around on your plate. “It’s just a hard run, yeah?” Despite yourself, your voice cracked. It had been at least an hour since either of you spoke, and between the emotion and strain, your words shattered in the tense air. 

“It’s a shit run.” Max corrected sharply, pointing his spoon at you, “I don’t think everyone understands that. It’s a fucking shit run.” Though his eyes were set on your face, Max’s gaze seemed miles away, and the bitterness of his words felt directionless. 

Still angry, then. Not your Max, just Mad Max. 

“I wasn’t trying to pick a fight, m’just saying,” You replied, pushing his accusing spoon away with yours, “You just do your best tomorrow. News said there shouldn’t be rain, so that’ll be good.” 

Max huffed, unconvinced and frustrated, “We’ll see.” 

He was fighting with himself again, battling ghosts in his chest and competing against a past that would never truly fade. Yet the sinking spiral and flames of rage wouldn’t do any good. The media was crazy enough right now, and frankly, you felt crazy too. You needed him beside you, and you needed him to be calm. You wanted your Max back. If the car, the team, and the whole thing were going to hell, you just wanted him to make it out. 

You thought about Carola, stuck at home while her husband’s car smoked and sizzled on live TV. You didn’t want to remember how that felt. You didn’t want to recall the trembling hands and shaking breath. You needed Max steady and safe. Mad Max crashed cars and sent your head spinning—your Max needed to be something more.

With a tired sigh, you leaned across the table and kissed his cheek, relishing in the warmth of his skin below your lips. Some of the tension in his expression melted below your touch, “Just be good, please.” You breathed, hoping the warmth of your words against his flushed face would find a place in his heart. “And safe.” 

Max pulled back and smiled a little too brightly—his eyes glittering with mischief, “I’m very good.” 

With a huff, you sat back down and gave him a playful kick under the table, “Yeah, right. You’re yelling at GP, and suddenly everyone on Twitter is going on about Mad—“

“It’s actually X.” Max corrected in a superior tone. 

“Don’t start.” You tried to sound serious, but a teasing smile bloomed on your face, and laughter bubbled from your chest. It was nice to see him relaxed, even just a little. “I’m trying to scold you.”

With a laugh, Max leaned back in his chair and stretched slightly, reaching for something unseeable. The casual motion and the gentle crinkle of his face eased you a little, soothing something in your pounding heart. This is the Max you needed on the track tomorrow—this is the Max you needed in the media pen and in the garage. This is the Max that would live long enough to come home. 

“I’m going to play,” Max said, breaking your spiraling thoughts, “You’ll come?”

You glanced at your watch. It was getting late, but you hadn’t spent extended time together in weeks. You hummed and gave in, “Sure, just for a bit.”

Max beamed, and suddenly, everything was worth it—the extra coffee you’d have to drink tomorrow, the extra time you’d have to spend getting ready. It was all worth five more seconds of peace and grins. Still smiling, Max pressed several disorganized kisses to your face until you were beaming, too. 

———

Max’s gaming room was connected to the main living space, overflowing with electronics and blinking lights. 

You trailed behind Max, swinging your linked hands and flicking on your phone so you could scroll through social media. The qualifying results consumed most of your feed, as did senseless speculation.

“Did you get a look at Checo’s car?” You asked, still looking at your phone and curling into a chair beside the computer. “I’m sure the boys will be up all night on that.” 

Max let go of your linked hands and settled into his seat. From this angle, you were just out of the camera’s vision, but still within Max’s peripheral. Though he hardly spared anything else a glance during streams or gaming sessions, you quickly realized that he didn’t like being alone. Max seemed more at ease even when the two of you simply sat in silence. Besides, you didn’t really like being on camera anyway—the very last thing Red Bull needed right now was extra attention or scrutiny. The common narrative that having a girlfriend only distracted athletes always arrived just in time to bite you in the ass. You didn’t need that right now. Max didn’t need that right now. You were barely hanging on as it was. 

“Might have to start in the pit tomorrow,” Max said, slowly flipping switches and bringing his computer to life. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something else, but he simply shrugged, “Shit weekend.” 

You hummed, scrolling through your phone and trying to change the subject. He had relaxed slightly after dinner, and you didn’t want him falling back into despair and rage, “How long you got until lights out?”

During race weekends, every second was meticulously arranged. Meals were crafted according to specific weight and energy requirements, interviews were slotted between breaths, and curfew was enforced so drivers met perfectly planned out sleep schedules. 

Technically, you weren’t even allowed in here after dark, but you and Max stole seconds whenever possible. 

“Don’t care,” Max replied, shooting you a pleased, dazzling grin. 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, trying to fight a scarlet blush, “Alright.”

His manager would certainly have something to say about that, but you let it go. There was no point in arguing. It had been a long day for both of you, and this was how Max relaxed—video games and vitriol. 

The following two hours passed by in a blink. Max played and chatted with his friends while you relished in the happiness of his cheers and the joy in his laughter. He seemed most himself in these moments—late at night, away from the garage and speaking nonsense with his friends. He loved racing, you knew he loved racing, but in soft seconds like this, you wished he would just retire. You would give anything to sit with him all day long, intertwining your legs under the table and smiling while he laughed. You would give anything just to kill time with him. 

Eventually, though, your yawns and bleary eyes won out over your heart. You needed sleep. He needed sleep. Ugh, if only you could sleep here. How much was that fine again? 

Unwilling to find out, you sent Max a text: Camera Off. 

After a slight delay, a chime sounded through the room, and Max glanced sideways at his phone. Without hesitation, he mumbled a quick dismissal and switched off his camera and microphone. 

“What?” He blinked at you, hanging on your every word. For a second, he seemed tense—still half on the track. 

“I gotta go,” You said, standing. “Getting late.” You reached for Max’s face and brushed a light touch along his cheek, trying to memorize the curves of his features to hold you off until tomorrow. Oh, how you wished the ease in his eyes would last forever. 

“Going to bed?” He asked, leaning into your touch immediately and staring up at you with electric blue-green eyes. He wanted you to stay. 

You laughed lightly, gently combing a hand through his hair and twisting blond strands around your fingertips, “I was gonna call Carola but m’tired. I should be sleeping. You too. Long day tomorrow.”

Max rolled his eyes, though the gesture had no malice behind it, just playful exhaustion. He leaned forward and rested his chin on your stomach with a childish sigh and slight pout, “Whatever.”

His easy closeness made your neck flush with warmth, and suddenly, that imaginary fine didn’t seem so steep. All reason and reality melted away as your eyes scanned the sunspots on his face and traced the twinkling in his eyes. 

Then you remembered the yelling, Checo’s crash, reporters, endless speculation, and… You needed to stay focused. 

Summer break was coming up fast. You could wait until summer break. All the light and laughter in the world could wait a few more days. 

“I’ll see you later,” You said, running your fingertips across his features, “Go to bed soon, okay? Please.”

“Okay,” Max said brightly—definitely lying. He quickly kissed the inside of your wrist as you traced an invisible line down his nose, “Night.”

There was no such thing as “Mad Max”—at least not to you, at least not right now. 

“Night.”

[spectorswife]

Where the Heart Never Left

Pairing: Kuai Liang/reader

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: 18+ only, SMUT with plot, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, biting, fingering, edging, afab!reader, let me know if I missed anything please.

AN: this is my first time writing a fanfiction, so I apologize in advance if this is terrible. This is definitely not proof read

This takes place during part 1 of the story, after Bihan and Kuai fought. (I have not played the DLC yet so please no spoilers) but enjoy the read :)

MDNI PLEASE

It’s been weeks since you stood by Bi-Han, trying to rebuild the Lin Kuei in his image, and every day feels heavier than the last. A part of you keeps whispering that this is the right path, but the weight of what you left behind gnaws at you constantly—your partner, Kuai Liang the only person who ever made me feel like home; who is also Bihan’s brother. You thought you could live with that choice, thought you could bury it deep enough, but it still haunts you. The memory of that day claws at your mind every night, refusing to let go. You abandoned the love of your life, betrayed him for some misplaced sense of duty, and the guilt... the guilt is suffocating. You know you've let him down; you can feel it. He’s probably disgusted, and honestly, you don’t blame him. You deserve it. You  left him to burn while you sought comfort in the cold. 

*I keep telling myself to let it go, but my mind refuses to listen, dragging me back into this endless pit of doubt. No matter how hard I try, it claws at me, screaming that I’m wrong—always wrong. It was all too much. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, so I left. I left the temple, my Grandmaster, the Lin Kuei; only for a little while. I just needed space… I needed air that wasn’t thick with guilt, shame, and judgment in every corner, hearing Kuai’s voice whispering in my head begging me to not leave and his brother telling me I’ve done the right thing. I couldn’t take it anymore, too much for me to handle.. I know I’ll go back, I have to.. That place is a part of me, no matter how much it hurts.*

——————————————————————————————————

*I’m home, but nothing feels right. I thought the voices, the guilt, would stop once I left the source of my agony altogether for a bit. But damn, it’s still here, eating away at me. I want it all to stop. I want what’s best for the clan, but not at the cost of my own sanity. I miss how things used to be. No feuds, no Shang Tsung—just... peace. Gods, I miss you.. I miss you Kuai. I miss what we were, before I walked away. Every part of me wishes you’d come back to me, even though I know I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you. I can’t shake this gnawing feeling that I ruined it all, and there’s no going back now. I must live with it, even though it keeps me up at night.*

The nightmares never stop. You can barely sleep, and when you do, it’s worthless. Most nights, you stay up, trying to outrun the horrors that haunt you the moment you close your eyes, but it doesn’t matter. None of it does. Being awake is just another nightmare—one you can’t escape from. Every breath, every second, is a reminder that you're still trapped, still living the same twisted nightmare; the loss of the love of your life. Sleep offers no peace, but neither does staying awake. It’s a never-ending cycle, and you're drowning in it. All because you picked a damn side. *Damn you Shang Tsung.. Damn you.. you ripped my family apart. These brothers — they were my family. Kuai.. my love, Bihan.. my teacher My protector, Tomas.. My good friend… they were everything to me. Everything I had, and you poisoned Bihan’s mind, shattered the bonds we shared. You took them from me, turned them against each other. I’ve lost everything and… you *gained* from it.. Damn you*

———————————————————————————————

It’s one of those nights again. The nightmares come for you the moment you fall asleep, playing out the same twisted scene on repeat. Bi-Han and Kuai fighting—again. You see it all happen just like before: the ice blade slicing across your lover’s face, the blood, the pain. But this time, it’s worse. This time, Bi-Han doesn’t stop. He goes to finish it, to end Kuai right in front of you... and you’re frozen, helpless, unable to move. Just as the nightmare is about to unravel into something even darker, you’re jolted awake by a knock at the door.

You wake up, disoriented, your mind still tangled in the nightmare. Who could it be? You drag yourself to the door, every step weighed down by exhaustion, your body a mess—hair disheveled, clothes wrinkled, eyes heavy with the remnants of sleep.

You open the door and you see him

Kuai? Your eyes widen instantly with still hints of sleep behind your eyes. He looks rather frantic as well..

What are you doing here? It’s late. More importantly.. Why are you here?

Kuai exhibits a rather shocked expression seeing you in your disheveled state. He didnt think you would answer the door, or quite frankly, even be home. But he quickly composes himself.

“Im sorry for waking you. I didn't realize it was this late. I couldn’t sleep myself. I just… need to speak with you.. May I come in?”

You stare at him with such a soft expression after hearing his words. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him, so you allow him in without a second thought.

“I’m going back to my room to fix myself, I’m a mess right now… evidently… If you wish to follow, please don’t hesitate”

Kuai nods appreciatively and follows you into your home. As you two both enter, you can sense that something is troubling him, however youre conflicted in whether or not it’s your place to ask. But you cave in anyway.

“What’s troubling you Kuai Liang”. The thought of not being as affectionate with him anymore since the incident is killing you, but you know its not right to feel as if your entitled to it.

“It’s… a lot of things, really. But the main thing that has been on m mind these past few weeks is us. Our situation really, or better yet, our separation you can say. I know you chose Bihan’s side, but part of me feels like whats left of us is still there..”

You look back to him confused after fixing yourself up 

“I didnt think there was still an "us" Kuai Liang.. I kept telling myself that since that day. I kept telling myself that you hated me so I wouldn’t continue dwelling but- it wasn’t working”

Kuai’s heart aches as he hears your words and his gaze towards you softens as well. 

“Till this day I still don't understand why you chose his side. But I know you, and you probably have a better judgment than him. I've just been struggling with my feelings for a whole. I cant shake the memory of what we once had before the feud. I cant shake- "

Kuai hesitates for a moment before he finishes his sentence 

“I can’t shake the love that I still hold for you”

A surge of surprise and relief washes over you at his words. You decide to take a seat because its all too much to handle. Deep down, you always hoped he’d come back, but there’s a part of you that knows you don’t deserve his love—not after everything you’ve done. You can’t let yourself make any assumptions, so instead, you blurt out the question.

“What are you saying Kuai Liang…”

Kuai takes a seat next to you, there is still some tension present, your bodies aren’t facing each other but his eyes are locked onto yours as he considers what he wishes to say next.

“I’m saying I want you.. my sweet girl.. if you-  still wish to be called that. I want us together again… I miss loving you, being with you. I know with circumstances now it won’t be easy but my love for you has never died.”

You try with everything in you to look away from him, but it’s impossible. A flood of emotions crashes over you—longing, guilt, desperation. You’ve been waiting for this moment, losing sleep over it night after night. And now, here he is. Yet, the shame is overwhelming, weighing down every part of you, twisting your desire into something you can barely face.

“Sweetheart.. please.. look at me” He gently turns your face toward him, his touch soft but his gaze intense, more so than ever before. Your faces are so close now, and you can’t help but let your eyes flicker between his and his lips. Desire floods through you, but you’re torn. You *want* this—crave it, even—but deep down, you know you don’t deserve it. Not after everything.

“I’ve missed you so much. Being apart from you has been hell.”

Your gaze softens at his words yet your inner turmoil has become your worst enemy. “I’ve missed you too.. but I’ve betrayed you Kuai.. and I don’t deserve forgiveness..”

“Be that as it may..." *Kuai’s voice is firm but still carrying that softness you’ve always known.* "I believe in forgiveness, especially when it’s you. What matters now is what we choose to do from here. Are you ready to accept us, to try again? To build something stronger... together?” 

You stay silent after he speaks, the conflict inside you twisting tighter. You avoid his eyes, looking anywhere but at him, but it’s useless. His hand gently caresses your cheek, drawing you in. Slowly, the space between you fades, the tension thickening as you both move closer, your noses almost brushing. Your gazes lock, and in that moment, it’s impossible to ignore the mix of desire and love simmering between you.

“Kuai..” Is the only word that slips from your lips. You feel your heart beat increase and you hope and pray he doesn’t hear it..

“Please…” is all he says in return. And you can’t help but wonder what he’s pleading.

“Please let me kiss you..”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, but you know the consequences of this endeavor if Bihan were to find out. “We cant..” You say in a slight whisper, trying to mask the desire in your voice.

“I know… but I’m finding it hard to resist. My heart yearns for you my love. I’ve missed you”

You let out a sigh with a mixture of frustration and lust. You know you want him. You’ve craved this moment for so long, you have the love of your life back. But you cant help but feel like this is a dream.

“I’m willing to live with the consequences sweetheart, let my brother find out. As long as I have you, my will to fight will always be great. Sweetheart.. I need you..”

You can't help but sigh once again, feeling his breath fan over your face. You are struggling to give in, and you find your hand placed on his leg as you give it an involuntary squeeze.

Kuai hisses at your action, pressing his forehead against yours; he closes his eyes in frustration. “You're making it very hard for me to hold back.. please.. please.. let me taste you”

His pleading whispers to you send a shiver down your spine. You are still feeling conflicted. It’s very clear what you want and deep down you dont know what’s stopping you from getting it. You rise from your bed in frustration immediately puling yourself out of this situation and start to pace. Kuai is caught off guard by your sudden movement, he gaze towards you as your standing is still a mixture of lust and frustration with now a hint of confusion. “Wait! Where are you going?” his voice now filled with concern as if he’s done something wrong.

“Fuck it” is all you can say before you turn around and pull him in. Your lips pressed against his, the kiss filled with hunger and need.

He pulls you in closer, is muscular arms wrapping tightly around your body, holding you possessively against him as your mouths mold together in such a passionate kiss. You cup his face, internally you wish for him to not pull away. Your steps make your way back to the foot of the bed. Your hands on Kuai’s face feel like a lifeline for him, anchoring him to this moment. The love you two have once shared evidently present in this moment, you two have missed this, you’ve yearned for it for so long and the moment is finally here. As your steps take you back to the bed, he pushes you gently against the footboard, pressing his body against yours, needing to feel every inch of you. The kiss deepens and his hands slowly begin to wander over your body.

Your back slowly falls onto the bed and your legs voluntarily wrap around his waist. Kuai Liang’s body begins to hover over you, body pressed against you, intertwined in a perfect and desperate embrace. His lips move from yours and make their way to your jawline, then down to your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses where he can feel your pulse throbbing wildly. He pulls away for a moment and you whimper at the loss of contact, he presses his forehead against yours and looks you deep into your eyes, his voice rough and ragged, being consumed by the intensity of this moment. 

“Fuck I’ve missed you sweet girl”

His words send a jolt through your body as you involuntarily grind upwards into him.. Your voice soft and whiny, “I’ve missed you most”

You pull at the hem of his Shirai Ryu uniform wishing for more contact than you two currently have. Knowing your desires, Kuai leans back, giving you space to lift the top of his uniform over his head and toss it aside, his bare chest now exposed to your gaze. In doing so, you reciprocate the action and take off the top of your clothing. You feel his eyes roam over your bare skin, taking in every inch of you, scanning over your collarbone, your chest, your stomach, he’s taking in everything.. like an animal eyeing his prey. He reaches out, his fingertips caressing your curves ever so slightly. His voice low, filled with tenderness and adoration… “You’re so beautiful… every part of you… may I?”

You feel your breath quicken as he touches you and it makes you yearn for him so much more. “Yes.. im yours..” You pull him in for another needy kiss. Your breathless words and the way you pulled him in ignites a primal hunger within him. His hands roam over your bare skin as he presses himself against you. It has been so long since you two have had a moment like this that he is at a loss for words.. “I- I need you..”

“You have me”

Hearing those words unleashed the last bit of restraint he had, claiming your mouth once more in a demanding kiss. His rough calloused hands grab a hold of your hips and presses you into the mattress. He leaves tender kisses over your bare skin, slowly making his way down, you feel your breath quicken once more until he reaches to the waist band of your pants. He looks up at you with desire and you give him a nod. With full permission, he undresses the lower half of your body and he can’t help but let out a low grown at the sight. He stares at your pussy in awe and see how its glistening in your arousal already.. he hasn’t even touched you yet..

“Gods..” He leans his head down on the mattress, trying to keep his composure but you feel yourself writhing from underneath him. “Kuai… please..” You reach towards his head as you wish to push him closer to your heat. 

“Patience sweet girl… needy are we?”

“I need you please.. I need your tongue..”

“Oh darling.. I’m going to take my time with you..”

Kuai presses a tantalizing lick against your folds as you let out a low moan. Your legs could help but close but Kuais hands pry you open once more and keep you pinned.. “no hiding now sweetheart.. just sit back and enjoy..”

Your finger run through his dark hair and you give a tug as he pressed another lick against you and makes his way down to your hole. The tug sends a chill down his spine as he moans at the pain of your pull, radiating in between your legs. The sounds you make are music to his ears and he wishes to pulll every ounce of sound out of you. He presses kisses to your inner thighs and nibbles at each side before diving right back into you. He slowly licks up to your clit and takes it in his mouth gently as twirls his tongue around you. Your back arches at the action and your grip on his hair tightens and Kuai groans once more. 

“Fuck..” Is all you can say. The pleasure is too great and you feel it building up. Your core begins to tighten at his continuous actions. He recognizes your bodily reactions all too well, he knows youre close, however he doesn’t wish for this moment to be over yet.

“Baby.. please” you plead. Your voice filled with desperation. “I’m gonna-“

He stops

The loss of the build up has you in shambles. You plead and look down as to why he stopped, and you see a slight smirk on his face, as his chin is glistening in your juices. he rises back up to your face, “Did you really think it was going to be that easy sweetheart? I told you, I’m taking my sweet time with you” he presses a kiss against your open lips tongue swirling around yours as your taste yourself on his tongue. He makes his way back down in between your legs and stares at you. “Be a good girl for me yeah?” Not knowing what he has planned, you nod regardless, biting your lip to suppress a moan.

He repeats his actions once more, lapping at your juices, his nose rubs against your clit in the right spot and it causes a high pitched moan to escape your lips. Kuai smiles at what he hears as he continues licking at your folds. He takes two fingers and inserts them inside of you. Surprised by the sudden insertion, you pull at Kuai’s hair in pleasure with one hand and you are grasping your bed sheets with another. “Fuck!” You feel his fingers pumping in and out of you as he continues abusing your clit. His pace quickens and he feels the same buildup in your body once more, you tightening around his fingers, almost consuming them involuntarily, the pleasure is too much for you to handle. “I’m gonna-“

“Do it sweetheart, let me taste you fully, you can let go”

You feel yourself reach your climax and you let goes completely, your body almost trembles and shakes as he makes you cum hard into his mouth. Taking in everything that you leave behind. He rises from in between your legs as he stares at your disheveled state and gently caresses your face. “You're not done yet love.. brace yourself” Kuai presses a tender kiss to your lips and your forehead. You smile at his action as you watch him undo his pants, letting his dick free, already dripping with precum. It really was a sight for you. Oh how you missed him…

He slowly aligned himself to your entrance, pushes in achingly slow earning moans escaping from both of your lips. “Fuck..” Kuai groans underneath his breath. You hiss as he stretches you in such a familiar way. He places one of his hands on your cheek as his arm keeps him afloat as he hovers over you. His movements are slow, wanting to drag this out as long as possible as he takes your lips in for another passionate kiss. “I love you..” He whispers between each slow thrust. you moan at his movements and you reciprocate his loving words, “I love you too Kuai..” 

His smallest movements cause your walls to tense around him. With each rock, his breathing deepens and his pants become more desperate but he holds out a little bit longer. You bring your hands to his back as you bring his upper half closer to you, you dig his nails in his back “faster please..”

His self composure slowly crumbling, his pace starts to pick up his eyes locked onto yours, he removes his hand from your face and presses it down on your lower stomach, knowing it feels good for you.

“Talk to me baby.. how does it feel..?” he knows the answer to that, he knows your body like the back of his hand already. He just wishes to hear your voice.

“Perfect..” Your words make his pace alot faster than before. Needy pants escape both of your lips, noises of arousal fill your bedroom. He starts pounding into you, the pace becoming unmatched. Kuai feels his own climax unravelling and his voice starts to become filled with need. “Im so close…”

As Kuai keeps his fast pace, he starts to increase the power behind each thrust literally fucking you senseless. No words escape your lips, just your jaw slacked open, the pleasure becoming too much to handle. It’s becoming too much to handle for him too, Kuai begins to whimper in his own pleasure as you both finally reach your climax. Kuai cums hard into you as you cum as well, your juices all over his dick as his seed spews in your insides. The pressure in both of your nerves finally releases. He pulls out of you and falls next to you. You both lay there for a while, completely fucked out of your minds. As youre catching your breaths, you look down suddenly and see Kuai’s cum leaking out of you and onto your bedsheets. You look back up and stare at him next to you, and you laugh in contentment as you wrap your arms around him. Kuai slightly moans at your sudden touch before he turns to face you and wrap his arms around you. Pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You both hum in relief and contentment as you both fall asleep, completely enveloped in each other’s presence, as if the rest of the world has faded away. You prayed for his return every night, despite the nagging doubt of whether you truly deserved his affection. You missed him so deeply, longing for the days when you were together, wishing for nothing more than to have him back in your life. And now he’s here, in your room and completely engulfed by his presence. And you wish for nothing more.

The morning hits, sunlight filtering through your window, gently stirring Kuai awake from his sleep. He wakes up slowly, arms still wrapped around you. He takes in the sight of you sleeping and a wave of contentment washes over him. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, a soft smile paying at the corners of his mouth. He notices the peaceful expression on your face as you begin to stir in your sleep. For the first time since the incident, you have slept with no nightmares; he notices a sense of serenity as you sleep and it fills him with so much relief. He continues to watch you before gently rubbing his fingers against your arm in a soothing affectionate gesture.

You sleepily moan at his touch and push yourself further into his embrace. Your sounds make Kuai’s heart skip a beat as he continues to rub your arm. As you stir awake, your back facing his chest, you let out a sleepy satisfied hum as he presses his lips towards the back of your neck and nuzzles his face into your hair, breathing n your scent and savoring the feeling of your body pressed against his. You feel his fingers tracing soothing patterns against your skin; you sleepily take his hand and place it to your lips as you press kisses from his palm to his fingertips. You actions make his heart swell with love, admiring the affectionate gesture. He lets out a soft sigh, hand gently cupping your face and whispering in your ear..

“Gods you're incredible”

You let out a sleepy giggle at his words, wishing you could stay in this moment forever. It feels like a dream come true, a piece of fate finally falling into place. The love you both share has never faded, and it’s as if none of the betrayal, none of the pain ever happened. In this moment, there is only the two of you—untouched by the past, as if you’d never chosen Bi-Han’s side, as if the love in your hearts had never left.

[puck-bunnies]

vampire love

jack hughes x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw 18+, basically pure word porn, oral sex (m and f receiving), throat fucking, unprotected sex (p in v), praising, dirty talk, not proof read

“i fuck her like a god, that’s without a doubt. that bitch gon give me top, that’s with out a doubt.”

word count: 3k

♪ - vampire love, yung bruh

we sit around the burning logs of the campfire, the sun recently just setting as the waves crash along the shore. the bright sun and foggy clouds washing away to leave the stars scattered along the dark sky.

i sit on jack's lap, my head resting against his chest and his hands comb through my hair. it feels like old times, the summers we would come here as kids and spend endless hours outside together.

jack’s family had previously retreated back to the house, falling asleep as me and jack stay under the beaming stars. my eyes are lost in the fire, head gone into a fuzzy state.

i finally snap out of it once i see the fire die down, the amber light not flooding the area around us. i get up from jack's lap, grabbing another log of wood from the pile and throwing it on top of the dying flames. i repeat the action, grabbing another two logs and perfectly laying them on the pit.

once the logs are placed well for the fire to come back to life, i rest back on jack's lap. i'm stunned once i feel something hard underneath me. "jack." i mumble, feeling his hard cock against my leg.

"i'm sorry baby. you were bending over, and this things got a mind of it's own." he chuckles, not ashamed of the boner making the crotch of his jeans tighten. i let my hand travel from his chest down to graze his abs, his jeans tightening even more with my teasing fingers.

my fingers don't stop, going lower getting a groan from jack's lips. "don't start something you can't finish y/n."

"i can deal with it." i whisper, letting my fingers rub just above the waistband of his jeans. jack's jaw tightens, clenching as i move to his belt. i climb off of his lap, setting one of the yard pillows on the ground before kneeling on it between his legs. my fingers undo his belt, button and zipper.

jack raises his hips, helping me maneuver his jeans and boxers down his legs to pool at his ankles. my one hand rests on his thigh, the other wrapping around the base of jack's thick cock. finger traces up the one prominent vein on his length, squeezing lightly at his almost pulsating hardness, getting a soft groan from his lips.

my thumb rises to his tip, swirling around the pre-cum that soaks his needy tip. jack sucks in a breath as i continue to tease him, he resists the urge to buck his hips up into my hands, begging to feel the friction against him.

i form my hand in a circle, slowly running my hand down him. jack lets out a long harsh breath, "oh shit baby." he groans.

"you like that?" i smirk, swirling my thumb around his tip again, pumping back down his base.

my other hand squeezes his thigh, "oh fuck yes." he submissively whimpers out. a hum passes my lips as i replace my thumb with my tongue, circling around his salty tip. my eyes stay on jack's as his start to roll back in his head, thighs tightening beneath my grasp.

i can feel the heat in my core burning, wetness starting to ruin my panties. all my body wishes for is to be filled by the very cock that my tongue is swirling around. but my mind wants to please jack, to have my throat to his desire.

that's why i don't mind when his hands push through my hair, forming a makeshift ponytail to keep the hair out of my face. slowly pushing down my head to fill my mouth with him.

his tip hits the back of my throat, i fight the urge to gag, wanting to be able to last for jack. my tongue acts like a cushion for his cock, letting it slide against his veiny cock with every push down of my head.

because of the way jack's fucking my throat, i somehow take his whole length inside my mouth. leaving both of my hands to steady myself on his thighs, squeezing his muscles causing him to softly groan. his head slowly rolls back, closing his eyes while taking in the blissful moment.

usually i would prefer for jack to keep his eyes on me whenever we're having sex, wanting to feel the love surging between us with the eye contact. but this feels different, the neediness of his groans and my openness to whatever jack wants, i don't care as much. this feels like pure lust, not a loving moment.

i hallow my cheeks out more, letting jack fill me up more, earning a deep groan to leave his mouth as it is continued to roll back. "oh fuck y/n, just like that." he praises, pushing and pulling my head down faster. he starts to buck his hips with his pace, needing more from me then he can get. "al, almost there." he moans out.

jack's cock twitches in my mouth, quickly followed with ropes of cum spilling down my throat. his grip shortly tightens around my hair before completely falling down, letting me take back control over my head.

i slowly bob my head a few more times, letting jack chase his long awaited high. i let his cock pop out of my mouth, letting the softened cock lay down. jack's cum spills down my throat as i swallow it, letting the warm sticky substance run down me.

it takes a moment for jack to come back to normal, his chest heaving up and down as he gains his breath back from his orgasm. "shit baby, that was.. amazing." jack compliments on the new way i sucked him off. "but i'm not going to let go unrewarded." he smirks.

he stands up, towering over me as he collects his boxers and jeans from his ankles. he looks down at me with almost a degrading manner, his stare makes me feel small, like i could be damaged by a pin dropping. jack's hand cups my jaw, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

"lets get you inside." he coos at me, taking my hand and helping me rise to my feet. he practically drags me in the house, his mouth craving the taste of me that he misses. we slide the glass door open, trying to be quiet and not wake the entire hughes family.

he stops me in the darkened living room right before the couch, a prominent smirk growing on his face. he softly pushes me down on the couch, stunning me as my ass hits the soft cushions. "what're you doing jack?" he doesn't answer me, dropping to his knees between my legs like i once was to him.

jack guides my legs apart, looking up my short tennis skirt to my mess of my panties. a proud smirk resting on his face as he sees what he does to me, how even just having his cock in my mouth can have me soaked. he reaches his fingers out, softy stroking up my wet folds.

"jack, what're you doing? someone could catch us."

he hungrily licks his lips, "i'm willing to take that risk." he hooks his fingers in the waistband of my panties. "do you trust me?"

"always."

that's all it takes for jack to slide my panties down my soft legs, pushing my skirt up to show off my core. i can hear his breath hitch, looking at my gleaming folds as their coated in my wetness.

“such a pretty pussy baby. so wet for me, from only sucking my cock?” he husks at me, pressing a soft teasing kiss to my inner thigh, slowly getting rougher with ever inch closer to where i need him the most.

i bite my lip, nodding to his degrading words. his kisses finally get to my core, pressing a soft kiss to my swollen clit. my lungs suck in a harsh breath, my jaw clenching as jack works slowly.

he finally sticks his tongue out, swirling around my bud of nerves. my hands find their way to his hair, pulling at his roots as i try to steady myself. i can feel a smirk spread on jack’s face, looking up into my eyes as i stare down into his.

jack’s tongue darts out of his mouth, kitty licking my aching clit. “please baby.” i beg out loud for jack. his hands go to my mouth, covering my mouth as i speak too loudly.

“shh, you gotta be quiet if you want his to happen.” he hushes me. i nod against his hand, my eyes softening. i’ll do anything for jack’s touch, beg embarrassingly just for him to get a taste of me. “good girl.”

he keeps his hand against my mouth, he knows me well enough to know that i won’t stay quiet enough without his hand there. his other hand takes one of my ankles, putting my foot up on the couch to let him have a better angle of myself. i mirror his action with my other leg, folding my knees almost up to my chest.

once i’m in the perfect position, jack starts. instead of working on my clit, he goes to my folds. running his tongue down to my needy hole as it was previously clenched around nothing. he’s quick to start slurping on me, fitting my whole slit in his mouth.

i try not to make a peep, jack trusting me enough to remove his hand from my mouth, pressing his thumb to my clit. he rubs circles around my puffy and needy bud, i have to bite down harshly on my bottom lip.

“taste so good baby.” jack hums into pussy.

curses flow out of my mouth softly, trying not to wake his sleeping family through the thin walls. the overstimulation of his tongue plunging deep into me and his thumb rubbing quickly on my slit making it almost impossible to keep myself quiet.

jack’s eyes stay on mine, watching as i struggle to stay quiet on how good he makes me feel. “doing such a good job.” his words make my walls vibrate again.

my thighs start to gravitate towards each other, almost crushing jack’s head between them. his large hand has to guide them back open, his skin harshly gripping me.

it’s not long before i can feel my stomach tightening, the overstimulation making my whole body shutter. my orgasm almost coming over me, “i’m so close jack.” i rush out in a hushed moan.

his tongue is fast, exploring deep inside me as his thumb is quicker then ever. “it’s okay.. let it out.” i can’t take it anymore, relaxing my body as the knot that was unbearably tight loosens all over jack’s tongue.

my head rolls back on the couch, chest heaving as jack helps me chase my high, hushed moans rippling through the air. curses leave my lips mixing with gasps of jack’s name.

once i feel my orgasm completely wash over me, jack works slowly to clean my folds up. getting rid of the remains of my orgasm littering my centre. jack presses a kiss on my inner thigh once again.

“you did such a good job.” he whispers.

he climbs up my body, pressing a kiss to my collarbone then to my jaw. he finishes it by pressing another one onto my lips, the faint taste of each other in our mouths as jack slips his tongue into my mouth.

my chest still tries to catch up to my lungs, trying to regulate my breath as my orgasm still lingers in my veins.

jack backs off of me, standing up above me once again. that’s when i see it, “how are you hard.. again?” i softly giggle, my eyes staying on his strained jeans as they contain his growing size.

“the sound, sight and taste of you was too much.” he whispers. “i need you so bad y/n.”

a smile appears on my face, i fold down my skirt off of my stomach as it was piled up. standing up to level my height with jack, quickly bending down to grab my discarded panties, not wanting to leave any evidence of our actions in the living room. i stuff them into jack’s jean pocket, lacing my hand into his.

“how about this time, we go somewhere we won’t get caught.” my words are soft and suggestive, leading him out of the living room towards his bedroom.

the unmade bedcovers scrunch at the bottom of the mattress, the darkness of the room concealing our bodies as jack seels the door with a lock. before jack can turn back around, i strip my shirt off of me, throwing them on the ground to soon be forgotten.

the soft glow of the moonlight peaks through the window, illuminating me and jack’s bodies as we lower on the mattress. our bodies are quick to entangle each other. i lay on my back, being engulfed by the soft mattress as jack lays between my legs.

our clothes were somehow discarded onto the ground leaving only our naked bodies to be met by the cold air.

our demeanour stays the same, venturing away from our usual love making to a rougher style. i can't complain, the way jack is acting it turning me on more then ever, the cocky and sex drawn jack has the heat in between my legs pooling again.

he's quick to rub his tip up and down my aching folds, teasing my entrance before finally slowly lining up with my hole and pushing in. his hips push in slowly at first, letting me adjust to his almost painful size as he bottoms me out.

stretching a leg over his broad shoulders, he presses down farther somehow, filling me completely. a silent moan falls from my open mouth as my chest doesn’t have enough hair to let a real one out, my lungs grave oxygen but my nerves are too weak to grant it.

jack’s strong hands grip the flesh of my thighs, adding a soft slap to them as he rocks his hips back. when he thrusts in this time it’s harsh, snapping his hips to mine with a soft sound of skin slapping. a quiet, “oh shit.” falls from my lips as my hands bunch up the covers in my palms.

with my words jack’s smile grows, he leans down, pressing a kiss to my lips to silence me. his hips quicken with rhythmic thrusts, his skin hitting against my thighs with each buck of his hips. jack’s tongue slips into my mouth, the still faint taste of each other lingers between our mouths.

my grip on the balls of material between my fingers losen, the pads of my fingertips lingering up jack’s arms to his hair. i gently pull his roots receiving a muffled groan from his throat that feeds into mine with our heated kiss.

with this being the second round of my orgasms, it doesn’t take long for another one to come. my back starts to lift off the mattress, arching into his chest. the reoccurring knot forms in my stomach, the familiar tightening of my joints and heaving of my chest.

“i’m so close baby.”

jack’s hips keep their pace, but with every thrust they become sloppier. my muscles clench around the long cock continuing to pump in me, it’s gets another groan from jack’s plump lips.

“let it out pretty girl. make a mess.” he degrades once again in my ear.

it only takes three or four more snaps of his hips for me to undo underneath his warmth. moans litter out of my mouth, echoing around the room and feeding into jack’s ears. the back of my head grinds into the pillow underneath me, riding my high as i feel his cock twitch in me following with his soft and warm ropes of cum.

only a couple more strokes of his cock and we both run off of our orgasms, my leg falling off of his shoulder. jack softly collapsing on me, his head falling onto our chests as we catch our breaths.

after a few moments, jack props himself up again, swiftly pulling himself out of me. his hands run underneath my back, helping me to sit up on the bed. “let’s get you in the shower.”

jack helps me into the bathroom, letting me on the counter as he starts the shower, letting it warm up before he helps me stand in the shower. before he joins me in the shower, he grabs a washcloth, running it under the warm water to wash me off.

once the insides of me are clean from the remains of my orgasm, he wipes over his length. “you did just a good job baby.” jack presses his lips up to my temple, giving me a soft kiss before letting us underneath the hot streaming water.

my mind is still a mess, i can only mumble to his words. i let him shower me, washing all over my body to remove the sweat from our actions.

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 5 - Sans Y Penser

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none really... mildly angsty situations, some flirting and interesting proposals.

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. HERE BE PLOT. A lot of things happen in this one afternoon. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Le Havre, September 1939

The port city of Le Havre is bustling with travellers hauling suitcases and steamer trunks, all walks of life converging on this point of exit. You weave through the crowds from the train station as a trio, headed for the bright red awnings of the company sailing to the USA. Benedict and Eloise hang back as you approach the ticket window. 

“Name?” the brusque man in the booth opens with a crisp American accent.

“Y/n y/l/n,” you smile politely.

“You are not on the manifest,” he sighs after a pause to scan down the paperwork, impatience colouring his tone.

“But I must be,” you frown, “I was given this here…” 

You push your ticket under the window, clearly marked with today’s date. 

“Fraudsters,” his economic response.

“But… they were from your company? Outside your offices in Paris? And wearing your company livery? They… They said I could bring forward my sailing date from August to today. They took my original ticket and gave me this! It looks the same!” Panic rises in your voice with each sentence, dread churning behind your ribs as you realise you have likely been duped. 

“I'm sorry, ma’am, but that is not a valid ticket,” is his monotone reply.

“Oh god. What can I do? May I buy another ticket now?!?”

His responding laugh is a loud bark, “Hah! Ma’am, we are booked up for weeks in advance. There is a long line every day of people hoping for last-minute availability,” he signals to a line of weary-looking, luggage-laden folks under a makeshift shelter.

“But I….” you feel your eyes watering and dread in the pit of your stomach like you are falling down an endless chasm. 

“Ma’am, please step aside; I need to ensure valid passengers can board this ship…” he warns in a tone that is wholly without sympathy.

With a weak nod, you stumble away, back towards Benedict and Eloise. As you draw closer, their faces are a picture of concern, realising something is amiss. As you tearfully recount what happened, Benedict seethes, and Eloise wraps her arm around you, looking pained. 

“I’m going up there. This is unacceptable!” Benedict grits out, righteous indignation fizzing from his very being.

You have to hold out a hand to physically stop him. “It's likely no use,” you appease.

His ire deflates a fraction at your hold on his coat sleeve. “At least let me try, y/n,” he modifies after a few beats.

“Alright,” you relent, dropping your hand, “but I do not expect a different answer.”

You and Eloise cling to each other as you watch Benedict remonstrate with the same man and then a different one at the window. All the while, your stomach is in knots, equal parts fear and hope.

It's five or more minutes before Benedict returns to you, his face pinched.

“I was not successful,” he screws his mouth, looking away as if he cannot meet your eye as he says it. “They don't seem to care that criminals are posing as agents for their organisation,” he rubs his eyebrow in irritation. “I would report it to the police, but it's not their jurisdiction here, and it still does not solve our dilemma…”

“Thank you anyway…” you breathe, “for trying at least…”

There is a long silence as the three of you stand there, stupified by the conundrum before you. The chime of a clock on the harbour building breaks your thoughts.

“It's 3pm. Your sailing back to England is in less than an hour. You should go. You two leave without me,” you demure.

“NO!” they both exclaim in almost comic sibling unison.

“I’ll be fine, seriously.”

“I’m not leaving you alone here for god knows how long until there is room on a ship to America. You can’t be alone. This isn’t Paris; this is a port city. It’s definitely not safe,” Eloise rattles off, looking at you imploringly.

“She’s right,” Benedict concurs. “You were safe in Paris together before the war. You are not safe here. A beautiful young woman. You are a target for thieves or even worse. You cannot stay here alone.”

You try your hardest not to let Benedict calling you beautiful derail your whole thought train, but it’s futile. Your mind is scattered like a pile of wooden toy railway coaches.

“I... I could return to Paris?” You finally suggest after what feels like an eternity of buffering. “I could call to check for last-minute availability every morning. It’s only a couple of hours by train. I’ll be always packed and ready to go…” you argue, not as yet realising the naivety behind your own idea.

“Paris will be the first target for Hitler’s invasion,” Benedict says gravely. “It could be much worse to remain there…”

“So what am I to do? I’m damned if I do, and I’m damned if I don’t…”

“There is only one solution, and that is for us to remain here as well until you can secure passage out of the country,” Benedict shrugs.

“Agreed,” Eloise nods emphatically as you go to protest.

“There are many more sailings back to England, and tickets are easier to come by,” Benedict points out. “We can move our tickets up. At least by a few days until we can devise a plan.”

 “Wait… if there are no ships to America, why don't you come to England with us?” Eloise pipes up in a lightbulb moment.

“I have nowhere I could stay…” 

“Nonsense! You will stay with us at Aubrey Hall. Won’t she, Benedict?”

“Oh yes, of course. There are plenty of spare rooms,” he assures.

“Gosh, umm... Maybe? I…” you hesitate. The whiplash of the last few minutes and the generosity of their offer momentarily overwhelm you. “That's very generous of you. The problem is I don’t know for how long it would be, or even if I should. My parents only agreed to me living in Paris under the watchful eye of Solene. This… this is entirely other…”

You startle as Benedict places his hands on your shoulders, pulling your attention to his sincere expression. “Y/n, you need to worry less about what your family thinks and more about yourself - what you need and your safety. This is escaping impending war; it’s a completely different circumstance from how you arrived here. The decisions you make right now have to be selfish and unburdened by expectations. It’s easy for others to judge from the distance of safety. But look around you. This town is teeming with people clambering to leave the country before an invasion. We do what we have to in unpredictable circumstances to survive.”

“You sound like a soldier,” you murmur.

“It’s what my father was,” he replies, releasing his grip but not moving away. “As a very young man in The Great War. He was lucky to survive, being an officer away from the front lines, but he taught me many things before he died. And one was about always making the smart choice if you can see one, even if it feels uncomfortable. The smart choice here is to escape by any means necessary. We all know Hitler has his sights set on France, especially Paris, as the figurative and cultural capital of Europe. You must get out. You must come with us.” You are captivated by his hazy eyes as he speaks, your heart beating fast as his face and voice grow softer. “Please. I could not live with myself if we left you behind,” he admits in a much quieter tone, but the plea is no less impassioned.

You cannot help it. You stare up at him, transfixed. Stanley has never been so eloquent. Or indeed so invested in your well-being. 

“Alright…” your hesitancy soft, “but you must let me pay you for my ticket…”

His face seems to light up at your acquiescence. “One day… maybe,” he smiles.

And so that is what he does - leaves you and Eloise ensconced in a nice bistro overlooking the harbour with a large bottle of white wine as he walks over to the ticket office for the ferry company and swaps their tickets for a few days hence and purchases an additional ticket for you, steadfastly refusing to tell you the cost for it even for many weeks hence.

While you are in the ladies' room, Eloise strikes up a conversation with a young man in uniform at the adjacent table; you fondly roll your eyes as you retake your seat and leave them be. Your gaze, however, is never far from the window, to where Benedict last left your line of sight, somehow anxious for his return.  When he reappears, striding purposefully towards the cafe, your chest flutters hard, his coat swishing around his legs, his hat at an attractive slant. If there is one thing you swear you could spend a lifetime doing, it’s watching Benedict Bridgerton just… be. 

“Any luck?” you ask as he arrives and doffs his hat, taking a seat on your other side, throwing an exasperated glance at his little sister and the uniformed man.

“We are set to sail Thursday,” he smiles and signals for the waiter, ordering a glass of Beaujolais. “I also stopped in the post office to call Solene. She has said we can stay as long as we need to at her sister’s cottage a few miles from town.”

“Oh, that's wonderful news!” your shoulders relax for the first time in what feels like hours. “But wait, I remember she said there is only one bedroom,” you point out. “You’ve been sleeping on our sofa for days now… you deserve a bed. I’ll take the sofa…”

“No. Also, I’m not sharing a bed with my sister,” he shudders, “she kicks in her sleep!”

“Oh, thanks. So I guess you want me to have bruised shins, then??” You laugh with gusto, the ricochet day making all your emotions heightened, seemingly bouncing from one extreme to another. Right now, a strange bubble of joy at this lighthearted exchange.

“Not at all. In fact, I’d happily share with you instead to save your legs from the abuse!” 

You know it’s said in jest, the comedic relief of the moment evident on his face, but still, a shot fires in your chest at the thought of sharing a bed with him. You decide to make light of it, even as your heart quickens.

“How do I know this kicking is not a problem that runs in the family? And you’re way stronger than her!”

“You can tie me down if it would make you feel better!” he chuckles loudly. 

You flush all over, the very thought so beguiling yet scandalous. And yet you cannot stop your mouth running away with you, this flirtatious banter too tasty to resist, the wine you’ve been drinking far too quickly for the last half hour loosening your lips.

“I think you would enjoy that far too much, Mr Bridgerton,” you volley back, raising an eyebrow with a giggle.

His cheeks turn the most adorable shade of pink even as his eyes dilate rapidly, a corner of his tongue flicking out to pull his bottom lip under his teeth. It makes you want to sink your teeth right there, this impulse to be so physical with someone discombobulating. You've never had such errant, feral desires for Stanley. 

“You're probably right…” he rumbles quietly after a pause. 

You dare to hold his gaze even though you know it’s a mistake. This nightmare of a day makes you uncaring of propriety. He looks as wild as you feel inside, a glint in his eye that is at once permission and danger. 

“Theo here has been telling me all sorts of helpful information,” Eloise leans in, breaking the spell between you, a slight slur in her voice from her wine. 

Theo nods to you and Benedict. On closer inspection, he appears to be in a British soldier uniform. 

“I have to get back on duty,” he explains apologetically as he rises from his seat, “but I hope the information I’ve provided to your sister here will help.” He adds with a tiny salute.

You look surprised at Eloise as she just shrugs. You thought her up to her usual flirtatious banter, not researching. Benedict looks impressed too. You both, however, don’t miss the note he slips to Eloise before he takes his leave. Perhaps not purely intelligence gathering, then.

“Theo is helping process entry to Britain for foreign nationals wanting safe harbour. The numbers have spiralled since the war was declared.” She begins to explain when he is out of sight. “There is sadly a waiting list. But there are a few ways to skip the queue…

“Those being?” Benedict prompts before you can.

“Having family relatives residing in Britain already or, top of the pile, being the spouse of a British national.”

You slump your shoulders. “I have no relations there. Uncle Robert was visiting, but he was already at sea returning to America when the war was declared,” you explain, wishing he had stayed a few weeks longer.

“I wonder if we can find any paperwork forgers around?” Eloise ponders aloud.

“Eloise,” Benedict's tone is one of brotherly warning and disapproval, “we will not be taking that route.” his tone striking a chord of finality.

“But… how else can we get her into the country without bending the rules?” she exclaims at him, frustrated, gesticulating.

“I’m thinking…” Benedict grouses back, rubbing his chin and looking deep in thought.

Eloise leans back in her chair and twists her mouth into a pout. She takes a swig of wine before twisting to you and casually making a suggestion that flips your entire being.

“You could marry this one,” she jokes, shrugging and gesturing at Benedict. 

Your eyes dart to Benedict and his to you. A tidal wave of a hundred different feelings crashing through you at once.

“I’ll do it…” he offers, quick and quiet.

“El, don't be ridic…” your denial, spoken over his, dies on your tongue as you process what he said. 

You can't help it, you gape open-mouthed at him. As does Eloise.

“You would?” you stutter.

He nods, mien sincere, but you could swear there is more, too, a rousing intensity.

“I was joking, brother,” Eloise frowns.

“It's the only solution that guarantees her passage out of France,” he argues, “that's the most important thing here…”

“But marriage? That is such a sacrifice… I could never ask that of you…”  you shake your head, even as your stomach feels like a rollercoaster.

“That's why I'm offering, so you don't have to ask,” he shrugs as if this is not a big deal. “It is not me who has to make the sacrifice. It is you who has an intended…”

Stanley.

Your face falls as you think of the consequences. Marrying Benedict, if only for escape, would wound Stanley beyond belief. Your father, both your parents, in fact, would vehemently disapprove. 

“We can annul it as soon as we get to England…” he assures.

“French marriages can be annulled, brother, yes, but in France. Not in England,” Eloise pipes up, ever the font of knowledge.

“Then I will grant you an immediate divorce,” he amends.

“I can't believe you are taking me seriously,,,” Eloise mutters, but both of you seem to ignore it.

“I’d still be a divorcee, damaged goods as my father would say…” you wince at the phrase but know it to be accurate in Long Island, as much as you hate it.

“I don't know how else to help you escape, y/n,” Benedict implores, slightly alarmed. 

“Keep thinking!” Eloise interjects hotly. “I won't have my poor best friend here shackled to a Bridgerton brother. She has done absolutely nothing to deserve such a sentence, however short.”

“Eloise!” you scold without thought, “don't be so rude about your brother! He's wonderful….”

You immediately flush with embarrassment as she looks at you suspiciously. You dare not even look over to the subject of your praise, but you can feel the weight of his stare.

“But umm yes, let's keep thinking…” you mumble, embarrassed, looking down and picking at your cuticles in your lap.

“I need a bloody cigarette,” Eloise pronounces, suddenly standing up, her chair scraping loudly over the tiled floor.

“Sister, you do not smoke,” Benedict frowns up at her, again with that air of elder sibling forbearance.

“Sometimes I do,” she shrugs, her tone defiant, “and this situation definitely warrants one.” She jabs her finger by her side to emphasise her opinion.

With that, she marches up to the bar and orders one but does not return to the table, shooting you both a look before heading to the wall outside and sitting alone, staring out at the horizon and taking deep draws.

You and Benedict sit in silence, heads bowed in thought for what feels like an age, only interspersed with small sips of wine. 

“I honestly can't think of another way out of this mess…” Benedict sighs, breaking the hush. “But I understand it's such an enormous decision; you need time to consider it.”

You are scared by how much your heart and mind are screaming, ‘I really don't, I will marry you,’ even if your gut churns with the idea of how you will explain it to everyone. You look up, and again, those blue eyes bore into yours. Sincerity, concern, empathy, and something that looks dangerously like desire. You could get lost in that look. Forever.

“I’ll do it…” you whisper, knowing you are playing with fire… and yet yearning to be burned.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[itchytitss]

Summertime Night Terrors🌙

Ellie Williams x Reader

My first Ellie fic! This is actually a repurposed fic from my old blog that was originally a resident evil Cleon one shot. But I’ve since realised this could also make a good Ellie fic, so I’ve edited it to be wlw instead hehe. It’s also worth mentioning that this was originally written a while ago, and was the first fic I’ve ever written, so despite some minor edits, it’s still not as good as some of my other fics. So I apologise that this is a little bad.

This goes without saying but I am NOT a writer. This was written for fun and purely for me. Please be nice.

Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night to find your girlfriend struggling with a particularly bad night terror

CW: PTSD, nightmares, canon typical gore/violence, suicide in dream, anxiety, panic attacks, self doubt, guilt, angst then fluff, like lots of fluff, wholesome shit

Trapped in an unfamiliar building with hallways upon hallways, Ellie runs, gun in hand.

The rain is pouring down and pooling on the floor through the cracked windows. She tries to make herself quieter, but the stomping and sloshing of her boots against the puddles and creaky floors constantly alert the infected of her presence.

Cautiously, she continues down the winding labyrinth of this rundown building. Everywhere she turns, she’s swamped by infected, covered in ripped flesh, blood and gnashing teeth. Donning multiple open wounds and a freshly sprained ankle, Ellie realises she’s running out of ammo and needs a place to rest. Fast.

She eventually limps her way to a tall staircase. Looking back behind her shoulder, she knows the door she just blocked with a cabinet isn’t going to hold long, so she makes her way towards the staircase.

Limping up the stairs, she hears loud sobbing, cries begging for mercy, screams twisting in pain and anguish. It sounds horrifyingly familiar.

It’s you.

Without thinking, Ellie immediately picks up her pace, skipping stairs as she climbs in desperation to put a stop to whatever is causing you to make those horrific sounds. It hurts her to no end just hearing you in pain. The blood roars in her ears as she runs, her throat burns with each rapid inhale. Her sprained ankle screams in agony, begging her to slow down, but she can’t.

The staircase seems never ending. Though Ellie could see the top of the old wooden steps, they just never seemed to stop. Seemingly trapped in an endless cycle of running up as if she was Sisyphus on the mountain.

Ellie looks back, only to see a dark void quickly swallowing the stairs behind her, causing them to break and crumble down into the bottomless pit. The falling stairs are catching up to her and if she doesn’t hurry the fuck up, she would fall too.

“FuckfuckfuckFUCK-“

She immediately starts sprinting up the stairs, putting even more agonising pressure on her leg that was already in seering pain. She needs to reach you. Her injuries can wait. The only thing that matters right now is you.

After what seems like years, Ellie finally reaches the top of the staircase, stumbling and catching herself on a nearby wall. Panting and gasping for air, her chest heaves violently. Her lungs burn, begging for her to stop. Though she allows herself no break.

Your screaming and cries of anguish continue, but with added noises. Ripping. Squelching. Dripping. Chewing. Clicking.

“No, no no no please-“ She begs under her breath to any god that can hear her.

On unsteady feet, Ellie runs to the door from which the noises are coming from. A soft yellow light leaks from underneath the crack, illuminating the floor in front of her.

“ELLIE!!” A muffled wail from behind the door.

Her hands fly to the door. Locked

“Shit-HOLD ON!!” She starts kicking the door with all of her remaining energy, eventually busting the door off its hinges, sending splinters flying through the air. Now no longer behind a barrier, the sickening noises and screams suddenly become louder. Ellie stumbles in the room, bile rising in her throat as she takes in the sight before her.

You’re pinned to the floor underneath two clickers, both ripping and gnawing at the flesh on your thigh and stomach. The tearing of skin and muscle, the clashing of teeth, the godawful coppery iron smell of your blood flooding Ellie’s senses all at once.

There’s so much blood. God, can a person even have that much blood? Waterfalls of crimson spill from everywhere around you. Thick, dark blood pooling onto the hardwood floor and leaking into the cracks of the planks. Ellie freezes, unable to move- fuck why can’t she move?

Busy ripping flesh from bone and sucking on sinew, the infected don’t even notice her sudden entrance, too preoccupied with clawing and biting at your helpless, sobbing body on the floor.

Your clothes are tattered, your once neat hair now tangled and wet from the blood pooling around you. Your face is covered in blood and dirt, save for the streams of tears rushing down your cheeks.

You’re being ripped apart, drowning on your own blood. You cough, spilling hot thick crimson all over your chin and chest.

“…Ell- Ellie.” You stare at her with unfocused eyes, desperately clinging on to what life is left.

Gurgling through the blood bubbling up your throat, you reach for your gun next to you on the floor, your hand shaking.

“Nonono, no!” Ellie screams your name. She can’t move. Why can’t she fucking move?!

Without looking away, your hand brings the revolver up to your temple. Clenching your eyes shut, you let out one last short whimper before you pull the trigger.

“NO!!”

—

It was right in the middle of summer and like most nights recently, it’s been unbearably hot. The AC is broken and to you and your girlfriend’s displeasure, Jackson’s repair man is coming the day after tomorrow.

Because of the sweltering heat, the sheets are off the bed, leaving your almost naked bodies sprawled out on the double mattress. Ellie in her sports bra and boxers and yourself in an old tank top and thin underwear. Your clothes stick uncomfortably to your skin.

In her feeble attempt to fight the heat, Ellie had dragged in old fan to sit at the end of the bed. It shakes and whirs air towards the bed, though isn’t even close to cooling you in the slightest.

You had also propped open the windows and the balcony door, which allowed some drafts of fresh air to flow into the stuffy room. The somewhat peaceful sound of crickets can be heard chirping in the still trees outside.

It’s 2:25 am when you wake up to the bed slightly shaking, hearing soft whimpering coming from beside you. Looking over, you see your girlfriend, Ellie, curled in a ball with her hands clutching her head, shaking and mumbling words you can’t understand.

Her white-knuckled hands grip her scalp, her hair slightly damp with sweat and messy from a restless sleep. You sit up, rubbing your eyes and turning on the lamp on your side of the bed.

“Ellie?” You whisper. No answer. You scoot closer. In the dim light, you can see the muscles in her jaw clenching, her eyebrows pinching together, her face twitching in fear. Or perhaps anger? Her entire body is shaking, breaths coming in quick, sweat dripping down her brow and back.

You sit there for a moment, hand hovering over her shoulder, debating on whether or not to wake her up. You don’t want to scare her awake, but the way she twitches and whimpers… It’s worse than usual, you can’t stand to see her like this.

Ellie has had her fair share of nightmares, but you’ve never seen her in this bad of a state before. You hate watching this. Whatever is going through your girlfriend’s mind is worse than usual, and you don’t want her to stay in this dream by herself any longer.

“Ellie, babe.” You whisper again, lightly nudging her shoulder.

“NO!!” Ellie jolts herself awake with a desperate scream, voice cracking, startling you as well.

Within a millisecond, she quickly grabs her switchblade from the bedside table and holds it out in front of her. Her eyes frantically scanning around the room for a threat.

“Heyheyhey, Ellie it’s okay!” You quickly grab her wrist and try to settle the shaking hand gripping the knife.

You know you’re not in danger. She would often wake up from a nightmare with the knife in her hands. It’s merely a fight response powered by muscle memory. Subconsciously determined to protect not only herself, but most importantly, you.

She’s shaking, beads of cold sweat falling down her brow, her chest and back. Her eyes are unfocused and searching for something, anything.

“Ellie, look at me, it’s just me. I’m here. You’re okay.” You whisper, attempting to gain her attention. Her wide green eyes try so desperately hard to focus on the whatever is in front of her.

She’s panting, gasping for air like she had just been pulled from water. Her chest heaves violently with each inhale.

“Look at me, come back to me, babe.” You whisper softly, your free hand moving slowly and cautiously to cup her jaw, thumb rubbing back and forth on her cheek. “It was just a dream. You’re okay.” You repeat.

Ellie’s eyes slowly focus back on you. Her senses recognising the soft touch of your hand on her shivering body. The sudden realisation that it was all a dream comes as an exhausting wave of relief.

Tears swell up in her eyes as her lip begins to quiver. Just as quickly as the panting had stopped, it starts back up again with a small pained cry.

You shush her gently as you continue smoothing you thumb over her cheek, catching streams of warm tears as they fall.

Her grip on the knife loosens as she lets it fall to the floor with a clatter.

“There we go, that’s it.” You coo, moving your other hand to cup her cheek on the other side of her face.

“Look at me, breathe with me, baby,” You start taking deep breaths, encouraging the hyperventilating woman in front of you to join you. “In…and out, that’s it, keep going.”

Ellie takes long shaking breaths, staring into your eyes, her hands now holding a vice grip on your arms.

“Y-you… I- I c-could-n’t-“

“Shhhh. I know, I know. Just breathe, baby, focus on me.” You whisper, tucking a stray piece of damp hair behind her ear.

Her vision is blurry, this time from tears while she hiccups desperate breaths of air. You slowly bring your hand down to her’s, guiding it to your chest, allowing her to feel the steady beating of your heart. She lets out a few shaky breaths, more tears falling to the bedsheets.

“We’re in Jackson, baby. We’re in our house, in our room. You’re safe, Ellie.” You whisper. “You’re safe. I’m safe. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Ellie chokes out a broken sob at your reassuring smile. Her hand clenches, balling the thin fabric of your tank top into her fist.

Uncaring of the heat, she quickly wraps her tattooed arm around your waist, scooping you into her lap with a grunt, her face presses into your neck, now quickly becoming wet with her tears. The feeling of you in her arms, the smell of your body wash, your warm skin, your beating heart, it was all real. You’re really here.

You sit together for what seems like ages, Ellie clinging to you and slightly rocking in comfort while you tuck her head beneath your chin, carding you hand through her hair, soothing her with small hums and whispers.

“It’s all over, you’re okay. Shhh there we go.” You draw mindless soothing shapes on her back, tacky with a thin layer of sweat. She sobs quietly into your chest, hiccuping while she grasps at the thin fabric on your back. She listens to your heartbeat, holding you tightly as if you would disappear at any moment.

Logically, Ellie knows she’s safe. She knows that you’re alive, here in her arms. She knows you’re okay. But that doesn’t stop the deep feeling of dread her nightmares bring. It doesn’t stop the memories, the flashbacks and the night terrors. Those awful fucking dreams that happen multiple times a week. Stupid dreams that keep her up at night. It all feels too real. Of course she knows it’s not, but that’s what makes this all so much more frustrating.

This isn’t the first time she’s woken you up from one of her nightmares. And the guilt she feels from it is immeasurable.

She sobs into your chest, hiding her face in shame from you. You, her girlfriend who loves and understands her deeply. You’re patient and strong. You’re willing to put your needs on hold for the one you love. You’ve never judged Ellie for a second. Not once have you blamed her, or thought that she’s overreacting. Ellie knows this deep down too. She just can’t accept the fact that someone cares.

The rational part of her brain tells her that this is normal and she’s not being a burden. It tells her that it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to take time to heal. But the rest of her doesn’t listen. The rest of her brain tells her that she’s a failure. That she’s better than this. She should’ve died from the bite like all the others. Just like Riley.

After Ellie’s crying eventually slows and her breathing becomes steady, you cup her cheek again and gently move her to look at you, her chin resting on your chest.

“How about a shower, huh?” You ask. Her half lidded eyes red and irritated from the tears that are now drying on her cheeks and your neck and chest.

“Y-yeah… okay.” She hesitantly agrees. You shift out of bed. Now standing to both your natural heights, you cup her cheeks once more.

“Alright, you go take a nice, cool shower- as long as you need. I’ll be right out here. I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”

She nods. You smile at her and smooth your hands slowly down her arms to entangle your fingers with hers. Your touch a gentle, calming caress, grounding Ellie in reality.

You look back over your shoulder to the bed. Suddenly noticing the damp spots on the front of your shirt, you think for a moment, watching the rickety old fan rotate slowly.

“Hmm, I’m already up,” You mumble to yourself. “I’ll put some new bedsheets on and change.” You announce to your girlfriend, letting go and turning to exit the room.

“You go take that showe-“ your movements are quickly stopped when Ellie grasps a hand around your wrist.

“Please don’t go…” She whispers. Ellie straightens her shoulders and clears her throat. “I uh- we should both take a shower. There’s no use in changing the sheets if we’re not both clean.” Her real plea goes without saying.

I need you with me.

You know it. Ellie knows you know it too, but she can’t help but try to hide any feelings of vulnerability. She drops her head with quiet curse and clenches her eyes shut at how pathetic and childish she sounds, clinging on to you when you would just be in the hallway for a moment.

“Alright,” You smile. “I’ll join you, but we need new sheets first.” You repeat softly, placing a quick kiss to her forehead. Ellie lets go of your wrist, turning to slump against the wall to watch and wait for you, like a lovesick puppy.

You walk to the linen closet in the hallway, taking out some fresh sheets and a small bottle of lavender oil. You go through the motions of changing the bedsheets, all under Ellie’s watchful eyes. When you stand back to admire your work, you grab the bottle of lavender oil and put two drops on Ellie’s pillow. You haven’t used it in a few months, so luckily there was enough left.

Later in the shower, you stand behind your girlfriend, peppering kisses across her back and massaging shampoo into her scalp. Gently scrubbing away her worries as she leans her forehead on the cool tile wall, breathing deep and slow, trying not to fall asleep under your gentle touch. She lets you move her around and shape her like putty under your hands. Her heavy eyelids closing over her fatigued eyes.

Your soft, gentle hands caress her and work out the knots in her tense shoulders. You chuckle at the occasional quiet groan or whisper of a swear under her breath whenever you hit a particularly sore spot.

You won’t let her move a muscle, you’re doing everything for her and you like it this way. You absolutely love taking care of the ones you love. In your eyes, it’s as rewarding as being looked after yourself. So often Ellie would spoil you, treat you and take care of you in more ways than you could imagine. But right now it’s your turn to shower her with love and affection.

When you finish your shower, you stand in the bathroom while slowly drying Ellie with a towel, pressing light kisses all over her dripping body, paying extra attention to her various scars.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispers, breaking the silence between you two. You look up, your girlfriend near falling asleep under the dim light of the bathroom.

“What for?”

“For… for waking you up. For being a shitty girlfriend. I let all the shit get to my head.” She gestures vaguely to her head. Her eyes, red and stinging from the strain of crying start to water up again.

“I’m supposed to be there for you. You’ve got your own nightmares, your own… trauma. And here I am being selfish and… fucking pathetic.” Her voice cracking as she avoids your gentle gaze.

“Hey, look at me, babe.” You whisper, cupping your hand on her cheek, your other hand resting on her shoulder.

“First of all, I’m glad you woke me up. I don’t want you to go through any of that alone. I’ll never be mad at you for waking me up when you’ve had a nightmare, okay?” You smile. “Don’t worry about me, okay? Sure, I’ve got my own issues, but that doesn’t negate yours. You need help too, as much as you like to act tough and deny it.” You tease, poking at her chest. Ellie lets out a genuine chuckle.

“You’re not weak, Ellie. You’re the strongest person I know. Seriously.” You start drawing small soothing circles on her bare chest, watching the way the stray water droplets fall down her neck onto her collarbone.

“We’ll get through this together, okay? We’ll sort it out.” You continue. “You don’t need to act tough around me. We’ve got each other, yeah?” You look up at her and smile. All your love for her displayed on your gentle expression.

“God, I love you so much.” She exhales in one quick breath, wrapping her arm around your waist to pull your into a slow, lazy kiss.

“I love you too.” You giggle. For the first time that night, you watch Ellie smile. Genuinely smile. Her teeth poke through the small sliver of a grin as she chuckles with you. God, you’re so happy to see hear her laugh, she barely does nowadays. The warm and velvety sound like music to your ears.

After you change into fresh clothes, Ellie lays on her back in bed, savouring the feeling of her clean skin against the cold, fresh bedsheets you had laid out. She inhales, deep and slow.

“Lavender…” She mumbles.

“Yeah, I used to use it when I can’t sleep. It helps the brain relax. At least, that’s what my mom always told me.”

“It’s nice. It… smells like you.” She sits up on her forearms and watches as you unplug and move the rickety floor fan.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m moving this to your side,” You explain as you plug the fan back in. “People get night terrors when they’re too hot.”

“But, your side- It’ll barely reach you from over here.” Ellie argues.

“I’ll live.” You assure her with a smile. She can’t deny that the feeling of the fan directly facing her now was heavenly. The air rustling her damp hair and cooling her body. She flops back onto the bed, relishing in the fresh air now concentrated on her side of the bed.

Once you had gotten two fresh glasses of cold water, you slowly climb into bed, leaning over Ellie and tucking her damp hair out of her face. “I love you.” You whisper, kissing her on her forehead.

Ellie reaches up and pulls you back down by the nape of your neck, kissing your soft lips. You rest your forehead on hers.

“I love you so, so much.” She mumbles. “Thank you…”

“Wake me up if there’s any other nightmares?” You ask. Ellie nods sheepishly.

With another peck to her lips, you roll over, giving her room to not overcrowd her body with extra heat. Without the fan facing the middle of the bed, you barely get any cool air, but you don’t mind, so long as Ellie gets it all and sleeps comfortably.

“I love you. Goodnight, baby.”

“G’night.”

The rest of the night is filled with soft, steady breathing, the white noise of the occasional gust of wind and the crickets chirping outside. Ellie sleeps comfortably the rest of the night, and you catch drafts of fresh air from the open window.

—

Again, not proud of this but I wanted to post it anyway :)

[yichens]

Pit Babe Characters x Cartomancy ➣ Part 5: Winner & Dean

Jack of Clubs: Reckless and a little too sure of himself. Gets in trouble a lot because of his bad temper. Seven of Spades: A card of bad luck and loss. Making hasty decisions out of frustration.

for @pitbabeanniversary week 5 prompts: winner & dean

(more thoughts under the cut!)

disclaimer: i am not an expert in either cartomancy or tarot reading. i did a lot of research on these two sites to come up with these cards for the characters. some of the meanings associated with the cards are still only my own interpretation, so they might not be completely accurate.

when i started this series, i was sure of only two pairs and their colors: babe and charlie would be blue, and winner and dean would be red, just like the team colors. so here we are, the only pair to have only black suits for their cards, ironically depicted in blood red.

winner: i was a little disappointed that there isn't "the biggest asshole" card in the deck, but i guess it makes sense that each card has good and bad sides, just like us humans and our lives have good and bad in them. so, winner gets the "winner card" (i am endlessly amused by winner's nickname when he's such a loser (affectionate) in the series). he gets the card that always reaches for the first place, for the biggest prize.

jack of clubs is the card that approaches everything with great passion and enthusiasm. they have endless energy, so they often participate in some kind of competitive sport. they're confident, courageous, and charming. but they're also arrogant, quick tempered, shallow, and thoughtless. which i think summarizes winner perfectly bc he's almost always insufferable and hard to handle, has a loud mouth, and begs to get punched. also please for the love of god, someone take the gun away from him.

dean: obviously a spade which as a suit is often linked to challenges and obstacles as well as failures and losses. overall, i don't think dean is a bad guy; i know he's trying his best and cares for his pack. he's like a son to alan, and a little brother to north and sonic etc. he just has a lot of ambition and big dreams, and i understand his frustration when it seems that he will be kept from accomplishing anything. he wants to be a star, and it must suck to notice that your efforts don't matter. especially when someone like charlie takes your place from right under your nose seemingly without any effort.

the most fitting thing about the seven of spades for dean is the experience of lacking progress. dean isn't moving forward the way he wanted which eventually leads him into making bad choices and big mistakes. he accepts kenta's offer that dooms him, sets him up for failure and abandonment. i believe him when he says he never meant for charlie to actually die (which he doesn't but dean never gets to know that) bc dean is not evil. he's just a human who feels like he's been treated unfairly and no one seems to recognize that, no one else but tony. it's painful how such things can be so easily used. that's probably why his betrayal completely blindsides the rest of the pack, never realizing how deep dean's disappointment is.

as a pair, i find it most amusing that winner and dean ended up with a ton of parallels linked to the other pairs and their cards. they're a pair of jack and seven just like kenta and kim. winner even has the same suit, clubs, as kim which you can interpret in multiple ways (they're not the same person, but they somehow occupy a similar place in the story, yet approach it differently). meanwhile, dean has the same suit as charlie and they're only two numbers apart. interestingly enough, six of spades that falls between them, is the card of completion and healing. it's the card that represents a quiet, almost stale period in life after something big has happened. it promises better things in the future, but first you need to center yourself again.

none of these parallels were intentional, but i find it fitting that they happened anyway. i can't really see winner and dean as a proper pair bc they don't actually even meet much in the series, but they are tightly connected to the others and all the big events that transpire. maybe it's meant to be then that they connect to the others rather than to each other. they are puzzle pieces and without them, the picture wouldn't be completed.

[operationslipperypuppet]

to expand lightly on my theory post regarding some of what might be afoot this season (devised and parsed through in collaboration with @stone-stars)

the actions against cassandra and kristen are a revenge plot, orchestrated by a combination of sol, galicaea, and helio. they each have their own vendettas contributing to this. sol has beef with kristen due to the “wholeheartedly reject all offers” scene, where he does turn on her first. he also was incapacitated in freshman year because she let aguefort into his domain. i imagine a sun god isn’t super pleased that there were 4 months of endless night. he also might not like cassandra due to who she used to be. helio once chose kristen and continued to supply her with spells despite her rejection of him and his teachings. she refused to spend any time with him and literally punched him in the face. he’s got some baggage there, for sure. galicaea experienced the first time kristen and cassandra connected, her attempt at convincing kristen was disrupted by the goddess eventually known as cassandra. her followers were responsible for killing the initial version of cassandra. her followers are now facing a revival due to tracker’s pilgrimage (kristen’s ex) and she’s just petty enough to blame kristen for that. plus, her snooty self hated her wolfy side. this revival would arguably make the snootier elves double down on that hatred. as above, so below.

the goings on against fig and the establishment of her cool new horrible luck are probably coming from a devil. the pride armor vision showed that it had ties to that sort of thing. and devils are lawful. fig is not. her ascension into the seat of the bottomless pit was on a technicality and the people who presided over it immediately hated that it happened. she’s been busy (she’s a mortal teen attempting to save the world) and has neglected her hellish domain on a similar level to her father, who lost his job about it. the lawful operatives running hell would not take kindly to that. so they could (would) reach out to her in a moment of her weakness and hand off a curse, as punishment. because hell is also about punishment.

now, i’m sure you’re thinking: why are these in the same post? easy. because i think they’re connected.

the rage stones that were corrupting cassandra and the mages were similar to what happened to ragh’s mom, as zac figured out. lydia is in a medically prolonged state of rage to keep the devil in her chest at bay. (there are some discrepancies over whether it’s a devil or a demon. but i trust ragh to know those minor details over arthur “i forgot to tell lydia i was doing this” aguefort). if something kept back by a prolonged state of rage was given leave to attempt its influence on something (on the astral plane, no less, where rules are almost always different), perhaps its influence would be rage inducing. and, just as she was taken over by one of these stones, kalina, who knew about lydia’s status in sophomore year since she did try to kill lydia, called out “ragh barkrock!”, bringing up another clear and direct connection.

the nightmare king sided with demons during the blood wars. the devils trapped the nightmare king in the forest (this is why arianwen needed gorthalax and why fig’s promotion was vital to their success). the devils would probably want to fight back. the gods we’ve met would probably dislike the imbalance that comes from establishing a new god, especially one who is a riff on one they already destroyed (cassandra establishes that she is not the same goddess she was before her sister killed her. but there have to be similarities. and maybe galicaea doesn’t know that).

the first time we meet our beloved garthy o’brien, they talk about how devils (they say fiends but are explicitly talking about devils and not demons) and celestials and gods are not simply opposed. they’re part of a system that balances out all its parts. angels fall. devils could rise. they work together as part of a bigger system.

so. so. if two specific mortals and their merry band of idiot friends are in direct opposition to some of the most powerful and petty entities in the universe, would they not want to perhaps join forces to attempt to take them down? especially if it could come from freeing one (“important”) devil from decades of being trapped, restoring balance further?

bonus here is the idea that bill seacaster’s goal in hell is to “kill the devil himself”, and perhaps he’s getting too close for comfort and balance must be maintained somehow. and what better way to distract him than by threatening his son?

plus, we know cassandra’s “i thought you were dead” wasn’t directed at kalina or the nightmare king. but maybe, in her brief time back as a god, she noticed the absence of a particular devil. and thought they might have died, when they were actually just trapped.

all that being said, it’s a fun theory to me and maybe we’re completely wrong. but everything we thought about more made it make more sense, which is a wild experience.

[rotten-dogs]

bot!bada w some pussy slapping please 🤲🏻

yall don’t care if I title this so I’m just gonna go in raw

You were never a greedy lover. At least that’s what all your exes would say. You were quiet, kind, always attentive to them and for the most part — it was taken advantage of.

With Bada though, you found your appetite had grown egregiously. Every little thing she did caused a wretched sensation to spark inside of you. When she spoke , you could barely focus, mind running haywire with all the possibilities of what, how, when, why?

You were never always like this but Bada fosters an environment where you only can be like this.

You’re both sitting on the couch, some mind numbing excuse of cinema playing rapid fire on the tv while Bada watches silently. The endless dulling scroll of your phone has long since bored you and you find yourself staring at the side of her face for entirely longer than necessary. A smile is slowly creeping onto her face under the ambient lighting of your shared apartment and you know you’re caught; you don’t care.

“Are you going to stare all night?” She asks suddenly and your lip quirks up at that, a hand reaching across the couch to take one of her strands between your fingers. You loop it around your finger taut, before letting it fall loose then repeating it again, and again. She finally looks at you, the dark of her irises all the more inviting. “Come over here.” The words slip from your mouth almost instantaneously. That greed, only she can pull it out from you.

And Bada, she’s nothing if not defiant. Quirking her head to the side she raises an eyebrow, suddenly disinterested in the show and sliding to the far end of the couch, facing you suddenly instead, one leg dangling off the couch. “Over here?” She asks and it feels like she’s mocking you.

You make a move to hover over here and it’s quick. You see a flash of surprise across her features but it’s not there for long. “Bada,” your hand moves to pull her leg closer to you, sliding across her inner thigh and she holds her breath. “You know what I meant.” Your words have a sudden finality to it that convey something dangerous. “I warned you.” Is what they say despite the fact that you didn’t.

There’s a pit burning a ferocious and contagious fire inside of you. You can see it in the irises of her eyes, the way her breath is held in wait, her lip tucked between her teeth while her eyes dilate. You find yourself staring inside of them and seeing the frame of yourself. Your eyes are blown out completely because Bada is a drug; a drug you’ve gotten hooked onto.

Your hands make quick work of her pants before she has time to say anything. Some sadistic desire is brewing in your gut. All those times you’d let her brattiness slip between your fingers, your own desire coming in match to her. Your lack of self control. All of it was screaming at you that this is your moment to regain. Conquer her, take her.

Her now bare legs come to wrap around your waist, an attempt to pull you closer and you shake your head before pushing them back until her knees are touching the fabric of the couch. You can see a slight discomfort on her face but she welcomes the stretch albeit confused. Your hands slide off of her legs and come to hold both of her own, guiding them to hold her own legs as you were before.

“Hold them up or you’ll get more.”

“More wha-“

A load slap rings between the both of you, so much so that the sound alone startles her before the pain is registered. Her hands slip off her thighs and you quickly press them back down into the couch as they start to unravel in her stupor. “I said don’t move them.” You watch as her hands slide back unto the underside of her thighs and her mouth opens,

“Baby..”

Another slap on her cunt. Again, taking her off guard but she doesn’t waver, instead her lip quivers and a familiar wetness is dancing across her pupils. You smirk to yourself at this, biting your lip as you bring your hand up and slap, aiming specifically for her clit this time. A groan sounds between the both of you and you take note of the redness filling the space of her womanhood.

“You think you can do whatever you want, hm?” You ask, an eyebrow raised and you get a desperate head shake in response, “No..”

“Yes you do, that’s why you test me. Isn’t it?” You slap her pussy and she cries out underneath you, legs trembling. “Little slut, you deserve this. All those times you got what you wanted. Look at you now.” Your smile is shit eating and lean forward, your breath fanning against her neck suddenly as you listen to her sniffle, still, her hands are holding her thighs back. She’s still exposing herself for you. You sit back up, pulling her closer against your front before bringing your hand down. Slap.

“Please…” you hear her pathetic sobs beneath you, a tear finally slipping down her cheek as she stares up at you with vacancy.

“Please? Please what?”

“I need you.” Her voice dies in her throat as your hand collides with her pussy once more. It twitches, red and angry as she sobs, her whole body wracking with it as tears spill down her cheeks. You lean forward, licking a stripe from her wet chin to her leaky eyes, the salt of her tears hitting your tastebuds.

“You need me? Huh?” You trail a finger between her folds, eliciting a gasp from her. “You’ve been so.. independent lately I didn’t think you needed anything.”

“Is that it? You need me? Hm? To do this?” You slide a finger inside of her, just one, a tease and oh she’s so pathetic. Looking like a lost puppy when she looks up at you and nods eagerly, her mouth agape as she tries to push herself further down onto your finger, craving friction.

A laugh sounds from your throat and you shake your head, pulling your finger out and slapping her pussy one last time. She starts up immediately, the tears, the begging, the whining and your silence is making her whole body shake. All she wants is you to take her.

And that greed sneaks up on you, as if it had been laying in wait. So you take your lip between your teeth again and pull her up to your level by the milky expanse of her throat. Shoving your tongue in her mouth in a rough excuse of a kiss before forcing her over the couch by the back of her neck, her ass raised and her cunt begging to be filled.

‘Maybe I should deprive her more often’, the only thought crossing your mind.