#it's very much something in between this haze like state

[reluctaunt]

you know that scene in anastasia where rasputin uses a dreamlike state to try and lure anya to her death. thats vaguely how I interpret the vanny situation. it's not entirely glitchtrap taking over but vanessa herself is certainly not wholly present

[fungateshortcakes]

Come as you are

Pairing: oldman!Logan x chubbyfem!Reader

Summary: You have developed a crush on the man that has offered you safety and friendship all these months ago. But how could he ever love someone like you?

Wordcount: 1.6k

Warnings/tags: english is not my first language, slight angst, fluff, age gap, body image issues, insecurities, self loathing, happy ending, very self indulging

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

The air in the smelting plant was heavy with the silence that stretched throughout. The only sound came from the slow crackle of the fire, its light casting soft, flickering shadows onto the walls. You sat at the edge of the old, worn down couch, picking at a loose thread on your sweater, trying to focus on anything but the man across the room.

Logan was drinking his fifth coffee of the night while reading through some newspapers, his movements methodical while he turned a page, his soft groan cutting through the silence as his reading glasses slipped lower on his nose. You’d always found him fascinating to watch—so gentle with the things he handled, except for when he handled himself. The way his brows knitted together as he read, deepening the shadow of a wrinkle between them. There were so many mundane things he did that drew you to him.

It was part of why you had fallen for him in the first place.

But you would never tell him that.

You sighed quietly, your fingers curling into your lap. Logan had been your friend for a few months now, ever since he helped you out of a scrape you didn’t want to think too much about. He had offered you safety, companionship, and a kind of loyalty you’d never known from anyone else. And you?

You had given him nothing.

Sure, you helped around the home, if you could call it that, cooked dinner for him and Charles, patched his clothes when they tore, patched him when he got into another fight at his job—but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t enough. That you weren’t enough. Never enough.

It wasn’t just the way your body didn’t fit society’s definition of “perfect" and that your clothes could only hide so much. You had made your peace with being chubby long ago. Or at least, you thought you had. But sitting here, watching a man like Logan chiseled, hardened, and impossibly strong, you couldn’t help but feel painfully out of place.

And then there was the age gap.

You were in your early twenties. He was... what? Pushing 200? Sure, he didn’t look it. His is healing factor had frozen him in what seemed to be his late 50s, but the years between you loomed like a canyon you would never be able to cross.

Why would someone like him ever look at someone like you?

“Somethin’ on your mind?” his voice startled you, rough and low, breaking through the haze of your never ending, self deprecating thoughts. You looked up to find him watching you, his glasses sitting on the table, his dark eyes sharp and focused just on you. “No,” you said, too quickly for his liking, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

His brow furrowed deeply, a look you had come to know too well on him “Ya don’t look fine.” He states matter of factly. You tried to laugh it off, but it came out forced. “I’m just tired.” Logan didn’t buy it.

“Bullshit,” he said bluntly, leaning forward in his chair. “You’ve been quiet all day. You're never quiet. What’s goin’ on?” Yeah, you never shut up. You were quite the chatterbox around him because you felt so at ease, as if you wouldn’t be judged. Now you thought maybe that was something that annoyed him about you. The constant talking and noise because of you, not a silent moment because you were never able to read the room and shut up. You frowned, turning away from him. “Nothing,” you insisted, standing up abruptly. “I’m going to bed.”

You didn’t make it two steps before he shot up from his seat, striding over to you and catching your wrist in his large, rugged hand. He didn’t grip hard, Logan never touched you with anything but the gentlest care, but it stopped you in your tracks with a gasp.

“Talk to me,” he urged, his tone softer now. You hesitated, your chest tight with the weight of all the things you had been holding back for so long “Logan, just... drop it, okay?” you pleaded, trying to get your hand out of his grasp. “No.” he stood, his hand still around your wrist, his eyes searching yours. “You don’t get to shut me out like that.”

Your resolve started to crack, but you weren't about to let him win, so you forcefully ripped your arm awas from his grip “Why do you even care?” you sputtered out, your voice starting to feel raw. His brow furrowed even more, his chest heaving with your rejection “What kind of question is that?”

“Because you shouldn’t!” you snapped, throwing your hands in the air. “I’m nothing to you, Logan. Just some stupid kid who’s too young, too... too fat—” you weren't able to finish your sentence as Logans hands shot up to hold you by your shoulders, not letting you go “Don’t.” His voice was sharp, cutting through your words like a blade. You froze, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. You swallowed thickly, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” he rasped lowly, his tone softening again but no less firm. You bit your lip harshly, a distressed sound ripping from your throat “Why not?” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “It’s the truth.”

Logan stepped closer, his rough hands gentle on your body, his expression unreadable but his gaze unwavering. “You really think that?”

You nodded, shrugging his hands off you despite needing the warmth, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Why wouldn’t I? I mean, look at you, Logan. You’re... you’re everything. And I’m just... me.” you sniffled, avoiding his eyes. He exhaled heavily, his hand coming up to rake through his grey hair. “You think I care about any of that? About numbers or size or—”

“Yes!” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “Because you could have anyone, Logan. Someone more mature. Someone prettier, someone better!.” you nearly yelled, but undeniably got chocked up on your tears. He stared at you for a long moment, his jaw tight, his hands clenching at his sides. Then, without a word, he closed the space between you, making you press yourself against the wall.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice low but steady, his tired eyes piercing “You think I care about how old you are? About how much curves you've got? Hell, sugar, you’re the only good thing I have left in my life, and you’re standing here actin’ like you’re not enough?”

You blinked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Logan—” you started breathlessly, but he lifted a warning finger at you. “No,” he said, cutting you off. “You don’t get to tell me what I want. And what I want is you. All of you. Just as you are.” Tears spilled over your round cheeks before you could stop them, and Logan’s hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs firmly brushing them away.

His hands held your face as if it was a precious artifact made out of porcelain, one that would shatter if handled too carelessly “I know I’m not good at this,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours. “Hell, I’ve screwed up more times than I can count. But I know what I feel. And I feel it for you.”

Your breath hitched and he tilted your chin up ever so gently to meet his eyes, his gaze locked on yours. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he said quietly. “Tell me you don’t feel the same.”

You couldn’t.

Instead, you threw your arms around him, burying your face in his broad chest as the dam finally broke. Logan held you tight, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other wrapped firmly around your plush waist. He was so warm and he smelled so good. Like home. This was home. “You’re it for me, sugar” he whispered into your hair, his salt and pepper beard scratching your temple “Don’t ever doubt that.”

When you finally pulled back, your eyes met his, and for the first time in what felt like forever you let yourself believe it. “You mean it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, rare smile. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.” you didn’t respond, not with words. Instead, you leaned in slowly, giving Logan every chance to pull away, though you knew he wouldn’t. Not after that. He met you halfway, your lips brushing softly at first, tentative and sweet.

The kiss deepened, a tender exploration that spoke of all the moments you hadn’t been brave enough to share until now. Logan hadn't thought he would ever feel like his younger self again, kissing a pretty lady while his heart threatened to burst out of his chest. His broad hands smoothed over the soft curves that were your hips, trying to map your body like he had wanted for so long.

When you finally seperated, just a breath apart, you were suddenly lifted up into the air. You shrieked, clinging to Logan while he held you up by your thick thighs effortlessly. He smirked smuggly at you, a rare sight, and you pouted. "Just because I am dying doesn't mean I can't handle a girl like you, sugar" he drawled and carried you back over to the couch. He let himself fall onto the worn down cushions with you on top of him, your weight comforting on him. You were no light feather and he appreciated that. He could actually feel you on top of him, actually had something to grab you by.

Upon his mention that he was actively dying because of the adamantium lacing his bones, a heavy feeling settled in your stomach and your smile dropped. He noticed and gave your cheek a kiss "Hey. Don't worry. I'll be here for as long as you'll have me" and when he leaned down to kiss you again, it was slow and steady and full of promises you knew he’d never break.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

I really hope you liked this short fic and maybe can relate to it as well!

Characters like Logan are always paired with the skinny, dolled up, feminine, conventionally attractive woman and that kind of makes me feel like (if someone like Logan existed) i wouldn’t have a chance because i am fat. I already think that, but still!

We need more representation because we are people like everyone else and deserve to live in peace just like everyone else.

I know it's hard to believe- but you are beautiful and worthy, no matter your size. I still have to believe that myself, but I will get there someday🎀

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Two

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: Inspired by the movie "Life as We Know It"!

Masterlist: Here

It had been three days since you’d found yourself in Rafe’s house, a place that now felt more like a cage than a refuge. You hadn’t had much time to adjust to the new reality. Between the funeral, the endless meetings with lawyers and child services, and the sudden responsibility of Willa, everything seemed to blur together in a haze of exhaustion.

You had told yourself you’d stay at the house more often, that you’d help Rafe get into a routine with Willa, but the sheer weight of everything had left you in a constant state of uncertainty. It wasn’t just that you were suddenly her guardian, it was that you were also navigating a delicate, complicated dynamic with Rafe. Every time you thought you had a handle on things, another obstacle seemed to rise up in front of you.

But life didn’t stop, and the bills still needed to be paid. So, you found yourself at the local café by 7 a.m. every morning, working the early shift as if it were a lifeline to some semblance of normalcy. The smell of fresh coffee and pastries helped ground you, a comfort amidst the chaos.

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That morning, you found yourself staring blankly at the coffee machine, lost in thought as you tried to get a fresh batch brewing. Willa’s laugh echoed in your mind, that small, joyful sound she’d made when you’d managed to make her smile that morning at Rafe’s house. But then there was Rafe—his disheveled hair, his barely-contained frustration as he tried to make breakfast, as if he were a stranger in his own life.

You shook the thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand. You couldn’t afford distractions right now.

"Hey, [Y/N], you okay?" Jess, your co-worker, asked as she slid into the back room, eyeing you with concern. Jess had been your friend since you started working at the café, and while she wasn’t a mind reader, she could always tell when something was off.

You nodded quickly, putting a smile on your face. "Yeah, just a little tired. You know how it is."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press further. "Well, the morning rush is about to hit, and we’re already behind, so I’ll let you catch up. Just take it easy when you can, alright?"

You offered a grateful smile, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. Jess had a way of reading you, and the last thing you wanted was to let her know the extent of what you were juggling.

The morning rush came and went, the familiar frenzy of orders, refills, and people coming and going. By noon, the crowd thinned, and you finally got a break. You slipped into the back room, sitting on one of the crates as you checked your phone, hoping for a distraction.

You had a few missed texts, mostly from Sarah’s family offering condolences, a few work-related messages, and then... one from Rafe.

Can you come over tonight? Willa’s been fussy all day. I can’t figure out what she wants.

You stared at the message for a moment, your thumb hovering over the screen. You’d been trying to keep your distance from Rafe, only coming over when absolutely necessary, and still, he was asking for help. He hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with his emotions, but there was something about the way he’d written this message that gave you pause.

You knew it wasn’t just about Willa—it never had been. There was still tension between you and Rafe, an unspoken rift that neither of you had quite figured out how to cross. Yet, here he was, reaching out.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. You’d been trying to balance it all—work, helping Rafe, and processing the grief that seemed to be dragging you under—but it wasn’t easy. You needed to be there for Willa, but you also needed to keep your job, and your sanity.

After a moment of contemplation, you typed out a reply. I’ll be there around six. I can stay for a few hours.

You didn’t know what you expected, but you sure as hell didn’t expect the quick response. 

Thanks. I’ll make dinner. She’s been restless.

You felt a strange knot form in your stomach at the offer. Dinner? From Rafe Cameron? A part of you wanted to laugh, but another part—an irrational, confusing part—wondered if this was his way of trying to do something right, for once.

The rest of your shift passed in a blur. You tried to focus on the coffee orders and the chatter of the customers, but all you could think about was Rafe and the odd, fragile dynamic that had begun to take root.

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By the time you pulled into Rafe’s driveway later that evening, you could feel the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. But Willa needed you, and whether or not you wanted to admit it, Rafe did, too.

You took a deep breath before getting out of your car, trying to mentally prepare yourself for whatever awaited inside.

The house looked even bigger at night, the lights from the interior casting long shadows across the front yard. As you walked up the stone path, you noticed the faint scent of something cooking—garlic, herbs... something surprisingly warm and inviting.

When you stepped inside, the familiar coldness of the house hit you, but this time, there was something different. The warmth of a home-cooked meal filled the air, and for the briefest moment, it almost felt like things could be normal again.

Rafe was in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up as he stood over the stove. He looked up when you entered, a slight tension in his posture as if he was still waiting for you to call him out on some unseen mistake.

“Hey,” you said quietly, watching him carefully. “Dinner smells good.”

He nodded, but didn’t meet your eyes. “It’s nothing fancy. Just pasta, I—uh, thought it might help if she had something warm.” His voice faltered, just a little, but he quickly recovered.

You glanced over at Willa, who was in her high chair, her small hands gripping the edge of the tray as she watched Rafe. She looked so small in the expansive room, and the sight hit you in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You walked over to her, gently picking her up from the chair. “Hey, little one,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Rafe turned away from the stove, his hands gripping the counter as he stared down at the floor. "I don't know what I'm doing. She won’t stop crying, and I... I don’t get it."

You felt a pang of sympathy, despite everything. You moved toward him, your voice soft. “It’s okay. You’re doing fine. It��s all new for both of us. You don’t have to have all the answers.”

Rafe looked up at you, his expression tense but vulnerable. "Yeah. I guess I just... I want to do right by her. I don’t want to screw this up."

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. 

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The sound of Willa’s cries echoed through the vast kitchen, filling the space with a noise that felt almost too loud for the house. She was tiny, yet her cries were fierce, relentless. It had been over an hour, and you were beginning to feel like you were running out of options. You had tried everything.

You’d fed her, changed her, rocked her. But no matter what you did, she wouldn’t stop. Willa’s little fists clenched and her body writhed in your arms, the tears never slowing, never quieting.

“Come on, Willa,” you muttered, trying to soothe her with the kind of gentle rocking you’d seen Sarah do a million times. But nothing worked. You glanced over at Rafe, who was standing across the kitchen with his arms crossed, looking both helpless and frustrated.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Why the hell won’t she stop?”

You didn’t have an answer. Honestly, you didn’t know why she was crying, either. She had been fine all afternoon, playing with her toys, laughing when you made funny faces at her. But now, she was inconsolable, and it was starting to tear at your patience—and Rafe’s too.

You rocked Willa more gently, trying to keep calm. "I don’t know," you said softly, your voice low and soothing. “Maybe it’s... something else. She could be tired, or maybe she’s just upset. Babies have their moods.” You spoke from experience, but your words felt thin in the moment. You hadn’t expected to be thrown into this role, and you were starting to feel every bit of the weight of it.

Rafe glanced at you, his brow furrowing. “Do you think she’s sick?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

You shook your head. "I don't think so... I mean, she doesn’t have a fever. Maybe it's just... a bad moment." You were doing your best to sound confident, but even you didn’t believe the words you were saying.

Willa’s cries intensified, her tiny body wriggling in your arms, making it even harder to calm her. Your chest tightened with frustration, helplessness. It was hard enough to balance everything with the weight of the situation, but right now? You felt completely out of your depth.

“I don’t know what else to do,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. You looked over at Rafe, who hadn’t moved an inch since you started holding Willa. His face was tight, his eyes narrowed in frustration, but there was something else there, too—something you hadn’t expected: vulnerability.

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. After a few more seconds of Willa’s crying, he finally broke the silence.

“Maybe I could try,” he offered, his voice a bit softer, tentative.

You were surprised at the offer. You’d never seen Rafe with kids—never even imagined him with a child this young. But there was something in the way he said it, a quiet desperation, that made you nod.

“Yeah. Try.” You handed Willa to him, careful not to jostle her too much as she continued to wail. She was still kicking her legs, her face scrunched up in distress.

Rafe hesitated for just a second before adjusting her in his arms, awkwardly holding her against his chest. His expression was uncertain, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with this tiny person who was now his responsibility.

“Hey, Willa,” Rafe said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle. “It’s okay. You’re safe. We got you.”

He bounced her lightly, just enough to make her feel the rhythm of his movements. For a moment, nothing changed. Willa’s cries didn’t soften, but Rafe didn’t seem to mind. His focus was entirely on her, like he was determined to make it work.

You watched him for a moment, trying not to show your surprise. You didn’t think you’d ever see Rafe in this light. The way he moved, the way he spoke to Willa—there was something different in his tone, something real.

But the crying didn’t stop. Willa’s cries just seemed to escalate, as though she was testing him, testing you both.

Rafe gritted his teeth, adjusting his hold on her again, more firmly this time. “Alright, little one,” he muttered under his breath, his voice still trying to stay calm despite the rising frustration. "We’re gonna get this right. I swear."

He then shifted, trying a different approach, gently patting her back. He’d seen Sarah do it before, you knew, but it still felt foreign coming from him.

You, not sure what else to do, knelt beside him, trying to be as calm and soothing as possible. You placed a hand gently on Willa’s leg. “Shh… Willa, sweetie, it’s okay,” you cooed, matching Rafe’s rhythm.

And then, something unexpected happened. Slowly, gradually, Willa’s cries began to soften. Her body stopped wriggling as much, her little fists loosened. It wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t magic, but her wails started to turn into quiet sobs, then sniffling, then, finally, she rested her head against Rafe’s chest.

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

"See?" you said softly, your heart still racing. "I told you it was just a moment."

Rafe, his face still a bit tense but now with a faint trace of relief, looked down at Willa. Her eyelids fluttered as she finally, finally, drifted off to sleep.

“I don’t get it,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I tried everything, but... she calms down when you do that. When we’re both here.”

You shrugged, feeling the exhaustion in your own body. “Sometimes... it just takes both of us. Babies are unpredictable.” You didn’t know what else to say, because, truth be told, you didn’t really understand it either. But you knew one thing for sure—despite your differences, despite the chaos, this was something you could do together.

Rafe shifted his weight, still holding Willa carefully. “Thanks,” he said quietly, as if he hadn’t just gone through a whirlwind of frustration. It was brief, but there was sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t think... I mean, I wasn’t sure I could handle this.”

You glanced up at him, and for the first time in a long time, you saw something different in his eyes—something that wasn’t defiance or anger, but something closer to gratitude.

“You’re not alone in this,” you said softly. “We’ll figure it out, one step at a time.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The house had fallen into a strange stillness after Willa finally settled into bed, her little form bundled up in the crib, tucked in for the night. The hours of chaos, the endless crying, the uncertainty—it had all melted into a tense kind of quiet that felt almost too heavy to breathe through. You and Rafe were both exhausted, physically and emotionally, but the weight of the situation hadn’t lightened one bit.

You leaned against the counter in the kitchen, your fingers wrapped around a mug of warm tea, trying to find some semblance of calm. The silence was comforting in a way, but also suffocating. You and Rafe hadn’t exchanged many words since Willa had fallen asleep. There had been a brief moment where you’d both sat at the kitchen table, exhausted, sipping coffee in silence, but now it felt like the quiet was pressing in from all sides.

Rafe was standing by the window, his arms crossed, looking out into the darkened yard. He had been quiet for a while, but you could feel his presence like a weight in the room. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.

"You know," he began, his voice low but firm. "I’ve been thinking. Maybe it would be better if you just moved in here."

You froze, your fingers tightening around the mug in your hands. "What?" You turned to face him, the surprise evident in your voice. "What are you talking about? Why would I—"

He cut you off, not giving you a chance to react. "Look, we’re both her guardians now, right? I get it—you have your life, your job, but you can’t keep going back and forth between here and the café. Willa needs us both, and we both need to be there for her."

You blinked, trying to process his words. "That’s... a huge thing to suggest, Rafe." You shook your head, stepping away from the counter, moving to the other side of the room. "You think it’s easy for me? You think I don’t have a life outside of this? I’ve got my job, my own responsibilities. I can’t just—move in here."

He turned, his gaze sharp as he watched you. "I’m not saying it would be permanent, but Willa... she’s not going to be okay if we’re both stressed out all the time. You’re already running yourself ragged. This way, you wouldn’t have to go back and forth. You could be here when she needs you, and you wouldn’t have to worry about missing shifts or running out of time."

You felt your pulse quicken, frustration creeping in. "You don’t get it, do you? It’s not just about time. This is my life, Rafe. I’m not just going to—what?—move in with you? Because that’s what you think is best?"

Rafe’s face hardened. "It’s not about what I think is best, [Y/N]. It’s about what Willa needs. You think it’s easy for me, either? I didn’t sign up for this. But here we are, and we both have to step up. We both have to make sacrifices."

Your breath hitched, your voice shaking with the weight of it all. "You think I haven’t thought about that? But this isn’t just about ‘stepping up,’ Rafe. This is about our lives. You can’t just dictate how things are going to work because you suddenly want to play house. I’m not some—"

"Not some what?" he snapped, cutting you off, his jaw tightening as his temper flared. "You think I’m asking for you to live with me because it’s some great idea? I’m trying to help you. You can’t keep doing this alone, and neither can I."

You felt a sting of anger rise in your chest, the frustration of everything spilling out. "I don’t need you to help me, Rafe. I don’t need you to fix everything. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for any of this!"

There was a long, painful silence that hung between you both, a tension that had been building ever since that damn phone call, and now, it seemed like it might tear everything apart.

Rafe exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging slightly as the heat of his anger cooled into something more complicated, more raw. "I’m not trying to fix everything," he muttered, his voice quieter now, laced with frustration. "I’m just trying to do the right thing. I didn’t ask for any of this, either, but I can’t keep pretending it’s just going to work if we’re both barely holding on. You need help. I need help."

Your heart ached at the words, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw the cracks in his armor, the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide. But you pushed it aside, unwilling to let the floodgates open.

"I don’t need you, Rafe," you repeated, more firmly now. "I need to figure out how to do this on my own. We’re both her guardians, but I’m not going to make this—whatever this is—worse by complicating it. I can’t just move in here and pretend like that makes everything better."

His face tightened, the walls going back up, the Rafe you knew slipping behind his defenses. "Fine," he said, his voice flat. "Then keep living your life. Keep juggling it all, and see how far that gets you."

You shook your head, your words coming out in a rush. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t care? I care, Rafe. But this isn’t just about what’s easiest for you, or me, or anyone else. It’s about Willa. And right now, she needs more than just two people fighting over what’s best for her. She needs stability. She needs peace."

Rafe was silent for a long moment, the tension still thick in the room. His eyes flickered to the hallway where Willa’s room was, the soft rise and fall of her tiny chest visible through the crack of the door. His face softened for just a fraction of a second, but then he steeled himself again.

"Yeah," he said, his voice quieter now, though there was still a trace of frustration. "She needs peace. And maybe you’re right. Maybe this isn’t the right call." He turned his back to you, his body tense as if he was still holding onto something you couldn’t see.

You felt your anger begin to ebb, replaced by a quiet weariness that settled deep in your chest. You wanted to argue more, to fight for your space, for your independence. But the truth was, Rafe’s idea, crazy as it seemed, did make some sense. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to agree.

You stayed silent, the space between you growing more and more uncomfortable, until Rafe finally broke the stillness.

"I guess we’ll just have to figure it out, huh?" he said, his voice distant.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if you were agreeing with him—or just acknowledging the mess you’d both gotten into.

"Yeah," you whispered. "I guess so."

And for the first time in a long time, the silence between you both wasn’t just filled with tension. It was filled with uncertainty.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 

It had been weeks since the argument, weeks since you and Rafe had first clashed over what was best for Willa, what was best for the two of you. You’d spent those weeks bouncing between your place, Rafe’s, and the café, and with each passing day, it was becoming more and more clear that you couldn’t keep it up. You were running on fumes, your mind spinning with the constant demands of work, the responsibilities of being Willa’s guardian, and the weight of your personal life crumbling under the strain.

You couldn’t do it anymore.

It was a quiet morning when you finally made the decision. The sun had barely risen, casting a soft, golden glow across the living room of your small house. You hadn’t been home in days, had barely slept in your own bed. Willa was still adjusting to the routine, and the nights at Rafe’s were becoming more frequent. The constant back and forth was wearing you down.

You stood at the kitchen counter, staring at the coffee mug in your hand, the warmth barely reaching you. It was still early, and the sound of Rafe’s truck hadn’t yet filtered through the house. But today, you had to make it right.

You had to admit you couldn’t juggle it all.

The idea of moving in had been haunting you for days, but admitting it was another thing entirely. Rafe’s offer wasn’t just about practicality—it was about more than that. About Willa, about what you and Rafe were going to have to become for her. You’d been resisting it, pushing it away because it felt like giving up control of your life. But you knew you couldn’t keep going on this way.

And so, you made your decision.

When Rafe finally walked through the front door a few hours later, his presence filled the space like it always did—big, heavy, almost too much to ignore. He didn’t say anything at first, just kicked off his boots and moved to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water before leaning against the counter, his gaze flickering over to you.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low but not unkind.

You set your mug down, taking a deep breath before you spoke. “I’ve been thinking,” you said, your voice steady but with an undercurrent of hesitation. “And I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep bouncing between my place, yours, and work. It’s... it’s too much.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed slightly. “So what does that mean?”

You met his gaze, the weight of what you were about to say pressing down on you. “I’m going to move in. I can’t juggle all of this alone. But there are some conditions.”

Rafe tilted his head, his eyes narrowing just slightly in curiosity. “Conditions?” he echoed, a hint of skepticism in his voice. “Like what?”

You took a breath and laid it out, clear and firm. “First, I’m not giving up my job at the café. I need that. I need a space where I can breathe and do something for myself. I’m going to be there on my shifts, but I won’t be running myself into the ground. So, we need to find a rhythm that works. I can’t just be at home all day, every day. I have my own life, too.”

Rafe nodded slowly, processing the first part. “Okay. Makes sense.” He crossed his arms, waiting for the rest.

“Second,” you continued, your voice unwavering. “I’m not going to just be a ‘housewife’ or whatever. I need to be treated as an equal, I’m her legal guardian too, not some babysitter. I’ll help with Willa, but I can’t take on the full load. If we’re doing this, we’re both sharing it.”

Rafe didn’t argue with that. He gave a slight nod, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were preparing for the next condition.

“And third,” you added, stepping forward, your gaze never leaving his. “We set some boundaries. This is for Willa. We’re doing this for her, but I’m not moving in here for any other reason. We need to keep things professional—for her sake. I’m not moving in here just to... make things weird.” You paused, feeling the tension rise between you. “If we’re doing this, it’s for Willa. Nothing more, nothing less.”

There was a long silence between you two as Rafe absorbed your words. He was silent for a moment, then exhaled through his nose, a sound of reluctant agreement. “Fair enough,” he said. “I can deal with that. We both need to be in this equally. No one person doing more than the other.” He glanced over at you, a little more seriously now. “And about the boundaries... I’m not trying to make this any more complicated than it has to be. I get it. You’re here to help with Willa, and I’m not going to make that weird.”

It was strange, the way things were shifting between you both. There was a subtle shift in his tone, something closer to understanding. As much as Rafe might have wanted to fight you on it, you knew he respected the fact that you were being clear about your limits.

“So, what now?” he asked, breaking the silence. “You move in today?”

You nodded. “Yeah. But, you’ll have to help me get my stuff together. I’m not just leaving everything behind, Rafe.” You allowed a small, almost imperceptible smile to tug at the corner of your lips. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

Rafe smirked, the tension breaking between you two for the first time in weeks. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll help. Just don’t expect me to pack your clothes.”

You laughed quietly, feeling the weight on your chest lift just a little. “I don’t need you to pack my clothes. I just need you to be... not a pain in the ass while I get settled in.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “No promises there.”

You shook your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. It was a step in the right direction, you told yourself. A step toward figuring out how to make this new life work.

Maybe it wasn’t going to be easy. Maybe it would take time, patience, and more compromises than you had ever imagined. But one thing was clear: you couldn’t do this on your own. And maybe, just maybe, with Rafe by your side, you could figure out what it meant to be a family, even if it wasn’t the family you’d ever expected.

With a deep breath, you took the first step.

"Alright," you said. "Let’s go get my stuff."

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[ellieslittlewh0re]

OIL & WATER - VI X CAIT

pair - Vi x Caitlyn (arcane)

synopsis - years had gone by, Caitlyn was the chief of police and vi was, well, vi was too busy living in the past. Something about an illegal fighting pit was brought to Cait’s attention, and she decided to check it out. What she didn’t expect was to see her ex girlfriend there, and not only that, she was one of the champions.

tags - NOT SPOILERS!!! smut, blood mentioned, switch vi, switch cait, pussy & ass eating, fingering, humping, kinda sad idk

It was humid that night, and the air felt more dense down here than on topside, fumes from surrounding factories making it hard to breathe.

Caitlyn had her reasons for being in the lanes tonight. It was brought to her attention earlier in the month, some commotion surrounding pit fighting.

As far as she’s aware though, it had nothing to do with shimmer, Jinx or Silco’s still very much active posey, even in death, that being said, she couldn’t give less of a fuck, but being chief and all, the least she could do is check it out.

Thankfully, or maybe not depending on who you ask, the tips she was fed were right, and this wasn’t a complete waste of time.

It was an unassuming location, tall, but fit right into the neighboring buildings, wedged between the two and countless others that stretched out into a narrow maze.

As she stood, waiting, watching, the dim light outside flickered a green haze as she observed the people leaving and entering- consistent and rough, definitely the type of place she should’ve brought backup for.

But, as stated previously, she didn’t give a shit.

She started to walk towards the door, pulling the jacket tighter to her chest, and kept her head low. She wasn’t in her uniform, and tried the best to wear something to make her fit in, but her memory of the fashion down here was a little hazy.

She entered, heavy mental blaring loudly over the many speakers, the crowd even louder.

A man’s voice louder than the rest came over the intercom, the reverb making it hard to distinguish, but the crowd seemed to understand, and they liked what they were hearing.

As she continued further into the building towards the center where the action seemed to be, she stumbled, a hard shoulder trusting into hers.

“Fuckin’ watch it.” The man spat as Cait held her arm, his gold teeth flashing.

She definitely didn’t belong here.

Luckily for her, the man continued on without it escalating further than a scowl on his face and insults muttered under his breath.

Or maybe he’s the one who’s lucky.

She approached the buildings sunken center, doors on either side of the pit opening, and more incoherent yells coming from the announcer and the crowd as it was time for the show to start.

On the left, a large man, freakishly large, his mouth open, and face red as he yelled into the crowd, fists raised up high.

“Jesus”, Cait shuddered in thought, holding the edge of her hoodie by the side of her face, shielding her profile from those in close proximity.

Caitlyn’s mind raced as she absorbed the environment around her, surely, no sane person would go against him, or if they did, they didn’t plan on leaving here tonight alive, which was the only conclusion that seemed logical to her.

She stared at the other door, pitch dark on the other side, and waited for the opponent, but seconds passed and no one showed.

Maybe he chickened out? That wouldn’t be totally irrational.

Caits vision shifts to the man in the ring as he circled around, his fists banging on the metal walls like he was in an adrenaline induced rage, yells from the impatient crowd only fueling it.

But that’s when the man stops yelling, a stone cold expression taking over as he looked to the other side of the pit.

Her eyes followed to where he stared.

The second champion had arrived.

It wasn’t a man at all, but a woman, hair jet black, and smudged makeup around her eyes and down her cheeks to match.

Cait couldn’t help the way her jaw slightly dropped, a fastening in her breath that also went unnoticed at this time.

They stood far apart on either side of the pit, circling around each other like they were waiting to see who would lunge first.

The man was clearly impatient, itching to land a hit on the women, whereas the woman was more composed- serious, but ready, holding her fists out in front of her, blood already soaking through the bandages around them.

Does she fight here often?

Was this even her first fight of the night?

Cait had many more questions and that woman could be the key to answering them.

A bell rings out, and the man doesn’t waste a second to fling himself across the pit, but just as his fists are about to connect, the woman dodges, avoiding his advances, and lands a blow to the center of his stomach.

He falters. It was slight but noticeable, not just to the crowed but to the women as well.

She uses this to her advantage, and lands another fist to his face, blood now smearing the side of his jaw.

This angered the man, causing him to lash out, and an eagerness to connect his tight fist to her body, but that’s where he fucked up.

She was smaller than him by a long shot and lighter too, one second she was there, centimeters away from feeling his wrath, and the next she was both behind him and somehow, also, one step ahead.

It was almost unlike anything Caitlyn has ever seen, but it reminded her of someone.

Cait continued to observe, eyes glued to the mystery fighter, and didn’t dare look away.

It’s like she was toying with him. At many times, she could’ve ended it, but didn’t, instead she’d let him get up only to send him flat on his face again.

It was equally impressive as it was terrifying, and if Caitlyn wasn’t a police officer sent to scope out the place, she’d be offering her respects to the woman.

To Cait, it couldn’t have been more than a 5 minute fight, like it was over before it even started.

But in the same breath, she saw it all so vividly, a slow motion picture that she could’ve described in agonizing detail.

The dark haired woman celebrated, her fists high up in the air and her teeth baring, the crowd sound colliding like a mixture of both celebrations and defeats.

Finally being able to put a face to the voice over the speaker, Caitlyn watched as the man, microphone still in hand, greeted the women in the pit, and held her and up by her wrist, the crowd chanting something that she couldn’t quite comprehend- A name of sorts, not a real one, but a stage name.

She was known here, that much was obvious, and based on her performance tonight, it’s no surprise.

The woman was handed what looked to be a satchel of money before she turned her back towards the crowd, and disappeared back into the dark from which she came.

In Caitlyn’s awe, she almost forgot why she was there in the first place- to gather information, and the one who she wanted to talk to was no longer in her sights.

She lets go of the railing, fingers slightly stiff from how hard she had gripped it during the fight, and leaves the building.

Once outside, Cait searched for the mystery woman, narrowing her eyes down the outstretched alleyways, but it was like she really had disappeared without a trace, in fact, almost no one was around.

Caitlyn should’ve left. Should’ve called it a night, and come back around the same time next week in hopes she’d see the woman again, but all logic seemed to slip from Cait’s mind.

Instead, she rounds the building, and walks down an even narrower corridor towards the back of the building, looking for another exit the women could’ve slipped out of.

Part of her didn’t expect to see her again, but she did.

The woman was about 50 feet away, walking with her back towards Caitlyn, the patch on the back of her leather jacket only noticeable as she passed under the sparse lightning.

Cait’s hands slipped into her pockets, head low, and kept at a safe distance as she began following the woman.

She could be dangerous for all Cait knows. And usually, Cait would think things like this through before doing something as stupid as following a stranger home in a territory that’s mostly unfamiliar to her.

But it’s not like she was going to engage with the women, not tonight anyway, and certainly not alone.

Sometimes, some things go well beyond your control, chief of police or not.

The woman once again disappears from Cait’s sight as she turns the corner up ahead, and Caitlyn uses this time to close the gap by picking up her pace.

As she rounded the corner, she pauses, confusion in her face once she realized the woman was gone.

Caitlyn continued anyway, thinking the woman had lived in the area, and she had simply turned off into one of the many smaller alleyways.

The heel of her boot rang a hallow clunk in the otherwise still surroundings as she stepped forward, a faint scuff being heard from behind just as she was about to take another.

“Who the fuck are you, and why are you following me?”

Cait freezes, slowly bringing her hands up to submit to whatever violence was about to pursue, but still didn’t answer the voice coming from behind.

Even her voice was familiar.

“Are you seriously going to make me ask you again?”

Cait could tell her silence only angered the women more, but she didn’t really think ahead enough to come up with a cover story in case something like this were to happen because she wasn’t supposed to fucking engage tonight.

“I- I’m a fan.” Caitlyn finally speaks, and god, did she feel stupid.

“What?”

“I saw you fight tonight. I’m a fan.”

This was Caitlyn giving it her all- a lie disguised as a genuine excuse for following her, but maybe that’s not all it was.

And this was also about the time the woman knew that this wasn’t just some random stranger.

“Caitlyn?”

Cait’s hands slowly descended back to her sides as she turns, coming face to face with the woman.

It took her a second, and in hindsight, it was so obvious- the fighting, and how she moved-

“Violet?”

They both stood there at a loss for words, and memories of the past on replay, their eyes being the projector.

There was a silence between the two, but there was so much being said in that silence, but none of it seemed to matter right now.

Cait’s eyes glanced down, noticing the droplets of blood on the cobblestone at Vi’s feet.

“You’re bleeding.”

Vi holds up her hand, the white of the gauze no longer visible from her wrist down.

She sighs, her chest noticeably falling deeper.

“Go home, Cait.”

Caitlyn watches in bitter suit agony as Vi turns away from her, leaving her behind, and it’s like she was right back in the place, her mother dead and Vi nowhere to be seen or heard from again.

“I can’t.”

Vi pauses, glancing back over her shoulder, and waited for an explanation that didn’t look like was coming.

Cait looks elsewhere, the floor, walls, the light post a few feet away… anywhere except for Vi, which is ironic because that’s the only thing she wanted to look at.

She stumbles over words, and opened her mouth before she shuts it again.

It’s been awhile since Cait has felt like this- so unsure and out of control, even lying, which isn’t out of the ordinary for her job, but it was never her taste.

She was desperate. Hurt.

It was a job turned personal, and she wanted answers.

“You’re under investigation. I’m going to have to ask some questions.”

Cait sounded like it didn’t phase her, professional and cold- like it totally didn’t make her want to crawl inside her skin and die, but that was far from the truth.

She hated this reunion, or more specifically, she hated how how often she thought about this day happening- the day she’d finally see her again, and this was never how it played out in her head.

“Really?” Vi scoffs a laugh, half turning to face her, “Now?”

All Caitlyn could do was nod, she didn’t dare trust the ever growing lump in her throat.

This isn’t how Vi thought it would go either, never wanting to be on the other end of Cait’s authority, well… not like this anyway. But at this point, Vi had nothing to lose, and she’d take whatever Caitlyn gave her.

Vi’s hands stung, sticky bandages clinging to open wounds as she shoved them into her jackets pockets.

“We can talk at my place. It’s just up there.”

She nodded her head in the direction further up the street, and started walking before Cait could suggest something else or resist altogether, but even in Cait’s sanest mind, she wouldn’t dare.

Caitlyn, against her better judgment and years of police training, followed Vi, but the thought of this being a set up also crossed her mind.

And almost, as if on cue, Vi looks over her shoulder, pulling a set of keys out of her back pocket.

“We’re here.”

She proceeds to lead Cait up a steep set of stairs, metal bars crumbling to rust under Cait’s hand as she approached the second story apartment, still keeping the idea of it being a set up in the back of her mind.

It was dark. Dingy. A polar opposite to what Caitlyn was used to.

Bottles littered the floor, some empty- most empty, others at varying levels of emptiness, and a small bed shoved into the corner.

As nonchalantly as Cait could, she looks around at the cramped space, and Vi did what she always did upon coming home- grabbing one of the said half empty bottles, and sat on the edge of her bed, taking heavy swigs between labored breaths.

Vi’s forearms rested on bent knees, only moving from this position to take another swig as blood continued to leak from her knuckles.

“You wanna talk so talk.”

Again, another sip, and a gash from Vi’s eyebrow that hadn’t been noticed before started to bleed, a thin trail of crimson flowing down the side of her face.

A bitter taste filled Caitlyn’s mouth, lingering resentment she thought she was well past rising to the surface.

“So this is what you’ve been up to?” Cait scoffs out, sounding somehow even more bitter than she’d ever expected, immediately wishing to take it back.

Vi either didn’t hear or she was pretending that Cait’s words weren’t like a fucking dagger to her heart, taking a final swig before setting the bottle aside.

She began unwrapping the bandages, her lip slightly twitching as the fabric peeled from open skin, and as much as she tried to keep her pain hidden from Cait, it wasn’t working.

Caitlyn kneels to the ground, and pulls out a handkerchief with some fancy emblem sewed into the corner.

“Here. You’re going to bleed more if you keep shaking like that.”

She grabs Vi by the wrist, holding her still, and started dabbing the area clean.

It was so gentle. Cautious. Almost healing upon contact.

It’s been so long since Vi had been handled with such care. The last time also being Caitlyn right before shit hit the fan.

It was against everything in Vi’s nature to let someone else care for her, but this time, she found it impossible to refuse.

“I thought you were here to arrest me, not play doctor.” Vi hisses, the plain cloth now dosed in the high proofed liquor she had just been drinking, and it definitely being on purpose on Caitlyn’s behalf.

“I’m not going to arrest you, Violet. I told you, I just had some questions.”

Vi’s eyes rolled, a huff passing her lips, “So why aren’t you asking them?”

Caitlyn thought for a moment, and moved to be seated next to Vi, using firm grip with her index and thumb on Vi’s chin to move her head to the side, and started to clean the cut to her eyebrow.

“How long have you been fighting there?”

She asked, or more so demanded, really playing into the scary cop archetype, but that clearly wasn’t the case as she cleaned away at the girls soon to be scar.

Again, Vi winced, trying to pull away from the burning sensation on her eyebrow, but Cait wouldn’t let her get far.

“Dunno. A few months, half a year… Maybe more.” Vi answers, although not very helpful, and she knew it too.

Vi knows exactly how long it had been, not necessarily the fighting, but how long it had been since she’d seen Cait, just so happened they were one and the same.

Caitlyn’s hand lingered a little longer than needed, after noticing (and hoping Vi didn’t) she pulls away.

“Who runs the operation?”

Cait looks over her shoulder after a few seconds of no reply, only to see Vi lying down on the mattress, and her eyes hidden behind her arm that was draped across her face.

Vi chuckled, a half hearted one at that. Her canines flashing briefly, “Why would I tell you that?”

She moved to her elbows, resting her weight on them, and looked to Cait who seemed to be a bit distracted.

Could be because something that has never happened to her just happened- not getting her way, or in this case, not getting her questions answered, but it wasn’t that.

She was distracted by the sudden intimacy. Both of them being so close on a bed, dim lighting just adding to the heightened senses, and she was distracted by Violet herself. Sure, it’s the worse Cait had ever seen the girl, including the time she was stabbed and bleeding out. But it was different. She looked stronger, more mature, and all the exposed skin that Caitlyn wasn’t used to seeing was no longer hidden away due to the limited coverage of her chest bindings.

And it certainly didn’t help that whenever Cait was near her, even back then, the tension was suffocating.

Vi has lost a lot before this moment, but now, it’s Caitlyn’s turn to lose.

Caitlyn joins Vi, and mimicked her position on the bed, fingers interlocked over her stomach as silence crept in.

They both stared ahead at the cracked, flaky ceiling, a silent mental game to see who would look at the other first, but Violet was especially weak in that field.

“Is this really why you came? To ask questions about the pit?”

Vi asks, sounding so small, so quiet like regardless like of what the answer was, the idea of it possibly leading to something bigger terrified the girl.

Caitlyn turned to face Vi, tucking an arm under her head.

To Vi, it felt too good to be true to be with Cait like this like that one time all those years ago when things were ever so slightly easier. On nights where she’d had gotten too drunk too fast, and too alone, she’d fall asleep to that memory, but now, it felt like a lifetime had passed since then, and neither of them resembled who they used to be.

“I was just checking it out and then I saw you fight…” Caitlyn trails off, and her eyes squeezed shut, letting more silence intrude, “I didn’t know it was you until you said something.”

Vi thinks for a moment, the pouding in her heart growing a little louder as Caitlyn turned onto her side to face the once pink haired girl.

Caitlyn speaks first, of course she did. Vi was too in her head, too anxious to engage a conversation without the promise of a stutter or slurry of pent up emotions all coming undone at once.

“I don’t care about the pit, Vi… never did.”

Caitlyn’s body tightens, arms cradling around herself as she didn’t dare look Vi in the eyes.

In a way, it was a confession, an apology. A way of saying that even though a lot of time has passed, things done that shouldn’t have been allowed, and words spoken that never should have, she still always thought of her.

“Then why are you here now and not then?”

Caitlyn fills with dread. Every ounce of that question felt like she was being faced with all her regrets because the truth is, she didn’t have an answer. It was everything and nothing all at once, an endless loop of what felt like excuses.

This is when Cait finally looks up, meeting the icy blue of Vi’s eyes that seemed a whole lot dimmer than what she remembered.

“I thought that’s what you wanted… for me to stay away. I thought it would be… easier.”

Caitlyn couldn’t have sounded more guilty, more afraid by an impeding reaction. But Vi isn’t like her.

“Do you still think it’s easier?”

Vi asked, a humor hidden behind obvious hurt that it wasn’t the explanation she wanted, but she’d happily take, reaching a hand out a little further on the mattress between them, praying Cait would take the bait.

And Caitlyn did.

First, it was hand on hand, then fingers intertwined, and breathing fastened.

It was the hardest decision she ever had to make, but the question had gone completely forgotten as hand touches turned into opened mouth kisses, and Caitlyn’s fingers wrapped up in the longer layers of Vi’s hair as she climbed on top.

Vi’s hands were on Cait’s back, running along the length of it, and in the divot of her spine- feeling, reeling the shape of her, memorizing every detail in a matter of seconds in case this was just another “easy” decision on Caitlyn’s behalf.

But there was also no way in hell Vi was going to make the same mistake twice.

“Say you mean it.” Vi mumbled between the kisses to Caitlyn’s chest, ridding her of her jacket just moments prior.

“What?”

Caitlyn’s confusion didn’t stop there as Vi hooked an arm across her back, maneuvering them both with ease so that Cait was underneath her.

There was an eagerness- a lack of regard that Caitlyn felt from this position- the familiarity of it, and what it has led to in the past like a drug that you worked so hard to rid yourself of just for it all to crumble in an instant when laid out in front of you- or in this case, on top of you.

“Say you mean this.”

Vi’s tone emphasizes, and in any other context, it could've come off as demanding or harsh, but right now, it was unmistakably desperate.

Vi’s eyes lock onto Cait’s as she lowers her head down, her tongue connecting with the hot flesh across Cait’s lower stomach.

A hum is pulled from Caitlyn’s lips- subtle but there, and Vi took it as permission, hooking her long fingers into the waistband of Caitlyn’s pants and proceeded to pull them down just enough to see how far the lace of Caitlyn’s black panties went, which to Vi’s surprise, went pretty far- all the way type far.

She thought she was going to make Caitlyn work for it. Beg for a touch, a feel, a taste… Some sort of payback was expected, but that was before the kiss, or the way Caitlyn looked at her, and definitely before Vi got a hint of her taste through the lace.

“I mean it-“ Caitlyn stutters, her head falling a little heavier against the mattress as Vi’s mouth envelops Caitlyn from down below, lace heavying with the spit-precum mixture.

Whether Caitlyn meant it or it was just another empty promise to get what she wanted didn’t matter to Vi. She needed it just as much as Caitlyn did- the orgasm, the empty promise, either would suffice when your reality is beating the shit out of people before they could beat you up first, and drinking until the term “blackout drunk” didn’t seem like it was enough.

Before Vi, or Caitlyn for that matter, could think about the consequences or the impending repeated heartbreak that would come from this, Vi slipped the few inches from the bed to the floor. Her knees clashed against the cold concrete, pulling Cait along with an arm wrapped under her thigh and her other hand busy, an index finger hooking the small patch of cotton where Caitlyn’s pussy was previously hidden behind, pulling it to the side.

“Holy shit… I’ve missed you.” Vi exhaled, unsure if the statement was directed at Caitlyn herself or the part of Cait that Vi’s face was centimeters away from.

Vi continued slow licks, bring her head up every so often to more closely observe Caitlyn’s movements- the rise of her chest, the soft mews and almost wines of contempt when Vi would stop, even if it was only for a few seconds.

She showed incredible restraint, not because of the payback that she promised herself she’d get, but because she wanted to make it last, savor it, but Caitlyn on the other hand wasn’t as sentimental.

“Stop-“ Caitlyn starts but is cut off. A slight clench in her jaw as she winces, and a stinging sensation spreading high on her inner thigh where Vi’s teeth bit down.

“stop teasing.”

Vi tongue slid across the freshly made mark, soothing it before looking up, and meeting a less than enthusiastic Cait.

She chuckles, a quick breath leaving her nostrils, “Oh? You don’t like how I do it?”

Vi’s teeth flash, and the corner of her lip upturned.

Maybe this was her payback.

“Show me how you want it then.”

Caitlyn stared for a second before moving, a split decision that showcased just how fragile her patience truly was.

She gets up, hand and knees on the mattress, and held a hand out for Vi to take, which she does.

Cait pulls her onto the bed, putting her hands on the front of Vi’s shoulders as she climbs on top to straddle her waist.

Vi in all of this was a little starstruck, going along with whatever Caitlyn wanted even if it meant imminent death, but luckily for her, that seemed like a far off possibility right now.

Caitlyn reaches behind to unclasp her bar, letting the straps fall naturally down her arms before tossing it the short amount of distance to the floor, and Vi did her best to not stare, but old habits die hard.

Instead of a witty remark on Caitlyn’s behalf about “having some dignity” or “my eyes are up here” she welcomed the attention, even encouraged Vi to go beyond just looking, but Vi didn’t need the extra incentive.

Her hands danced along the sides of Caitlyn’s torso, squeezing her smallest parts with the cuts and scraps long forgotten before they reached her breasts.

She cupped them, letting the natural curve guide her fingers, and didn’t stop until Caitlyn leans forward to kiss her.

First, it was slow, pecks overlapping into drawn out kisses before tongues intertwined into a maze with no beginning or end, and hands cradling, holding parts of each other that have been neglected of touch for far too long.

For Caitlyn, it was nice at first to have this and nothing else, but the itch was building into a painful rupture, and Vi wasn’t far behind.

Cait’s hand glided down Vis stomach, fingers curling over the ridges of her prominent abs until they’re forced to a stop by the heavy hardware of Vi’s pants.

“Can I?” She whispered against Vi’s lips, heavy breathing filling the momentary silence before an answer could be spoke, but it wouldn’t take long.

With permission granted, Caitlyn lowers herself to mirror Vi position from just a few minutes before, undoing the buckle, and with the help of Vi, she pulls the ripped, dark denim from her legs.

As soon at the warmth of Cait’s mouth became the only thing Vi could feel, a tear was almost shed- gratitude or the longing for things to stay like this forever had become overwhelming even for a girl like Vi.

Vi’s hands reached, fingers intertwining with the dark blue hair that flowed loosely around Caitlyn’s face, a total opposite to the tight updo Cait had worn not even 20 minutes ago, now having a slight wave to its usual unbending pattern.

“Fuck, Cait-“ Vi groaned, swallowing it down as she bit her lip. “-I’m gonna cum.”

Already? But Caitlyn just started?

Maybe her first impression of Vi after the time apart had failed her. Surely, she had different girls in and out of this room, sometimes more than one in a single day, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

Cait eased up, applying less pressure, and only allowing the lightest of touches to Vi’s clit before stopping all together to tempt a finger inside.

“Oh fuck-“

Vi tried sitting up to look at Caitlyn, a plummet in strength as Caitlyn’s knuckle disappears inside, and shortly after, another finger was added.

Cait continued like this- in and out, slow, agonizingly slow at first, pulling all the way out, before stuffing her full, over and over again she did this until she picked up speed.

The light pressure of Caitlyn’s lips on Vi’s inner thighs proved to be little distraction to the pressure building deep inside Vi’s stomach, but seemed to be more effective when Cait’s lips reconnected to her clit.

Vi heaved, the bindings around her chest tightening even more as her chest rose deeply, and her whines softening into a delicate cry, which was a rare occasion for her.

But she was sensitive, starved, also didn’t help Cait happened to be quite the perfectionist, even in sex.

VI’s hands threw down, pressing on the back of Caitlyn’s head, and held her there with her hips rolling with the motion of Cait’s tongue, and without a minute to waste, Caitlyn’s mouth filled with her, over pouring until it was dripping down to the peak of her chin.

Despite the hard-hitting orgasm Vi just endured, it didn’t take long before she pulls Cait onto the bed, and with Cait’s mouth still glistening with Vi’s climax, she kisses her, tongue lodging itself deep into the back of Cait’s throat. As she’s doing this, she’s molding Caitlyn, putting her into position before she could process.

Vi’s hand is on the back of Caitlyn’s neck, kissing her deeper and deeper before she stops, a thin trail of spit breaking as Vi pulls away.

“Vi…” Caitlyn breaths, eyes glossy, and on the brink of tears as Vi’s hand trails along her spine, applying pressure.

“Do you trust me?” She whispered, maintaining eye contact as her lips grazed Caitlyn’s shoulder.

Caitlyn’s bottom lip is taken hostage for a brief moment between her teeth before releasing, giving a slight nod, but enthusiastic nonetheless.

Vi is brought to her knees, positioning herself behind Cait, and her hand on Caitlyn’s back lowering her down.

With cheeks squished against the mattress below and unable to see Vi directly, Caitlyn could do nothing but anticipate what’s to come, and because she couldn’t see Vi, the touches to her ass and inner thighs only felt amplified.

Now, this is where Vi hand all the power, all the time in the world to see Caitlyn how she’d often think about her in her dreams, specifically on nights where her hand couldn’t come close to ever being enough.

Her hand is dragged along Cait’s back, fallowing it all the way down to the space between Cait’s thighs, and cradled her cunt in the palm of her hand, letting the moisture soak through her skin.

With this little amount of pressure, Caitlyn pushes her hips back into Vi’s touch, the arch in her back deepening, and her cunt clenching at what’s to come.

Seeing how eager Caitlyn was for her touch, Vi had to feel it for herself, so she hooked the thin stitches of the laces with her fingers and pulled, and with a harsh, quick yank, it broke away from Cait’s hips.

Another whine is emitted as Caitlyn attempted to look back at Vi, who was lowering herself to be eye level with Cait’s lower set of lips, pulling her ass apart to more clearly see how much of a mess she was, even when she tried so hard to seem composed.

She licked, and licked, and licked. There wasn’t an inch of Caitlyn that hadn’t been touched by Vi’s tongue. They had no off-limits, and the term “gross” wasn’t even in their vocabulary. They had nothing to be embarrassed about when it was just them two, and Caitlyn is learning now that even after years apart, it’s still the same.

Even the lockjaw that was threatening Vi’s mouth didn’t stop her- her thumbs centered between Caitlyn’s thighs, physically holding her lips apart as she flexed inside her, pushing the hot muscle as deep as it could possibly go, Caitlyn’s muffled whines sounding a whole lot less muffled even with her face buried in the sheets.

That’s when Caitlyn found some strength- a mere ounce of it, and she used this strength to reach a hand behind in search of the only hand she wanted to hold.

She squeezed until her nails left indents on the back of Vi’s hand, and Vi knew she was close.

Vi narrowed in, working through the sore jaw and neck, squeezing the plush of Cait’s thighs until the skin around her pads turned white.

Caitlyn cursed as she came, and in the same breath, she also spoke Vi’s name so sweetly that it made up for the obscenities.

Vi could’ve stopped there, but what then?

Caitlyn would spend the night?

Move in?

One of those is more plausible than the other, but Vi didn’t like her chances.

As Caitlyn laid there, stomach flat to the bed, and her head resting on forearms, and seemingly trying to catch a breath, Vi crawled on top of her, bandagings coming loose as she lowers herself onto Cait, and kissed her across her shoulders.

It was sweet- possibly the most innocent form of physical touch, but that’s when Vi’s creeping hand continued to lowers itself until her wrist was snug between Caitlin’s ass.

VI’s head lowers, her bottom lip grazing Cait’s ear, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

Her breath is heavy, not from exhaustion or something similar. She was insatiable, greedy, and the guilt was loud for what she was about to do, but her hunger was louder.

“Okay..” Caitlyn responded, her eyes widening a bit as Vi’s hand grabbed the underside of her jaw to turn her face to feed Vi’s greedy lips once more, sinking two fingers inside.

A gasp disconnects them briefly as the full length of Vi’s fingers disappears inside but is quickly taken ahold of by Vi's greed once again, whose motion of her wrist was quickly growing in pace.

One orgasm had passed, then two…

Caitlyn cried out, all her strength exhausted as she squeezed at the forearm that was seat-belted across her chest, and Vi’s less busy hand ever so gently fitted around Cait’s neck, lightly applying pressure with her fingers to the sides.

It was so sweet- a little rough and almost sadistic if you noticed the details- the tear-stained sheets, the handling of Caitlyn’s lower half, but, overall, sweet and undeniably passionate.

As Caitlyn cried out- louder, and her voice on the brink of a scream, Vi face muzzles into the side of Cait’s cheek, and places a kiss to the tear-stain by her eye, catching the saltwater with her lips, “I wanted to marry you, did you know that?”

“You left, and I wanted to marry you. I still do.”

Again, Caitlyn was left unable to reply. She couldn’t form a sentence, nonetheless have a conversation of this degree.

So, instead, she says her name, a meek “vi” leaving her lips as she looks over her shoulder to look into her eyes.

“Please.”

Like clockwork, Vi did what she was asked, and kept a steady, consistent rhythm.

Sweat-drenched hair stuck to Caitlyn’s forehead, and her nails curling into Vi’s skin as her screams continued for a few more seconds, each time getting cut short as Vi’s fingers collided with her cervix until the fluid seeped out around Vi’s hand.

She retreats, and pulls out carefully to minimize Cait’s discomfort before lying on her back next to her, heavy breathing shared between the pair.

Vi didn’t speak. She couldn’t. This was her one opportunity to get her back- fix things to be how they were supposed to, and she fucked it all up by letting her emotions get out of hand.

It wasn’t even Vi’s problem to fix, Caitlyn left, not her, but it was in Vi’s nature to try.

Vi rolls into her side, hovering a hand over Caitlyn’s shoulder, hesitation upon not seeing her face.

“Cait?”

Her hand finally connected, a pit in her stomach starting to form, but quickly melted away as Caitlyn looks at her.

Vi knew that look, and she knew Caitlyn enough to know that not all is lost.

Caitlyn couldn’t promise it today, tomorrow, or even a year from now.

But until that day comes, no more year long absences and no more drowning in the ‘what could’ve beens’ of the past, but someday, when things are less fucked up, and they’re able to give each other the versions of themselves they used to be, there will always be a home waiting for them.

[frankenkyle19]

Unsupervised Tablet Time

Description: Kyle is on his tablet late at night. He somehow managed to get onto a porn sight, and found himself with a hard on. But you’d help him right? The only problem was? You were asleep

warnings: smut, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, a bit of a crazed Kyle at one point, he makes the reader touch him while she’s sleeping (or so he thinks, she’s not actually asleep), Kyle crying, tooth rotting fluff. (I didn’t mean to make this as fluffy as I did, but it’s Kyle and I couldn’t resist)

word count: 3k (woooo, I think this is the longest fic I’ve ever written)

Realistically it wasn’t his fault that he stumbled across porn while watching videos on his tablet. All it took was one click, one link and bam. 

He was sucked in. Completely enthralled. Eyes wide as he watched the two people move on screen, their noises muffled in his headphones as he watched, completely entranced. The way their bodies move against each other as the man rutted against the woman, thrusting into her at a harsh, unrelenting pace. Kyle had been so mesmerized by the video that he barely noticed the way his cock twitched in his pants, begging for some kind of relief.

He did finally realize though when he shifted from his criss cross applesauce position to relax more against the bed and his thigh brushed against his erection. He paused, blinking in confused curiosity as he carefully poked at his groin with his pointer finger. The sounds that were playing right into Kyle’s ears weren’t at all helping the situation. From the sound of slapping skin to the moans the girl was letting off. It sparked something inside him. 

He pawed at his clothed cock with a clumsy hand, a quiet, surprised groan coming from his lips. That felt good. But not enough. He needed more. More more more. 

Still though, it was late at night and he knew everyone was asleep, and even though he didn’t quite understand, he figured this isn't something you did around everyone. Even in his hazed state, he knew that he didn’t want to get caught. Maybe he should just go back to watching videos. 

He turned his attention back to the tablet, frowning as he saw the video had ended, but soon enough a bunch more popped up in recommendation and he clicked on one of them, excitedly watching, eyes flicking across the screen as the video loaded.

It started out with a woman lying across a bed, stark naked. She began touching herself and Kyle mewled, reaching out and touching the screen in a desperate attempt to touch the woman. He groaned in frustration at his failed attempt, eyebrows furrowed at the growing pressure in his pants that was becoming more and more uncomfortable.

His eyes were laser focused on the girl's cunt, his tongue lolling from his mouth again. He longed to bury his face between her thighs. It was like an instinct. Or a memory…He wasn’t sure.

Soon enough there was a bit more action on the screen, a man crawling on top of her as they began to passionately make out. Kyle copied the movements of their lips, looking as if he was kissing air, which looked quite odd if anywhere were to walk in the room. He was so curious about anything and everything. Maybe a little too much at times.

It got heated fast, and Kyle’s brain struggled to keep up. The camera panned to a different angle, a closer one. The man stroked his cock a few times before lining it up with the woman’s entrance, carefully pushing it into her. It was as if Kyle was the one shoving his cock into someone’s warm heat by the way he reacted. He let out a groan, hand flying to his pants as he squeezed his dick, possibly too hard. He didn’t like his hands. Didn’t like his touch. He was too clumsy. He needed something else and he was growing frustrated.

His tablet and headphones were soon abandoned on his bed as he stood up, very determined now to get some relief. He found a lot of comfort in you, so surely you would make him feel better, right? He had no clue that he could just take care of his ‘little’ issue himself. You did everything for him, so obviously you could do this too.

So he made his way to your room, creeping as carefully as his clumsily coordinated body could. He closed the door behind him, having some sense to be quiet and not to wake the others. When he found you asleep he frowned. He didn’t want to wake you, but at the same time he needed your help so bad. 

He took a seat on the edge of your bed, mouth drawn down into a pout as he thought long and hard about what he should do. He finally couldn’t stand it any longer and crawled up the bed beside you, being as quiet as possible, eyes widening every time the bed creaked. He reached under the covers for your hand and gently pulled it out, holding it in his own for a second. You were so warm. So much warmer than Kyle’s undead body, and your touch held so much comfort.

He carefully brought your hand down to the bulge in his pants, letting it rest there as he bucked up against it. A breathy whine slipped from his chapped lips as he blinked a few times, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he ground his hips up against your hand. 

Once he saw that you weren’t stirring, he got a bit bolder, trying to find a way to maneuver your hand into his pants, and much to his dismay, was unable to do so. He continued to grind against your hand, cock heavy and throbbing under the confines of his sweats and boxers. He scooted away from you a bit to try and slip his pants off clumsily, clunky hands grabbing at the waistband with a heavy grunt.

Little did Kyle know you’d woken quite a bit ago. Really the moment he sat on your bed, you just pretended to be asleep to see what he would do. To say you were surprised would be an understatement. Your sweet, innocent Kyle grinding desperately against your hand in the middle of the night? While he thought you were asleep?

Your face was covered in a bright pink blush, but luckily the darkness of the room hid it from view. Not that he’d really suspect anything if he saw it anyways. The poor boy was a bit clueless. 

You felt him shifting beside you, trying to shimmy out of his pants and you wanted to turn and face him, to press a kiss to his cold, but sweet undead lips. You weren’t sure what had gotten into him. He’d never acted like this before.

You nearly shouted in surprise as his broad arms wrapped around your frame, snuggling up beside your back, his now naked lower half resting against the curve of your ass. He grumbled something that you couldn’t understand before he began to carefully grind against you.

Your breathing picked up and you knew you only had two choices.

Stay here and let him get off like this 

Help him 

And how could you not help him? Still, you decided to wait a few more moments, because his desperate actions amused you just a bit. 

It was when he buried his face against the crook of your neck and began to nip at the skin, your breath hitched. 

“Mmmm-“ he groaned against your ear, unaware that the proximity and his volume could wake you, because he also wasn’t aware that you already were awake. Just sitting and biding your time.

He rutted a few more times against your ass before biting down particularly hard against your shoulder, surely leaving marks.

You couldn’t help but wince, shooting up into a sitting position which startled Kyle. His eyes were wide as he looked at you, slowly blinking as he tried his best to gauge your reaction. He seemed to tense, waiting for some sort of reprimanding, or even a slap. But neither came, and he relaxed a bit, his worried expression morphing into that same look of need and desperation. 

You gave him a gentle smile, carefully reaching out to cup his cheek. “Oh baby, what happened to get you so worked up?” You asked, although you knew he probably couldn’t find a way to respond. He huffed, eyebrows furrowing once more as his lips turned into a pout. He so badly wanted to talk to you. To really be able to explain, but he just couldn’t, and it drove him to near insanity.

He leaned his cheek into your touch, much like a puppy rubbing up against a person for affection. You let your other hand reach up to brush through his beautiful blond curls, a quiet content sigh falling from his slightly parted lips. 

He grew fidgety once more, moving around to try and get comfortable and that’s when you realized that his little issue wasn’t just going to resolve itself. He needed to find a way to take care of it, and by the looks of things, it seemed like you needed to help him. 

“Kyle, I’m going to help you, okay?” You said slowly and clearly, making sure he understood you before you continued.

He perked up instantly, eyes wide and full of anticipation for what was to come. More of you. More of your touch. More more more. Help. You were going to help him.

He followed your lead as you laid him back on the bed, his limbs like deadweight as you tried to position him in the way you wanted. He tried his best to help you, always having to concentrate extra hard to move certain parts of his body. It had to do with his mind and body connection, something that had been severely damaged when he was brought back. 

Once you had successfully positioned him on the bed, arms laid out at his sides and his thighs open wide, you smiled, looking down at him. He was only wearing his dark blue t-shirt, bottom half naked and quivering a bit. His body was in constant motion, never really being able to be fully still. It was always either his hands, or his legs… maybe his face, but it was guaranteed that some part of him was always in motion.

“Okay, I’m going to help you now, if you want me to stop… if you aren’t liking it, I’ll stop. You just have to use your words, okay?” He nodded with a smile, dimples appearing on his cheeks and you so badly just wanted to pinch them.

Settling in between his thighs, your hands dragged across his legs, getting him used to your touch and not just jumping right into jerking him off, not wanting to overwhelm him and potentially get a bad reaction out of him. You always had to take things slow with Kyle.

With an almost feather light touch, you carefully traced the head of his cock with your pointer finger, humming softly as you glanced up at him to see what his expression would be, truly having no idea how he’d react.

Instantly his legs were trying to buck up into the touch, wanting more. Needing more. God he needed so much more of you. All of you. 

With a thick, garbled groan, he looked at you with pleading eyes, urging you to go on. To do more.

And you did just that. You gingerly wrapped your hand around his hard, leaking cock, being careful not to squeeze too much and startle him. You wanted to slowly introduce him to the pleasure and be able to build it up if he did want more.

Kyle, for the first time since he’d come back to life, felt hot. His body felt like it was on fire. A big pit of hot coals settled deep in his stomach, threatening to bubble up. A sheen of sticky sweat covered his forehead as his breathing got heavier, his scarred chest rising and falling with every stroke of your hand over his most intimate part.

“Mnrrrrggh- g-gooood.” He drawled, voice sounding more rough than usual as he panted, hands clenching and unclenching the bedsheets at his sides, not knowing what to do with his body.

“Just relax, Kyle. Let go, I’m right here.” You whispered in reassurance, wanting him to feel comfortable the whole time.

This was such an intimate action and you didn’t want to do anything to cause Kyle to react in a possibly dangerous way. 

Kyle let out a quiet, desperate whine, so overwhelmed by the feeling, but also at the same time, wanting more. Like he couldn’t get enough. 

Sensing this, you settled yourself more in between his legs, letting your tongue slip out and carefully swipe across his cockhead, causing him to nearly cry out at the feeling, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to make sense of the new, wonderful sensation.

You couldn’t help but smirk, carefully swiping your tongue across the tip a few more times before sinking down, lips wrapped tightly around his length as you bobbed your head a bit, stroking the rest that didn’t fit in your mouth.

Kyle was writhing on the bed, and to the naked eye, it would almost appear that he was in pain. You did worry for a second, but the way he opened his eyes and looked down at you told you he was just fine.

You sped up your hand, bobbing your head faster, the slick sound of Kyle’s cock hitting the back of your throat was driving him absolutely crazy and in an instant, you were thrown onto your back, Kyle tearing viciously at your clothes as he grunted, eyes dark and determined.

“Woah! Kyle- be careful- Hey!” You shouted as he ripped off your shirt, hands sweeping across your bare stomach before he pulled off your pajama pants as well.

Everything was happening so fast that you barely had time to think. You tried to sit up, to get Kyle to calm down, but he was so riled up that he couldn’t see reason. He attacked your neck with sloppy kisses and bites, marking you up.

He groaned in frustration as he tried to get your bra off but failed, moving on to your panties instead.

You winced as the harsh thread of fabric was ripped from you, leaving a red mark.

“Kyle! Just- slow down!” 

But he wasn’t listening, not really. He had climbed on top of you, trying to position his cock at your entrance before he slid in. A loud, relieved groan leaving his lips as he nearly collapsed onto you.

He was big, and it hurt. Especially since he had given you no time to adjust before he was moving at a steady rhythm, his hips snapping against yours as he pulled you into a sloppy kiss. 

Your body slowly began to adjust, letting him sink deeper into you. His thrusts didn’t have any particular rhythm to them. He just went in and out, in and out. 

With every thrust of his hips, his pelvis brushed against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you.

You had barely noticed the way Kyle had stilled, soft cries coming from his lips as he was buried against your shoulder. You frowned, thinking that obviously something was wrong, so you pushed Kyle up a bit to get a good look at his face. He was crying. Fat teardrops rolled down his pale, scared face as he looked at you.

“Kyle? Kyle hey- woah look at me, what’s wrong?” You cupped his cheek, trying to sit up a bit, but it was hard because Kyle was still on top of you, as well as inside you.

He simply just shook his head at your question, leaning closer to you, nearly suffocating. It was as if he wanted to crawl inside your body. Just wanted to be as close as humanly possible.

“Kyle-“ you urged, still very worried about the boy on top of you. His thrusts had stopped and he was just crying, seemingly trying to form words, but unable to.

“I-I l-loo-“ he sniffled a bit, a tear dripping from his chin onto your bare breast. You shivered, focusing on his words to try and understand him. 

“Loooooove y-youuuu” he said, looking up at you proudly as he managed to get the words out.

You almost teared up at his confession. He was crying because he loved you? God, you’d never meet another human being as kind and selfless and just… sweet as him. He was one of a kind. 

He whimpered quietly as he began to thrust into you again, and you could tell he was close by the urgency in his thrusts.

“Shhh-“ you whispered, holding him close. Making sure he felt secure and loved. 

“I love you too Kyle. So much, such a good boy- fuck-“ you swallowed hard, grasping at Kyle’s back as he fucked into you, his body quivering as he pulled back a bit to look at you, seeming to ask without words if it was okay to cum. To let go. 

“I’ve got you, Kyle. Go ahead baby.” You cooed, and Kyle’s face contorted in the most beautiful display of pleasure you’d ever seen, his hips stilling after one particularly hard thrust. You felt as his warm seed filled you, and you cursed silently. He hadn’t worn a condom. It’d be fine though. You hoped. You were on birth control, but you knew that didn’t always work.

You relaxed into the bed, pulling a now exhausted Kyle with you. He pulled out of you shakily and curled up beside you, face buried in the crook of your neck as he closed his eyes. 

He was out like a light before you even had the chance to say another word. You got up to get cleaned up before you went to Kyle’s room, seeing the light still on.

And there, on the bed was his tablet, headphones still connected, and a random video pulled up on some porn website. How he had managed to find it astounded you, but you knew only two things.

You loved Kyle more than anyone in this world and would do everything in your power to keep him feeling safe and loved

He needed to be monitored while on his tablet from now on. 

[urmommt]

ch1 Sealed with a kiss (jayvik x reader)

Summary:

After months at the Late Latte Cafe, your routine had become predictable—making coffee, jotting orders, and chatting with customers. You never imagined two of those customers were the brightest minds at the academy—or that they’d become your friends. Jayce’s booming laugh and easy charm made him impossible to miss, while Viktor’s quiet wit and sharp focus drew you in more subtly. Simple interactions grew into saved tables, shared jokes, and conversations you looked forward to more than you’d admit. Soon, it wasn’t just friendship. Every glance, touch, and late-night talk felt charged, like something unspoken was waiting to surface. And part of you didn’t want it to stop.

The undercity was always shrouded in a haze of gray, a suffocating mix of smog and shadows that seemed to cling to every surface. The streets were a labyrinth of narrow alleys and crumbling buildings, their foundations long eroded by neglect and desperation. This was where you grew up, where survival wasn’t guaranteed, and every step was taken with caution.

You remembered waking up to the hum of machinery, the clanging of metal echoing through the thin walls of what you called your apartment. It wasn’t much but it was home and that was all you needed. The air always smelled of oil, rust and another more distinct smell, one that you couldn’t put a name to but a scent you’d grown used to nonetheless. Now that you thought about it, it was most likely the smell of the smog. The one bane of your existence and the thing that set you back as soon as you came out the womb much like many other Zaunites.

The only Zaunites that weren’t set back as much by the smog were the rich ones and Janna knows you weren’t one of those. Your pathetic ragged clothes and constant dirt on your face were clear distinctions of your socioeconomic status and you were certainly not rich at all.

Your father worked in the factories, his hands constantly stained with grease and exhaustion. He always came home late, carrying the weight of the day on his slumped shoulders, but he’d still manage to put on a tired smile when he saw you.

“How’s my little Zaunite scholar?” he’d ask, his voice tinged with pride. He was a very proud Zaunite and although you never understood why you knew his pride in Zaun wasn’t entirely unaccounted for. Zaun did accomplish many things and through the danger of living here the people still survived and even sometimes thrived.

You’d show him the notes you’d scribbled on scraps of paper, equations and ideas you barely understood but wanted to learn. He’d ruffle your hair, tell you that you were destined for more than this place, that you’d make it out one day. His belief in you was unwavering, even when you doubted yourself.

The undercity was harsh, but it taught you resilience. You learned how to navigate its dangers, how to keep your head down while quietly dreaming of a life beyond the grime and shadows. The undercity wasn’t just a place; it was a state of mind, a constant reminder of where you came from and how far you wanted to go.

You’d learned early on to read people, to gauge intent in a glance or a gesture. It was a skill that had kept you safe, but also one that made you hyper-aware of the divide between those who thrived in the undercity and those who merely survived. For you, survival had always been about keeping your head down, staying out of trouble, and planning for a future that felt impossibly far away.

When the opportunity came to attend the academy in Piltover, it felt like a lifeline. Your father had worked tirelessly to make it happen, sacrificing more than you’d ever know to give you a chance at something better. The day you left, he’d hugged you tightly, his voice thick with emotion.

“You’re going to make me proud, kid,” he’d said, and those words were the last he’d ever said to you before he passed away in your first year at the Academy.

Now, as you stood behind the counter at the Late Latte Cafe, the memories of the undercity felt like a distant echo, though they were never far from your mind. The warm, golden light streaming through the windows and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee were a stark contrast to the world you’d left behind. Here, the hum of espresso machines and the murmur of conversation were your new soundtrack, a soothing rhythm that brought a sense of normalcy to your days.

The door chimed softly, pulling you from your thoughts. A pair of customers walked in, their presence commanding attention even before they reached the counter. As you looked at them you felt a sense of DeJa’Vu as though you’d seen them someplace, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

One of them was tall and broad-shouldered, his confident stride and easy smile making him hard to ignore. The other was leaner, his movements measured and deliberate, a sharpness in his gaze that seemed to take in everything at once.

“What can I get for you?” you asked, your voice steady despite the slight flutter of nerves their presence brought.

The taller one spoke first, his tone warm and friendly. “Two Americanos please. Busy day ahead.”

The other simply nodded, his attention briefly flickering to the menu before settling back on you. There was something about the way he looked at you, as if he were trying to read through you, into your soul.

You prepared their order quickly, handing them the cups with a practiced smile. “Good luck with your day,” you said, and they both offered brief thanks before heading to a table by the window.

It was a fleeting interaction, one that lasted only moments, but it lingered in your mind long after they’d sat down. Something about them felt different, though you couldn’t quite place why. Shaking off the thought, you turned your attention back to the counter, wiping it down as the morning rush began to pick up.

Later, as you sat in the quiet of your shared apartment, the day’s events replayed in your mind. You should have been focusing on your biology project for university, the one that had been looming over you for weeks. Instead, your thoughts kept drifting back to the two customers, their presence as vivid in your memory as it had been in the cafe.

The undercity had taught you to read people, to notice the small details that others might miss. And something about those two told you they weren’t just ordinary patrons. You pushed the thought aside, opening your laptop and forcing yourself to concentrate on the work in front of you. There were deadlines to meet, goals to achieve, and you weren’t about to let anything distract you from the future you’d worked so hard to build.

Still, as your fingers hovered over the keyboard, the images of their faces flashed in your mind—the warmth in one’s smile, the intensity in the other’s gaze. You shook your head, trying to focus. You couldn’t afford distractions, not now. But deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder if that brief encounter was the start of something more significant. For now, though, all you could do was wait and see.

guys pls dont shit on this its my first jayvik fic and i promise chapters will get longer they wont stay short omg TwT

[icallhimjoey]

Prompt idea either for your current fic or a random one shot! Soft!Joey was VERY much not so soft Joey in your dream and you wake up in a STATE about it. Now real Joey needs to rectify his dream world bad behaviour. Angsty Smutty fluffy whatever you think is best.

Love your work!

me: save this for something longer also me: no the girlies need it right now Wordcount: 1.5K

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Boy Of My Dreams

“Come here, baby.” 

Joe was there.

Right there where you'd left him, holding the covers open for you when he heard you turn off the lights in the bathroom. 

“I’m fine. Was just a dream.” you immediately said, curling back onto your spot, close to him, but your back turned.   

Joe’s eyes were still closed as his hands roamed until fingers trailed up your back to hold onto your neck. To feel some kind of closeness, the laziest way of comforting his girl after a nightmare.  

“Talk later?” 

But his question went unanswered. No confirmation, no dismissal, because either one didn’t feel right. You let the words float and hoped they would float away, real far, hoped they’d make real distance as you both fell back asleep.

Occasionally, you’d have a nightmare that would continue the story of a nightmare you’d had years earlier. A dream you couldn’t even remember, hadn’t consciously thought of since that one morning after you’d woken up from it, but somehow it still managed to store itself away inside your brain. Somewhere deep down, a place you couldn’t reach by yourself, just... lingering there for you to revisit in your sleep eventually.

It happened very rarely, but the second you’d wake up, you’d realise, fuck, this was that same fucking nightmare you had had ages ago.

When you hadn’t even known Joe yet.

Hadn’t even known of his existence, let alone would have known the lines of his face like the back of your hand.

The plush of his lips.

The scruff of his cheeks.

His chin.

The way your mind would hallucinate awful things in your sleep that would feel so vivid and so real was absolutely terrifying, but the addition of Joe’s face made everything so much worse.

Your unconscious mind could play tricks on you.

You knew this.

But in your sleepy haze, the feelings were real. The emotions right there.

And that man who’d scared you years ago in this same nightmare now wore a face that you recognised.

Logically you knew it was an addition.

Something new that hadn’t been there before.

There was no way you’d also dreamt about Joe all those other times - every person in a dream was someone you needed to have seen before, you knew.

But still.

The hand that held onto your neck was of little comfort, and you knew it was silly, but your body still flinched and moved away from the man in your bed because he didn’t feel safe right now.

You hoped Joe wouldn’t react to the quick pull away from him. To the little shimmy you did to duck into your pillow a bit more. But you felt how he raised his head off of his own, likely to see through a squinty eye if you were okay.

“I’ll have forgotten in the morning.” you quickly reassured with a whisper into the dark, and Joe decided he was too tired to get into anything right now anyway. He’d leave it to rest and hoped that you were right. That the next bit of sleep would make you forget about any horrors.

Except it didn’t.

It took you long to fall back asleep, and when you eventually did, you slipped right back into the same awful narrative.

It was why, not that long after you’d woken up that first time, you shook Joe awake. Leant over him, sort of sweaty, big wet eyes close to his face because, you just... you needed to check.

Had to see for yourself.

To see if his eyes were normal.

Joe roused awake, confused and definitely not as alert as you were.

“What?” Joe croaked, a little freaked out by the way you frowned in panic as you searched his eyes. He saw how yours flicked between his left and right.

Normal.

Joe’s eyes were their normal big brown beautiful kind soft ones. Bit tired. Definitely confused. But not the evil pitch black giant orbs you’d just dreamt of. You immediately relaxed and fell back onto your pillow, sighing with relief. This was definitely one of the weirdest most disturbing ways to be woken up before six o’clock.

“What’s wrong?” Joe asked, voice still just as hoarse, as he turned his head to look at you stare up at the ceiling.

Why were you panting?

“Nothing. I... don’t worry, your eyes are normal.”

Just a dream. It was just a dream. Your nervous system just had to catch up to it.

“My eyes?” Joe was so confused. What the fuck were you talking about?

“You were...” you started, but shook your head instead of finishing the sentence. It was of no use explaining. Just a silly dream. “Never mind. Just...” you looked at the ceiling and even though it was dark, the rubbing of your eyes made you see spots for a second.

Joe watched as you gathered your thoughts for a second, and worry etched deeper into his features.

“Hey,” he whispered, concern thick in his voice, a hand reaching over that placed itself on your forehead. “I was what? What did I do?”

You then turned your head to look at him, moving Joe’s hand into your hair, and you immediately felt guilty. Joe looked far too bothered for your liking.

“Scary.” you admitted, scooting over closer to him. “But you’re not scary now. Was just a dream.”

For a second, that made Joe relax a little. You weren’t talking about him him, you were talking about whatever weird version of him you’d just dreamt about. One without normal eyes, apparently.

Joe accepted you into his arms as you cuddled up to him, finding his sleep warm body to curl yourself around, seeking closeness this time around, because Joe’s eyes were normal and comforting.

He was glad it had just been a dream.

But then, Joe’s thoughts caught up, and actually, Joe didn’t like that.

Joe didn’t like that at all.

Didn’t like how you dismissed a nightmare like it hadn’t affected you when it so very clearly had.

Didn’t like how hugging you tight also meant that he could feel how fast your heart was beating.

Didn’t like how, real or not, you’d been scared of him. Had felt real fear because of him.

He’d been the boy of your nightmare, and that was not okay.

“You had a nightmare about me?” Joe almost sounded hurt, voice small and soft. Like it was his fault that you were breathing the way you were right now. Like he had personally done you a great disservice.

Which wasn’t true, obviously.

It hadn’t actually been him.

“It wasn’t you.” you comforted, pressing your face into Joe’s neck, reminding yourself just as much as you tried convincing him.

“Hm?”

“Just looked like you.”

But that didn’t make it better. Not to Joe, anyway.

The way that you went from trying for a little distance before, to suddenly hiding yourself away into his skin didn’t sit right with him either.

“You okay?” he whispered, a hand trailing up your back as he asked it, ending at your neck where he held onto it like he’d done before.

“Mhm,” you confirmed, and took a big deep breath to hopefully slow your heartbeat down a little. “Need to calm down.”

“Do you want to talk about it? What did I do to you?” Joe didn’t wait for an answer to the first question. Just wanted to know how severe his crimes had been. How big his apology needed to be. How much he needed to comfort you.

But like before, when he’d suggested to talk later, you let the questions sit where they sat, and didn’t provide them with an answer at all. Instead, you just burrowed deeper. Pressed your nose into his skin a little harder. Hitched your leg over his thighs a little higher. Squeezed yourself around his middle a bit more.

Joe decided his crimes had been very severe. Maybe even life sentence sort of stuff. He tightened his arms around your frame, the hand on your neck letting its fingers slide into your hair a little.

“I’m sorry.” Joe murmured against your forehead.

That made your eyes water.

You didn’t want to talk.

That was okay.

Just needed comforting.

“You’re okay,” Joe whispered into your hair, answering his own earlier question. He placed a little kiss there too, eyes closed, determined to make you drift off back to sleep, and it made you whine.

“You’re safe,”you deserved more sleep, but nightmareless this time. No scary eyes.

“I’m here.” Joe squeezed tigther as he felt you relax. From the way you started matching your breathing to his, he knew it was working.

You could have a nice dream about him.

He could be the boy of your dreams. Good, postive, sweet ones.

“No one’s gonna hurt you. Go back to sleep. You’re safe. I’m here.”

The hand that held onto your neck was actually very comforting now, and your body fully relaxed into the man in your bed because; he was right.

No one was going to hurt you.

You were safe.

Joe was there.

---

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[beware-of-pity]

You believe me like a god (I destroy you like I am) V

Masterlist

Previous Chapter - Next

Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

TW: Self-hatred/Implied Self Harm. Complicated family relations. The reader is a Targtower.

Cross-posted on Ao3

Chapter V: Not a lot, just forever (Intertwined, sewn together)

What have you done? How could you do such a thing?

You had practically run back to your room, Ser Rickard following close after. Before he could inquire about your state, you closed the door behind you, sliding down on it, shaking your head, sweating cold blood as you panicked.

You foolish girl, had you learned nothing? This is how it begins, your downfall, your own end.

You had shut yourself in your room, no one to enter unless you wished otherwise. As such, your meals were left at your doorsteps, which you cared not to take.

That same day, in the late afternoon, Jacaerys came to see you. Still shaken by your choice of actions, the whispered words, and the untold understanding between you and Lord Reynford, you gladly accepted his entrance into your room to get yourself off your raging mind. As if him being there with you could soothe your itching soul.

Oh, how much like your mother you were. Feeling guilty for wanting things you thought were within your rights to be yours, to demand for yourself, to want, to yearn. You yearned for things like a normal person. You had desires, wants, and needs, could it be so wrong to reach for what you wanted? Freedom is such an abstract concept. What is freedom? You’re free right now, within the confines created for you, but even farmers’ daughters were freer to do as they pleased themselves. So, how come you ate at yourself for being human?

Why did your chest burn with the guilt of treachery? Why did your mind chastise you with words of petulance?

How could it be your fault when the gods made you in the same image of the mother whose womb you were born from? The womb that gave you life, the womb that shaped you into who you are? From the father’s whose seed created you in his liking? The hands that, in the haze of pleasure, moulded you?

The gods made the sins they make common people like you afraid of so much stronger than the nature of mankind. A nature you were taught to fight against, to negate, to reject. But how could you when your soul demanded of you to be like others? They temped, they tethered, they schemed, awaiting, with baited breaths, as they watched you descend into a madness of your own making. For the moment, you’ll slip into the trap set for you to fall in. The gods are cruel, but they’ve been crueller.

Jacaerys had come for two reasons. One, because he had learned that you had shut yourself in your room, not wanting either maids or visitors to come in. And two, he had witnessed something he had never seen before in his life.

A dragon in distress.

He was very much aware of how close the bond between dragon and rider could be, and upon learning from one of your maids, one he paid to keep an eye on you, of your ‘situation’ once he returned to the Keep, he wondered if your indisposure and been the cause for Silverwing’s more than alarming state.

When he, Baela and Rhaena had gone to the dragonpit earlier that day, he was told that he could not access the cave where Vermax rested. The dragon keepers told him it would be too dangerous to venture into the dark of the pit when Silveewing, a dragon known for her friendly nature towards humans, was in such disarray with herself.

He had not heeded the advice given to him, citing that Silverwing had not hurt anyone ever before, even those who attempted to claim her and were unsuccessful in doing so. You were kind, and so was your dragon, he trusted that your nature fed off to Silverwing.

But when he approached the cave where Vermax rested, just a few paces from where Silverwing’s was, he understood why he was cautioned not to. She was whining, wriggling around, the chains pulling at her neck, clearly not used to them. Why would she? When she was a dragon known for her freedom. He remembered how often you used to fly with her, many times a day, almost every day. It was your only freedom, the one autonomy you were allowed in this world of men and gods. Something your mother used to reprimand you for, citing it was not good for a lady of your station to be more on the wild saddle than participating in courtly matters.

The moment Silverwing saw him, she tried to walk to him, possibly out of recognition of the many flights you and her had taken with him and Vermax in the past, until she was pulled back once more by the chains, agitating her.

When he didn’t try to help her, she grew angrier, batting her wings and snapping her jaw at him, baring her pointy and sharp teeth. Before he could make another move, she was blasting her blue flames at him, making him stumble back in surprise. She had never done that before, not to him, not to anyone. He was used to her friendliness, and her erratic change of attitude worried him.

He had not gone for a flight that morning. Instead, he waited for Baela and Rhaena to return with Moondancer, Rhaena riding with her since Morning was still too young for her to fly with. After all, the pink beauty was only four years of age, just a big hatchling still. It would be long before Rhaena could fly atop her.

With the time he was given, he contemplated what he had just found himself at the hands of. It was no secret that you missed Silverwing, the separation from your other half leaving you, at times, a shell of the person you used to be. He knew how much you yearned for the skies, not just for the sake of flying but to feel the air blow through your hair, flesh against your skin when you did so with the mount you used to spend your days upon.

Perhaps today, more than any other day, you felt more melancholic than usual, the disparity of your situation truly pulling at you.

There were….days when everything got the better of you. When you refused to go out, to eat even less than you already did, to get out of your bed. He worried for you; he truly did, and his worry did not come from a place of pity, which he knew you hated. It came from a place of care and concern for you, your well-being, and your sanity.

Jacaerys always felt that you had a special place in his heart, one he would always reserve for you. His childhood had not been the best despite his more-than-awaited royal birth. His mother shielded him as best as she could, but she could not change the nature of the world they both lived in. You were the only one, aside from Helaena, who saw him as more than what he was, seeing through the prejudices and rumours spread about him. Kind, ever the open-hearted and understanding girl you were, you made a point to defend him from your brothers when their words would get less than kind in his regards. You two read together, under the weirwood tree in the Godswood, mostly histories of Valyria and the history of House Targaryen, which you always seemed more versed on than him, one of the reasons why you also taught him most of the Valyrian he knew, which you had taken an affinity than he couldn’t compare to, even years after, when he had become a studied mind and an ample linguistic in the old tongue of his ancestors.

He remembers how you used to show him every single needlework you would sew when you first picked your needle and thread because of the lessons your mother had made you take. Your first true work was an embroidered handkerchief with Silverwing and Vermax on it. He had never felt his heart swell so much as it did that day. He was eight years of age.

He was so enamoured by the gesture that he used to sleep with the handkerchief under his pillow, worried that someone would try to steal it from him, like little Luke, who would surely tease him endlessly for it. Even now, years down the line, he never parted from it, a true testament to just how much it meant for it. It weighed in the pockets of his trousers as he watched you intricately weaving the needle in the fabric latched into the wooden hoop. A silent reminder of who you were for him.

“What will that be?” He asked, his voice just a murmur so as to not break the silence that filled the room, the flickers of the fire crackling in front of you two.

“I don’t know yet” you muttered. He noticed how you were quieter than usual as if something you did not want to say would come out of your mouth otherwise.

“I like the colour,” he said, watching the red strings sawn together “It would go well with gold”

You raise the hoop to get a better look at the weaving dragon you were sewing before moving to hold it up against his doublet to see how it would fit upon it, or something similar, like a shirt or cloak. 

“Or black,” you said, before looking at his face, only for him to stare back at you. “If you like it I shall give it to your seamstress. Perhaps she can make good use of it. A shirt or doublet”

“I wouldn’t want to take away such creation from you for a mere shirt” he huffed, not taking his eyes off your inquisitive ones.

“Even if I insist?” It wasn’t often that you were so bold as to order around or dictate to others, especially not your servants, who you were always kind to and left to their own devices most times because you did not want to bother them with your bothersome nuances. Hence, Jacaerys knew that when you insisted upon something, you did so because you genuinely wanted to. It seemed now that you wanted him to have this piece of embroidered fabric for him to do as he pleased with it.

“You did the same with your last piece, I cannot accept any more” he argued against the offer, taking your free hand in his, absentmindedly caressing the skin of the back of your hand. “And I’ve yet been unable to repay you for your free labour”

You scoffed, admittedly not out of anger or annoyance, but, maybe, as an instinct of sort to show your displeasure with his words, “How can I show you that I do not do any of the things I do because I seek recognition or payment from it?”

Your words hit a nerve, it seemed because you noticed and felt his hand tighten slightly around your caged one “I did not mean it like that”

Jacaerys didn’t want you to believe that he saw you in the same light as he would a maid or a servant, who did things that they were asked to do only so they could be praised or honoured for their work later, such as that maid he pays to watch over you, who only betrayed your services because of the pouch of golden coins he handsomely bestowed upon her.

Loyalty can be such a fickle thing if you know just how to bewitch lonesome victims. To her fairness, the maid had a family to feed, and self-preservation demanded that if the occasion for her to improve her impoverished conditions would lay at her feet, she should then throw herself at them to do so. He was sure you, too, would not blame the maid for her treachery if unmasked, and she begged for your forgiveness for her disloyalty. After all, you were not privy to how desperate means called for desperate measures. And as a product of her own environment, you would not expect less of her.

“I know you didn’t, but, truly, I want to” you sighed “I would not get any use of it anyways. I would rather have you have it, than for it to gather stifle dust in this storage of a room”

Jacaerys tightened his lips at your words. He did not like your living conditions either. Your previous room, back in Maegor’s holdfast, had always been a sight to behold for him, rich in decorations and luxury. Full of Hightower heritage, green had dominated the space —and the more devout your mother became, the sparer everything had begun to look around the Keep, a reflection of your mother’s strong desire for order and control. There were a few things that made your personality stand out among your mother’s undigitised desire to be everywhere, like your collections of books and trinkets. Helaena liked bug collecting, but to the sometimes messy and soiling activity, you much-preferred flower pressing, amounting to a collection of books containing them that rivalled Helaena’s many viewing screens for her insects.

When he was younger, he liked to come with the two of you to the gardens, watching over as you and Helaena spent your afternoons and mornings indulging in your preferred pastimes. Sometimes, when Helaena was too afraid of certain bugs to pick, frightened at the possibility of hurting them, he would pick them up for her, swallowing his own fright and the revolting sensation that washed over him at the bugs crawling in his hands. He, too, preferred the art of flowers more than that of bugs

Instead of pressing them, you would bind them, creating small bouquets of all sorts of arrangments for him to bring back to his rooms, the freshness of the newly picked flowers haunting his room with their smell. In an effort to impress you, he tried his own hand at it, often creating bouquets of all colours, which clashed against one another, not quite as effortlessly as you did. He much liked yours better.

You appreciated the effort nonetheless, complimenting him and trying to help him by giving him bits of advice for him to follow. His mother, of all, delighted in the bouquet he presented to her for her name days.

He had hated watching you be stripped of all your possessions. Your room had been given to Rhaena, who had wished for it to be rearranged in a style more to her liking, as she should be able to as the new proprietor. Whenever he went to visit her, often having tea with her and Baela there, he would let his eyes stray around, noticing how different everything was and how you would, certainly, arrange your things differently than Rhaena did, were you still living in this quarter. He sometimes missed the white and green of it all, now replaced by soft pinks and pastels, Rhaena’s most preferred colours, reminiscing of the times you two had spent together in it.

The room in the vault your family was confined to, was second rate to what you had been used to in the past, and though you never complained about it, Jacaerys imagined it to be difficult to be living in such conditions either way. Small windows, with barely any light coming from them and little to no air picking up in this part of the castle. The bells of the Sept beside the vault would create this almost monastic environment, and he would muse about how this room almost seemed to befit a Septa more than a royal princess.

He had stayed long enough to have dinner with you. To say that the ensemble on the table was pitiful would almost be a compliment to the food. Stable boys ate better than you did.

The servants ducked their eyes at his stare as they placed the food on the table. Bread, although stale, butter and honey and blackberry preserves, old ones he was sure were stuffed in the back of the pantry, a rasher of bacon and a soft-boiled egg, a wedge of cheese, a pot of tea. A sullen assembly. Still, he watched as you dived into the food with no complaints, wondering if you did not care about the conditions of the food because you had grown used to it or because you were famished out of the lack of substance you denied yourself.

Guilt is a disease, one he hoped you would soon heal yourself from. He hated how passive you seemed to become of everything, and if you were not willing to stand for yourself, he would. Had you known how he rounded the servants that had served you your food tonight, you would have surely reprimanded him about how you were more than capable of standing up for yourself if you wanted.

He had inquired, if not outright demanded, who had insisted for food of such quality to be served to you, and to his surprise, or rather, to his predictability, they had told him that it was Lord Bartimos’ orders. Celtigar, clearly, did not know how to stay his hand, a mere councillor to his mother, he had gone behind everyone’s back, his, his mother, and her hand, his grandfather, to give out orders that he had no jurisdiction to give.

It was no wonder, that the next time they had crossed paths in the middle of the halls of the Keep, Jacaerys made sure to remind him of his place and station, adding on a subtle threat that future misconduct would not receive the same mild reception. Something about being ‘fed to the dogs in the streets’.

The next time he stayed for dinner, he was more than pleased to see what you had been served. There was hot bread and fresh churned butter, a thick beef soup, capon and carrots, and peaches in honey. Even the air could be tasted, sweeter than anything you had surely eaten in months, he thought.

He had watched with a hidden delight how you had taken a spoonful of everything, letting the different flavours melt into your tongue, each delicacy bursting your tastebuds with sensations long forgotten. From then on, he took to spending his suppers in your room, eating alongside you, to entertain himself in the sight he had come to love most. Word had spread around about his ‘encounter’ with Lord Bartimos, his household and that of many, he wagered, abuzz with spreading rumours spoken by fickle tongues.

He had no time for rumours or gossiped words; he was too busy showing his newly sewn black doublet with a proud red dragon embroidery on it. Many wondered whose intricate hands had weaved such dazzling composition.

If only they knew.

Taglist: @esposadomd @aleemendoza2425-blog

If anyone else wants to be added, please comment so, and you'll be tagged in the next chapter

[kinicheous]

dazed | kinich

kinich comes to your rescue, but your oh so poor heart doesn't know how to deal with it.

genres/notes: fluff, angst if you squint, reader is down bad, reader is also injured/poisoned (let me know if something is missing!)

you feel embarrassed. flustered. warm, but in a good way. or maybe not, you can’t tell for sure. you want time to stop, but you also want it to fast-forward you out of the current. you can sense the parts of your body that hurt — which make the reason you’re in this situation in the first place — but your mind is too hazed to care about that really yet. 

kinich’s presence almost throws you off. it makes you let your guard down, but you also feel hyper aware of everything around you. you want to keep a healthy distance that will give the beating against your ribcage a break, but you also want to be closer. closer and closer, impossibly closer, as if you’re not being held against his chest at this very moment.

you’re conscious of every inch of his arm around you, all the way out to the fingertips that dig into your hips to further secure his grip. he’s careful about it, yet knowing just fine what he’s doing, seeing as his vines travel you through the dense jungles of natlan with ease.

the chill air should feel nice against your face like this, brushing it like gentle whips, but it does nothing to cool it down. it’s still burning terribly, and your guess is that kinich can feel it too as you subconsciously nuzzle into the crook of his neck. turns out you’re right because he soon sighs,

“don’t tell me the poison’s giving you a fever.”

you definitely don’t have a fever.

you don’t try to respond back with more than a shake of your head. much to your relief, he doesn’t question it any further. just a quiet “good”, and you realize that even one word alone has a special ring to it as long as it’s spoken in his voice — the more you comprehend that fact, the more pathetic you feel. 

kinich opens his mouth, ready to speak. he doesn’t have a particular interest in scolding someone who’s injured and poisoned to the border of comatose, but this is slightly different; on his way back from a commission, he’d just happened to stumble across your miserable state; it was surprising to see someone greatly familiar with combat crouching back against a tree, heavily breathing while in desperate attempts of hiding from tribal warriors. were you on a commission of your own? or fighting an informal battle? a misunderstanding? he wasn’t sure, but watching them about to gang up on a single, damaged person — who he, on top of that, knew very well — didn’t sit right with him. before you knew it, you were no longer on dangerous ground. or any ground at all.

kinich truly is ready to speak, but nothing comes out when he suddenly feels you fisting his shirt, tightly collecting the fabric between your fingers. so, he closes his mouth, letting out a deep breath through his nose. “stop being scared. i’m not going to drop you.”

you definitely aren’t scared.

you couldn’t be, ever. you trust him, possibly a bit more than you’d like to admit, and you don’t like this type of feeling — this type of affection, one you initially thought would be softer, sweeter and kinder, only to turn out to be much more violent. it feels rather like being internally assassinated, or like having your flesh dramatically ripped apart.

you simply never expected that falling in love with someone meant exposing the most fragile pieces of yourself. 

you can’t handle that any further, so you make a meek attempt to push yourself away from him. claiming that “you don’t have to carry me all the way back,” that “i can walk on my own”, yet it doesn’t surprise you the slightest when he holds you even closer with a scoff he doesn’t even try to cover.

“if i dropped you off by your door right now, i don’t think you’d even make it to your room,” kinich sighs and for a second, in the middle of your growing exhaust, you have to wonder if you’re actually feeling his lips graze the top of your head, “so just rest until we’re there.”

[hwnglx]

enhypen on cam vs. off cam

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

heeseung

on cam

nerves of steel. stable, patient, mild-tempered, agreeable. self-sacrificing, especially when it comes to the team. willing to give in and surrender for the group's sake. holds back and restrains himself a lot. grounded and down to earth. gives the team this significant and essential foundation of focus and practicality. he seems well-rounded artistically too, like the member who has the basic skills down to a tee.

off cam

not easy to satisfy. immensely high standards, good luck trying to have him be happy and content with.. anything, basically. i keep seeing him nagging and possibly micromanaging about minor things. also, can have his immature ways once he's in a negative headspace. more outspoken. will tell you things the way they are. more sensitive than what meets the eye. heeseung seems like the type to let out his inner negativity on others at times, which as a result he can blame himself for; this can cause even more dissatisfaction -> vicious loop here.. might have problems confronting and connecting to his emotions directly, chooses to run away from a lot of them. struggles expressing his feelings in a manner which accurately reflects his inner state of mind. goes back and forth between criticising and feeling sorry or guilty all the time. like he's in a constant inner turmoil.

jay

on cam

personable, easy to get along with. seems like the member who's best at creating parasocial relationships with the public. he's good at making you feel like you're connected, as if you're his friend. a lot of pride and smugness. knows what he can do for the team and isn't afraid to allow his confidence to shine. very much content in his element. can therefore bring a sense of positivity and optimism to situations. also, quite mature and reliable. good head on his shoulders. great business man. loves having people think he's “husband” material. like a grown guy with a strong sense of responsibility.

off cam

fancier. more out there and less restrained. likes showing off, and everything fancy and glamorous. is he the member who dresses up the most in terms of airport fashion? it's kinda giving that to me. seems proud of his fame and status. likes the feeling when people recognize him. more self-focused. cares about things like actively keeping up his popularity, making sure he's well-liked off camera as well. reputation is insanely important to this man. taurus energy is literally dripping from him. i could imagine him looking up his name a lot on social media. extremely ambitious. can get quite obsessive and lean on the gluttonous side at times. very “my way”. might go back and forth a lot, between trying his best to be charitable and accommodating with people around him, while also strongly holding on to his own values, principles and opinions. does not budge easily, you'll rarely catch jay being a pushover. stubborn as a rock once he's convinced about his opinion. more traditionally minded, holds beliefs that lean towards the more conservative side.

jake

on cam

youthful and bright, a childlike nature. sensitive to his surroundings with a dreamy quality to him, he can often find himself in a haze with his head in the clouds, i also heard “delusional”. at the same time, he can be very observant. quick wit. boldly speaks up when he feels the need to, and expresses himself bluntly at times. still presents himself as someone who's generally patient and tolerant, there's a bit of a hot and cold factor here. he's someone who seems calm and collected at first, but allows himself to step out of that once he feels strongly about something. jake can almost be like a child at his most emotional, but quiet and balanced once he's in work-mode. very hardworking, a diligent person who's continuously striving to reach higher goals and willing to put in the necessary effort.

off cam

passionate. gets random sparks of energy and motivation. definitely a “p” in terms of mbti. he's the type to feel strongly about e.g. a random hobby he found and obsess over it, just to get over it after a few days. burns hot once his inner fire erupts, but calms down just as fast. pours a lot of himself into every endeavour he faces. also gives off quite an individualistic and independent vibe, he doesn't really enjoy depending on other people to get things done for him. prefers doing it himself. detaches himself from people a lot of the time to gain a sense of inner balance. easily affected by his surroundings, especially by people's different energies. therefore needs his private space and alone-time to recharge. can be surprisingly introverted. a lot of internalised anxiety he tries his best to release when on his own. not someone to allow his inner stress to stand in the way of his work though. quite perfectionistic and hard to please in regards to himself.

sunghoon

on cam

chill, laidback, comfortable. easy to be around. not very reactive; in control of his emotions, rarely allows things to enrage him. and if he does, it's usually done in a tactful manner. i'd be surprised to ever catch this man fully lose grip on his temper while cameras are rolling. very mature as well, he knows how to present himself in a manner which shows off his best sides only. a lot of quiet but strong confidence he radiates to the outside. he's self-assured, and knows where his charm lies. a lot of natural charisma. his energy is very.. “i know i don't need to do much for you to like me.” like he's aware of the strong effect his presence can have on people.

off cam

good understanding of business. very protective of his career and what he's been able to build for himself. cautious about keeping it in tact. can be quite self-focused in that regard. can be much more “me me me” than you'd think, does desire and enjoy the spotlight to a degree, though he isn't obnoxious about it. i heard “don't ruin my moment” he doesn't like people getting in the way of his plans, feeling entitled to command him around, etc. very much a free spirit who doesn't enjoy having to majorly concern himself with others. careful and guarded when it comes to his private matters; draws a clear line between his professional life and personal life. adamant with his boundaries, i suggest not to cross them. holds grudges and stores much of his negativity inside, rather than letting it out. doesn't come without his insecurities, but they're likely to be so buried down, that he might not be entirely aware of them himself. generous, giving and supportive in his nature though. will offer a helping hand if he feels like someone is in direct need of it.

sunoo

on cam

another member who's quite conscious of his image and what he chooses to display to the public. wants to present himself in the best way possible. like i can see him straightening his back and stroking his hair out his face once the cameras start rolling. can slip in and out of conversations or situations depending on if he cares enough lol. quite intentional about when he speaks up, and when he stays put. although he can have his stand-out moments, usually sunoo prefers just blending in and not pulling too much attention to himself. knows he needs to go with the flow of the people around him, and stays balanced, as well as peaceful when cameras are on.

off cam

the type to work harder when people aren't looking. very much invested in continuously developing his skills and talents and improving his abilities. the type to plan out certain longterm goals for himself in his head without telling anyone, since he doesn't see the need to. for sure more focused on himself.. all i sense is him thinking about his own life. doesn't really concern himself with the group as much, has his eyes on his own path. this can also lead to him dealing with a lot of his negative emotions by himself though. someone who's more used to to withdrawing, and therefore more comfortable isolating himself when struggling. i can't shake the feeling sunoo feels like enhypen isn't the place that enables him to shine as much as he could. like his potential just isn't being fully realized. might feel quite stunted artistically and creatively because he has to match himself to six other guys. there's some pent up frustration here, and i don't really see him having much of an outlet for it. i can also sense some fear regarding his actual ability to stand on his own though; so he can easily feel lost. he doesn't feel like a true part of the group, but can also lack the substantial belief in himself to take steps in the other direction.. very pisces mars of him; he thinks of the idea of doing certain things, but often doesn't decisively act on it.

jungwon

on cam

worthy to note, that all i could think about was the group. he's very much aware of the unique responsibility that comes with being the leader. wants be a person of compassion and empathy for the team; someone who gives them the feeling of comfort. a resting place they can seek in times of stress. not only does he want for the members to be able to talk to him about anything, he also wants to be a source of confidence and inspiration. for the team, and in general. jungwon can often feel the need to remain strong and powerful for the sake of his group. i got reminded of this one quote bada lee once said about her dance team “if i fall apart, you guys will too” jungwon might relate to that in a way. he feels like the main guy pulling the ship forward. at the same time, there's some light and fun energy too. he doesn't want to seem too serious and strict all the time, and also make sure the atmosphere is enjoyable and lively for everyone. a little bit like a cool dad, lol. which is cute since he's the second youngest.

off cam

more business-minded. someone who's always making sure the professionalism is on par, everyone is aware of their jobs and does them orderly. can definitely get sharp-tongued and harsher with his words, if he feels the need to. will give you the reality checks you might be afraid of but are in need of to grow. his intentions are pure; he's just clear in what he expects from people and might not be the best at expressing it in a way that's more digestible for softer hearts. i can sense some fear in him of things going south for the group, so he's very protective over the place they're at now. will definitely be the one stepping up to argue if anyone dares to badmouth them. similarly to jay, he's also a member who can be quite focused on keeping his reputation up. might have a bit of an ego that gets in the way of him being easier to get along with though. i do see his ego being on the side of more quickly damaged, which can result in him getting defensive quite fast. make no mistake, he feels very protective over the group, but it's also because in his eyes, the course enhypen takes is largely reflective of how well jungwon himself is doing as the leader.

ni-ki

on cam

relentlessly hard-working, constantly trying to improve and striving for the top. someone who's just in his element when in work-mode. laidback and reserved. observant and attentive. usually keeps more to himself unless he needs to work. i see him being immensely perceptive, and sensitive to energies around him, which is why he can often consciously choose to detach himself. i got reminded of the quote that says “observe but don't absorb” a member who seems more uncomfortable about all the attention and eyes on him. prone to getting overwhelmed easily. the lines for on and off cam were more blurred for him. i don't see him being good at putting on a mask for the public, as much as he just chooses to stay quiet. it's like, if he doesn't showcase too much of himself, people have less things to judge him for. plus less things that distract them from what's important; his artistry. very professional. wants to primarily be seen and recognized for his work and craft. i don't see him enjoying fanservice, aegyo and silly stuff like that.

off cam

more self-conscious than what meets the eye. not easily satisfied, sees himself as a continuous student of his craft. very protective of his possessions, and focused on himself. can often feel like his work is the only thing he really knows and is good at, so he can be overly fixated on it. the type to get married to his work, to be honest lol. similarly to sunghoon, he doesn't like anyone rubbing their nose into his business. (the two sags, not surprising) can often crave a sense of control and stability in his life, and doesn't want people from the outside meddling in it for that reason. if ni-ki made a plan for himself, best believe he will go through with it till the very end. still, quite fair-minded. i don't see him being extremely greedy persé, but moreso holding himself to higher standards from the very beginning. wouldn't want to steal away anyone's opportunity, but wants to already be established enough, that he'd be first the choice anyway, if that makes sense. can feel trapped in his mind once he gets to a place of overthinking, and subconsciously set himself limitations that don't have to be there.

[anxiousnightmare]

KENDRICKKKKK WRITE A SUB!ANDREW FIC AND MY LIFE!!!! IS YOURS!!!!!!

Took a while (a long long while), but I did it!!

Hold Me Close -a.h.b.

pairing: andrew hozier-byrne x reader

word count: 707

warnings: smut

Andrew was exhausted, yet he craved your touch. It had been three months since the two of you had last met, when you’d flew out for one of his concerts on tour. You’d missed each other terribly since then, waiting for when he’d come back home and have you all to himself. He now found himself standing at the door of you shared home, a week earlier than was decided.

You opened the door, all sleep vanishing from your eyes as you tackled him into a hug. He was equally enthusiastic, his tired state easily forgotten. He kissed your forehead and the two of you stayed like that, enjoying the warmth that you’d missed so much.

Eventually, you found yourselves cuddled up and in bed, sharing lazy kisses along each other’s skin. You could tell that your love was tired, but that he still craved your touch with the way he craned his neck and gasped softly as you pushed him onto his back.

Andrew loved it when you took control. His exhausted state on this particular occasion made it easier for you to do so. Your movements unhurried, you trailed open mouthed kisses along his neck, nipping and teasing until the pale skin bruised.

Your fingers slipped under his shirt, teasing the waist band of his pants. You captured his lips in a slow kiss, and all he could feel was the intoxicating scent that was so uniquely yours.

“Darling?” you questioned in a gentle voice.

He nodded, forcing his eyes open.

“Lift your hips for me, Andy,” you tugged his clothes off, goosebumps prickling along his skin.

“Sit back,” he did as he was told, eyes watching intently as you took your shirt off. They hungrily traced the outlines of your curves. Although he wouldn’t dare touch, eager to be good for you.

You smiled at his obedience, “Touch me, darling.”

He brought a palm to your chest, teasing your sensitive buds. He reached forward, tentatively kissing your skin. The flat of his tongue rolled against you slowly, and you hummed, threading your fingers through his locks.

Your hips rolled against his and his hands found your waist, squeezing slightly. He looked up at you beseechingly, mumbling, “Please.”

“So quick to beg, hm?” a flush had crept up his face. Usually, he put up more of a fight, but today, he’d do anything for you if only you’d give him the word. His eyes drifted to the ceiling, shying away from you. He rarely ever got like this, so needy.

You brought your hand between the two of you, teasing him against yourself. A strangled sound left his throat. You sunk down on him slowly, his head hitting the headboard and yours resting against his shoulder. Your thighs shook from trying to keep yourself up. You leaned your hands against the headboard, pushing yourself into a sitting position. His eyes fluttered open and you held his gaze, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear and kissing him slowly.

You moved slowly, taking your time. A soft gasp and he lay helpless, letting you work him at your pace until you caught up with him. All he could feel was you. He was so, so close. But not yet. Through the haze he could feel you shudder above him.

“Let go, love,” your voice was hoarse, throat dry. His fingers dug into the flesh of your soft thighs as the dark behind his eyelids exploded into stars. You fell apart over him, limbs weak and shaky.

The two of you lay there, unable to think clearly. Finally, you hoisted yourself up to fetch a wet towel. Once you’d cleaned the mess, you cuddled against a very tired Andrew now fighting to keep his eyes open until you were in his arms again.

You pecked his forehead softly and he buried his face into your neck, fingers tracing the bruises already forming on your thighs. “I love you so much,” he sighed, reaching back to look at you. The adoration in his eyes made something deep inside you purr like a kitten. Instead, you smiled at him, “Get some rest, darling. You’ll need in the morning. I’ve missed you quite a lot, you know.”

[vhyunjinverse]

ONCE A MONTH

gn!reader x neuvillette (18+) | not proof read

summary : When the hydro dragon’s in heat and need to lay his seed..what better option than you?

warnings : breeding kink, mentions of “heat” (THIS IS NOT a/o/b.) slight!sub Neuvillette, oral (m receiving), virgin!neuvillette, loss of virginity

“Are you positive that you want to do this?”

“Yes..of course.” You look down at the contract nervously. You felt your mouth run dry, looking over the words you glanced at three times before, and your signature at the bottom. It wasn’t normal for this thing to happen- not in Fontaine. You guessed it was different with Neuvillette, since he’s the Hydro dragon. It was only right that he had something like that going on with himself. You hand him back the paper before smiling softly. His expression was hard to read but you saw his small grip on the paper as he filed it. “I’ve never done this with anyone else before.” Neuvillette’s cheeks were a small shade of red. “Is that alright as well? It’s not stated on the paper-“

“It’s..alright sir.” you smile. “As long as a get to help.”

“I’ll see you in a week, then.”

“Yes, of course.”

Never in a million years did you expect to sign your freedom away to be the fuck toy of Neuvillette himself once a month. After all, it is an opportunity of a lifetime.

-

“Is it too big to fit?” you stared at Neuvillette’s naked frame. His broad shoulders, neck coated in sweat as his hair flowed down his back, the hydro symbol on his lower stomach.He panted heavily, lips parted as he stared at how much you leaked from your hole..perfect little hole he couldn’t wait to destroy. thoughts clouded his mind, his eyes covered in a slight gray haze as he clenched his hands, obviously holding back from taking you right there.

Your mouth hung open as well, the length that hung between his legs bother heavy and leaking. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t warn you first..” he goes to apologize, shaking hands reaching out towards you. “Perhaps we should have prepped more-“ he rushes out, “No- no Neuvillette it’s okay!” You sit up from the silk sheets and motion him forward. He’s in front of you in an instant. Your hands crept up his thighs, beginning to kiss the girth on his lengthy cock. He moans softly, throwing his head back. You felt your ears warm..here you are, sucking the cock of the chief justice of Fontaine, and being the very first to do so. “You’re..perfect as always.” Your tongue dances around the skin, moaning softly as you felt his nervous hand place up top your head.

“You feel- good. Better than pillows…” The groan that left his lips went straight down to your sex, throbbing for him, waiting for him….it belonged to him now after all. “Ah~ yes..y-yes right there please..” He was a mess. His red face warned you of what was to come- why you were here in the first place. Taking care of Neuvillette’s heat. It was unheard of, but he was different in some way after all, he needed to lay his little dragon seed..who would say no to that? You stroked the rest of his cock your mouth couldn’t reach. Neuvillette was a mess. “oh..oh god-!” He whined, hips instinctively moving to thrust into your mouth. You look up at him, hands in your lap while he fucked your throat to reach his orgasm. “I..I can’t hold it in..I-“ He chokes out a moan, holding your head on his angry cock while coating your mouth.

Every drop tasted like heaven. Neuvi looks down at you, face flushed as he let go of your hair, panicking. “Y/N- Im very sorry I don’t know what took over me.” He wipes off the corner of your mouth. Shaking your head you stand, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You’re perfectly fine..” your thigh brushes up against his cock, still hard. “And we aren’t done.”

Neuvillette slept comfortably, you could tell. The bed sank slightly along with your body while stood there, mouth agape at the sight of your wet sex open for him. Your head laid on one of his pillows, ass in the air. His hand hesitantly touched your soft skin, his thumb pulling at one of your cheeks to expose your hole just a bit more… “May I?” Neuvi asks. You hum softly in response.

“I..I cannot hold it in anymore.” Neuvillette’s voice grows heavier, feeling his thick cock against your thigh. “I want to fill you with my seed, and although I cannot reproduce with your species, I would’ve loved to see your stomach full and round with it.” He presses up against your hole, groaning as he slowly started to enter you. Inch by inch causing you to moan aloud, hole tightening around him. “Thank you, for taking me.”

[sserasin]

ahhh drabble about reader riding natty’s face because natty was too loud? maybe from natty’s pov?

face riding w/ natty

cw nsfw under cut, female reader, oral (receiving), degrading names (slut)

natty thinks she could die like this.

with you sitting on her face, letting her eat you out— she wouldn’t care if a bomb dropped or if someone walked in. her whole life could be ruined, or at the very least, blackmailed, and she wouldn’t care as long as she could taste your sweet juices.

“can’t talk now, huh?” you pant, betraying your composed state as a low moan leaves your lips a second after. you grind your hips down, eyes closing as natty thrusts her tongue in and out of your hole. “you’re so shameless— you don’t even care, do you?”

natty attempts to shake her head in protest, making you moan louder this time and you slap a hand over your mouth at the new angle, “oh— oh shit, do that again—”

natty listens without hesitation, shaking her head and bumping her nose into your clit. she loves that you’re basically fucking yourself on her tongue, that you’re using her.

your hand grips her hair, putting your foot up on the bed and raising up, bringing her head up with you. her moan is cut off by her face being shoved in your pussy, the vibrations making you bite back a moan and try to gain your composure again, saying, “what did i say? be quiet. you don’t want your members to hear their natty be used like the slut she is?”

natty finally realizes that she’s bucking her hips up into the air, trying to hump something, anything— but it’s not there. she whines pathetically, sound muffled as she looks up from you under her eyelashes. she moves her mouth up and sucks on your clit, switching frantically and messily between your clit and hole.

your breath hitches, “you want to let julie and belle know how much you love eating pussy? love eating my pussy, and only mine?” your hips stutter, her hands gripping your thighs to hold you down so you can’t get up. the top half of your body falters, your hand gripping the top of the headboard. your head turns back slightly, and whatever you see makes you laugh, “oh, that really turned you on th—that bad? you came without me even touching you.”

she can’t even bring herself to care that her cum soaked her underwear sticky, or that you were clearly mocking her. it just made her eager to make you come even more, and she could tell you were there when your thighs tighten around her head as she vigorously fucks her tongue in and out of you, making sure her nose kept hitting your clit at the right angle.

your moan becomes high pitched, and she gasps slightly when you cum on her tongue, eagerly licking it all up. you attempt to pull her hands off of your thighs to let you up, but she refuses until she deems you clean of your juices and she’s swallowed every bit of it back.

your release is her most favorite flavor, and she could never get enough of you. you’re whining, she realizes in her haze, blinking up at you and finally letting go of you. you fall on the bed beside her, panting slighty.

natty gasps for breath, even daring to day, eyes flickering up and down your body hungrily, “next time, we sh—should try sixty-nine. you were loud, too.”

you don’t even have the energy to punish her or even glare at her, simply flickering your eyes over to her in annoyance, “how about i don’t let you come at all?”

natty shuts up and decides to start the bath.

[cultofdixon]

You just know sometimes

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • So much had to happen between Terminus and Alexandria…You in your situation being one of them • ANGST/SFW • TW: Injuries / Bruises / Scars / The Claimers & Cannibals Mentioned / Anxiety

Requested by: Anon

You failed Daryl Dixon

You fucking failed and people have died because of it

All you were tasked to do was to keep them safe

But yet here you are…and where are they?

Fucking DEAD

Daryl snapped out of his half asleep haze with a small grunt of annoyance which caught Carol’s attention instantly. She didn’t say a word but gave him a concerned look as they were currently holding up camp in the woods after another failed attempt at staying in a neighborhood. If only the herd didn’t come through it.

It was really starting to feel like the nine months before the prison.

When the group returned to the main road, they heard someone or something running in the woods which they obvious drawn their weapons thinking a possible threat. Rick directed with his head for Daryl and Glenn to join him going into the trees to figure out what that could possibly be.

“Glenn you take the right, Daryl left, and I’ll go forward” Rick stated as they instantly acted on such.

They equally gotten far into the woods and Glenn came across nobody, but there was a blood trail that he followed until he ran into Rick. When both were now following the blood trail, Daryl was occupied by some walkers that after taking out the few he came across he noticed the blood that the others have caught on. But the trail stopped at a tree and there’s no foot prints either.

Daryl flinched when he felt acorns fall on his head resulting in him looking up to find a person, a woman holding onto the base of the tree for dear life as the branch she sat on barely supported her.

“Did you find—-“ Daryl held his hand up stopping Rick from saying anymore before pointing upward.

Rick gestured for Glenn to take another angle but she wasn’t much of a threat.

“I-I know you’re t-there. I don’t have anything”

“What makes you think we can trust—-“ Glenn stopped his question when her pack dropped to their feet. He knelt down looking further into it finding only a lighter and what looks like a shiv because she has no weapon. She probably had to get creative with walkers. Then the obvious. “Wait. Are you bit?!” He snapped instantly causing Rick to ready his gun again as Daryl elbowed him to stop.

“I would like not to be dropped on by a walker, Daryl. You can’t be too sure what happened until she makes herself—-“ Rick stopped when the woman they were talking about finally climbed down the tree.

No obvious bites

But very obvious injuries

“I’m not bitten. I’m…being chased” She stated and it didn’t take long for the four to be alerted by the commotion on the road. Which had Rick sprinting without a second thought given his kids were there.

When the leader returned to the rest of his family, he noticed they had taken care of it. There were three men. Two were taken care of and one had gotten away but not without something to show for it.

“They were asking if we’ve seen some woman, then it got a bit hairy as if we were trying to hide something from them” Abraham started.

“They threatened to hurt the kids. We were going to let them live obviously” Carol continued as she had been hovering around Judith and Carl just as much as Michonne has with Tyreese.

“The third got away. To be honest with you, he ain’t gonna make it very fair” Noah frowns gripping the strap to his weapon while looking into the direction they had come from as Rick grew anxious of another threat like the Claimers only a few of them came in contact with. Which brought into question if they should let the woman they found in with them.

Given her state and lack of weapons, she’s no threat to them besides whoever wants her dead.

“We have the woman. She’s in bad shape. No weapons but a makeshift knife that could only really take out a rotting corpse like a walker.” Rick stated waiting for any negative sign from the group that would tell him to not bring her in.

“How bad is she?” Maggie frowns growing worried before turning to the sound of footsteps finding Glenn stepping out with Daryl who helped the woman walk. “We’ll help her”

“Is that really a good idea bringing in more trouble?” Sasha questioned only for Maggie to now have an annoyed look.

“We all actively entered Terminus and practically brought ourselves more trouble. We have the upper hand with whoever these men are, they don’t stand a chance”

“Then we’ll take her in. For right now, we should make camp before it gets too dark to see where we are going” Carol added as she followed Maggie’s lead in approaching the woman to help her, noticing Daryl was glued to her suddenly when they went to help her.

Y/N is her name

Rosita forced Eugene to help her and Glenn make up the trigger line as Tara added the cans. The technique to warn them of walkers when they make up camp in open areas. Abraham took care of taking first watch after checking out their perimeter.

Daryl took the first aid kit from Maggie once she found it out of all their persons, to bring it to Y/N and help assess her injuries noticing a few of the cuts on her arms were deeper than he anticipated. None of them could do stitches in the conditions they were in. He had to manage with heavy bandaging and she let him patch her up but the second he was done, she instantly retracted into herself.

“He feels guilty”

Rick watched Carol sit beside him as they were watching the scene before them.

“What do you mean?”

“He feels guilty for Beth so he has this need to save her” Carol frowns watching Daryl take out his canteen handing it to Y/N who rejected it. Regardless of how hard he insisted. “Save everyone even if it means tearing himself down”

“Well, he’s got us. They both do”

During the night when most were asleep, Daryl took over watch for Abraham letting the man get some sleep. He noticed Y/N get up from her spot and started to move past the trigger line keeping herself quiet…that’s probably why she’s gone unnoticed at first until her escape became dire.

“Take watch” Daryl whispered to Glenn not giving him a second to respond as he was already on his leave. Maggie couldn’t help herself from stirring awake when her husband moved but she noticed the archer and couldn’t help but worry.

“Where are you going?”

Y/N stopped in her track giving him a deer in headlights kind of look, especially given the light from his flashlight shined in her eyes.

“I’m leaving” She relaxed turning away from the light as Daryl turned it off but quickly took a hold of her arm as gentle as he could. “Listen—-“

“I’m not going to listen to anything by the lines of “it’s to protect us” when we’ve all had our fair share of bullshit in this world”

“But Daryl—-“ silence was quickly met when another set of footsteps were heard, and not just one and no sound that determined a walker or frankly any of their own.

Daryl only had his knife as did Y/N. He went to reach for his but she halted him, letting the two listen for a while longer.

“That stupid bitch just had to go and get some help”

“They should’ve let her bleed to death”

“Useless pig” the third whispered but there were more to follow and Y/N gave Daryl a concerned look before suddenly booking it after she grabbed the flashlight in his hand.

A diversion is what she decided upon without telling anything to Daryl as he stood there in a bit of shock watching her fade into the night until the light of his flashlight turned on. Then the sudden shift of stealth approach those chasing her, turned into sprints and shouts. That quickly alerted the others while Daryl ran back to get his crossbow that Maggie already met him halfway on.

This was stupid Y/N thought as she ran and dodged as many trees as she could in the night. Even with a flashlight, she couldn’t help but bump into a few and that only drove the pain from her previous injuries to a higher level.

“She just ran?!”

“As a diversion one can assume” Rick sprinted after Daryl with Maggie and Carol on either side of him and Abraham, Rosita, and Michonne following shortly behind.

The trail ran dry, how it could it have run dry?

“Fucking hell!” One of the men shouted and with his anger brewing externally, he pushed one of the others onto his back. “That fucking slut just had to get loose”

The one on the floor slowly picks himself up but only for the third, who seemed to be the angriest out of them all.

“If you had tied the knots better, she would still be the squirming mess beneath me back home” the tone of his anger only made it clear that he was the leader of them all. He quickly dropped the guy when he heard footsteps as two others quickly stepped toward the sound to investigate, only for one of them to meet their end with an arrow through his eye. “Motherfuckers—-“

“If you wanna live” Which you won’t

“You’re going to want to stay right there” Rick stated after Daryl, with his gun raised as their family had their weapons drawn to the living three that were more empty-handed. “Where’s the woman? The one you are after”

“Like we are going to help you find—-“ the one on the left side of the leader dropped dead after Daryl shot another bolt. This action caused the other lesser to panic.

“S-She ran off. W-We don’t k-know where she—-“ he met his end from Maggie, who had enough of the absent of clear answers.

“I’m the last one here. If you’re smart, you wouldn’t kill me if you want to know where she is” Which he didn’t know. “She’s always been this much trouble. You’re only signing yourselves up for someone who leaves when we were only doing her a favor”

“The injuries she bears, have nothing to do with “doing her a favor”” Glenn frowns keeping his attention on the man like the others, until he felt something from above hit him. He kept his composure letting Rick take lead in talking while he looked up while the others were still focused on the man. Finding Y/N hiding in the trees but also moving herself to get above the man.

“What did you do to her?” Daryl knew from what he saw, but how it happened was still a mystery. “What did she do to you to have what happened to her, happen?”

“Asking a lot of questions. She got what she deserved and she still needs to pay for a lot of it”

Michonne gave a quick glance to Rick in a way of telling him to just end this man. But she was observant enough to hear the movement above resulting in her and Glenn grabbing the few in front (Daryl, Rick, and Maggie) to pull them back letting Y/N fall from the tree and on top of this guy.

The force causing him to collapse and Y/N instantly drove her knife into his neck. She rolled off the man leaving the knife in him as she felt hands on her resulting in a total body jerk away when it was just Daryl helping her. He didn’t help until she relaxed enough and while he helped her, Rick searched through their packs finding some food they desperately needed.

Maggie went through one of them and pulled out a few photos held together by a paper clip. Only to realize Y/N was in these photos and they weren’t what you think given she was taken by disgusting men. It was photos that originally were hers and they had taken everything of hers.

“These belong to you” Maggie said with a soft reassuring smile as she gave Y/N the photos resulting in a few tears spilling from her eyes in relief. “How’d you…even end up with these guys?”

Y/N held the photos in her hands finding one of her and her family resulting in more tears but she quickly wiped them away. “I was with my family and we got into trouble with someone? Even in the end, there are people with power and these guys were sent after us when we left…and they wanted to do certain things to me that only got my dad and brother killed trying to protect me.”

“Did they—-“

“No…I kept fighting back to a point they had enough and just” Y/N gestures to herself and her injuries which were being eyed the entire time given she’s opened a few bandages resulting in a few bleeding again.

“Let’s get back to the others…get some rest” Maggie gave a warm smile to her as they all made sure there were no more before making their way back.

Finally their group settles with no threat other than walkers…everyone slept except for Rick on watch, and Daryl and Y/N who were too awake in that moment. He helped her with new bandages but she couldn’t help but get a feeling from him.

“You…are a protective person aren’t you?”

“What?”

“When I stumbled into your group, you didn’t hesitate to invite me in and protect me from the harm that is no longer a threat”

“There will always be a threat. You’re just…a part of us now. We’re protective of each other”

Y/N couldn’t help but strike that cord.

“I would protect the next person needing to be saved if I lost someone dear to me” She didn’t need to know about Beth, all she needed to know was the feeling and that’s what she got from his.

His silence only gave her the answer. She reached out and took his hand squeezing it to reassure him even if she didn’t know how it happened, that it wasn’t his fault.

“I barely know yea, and vise versa…yet you know so much”

“I’m good at reading body language when I’m not in distress. It comes in handy”

“Hm. Well. Aside from that, get to know us without reading just body language”

“I will” Y/N smiles, giving a soft thank you when he finished the last bandage. Daryl rose to his feet going to relieve Rick of his watch but as he looked back at her, she kept a smile.

It will come in handy one day, knowing someone just from their body language.

Daryl sat on the porch railing one night with one of his homemade cigarettes in hand thinking too hard on something. His attention instantly snapping out of it when the front door opened letting Dog out but also for Y/N to step out and sit next to him.

“I don’t—-“

“I know, but I’m here��� Y/N reassures every thought coursing in his mind with that smile of hers which brought him to wrap his arm around her shoulders bringing her close.

“You do just know things”

[some-stars]

logan/wade rough sex with wade crying!!!

okay, so obviously you know the context for this but for everyone else: this is a canon-divergence AU sequel to a fic of mine that I haven't finished yet. all you need to know is that Logan and Wade hooked up during Origins, fell for each other and ran off together, and also they are both fucked up but wade is very fucked up.

content notes: consensual sex but it's fucked up, face slapping, painful sex, possessiveness, masochism, praise, spit, kind of sweet despite all that. i'm high so i might have forgotten something, read at your own risk. i don't think i did tho!

--

The only thing that stops Logan from slamming Wade up against the wall the second the last body drops is the urgent need for them to get clear of the scene before the cops show up. As it is, they make it about half a mile before he snaps and drags Wade down an alley, the simmering anger in his skull boiling over at the way Wade laughs when he does it. It's clear Wade's still riding the high from the fight, and when his back hits the bricks he grins like crazy.

"All that killing got you so hot and bothered, huh, cupcake?" He bats his eyelashes like a goddamn cartoon. "You just can't wait till we get home to take it out on me? I'm not complaining, I love a nice nasty back alley fuck. Something about getting reamed five feet from a dumpster really tickles the old pickle."

Logan would love to be able to say that his hand moves without him meaning to move it, that he slaps Wade across the face on a blind, furious impulse. But that would be a lie. He chooses to do it.

He kisses Wade right after, because the flash of hurt and fear that crosses his face is too much to look at. Too much to think about, how right it feels to put it there. Wade melts into the kiss just like he always does, permanently desperate for affection no matter how much of it Logan gives him. Logan holds his face with one hand--the side he hit, hot and flushed with blood--and kisses Wade like he's claiming him, deep and demanding. When Logan takes his lower lip between his teeth Wade tenses and whimpers, anticipating pain, but Logan doesn't break the skin. He's already smelled enough of Wade's blood tonight, enough for a fucking lifetime.

He pulls back just enough to look Wade in the eye. "What the fuck were you thinking back there?"

The slap shook him but he’s already recovering, raising his eyebrows and starting to smirk. "Well, you know how it is when that battle haze comes over you. It’s all just flow state and instinct. And a dash of horny, once things really get going--"

Logan gives him a shake, maybe harder than he means to. It shuts him up, though, so maybe just hard enough. "You still don’t give a shit if you get killed," he says, low and dangerous. "Is that why you wanted to get into this mercenary gig? You got bored of not nearly fucking dying all the time?"

"I didn’t--" 

"You got shot!"

"Grazed," Wade snaps, starting to struggle against Logan’s bruising grip. "I got lightly grazed, all those guys had terrible aim, it doesn’t even hurt anymore--"

This time when Logan kisses him he can't make himself hold back. The taste of blood sizzles on his tongue like lightning, sweet and hot, and the high hurt noise his teeth tear from Wade makes it hard to find any regret.

"You don't get to do that shit anymore," Logan growls. "You don't get to throw away what's mine."

It slides home as smooth as a skeleton key, unlocking Wade like he knew it would. His hips jerk forward and his head falls back against the bricks, already babbling an apology as he offers up his throat. Logan rewards him with a hand fisted tight in his hair to pull his head back even farther, and sharp teeth clamped down hard around the thick cord of muscle that runs from neck to shoulder. Not tearing him open, now, because he doesn't want that. He doesn't even want the blood, really, not when he's in his right mind. It's just that Wade still wants so badly to give it to him.

Logan hurts him like that until the apologies turn into begging, until his cock is as hard as Wade's where they're grinding together. "Please," Wade repeats, choked and thick.

"Yeah? You want something?" Logan kisses him again before he can answer, just long enough to feel Wade open up for him. It's not enough, though. Three fingers in his mouth feels closer to what he wants, and Wade sucks on them gratefully, moaning. Like any way Logan wants to be inside him is the best thing he's ever felt. He doesn't close his eyes, either, even though Logan knows he wants to, how hard it is for Wade to let Logan watch him like this. But Logan asked him for it, once. Before he knew just how careful he had to be about asking Wade to give him things.

"You want me to show you how you're mine?" Logan asks, and Wade nods and mumbles around the fingers in his mouth, incoherent and desperately affirmative. Logan pulls his fingers out and wipes them on Wade's cheek, leaving a thick smear of wet that glitters in the faint, distant glow of the streetlights. Wade shivers, finally squeezing his eyes shut, but offers no other protest.

(Not that he would. Logan's seen him come from being spat on, which was so nightmarishly arousing to watch that he hasn't tried it again since.)

When Wade had finally realized Logan was serious about refusing to fuck him dry, he'd become obsessive about stashing lube everywhere, including the pockets of his work clothes. Logan fishes the packet out now, and when Wade realizes what he's reaching for he almost trips over his own feet turning around so fast. With his cheek pressed to the wall, eyes closed, back arched to present himself, he looks ripped from the kind of magazine that gets sold in brown paper wrapping. The kind you have to ask for, at very specific stores. He looks obscene, and Logan hasn't even gotten his pants down yet.

It's the work of a moment to shove them down around his knees and get his own belt and fly open just enough so he can use the scant handful of lube on himself. Wade shudders at the wet sound, his back curving into an even deeper arch. A cat in heat, desperate to be put down. No matter how sweet Logan is to him it's always this waiting underneath, this shape that other hands bent Wade into long before Logan ever met him.

He loves Wade like this, because there isn't any way he doesn't love Wade; no possible shape of him that Logan wouldn't want exactly this much.

Logan pulls him open and forces his way in too fast, offering not even a breath for Wade's body to welcome him the way it always does, surely would if Logan gave him the chance, but he doesn't and Wade can't entirely swallow the little scream that slips out. His whole back tenses as his body struggles on instinct to get away from what's hurting it, but there's nowhere to go with the wall at his face and Logan boxing him in everywhere else.

Logan leans in close as he settles into a quick hard pace. Already Wade's breathing fast and scared, his hands balled into useless fists, all fear and misery, forgetting why he wanted this so fucking bad. 

"You need someone to hurt you," he rasps into Wade's ear, "you don't pull that kind of dumb shit. You come to me."

Another harsh snap of his hips makes Wade's breath hitch. For a moment he goes even more tense and tight beneath Logan, and a trembling little moan slides past his lips. Logan thinks about stopping; doesn't.

"Come on, Wade," he murmurs. He licks the hollow behind Wade's ear. The slick of sweat that dissolves into his tongue tastes like honey. "Be good for me."

More magic words. Wade sobs and the panicky all-over clench of him eases a little, and a few moments later a little more. Logan's next thrust feels more like fucking, less like cruelty. Enough less, at least.

He smells Wade's tears before he sees them. "Good boy," Logan tells him, which makes him cry harder, but he thanks Logan anyway. Can't seem to stop thanking him, even as he sobs, and it's almost a shocked kind of sound, the way he cries, like a kid with their first broken arm.

God, it feels so fucking good. He's never going to be able to make Wade stop giving him everything because he likes it so much, he fucking loves it, every single time.

Wade comes almost as soon as Logan gets his hand around him, and Logan fills his ear with stupid praise as he works him through it, how he's so good, so tight, so sweet, so good for Logan, so fucking good to him, better than anybody should be. 

Logan doesn't last long either after that, way too worked up do anything but give into it. Wade shakes as Logan fills him, his sobs slowing to sniffles and hitching damp breaths. Logan wraps his arms around him and nuzzles down into his neck, breathing him in deep, and for a minute they stay like that.

Logan waits for his cock to go soft and lets himself slip out as gently as he can. As soon as he's free Wade spins in his arms and grabs his face and kisses him, demanding. It's nothing Logan doesn't want to give him, so he does, all of it, everything Wade wants. Even when Wade breaks off and looks away, swallowing roughly, and says, "Tell me again."

"That you're mine?" Logan watches his eyes close. "You know you are."

"Yeah," Wade sighs. When he opens his eyes again he looks tender, exhausted. Soft. "So take me home already, daddy. It's past my bedtime."

"I fucking hate that daddy shit," Logan mutters. Wade falls into step beside him as he starts back down the street, so close they could be sharing an umbrella, stays soft and close and quiet the whole way home.

[stellarbit]

But Do Remember Often

1.8k words Warnings: Sad and I definitely cried teared up writing this.

Spoilers... ish? If you need some Tech closure, this might be for you.

Listen to this while you read it.

You wake to find yourself back in the Marauder with Tech and you have a choice to make.

Filtering in through a fog of pain and ringing in your ears, came the hum of the Marauder controls. You lightly touched your head, blinking your eyes open. The dim light of space mingled with the soft red and white controls around you. You didn’t remember when you’d fallen asleep, but there you were, slumped in the copilot chair of the Marauder.

“Ah, you are awake.” Tech’s voice came from your left.

His voice bubbled up a pleasant hum from your chest. You smiled, rolling your head to the side to find him facing you in the pilot’s seat. “How long have I been out?”

Tech sat stiffly in the chair, his hands gripping his thighs. His eyes momentarily darted to the floor before settling on the void beyond the viewport. “I… am uncertain.”

His hesitancy crinkled your nose. Adjusting yourself in the seat, you scanned the stars around you. The lingering drowsiness blurred your memory of the voyage. “Tech, how much longer do we have?”

He was silent for a moment too long, his gaze lingering on the star-strewn void outside before meeting yours with a weight that seemed to pull at the very air between you. "We... don't have a destination, not in the way you think." Tech sighed, continuing, “Before we discuss further, it's crucial to address your current state."

Your heart skipped. Something in his tone, the heaviness of his pause, stirred a dread deep within you. "What do you mean?"

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. "You are unconscious. You were injured during the mission on Tantiss - a mission I was not a part of.” The room seemed to spin slightly as his words sank in.

A pain throbbed dully at the back of your mind, urging you to focus through the haze. The distant sound of metal and earth colliding echoed through you.

"Unconscious? But I'm here, talking to you." You shook your head lightly, finding some joke in his words. “I don’t... remember being injured." You did a quick scan of your body, but nothing was amiss. 

Tech’s grip on his thighs tightened, sympathy flickering in his eyes, “You wouldn’t. It happened before... before you entered this state."

“State?” You scoffed, but images flashed by you. Falling through the forest, blaster fire, impact - all blurring together. Blinking away the scene, you focused again on Tech. For the first time, you noticed light shimmer around him.

A knowing knot formed in your throat, threatening to make you sick. Deep within your chest, locked far from your mind, a crack split wide open and the pain that followed cut off your air supply.

Quivering and choked up, you managed to ask, “If I’m here because of my injuries, then why are you here?" A tear, a premonition of what was to come, slipped from your eye and nothing could stop the rest that followed.

“Physically, you are not here with me. Nor am I with you.” Tech explained carefully, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment. You choked again at the sight. “I was not with you on Tantiss because I could not be. I perished, months ago, on Eriadu”

The revelation, the memory, felt like a cold wave flooding you.  “Tech,” you said his name in a desperate plea, as if calling it out could halt time itself. Still, you shook, your entire body rocking slightly as your head bobbed from side to side.

Tech said your name softly, his tone a beacon, snapping your attention back and anchoring you to the moment. You tried to hold back the frown, the devastation; the denial was suffocating.

He swallowed hard, the motion visible, and rose from his chair to kneel before you. His eyes lingered over you, soaking in the sight as if memorizing every detail. Tech clenched a hand into a fist; this was as hard for him as it was for you. 

“What’s happening?” You weren’t sure if you’d ever asked him so many questions before. A part of you feared you were wasting precious moments in doing so.

“It would stand to reason,” he began, his voice steady despite the emotion he worked to mask, “that in moments like these, the mind can create vivid, immersive experiences, or even memories.”

His analytical eyes met yours, and though they were filled with a deep sorrow at seeing the terror washing over you, he knew he had to let you navigate through this realization on your own.

“So this,” You sobbed, “This isn’t real?”

A faint smile pulled at the corner of his lips. Something you so cherished, lost for months, and now breaking your heart. “I am here, as much as any memory or echo can be.” Tech brought a knuckle to his chin, tapping as he processed it himself. “It's not uncommon for those with your abilities to have... visions, especially under extreme stress or near-death conditions.”

You absorbed his words, the clinical detachment with which he presented this stark reality clashing with the emotional turmoil it wrought within you. It was so like Tech to relay even the most heartbreaking news in such a factual manner.

Tech continued, “When I died, part of me remained, anchored through the force and connected to you because of our bond. It would be an apt hypothesis, all things considered, that that is how we can still speak, how I can still be by your side in this way. It's rare, uncharted…” He shook his head, clearly amazed himself. “I cannot provide all the answers. But I believe it’s your will that brought us here.”

So you were alone, yet not alone; you were communicating with something beyond the physical, a part of Tech that had refused to let go entirely.

"And what about me?" you whispered, your voice barely a breath. "Am I... am I dying?"

"Not entirely, no," Tech said firmly. "I believe you are caught in between, because of your injury. But this state... it's temporary. You can return."A selfish part of him seemed to surface, hesitant but honest, “It is your choice,” he added, the words heavy with implication.

You covered your face in your hands, wondering if you’d ever be able to breathe again. Two gloved hands tugged on your hands. Looking up, you could barely see Tech through the floodgate of tears. 

Tech reached up with a hand that, you knew, could never truly touch yours again. Yet, you felt it on your cheek brushing away the ceaseless tears. Tech's voice was gentle as he said, “But I am gone from the living world. And you... you have a choice to make: to stay lost in these memories, or to move forward.”

The pain was immense, squeezing your chest until you thought you might shatter. "How can I leave you, Tech? After everything?"

His hand still on yours, he squeezed. “I am quite aware of your strength. You are one of the strongest people I have ever known.” His head tilted in a strangely confident way. It almost made you smile. “Besides, seeing as how I am not going anywhere, you would not be leaving me.”

He stood, drawing your attention upward as he rose. Taking a step back, he gently pulled on your hand, guiding you out of the chair.

Tech stood before you, still holding your hand in the space between you, his expression adorned with a proud smile. "You will always be fascinating," he declared. Then, with a gentle tug at your waist, he drew you close to him.

The sturdiness of his presence was undeniable. You swept your hand up his neck, feeling him solid beneath your touch. You felt him there, could even smell him—every detail vivid, every memory of him acute. You missed everything about him.

“I’d like to ask you something,” he said, his gaze shifting between your eyes, a keen observer eager to capture every nuance of your reaction.

Your voice, barely a whisper, surprised you. “Yes?” When had your tears ceased?

He leaned in closer, his presence enveloping, his eyes searching yours for the truths they held. “Do you regret joining Clone Force 99?”

You took a sharp inhale, your hand instinctively tightening around his neck. “Never.”

“Do you regret knowing me?”

“Tech.” You hissed in final warning. “Now is not the time to make me mad.”

Tech hummed victoriously. “I’m merely gathering evidence to prove my theory.”

“What theory?”

“Why the right choice is to move on.” Tech chuckled as he gently started to sway with you. “Though you will find it difficult to forget my extraordinary mind.”

His quips, his humorous arrogance, tugged at your heart, making your lip quiver. Tech slowed for a moment, his gaze searching your face, unsure if you were on the brink of tears or laughter.

You expected a laugh to taste of ash, but when it came, it didn’t feel so wrong. “How could I ever forget?”

Tech’s eyes widened as he watched a smile spread across your lips. The sight seemed to delight him, a glimmer of his affectionate pride shining through.

He considered asking you to linger; he knew he’d never tire of your company. He’d be content to spend eternity with you. Yet, as he began to sway with you once more, a different thought took precedence.

He cleared his throat and said, “Then it is obvious. Remember me if you want, but you must carry on.” He ducked closer, resting his forehead on yours. "But I quite like the idea of you smiling whenever you think of me, for the rest of your life."

Tech brushed his lips against yours before pressing in with a kiss. 

You felt a tremor in your hand, but his steady grip stilled you. “Tech, I’ve missed you so much.”

"I know, and I you," he replied. "But death is a part of life, an unavoidable end. And my end…” Tech sighed and continued. “Was my choice." 

He pulled away, his hands shifting to your shoulders. “Now, you have a choice.”

You touched his hands, attempting a wobbly smile. “What would I do without you?”

Tech gazed into your eyes, his expression resolved. "You will live," he said. "You'll thrive, because that's what you do now. You adapt, you overcome."

He paused, a smile tingling at the corners of his mouth. "Make new memories, ones that I'd be proud to be a part of in spirit. Remember me often."

His touch lingered a moment longer before he slowly stepped back, "And since I am not going anywhere.” He adjusted his goggles and smirked. “It falls to you to keep the others safe, they certainly need it.” 

With a final nod, Tech turned slightly, indicating that your time together was nearing its natural conclusion, not because he was vanishing, but because you were ready. "You’re more capable than you realize. Trust in that. And when you need to, trust that I'm still here, in the memories you carry and the decisions you make."

He tipped two fingers at you. In a final quip he said, “But do remember me often.”