#just wanted to share my most unlucky evening
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
the eldest daughters:
I've been in the works of a rhaenyra x f!reader fic for a while now, and it's omegaverse (cross posted on ao3) (my bad guys, accidentally posted it twice lmaoo)
TW: typical targcest between cousins, violence
Summary: Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, a proud and stubborn alpha, is set to marry her omega cousin, you, Princess Alerys Targaryen, in a manner to keep the blood of the dragon pure. You share the blood of the dragon, as well as the fire of it. In the end, however, all depends on if you can both manage to keep the realm out of war; war between kin, and war between dragons.
Chapter 1: The Heir's Tournament
Youâd always known youâd end up with Rhaenyra, that much was obvious. You two had grown up practically attached at the hip after Daemon took you from your mother, Rhea Royce. He didnât like her; âhis bronze bitchâ, as he called her, but still needed to produce some form of a child between them.
So he tried, once. Once is all he needed to do, because she had fallen pregnant soon after, much to both his luck and unluckiness. He didnât want to do that again, hell, he didnât want to do it in the first place.
You ended up taking your motherâs slightly tanned complexion and her dark brown hair, but your fatherâs eyes and streaks of white hair, luckily, which you normally braid back. A light purple, the only other trademark of Valyrian descent. He hated being reminded of the fact that he had had a child with her , but he had to have at least produced a child, but he loved you, in spite of having came from your mother.
Growing up with Rhaenyra in Kingâs Landing wasnât bad, if thatâs what was thought. It was the best place for you to grow up, on the contrary. You are a princess, not just some normal high-born lordâs daughter. Youâre a princess of the realm, a Targaryen. Even if he wanted to, Daemon wouldnât leave you with Rhea to grow up with her, to not have the luxuries you should- but did- grow up with.
You and Rhaenyra were mischievous kids, to say the least. Truthfully, they called you the âtwin terrorsâ. But make no mistake, that didnât stop you two. While you were indeed a princess of the realm, that didnât stop you from wanting to pursue sword fighting. Not just because itâs interesting, but because itâd be the one thing you could have that could make your father proud of you.
You had natural skill, quite a prodigy, but not a prodigy in the eyes of every man in that training yard, purely because of their bias and overall thinking. But thatâs normal.
By the time Rhaenyra presented as an alpha, most people of the court were surprised. They expected her to be an omega- to be submissive to her alpha, which they assumed would have been you, with your tall and slightly well built physique and your more masculine tendencies. And when you presented as an omega shortly after her, it caused nearly double the surprise that Rhaenyraâs presentation did.
And now, with all the commotion of Aemma and Viserysâ coming child- one that Viserys hopes is a boy, itâs as if the pair of you two have been left to your own devices. Along with Alicent as well, of course. She followed you and Rhaenyra in presenting shortly after yourself- at around 14 as an omega as well.
Regardless of the now stark differences between you and Rhaenyra, it was mostly all still the same since your presentations. Only thing was that guards were set at your doors when either of you went into your heats or ruts, because Rhaenyra is absolutely impulsive, reckless, and would gladly have taken that chance to have you early ahead of your coming wedding. And you would have let her have you.
But oh, yes, your wedding.
Rhaenyra presented at 14 and you a few moons shortly after her, so Viserys thought it would be best to betroth you two, to keep the blood of the dragon pure and what not.
It was the smartest idea to come out of him since him having made and named Rhaenyra.
The Heirâs Tournament is grand, as befit for the coming birth of Viserysâ new child, whom he very much hopes is a boy, and who he and Aemma (mostly Viserys though) have named Baelon in advance of the childâs birth. Although, Rhaenyra claims she wants a sister, and claims sheâll be a girl, even as while she and you were very close as kids, you werenât sisters neither thought of each other as such, luckily.
By the time Rhaenyra finally arrives at the royal box, Alicent and mostly everyone else has already been seated, and it looks as if she was the last one there, excluding yourself because sheâs sure youâre down there getting ready to compete. Despite everything, despite yourself having presented as an omega, Rhaenyra hadnât witnessed her father or your father say anything to you about quitting and stopping your ânonsensical bullshitâ of training and fighting.
She supposes thatâs what happens when youâre skilled, regardless of secondary gender, she thinks to herself, as she sits down next to Alicent on her right. The seat on Rhaenyraâs right is empty as well, being the one youâd usually sit in next to her when watching tournaments.
Viserys glances at her, and after recognizing that his daughter is there and accounted for, he stands and speaks, his voice oddly booming for once, âQueen Aemma has begun her labors!â He announces, much to the joy of the crowds and the people in the royal box as they clap and smile at him for a few moments before he sits back down and prepares for the first joust; between a knight of House Tarly and an unnamed knight.
Hooves of horses sound like thunder as the first men collide in a joust, with the unhorsing of the Tarly knight occurring with a sharp crack of the unnamed knightâs lance against his shield, or perhaps against his breastplate- although itâs hard to tell from Rhaenyraâs sightline. The unnamed knight seems to have no real way of differentiating him from a sword on the ground due to his bland and mis-matched armor with no house sigil.
Rhaenyra looks at him with slight interest, seeing as the man managed to unhorse a Tarly squire in one fell thrust of his lance.
âA mystery knight?â She inquires, with Alicent responding next to her, âNo. A Cole, of the Stormlands.â
âIâve never heard of House Cole.â Alicent would slightly shrug at Rhaenyraâs words, as they looked at the other knights, who with their decorated armor and resplendent jewels look every bit the part of wealthy noblemen who have never seen an inch of battle or war.
They spot one in specific, and Rhaenyra has a bit of gossip to share regarding him, so she tilts her body toward Alicent just enough to whisper to her without the possibility of prying ears, âLord Stokeworthâs daughter is promised to that young squire.â
âLord Masseyâs daughter?â Alicent asks, as Rhaenyra nods and continues, âTheyâre to be married as soon as he wins his knighthood.â Alicent almost scoffs in amusement, but finishes their little gossip session with an added soft chuckle, âHeâd best get on with it. I heard that Lady Elinor is hiding a swollen belly beneath her dress.â
Rhaenyra almost bursts out laughing at the news, but manages to control it into a small giggle as she leans back into her seat, watching Lord Boremund Baratheon ride over to the royal box, with his house sigil, a proud black and gold stag, etched onto his armor, and banners on his horse. He lifts his lance up toward Rhaenys, prompting her to stand and walk over to him as everyone watches him ask for her favor.
âI would humbly ask for the favor of âThe Queen Who Never Wasâ.â
Rhaenys nods her head and indulges him, grabbing a favor and placing it on his lance as she offers him good fortune in the coming joust, even as he almost disregards her comment, âI would gladly take it- if I thought I needed it.â
That comment just rubs Rhaenyra the wrong way, as Otto grumbled something about Viserys possibly having Boremundâs tongue out for that. It rubs Rhaenyra the wrong way personally because despite her father being the king, she felt as if the crown should have been Rhaenysâ. She was Aemonâs only living child, and she was still passed over for the crown twice. Once for Baelon, and another time for Viserys.
Over the set of the next few minutes, they just speak amongst each other until the Master of Revels introduces who is one of the main competitors of the event.
âSer Daemon of House Targaryen, Prince of the City, will now choose his first opponent!â
Daemon, Rhaenyraâs uncle, and soon-to-be father-in-law as well.
The smallfolk in the stands cheer loudly for him as he rides out on his steed, as Daemon is wearing black-scaled armor, with the helm looking like a dragonâs head. The other knights from the lists are lined up- once again minus yourself.
While Daemon trots his horse down the line, scrutinizing and choosing his opponent, Rhaenyraâs thoughts obviously wander to you. You wouldnât miss a single chance to embarrass your father, especially if itâs in a joust, or even if you get embarrassed yourself, because youâd get to fight Daemon regardless.
âWhere is she?â Rhaenyra would mutter to herself, one of her arms moving to rest on the arm rest as one of her thumbs played with the ring on her middle finger. Alicent notices Rhaenyraâs small mutter and her fidgeting with her rings- not that sheâs much better because she picks at her nails.
But she notices regardless, and decides to distract her a bit by speaking of who he might choose, âDaemon will surely choose to face one of the great houses. Though he probably doesnât want to tilt against someone heâs never faced.â She notes, getting Rhaenyra to sit back up a bit as Daemon chooses Ser Gwayne Hightower, Alicentâs older brother and Ottoâs eldest son, with aiming his lance toward him.
This makes Alicent slightly frown, as Rhaenyra looks on in contemplation. The one person she wants to see compete in this bloody tournament isnât even here yet, and itâs maddening, because she knows youâre a damn good warrior. Otto doesnât even flinch at Daemonâs choosing of opponent, he expected it, if anything.
Daemon and Gwayne line up in their lanes, and charge toward one another. Daemonâs tactic of forcing the other manâs lance to drive into the dirt and throw him off the horse works, and Gwayne lands face first into the ground under him and his steed. Once Daemon wins, he takes a victory lap around, and then rides up to the royal box as he takes off his helm and wows the crowd with his obvious good looks.
Rhaenyra, Alicent, and truthfully, most- if not all- the ladies in the royal box immediately swoon, as Alicent and Rhaenyra go up and walk to him, as they both smile, Rhaenyraâs smile being just a touch more polite than anything else, as is Alicentâs.
âNicely done, uncle.â Rhaenyra notes with a hint of praise, as Daemon gives her a small nod, acknowledging her words, âThank you, Princess.â Then Daemon turned his eyes toward Alicent, tilting his lance up toward her, and then asking in an almost smug tone, âIâm fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent. Having your favor would all but assure it.â
At that, Alicent is almost taken aback, even with the blush on her face from the question. But she does as he requests, grabbing a favor and placing it on the lance, as it slides to the base, with Rhaenyra going back to sit down as Alicent offers some final words. âGood luck, my prince.â
Rhaenyra looks almost amused, but she doesnât want to give away that this genuinely makes her laugh, as Otto glares down at Daemon. Beating his son, then asking his daughter for a favor, as if heâs someone he should cross?
All in all, the hostility between his younger brother and his Hand amuses Viserys to no end.
The tournament rages on, and finally, you make an appearance. Youâre up against a member of House Tyrell, a knight of no real consequence. Even his movements on his horse seem sloppy, if anything.
The moment Rhaenyra spots your recognizable dragon armor- the same colors as Daemonâs armor, black and red, as it should be for most Targaryens- the helm, mostly, since itâs reminiscent of your dragon, Aeryx and her horn shape, she grins, finally able to relax and know youâre about to wipe the floor with that Tyrell man. Or maybe a boy, more like it.
âAnd now, for her first match of the day, Ser Alerys of House Targaryen, daughter of the Prince of the City, is tilting against Ser Heron of House Tyrell!â The smallfolk all cheer and clap at the mention and sight of their princeâs daughter, as the nobles in the royal box clap for both competitors.
Viserys both visibly smiles and looks worried. Not for you, but for Heron Tyrell. If youâre anything like Daemonâ and you are, after all, heâs known you since you were a babeâ youâre definitely going to either bend the rules a bit, or say âfuck allâ and just beat the man half to death. With the way Daemon handled Gwayne in his own match, he doesnât doubt you were most definitely watching him and are taking pointers from him and his own actions.
Regardless, the smallfolk calm down a bit as you and Heron trot into your respective lanes after your introductions from the Master of Revels, as you watch Rhaenyra and Alicent stand up and walk to the guard-rails of the royal box to watch this joust. Theyâre your closest friends, and your cousin is set to marry you in a year or so, so it would only make sense for them to want to closely watch you embarrass a Tyrell.
You look up at Rhaenyra and Alicent, giving them a small nod and smile through your helm, with only your eyes and the middle of your lips visible through the small vertical open area of your black iron helm. They smile back at you, with Alicentâs smile being more friendly than Rhaenyraâs small smirk. The girl lives for both hearing drama and causing it.
Once you look back at Heron, itâs as if you can tell heâs nervous from beneath the visor of his helm, because his hand is slightly shaking as he holds his lance and shield. Now, for the lance, it might just be that itâs heavy, so you wonât blame him for that if thatâs the case.
After a few more moments of a wait, you both charge toward the other, having a narrow field to aim your lance and hope it strikes true on either his shield or on his breastplate to push him off. Once you both get close, you meet the edge of his shield, but the tip of the lance slides to the side to strike his armored shoulder as heâs pushed almost off his saddle as you both ride down the line to the end to turn back around and go for a second charge if he can sit up. His own lance had missed- sliding off the iron edge of your own shield, which didnât help him stay on his saddle, as he fell the moment the horse turned to the other side, falling into the mud of the tiltyard and losing the joust.
The crowd loudly applauds at their princessâs win, having all expected her to easily best the Tyrell knight, as Rhaenyra and Alicent stood at the rails the entire time, witnessing the usage of strategy that you used (you just aimed at his shield), and how you made the best of missing his shield.
You ride up to the royal box, removing your helm and holding it in your lap as you look up at them, as if a knight in shining armor.
âPrincess Rhaenyra. Lady Alicent.â You greet, giving each one a small nod as a smile rose on your face regardless of who you were looking atâ even if it rose mainly due to Rhaenyra. She looks beautiful in that dress, with the red and golds contrasting perfectly with herself. You donât even have to address them with honorifics, you just want to. Besides, if you want to play as a knight right now, you have to be as courteous as one would be.
âI wouldnât suppose that I could have your favor for the coming fights, could I, Princess?âÂ
âOnly you would be so bold as to ask for my favor over such a minor joust, Alerys..â Rhaenyra thinks to herself, slightly tilting her head and having a small smile on her lips. She keeps eye contact with you, before giving her oral answer, dancing around it a bit before really answering.
âHmm, I would suppose so, my gallant knight.â She walked over to where the favors are, and grabbed one as her father looked at her with a small neutral look for a moment before letting a small smile come on his lips and give a slight nod to her as if to say, âGo ahead.â
It's not like Viserys doesn't want Rhaenyra and you to not have fun neither not show that you are both steadily ready for your coming marriage, and giving you her favor would only reinforce the thoughts of most nobles; loyalty.
Otto side eyes Viserys for a moment, watching as the king gives the go-ahead to Rhaenyra to place the favor of a wreath of red roses on your lance, watching it slide down to the base.
Of course, Otto, being the King's Hand and a.. a friend , agreed with him the moment he suggested Rhaenyra and you be betrothed.
Though, his ambitions are large, large enough to take heavy steps to the crown if need be. Truthfully, he should have pushed to possibly have betrothed Alicent and Rhaenyra. It's not like Alicent isn't pleasant looking and Rhaenyra doesn't have affection for herâ she does. But he's not sure as to how he might have taken it, especially since this was likely one of the few things that Viserys and Daemon had agreed on doing for their daughters in a while now.
But he's sure that with a bit of persuasion , or perhaps seduction of sorts from Alicentâs way toward Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra might voice her opinion to want to marry someone other than the obvious choice of her cousin with Targaryen blood..
But Otto quickly gets himself out of his own head and plans, watching as you and Rhaenyra conversed for another few moments, with you claiming brave words of victory.
âWhen I win this entire tourney, Iâll come up and name you my Queen of Love and Beauty, cousin.â Your words came with a cocky grin, looking up at Rhaenyra, as she just quickly snorted, out of humor if nothing else. Just the name of âcousinâ toward one another makes her laugh, as she humored you.
âWeâll see when you win then, wonât we?â Rhaenyra smiled, slightly tilting her head for a moment as she kept eye contact with you for a bit more before you placed your helm back on and rode back toward the boy acting as your squire.
Alicent- who was witnessing the entire flirting session between the two of you, side-eyes Rhaenyra, having a look of something similar to saying, âWell, Iâm sorry I was here to witness this..â, as they sit back down.
Over the course of the rest of the day, Lord Boremund Baratheon is humbled and promptly knocked off his horse by the previously unnamed knight, the Cole of the Stormlands, who they announce as, âSer Criston Coleâ. Now with a complete name to the man, Rhaenyra is partially curious about him, so she waves over for Ser Harrold Westerling, her Kingsguard knight, to ask him about the man.
âWhat do you know about this Ser Criston Cole, Ser Harrold?â She asked, as he seemed to think about it for a moment, responding back to his princess to the best of what he was told. âI have been asking the same thing, Princess. Iâm told Ser Criston is common-born, the son of Lord Blackhavenâs steward. Other than that, and the fact that he has unhorsed both of the Baratheon lads, I could not say.â
They watch as Ser Criston lines back up in the lane as he awaits his next opponent.
The Master of Revels calls out the next opponent, âSer Criston Cole will now tilt against Ser Daemon Targaryen, Prince of the City!â
That catches Rhaenyraâs attention again, seeing as her uncle is about to tilt against this Ser Criston. She thinks Daemon will make quick work of him, and then after that, he would probably joust against you, his own daughter. However, he might have the slightest bit more pity for you, and not be as harsh as he would normally be with any other opponent.
Both Alicent and Rhaenyraâs interest peaked at this match, as they stay seated but watch with careful eyes, as Ser Harrold stood and walked back to his post.
The joust is a quick one, with both of them charging toward one another, as Daemon hits Cristonâs breastplate dead on, breaking his lance. Unfortunately, Daemon is the one who is dismounted, with the amount of force he placed into the attack, heâs forced back, falling off his horse and onto his back.
Though, he quickly scrambles back up and signals to his squires to bring him Dark Sister, offering it to him hilt first, as he quickly draws said swordâ the Valyrian steel rippling in the light of the afternoon sun.
âPrince Daemon wishes to continue in a melee!â The Master of Revels proclaims, as the crowd cheers and hollers, with Ser Criston dismounting his horse and continuing this match in a melee. While Daemon had a squire to hand him Dark Sister, Criston has no such man, so he runs to grab a morningstar from one of the posts set up with weapons on one side of the tiltyard. But Daemon doesnât wait, he quickly and angrily slashes at him with Dark Sister, with Criston evading with the speed of a much smaller and agile man.
With his evasion, he turns around and snares Dark Sister with the chain, gripping the blade and quickly pulling it away from Daemonâs grip and into the mud. Daemon is disarmed now, as Criston throws him into the ground, hitting him on the back with his morningstar once, to stun him, as he says, âYield.â
But in true Daemon fashion, he triesâ and failsâ to reach for Dark Sister, with Criston kicking away the sword to somewhere else, now standing over Daemon as he holds his morningstar above his head, ready to strike again if he does not yield. The crowds are going absolutely wild, at both Daemon being bested, and Daemon being bested by a relatively unknown knight.
Viserys stands and claps and laughs loudly, as Otto politely claps, but both are appreciating that Daemon has been humbled and bested for once. Criston helps Daemon up out of the mud, as Daemon spits some blood on the ground, angrily.
âWell fought, my prince.â âIt was. By one of us.â
After his snarky answer back, Daemon walks away, picking up Dark Sister as he leaves the tiltyard, and perhaps the tourney grounds in total.
Ser Criston remounts his horse and rides to the royal box, looking up at Alicent and Rhaenyra, and due to having already witnessed the earlier match of you versus the Tyrell boy, decides against asking Rhaenyra for her favor, lest he wins and gains your wrath against him. He removes his helm as Alicent and Rhaenyra come up to the rails, watching him for a moment; witnessing his dark hair, dark eyes, and olive-colored skin.
âGods, heâs Dornish.â Alicent said, almost falling for him right then and there. Of course, Rhaenyra doesnât exactly feel the same thing. Heâs attractive, sure, but heâs not you.
As they witness Cristonâs looks for the first time, a maester comes into the royal box and speaks quietly to Otto, who quickly wears a somewhat distressed face, as he whispers to Viserys, who after receiving the news, quickly but quietly makes his way out of the royal box and into the Red Keep with Otto and the maester, where his wife, Queen Aemma, is having birthing problems.
Criston asks for Alicentâs favor, even as she had earlier given one to Daemon, but her eyes do partially light up as she does, because he chose her and not Rhaenyra to ask for a favor.
Afterwards, the tourney takes a more brutal turn, with bones breaking, blood being spilled every which way, and death being something the slightest bit more common right now, as a Corbray knight walks over to the Tarly knight who unhorsed him, and begins to beat him. Their pages and squires rush to pull them off each other, to no avail.
In the next match after getting them out, itâs Ser Criston versus you, still having the favor that Rhaenyra gave you that was on the base of your lance, which is now on the junction of your left arm, of your inner elbow.
âAnd now, Ser Criston Cole versus Ser Alerys Targaryen!â
You both charge with loud yells, striking true on each otherâs shields, shattering one anotherâs lances, as well as a part of your shield. You rush to throw your broken lance down, grabbing another from your temporary squireâs hand, being careful to grip the inside as Rhaenyra eagerly watches you race down the lane a second time, hoping you knock Criston on his ass, purely because Daemon lost, so you need to win it. For House Targaryen, for your own pride, and for Rhaenyra.
Itâs almost a make or break moment, the moment that you aim in and have a set point as to where the tip of the lance will strike. No, not almost , it is a make or break moment.
Even with the sweat rushing down your forehead and almost into your eyes because of the heat and your heavy black armor, you manage a breath before you collide.
Itâs over in merely a second as you feel the lance hit him, but you also feel his lance against youâ pushing you down as both of you hit each otherâs breastplates with all the speed of the racing horses, and your own strength.
And you are both knocked to the ground at the same time, off your horses- disoriented because of the force- as you barely shuffle up onto your feet, regaining your eyesight as you motion your squire to grab your sword, and he quickly hands you your sword, a well-crafted iron sword, whom you dubbed, Stinger. You couldnât really think of anything better because you were a child when Daemon gave you it.
âAnd they decide to continue into the melee!â
You witness Ser Criston having stood back up as well, grabbing a morningstar, no doubt about to try the same tactics he used on Daemon, considering he knows who heâs facing; his daughter.
You donât slash as angrily as Daemon did, more so just gauging your chances and taking shorter slashes, since he has the advantage of wielding a weapon that could easily dent your breastplate if youâre not careful and if heâs harsh with his strikes.
You both go back and forth for a bit trying to know the otherâs striking pattern, as you get a bit too eager once you see an opening, going for it as he notices and uses the morningstar to hit your shoulder, denting your armor and forcing you down, almost letting go of your sword, but not quite.
He quickly tries to disarm you by kicking your hand, but you grab some dry dirt from a patch, and throw it in his eyes, in classic Daemon fashion, barely getting up and hitting the morningstar out of his hand as he almost wipes at his eyes, forcing them open, growling angrily. This is when he starts going for hand to hand combat, knowing his morningstar is too far to reach now, and heâs partly blinded.
The crowd gasps, seeing as you pulled a âdirty trickâ. Itâs something that- again- Daemon would do, so theyâre not too surprised.Â
Both you and Ser Criston continue, with you pushing him back a bit with your sword, trying to kick him down and make him yield, but he stays up. Itâs frustrating, and almost makes you irritated, but while your frustration and irritation hits you, your distraction gives him an opening, so he shoves your sword aside with his armguard, and makes sure to hit your helm guard with the metal covering his knuckles, forcing it to hit your nose. And with the strength of his punch, it makes you bleed a bit, as you stagger backwards; disoriented again as your vision failed you and eyes started watering.
He grabbed your collar of your neck armor, and threw you down onto the ground as if you were nothing but a sack of flour, in which you groaned as you hit the mud. He places one foot on your hand wielding your sword, and the other on your breastplate, on top of the Targaryen sigil in the middle.
âYield.â He said, knowing youâd have to. You literally canât move with his feet on you.
âI-I.. I yield.â You reluctantly say, and he takes off his feet from you and your body, and moves to give you a hand. Heâs a strong fighter, youâll give him that. But then again, youâre only a 14 year old girl, and you lasted that long and almost bested him. Good try.
You take his hand up, giving him a small nod of thanks, even as the blood rushes down your nose and lips, then down your chin and onto the ground and probably your breastplate.
âGood fight, Ser.â You manage out, as he gives a small nod back, âI say the same to you, my princess.â
The entire fight did rub him the wrong way for a bit, seeing as he was fighting a princess, not a girl specifically. But to be acknowledged by a princess, one that worked to hone her skills to participate in a tourney, is good nonetheless.
You both walk away, to get treated for your wounds, and because Criston pretty much won the entire damn thing already.
And then, not even half an hour later, during a different melee, you join Rhaenyra and Alicent up in the royal box, rubbing at your nose as you sit down in some clean clothes, in a black tunic with red accents and embroidered silver dragons on top of where each breast is.
Rhaenyra looks at you, and feels a bit bad, until she realizes you lost, and totally wasted her favor. âYou wasted my favor, oh, gallant knight.â She sarcastically says, and she doesnât really care about the favor much.
You look at her for a moment, slightly embarrassed and frowning, âSorry. He got my nose, and my eyes started watering.â You grumble, holding it as you witness the new violence down in the tiltyard, whereas Alicent looks away and Rhaenyra- like you- continues to look.
As the violence reaches a standstill, as in the bodies being dragged away after everything, Otto finally returns, and shares the new news to the small council.
âThe Queen lives, but the boy is dead.â He quietly shares, earning a small gasp from some of them. Itâs enough to draw attention, from all three girls down in the first row, as well as from possibly Laena and Laenor.
The Queen lives, but the boy is dead.
Aemma survived off of nothing short of a miracle. They sacrificed Baelonâs life for Aemmaâs, but she is narrowly surviving.
Viserys chose her, in a rare twist of fate.
#wlw#rhaenyra x reader#rhaenyra targaryen x reader#rhaenyra targaryen#female targaryen reader#alicent hightower#daemon targaryen#viserys targaryen#house of the dragon#hotd rhaenyra#oc x canon
83 notes
¡
View notes
Text
I had the most chaotic two hours for no reaso n đđ
There was karaoke event i felt like going to but 25 min before showtime i still hadnt dressed myself
I got an idea for an outfit but couldnt find half the things I wanted to wear (suspenders, bracelets, mascara). When finally having put the outfit together i realised I'd put on one of the shirts inside out so I had to take three layers of shirts off again.
Then I realised my phone was low on battery but couldnt find the powerbank until I remembered it probably still were in the bag from sweden. Having gotten my powerbank it made a fake out dead on me (wouldnt charge my phone for a minute or so).
At this time the 25 min are gone and I am late. I take the elevator down 5 floors to find my backlight on my bike is dead. I walk the 5 floors up again to find a sparelight but I only have one and I fear that one might not be able to sit on my bike so I find some sparebatteries just in case.
As I feared the sparelight falls off and smashes on the road so I am left in pitch black darkness to try to get into the batterycontainer of the original light. As it turns out i have grabbed the wrong batteries so I can choose to go 20 min home or 20 min to the karaoke venue. I chose the latter.
Getting into the city i try to see if the local supermarked is open but surprise it is not because it is easter. So instead I stumble into the nearest 7/11 to buy overpriced bike lights.
After all of this i finally reach the venue. Although the event has been going on for almost an hour at this point only one person is present. I decide that that is too few people for me so I will just use the toilet quickly and ride home. The light on the toilet wont turn off so I have to use my phone flashlight to see.
Luckily nothing happens on my way home except that I take a route i havent before because I think nothing else can possibly go wrong. For once this evening i am right.
So this is the story about how I spend 2 hours on nothing đ
#just wanted to share my most unlucky evening#or chaotic#or whatever you like to call this xD#note to self: charge your phone and powerbank and change batteries on your bike and also maybe tidy up my appartment#micahs foolery
7 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Restless Baby : ĚĚâ Max Verstappen
summary: 1.1k words of dad and husband max trying to fix the angsty mess that he's made
A hum of confusion came from Max as he tapped the space beside him, expecting to feel your figure. Instead he was slapped by the harsh cold of your empty space, the chill in the air leaving Max shivering. He knew bed was where you needed to be, especially with your pregnancy so close to the end.
He slowly sat himself up, brushing his hands over the front of his face. Max steadily stood up, noticing a faint glow of light coming from the doorway. He knew it was you, but he was confused as to what you were still doing up. 2:07 the clock informed him, definitely time for you to be resting. Max crept through the house, moving down the stairs to try and find where you were.
Fast asleep.
Max was almost relieved to see you resting until he noticed how uncomfortable you looked. The guilt struck him as soon as he took you in, knowing that your decision to sleep on the cold, battered sofa was all down to him.
Unlucky for Max, you werenât quite as asleep as he thought you were. You could hear him moving through the room, desperately trying to keep your eyes screwed shut in an attempt to convince Max that you really were asleep and for him to leave you alone. He knew you better though, and knew exactly the way to try and catch you out too.
His head shook as he took a few quiet steps towards you, poking his finger against your arm that hung out from the blanket you had draped over you. Your body jumped at his sudden touch, confident you could hear Max giggling proudly to himself as he sat down beside your figure, giving you a moment to rub the sleep out of your eyes and tilt your head to look across at him.
âThis is ridiculous,â Max told you, resting his arm just above your head.
âI donât want to talk to you,â you huffed, pulling the blanket further around your body, making sure that your bump was well protected and warm.
âJust come and join me in bed.â
Your head shook defiantly back at Max. âWhy would I share a bed with the man who says Iâm distracting his career because he canât get a good nightâs sleep with all my fidgeting. Iâm giving you what you wanted right now, whatâs the problem?â You snapped. Max flinched at your harsh tone, he knew what heâd said was probably the worst thing that he could say, and he knew he had a whole world of making up to do too.
âAccording to my data I got three hours of sleep last night, my coaches are really concerned as to whatâs going on!â
âYou try being seven months pregnant and see how it easy it is to rest at night, Iâm sorry life is so difficult for you Max.â
âAt least you can rest most of the day!â
âWow Max!â
âMy lack of sleep is starting to effect my performance and I canât let that happen, my career is important and you wriggling around most of the night is really starting to impact that!â Max yelled back, stopping as soon as he realised what he had said. Your eyes fell to the floor as you took a moment to process what he had said, sticking the blame on you as if you wanted to sleep restlessly and enjoyed not being able to let your husband rest at night. âBabe, I-â
âDonât even try and apologise, I canât believe youâre making me feel guilty for growing our child, Iâm sorry itâs all just such an inconvenience.â
âI didnât mean it like that, you know I donât feel that way,â Max tried to argue, but your mind was already made up, his true feelings really were now known.
âYou go to bed Max, Iâll give you the space that your precious career needs,â you told him, pushing him in the direction of your bedroom. He let his feet go, knowing arguing with you was pointless, hoping youâd follow behind him.
âI donât know what I was thinking when I said what I said earlier love.â
Maxâs hand slowly reached out and hovered over the top of your bump, smiling to himself as he admired just how big your baby was getting.
âMy career is important, but you and the baby mean so much more to me. I was insensitive and rude, my priorities werenât straight. I know itâs hard for you, and I really do completely understand how difficult being pregnant is,â Max whispered.
Your hand slowly moved across your bump, resting your fingers just over the top of Maxâs.
âNo one wants for me to sleep peacefully more than me,â you informed him.
âI know,â he smiled, shuffling closer towards you. âIâm so proud of you, youâre coping so well, and Iâm sorry if I ever made you feel anything different.â
âYouâre an idiot sometimes, you know?â
âI do,â Max chuckled as he saw the first hint of a smile on your face. âIâm stupid, selfish and a massive ass sometimes, but that doesnât stop me being so in love with you and our baby. You have no idea how excited I am for our future together babe.â
You hummed in agreement with Max, âI do, Iâve heard all those interviews you did in Miami last weekend.â
âSeeing as youâre talking to me again, is there a chance you might come and join me in bed again too? Itâs horrible being in there without you,â Max smirked, extending his hand out for you to take.
âYouâre lucky youâre cute,â you teased, taking Maxâs hand and allowing his other arm to wrap around you and help you off of the sofa.
âCan I get that in writing too?â Max grinned as you started walking.
Your head shook as he supported you all the way back to the bedroom, easing you down and placing the duvet gently over your body.
âMax, reckon you could sleep if I laid in your side?â You whispered, surprised by just how cold your spot was after you left it abandoned for so long.
âOf course,â he replied without even having to think, lifting his arm up and inviting you into the warmth beside him.
âIs this alright for you?â
âI promise, itâs more than alright for me.â
Whether he slept well for the rest of the night or not, it didnât matter to Max, just as long as he had you back by his side.
And if his data was rubbish, well, his coaches would just have to deal with it.
ËËË đđđđđđđđđđ ! ´ËË
#f1#f1 imagine#formula 1#max verstappen#max verstappen imagine#formula 1 x reader#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 reaction#f1 fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 x you#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#f1 fic#formula one imagine#formula 1 fic#formula one
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
đĽ Take My Whiskey Neat đĽ
Yandere Boothill x Reader
Again and again, you find a way to escape, and every time ends with you peering down the barrel of a gun.
Warnings: Yandere behaviors, forced relationship and captivity, implied kidnapping, some suggestive content but mostly sfw. Mild spoilers for his background story; I want to write him both as a super attentive and protective guy but also crazy for you???
Youâve become all too familiar with the sensation of a gun being pointed to your forehead.
âAw, darlinâ, why the long face? Took me two whole days to find ya this round! You should be proudâa yerself. I dare say our time together has taught you well,â he concludes with a wink.
Somehow, his praise feels more like a taunt.
Thatâs because it is. Obviously you never had a chance at escaping from him, a Galaxy Ranger with a bounty on his head worth more than your life a hundred times over. He was born and raised to hunt, to track, to kill. Youâre just the unlucky target.
He leans the gun ever so slightly closer to you, mere inches before it can graze your skin, and waits for your response. Although you know he wonât pull the trigger, the sight of the 9 millimeter colt aimed directly between your eyes still sends goose flesh skittering down your arms.
You grit your teeth and pin him with a withering glare. The last thing youâll relinquish is your prideâyouâre not intimidated by him, and it is impressive that you evaded him for so long, relatively speaking. Your other escape attempts lasted mere hours.
Unfortunately, the fact that the Ranger has always traveled alone doesnât help your chancesâespecially when lately, his only occupation has been you.
âWhat, no clap back today? No, âfudge you, ya son of a nice ladyâ or âfork you, shirtbagginâ bootlickerâ? Iâve gotten so used to yer colorful language that Iâm almost disappointed!â Boothill tilts the gun and juts his hips, his bullseye gaze locked on your own.
Ignoring the subtle look of longing, of hurt, within their depths is getting harder and harder. Heâs superb at hiding it behind jokes and attempted curses, but you know that look. Heâs clinging to you after all thatâs been taken from him, seeking love after it was destroyed in flames. If only he still held onto his human emotions and didnât rely on that neuro chip of his; then heâd know that what heâs showing you isnât love, but obsession.
You wish you had never extended your kindness to him that fateful day, when heâd burst into your home, sparks flying and wires exposed. One of his arms was barely attached, completely torn through with bullet holes. A shootout, heâd said, and heâd caught wind of a handy âmachine doctorââa mechanic, youâd corrected himâin town who could fix him right up.
It had taken a full two weeks for you to get him back up and running functionally. Two weeks of evading IPC grunts knocking on your door in search of him, two weeks of tolerating (and fine, maybe even enjoying) his crude jokes, and two weeks of stories over a glass of whiskey, about your hope to one day travel among the stars and his of finding a companion to do so with.
Thatâs when heâd seemed the most human. Voice tinged with sorrow, yes, but lips curved into a morose smile, eyes looking up at the stars. Reminiscing about when he was still fully human, nothing but a cowboy on a seemingly insignificant planet, surrounded by his adopted parents and siblings, and even that little girl whom he never got to see grow up.
After heâd shared his story, youâd felt the sudden urge to be close to him. Without thinking, youâd brought your hand up to his cheek, wiping an invisible tear despite the fact that he lost his tear ducts long ago.
Heâd sucked in a breath and gone deadly still; thinking you misjudged the situation and overstepped a boundary, youâd quickly started to jerk your hand back, only for him to lock it firmly against his face with his metal palm.
His voice, normally loud and clear through the synthesized distortion, had been quiet, low, wavering. âIâplease, donât stop. That feelsâŚnice.â
You were sad to see him go after those two weeks. You honestly expected to never see him againâhe was a Galaxy Ranger, after all, the definition of a lone wolfâbut to your surprise, his visits didnât end there. He kept returning again and again, and not just for repairs. Sometimes heâd bring you gifts or tell you stories of his hunt, and youâd cherish those moments when the galaxy felt just a bit less lonely with him.
Then the visits started to increase in their frequencyâand intensity. Heâd show up while you were working with a client and brazenly threaten them to leave so he could occupy your time instead, or heâd appear on your doorstep in the middle of the night with your favorite bottle of liquor, winking at the sight of your embarrassed form, still in your nightclothes. Your world suddenly seemed to revolve around the gunslinging cyborg.
Youâd had to put your foot downâas much as you did enjoy his company, you wouldnât allow him to interfere with your career. Youâd worked hard to gain your skills, and even though you were barely scraping by and living in a tiny, modest home by yourself, you were still proud of what youâd achieved on your own.
His initial reaction was an uncharacteristic and frightening bout of silence, his pupils blown wide, locked onto yours. Just as quickly, his typical smirk returned as he laughed it off. âJust watch out, lil cutie, âcause I know youâll be missinâ me soon.â
Apparently, soon was imminent, immediate. You were pouring yourself a drink after a long week of work when he finally kicked down your door and announced youâd be coming with him.
âIâve been waiting a long while now to claim you, darlinâ.â
âAnd if I refuse?â
That was the first time you witnessed his gun trained on you.
Now, Boothill drags you along everywhere, hopping from one planet or system to the next, living together as nomads. What you believed to be a serendipitous friendship, he thought was the start of your romance and life together.
It would be thrilling in any other circumstance, treading the path of The Hunt, evading the law, tracking down the IPC members who destroyed his familyâŚexcept the cyborg transferred that need to protect, to save someone, onto you. You have no choice but to be his now, and heâll be damned if he ever lets you go.
âYou just want to hear me curse because you canât,â you growl. What a stupid argument to be having with a pistol to your head. Yet you canât help but siphon all of your anger into this dumb little game of cat and mouse, of shark and minnow, of hunter and bird.
He forgets youâre not the only one armed.
You flash him the most vulgar gesture you can make. âGo fuck yourself, Boothill.â
The cowboy throws his head back in a laugh. âHaha! There she is. Wild as a newborn colt.â He grins, flashing those shark teeth youâd groan to loathe. Youâve lost count of the number of puncture marks and scars theyâve littered across your flesh.
Thatâs something he canât seem to get enough ofâthe feel of your warm, organic, human skin against his cold, steel shell.
âLan shoot me with an arrow, do you ever shut the fuck up?â you grumble, looking up as if the Aeon will give you an answer.
âThink ya already know the answer to that,â he replies, lowering his weapon to sling his opposite arm around your shoulders. The gun hangs languidly from his other hand, as if heâs not the deadliest shot in the galaxy.
His breath brushes your neck as he leans in and nips at your ear. âNow, how âbout we take this back home, eh cutie? Two days without you has got me prettyâŚâ His voice drops an octave. ââŚpent up, if ya know what I mean.â
The tooth marks along your skin flare. Oh, you know all too well.
~*~
Trying to find the solution to your imprisonment at the bottom of a bottle seems like a really clever idea, at least until the room starts spinning.
The empty glass cracks against the wooden table again as brown liquor burns down your throat. What did he call it? Rocket fuel? Damn right, and youâd lost count of the number of shots youâd taken.
Boothillâs normal smirk is contorted into a small frown. âDarlinâ, I know itâs been a long coupleâa days away for you, but I think we should retire the whiskey for the time beingââ
âShyut up!â you slur, jabbing a finger at the Ranger, your neck still throbbing from all the love bites and hickeys heâd given you. âThiz is your fault.â
He reaches for the bottle, but you snatch it away and instead start to take pulls directly from it. A deep sigh reverberates behind you as you stand and begin to spin around, hands extended. âArenât we celebrating you catching me again? You got what you wanted, youâŚyou mudderâŚfuuuuâŚâ You sway and just barely catch yourself before you tumbleâwait, no, thatâs him steadying your shoulders.
â(Y/n).â You blink out of your haze momentarily; only on rare occasions does he use your name and not things like darling or cutie. His face is controlled, mouth tilted downward. âPut the bottle down. I know the feelinâ of wanting to drown in liquor, but it ainât right.â
âIâm only like this because you took me from my life!â
He bares his teeth, and you know you hit a nerve. âThat little shack you called a home? Was that really livinâ? All those nights we talked, you said how you wanted grand adventure and risk! To travel and see the stars! To be with me!â
âI didnât ask for you to put me in a moving cage,â you spit back, trying to shake out of his iron-clad grip. âBut you never asked what I wanted, did you?â
âWhyâs this all so hard for you to accept?â One hand moves to grab your chin, tilting your face towards his tall form. âIt could be just us, ridinâ through the galaxy for all time.â His lips brush lightly against your own, and you feel a tinge of warmth run down your spine. âJust be mine.â
In your drunken stupor, your anger morphs into something else, something more carnal. He wants to be the predator? Well, even the hunted fight back sometimes.
The bottle drops from your hand, shattering against the floor, as you hook an arm around his neck and kiss him fervently, your tongue running along the edges of his pointed canines.
Before he can kiss you back, you pull away, wiping the back of your mouth with your forearm. âThatâs what could have been if you hadnât kidnapped me. If youâd asked me first.â Skipping over the remnants of the whiskey bottle, you flip him the finger over your shoulder as you walk away. âToo bad thatâs all youâll get. Fork you, Boothill.â
As soon as you leave the room, Boothill raises a metal digit to his lips, savoring the sensation of your warm mouth against his. So thatâs what your willing kiss feels like. The true passion he knows is hidden deep in your soul, buried beneath the dirt like an unmarked grave. He releases a breathy laugh.
Well fork him sideways, but he wants more.
Taking his hat off, he sets it on the table and moves to pour himself a glass of sherry. Heâs nearly positive heâll find you passed out in bed if he goes to you now, and knows he shouldnât, canât be in the same room with you when his self control is so near to breaking. Better to let you sleep it off and tease you about the kiss in the morning.
Boothill kicks his feet up and takes a long sip. So, it turns out your drunken self may actually be harboring some attraction for him. Yeah, he can use that.
âIâll have you someday,â he whispers, a promise to both you and himself. âWhiskey ainât the only thing thatâll be on your lips, darlinâ.â
#yandere boothill#yandere hsr#yandere honkai star rail#yandere x y/n#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere escape#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#yanderecore#yandere male#yandere#yancore#honkai star rail#hsr#Boothill
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
leave it to her.
troublemaker!jinx x people pleaser!reader
summary: for once, you were taken care of.
notes: nsfw, modern au, wc 2,7k. no proofread. Heh, this is for my bottoms out there !! might change the title lmao..
ུ۪۪ཝ ŕźŕżŕźâ âş
never, in a million years, you wouldâve thought that youâd see jinx crying. definitely not in such a⌠helpless way.
you were on your way to have lunch at the greenery of the campus, if you were lucky youâd find a nice spot under a tree, but the soft grass under the sun would suffice too. you had a red, juicy apple in hand, a novel in the other and your pretty purse on your shoulder. you were planning to do the best you could with that free period.
that is, until you casually find the blue haired girl crying under the bleachers.
it was out of character, way too far.
youâve known jinx since⌠forever. though you doubted she ever noticed you, she definitely caught your eye from a very young age.
you didnât know much about her home life, apart from rumors and gossip full of inconsistencies, her life history was a mystery. but you just knew something happened around the age of thirteen, because thatâs when her personality had a huge change.
from the cheerful, creative, social butterfly powder to the obnoxious, short tempered, problematic jinx. it wasnât from a day to the other, of course not, but you vividly remember when she mutated skins.
it started by her getting weirdly quiet. it was just strange for you not to hear her loud giggles and excited volunteers to participate in class. sometimes, she would even skip them. then you noticed that she pulled away from everyone. her former friends were mindlessly brushed off as she preferred to sit quietly alone.
she started getting in troubles. kids would accuse her from stealing stuff, such as pencils or lunch money. it got messy real quick, after all, they couldnât ignore it when it was at least six to seven kids assuring it was her who committed the crimes. parents got involved, but apparently her father handled it very well because soon enough nobody cared anymore.
growing up jinx developed a punk, dark style that got you obsessed for awhile. and she played the part, discussing with the teachers and challenging the authorities, she really seemed to hate the system. and her classmates.
now, maybe, just maybe, you had a crush on her. and you couldâve do something about it, if it wasnât because she scared the shit out of you.
jinx was a walking trouble. wherever she went, whenever it was, with whoever she wanted. her patience was extremely low and it was obvious she found joy in making others miserable. younger kids were more likely to be her victims, but some classmates were unlucky enough to get involved too.
she never messed with you. and your most logical explanation was that she simply didnât care about your existence. and why would she? you two were⌠polar opposites.
while jinx was pure chaos, you were an angel.
everyoneâs favorite, specially teachers. not that you were exactly a nerd, but that didnât matter. so what if you werenât academically smart? you were adorable, enthusiastic and kind. even the most strict and harsh teacher would feel happy to see your hand raising in their class and answer to your dumb questions. in fact, theyâll use you as an example to encourage others to satisfy their curiosity by learning.
socially, you were a bit awkward, but you always meant well! there isnât a club you havenât been a member of, or a student council activity you havenât volunteered for. you gave free tutoring, shared your lunch to those who didnât bring enough money, helped carry books or homework models from one side of the school to the other.
in conclusion, you were a sweetheart.
this comes from an early age. when your parents proudly bragged to their friends about how âquietâ and such a âwell behavedâ kid you were. sure youâve got yourself in a few little incidents. like stealing a chocolate from the store when you accompanied your mom do groceries. bringing stray animals to your house because you were worried theyâd have to sleep alone and making your parents deal with them. or getting caught red handed magnetically reading your fatherâs porn magazine.
silly little accidents.
you were simply the kindest soul alive. of course you wouldnât ignore someone crying alone.
your shy steps alerted jinx quickly, her head snapped up and her bloodshot eyes stared at you with furrowed eyebrows.
âwhat do you want?â she aggressively asked you, there was a vulnerability in her tone that squeezed your heart.
âum, i have tissues.â
your hands trembled as you rummaged through your bag, rushing to kneel in front of her and hand them over. you needed to comfort her, but you also wanted this to end as soon as possible.
her already pouty lips formed a frown, hesitating for a long minute before snatching it from your hand to blow her nose. not another word came out from her, not even thank you.
it was awkward, to stare at her while she cleaned up her wet face. your eyes traveled down to the floor, clearing your throat. âitâs a nice day.â
jinx only scoffed. glancing at you for a brief second before focusing on the tissues. then, she threw it away and placed her chin on her forearms as she hugged her knees, going back to that gloomy energy.
you were unsure, because she didnât quite asked you to leave, but it seemed that her mind was elsewhere. what do you say now? you didnât want to pry, in fact, you didnât even want to know what was tormenting her.
then why did you stay?
you moved slowly, as if any sudden movement would make her notice your presence, you sat next to her, maintaining a respectful distance.
well, grass is grass. though neither the sun nor the wind hit your face like youâd want, it was a quiet, calming spot. so you opened your book and read.
it wasnât like jinx didnât notice you, or cared. there was something about your mere presence, it brought her a sense of peace. she kept crying, but she didnât sob anymore. jinx kinda wanted to scoop closer, to make you round your arms around her and rest her head on your chest. thatâs how welcoming your vibe was.
she didnât, obviously. you both just sat there in silence, the noise of your pages turning and her quiet sniffing, along with the distant laughter from the students, were the only sounds heard.
you could tell jinxâs mind was complex, that was clear like water. it was inviting, the complexity of her person. to be the one to figure her out would be a big accomplishment, but ending up harmless was not reassured. if only you could ask her why was she crying.
she wouldnât tell you, anyway. how could she explain the pain of her memories, the grief and difficulty in her relationship with her sister?
nightmares were easier to manage. one can wake up sweaty in the security of their home and theyâll be alone, with no eyes to judge your trauma. but the nightmares transformed into sudden flashbacks in the middle of a class, the heartbeat quickens at a scary pace and the breathing gets heavier. and jinx thought, only for a second, that she might die right there.
you didnât ask her, and she appreciated it. because your presence comforted her in a way no one, and nothing, could ever do.
jinx left first. she had spent the majority of the hour looking at the floor, occasionally grunting, muttering stuff you couldnât comprehend. but she stared at you for quite some time. she found herself relaxing at the sight of your fingers following the words you were reading, paying attention to the smallest details in your actions. like the little puffs of air and the way your chest rises, jinxâs own breathing started to match yours at some point.
it sent shivers down her spine when she realized. neither of you says a word when jinx suddenly gets up, shook the dirt on her jeans and walked away.
you thought it was over, how silly.
next day you were welcomed by stares and giggles, firstly you just thought everyone was being super friendly. until you got to your locker.
the word âdykeâ shined in a fluorescent pink, other small drawings filled the free space. it wasnât strange for students to decorate them, but this clearly wasnât your doing, and it was extremely striking compared to your quiet personality. that was jinxâs handwriting.
you chuckled to yourself in disbelief, naively tried to brush a hand to clean it with no success and you hear more laughing. you glance away from your locker, just then you notice people made a round to watch you, some even took evidence with pictures. your cheeks reddened intensely, and you tried laughing with them, to pay no mind to the aggression of it all and laugh it off.
you were boiling anger.
escaping the spotlight wasnât easy, but you make it to the furthest bathroom. you felt like screaming, your breathing was heavy and little tears tickled the corner of your eyes.
what did you do to deserve it? is that how the universe pays you for being nothing but kind to people? you knew half of the students that were laughing at you. you helped them pass their exams, paid for their lunch, listened to their problems when no one else would. and then they laughed at you.
and what was so funny? how did they even know you were into women? were you that obvious?
while you were processing that and much more in you mind, someone else entered the bathroom. your head snapped towards them, scoffing loudly when you realize.
âdyke?â your voice rumbling in the empty room made jinx giggle, she closed the door and swiftly locked it. there was a very different air coming from her, she looked joyful, lively and mean.
her little mocking smile pretended to look innocent as she battled her lashes at you.
âdyke.â she shrugged, approaching you slowly. you felt cornered, like a prey.
âwâwhy?â
âwâwhy not?â
you huffed in frustration, stepping back to try and keep some distance, but she wasnât having it. âdid i offend you? yesterday?â you asked, unable to hold back the little tears.
jinx doesnât answer, but her demeanor softens noticeably. she reached to brush her thumbs on you cheeks, she felt the warmth of your blush and her heart fluttered. she felt so giddy that it scared her, suddenly pulling back.
âwhat a dumb question.â she scoffed, messing with her hair as she turned to the mirror, fixing her appearance to her liking. you saw how she purposely smudged her eyeliner and you mentally agreed. it suited her. âwhen will you learn to mind your own business?â she added your name to the end of the question and it threw you off.
âhuh?â jinx looked at you with nonchalance, slightly amused at your confusion. âwhat do you mean?â
âyouâre always behind other people, offering a helping hand and what notâ it pisses me off.â her voice got progressively more annoyed. âyouâre only losing time, did anyone help you back out there?â
âwâwell, no, butââ
you couldnât think of anything. she was right, she also approached you again, and her closeness affected you quickly, snatching the words from your mouth.
âbâbâbut.â
you grunted, hiding your face in your hands as you leaned back on the wall. âstop it, stop.â
âiâm not doing anything!â she chuckled, comfortably placing herself next to you with her shoulder pressed to the cold surface to face you better. you couldnât see her, but there was little hearts in her eyes as she gazed you.
âwhatâs wrong with lesbians, anywayâŚ?â you used your last defense, muffling your words softly against your hands.
which you quickly pulled away when you felt cold fingers tickling the exposed skin of your waist. jinx held you with a delicacy that made your breathing twitch.
ânothing~â she purred, getting even closer as she hugged you from the side. âi love lesbians.â she chuckled again, but it didnât sound like she was making fun of you now. you were bewildered, but you didnât separate an inch. âi just couldnât think of anything else to mock you, heh.â
you knew it was wrong for many reasons, but in the very moment you thought that it was cute. she was cute.
âi⌠i didnât knew youâŚâ
âhmm?â she hummed with a smile, placing her lips close to your ear to murmur as soft as she could. âthat i was into you?â
she wasnât making things up. you were simply oblivious. why else were you practically the only one unaffected by jinxâs antics? until today, that is.
if youâd have payed attention, you wouldâve noticed the constant staring, the quiet steps behind you. you wouldâve understood why some ungrateful students came back at you after a tutoring session to offer you money for your time and effort, you never accepted it, but there was jinx threatening kids for you.
jinx fixation only snapped when you finally offered your attention to her. to have you kneeling in front of her with worried eyes, unsure of how to actually help her and not leaving when she wouldnât even spare you another glance after accepting the tissues. your kindness made her heart race and she wanted it all to herself.
the silence that filled the bathroom was comforting, though the tension could be cut with a knife. or a kiss, whichever happened first.
surprisingly, you made the first move. tilting your head close enough to brush your lips against hers. you felt her sigh into your mouth before reciprocating. the contact was firm, eager and gentle. couldâve been more romantic if you werenât in the schools bathroom, but neither of you minded.
she didnât lose time to press herself into you against the wall, her hands roamed your waist and shamelessly explored under your shirt. the kiss quickly heated up, just like your bodies.
your hands clutched her shoulders to keep her close, though you shy away for a second when her tongue licked your lower lip. âgodâŚâ you sighed, mesmerized by the feeling. jinx tried again and this time you welcomed her by opening your lips for her.
she treated you so good, her touch both gentle and hungry made your back arch into her. her tongue conquered your mouth with ease, exploring every inch until one of you pull away to breath.
it was intoxicating, thrilling. the voice in your mind warning you when her hand slipped under your pants got more and more distant. her slim fingers caressed you over your underwear and you reluctantly broke the kiss to whimper softly. it was unknown, exciting. your own hand gripped her forearm as you tried to quiet down.
jinx hummed in amusement, âfeels good, hm?â she pecked your lips before moving to your neck. it was only a matter of minutes before you pleaded for more. though your words came out slurred and nonsensical, you had to guide her hand under your panties to make the point.
âyâyeah, yeah,â you kept mumbling, praising the softness of her touch. jinxâs own knees trembled when she heard you moan loudly, her middle finger smoothly entering your pussy. she had to kiss you again to shut you up, but she was fucking you so nice.
you greedily asked for more, muffling against her lips. you wouldnât even be standing if you werenât holding yourself from her shoulders. she added another one, setting a soft pace, her curling fingers hitting your sweet spot over and over.
you felt the pressure in your lower belly, âah, jinxââ you tried to warn her, but she already had an idea. your walls squeezed her fingers harder, and your hips kept twitching towards her, searching for relief.
âi got ya, baby.â she reassured you, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear as you came in her hands.
jinx was a riddle no one bothered to figure out, not even you. it was a pleasant surprise to be the first to feel how sweet she can actually be. you craved more of her.
it was a weird pairing, people noted. you both mindlessly walked hand in hand the next week, jinxâs uncaring attitude gave you the boost of confidence you needed after being laughed at so recently. [jinx apologized profusely for it.] but it worked perfectly, having each otherâs back when something went wrong. there was a special, comforting connection between you two that couldnât be compared.
#jinx x reader#jinx#jinx arcane#lesbian#jinx x fem!reader#arcane#jinx smut#jinx x reader smut#jinx league of legends#jinx lol#jinx arcane smut#arcane jinx#wlw#jinx x y/n#jinx x you#jinx fanfic
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
success life story âĄ
heyy i'm here to share about my success story, the beginning is only before i started manifesting and about when i just started, all my success are on the very end of the blog, so feel free to skip directly at it if you're not interest by all the rambling !
have a good read â
michiko is so pretty, i've literally been told so many times i looked liker <3
the old story that i donât live in anymore
okay so before i didnât hate my life, at all, but i just found very dull and so poor of entertaining like it was just too fucking regular and repetitive.also a bit depressing. i thought of myself of such an unlucky girl before and i was like affirming all the fucking time that i was unlucky and guess what? everything really used to go the way i didnât want it to go every single damn time and iâd be like i knew it im so unlucky boo-hoo.
same for the money i would just go every single fucking day rambling to my friends how poor i was and how i wanted money so bad and the same story every single fucking for days, weeks, months.
i really wanted a new appartement and my own room cause i used to share same room as my sister and it really was getting on my nerves, i had no privacy and place for myself. the apartment was small, my mum always kept complaining about it and then she would argue about my dad about it but the reason why we couldnât move out despite trying for several months was cause my dad had whole lotta debts and my mom had a really low paying and hard job she was exhausted and, it was quiet hard to see them being this unhappy and they still tried their hardest to make us happy so i really wanted to get back at them.
about social life i had very few friends and barely went out, i'd say probably one time a month. and i really wanted to get that life of the party, and those big ass friends group and also i was crazy desperate about having black friends cause i am black and literally the only black out here without none of black friends and i felt pretty left out like wtf am i the only black girl with no black friends cause all of them (that's so dumb tho.. ) were friends and gets invited to the most fun hangouts and i was embarrassingly jealous of that and also complained a lot about itâŚand kept asking tf was wrong with me.
STRONGLY on this one : i wanted a relationship so bad and i kept hating and being sad to those couple on tiktokâs. one time i actually cried cuz i wanted a boysâs love so bad like i was craving it so bad. i was in such despair state before..cringy ahh â ď¸
i used to be rlly insecure about my looks too even tho at some moments i felt more confident, i kept comparing myself and waisting dozens of minutes enumerating my "flaws ". i knew about manifestation but not really about law of assumption , for me manifesting was really all about listening to subliminals, method and scripting. we all once knew that phase yeah? i used to manifest from time to time but then would just give up again,since i was not seeing results and so on. so useful wow.and then thereâs the others things like mediocre grades, poor family health, just constant tiredness and fatigue feeling,
tw : mention of being depressed,sh,ed, : felt empty like life had absolutely no meaning, suicidal thoughts, tried to end by over-consumption of medication, self-harm and bulimia, constant complaining and NEGATIVE ONLY mindset.
but now, NOW i tell you ever single thing iâve just listed changed completely like every single damn thing iâve just listed is no more, itâs out of the date, dead, buried and no longer existing !
it clicked
then at some point at my life i was just like. yk what? fuck i just wanna change it all. then i really like really got into it all over again and for good. no more 1 week i try then giving up cause i ainât seeing no ÂŤÂ results .
i watched hours and hours of ppl talking about loa (iâm not saying you should do this at all itâs just that i was very under-informed and wanted to know everything about loa)on youtube, shoutout to rita kaminski and hyler who really put me into it and informed me. then i started reading nevilleâs pdf books, and tumblr blogs, kinda overconsuming but i liked getting myself informed.
and then thatâs where everything started and that i got aware of all the power i actually hold. all the things i actually can do just cause of my mind. i wrote down all my wishes in present tense ,like every single aspect i wanted to change/have in my life. and i started fully living in the end like really got myself into and at first of course, wavering from time to time in the beginning. it was pretty easy for me since i was used to manifestation.but what i didnât do before is persist no matter what and thatâs what was really tricky for me in the beginning to persist no matter what and not just give up to bullshit 3D. but when i kept moving forward no matter the 3D and made it facts the only my 4D matters and everything has already happened, ALL and every single wish down to the last one flowed into my life. ONE by ONE every single hour of the day i would get my manifestations down to the last letter i wrote in my notes.every single thing
success storyy
in a matter of few weeks like really 3 week-ish like- 1 month max.
starting off LUCK iâm extremely lucky now every single time i play gambling activities i win. iâve won insane amounts at scratch cards i think iâve won in total more than 5â000$. JUST FROM SCRATCH CARDS.and before i started i NEVER EVER WON. now whenever i play thereâs not one time that iâll win absolutely nothing even just a small prize
won huge lottery prize (from 200 to 12k the biggest iâve won yet)
winning a gambling games, either online or dice rolling luck,bets, bingos etc.. its literally insane every one keep telling that i literally has got godâs blessing (iâm the god guysđĽ°)
financially freedom, my parents upgraded jobs and iâve got lots of incomes + the money my parents give meÂ
all the debts my dad had, he got rid of ALL of them and when i tell you mf had a lot of emâ ď¸
move out in a new huge ass condo which is a duplex (like really like i wrote it itâs actually scary how powerful we are..) IâVE FINALLY GOT MY OWN ROOM and weâre getting my desired furnitures and decorating the house iâm so grateful
friends and popularity i think biggest shock for me is really this. like my social life has gone from very paisible to completely fully booked and passioning life. like seriously iâve been to more parties, concerts, birthdays, and hangouts during the last 2 weeks holidays than in my entire life
got lot of new friends, healthy relationships and quality time passed on lots of fun activities and sm memories
black groups friend. WITH AN S.so thankful to myself to be this good a manifestation i litteraly got into a black friend group of girls and iâve never felt more at my place and understood this much. and these girls know the black group boys (when i tell you that 2y ago they were the person that i wanted to be close with so bad..also theyâre really hot and funny lol)so we hung out with them and i was literally so highlighted and became pretty much friends with all of them !!Â
my man. HELLO I LITERALLY MANIFESTED MY DREAM RELATIONSHIP? when i met him i didnât actually realize right on the spot that he was exactly how i wanted him to be and reading back to when i scripted out all the things i wanted at the beginning, everything matched. heâs literally physically and mentally the man of my dream LIKE REALLY. weâre no bf and gf YET cause itâs just a little soon but we see each others super often and we have the best relationship ever i swear itâs giving wattpad. the flirting is crazyyy.
dream bod.from head to toe my desired body. heavy on the lower body all for that azz and wide hips.ive got smooth and clear skin and smell good all the time!! litteraly flawless face + got my braces which suits so much and dimples
plenty of vacations (went to ibiza, usa and dubai )
lenient parents they use to be so strict before i swear its crazy they let me go so easily now, i can hangout without asking 3 days ,like they accept even if i've gotta go in the next hour or if wanna go on trip that's in another country. i can come back home so much later too
attractive & magnetic aura + being really charismatic (everyone i met keep telling me iâve got this thing that really makes them want me, get closer to me)
good grades without doing much
perfect self-concept - as i kept living 24/7 in the state of wish fulfilled, my self concept only got better making me really know what iâm worth and never wavering/ going back to the old story
whole ass pc set up
all of my desired skincare/makeups/shoes/clothes
and so much more...
outro
i hope y'all liked my blog and that it motivated some of you to NEVER GIVE UP cause y'all are reallyy some powerful mfs and y'all already got all of yours desires !!
Ë ŕźâĄ âď˝ĄË honey kisses, shayama
#manifesting#law of assumption#sucess story#loa success#loa blog#loassumption#neville goddard#self concept#nondualism#void state#state of the wish fullfilled
1K notes
¡
View notes
Note
Saw your most recent thought about writing Gambit, PLEASE DO ITTT!! He has been my favourite ever since i was young... After watching Deadpool & Wolverine, the one who played by Channing Tatum... OH GOD I need him more now đ¤đđĽ ((But please take your time to write tho!! Don't wanna rush or pressure you about it â¨ď¸
Part two here
âWhat if this is it. What if this is the ending we get because we were the unlucky ones and that this is where we were meant to be regardless of how hard we try.â You say one day and Remy stopped shuffling his cards.
âAnd what made you come to that bleak conclusion, mon cher.â He asks softly, having a feeling that you had been withholding this thought inside for a while, and it wasnât only until now did it feel like coming to light in the presence of someone you felt safest with, or at least he assumed you did with how often you tended to stick to his side. You had lost your friend Jubilee a while back to Alioth and ever since then youâve been stuck to Remy and admitting things to him in confidence that he beloved you wouldâve told JubileeâŚhad she stayed a little while longer.
You shrug. âMerely an educated guess. That and the copious amounts of times where weâve tried and failed to escape but Iâm pretty sure thatâs evident, considering that weâre.still.fucking.here.â
Remy sighs, gets up from the table and walks across the room and takes his place next to you, shoulder to shoulder and as your thighs briefly touch. âYou may think me stupid for thinking this mom cher, but it is the truth of my heart, and that truth is that Iâm glad weâre here.â He admits but starts laughing soon after upon looking at your confused face, finding it adorable.
âCare to elaborate on that?â You then said as you started at as though he had grown a second head. What did he mean by that? That he was happy he was trapped here? Had Remy finally gone mad, you werenât quite sure but decided that you would hear him out in hopes that there was a logical explanation after a confession like that after all.
âWith pleasure,â Remy began, âthe reason I say this because if I werenât here then I wouldâve never met you, built a friendship with you and so on, so while I share your want to leave this place.â He then leans in real close to you, so close to the point you could feel his breath fanning your face and his lips ghost over your own as your heart went nuts in your throat. âI canât help but thank it for brining us together, for I wouldnât have thought to experience a love quite like ours mon cher.â Remy concludes and you couldnât help but smile.
Remy has once told you that you did exist in his timeline, just with a minor detail in the fact that you werenât a mutant like him. You were friends, close friends, but one day you died protecting him, heâs never forgiven himself since and still hasnât. âBrave soul, courageous heart you had.â He had said while fighting back tears as you held him just as he began to weep over a you that wasnât you; Regarding whether or not you were together was a question that was never answered nor asked, for you didnât want to reopen old wounds Remy chose to close for a reason.
You had a Remy back home but he was with Rouge and you werenât even remotely as close as Remy and his variant of you were. You were barely even on speaking terms because of how little you interacted with one another. So needless to say your absence wasnât felt nor missed in the slightest, but you didnât have the energy nor the ability to care about that anymore.
You gently shove him in the chest. âCheesy bastard.â You muttered as Remy chuckled, pulling you into his arms as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, breathing you in as you melted into his warmth, feeling safe from all harm and most importantly; loved.
âDonât you know. All Remyâs to ever exist are romantics at heart mon cher?â He playfully said as he tightened his grip on you, planting one more kiss on your forehead, humming in content.
âNo. I only know one Remy whoâs a romantic at heart,â you told him as you lifted a hand to gently boop him on the nose, âyou and thatâs the only Remy I need to know, for you are the best Remy out of all of them. At least in my opinion.â You finished as you then kissed him on the cheek.
Remy smiles softly at you as he felt himself becoming more content with his fate if it meant sharing these moments with you for the rest of his life, you made life here bearable and he couldnât imagine going back to a life where all he had to remember was your name scrawled into a cold, unforgiving headstone. âAnd your opinion is the only opinion I ever want to have for the rest of my life.â He says as he held you tighter before smothering you in kisses, smiling widely as he heard you giggle and squeal for mercy, while back home you may not be anything to him, but here? You were everything to him and more.
#mcu x you#mcu x reader#mcu imagines#mcu imagine#marvel x you#marvel x reader#marvel imagine#marvel imagines#marvel x y/n#mcu x y/n#gambit x reader#gambit imagine#gambit imagines#remy lebeau imagines#remy lebeau imagine#remy lebeau x reader#Remy lebeau x you#deadpool and wolverine
478 notes
¡
View notes
Text
pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: best friend!satoru is everything to me, fluff, teeny tiny bit angsty, but only bc of pining (my favorite), here to add to my simp satoru agenda, heâs trying his best but reader is oblivious (same), pls notice him rheyaâs note: i cant stop thinking about best friend!satoru so iâm here to share this silly little blurb LMAO thatâs it enjoy !! part 2
if satoru had known that being your best friend would be this difficult, he would have turned away from you when you said hi to him on your first day at jujutsu high.
it's not that he doesn't care about you. no, quite the opposite actually. he's always cared about you more than he'd like to admit. he can remember the way he used track the eyes of fellow students trailing you when you walked by. he can remember the sting of his nails as they dug into his clenched palms, and how suguru would pat his shoulder sympathetically when he noticed. he was sixteen at the time.
back then it seemed like he would grow out of his teenage crush, after being dismissed as your good friend for so long. but no, just his luck that these stupid feelings would grow and grow until they were tangled up around his very soul. a vice-like grip.
and now almost seven years later, nothing has changed.
"and he told me that if i wanted to be more interesting i should learn to fence, like he does!" you rant, throwing your hands up as you pace the length of his kitchen. satoru leans against the counter, arms crossed as he watches you vent your anger over yet another failed first date.
"uh huh." he acknowledges, trying to stay focused as you continue your annoyed speech. his fingers flex against his biceps, a thinly veiled attempt at controlling his frustration. whether he's frustrated with you or the man you were with, he has no clue.
"then he asked me where i was from, and then said i didn't look like it!" you rage, face hot as you finally unload the frustration you've been carrying all evening.
satoru huffs in mild irritation, trying hard not to roll his eyes. but you hear it and turn to him, half ticked off and half curious. "what was that?"
he clicks his tongue.
"you do this all the time. you always pick guys who treat you like shit. i'm not even surprised anymore." he snaps, a bit more forceful than he intended to be.
there's a silence that follows, and satoruâs unlucky enough to catch the mildly surprised look on your face. he tongues his cheek, brows pinched as he watches your expression fall. an ugly feeling that reminds him suspiciously of guilt rolls around in his stomach.
"youâre rightâŚ" you sigh, shoulders slumping as you cross your arms with a defeated shake of your head. "it's just tiring, you know?"
he turns his back to you, reaching across the counter to start slicing up an apple, trying to keep his hands occupied because they're itching to touch you. but he can't keep the bitterness out of his tone when he answers with a clipped, "yeah i know."
he can practically feel your confused stare on his back. but then you chuckle in amusement, mirth clear in your tone. "what do you mean you know? you literally get attention from random people on the street. you can have anyone you want." you laugh.
"are you serious?" he asks, eyes wide with disbelief as he spins around to face you again. you only blink at him, expression so annoyingly clueless it makes him sigh. he turns away from you once again, going back to cutting the apple.
"what?" you cock your head, not understanding why he's so forlorn about it. "most people would jump at the chance to date you. everyone wants you, you know?"
"not everyone. not the one who matters." he mutters bitterly as he places the apple slices onto a plate. you said all of it so casually, like it's supposed to be obvious, but all satoru feels is an overwhelming wave of disappointment wash over him.
"youâŚnever mind." he relents, biting his tongue. "it's not important."
he hears your sharp intake of breath as you gasp, curiosity no doubt brimming in your barely concealed grin.
"ooh interesting! are you telling me you have a thing for someone, toru?" the teasing in your tone is palpable, and satoru feels his stomach flip pleasantly when you say his name. he turns around to face you, letting his shoulders drop as a helpless smile stretches across his face.
he walks up to you, pushing an apple slice past your lips and chuckling quietly. you're still giving him those curious little eyes as you chew, and he tries to swallow down the overwhelming wave of pure affection that threatens to burst from within. clearly today wasn't the day you were going to realize what kind of feelings he's been keeping a secret for so many years.
that's okay. he'll wait as long as you need him to.
he flicks your forehead gently, before reaching down to tug on your cheek. "don't worry your pretty little head about that, sweet thing. you'll figure it out soon enough."
#[đŞâ rheyaâs writings. đ]#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#gojo x reader#satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#gojo satoru headcanons#jujutsu kaisen angst#jujutsu kaisen fluff#gojo fluff#gojo angst#jjk#jjk fluff#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x you#jjk x you#gojo satoru x y/n#jjk fanfic#jjk season 2#gojou satoru x reader#jjk gojo#gojo drabbles#gojo imagine#gojo#jujutsu kaisen x you
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
A Fever You Canât Sweat Out
Part 1: Unexpected Faces in Familiar Places
fem!jason todd x fem!reader summary: jay makes a new friend, now if only she could be something more... tags: sexual harrassment, threats of violence, idiots in love, flirting, swearing, sexual tension, semi-public sex, cunnilingus, fingering rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 4.7k a/n: enjoy! i've been having a really shitty week (even before the election) so i scrapped my original intention to only post once it was fully written and decided to just share this with you all
Jay Todd has the shittiest day to cap off the shittiest week in what feels like forever. Her ribs ache from a hit on Monday thatâs still not fully right and she spent most of the day chasing down one of her accountants that had the sheer fucking nerve to try and steal from under her nose. Her knuckles are bloody, sheâs on the verge of a stress headache, and all she wants is to drink her goddamn drink in peace. Apparently thatâs too much to ask for because she gets a call from Cala down at one of her bars about out of towners harassing the guests and now that just wonât do at all.
Jay bursts into the bar, door hitting the wall with a crash, and oh fuck she forgot her helmet at home so sheâs gonna have to do this as Jay, without the weight of the Hoodâs legend behind her. Taking a deep breath she squares her shoulders and swaggers in. Zeroes in on the two chucklefucks have that cornered a poor girl sitting at the bar. Notes the way sheâs hunched over and pulling down the hem of her skirt to hide her skin from lecherous eyes. Cala buzzes around the scene trying to divert their attention away from poor little miss unlucky but it doesnât work.
ââm not alone,â Jay hears you say as she strides towards the bar. âIâm waiting on a friend.âÂ
âThat so,â the taller of the two men leer. âWell she can just join us too. Plenty of room for more.â The shorter man makes a crude gesture at his crotch and Jay sees red.
âThere you are!â She calls out, shoulders past the men without even acknowledging their presence. âSorry Iâm late, traffic was a real bitch. Did you already order our drinks yet?â You look up at Jay with gratitude and something suspiciously like tears shining in your eyes. Fuck. Youâre pretty.
âNo Iâ I didnât know if you were planning on driving so I just waited,â you play along.Â
Jay goes to take the seat next to you but shoulder slams into a body. She turns and raises a single disdainful eyebrow that she knows for a fact has made grown men cower before.
âYouâre in my seat,â she says, low and bored. The manâs face starts to go a horrible shade of red that clashes terribly with his hair.
âSo you think you can just butt into a private conversation, bitch?â He snarls, spittle flying.
Jay very conspicuously wipes the front of her leather jacket with a bar napkin. Looks him up and down and smirks.
âI think your conversation was over 30 seconds after you opened your mouth. I bet a lot of things are over in 30 seconds with you,â she tells him coolly.
He opens his mouth to respond, vein pulsing in his forehead but the cock of a shotgun stops him. Cala, blessed Cala, had finally had the distraction she needed to grab the shot gun from under the bar and she is using it to maximum effect.
âOut!â She thunders, waving the shotgun in the menâs faces. âOut and donât you ever come back. This is one of the Hoodâs bars, weâre under her protection and thereâs gonna be hell to pay for this.â
Enraged the larger one goes to yell back but the shorter one grabs at his shoulder. Whispers at him to look around at all the hostile faces, the other regulars getting to their feet and cracking their knuckles. Tails between their legs the two nuisances scamper out.
Jay nods at Cala and she calls out âNext roundâs on the house!â to the cheers of the room.
Job taken care of, Jay goes to leave when a hand around her wrist, just catching her under the hem of her jacket, freezes her in place.
âWait!â you call. She turns to look at you properly, the wobble of your lip and the shortness of your skirt from where youâre no longer tugging it down. âPlease? I justâ Iâm worried theyâll be waiting outside for me. I was supposed to meet a date here but they bailed on me and now I have to wait for the next bus to come. Would you stay with me for a bit? Please? Iâllâ Iâll buy you a drink for the inconvenience.â And well, Jay always was a sucker for a damsel in distress.
âSure,â she says, slinging herself lazily back into the bar chair. âItâs no inconvenience but Iâll take that drink. Whoever he is, heâs gotta be mad for standing a pretty girl like you up.â
âOh um,â you fluster at her words. âThanks?â
Cala sets down Jayâs usual order for when sheâs driving in front of her and refills your drink. Waves off your fumbling with your wallet with a âItâs on the house, chĂŠrie. Our apology for the bad night. Besides,â she nods at Jay âthe Boss Lady would not let you pay if you tried.â
You grow more flustered at that and Jay rolls her eyes at Calaâs interfering. She lays a hand on your bare forearm to get you to stop tearing the napkin in your hands to shreds.
âYouâre not in any trouble honey,â she says, voice low and soothing. âJust needed a little help, thatâs all. Now my nameâs Jay and I own this little establishment. Why donât you tell me a little something about yourself too?â
You stutter and start through your own self-introduction, mascara long eyelashes fluttering at all the attention. Jayâs just so goddamned tempted to press her thumb into the hollow underneath your eyes, see if thatâs enough to make the gathering tears of relief spill over. Wants to see your puffy bitten lips wrapped around her fingers rather than your straw. Getting you to talk about yourself seems to work though, familiar territory slowly evening you out. Youâre surprisingly witty when youâre not flustered, someone fun to have a conversation over beer with. Time just gets away from under you two, Jay too enthralled with the way your hands move as you tell a story, you too drunk under her attention to bother looking at the time.
A stray notification catches your attention, interrupts your story about how this bar wasnât even in your bottom five. You roll your eyes at the sender name.
âJerry,â you answer Jayâs inquisitive look. âApologizing for standing me up, for all the good thatâll do.â With a flourish you tap at your screen, smile and say âBlocked.â
Jay can feel the corners of her eyes crinkle up in return, simple joy and approval for you cutting the trash out of your life. Not that sheâs really entitled to an opinion on it. Your smile lasts a half second longer before suddenly descending into panicking, fumbling out your phone and chanting no no no under your breath.
âI missed the last bus,â you breathe out, eyes wide. Jayâs brain stutters at that, thereâs no way youâve been talking together for four hours. Cala catches her eye and jerks her head up at the big clock hanging over the bar. Fuck. It really has been four hours.
Jay knocks back the last of her beer and stands, extends a hand out to you to help you hop off the bar stool thatâs just the wrong side of too tall. Even in your heels Jayâs still got quite a few inches on you.
âCâmon,â she says. âItâs my fault you were out so late, Iâll give you a ride home.â
She leads you outside to where her bike is parked, your palm still in hers.
âI donât have an extra helmet so you just take mine okay?â She says, putting it on you.
âWeâreâ weâre going on that?â you squeak out, surprise rendering you docile.
âYep,â she answers, already straddling the bike, thighs flexing. âHop on and hold on tight.â
Jay more feels than hears your scream as she revs the engine and takes off, corners maybe just a little too fast to be anything other than showing off. Too soon she pulls up at your front door and already she mourns the feeling of your arms wrapped around her middle. She gives you a hand to help you off the bike again and nearly buckles at the brief glimpse of the black unlined lace panties she sees under your skirt as you swing your leg over the bike. The two of you stand there facing each other, moment stretching out until a car backfires a few blocks over.
âWell, I guess I should get going, â Jay tells you reluctantly.
âIâve got work in the morning,â you respond, still not moving. âWait! Dâyou want my number or something so we can do this again? Not the first bit obviously, but maybe drinks? Maybe coffee next time?â
And Jay, Jay doesnât really have a phone besides a collection of burners but for you sheâll keep one on her. âCould always use another friend,â she says slowly, hands her phone over to you anyway. Grinning, you see her off into the night, taillights dissolving into darkness.
Jay calls first, asks about coffee with too much casualness in her voice. Your ensuing enthusiasm sets to right the last of her worries that youâd only offered out of obligation and she sets about monopolizing as much of your free time as she can get away with. Takes you to the movies, to museums, to lunch. Lends you her sweater, her umbrella, her helmet. Actually thinks about buying a second one with how much use youâre getting out of hers. Bitches with you about assholes at work â not that she gives you the full story â and bemoaning the state of customer affairs. Makes you dinner at her apartment and makes a spot for herself on your couch. Worms her way into every corner of your life without regret because youâd tell her if her presence was unwanted. Right?
Leave it to Jay to come back from the dead and still fall in love with a straight girl. Dick teases her about how far sheâs willing to bend over backwards for âjust a friendâ and Jay has to show her teeth and snap back that at least she has some. Has to cover up for the fact that her sanity is hanging by a goddamn thread thinner than that single string that had tied the open sides of your top together that one afternoon, revealing bare skin and the hint of a breast if you leaned just right. The way she almost walked into a wall when she realized you werenât wearing a bra the first time she came over to your place. How sheâs come with the image of your tear-stained face, fingers buried in her cunt. Itâs fine! Jayâs fine. Eventually sheâll learn to stop lusting over her darling best friend who looks up at Jay with such sweet trusting eyes, unaware of what an awful lecher she is.
A gala invitation has Jay wishing she could shoot lasers with her eyes and incinerate it. Her eye twitches with annoyance and you snatch it up out of her hands before she can stop you.
âOh whatâs this, a party?â you ask, hair falling down the nape of your neck in a way that has Jay itching to brush it aside and kiss your spine.
âA stupid one,â she answers, not really paying attention.
âBut youâll have to get all dressed up for it! Please, please can I come over and watch you get ready? You never get dressed up,â you pout.
Even with your whining and pouting, Jay canât help but think sheâd still have a better time at the gala with you by her side to distract her from pointed glances and whispers. She sighs. Wait.
âThereâs a plus one on that invite,â she tells you nonchalantly, studying your face in her peripheral vision. âYou could come if you want, get all dressed up too.â
You stiffen at the question. âYou really mean it?â you whisper, hardly daring to breathe.
âCourse, but only if you want to,â she offers. You squeal, clutch the envelope to your chest and tackle her.
âItâs short so Iâll probably have to rent a dress and oooh I need to think about makeup, maybe a bold lip? Oh! And I can have another excuse to wear the Jimmy Choos...â you babble in her arms.
âYou hate the Jimmy Choos,â Jay reminds you. âAlways complain they pinch your feet.â
âDuh,â you tell her, pushing yourself up. âBut they make my legs look like sex so Iâm wearing them.â Jay has to swallow a couple of times at that, lost in the last time youâd worn them out clubbing and dragged her with you. Your legs had looked like sex, miles of long yummy skin only ending at your barely there mini dress. You prance around the room pulling down dishes for dinner and Jay sighs, melts back into the couch cushions as she listens to you chatter a mile a minute about how excited you are.
Jayâs really, really regretting her impulsivity by the time the gala rolls around a few days later. In all her excitement about not going alone for once, sheâd forgotten that this meant sheâd be going with you. With you, all dolled up and mouth-wateringly gorgeous.
You knock at her door earlier than sheâd expected from you when a fancy event is involved and has to do her very best not to drop her jaw on the floor. Gorgeous green silk pools around your breasts in a daring cowl neck, the fabric clinging to your curves, draped to exaggerate them. Skims the plush sides of your hips before falling straight to the floor, a daring slit revealing the warm bare skin of your leg ending in those heaven sent Jimmy Choos. Jay stares, knows she stares for a beat too long but there is quite literally no force on earth that could tear her away. You start to squirm under her attention, still standing half in her doorway.
âThat bad, is it?â You laugh self consciously, start to cover your cleavage with your hands. âI knew it was too much.â
âNo, no itâs just enough,â she rasps, standing back to let you in. You brush past her so close she can smell your perfume, can tell youâd broken out your special occasions scent in the nice glass bottle. âI just need to fix my tie and do my hair and then we can go.â
âDo you need the tie?â You hum, stepping into her space. Grabbing a hold of one of the loose ends, you tug it out from where itâs tucked under her collar and drape it over the couch. Your fingers come to her throat and slowly undo the buttons there until only a single button or two above her waistcoat remains done up. Satisfied with your work, you spread the material flat under your palms, right over the swell of Jayâs breasts. âI think you look really nice just like this,â you confess to her.
Jay can barely breathe as she says âFuck the tie, never liked âem anyway.â Your slow smile is worth it.
âCan I do your hair too?â You ask shyly.
âDonât see why not, I was just going to do a ponytail,â Jay shrugs. Delighted you push her down onto the couch and start pulling bobby pins out of your purse. âWait did you plan this?â She asks.
âA girl should always be prepared for the best outcome,â you tell her primly as you stand behind her and finger comb her riotous hair.
Quickly you separate out a deep side part and Jay memorizes the feeling of your hands in her hair. Hands twisting and pinning, youâre done in only a few minutes, handing her the little mirror out of your clutch to admire your work. Softly Jay touches your work, the way youâve slicked back one side of her hair and made the waving curly mess look artistic and purposeful.
âThank you,â she says, making eye contact with you in the mirror. She means it, means it for more than just fixing her hair but for everything else youâve done since stumbling into her bar and her life all those months ago.
âItâs nothing,â you tell her, hands suddenly occupied with the mechanism of your purse. âWe should probably get going, right?â
Jay drives the two of you to the venue in a really nice car youâve never seen before. She waves away your questions with a tight, âMy dad wonât even notice itâs missing.â She parks at the end of the red carpet and the doors havenât even opened yet but you can already see the camera lights flashing. You look at her, suddenly nervous because youâd vastly underestimated how important this event was. She turns to you and smiles, grips your hand over the car console.
âHey,â she says, all softness. âJust stick with me and youâll be fine. Iâll head off the vultures, you just hold onto me and enjoy the canapes, okay?â
You nod, and then suddenly sheâs opening up your door, hand extended to help you out. The lights are blinding, flashing so fast the afterburn never gets any time to dissipate. Pasting on a smile you cling to Jayâs strong arm, rock solid even under all her suit layers. Paps shout and scream at you to look their way and you can barely hear them over one another.
Eventually the two of you make it through the front doors of the hotel and you gasp like youâve been drowning. Rubbing your shoulders Jay moves to cover you, cuts off the private moment from prying eyes that seek and skitter.
âIs it always like that?â You gasp. Fighting to regain your balance.
âUnfortunately,â she says with a rueful smile. âBut thatâs the worst of it over, now we can really enjoy the night.â Gallantly she offers you her arm and you accept it gratefully, her elbow brushing up against the swell of your breast as you walk.
She introduces you to the nightâs hosts â her family â with a whispered apology in your ear. Jay is secretly, privately glad that you donât notice Dickâs eyes lighting up with interest in you as you come in to view. Sheâs very careful to stamp that light out with a scowl and pantomiming slitting his throat. Heâs all charm and smiles when heâs introduced to you though Jay still stomps on his toes for good measure. She doesnât know what possesses her to, but she wraps a proprietary arm around the small of your back as she steers you around the room. Helps you to crystal flutes of champagne that make your nose twitch at the carbonation and warns you off the most disgusting canapes.
Jay has just chased down the waiter carrying the mushroom and cheese quiche bites youâd fast declared your favourite when the two of you get roped into a very stilted conversation with some of the fat cats the Waynes are currently trying to drain dry, for charitable reasons of course. Sheâs tuned out the conversation while she piles all the best looking bites onto a plate for you, horrifically uninterested in whatever Mr. Harold J. Carson, esquire had to say about the Texan economy. She cottons on to something being wrong as your hands tense up around her arm and your laugh gets ever more brittle.
âThatâs a very kind offer Mr. Carsonââ
âHarold, please,â the great mustached walrus harumphs.
ââMr. Carson,â you bravely soldier on. âBut Iâm here on a date and I hope youâre not implying that Iâm the type of woman to two-time someone.â
He turns an ugly shade of puce and sputters at the implication, society matrons chuckling behind their glasses at his terrible blunder. Sensing an opportunity, Jay grabs you by the arm and starts leading you away.
âI do think our presence is needed by my family elsewhere,â she says, vowels Diamond District clipped. Her grip around your fingers is strong, tighter than itâs ever been as she leads you down a hallway and into an unused meeting room. Her breaths are coming heavy as she drops your arm like sheâs been burned, deposits the plate on the empty table. Jay knows if she speaks now, her voice will shake and she will not have that. FUCK. Fuck, she was supposed to have this under control by now. Sheâs not your keeper, sheâs not gonna stand between you and happiness but fuck it hurts to be used like a ticket into someone elseâs bed.
âJay,â you ask cautiously. âAre you okay? I really wasnât going to take him up on his offer, Iâm telling the truth, promise.â
âWhyâd you come with me as a friend when you were already invited as someoneâs fucking date?â Jay spits out, unable to contain her jealous anger and pacing to try and burn it off.
âBut you invited me,â you answer her, voice trailing off in confusion.
âYou just told Mr. Texas Oil Man that youâre here on a date,â Jay says, voice tight and frustrated at having to spell this out for you. âAnd weââ she gestures sharply at the two of you ââare not on a date.â
Your face falls, voice thin and hurt. âWeâre not?â you ask softly.
Jay has to stop pacing because wait what.
âYouâ you thought this was a date,â she says slowly. âYou got all dressed up and wore the heels you hate because you wanted to look good. For me.â You hug yourself tightly and nod, gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. âBut you donât even like women?â And itâs less a painful fact she knows now and more of a question.Â
âWe met because my date stood me up!â you exclaim.
âYeah, Jerry,â Jay says, not sure where this is going. âFuck that guy.â
âGerry short for Geraldine!â you practically howl. âIâve been practically throwing myself at you ever since, I thought you were just being nice and not saying anything to hurt my feelings,â you yell at her. âI thoughtâ I thought you were finally giving me a chance tonight.â You pant, chest heaving as you reveal this more vulnerable truth.
âOh,â she says stupidly, suddenly forced to re-contextualize her entire life for the past few months. You dash an angry hand at your tear eyes and turn to go.
âIt was my mistake,â you tell her voice thick with emotion.
And fuck. Jayâs not about to let the best thing that ever walked into her life just walk right back out. Not without a fight. Eating up the distance with her longer legs, she reaches out and gently clasps your wrist. Turns you around and pins you the door by it, forces you to look up at her with wide teary eyes.
âOh sweetheart,â she croons and you shudder. âBet youâve been feeling like Iâve been treating your real raw lately.â She cups your face in her hand, smoothes her thumb over the high plain of your cheekbone. âWhy donât you tell me what you were hopinâ for with your one big chance, tell me how tonight was supposed to go.â Jay nuzzles the side of your cheek, inhales the sweat and desperation rolling off your skin.
âWe wereâ we were supposed to dance,â you confess, head falling back against the door.Â
âWe can still do that,â she says, curling her fingers into your hair and pulling. She grins at your swift inhale.
âWe were gonna dance anâ then, then you were gonna take me home.â You breathe out, pupils blown wide with hunger.
âWas that it baby girl?â She asks. âPlaying it a little safe for your one night fantasy, werenât you?â Jay lets go of your wrist to rest her hand on your shoulder, large hand pressing down on your collarbone.
âWas gonna kiss you goodnight,â you whimper, shivers running across your skin. Slowly, so slowly you can make out the ticking seconds hand of the big clock on the wall, Jay leans in and carefully slots her mouth down over yours. Sucks gently on your bottom lip before releasing it with a sigh.
âLike that?â Jay asks. âYou were just hoping for a sweet little kiss on the mouth?â Her own breathing is ragged.
âNoâo,â you gasp. âWas hopingâ was hoping youâd kiss a little lower too.â
Swiftly Jay drops to her knees, so fast she barely recognizes the pain of it. Hooks your leg over her shoulder and starts rucking up your devastating dress to expose your panties. Moaning you scrabble at the door, her hair, anything to keep you upright and balanced.Â
âThese,â she snarls, then licks a fat stripe across the thin fabric of your black lace panties. âIâve been dreaming of getting my hands on them since I first saw them.â You shiver, bury your hands into her thick hair for balance.
âTheyâre myâ my lucky date underwear,â you gasp into the air.Â
âAnd you were hoping to get lucky tonight, werenât you baby girl?â She coos up at you.
Biting your lip, you nod. Jay sets about tearing your underwear to pieces with her teeth. Your thighs tremble around her ears and she slams your hips back down against the door. Spreads your lips open with calloused fingers, presses a light kiss to your clit in greeting before she starts making out with your pussy. You howl and sag, trusting her to take the full weight of you as your knees turn to jelly.
Jay eats you out with enthusiasm and she eats you out with experience. Does this thing with the slick thrusting muscle of her tongue that has you gasping and begging for more. Can feel the heel of your shoe digging into her back, urging her own, begging her to fuck you harder. Spells her own name against your clit, brands her claim on you into your flesh as you wobble and whimper. Slick runs down her face as she grinds her nose into you.
Sucks your clit, hard, just a hint of teeth as she spears you open on a thick finger. Twists and curls it against your slick wet walls, lets herself affectionately get acquainted with your cunt. Scissors you open with two fingers just to watch your head bang back against the door, eyes shut and tears streaming down your face. Sets an uneven rhythm with her fingers and tongue that has you moaning and trying to ride her face for more. Finger fucks you with wet, squelching vigour as you quiver and shake, walls tightening up as you careen towards climax. Starts putting pressure on your rim with a third finger just to tip you over the edge of it all, pleasure making you stupid. Jay bites down at the sensitive inner skin of your thigh and suddenly has to drink down the slick of your second orgasm. So her baby girl likes a little pain with her pleasure, sheâll have to remember that for next time.
Gently, she takes your trembling thigh off her shoulder and places it back onto the ground. Pulls your skirt back down to hide the utter wreckage sheâs made of your panties. Jay scrubs at her chin with her hand, then licks down all the sweet remaining slick she finds there. Grins felinely as you moan at the sight.
âHoping for a little something like that, honey?â She teases.
Vigorously you nod, head bouncing back and forth like a bobblehead, words still fucked out of your brain. She holds out a hand to you â not the one thatâs just been buried knuckle deep inside you â and clasps your hand in her own.
âCâmon, letâs go home then,â she tells you airily, leading you back through the maze of the building.
âBut what about the party?â you ask, mascara still smeared around your eyes.
âI donât care,â Jay bites out. âIâm taking you home and Iâm fucking you until either I pass out or the sun comes up.â
âOkay,â you say, voice just verging on a whine. âThat sounds better, actually.â
âGood,â Jay smirks. âBecause it wasnât a question.â
series masterlist | part 2
#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#fem!jason todd#fem!jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd smut#red hood x reader#red hood x you#jason todd x y/n#sunnie writes đť#a fever you can't sweat out series
260 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Too big to care
I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in BOSTON with Randall "XKCD" Munroe (Apr 11), then PROVIDENCE (Apr 12), and beyond!
Remember the first time you used Google search? It was like magic. After years of progressively worsening search quality from Altavista and Yahoo, Google was literally stunning, a gateway to the very best things on the internet.
Today, Google has a 90% search market-share. They got it the hard way: they cheated. Google spends tens of billions of dollars on payola in order to ensure that they are the default search engine behind every search box you encounter on every device, every service and every website:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/03/not-feeling-lucky/#fundamental-laws-of-economics
Not coincidentally, Google's search is getting progressively, monotonically worse. It is a cesspool of botshit, spam, scams, and nonsense. Important resources that I never bothered to bookmark because I could find them with a quick Google search no longer show up in the first ten screens of results:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task
Even after all that payola, Google is still absurdly profitable. They have so much money, they were able to do a $80 billion stock buyback. Just a few months later, Google fired 12,000 skilled technical workers. Essentially, Google is saying that they don't need to spend money on quality, because we're all locked into using Google search. It's cheaper to buy the default search box everywhere in the world than it is to make a product that is so good that even if we tried another search engine, we'd still prefer Google.
This is enshittification. Google is shifting value away from end users (searchers) and business customers (advertisers, publishers and merchants) to itself:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/05/the-map-is-not-the-territory/#apor-locksmith
And here's the thing: there are search engines out there that are so good that if you just try them, you'll get that same feeling you got the first time you tried Google.
When I was in Tucson last month on my book-tour for my new novel The Bezzle, I crashed with my pals Patrick and Teresa Nielsen Hayden. I've know them since I was a teenager (Patrick is my editor).
We were sitting in his living room on our laptops â just like old times! â and Patrick asked me if I'd tried Kagi, a new search-engine.
Teresa chimed in, extolling the advanced search features, the "lenses" that surfaced specific kinds of resources on the web.
I hadn't even heard of Kagi, but the Nielsen Haydens are among the most effective researchers I know â both in their professional editorial lives and in their many obsessive hobbies. If it was good enough for themâŚ
I tried it. It was magic.
No, seriously. All those things Google couldn't find anymore? Top of the search pile. Queries that generated pages of spam in Google results? Fucking pristine on Kagi â the right answers, over and over again.
That was before I started playing with Kagi's lenses and other bells and whistles, which elevated the search experience from "magic" to sorcerous.
The catch is that Kagi costs money â after 100 queries, they want you to cough up $10/month ($14 for a couple or $20 for a family with up to six accounts, and some kid-specific features):
https://kagi.com/settings?p=billing_plan&plan=family
I immediately bought a family plan. I've been using it for a month. I've basically stopped using Google search altogether.
Kagi just let me get a lot more done, and I assumed that they were some kind of wildly capitalized startup that was running their own crawl and and their own data-centers. But this morning, I read Jason Koebler's 404 Media report on his own experiences using it:
https://www.404media.co/friendship-ended-with-google-now-kagi-is-my-best-friend/
Koebler's piece contained a key detail that I'd somehow missed:
When you search on Kagi, the service makes a series of âanonymized API calls to traditional search indexes like Google, Yandex, Mojeek, and Brave,â as well as a handful of other specialized search engines, Wikimedia Commons, Flickr, etc. Kagi then combines this with its own web index and news index (for news searches) to build the results pages that you see. So, essentially, you are getting some mix of Google search results combined with results from other indexes.
In other words: Kagi is a heavily customized, anonymized front-end to Google.
The implications of this are stunning. It means that Google's enshittified search-results are a choice. Those ad-strewn, sub-Altavista, spam-drowned search pages are a feature, not a bug. Google prefers those results to Kagi, because Google makes more money out of shit than they would out of delivering a good product:
https://www.theverge.com/2024/4/2/24117976/best-printer-2024-home-use-office-use-labels-school-homework
No wonder Google spends a whole-ass Twitter every year to make sure you never try a rival search engine. Bottom line: they ran the numbers and figured out their most profitable course of action is to enshittify their flagship product and bribe their "competitors" like Apple and Samsung so that you never try another search engine and have another one of those magic moments that sent all those Jeeves-askin' Yahooers to Google a quarter-century ago.
One of my favorite TV comedy bits is Lily Tomlin as Ernestine the AT&T operator; Tomlin would do these pitches for the Bell System and end every ad with "We don't care. We don't have to. We're the phone company":
https://snltranscripts.jt.org/76/76aphonecompany.phtml
Speaking of TV comedy: this week saw FTC chair Lina Khan appear on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. It was amazing:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oaDTiWaYfcM
The coverage of Khan's appearance has focused on Stewart's revelation that when he was doing a show on Apple TV, the company prohibited him from interviewing her (presumably because of her hostility to tech monopolies):
https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/apple-got-caught-censoring-its-own
But for me, the big moment came when Khan described tech monopolists as "too big to care."
What a phrase!
Since the subprime crisis, we're all familiar with businesses being "too big to fail" and "too big to jail." But "too big to care?" Oof, that got me right in the feels.
Because that's what it feels like to use enshittified Google. That's what it feels like to discover that Kagi â the good search engine â is mostly Google with the weights adjusted to serve users, not shareholders.
Google used to care. They cared because they were worried about competitors and regulators. They cared because their workers made them care:
https://www.vox.com/future-perfect/2019/4/4/18295933/google-cancels-ai-ethics-board
Google doesn't care anymore. They don't have to. They're the search company.
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi
#pluralistic#john stewart#the daily show#apple#monopoly#lina khan#ftc#too big to fail#too big to jail#monopolism#trustbusting#antitrust#search#enshittification#kagi#google
437 notes
¡
View notes
Text
looking through your eyes + sixteen
authors note: healing is not linear. regression, sadly, is a part of the process. and ultimately, if someone wants to hurt themselves, they will find a way to do so.
*this chapter contains extremely triggering content. please ensure to read all content/trigger warnings to make an informed decision regarding your mental state and ability to consume the following work of fiction. your mental wellbeing is forever and always more important than any story.*
cw/tw: heavy angst, violence, torture, ptsd episode, victim blaming, reference to childhood sexual assault, thoughts and urges of self-harm, suicide attempt
gentle reminder that you can call or text the free, confidential 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 anytime, 24/7.
song inspo: âlooking through your eyesâ by leann rimes
masterlist
words: 8k
âIâI just want to see him. Pleaseââ
Itâs got to be the third or even fourth time sheâs tried to ask, pleading with her husbandâs Wise Man to let her see her husband.
It was hard enough to get Solo to agree to take her to where Roman is, a medical clinic thatâs clearly only open to tend to him and any other Bloodline member injured in the shootout. Thatâs evident by the lack of anyone present outside of an impressive number of Bloodline security.Â
An uninjured Bayley and Naomi met her at the house shortly after she arrived with Solo, and while she was pleased to see they were okay, to hear that Jimmy and Jey also made it out uninjured, the man she cares about the most is ironically the man she seems incapable of checking on.
She canât find a way to settle her anxiety, continuing to play the scene of him shot, outside of her head.Â
Thatâs why she needs to see him.Â
She has to see him.
Paul sighs, and thereâs irritation evident both in his tone and facial expression. âSolana, I donât thinkâhey!â
Fuck it.
Heâs silenced by Solana rushing past him, nearly knocking him over in the process. Eyes wide with shock, he stammers, looking just as bewildered as the security guards around him. âWell, donât just stand there, stop her!â
The men rush to run after her, Solana well aware of the fact that the likelihood of her outrunning them is slim to none.Â
Doesn't mean she canât try.Â
Itâs a silly thought though because of course security would be up and down every hall of the clinic, sets of hardened eyes falling on her, ready to attack when they realize who she is. It changes the dynamic a bit. Expressions still stoic and lethal but also confused.
Solana freezes only for a bit as she forces out her request, a poorly delivered demand, really to the guards that line the hall that she suspects house the room Roman is being treated in.Â
âI need to see my husband.â No one says anything, two of them sharing an expression as Solana decides to try her luck again, knowing that they wouldnât actually shoot her, trying to sprint past them.
Sheâs unlucky this time though because one of the guards catches her, restraining her. This makes her tense up almost immediately, fear rising up yet again for the thousandth time tonight.Â
âLet go of me!â Solana tries to wiggle her way out of the iron grasp, eager and almost needing to get these strange male hands off of her, such a stark contrast to the comfort and safety she feels when itâs Roman who has his hands on her. âI need to see Roman! Please!âÂ
The man holding her and probably pulling her away from the direction of Romanâs room says nothing, just continues to ignore her demands to be released.
âMan, what the hell you doing!â
Solanaâs head snaps to the side as she lays eyes on an enraged Jimmy who stalks over, his mere presence and tone causing the man to release her. Solana gasps a bit as Jimmy grabs the man by his collar and slams him against the wall. âDonât you ever put your fucking hands on her again! You lucky itâs me here and not Roman cause heâd already have a bullet in your head for touching his wife!â
Jimmy looks around, shouting, âthat goes to all of yaâll asses!â He points to Solana. âShe asks for Roman, you take her to fucking Roman, alright?â
Bowed heads of shame and a sudden focus on the laminate flooring of the clinic, Solana is relieved when Jimmy walks over, voice calmer, motioning her to follow him. âCome on, Soso.â
Solana wants to ask Jimmy if heâs okay, inquire about Jey, make sure that theyâre okay. Bayley and Naomi already told her as such, but they donât know that. Itâs just whatâs most polite and appropriate, but all she can think about is Roman and laying eyes on him.
She needs to see him.
And as awful as it may sound, she cares more about making sure her husband is okay before anyone else.
Caught up in her thoughts, she misses when Jimmy knocks on a door in a rhythmic pattern, followed by Jey cracking the door open.
Jimmy sucks his teeth. âMan, open the door. Itâs Soso.â
Solana, however, has no desire to wait any longer and finds herself, pushing on the door, forcing Jey to stumble back. âDamn, girl!â
Sheâs not listening though, uninterested in apologizing because sheâs focused on something else.Â
Focused on someone else.Â
An older man with blonde hair pulled back, dressed way too casually to be a medical professional seems to be finishing up bandaging her husband who stands only feet away, shirtless, revealing the shoulder tourniquet that conceals the wound. The place where he was hurt.
Where he was shot.
Emotion renews, and a new set of tears reload as she finds herself moving over to him, pressing her body into his, doing her best to avoid touching his left shoulder. Her eyes shut, tears spilling over when she feels Romanâs hand on the small of her back.
âGet out.â Itâs directed to the twins and who Solana would guess is the doctor who treated his wound, that last thing being what causes her to pull away, to look over at the stranger.
âNo. Youâyou have to help himââ
The man chuckles and removes the blue latex gloves from his hands. âLil lady, thatâs a job only the big Man Himself can handle.â She frowns a bit as the man with striking blue eyes and an almost country accent explains, âHeâll be fine. Bullet went straight through. Didn't hit any bones, artery, or organs. If he takes it easy for a couple weeks, he'll be good as new. Thatâs assuming, however, he actually follows the doctorâs orders for once.â
Itâs that last sentence that makes Solana wonder if this is the same doctor who diagnosed Roman with high blood pressure and medicated him for it. It makes sense.Â
But, itâs when theyâre alone that the waterworks seem to really come out, Solana unable to hold it in any longer. âIâm sorryâthisâthis is all my fault.â She cries, Roman gently cradling her face as she shakes her head. âYouâyou got hurt because of m-me-.â
Roman looks thoroughly confused, asking, âwhat are you talking about?â
Thereâs such a heaviness in her stomach and on her chest. She doesnât want to do this. God, she really doesnât want to. But, itâs her not doing this in the first place that landed them where they are.Â
âRomanâŚ..â She closes her eyes. This is so much harder than she thought it would be, and she never thought it would be easy per se, but she also didnât think it would be this damn painful. âMyâmy father. HeâŚhe wanted our marriage to happen soâso that Iââ Itâs like knives splitting and slicing the back of her throat as she forces out, âhe wanted me to kill you.â
If Roman has a strong or visceral reaction to her dark confession, he doesnât show it. His expression remains unreadable, maybe a bit of concern, but that was present the minute he laid eyes on her.Â
âAnd he said that if I didnât do it, then heâhe would kill me, and thatâs wâwhy you got hurt tonight, becauseâbecause of me, because I didnât say anything.â A fresh set of tears generate as she desperately tries to help him and make him believe her as she explains, âbut, IâI was never going toâI could neverâIâd rather die than do anything to hâhurt you.â
And itâs the truth.Â
She would have rather him let the bullet hit her than him.Â
Itâs not fair he had to pay for her actions. Or lack, in this case.Â
âSolana.â He cuts her off, gentle, voice much calmer than she anticipated in response to such a confession. âI already knew.â
And just like that, sheâs back to not breathing again, rendered nearly incapable of speech as she stammers out a response, âwâwhat?â
Roman sighs deeply, thumb caressing the apple of her cheek. âI always knew your father was up to something. Iâm far from stupid. He was too eager and pushy to make the marriage happen. It was obvious he had ulterior motives.â His eyes squint a bit, as he asks her, âwhy you think one of the first things I did when we got married was cut off contact between the two of you, huh? Whatever he was planning, I wasnât gonna let him use you to do it.â
Romanâs words together make a logical, sensical sentence, but itâs the processing of it that she struggles with. Roman knew. He knew all along that her father was planning something.Â
And yet he said nothing.
He has no reaction.Â
He continues, admitting, âI didnât know specifically what he had planned, but it doesnât really make a difference. Murder. Coup d'etat. He wasn't the first, and he wonât be the last.â Itâs the casual way he says it that Solana feels so conflicted about, so stunned how he can be so calm about constant threats against his life, against his empire. âThis isnât the first time Iâve been shot, and it probably wonât be the last time.â
âDonât say that.â She whispers. The trauma and shock of seeing him shot was bad enough, and seeing he appears okay is relieving, but the thought of it happening again feels almost unbearable.
âSolana, you know what I am and what I do. But, itâs like I told you before, I have a tendency to not die, which pisses people off.â His delivery towards the end manages to make her smile. Itâs small and sad, but a smile nonetheless. âThere it isâŚ.â His thumb brushes away some of her tears. âDonât cry, baby. You know I donât like seeing you upset.â
She noticed. The same way she doesnât like to see him hurt. For him to be anything other than okay.Â
Romanâs eyes shift into something softer as he asks, âwhy didnât you tell me?â Itâs a question born from curiosity versus the accusatory nature she would expect from someone who was just told their wife was sent to kill them.Â
Itâs a bit of a difficult one to answer too. âI wasâI was scared. At the beginning of our marriage, IâI was scared what you would do to me ifâif I told you.âÂ
Thereâs an almost pained look that flashes across his face as he vows, âSolana, you know I would neverââ
âI know. I know that now.â She stresses, gently cutting him off. Thereâs not a doubt in her mind that Roman would never do anything to intentionally hurt her. âBut, IâI didnât then. AndâŚ.I think I justâI didnât want to think about it, because things were going good andâand I hadnât seen him in so long, but I was wrongâand I should have said something soonerââ
âIt doesnât matter.â Heâs the one to cut her off this time, shaking his head. âBut Solana, your father has crossed a line this time. He tried to kill you.â Romanâs eyes are blazing with with the flame of anger and fury, a desire for vengeance clearly dancing at the forefront of his mind. âI know I told you I wouldnât kill him until you told meââ
âI donât care,â she affirms, voice darkening into something also angry. âHeâhe tried to take you from me. I donâtâI donât care what happens to him anymore. Him or Wes.âÂ
Because while she doesnât know the status of her brother and his recovery, Wes was just as involved with the evil plan, so what went down tonight had to have some influence from him in one way or another. It makes him just as guilty.Â
Roman nods and kisses her temple. He then calls out, âJey.â Itâs loud enough for his cousin to hear, opening the door and asking, âwhatâs up?â
Roman doesnât hesitate. âGet me Miller. Just Xavier.â Solana must look curious as he explains, âyour brother isnât well enough yet. I want him back to health, so I can prolong his torture.â It paints a picture of a brutal, gruesome ending, but she canât find it in her to be repulsed. Whatever hope she had for her brother is clearly long gone, if it was ever there.
âYou got it.â Jey nods and closes the door as Solana places her hand on Romanâs forearm, drawing his attention down to her.Â
âIâI want to talk to him beforeâ-â She swallows, asking, âplease?â
Roman nods. âOf course.â Sheâs thankful for his agreement but not entirely surprised. He breaks away from her, countenance shifts into something stoic and determined.Â
âThis ends tonight.âÂ
________
Solanaâs introduction to the place where her husband has probably taken and ended more lives than sheâd like to admit is definitely a one and done thing. The atmosphere alone is so dark and depressing that if not for her hand in his and him walking closely alongside her, she might even find herself a bit scared.
But his presence along with her determination to get in her final words to her father manage to carry her over.Â
Sheâs also both surprised and relieved when she sees Bayley and Naomi also present. Sheâs unable to ask them about their presence because Roman is already explaining, âI know you donât want to be home alone tonight, and Iâm not making it back anytime soon.â
She nods, not needing to know why. The edge in his voice is all the telling she needs.
Solanaâs stomach drops a bit when sheâs taken to her father, strapped to a chair, hands and wrists tied. His face is bruised up, cut, and bleeding. Her eyes must give away her curiosity, Jimmy answering, âhe fell.âÂ
Jey suddenly punches him in the side of his head. âAinât that what you said when you and your boy was beating on your own fucking daughter?â
Solana swallows. Yes. Thatâs often what he said to cover up the result of their abuse.
Solana drops her hand and steps a bit closer to him, Roman not once moving or ripping his eyes away from them. Itâs virtually impossible for Xavier to do anything to her, but she understands her husband is not willing to take any risks, regardless.Â
She ignores the weapons and items around her, no doubt intended for unspeakable acts of violence and torture. She just focuses on the man before her, taking in the fact that this is the last time sheâll ever stare into his dark eyes and have to look at his evil face.Â
âAllâall I ever wantedâŚ.was for you to love me.â She hates the emotion that chunks up the back of her throat, making it a bit harder for her to speak. âBut you never did, and you never will, andâand thatâs okay.â She recalls one of the many powerful, profound quotes from her book, reciting it boldly and confidently. âYour inability to love me is not a reflection on my ability to be loved.â Sheâd like to say she witnesses some type of emotional reaction in her father at her powerful statement, but thereâs nothing there.
There never was.Â
Stepping back, she takes one final look at him, accepting this is the end of this road. The end of all the hurt and pain heâs ever caused her. After tonight, itâs all over. âGoodbye, Dad.âÂ
Solana is back by Roman, taking her hand in his as Xavierâs small, dark laughter draws her attention back to him.Â
âDidnât you ever wonder how they bypassed the security system? Both times?â
Solanaâs brows are furrowed, confusion dancing in her eyes. Before she can say anything, Roman barks a rough order to the twins, âgag him!âÂ
One glance at him, and she sees something unfamiliar, something that looks strangely close to nervousness.Â
To fear.Â
âNo,â she finds herself calling out, stopping Jey who was halfway close to doing just that, bandana in his right hand. âWhatâwhat are you talking about?â
âSolana, heâs just trying to fuck with your head.â She hears Roman, feels his slight tug on her sleeve as he tries to pull her away, but she also detects something else.
Avoidance.Â
Roman is intentionally trying to divert her away from this conversation, topic, whatever it is.
Xavier chuckles cruelly, coughing up a bit of blood. âI warned that bitch. I told her what would happen if she tried to take Wesley away from me.âÂ
NowâŚnow he has Solanaâs full attention.Â
She steps toward him, asking again, âwhat are you tâtalking about?â
âSolana, pleaseââ
But, she continues to ignore Roman and instead focuses on whatever it is her father is about to drop on her, something she feels is about to change everything.Â
Xavierâs bloody smile is cruel and taunting as he reveals, âI was the one who ordered the hit on your mother.â And before she can even sit on that, another bomb is dropped. âAnd you.â
Solana staggers back, jerking away from Roman as he reaches to touch her. Her mouth is dropped, her heartbeat erratic. She all of a sudden feels dizzy, but it doesnât stop her from asking again, âwhatâwhat did you just say?â
âShut him up, Jey!â
âNo!â Solana shouts both at her husband and his cousin. âI want to know!â
âYour mother was planning to take you and Wesley away from me, and truth be told, if she left Wesley and just took you, I probably wouldnât have given a fuck. But no, she wanted both of her children. She was a problem, so I got rid of her.â Each word that leaves his mouth has Solana wanting to sink further and further into the ground. âThe hit was for both of you, but of course, you fucking survived.â The venom in his voice and hatred in his eyes is almost palpable, further deepening the pain of this betrayal. âI refused to pay them the full amount since they botched the job and didnât kill you, but that still left the balance for your motherâŚ.the balance you paid for me.â And with the most vile smile of all, he adds on coarsely, âwhoâd have thought a kidâs virginity would sell so high?â
And itâs that statement. That cruel, vindictive statement that breaks her.
Hand to her stomach, Solana almost collapses to the floor but Roman is behind her, catching her fall.Â
Now that she can focus on him, on anything other than the millions thoughts racing through her mind. Random facts and statements finally coming together, painting a horrific, grim picture.
The failure of the security system both times.
The failed pin entry of her momâs shaking hands and two years later, Solanaâs shaking hand, as they desperately tried to enter the panic room, only for it to flash a red rejection notice.
It was him the whole time.
He killed her mother. He was the one responsible for her rape.
All of it.Â
Emotions erupt to the surface as Solana tries to break from Romanâs embrace and lunge for her father.
âI hate you!â She screams, unable to think and see beyond her pain. âI fucking hate you!â She canât stop trying to break Romanâs solid grip on her. She wants to hit him. Wants to stab him. Burn him. Anything and everything that can make him feel just a fraction of her agony. âHow could you do that to me!â She cries, wanting, needing an answer. Needing to know why. âI was a child!â Sheâs never felt something so heavy, so painful. âI was your child!âÂ
As her physical resolve breaks, more diminishes than anything, Solana feels Roman trying to guide her away.
But itâs a mistake, itâs a mistake because she uses that slice of an opening to break away from him and snatch one of the guns on a table, pointing it at her fatherâs head. But then, sheâs not. Sheâs not because Roman is suddenly standing between her and her target.
Her resolve falters for a bit, as she shouts at him, âmove!â
Jimmyâs furious voice calls out. âMan, let her do it, Roman!â
Romanâs gaze is fiery as he silences his cousin with a shout. âShut up!â But just as quickly as he was enraged, his expression softens almost inhumanly quickly as he pleads, âSolana, listen to meââ
Sheâs not trying to hear it though. She canât hear it. âHe killed my mother! My mother!â
âI know,â his expression softens into something solemn and sympathetic. âBut you donât want to do thisââ
She snaps, her fingers on the gun tightening, her grip firm and focused. âHe needs to die!â
âAnd he will, I promise you that. Slowly. Gradually. In the agonizing way that he deserves, but that can only happen if you let me do this for youââ
Solana cries, shoulders dropping but her aim still intact. âHe let them rape me.â Her body trembles, a combination of her heartache and inconsolable rage. âHe took her from me! She was my mother!â
If not for the severity and all around heightened tensions, Solana would notice the heartbreaking and furious expressions of the twins, Bayely, and Naomi who now know the exact horror she has experienced. The reason for her disposition. The source of her trauma.
Roman, however, remains focused on de-escalating the situation. âI know, baby, but youâre not a killer, Solana, and Iâm not about to let you become one.â If she was thinking straight, capable of thinking clearly in this moment, sheâd know heâs only protecting her. Only trying to save her from the thing she told him not even a week ago she could never forgive herself for. Taking someoneâs life. âOnce you do this, thereâs no turning back.â
Solanaâs eyes shut as another round of tears makes its way to the surface, heavier and harder to manage with the gun in her hand.
Roman notices this and takes a tentative step forward. âPlease, Solana.â His tone is almost desperate, borderline begging. âGive me the gun.â
Eyes still closed and with a weakness she hasnât felt in years, Solana relents, loosening her grip, allowing Roman to take the gun that he quickly hands to Jey. He moves to catch her as she falls into his chest, sobbing again. Roman cradles her head and kisses the top of her hair while Jimmy and Jey move to jump Xavier, taking that opportunity to get blows in on the old man, both careful to avoid any that could be lethal.
Itâs obvious this son of a bitch is in line for a world of suffering that will extend far past tonight.
âOh, we finna take our time killing you, motherfucker.âÂ
Everything sounds a bit distant. The sound of the twins yelling obscenities at the demon she called a father. Roman trying to comfort her, to settle her. Itâs all too much. Too overwhelming. The crying settles into something sullen and solemn, silent tears streaming down her face as she murmurs against him, âI want to go home.â
The emotion is there, but her presence and awareness of everything is diminishing. Solana knows whatâs coming, has experienced this state of separation, of dissociating.Â
She needs to get away.
Roman says something she canât make out, and before she realizes it, thereâs another set of arms around her. Bayley. Naomi is chatting with Roman, the only thing sheâs able to make out,Â
âDonât leave her alone.â
Alone.
Sheâs not sure sheâs ever felt that as strongly as she does at this moment.
________
Itâs all such a blur.
Such a separate thing. Emotions separate from her. Emotions that are dark, heavy, confusing, overwhelming. Fleeting. Thereâs an oscillation of all the feelings. Tears that accompany heartache. Sobbing that accompanies grief. Nothing that arrives with nothing.Â
Itâs a brutal, miserable experience of feeling the weight of the world but also the emptiness of the void.
Itâs obvious that Naomi and Bayley donât know how to help her, donât know how to comfort her, just continue to sit with her, letting her cry when she needs to and scream when she has to. Even Dulce sits by her side, whimpering every so often and licking her.
Itâs appreciated. So appreciated.Â
ButâŚ.itâs not enough.
Losing her mother was heartbreaking. Losing her in the way she did, so violently and graphically was torture.
Being held down and gang raped by two grown men at twelve years old nearly killed her. They nearly killed her.
But, thereâs something about finding out that her father, her biological father, was responsible for those two things thatâs almost impossible to believe.
She knew her father was cruel.
She just didnât know just how cruel until this very evening.Â
Escape.
Her mother was trying to escape, trying to make a better life for herself and her children. And he killed her for it.
Tried to kill Solana too, and when that didnât work, he traded her virginity in exchange for payment.Â
Flashes. Glimpses. Images.Â
Theyâve been hitting her nonstop since the truth came out. Playing in her mind like some kind of sick horror film. Itâs torture. Itâs painful. Itâs unbearable.
Itâs too much.Â
She places her hands on the bathroom counter, having finished using the bathroom after waking up yet again from night terrors.
Her eyes shut.
Solana is tired.
So so tired. Tired of the pain. Of the lies. Of the betrayal. Everything hurts. Everything feels so heavy. She tries to escape in sleep, but the memories haunt her and suddenly, sheâs reliving it all, but now with the horrific knowledge that the first man who should have ever loved and protected her was responsible for her biggest traumas.
And itâs impossible to escape those flashes, those thoughts and flashbacks becoming more frequent and intrusive by the minute. Sheâs suffocating.
Drowning in her own head.
Drowning in her own body.Â
Solanaâs eyes open and fall over to the shower where her razor would have been available if not for her earlier strength and ability to hand it and the brand new box of them over to Bayley and Naomi.
Just an hour or two ago, she was able to do that much. Able to resist that temptation and not break years of sobriety.
But, nowâŚ. now she canât.Â
She doesnât even want to.
That would only provide a temporary escape.
Sheâs justâŚ.just so tired.
She wantsâŚ.needs something longer.
Something more permanent.Â
Unable to escape the mental anguish, Solana leans down and digs through a toiletries bag from the trip she hasnât unpacked.Â
And she pulls out the bottle of sleeping pills.Â
Romanâs request from months ago returns, smacking into her.Â
âAny of those thoughts come back, you tell me. I donât care if you have to paint it on the fucking wall. I want to know.â His intense expression is set right on her, needing to make sure she understands what heâs asking of her. âUnderstand?â
Her eyes water.
RomanâŚ.
Even with his lack of being honest with her, of somehow knowing but not telling her the truth, thereâs never been a person that sheâs loved more than him. Not since her mom.
Itâs why she canât call him. Canât continue to burden him with having to deal with all her shit.
All sheâs done since entering his life is make shit difficult. Sheâs done it with him. Bayley. Naomi. Jimmy. Jey.Â
All of them.
Theyâve had to adjust so much just for her, and for what? For her to end up right back where she started?
She canâtâŚ.she canât do that to them again.
She canât do that to Roman again.
She loves him too much for that, loves him too much to continue to hurt him.
She justâŚ.she just needs to remove herself from the equation.
Needs to remove herself from all of their lives.Â
Forever.Â
Shaking hands twist off the cap as she dumps a handful of pills into her trembling palm.
Thereâs the briefest second of a delay, a moment where she reconsiders, where she wonders if sheâs making the right decision. But another flashback hits her, the feeling of the knife slicing through her motherâs lifeless body and entering Solana ripping her away from that reconsideration.
Another thought of Roman and her friends having to help her yet again.
Save her again.
She canât do it anymore. She doesnât want to do it anymore.
There is no saving her anymore.
This is the only way.Â
And she swallows, using the water bottle on the counter to force the excessive amount of pills down her throat. A brief glance at her reflection brings on another set of silent tears. Broken. Empty. Thereâs nothing left for her to do, no reason for her to exist anymore.
Not even bothering to put the pills away, Solana walks out of the bathroom and into the dark bedroom where Bayley is the first to ask, still sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, dedicated to staying awake for her âshiftâ, completely unaware of this being the last time theyâll interact. âDo you need something?â
Solana shakes her head and climbs back onto the bed. Grabbing her phone, ignoring the tears that blur her vision, she types out a simple text to the one person sheâll miss the most.Â
Sheâll miss them all, but none more than him.
Solana: Iâm sorry.Â
Sent and delivered, she locks her phone, placing it on the nightstand, closing her eyes.Â
Solana just wants to go to sleep.
And this timeâŚ..not wake up.
________
Rage.Â
Fury.
Wrath.
And any word synonymous to anger, yet none of them adequately describe whatâs coursing all throughout Romanâs body. Years. Itâs been years since heâs felt this much anger, held so much of it that he has a hard time thinking and feeling.
Heâs incapable of escaping the sound of Solanaâs sobbing, the way she literally fell apart in front of him, breaking before him.
And itâs all because of the son of a bitch currently underneath him on the receiving end of devastating blow after blow of Romanâs brass knuckled fists. How long heâs been hitting the old man is beyond him. Not long enough.
Itâll never be long enough.
Never painful enough.Â
Not for what heâs done.
A hand on his uninjured shoulder temporarily pulls him away from his newfound life mission to make this piece of shit feel every type of pain imaginable before he takes his last breath.Â
Romanâs roar bounces off the walls. âWhat!â
Jey looks unfazed by Romanâs irate tone and instead advises, âheâs unconscious, Uce. Let up or you gon kill him.â
Thatâs the fucking goal.
But not yet. Death is too sweet for Xavier to receive at this point.
Huffing and suddenly aware of all the energy expended as well as the blood splattered all over his clothes and face, Roman tosses the knuckles to the side and issues an order to Jey even while walking, refusing to acknowledge any appreciation for his warning, âlet me know when Jimmy has them.â
Them.
Them being the two men who have no idea what kind of horror awaits them. Men whose names were tortured out of Xavier pretty easily by Roman.
Rapists.
Solanaâs rapists.Â
Reaching the locker room in the back, Roman easily strips himself naked and steps in the shower, allowing the water to rain down his body, red mixing with clear and disappearing down the drain. Hands against the shower wall, he shuts his eyes.
He canât escape the sound of Solanaâs wails. Heâs never heard or seen her so upset. Never wanted to. Itâs the exact reason he settled on not telling her the truth, because he knew this would happen.
Knew this would destroy her.
Itâs just the extent of the destruction that worries him.
Just how far back this has set her that has him feeling something he hasnât felt in years but has now experienced twice tonight. Once when he saw the hand raised and gun lifted in Solanaâs direction and now her breakdown.
Fear.
It has him scared.
And Roman doesn't know what to do with that emotion, doesnât know how to handle it outside of beating the shit out of and torturing her father and rapists. But even that only does so much.
It doesnât do enough, because sheâs hurting, more than she probably ever has, and he canât do shit about it.
Because making the fuckers who hurt her suffer doesnât do shit for the pain sheâs experiencing now.
And he hates that shit. Hates that sheâs hurting and he canât help her, take away that pain from her.
With all the frustration in his body, Roman slams his fist into the shower wall, forcing himself to calm down just enough to get cleaned up.
He uses a fresh set of clothes in the lockers to redress himself, redoing his bandages and using a towel to dry off his hair as best as possible.Â
But, itâs when Jey comes and seems to interfere with Roman starting his next round of torture, a thought of starting to skin the old man sounding more than desirable, that his frustration multiplies.
âNot now.â
Roman continues to walk when he feels Jey forcefully grab his arm, forcing him to turn around. Roman looks at his hand and then back at Jey. âHave you lostââ
âRoman.âÂ
But, itâs the tone that stops the Head of the Table from issuing out his threat. In all the years heâs known Jey, heâs never heard his cousin use such a heavy, spooked tone.
âWhat?â Thereâs hesitation, and that only pisses Roman off. âWhat!â
Jey swallows, answering with an almost pained countenance. âSolanaâs at the hospital.â Jeyâs frown, sadness seeped and imbued into his usual gregarious voice. âShe tried to kill herself, Roman.â
________
Three.
Thereâs now been three separate occurrences in a single day that have caused Roman to experience the emotion most unfamiliar to him.
Fear.
And this third time, itâs the strongest itâs ever been as he marches into the hospital floor where he was informed she was.
âWhere is she!â
And when his gaze lands on a clearly disturbed and crying Naomi and Bayley, the anger only grows as he moves over to them. âWhat the fuck happened!â Roman doesnât give them time to respond, too consumed with his anger thatâs truly a mask hiding his fear. âWhy werenât you watching her! I fucking told you to watch her!â
Bayley is the first to shoot up from her chair, eyes watery but scowl intact. âWe were! Sheââ
But, heâs not trying to hear shit what she has to say. Not when theyâve failed him in the worst way possible. âObviously you fucking werenât because weâre standing in a goddamn hosptalââ
Jimmy, who Roman had completely forgotten came along with him, Jey as well, does his best to diffuse the situation, placing a hand on his shoulder. âRoman, you need to calmââ
But the Head of the Table is too far gone, harshly shrugging off his cousinâs innocent attempt at calming him down. âDonât fucking touch me!â Roman removes himself from their presence, not even wanting to see these useless bitches as he calls out once again. âWhere is she!â
Itâs only then he sees a blonde woman walk out from the back, dressed in a white coat, clipboard in hand. She looks irritated which only pisses him off because how the fuck do you work at a fucking hospital and look annoyed. But, when she sees him, or maybe sees how irate he is, her gaze softens.Â
She steps in his direction as Roman also steps toward her, putting some distance between himself and the group. âMr. Reigns, canââ
âWhere is my wife?â Itâs the same question he will keep asking until it no longer needs to be asked because heâs taken to her.
The woman, doctor, probably, frowns, motioning to the back. âCan we talk in private?â
Roman pinches the bridge of his nose, doing his best not to violate his code of never putting his hands on a woman. But, this bitch is really fucking pushing it.Â
He just wants to see Solana.
He needs to see her.Â
âYouâve got three fucking seconds to take meââ
She scoffs, relenting and âFine, weâll do it here. Your wife is in recovery. We were able to successfully pump her stomach, but we had to sedate her because she was inconsolable upon waking up. I suspect sheâs in the midst of some sort of psychotic episode.â
Thereâs so much in that sentence to process. Roman doesnât even know where to begin to dissect it, so he starts with the part that pisses him off the most. âShe tried to overdose on pills and your solution was to put more fucking medicine in her?â
The doctor, however, seems to show no sign of backing down. âMy patient needed to be stabilized, so I stabilized her.â Her voice softens a bit as she adds, not necessarily as something to throw in his face but rather an important note he shouldnât ignore. âIf you had seen how upset she was, you would have understood.â
Roman, however, canât think about that. Canât think about how upset and terrified Solana must have been. Somehow a level calmer, he expresses once again, âI want to see her.â
âI understand, butââ
Right away, Roman knows his brief respite from level 10 rage is about to be broken by whatever sheâs about to say. âWhat?â
She takes a deep breath, informing, âIâm putting her on a 5250 hold.â
Roman looks from side to side. âWhat the fuck does that mean?â
Thereâs no sign of hesitation as she explains, âit means Iâm keeping her here in the hospital for two weeks on a legally mandated psychiatric hold.â
YeahâŚ.he was absolutely right.Â
Level fucking 10.Â
âLike hell you are!â Roman is seeing red. Who in the flying fuck does this bitch think she is to say Solana is staying in the hospital? âSheâs coming home with me. Tonight. The minute she fucking wakes up.â
And thatâs a fact.
âHow much do you know about Solanaâs psychiatric history?â A lot, and thatâs why he knows she doesnât need to stay here in this forbidding, sterile place. She needs to be home with him so he can take care of her. âThis is her second suicide attempt. Now, I donât know what the hell happened to trigger this psychotic break, but your wife is severely and actively suicidal.â She lowers her voice, softly and almost sympathetically sharing with him so only he can hear. âShe was inconsolable because she was upset we saved her life. She was upset she was still alive.â
Thatâs it.
The thing that makes Romanâs anger crumble almost entirely.Â
He wanted to believe it was a mistake, an accident of some sort. Didnât want to believe that she truly intended to take her life tonight.
But this woman has no reason to lie, and beyond that, heâs innately adept at deciphering when someone is lying and when theyâre being truthful.Â
Sheâs not lying.Â
Solana wanted to die.
Solana wanted to actually die.
And he doesnât know what to do with that information.Â
At all.Â
The crack in his harsh exterior must be evident, because the doctor continues to try to convince him what he now knows probably is the right thing to do. âYou can get her to sign an AMA and take her home, but I guarantee you that sheâll end up right back in this hospital for another attemptâŚ..and the next time might be too late.â
He canât.
Roman canât lose her. He canât even let himself think about what he would do if he lost her.
Especially if it was because of her own actions.Â
She continues, desperate, âlet us get her stabilized. On a medication regimen. As I said, this presents as a brief psychotic episode, which we can help her manage and treat but only if you let us keep her here to monitor her.âÂ
Roman tilts his head back, eyes closed as he scratches his beard. Thereâs an unfamiliar weight in his chest and stomach at the thought of having to leave this hospital tonight without Solana. But this isnât about what he wants, itâs about whatâs best for Solana.Â
Itâs about what she needs, and heâll do whatever he has to do to make sure she gets the help she needs.Â
âJey.â His cousin steps up, previously keeping a respectful distance. âGet with security. I donât want a son of a bitch thatâs not Bloodline or Bloodline vetted to step foot on this floor while sheâs here.â
Jey nods. âYou got it.âÂ
Roman overhears footsteps followed by the woman speaking again, âThank you.â She takes another deep breath and informs, âNow, itâs standard practice that we not allow visitors the first couple daysââ
And just like that, the anger has returned, even more intense now that he knows Solana isnât getting released tonight. Or anytime soon. âI donât give a fuck about your standard practiceââ
Bayleyâs voice suddenly enters the conversation, Roman aware that the remaining group has stepped forward, obviously wanting to be aware of the plan and what happens now. âRoman, can you please just let Dr. Stratus do her fucking job? This isnât aboutââ
Bayley, however, chose the wrong time to fuck with him. Because any filter he ever acquired because of Solana certainly wonât be used until sheâs back home, with him, where she belongs. âLike you were supposed to? Solana wouldnât be here if you were watching her like I fucking told you to! This is your fault!â
Thereâs a small, minute part of him that feels bad when he sees the devastation on Bayleyâs face, but itâs short lived, vastly overpowered by his tremendous anger.Â
And fear.
Bayley is quick with the response though, ready and willing to aim just as low as he is. âFuck you, Roman! You donât get to blame this on us! You should have fucking told her! You had no right to keep the truth from her! Sheâs here because of you!â
The dark irony in her accusation is that Itâs nothing he doesnât already know.
Nothing he doesnât already hate himself for.
Bayley is absolutely right.
This absolutely is on him.Â
His attempts to save her only damned her.Â
âStop it! Both of yaâll! This donât do shit to help, and Solana wouldnât want yaâll fighting!â Jimmy suddenly jumps in, moving between the two highly emotional people, even if both are only expressing it as anger. He turns to his cousin first, as Naomi tries to pull Bayley away, also working to de-escalate an already tense situation. âLook, Uce, I know you want to see her, butââ
âIâm not leaving without seeing her.â Romanâs gaze is on his cousin but itâs directed toward the doctor who either takes some type of mercy on him or recognizes that Roman will literally kill everyone who gets in his way if she doesnât give in to his demand, because sheâs switching her tune.
âA couple of minutes,â she relents. âBut only you.âÂ
Roman doesnât care about the rest of them anyway. They can see her whenever they fucking see her.Â
Heâs the one who needs to see her.Â
But, itâs in seeing her that a part of him wishes he didnât. Because this isnât right. She shouldnât be laid up like this, unconscious, pale, such a sad expression on her sleeping face.
He hasnât seen her like this since that first night he overheard and woke her up from her nightmare.
A nightmare.Â
Heâd give anything for that to be the case again.Â
âI canât lose you, Solana.â It's the first thing to leave his mouth, a plea and prayer. Thereâs nothing but vulnerability in his voice, and he doesnât give a fuck. Heâll be as vulnerable as he needs to be for her. Heâll do anything for her. âI need you. I told you that, but I donât think you understand how badly I need you.â
If there was any doubt before, itâs completely destroyed now. He doesnât know how honest or comfortable he could be outside of these four walls, if it wasnât just the two of them, but right now, with nothing but her steady breathing and rhythmic beating of the machines sheâs plugged up to, heâll pour his heart out.
âYou canât leave me, alright?â Romanâs hand moves to her forehead, thumb caressing her skin that feels too cold, doesnât feel like her. âI donât care what it takes, what you need, what I have to fucking do, but I need you to get better, and Iâll do anything to help you.âÂ
And he will. Itâs why despite how much he hates this notion of having to leave her, the almost anxiety he has at having to leave tonight without her in his arms, heâll do it. Heâll do it because he just wants her to be happy.
She deserves that, and heâll do whatever it takes to get it to her.Â
His voice is thick with emotion. âI just need you to stay with me, baby, okay?â Not being able to see her pretty brown eyes, the curl of her full lips as she smiles, his favorite fucking thing in the world, itâs torture.
He never wants to see her like this again.Â
He canât.Â
He wonât.
Roman kisses her forehead and forces himself to walk out of the hospital room, one of the hardest departures heâs ever had to do. Dr. Stratus is waiting outside the door, and just like that, the infamous stoic, unreadable expression is back.
With Solana, heâs just Roman.
But for everyone else, heâs the Tribal Chief.Â
There is no other option.Â
âNo men on her care team. Women only.â If sheâs going to be here, heâs going to make sure she
has everything she needs. âI want daily updates. Anything happens or changes with her status at all, I want to know. You understand me?â
Dr. Stratus must have also read the section in Solanaâs medical records that alludes to her sexual trauma, because she doesnât object. âUnderstood.â She swallows, bringing the medical chart to her chest. âYou knowâŚI head an inpatient womenâs psychiatric clinic about an hour out. Itâs not uncommon for patients like your wife to transition there following disââ
âYou can keep her on your two week hold, but sheâs coming home with me as soon as thatâs up. Try and get in my way, and Iâll fucking kill you.â
Sheâs wise to not push, smart to not try to stop him from leaving, because as far as Roman is concerned, thereâs nothing and no one heâll stop short from torturing, killing, and maiming if they try to get in his way of being with Solana.
He canât live without her.
He loves her too much to live without her.
188 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Fic Rec List - Carlos/Oscar
if your fic is on this list and you donât want it to be, please let me know and we will remove it immediately, no questions asked. we have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop us a messageđ¤
have a pairing you want us to do next? please read the faqs and then head to the inbox.
donât forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments!
the carlos/oscar ship (affectionately known as carcar) has taken off in recent weeks. we wanted to share some of our favourite fics with you!
new to the fun? you can find a carcar primer here, written by @blueballsracing đ§Ąâ¤
enjoy!
nsfw: reckless attention by @janinaduszejko | E | 4.2k Carlos and Oscar have a casual hookup arrangement. Both have very different ideas about how significant it is. I really like unreliable POV in fic like this. Oscar thinks he's having casual, convenient hookups with Carlos, and is determined not to examine his feelings too closely. Carlos, meanwhile, is having a crisis over it, experiencing wants and urges he has no clue how to even begin handling. Being into a guy is confusing enough, but apparently to be submissive as well? No wonder he can't do it sober.
A quick-fire flash of something mawkish blitzes up Oscarâs spine and he sets his jaw against it. He keeps Carlosâs head in place and sets a new rhythm, fucking up in quick, even strokes. Carlos groans and Oscar can feel it around the head of his cock, the taut vibration of it, the hot clench of Carlosâs throat. Oscarâs skin feels like itâs got a current running through it, prickling sharp. His brain feels fuzzy, thoughts unable to get purchase and linger.
nsfw: the better half of a good time by @antimonyandthyme | E | 4.4k Canon divergence, future fic, sex work. Oscar, a few years into his Formula 1 career now, is locked in a bitter WDC fight with Lando. Their relationship has completely soured. He cruises the streets one night and finds a sex worker. The man, a few years older than Oscar, is vaguely familiar. Fics which explore how tenuous and elusive motorsports careers can be, how a few small changes of circumstance can result in a career failing to launch at all, are fascinating to me, and this one is no exception. The author paints a picture of a world just ever so slightly skewed from our own, one where a few unlucky moments resulted in a very different life path for Carlos.
'Heâs not angry, not really. His thoughts canât help but stray to Lando. Those last few times were mean. And being mean takes effort, more effort than Oscar sees fit to expend. Then the last few times had dried up to nothing, and Oscar had taken to searching for other ways he could keep winning outside the track, because nothing on track actually felt like winning anymore.'
nsfw: Open mouth, on my knees (for you)Â by @lovelylotusf1 | E | 4.9k Oscar has a bad gag reflex and asks Carlos to help him train it away so heâd be good for Lando. What ensues is desire and power dynamics and taking what you need from the other person. I really enjoyed how the author depicted Oscarâs internal thought process and the journey of hatred to desire. The way Landoâs existence was used as almost a pawn was also written really well!
nsfw: hatred cradles you by @foggieststars | E | 6.8k Carlos comes to Oscarâs hotel room in search of Lando. What ensues is bickering, rising tension, and passionate hate sex. I love the palpable tension woven throughout this fic, Oscar and Carlosâ characterisations are so fun and fit so well together. The dialogue and the bickering is fun and fast paced and makes you want to read more! Amazing work by this author as always.
when both our cars collide by @oscarpiastriwdc | M | 8.4k Carlos finds himself stuck in a time loop, experiencing the same qualifying crash with Oscar over and over. I love time loop fic. There is something about being given the chance to fix something or change something, being able to examine a situation over and over in granular detail, that works especially well in F1 RPF where milliseconds can make a difference. As per the best Groundhog Day fics, it's not so much about what Carlos does as how he feels, and he finds himself drawing ever closer to Oscar as the loops stack. Oh, and there's a really cute dog.
'âIs that your dog?â Caligula wiggles, instinctually sensing the conversation has shifted to her. âYes.â âI never pictured you with a tiny dog.â Carlos snorts. âWhat, you thought I would have a big, mean dog?â âMore like a cat who scratches your eyes out.â âSheâll do that, too.â âWhatâs her name?â âCaligula.â Oscar makes a strange noise, a cross between a laugh and a sneeze. âCaligula? Thatâs an⌠odd name. Can I?â Oscar extends a hand, questioning. Carlos nods, and Oscar lets Caligula sniff his fingers. She catches a taste of something appetizing and nibbles at his fingers. âSorryââ âNo, sheâs sweet.â The âunlike youâ remains unspoken'
nsfw: moth to a flame by @blueballsracing | E | 15.5k Enemies to lovers carcar with some hate sex and plot (aka Carlos moves to Red Bull next season). This was really fun to write and I loved going into Carlos' mind and writing their dynamics!
'For a split second, his thoughts fill up with wonders about the future, but heâs stuck in the past. Blue, yellow, orange, and red line his visionâand suddenly, a montage of memories obstruct his vision. Heâs 20 when he drives at the Australian Grand Prix for the first time he debuts with Toro Rosso. Heâs 20 when heâs next to 17-year-old Max playing word tennis in a car. Heâs 21 when he crashes in qualifying at COTA, but makes up 10 positions on the first lap and finishes in the points. Heâs 21 when he out-qualifies Max for a whole season, 10-9. Itâs the little wins that matterâfor, life is not a sprint, but a marathon. Heâs 22 when Toro Rosso is a mess in the 2017 season, but he comes out on top as the superior driver of the 4 that âhalfâ season. He leaves to save face, to get away from the screaming toxicity that is Jos Verstappen. Heâs 23 when he drives for Renault for the first time and scores points. Heâs 24 when heâs replaced by another Red Bull reject driver, Daniel, when he leaves Renault for McLaren. Exceptâhe thinks otherwise. Red Bull didnât reject both him and Daniel. Quite the opposite. The ages muddle together, but the story stays the same. He crashes and scores points andâhe leaves and leaves and leaves. He gets his first podium and thanks the Brazilian audience, he leaves, he replaces a world champion, he gets his first and second and third win, is called slurs and hate names every single time for it, he leaves, he leaves, he leaves.'
nsfw: Grill the Grid by @mercurial-vroom | E | 23.2k (wip) Oscar, a very socially anxious engineering student, agrees to join Lando's pub quiz team. His rival on the team turns out to be Carlos. This fic is light and funny while at the same time examining what it can be like to be socially awkward and anxious. Seeing Oscar settle into the group dynamic is great, and the interplay among all the characters creates some great sparks.
Then, Carlos picked up the glass and took a long pull, his eyes still not leaving Oscarâs as he did so. âWell done,â he said with a small smile. Oscar noticed after he set the drink down that his plush lips were damp and shiny from the foamy beer. âI guess I am off my game tonight. Good show, Oscar.â And although he knew he should still be basking pettily in his moment of small-but-gratifying triumph⌠all of the sudden, Oscar found that all he could focus on was the fact that this was the first time heâd heard Carlos actually use his name. He was deeply unnerved to realize just how much heâd liked the sound of it.
nsfw: he just turned in like i didn't exist by @drivestraight | E | 36.5k Carlos and Oscar develop a soul bond. Neither of them are thrilled about this. This fic is wonderful. The soulbond complicates their already prickly relationship, until they start to develop an understanding and find empathy for one another. Oscar keeps getting little zings of stress from Carlos which we know are about his contract. Oscar, meanwhile, is starting to work a few things out about his sexuality and finds Carlos to be a surprisingly kind and patient presence in his mind.
'Oscar swallows. You heard me? he asks, uselessly. That first day, Oscar had assumed that everything Carlos heard, he responded to. Carlos hadnâtâhadnât responded to any of those thoughts. Oscar hadnât known. I heard everything. It is not very pleasant to have someone tell you how unwanted you are all the time. How you would prefer it to be literally anyone else. Bringing the incident up was the only way to get you to stop thinking about how horrible it was to have me as a soulmate. You do not think as quietly as you think. Oscarâs throat feels tight, a sinking and horrible feeling settling into his gut. Carlos hadnâtâat least not in Englishâhadnât thought a single thing about how horrible their bond was. Oscarâs been the asshole this whole time, hasnât he? I didnât mean it like that, he tries. It feels like a lie even to himself. Carlos doesnât respond. Iâm sorry, Oscar tries again, playing with the ring on his index finger. Carlos is silent for the rest of the weekend. Oscar finds out later, from Lando, that it was Carlosâ birthday.'
246 notes
¡
View notes
Text
âwhat was your family like?â
the question causes dazai to freeze in his tracks, in the middle of grabbing a bag of chips from your cabinet. youâd never once asked something like this, anything about his past life at all. he was immensely grateful for the fact youâd let him reveal parts of himself over time at his own pace, leading to the comfortable spot in your current relationship.Â
until this moment, that is.
with a nervous laugh, he calls back out to you, âwhy are you asking, hm? do you plan to offer them a dowry in exchange for my hand in marriage?â
deflecting an undesirable situation was a specialty of his in most cases - those of which generally didnât involve you. unfortunately for him, you had become rather proficient in the vernacular and signs of dazai-ese, and can easily tell what heâs trying to do. even so, nothing about your tone nor body language indicated anything forceful ; rather, it was similar to as if you had questioned him about dinner plans or that one faulty fire hydrant near your house.
âobviously not, dumbass,â you snorted, scrolling on your phone for a bit before finishing the thought, âi was just curious. neither of us ever talk about it.â those words struck yet another horrible truth in dazaiâs mind - that despite how much he desired as such, he did not know every last detail about you, every thought that ran through your head, every movement you would make before your body reacted. he was well aware he had never heard about your family from your own mouth, but the reason as to why hadnât necessarily crossed his mind until this moment. and well, if he were to ask you the same but refuse to answer the question you originally asked, heâd seem a bit too hypocritical.
he finds his way back into the living room where you lay on the couch. you pay him no mind as he sits across from you, gazing at your figure and the simplicity of what you two have shared. it was almost too natural - the progression of acquaintances to friends to whatever exactly was going on now. the word âboyfriendâ had never spilled from your mouth in reference to him, but what else would you call someone that you essentially live and share a bed with every night for months on end? that you get a good morning kiss from when you wake up and give a goodnight kiss to before drifting off? were all the outings you had classified as dates, or just two very close friends hanging out constantly?
dazai disliked not having answers, but he hated the idea of asking you for them even more.
as he watches you relax on the couch, dazai comes to the conclusion that he probably hated you as a whole in some alternate life ; even in this one, had you been unlucky enough to know him 5 years prior. you were so polarizing in the sense that you accepted everything as it came, never tried to fight the reality that had been thrust upon you. whereas dazai had struggled to understand his own humanity, or lack-there-of, you embraced it and never bothered to deny what was truly in front of you. to say he was jealous of you sounded a bit childish in his eyes, but there was certainly something about you he wanted to take and give to himself.
âiâm all ears, my love. tell me about the people who graced me with such an angel as yourself!â he responds in hopes that youâll give in and let him avoid revealing the painstaking truth once more.
you quirk up an eyebrow with a sardonic smile and shake your head, resting back on the arm of the couch. âiâll tell you once you tell me, deal?â
⌠dazai supposes heâll have to live in ignorance about your family for the time being.
187 notes
¡
View notes
Text
This is my Fucking Wedding Day | Tommy Shelby
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader
Request: No
Warnings: Swearing. S/N - Sister's Name, S/H - Sister's Husband, E/C - Eye Colour.
Word Count: 1,272
Tommy Shelby Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Standing in a slip and stockings with her makeup freshly applied, Y/N tells her mother, "I need to see Tommy."Â Â
"You're well aware that you cannot see him right now. It is unlucky for the groom to see his bride in her wedding gown before she walks down the aisle," Her mother makes her objections known. Â
"Have you forgotten who Tommy is?" She inquires while casting a wary gaze at her mother. "That man creates his own bad luck; he doesn't need a ridiculous superstition to create it for him. And also, I won't be wearing my wedding gown."Â Â
"And you still want to marry him? I thought he was a gypsy. Doesn't he believe in such 'ridiculous' superstitions?"Â Â
"You wouldn't need to ask that question if you actually took the time to get to know him," Y/N scolds her. She stops her seamstress from bringing her gown to her, asking for her silk robe instead. Â
Her mother has never been accepting of Tommy, and her entire family disapproves of the Birmingham gangster, who will soon become her husband. Her mother and father have no trouble reminding her that Tommy isn't good enough for her, that all he brings is trouble and death, and that she'll be the next to perish, whether it's by his hands or by an enemy that he's enraged. However, despite what others say and have said, she has continued her relationship with the man she loves so deeply. Â
She acknowledges that Thomas Shelby isn't a flawless man, but she also believes that he has wonderful qualities and those qualities have led her to fall so in love with him. Â
Her father and siblings despise Tommy so much that they refused to attend her wedding. Its broke Y/N's heart when they couldn't even pretend to be happy for her. At least her mother was trying to try for her. Her mother knew she would feel regret and shame for missing her youngest daughter's most important day. Not to mention, she doesn't want to appear prejudiced. The older woman also wed a man that her family didn't approve. Â
She defends Tommy and their relationship by saying, "I know he's not perfect like S/N's husband, but I am in love with Tommy, and he loves me."Â Â
The fact that her sister had become pregnant with Andrew, her oldest nephew, after only knowing her husband for two months made it clear why she had wed him. S/H, her husband, is a renowned attorney who is adored by everyone and well regarded in his legal community. Their marriage was good, and they made it work but the only love they shared was the mutual love they had for their children they had together when they tried to make it work, romantically. Â
"Now, could you kindly hand me my robe?" she asks, growing irritated with her mother's constant putting down of her soon-to-be husband. The seamstress brought the silk robe to Y/N's mother who handed it to her with a disapproving glare. Â
There are times when Y/N's mother regrets being as headstrong and stubborn as she is since now, she has a daughter who is just like her. As a child, Y/N was always the one who resembled her the most since she was independent, headstrong, outspoken and free-spirited. Y/N carried some of those characteristics into adulthood. Those same characteristics helped her to tame her Peaky Blinder lover. Â
Y/N pulls on her robe and ties the sash around her waist. Â
"Your hair still has to be done," her mother calls after her as she walks toward the door. Â
"I'll be back in a moment," She exits the room with a elegant boldness in her step and makes her way to the section of the church where Tommy, his brothers and the rest of his wedding party will be. Â
Y/N is just about to knock on the door when Tommy's voice can be heard quite clearly above the others. Â
"This is my fucking wedding day! I want you all to be on your best fucking behavior. My bride deserves to have her special day not ruined by anyone, including you lot. If anyone causes any fucking trouble, you will escort them as discreetly as possible out of the building and off the property. Gentlemen, this is not the day for violence. It is a day for celebration. If any of you start fighting, I'll fucking kill you myself. Do you understand what I am saying?"Â Â
Tommy's speech is followed by a chorus of "yes boss."Â Â
She knocks on the door and stands outside the room until someone opens it. She doesn't want to make a spectacle or grab anybody's attention by just being in her robe and a slip. She beams when she sees Finn, who has a surprised expression on his face when he realizes it's his soon-to-be sister-in-law. The youngest Shelby brother is by far her favourite among her in-laws, but she wouldn't admit it to anybody but Tommy. Though he aspires to be just like his brothers, he has never lost the innocence he's carried right through his childhood.  Â
"Miss Y/L/N, you're not supposed to be here."Â Â
"I am aware, but I need to speak with Tommy. It won't take long, I swear" she promises the teenager. "Would you kindly get him for me?"Â Â
"I can't say no to you, can I?" He chuckles softly and closes the door. Â
A few seconds later, Tommy rushes out the door, a worried look on his handsome face. He stops in front of her and reaches for her waist. "Is everything all right?"Â Â
She responds smiling, placing her hand on his face, softly caressing his cheek with her thumb as she looks into his breathtakingly gorgeous blue eyes, which had captured her interest since she first saw him in London three years ago.  Â
"Everything is perfect, Thomas, but there is something I need to tell you. I've been trying since yesterday morning, but we haven't had a moment alone to ourselves."Â Â
"We're alone now, so what is it?" His voice is gentle and soothing. Â
She takes one of his hands from around her waist and moves it toward her lower abdomen. "I learned that the illness I've been experiencing is not just pre-wedding nerves. I saw the doctor the day before yesterday after Polly made a remark about my body changing. Tommy, I'm pregnant."Â Â
"You're pregnant?" His eyes widen in astonishment, yet his lips have a trace of a smile. "You're pregnant!"Â Â
He continues to smile from ear to ear as he ends the kiss. "It's fortunate that our wedding is today. It's one less thing we have to worry about before the baby arrives."Â Â
She looks at him with such affection in her E/C eyes that she lets out a soft giggle at what he said. "I love you, Mr. Shelby."Â Â
"I love you as well, Mrs. Shelby," He responds leaning in to kiss her again. Â
She leans in close to his lips and murmurs, "I'm not Mrs. Shelby quite yet."Â Â
"It's just a matter of time," he replies before pressing his lips against hers and kissing her passionately, wanting nothing more than for their wedding to begin so she may become Mrs. Thomas Shelby. Â
"Oi, you two leave it for the honeymoon, yeah?" Arthur's gruff voice broke the almost newlyweds apart. "Now Miss Y/L/N, I don't mean to sound rude, but you best be off to finish getting ready."Â Â
"I'm on my way," she tells the oldest Shelby brother as she steps back from Thomas and leaves to go back to her chamber, leaving the two brothers to finish getting ready themselves.Â
#acewritesfics repost#peaky blinders#peaky blinders x reader#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby#tommy shelby
296 notes
¡
View notes
Text
đđđđđ đđ đđđđđđđ | Lucien Flores x reader
â other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi
summary | this is for @iamasaddie's kinky may writing challenge, a mix of a kink i haven't tried writing before and character i adore dearly but know next to nothing about. this was really fun to try out and my first fic back in almost four months, cheers to finally being back ig? may we christen it with smut.
content warning | heavy smut, literally pwp (there's some backstory if you squint), sensory deprivation, safe words, some food consumption as foreplay, some bodily fluid exchange/consumption, gags/restraints/ect and all that good stuff, oral (m/f receiving), p in v unprotected sex, established relationship, lucien is still a relatively blank character so none of this is canon (just how my silly little brain likes to imagine him rn)
word count â 4.7k
The rain is quiet against the apartment window, a soft and slow pattering that matches the slow beat of your heart. You canât see it, not in your current position as Lucien leans his knee into the mattress behind you and the bed dips, warm fingertips brushing over your cheeks and the shell of your ear as he carefully and methodically secures the blindfold in place with a knot that feels secure. He brushes his fingertip over your nose as he nitpicks and mumbles something under his breath, fixing the black material until your vision is completely hindered.
âPrincesa,â His voice is a soft caress, âeverything alright?â
Constant check-ins, reassurances, comfortability and securityâit was all you felt with Lucien. Things had clicked with him so easily. It made your heart drop into your stomach with the first realization, unlucky with love to a fault that never let up. He had eyes on you from the moment you first met and they never drifted.
A mid-life crisis. You were younger, a subordinate under his wife, and unattainable by most standards and rules. Fetching coffees, keeping Rose on schedule and reminding her of all the never-ending events she kept yes-ingâLucien and her had long been divorced but a chance encounter at an industry mixer had landed you here. A routine youâve both upheld for the last six months and it felt real. You had solid ground to stand on with Lucien and he never diminished how you were feeling, even if you felt so embarrassingly naive about things.
And the sex had never steadily climbed and crescendoedâLucien liked to ravish and devour in a way that had you holding your breath and helped him realize very quickly how overwhelmed you could get. It wasnât necessarily bad, but there was too much outside distractionâhim, the droning buzz of traffic outside of his apartment, the distant muffled television a room away that Lucien always forgot to turn off before settling down for the evening with you.Â
You needed focus, groundingâgiven Lucienâs illustrious history and Hollywood rumors and all the things youâve heard from around town and within the social networks you shared, he seemed like the furthest thing from a good choice.
But, the care and attention he showed you drowned it out entirely.Â
Hell, he gave you a key to his apartment within a month and youâve never seen anyone else visit himâhe doesnât host parties here, he doesnât even let his ex-wife set foot past the threshold. It was your own little sanctuary.
You lift the blindfold slightly and ruin the work heâd done to get it just how he wanted, but he doesnât seem to care.
âHmm?â Heâs got an eyebrow half-raise, features relaxed but masking an obvious worry that he didnât want to harp about. âYeah, yeah. Iâm good.â
Lucien tilts his head, âHow good?â
Just good. Kinda good. Iâm only telling you Iâm good so you donât worry about me.
His thumb rubs at your chin and the thoughts float away and you allow yourself to live in the moment, reaping in the undivided attention this man showed you.
âReally good.â You reply salaciously, using the angle to your advantage as he towered over you on the bed, foot dragging along the inside of his thigh and pressing into the back of it until he lost his footing and slipped further into the deep pockets of the comforter. âBetter if you start touching me like you kept promising over dinner.â
âEager today?â Lucien teases as he crawls until heâs found his way between your legs, resting on his outstretched palm as he fixes your blindfold and darkness floods your senses again.
âGame recognizes game.â You retort, allow Lucien to use a guiding hand to settle you against the plush headboard, buttons pulling in on the fanned, velvet material. âI really need this today.â
Thereâs a soft shuffling and the familiar clink of expensive jewelry scattering against the bedside tableâit was the forewarning that Lucien was prepared to make a mess of you, hammering that final nail in the coffin as he drags three fingers in a harmonious unison over your clothed pussy, the thin shirt you were wearing rubbing against the inside of his forearm as he applies just enough pressure to have you chasing after it when it fades away.
âI know, baby.â His voice drips like a warm honey, sticking to your skin and making you sweat. âSay your word.â
âLuce, we do this every time. I know it, weâre good.â
Silence lingered and you cleared your throat, the dip of pressure in the mattress between your legs from his hand, not allowing himself to touch you until you repeated it back to him.
You nod, âPeach.â
The small tick of a fond memory shows on his face, lips curling up at one side. It happens every time and Lucien knows it was meant as a playful jab in the beginning, but it quickly became something so sacred.Â
You've only used it once and never out of fear or miscommunicationâLucien understood your limits and liked to push when you agreed, but one too many orgasms by his tongue as he buried his head between your thighs had eventually became too much and it was said through a shaky laugh, yanking at his curls until he surfaced.
Lucien, almost instantly, is thereâmouth pressed against the barrier of your underwear, fingers curling around your thighs and spreading you apart with ample pressure, exploring your skin like uncharted territory, a new exploration. Like he hadnât been going down on you for the last several months and already mapped out every inch of your body, knew all the shortcuts and quick routes.
The wetness soaked your underwear, the fleshy fat of his tongue rubbing hot and lapping at the heady taste of your arousal with a sigh before his fingers curl around the edges of your underwear where they cling to your hips, moving them down your legs and suddenly, despite being surrounded by darkness, the feeling of exposure is still daunting. Every time.Â
âTell me about your day.â
Then heâs licking a slow stripe down your center and youâre curling at the sudden touch, but quickly relaxing as he settles in, letting your fingers rest back in his soft curls, using your other senses while they are still available. Your mind wanders and wonders, thinking about the expertise and dexterity of his tongue. How if he really wanted you to come, he would have you there in less than a minute, but he was going easy.
âBoring,â Is all you have, âMost of the same.â
Heâs just trying to fill the air, giving you a solid distraction outside of his filthy mouth. Itâs not exactly his aim to bring up work during sex, especially when itâs in relation to his ex-wife.
âAnd dinner? How was it?â
Lucien purposefully flicks his tongue over your clit and you gasp softly, tugging at the strands of hair under your fingertips and you feel a hand rub at your lower back as it arches, a tender touch that you give into.
âPerfect,â Itâs the truth, eternally grateful for his choice of personal chefs, because as much as you adored Lucien, he was not to be let into a kitchen, âdelicious, as always.â
Lucien groans, deep and low against your pussy as his mouth sucks greedily at you, feeling his fingers inching closer and closer to your core, like heâs trying to take things slow for now, but the impatience is winning out. Theyâre tight at the apex of your thighs currently and just bordering on discomfort when he squeezes every time you moan or sigh or make even the smallest reaction to his mouth.
âR-right there,â You direct, canting your hips up despite his strong grip, âfuck, justâyeah, right there.â Lucien has always responded well, course-correction and sensing the way your body pulls him in, thighs squeezing around him as he dips a finger inside of you in time with his tongue, working you over mercilessly.
The lack of sight is making everything that more intense, searching for something to ground you, using your grip in Lucienâs hair, your other hand placed over his where itâs curled around your thigh as an anchor, feeling him speak against your cunt, filthy words you canât quite catch but if you could see him, he would be sporting a shit-eating grin.Â
The heat in your stomach coils, feeling the sensation down your spine as you whimper, one final swipe of his tongue over your clit within the immense build up of tension has you brokenly moaning out, âComeâfuck, Iâm c-coming, Luce.â
Lucien laps at your greedily, prying your thighs apart forcefully.
âShitââ His voice encourages, ââsuch a sweet fuckinâ pussy. Makes me fuckinâ crazy. Need you to taste it, baby.â
Heâs already moving up your body as your lips part, your tongue dipping blindly into his mouth and tasting the headiness of you on his tongue, a sweet tang that isnât unwelcomed. You donât often make it a habit to kiss him after heâs gone down on youâheâs often messy, face a mix of saliva and you, smeared all over his chin, but the frenzy in his voice is hard to deny, giggling softly into his mouth as your teeth graze his bottom lip.
Youâre still effectively blind, rubbing your palm over the inseam of his silk lounge pants, pulling at the delicate string that was struggling, tight against the length of his cock. Lucien grunts into your neck at the touch and widens his knees against the mattress, biting playful at your skin to soothe it moments later. His hands rub at your weak thighs, still shaking post-orgasm and you canât help but be eager despite how much energy Lucien had worked out of you.
âSit up,â You pointedly squeeze at his shaft and lean up, feeling the movement of his body follow. ââmy turn.â
Lucien huffs in amusement, shuffling back on his knees as you sit upright. You reach for your blindfold but his hand engulfs your own, âNot yet.â He orders calmly.
You relinquish control to his guidance and sit on your calves as he places your hands flat against his bare chest, just above the softness of his stomach, feeling his heartbeat under your palms. âLike this.â
âBut, I want to see you for this.â Itâs nearly a beg, more of a test to see how easy he gives into your wants, but he chuckles in response and taps at your chin once. So, that was a no.
Despite how quickly he got off from a single look, his cock stuffed into your mouth and his hand gripping hard at the root of your scalpâmaybe he was actually doing himself a favor.
Your shoulders slump slightly, barely noticeable but you smile and trail your fingertips down his abdomen, featherlight as the muscle flexes underneath your touch and they hover around the hem of pants as you lean forward and aim to press a kiss to his sternum, his chest, down and down until you feel your lips brush against the waistband.
âTake it out,â He encourages, âwanna watch you.â
You pull at the waistband with your teeth playfully, curious of just how quickly you're driving Lucien up the wall with the way you're acting, the material catching over his stiff, hard cock and allowing your hands to help you get them the rest of the way down.Â
Lucien is kind enough to be a guiding hand, thumb pressed against the side of your jaw as he guides you forward, feeding the head of his cock past your lips, tongue dragging along the tip and under, the brush of foreskin like soft, warm velvet.
And you have him in the palm of your hand like this, despite how helpless you must look. It only takes a few minutes before Lucien is louder, mouthier with his words and harsh with his matching thrusts into your mouth.
Frustrated, Lucien pulls at the knot on your blindfold hastily, the soft grunts of his impending orgasm loud in your ears, feeling so starved of sight that when the blindfold falls away and your eyes open and youâre overwhelmed with light, ignoring the fact that Lucienâs cock was nearly pressing against the back of your throat.
But, itâs quickly nulled out by Lucien, towering over you and blocking most of the harsh fluorescence that drown out the room around you, eyes falling close again despite being free of the blindfold as you take him until your nose is pressing against his groin, the fingers resting at the back of your neck squeezing harshly.
Selfishly, he wants to keep you here for a while longer. A few minutes, a few hours.
âRelajate,â Lucien forces out, his mouth hanging open on the word as you pull away, now wide-eyed and wiping away the string of spit that connects you to him, âthereâs no rush.â
You smirk at his words, grinning up at him before you lick at the head of his cock, wrapping your hand around his shaft as you respond, âFor you, maybe. But, I want you to fuck me.â
Lucienâs fingers dance along the shell of your ear, drifting down the column of your neck until his palm covers the expanse of it before gripping firmly, a soft gasp ripping from your throat as he forces you to straighten, leaning down into your space.
âSlow, princesa,â Lucien demands, âOr youâll regret it later.â
As if that didnât already intrigue you enough, you nod subtly and return his mischievous grin.
Slow is what you give him, long strokes as you circle your tongue around the head of his cock, occasionally dipping your head down to lick the underside of his shaft, too dangerously close to his balls, taut from how obviously he was straining to hold off, his usually perfectly quaffed hair sticking to his forehead and every which way.
There is no wonderingâyou could do this all day if you wanted, bringing him right to the edge but never quite falling, like he enjoyed doing to you, a shared pastime youâve explored a few times but clearly not enoughâbecause eventually you just get impatient.
Thankfully he seems to understand, nodding as your lips hover near his cock, playful kisses pressed against his pubic bone and scattered around until you finally decide to swallow him down, a few minutes later and heâs coming down your throat, eyes watering at the force but his eyes are locked on your own and you swallow on instinct, taking a sharp breath when he finally pulls back, seemingly just as wrecked as you were a half hour ago as he slumps into the bed, landing on back beside you, his hand rubbing over your knee tenderly.
âAre you up for a snack?âÂ
You look at him quizzically, bemused at his question.
âIs that code?â You tease, fingers scratching at his overgrown stubble beard, âShould I be worried?â
âNo, Iâm hungry,â Lucien laughs gruffly, groaning as he turns on his side and slips off the bed, walking naked to the door and out of the room casually, coming back into the room with a sizeable plate of cut fruit and you grin, his heel forcing the door closed behind him. âSee?â
He offers the plate up as proof as he sets it at the bedside table, though his fingers linger near the closed drawer a few centimeters beneath it. And you know where things are heading, the routine isnât always the same, but Lucien liked to cover most, if not all the bases on nights where he was really needing the distraction. It seemed to be one of those nights, watching as his fingers dipped inside the drawer to grab the wrist restraints that hooked to the center of his headboard, a soft material that helped with comfort but made it damn near impossible to slip out if you really wanted to while your hands were hooked up.
But, thatâs what Lucien wanted. The ability to trust that he would know your limits or that you would trust him enough to react to the safe word if you ever, for any reason, needed to use it.
âOhââ Your gaze lingers and Lucien rubs the material in his hands.
âThis alright?â He wonders, though the glint in your eye is enough of an answer.
You laugh softly through your nose and take the binding in his hand, slipping your wrist through the loops, leisurely scooting back until you hit the headboard, raising your arms above your head, âYou tell me?â
Lucien chews absently at his bottom lip as he takes a rogue bite out of one of the strawberries on the plate before leaning onto his knee against the mattress, securing the restraint into place. A small latch that was also accessible to you if needed. He leans down quickly and youâre unprepared for the suddenness of it but he presses against you in a slow, sloppy kiss that leaves you chasing after the sweet juice that lingered in his mouth, mixed with the glass of malt whiskey heâd had earlier.
âBlindfold too?â You ask curiously.
Lucien shakes his head distractedly and takes his seat beside you on the bed, facing in the opposite direction so youâre both facing each other. The lack of clothing should feel distracting, but youâre too focused on his face, watching as he carefully bunches up the leaves on a strawberry and presses it to your lips, tongue curling around it and biting into it with a soft crunch.
âWhatâs with the food?â You ask with a slightly furrowed brow, food stuffed in your cheek as you chew, âNot that Iâm complaining butâŚthis isâŚâ
âBaby, relax,â He notices the tensing of the muscles in your forearm, nodding in the general directionâyou hadnât realized how hard you were curling your hands into fists until he pointed it out, ââremember the new assistant I hired?â
Another bite and the strawberry is done for, Lucienâs finger following as he wipes away the mess of juice around your bottom lip, savoring it for himself as he presses his thumb against his thumb and sucks and if he sees the way your thighs inch together, he doesnât say anything.Â
You hum in acknowledgment and chew at the fruit, remembering the fresh-faced and terrified young man who Lucien had given a shot to after firing his old assistantâthe embezzling funds was a problem, but he also insisted that he needed a fresh start, but you didnât think he meant that fresh.
âI was craving it,â Lucien shrugged, âHe went and picked up a bunch of shit.â
âCraving it,â You mince the words and Lucien chuckles, noticing your pointed gaze, ââfor a sex thing, clearly.â
Caught. Sort of.Â
Lucien was big on trying new thingsâit was harmless, but the way he had tore into a peach during the picnic luncheon at for the acting agency both he and Rose worked under, eyes locked on you as he split it in half and shared the other half with you, less than careful about the way he cleaned up the juices on himself and you, finding yourself unexpectedly drooling over him in one of your less than finest moments. It was either the delicious fruit or an oral fixation. Maybe both.Â
He shoved a slice of kiwi between his teeth and leaned forward, pressing the fruit into your mouth and following with his tongue, devouring you into a kiss that has you whining quietly into his mouth, pulling away as you leaned forward to chase after him, chewing at the fruit in annoyance as you slumped back.
âPlay nice, princesa.â Lucien teases.
âI am,â You retort with a sharp bite in your town, âyou are making me wait.â
Lucien takes the ringlet slice of pineapple and squeezes it over your bare chest, down the valley of your breasts and you gasp at the sudden change in temperature against your hot to the touch skin, eyes snapping to the liquid traveling to your belly button.
âLucien!âÂ
You shriek, watching as he tossed the mangled fruit aside and made his ascent, licking from your belly button to the junction of your neck in one go, hovering over you with a devilish smile.
âIf you donât fuck me right nowââ You gritted through clenched teeth and he presses his forehead against your own, giving you nowhere to hide as he stares you down, âI swear to god, Luceââ
âYou trust me, right?â
âStupid question,â You retort, nudging him back with your nose, âof course.â
Lucien hides the bemused expression on his face as he looks away, leaning over the side of the bed for a couple items that are out of your line of sight but quickly come into view as he lays them against your stomach, his thighs slotted underneath your own, taut muscle rubbing against your skin.
âThought we could,â He separates them out carefully along your abdomen, âtry a few at once.â
A gagâfamiliar and frequently used, black leather around a silicone black ball. A different blindfold, more like a sleep maskâit looked like Lucienâs sleep mask, actually. He could use the traditional one he tends to stick with but it seems heâs aiming for comfort here, fingers tracing along the last item with a raised brow.
âEar buds? Really, Lucien? Headphones?â You giggle softly, âYou want me to listen to music while weââ
âNo, noââ Your laughter is infectious and he chuckles too, âbaby, theyâre just noise canceling.â
âOh?â Your wrist yanks in interest before you realize youâre still restrained.
âIf itâs too much, we donât have to.â Lucien is very clear about that, fingertips pressed into the sheets beside your hips.Â
âYou really like when I give over control, donât you?â You tease playfully.
âComo siempre.â He says softly before leaning down to nip at your breasts, eyes flicking up at you.
âOkay, yes. Butââ You look up at your hands, bound but not uncomfortable, âmaybe no blindfold. Iâll keep my eyes closed but I want to see you. I like being able to see you.â
Lucien nods in agreement, a slow and treatours pace he takes as he retreats, tongue dragging down the center of your body and still tasting slightly of citrus. He smirks at your obvious squirming before doing away with the blindfold and allowing himself to get everything else in order.
The gag comes first, a small muffled grunt as he tightens the strap around the back of your head, adjusting it until you give him a solid nod. It helped that despite your inability to communicate verbally that Lucien had created a way for you to rid yourself of your wrist restraints whenever everything felt a little too much but you werenât worried about using your safe word, a small latch connected to the metal chain that linked you to the headboard, easily accessible. And then the headphones, an odd experience to say the leastâyou canât imagine what kind of money Lucien wasted on these because they immediately drown out all noise, the small buds resting in your ears and relatively out of sight.
It feels ridiculous, but when Lucien speaks and you canât hear, your heart races with an anticipation youâve never felt before. Exhilaration, more like.
You have no other choice than to watchâwatch as Lucien settles comfortably back, kneeling as he runs his fingers along the underside of his cock and down to his balls, cupping them and rolling them around leisurely, your eyes watching every single movement, teeth baring down gently around the ball as he fists him, fingers dragging over his shaft and working himself up quickly, his chest slightly flushed from a mix of your previous activities and now, his eyes never settling on one piece of your body for too long.
You communicate through nods and eye contact, feelings incredibly vulnerable in the moment, watching as Lucien pressed himself inside of you with slow intention and you swear you can hear the deep exhale he forces out through his nose as it flares before he settles and gives you no time at all to prepare, a small gasp escaping you as your finger tighten around the slack in the strap connection your wrist cuffs to the bed, a slow but deep snap of his hips that shatters your focus, back arching into his touch as his fingers run along your spine and dig in, gripping you tight, practically sitting in his lap with the angle he has you held at.
âMi vida,â He sighs, knowing you canât hear him, âmi vida, mi vida, mi vida,â growing quiet with every utterance of it, âtoo perfect for me, baby.â
The vibration of his voice is pressed against your collarbone, his nose dragging along the junction of your neck and youâre so curious of what heâs saying, but you try not to let your mind wanderânot that he allows much of that, gradually switching the pace to something stronger.
You wished you were stronger than Lucien liked to give you credit for, but you do find that your impatience eats away at you, coming in short whines and pleading looks and Lucien catches your gaze, eyes soft and watery.Â
Heâs breathing out in short grunts through his mouth and you can see his nose scrunch up as he groans, fingers digging into your skin, squeezing tight at your hipsâyou canât do it anymore, reaching your fingers up to grasp at the latch keeping your arms hoisted up, falling back in a heap with Lucien pressed against your chest, hastily slipping your hands out of the binding.
Lucien catches on quickly, working the gag off and tossing it aside, hearing it clink heavily against a nearby object but neither of you bother looking and quickly discarding the headphones on the nightstand, his forearms coming around your head to barricade you in.
Youâve never felt more safe.
âPobrecita, come on,â Lucien coos, âask for it, yeah? You want me to touch you?â Lucien moans heavily against your skin, your own hands twisting it his hair, fingers curling gently around the back of his ears, âWant me to make you come with my cock inside you? Is that what you need?â
âYes,â You whine softly, âtouch meâplease, just touch me.â
He doesnât move quick enough, finding that your hand quickly searches for his own, pressing it between your bodies and his fingers know you, working like muscle memory as he circles your clit a combination of his middle and ring and itâs nearly instantaneous, a mix of built up tension and desperate need for release. Your fingers pinch at the skin of his neck as you come, pulling the hair at the nape of neck and breathing in a sharp gasp, mouth hung open in silence as your eyes squeeze shut.
âThatâs it, baby.â Lucien breathes quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to your breast as you come, eventually finding your lips and kissing you thoroughly, silencing your weak moans, chest heaving deeply in the aftermath as he pulls back, nothing heâs on the edge himself.
âI want you in my mouth again,â You sound desperate, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze from where he towers over you, fists gripping the sheets, âwanna taste us together, baby.â
Lucien rises suddenly, one palm pressed against the headboard as he grips his cock with the other, quickly spilling over your stomach, a sigh punches from his chest as he comes down, flush with a slight embarrassment at how easily it was for you to work him up.
âOr not,â You say through a tired laugh, soft and airy, âtoo much?â
âNever.â Lucien assures, brow furrowing in amusement as he drags a finger through the mess he made, bringing it to your mouth and allowing you to suck, lick, and make an over the top and unnecessary show as you swallow his cum and Lucien feels his cock twitch between his legs, despite how tired his body felt.Â
âJesus, princesa,â He laughs, ââgreedy tonight?â
You mirror his actions, bringing your own finger into the mess before pressing it into his mouthâand Lucien opens with a lust-drunk grin, capturing your wrist in a tight grip and licking off his own spend from your finger.
âAbsolutely.â
And thank god, because your night was far from over.
â beta: @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin
â divider credit: yours truly.
#lucien flores x reader#lucien flores x you#lucien flores x y/n#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal smut#my writing#little lady kinky may#lucien flores#pedro pascal
233 notes
¡
View notes
Note
hi its đ anon, can I request comfort with Gaming, Bennett, Scaramouche, Cyno, and Tighnari?
I accidentally hurt my cat's leg maybe like 20 minutes ago from when this is in your inbox but I've honestly just been crying and curling up on the ground where she's laying underneath my desk. I feel awful even though it's an accident âšď¸
I'm hoping she's okay and it's not bad but I'm scared I permanently gave her a limp or that she will hate me and no longer want to be around me anymore
multiple characters headcannons!
you accidentally hurt your pet.
characters: gaming, bennett, wanderer, cyno, tighnari x gn!reader
author's note: hi đanon i'm sorry i'm doing this req so late but writer's block is there for some reasonđ¤ˇââď¸ I HOPE YOUR CAT IS OKAY NOW THO AND THAT SHE STILL LOVES YOU IK HOW IT ISđ anyways i decided to write this cuz i was bored lmfao enjoyyyyđĽđĽ
⥠Gaming
-definetly gets worried after he sees you on the ground crying like that.
-"no... my love, what's wrong? you can talk to me, okay?"
-all while the pet was in the corner of the room, unphased.
-if left the room soon enough, but that was unnoticed by gaming.
-after you did your best at explaining the situation to him, he understood what you meant.
-a bit confused as to why were you thag worried about it, but he reassured you that your pet was fine and that they most probably forgive you.
-he's going to cuddle the pet with you to help you "apologize" to it.
-with gaming there, your pet will forget about what happened and just cuddle with the two of you there like nothing ever happened<3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
â
Bennett
-now, he's hurt a fair share of animals in his life due to his unluckiness.
-and he always feels really bad for them afterwards, so he would understand after you vent to him about it.
-"hmm... yeah... i get it.."
-but him, knowing that you're not as unlucky as he is, he reassures you that your pet is okay and still loves you.
-he'll prove it to you too.
-but first he would first make you take your mind off of it for a bit.
-and then feed the pet together as some parents to their 3yo child.
-now, speaking of him proving it to you, he'll just let you pet it and let it slowly lean into your gentle caressing of it.
-the only time he was lucky in his life was when he got to be with you.
-you just looked to precious being happy that your pet has forgiven you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
⧠Wanderer
-he just doesn't get it.
-why the hell are you rolling on the floor, crying, because you THINK you hurt your pet?
-"but are you sure you've actually hurt it? y'know, if you actually did, then its anger is justified-"
-until you started crying more.
-"b-but you probably didn't. so don't worry. you'll be fine, just like that like creature you call your pet."
-i mean you stopped crying so it was something????
-you'll have to beg him to cuddle you w your pet but eventually you'll convince him.
-the funny part was the fact that the pet was just more fond of wanderer, rather than you, despite forgiving you for anything and everything.
-for some unknown reasons, all animals like him, really.
-(if your pet is an aranara in some type of this teyvat au then it's even cuter)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
ŕš Cyno
-he doesn't react much, really.
-not like alhaitham, but just more of his canon personality when he's not making dad jokes.
-i mean if anything, he's confused, but yeah.
-he just stares you on the floor.
-"what happened?"
-in the most monotone voice ever.
-and then after he understands why you're doing all of that, he shows a bit more of emotion.
-hardly spotted, but it's there.
-"well... i know something that can improve your mood. what do you call a-"
-you just give him a death stare. he doesn't continue speaking from there.
-afterwards, you'll feel the little cutie together and see that it's totally fine!
-you will get to hear the joke he was meaning to say sometime later, now he just doesn't wanna irritate you, he feels as if you need happiness now, not his dumb dad jokes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
âżâ Â Tighnari
-he genuinely gets worried.
-but worried in a mom way.
-"you're crying because of something you THINK? are you hearing yourself right now?"
-he's sassy, even when genuinely concerned.
-now, after telling you to take a few deep breaths, calm down, and drink a glass of water, he sits you down and lets you explain everything in great detail.
-then he brings the pet to the both of you, while he checks the pet for any scars, but they fortunately aren't there!
-you get incredibly happy and hug both tighnari and the pet, but he still doesn't understand if ut was worth the crying on the floor.
-your pet literally still loved you.
-but at least he was happy to help.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
okay i think this wasn't that bad
i really like cyno's and tighnari's tho
but this was fun to write overall tbh lol
| đanon | @mariaace <3
#genshin#genshin impact#genshin headcanons#genshin impact headcanons#genshin imagines#genshin fluff#gaming x reader#gaming x you#tighnari x you#tighnari x reader#bennett x reader#bennett x you#cyno x reader#cyno x you#wanderer x you#wanderer x reader#scaramouche x you#scaramouche x reader#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin comfort#gaming comfort#wanderer comfort#scaramouche comfort#cyno comfort#tighnari comfort#bennett comfort#¡ nyx's genshin hcs *â .â â§
262 notes
¡
View notes