#like she is so fucking kind and forgiving and patient

[zellk]

I'm in love with Aamira ❤️❤️🙏 can you give us more info about her? Some fun and maybe not so fun facts about her?

Hi Anon ! Thank you for your kind words and for your interest \o/ Aamira's side of the family is the one that Qalaa got her "Beast Curse" from. It's a bloodline hereditary curse that boosts the strength of those in good health (like Qalaari) and eats away at those that have a weak constitution... like Aamira. "Weak" members of the family are usually cast aside or cast out. Aamira ; while still quite young, 16 or so ; ran away from all of this to try to live her life following only her will and enjoy as much of it as possible. Even without the curse Aamira would have had a weak health, but think of it as her Beast basically making her immunodeficient and weaker and weaker as the years go by.

She managed to make a little life for herself in a small unremarkable place close to one of the older forest of the region. There she developed close ties with two siblings, Temhos & Olgha. Both of them members of a tribe that lives deep deep withing the old woods who come to visit the village semi frequently to trade goods and buy things to carry back where they live. Both siblings tried to court Aamira (after months of good relationship), and, eventually, Aamira chose Temhos. For two or three years things were pretty idyllic fro all of them. But then Aamira started talking about wanting a child... Temhos tried to reason with her that with her health it was really fucking dangerous for her to try and that her chances of not making it through were too high for his tastes... Aamira pretended to listen but actually didn't and things got really bad when Temhos found out she was pregnant. They argued, Aamira's health took a downside, Temhos took care of her until she got better again (and Aamira, with her rose-tinted delusional glasses, thought it meant he'd stay). When Aamira was around 7 month pregnant Temhos ran away (very very far away). It broke her heart but not her (by now frantic) determination to see her pregnancy though. She (somehow) found her away again to Temhos' village where she was taken in by Olgha (who was very confused, then very angry (at both Aamira & Temhos), then very panicked). Qalaari was born in this village. Olgha became her surrogate parent to help Aamira raise her (she was still in love with Aamira, but knew that her heart, broken as it was, would still never be hers... I think Aamira knew Olgha's feelings too and could only just be very thankful she still helped her raise Qalaari, despite how painful it must have been for her.) Aamira was very loving with her daughter, but her (now very bad) health and broken heart left her with long dissociative episodes, on top of moments where she wouldn't even managed to get out of bed. That's when Olgha would take care of Qalaari most (frustrated and heartbroken as she was over the whole situation, Olgha genuinely loves Qalaari like her own daughter.) 12 years after, the Beast finally eroded all of what Aamira was (she was still young... probably around 32 or 34 years old ??) and she passed away. Also, how Aamira survived giving birth is nothing short of a miracle. Most likely due to her will of titanium to meet and raise her daughter... Eventually the Beast got the best of her, but she managed to hold on for 12 more years !!

[shotmrmiller]

soulmate au part 1

john price x f!reader

wc: 1.2k

unedited, forgive my mistakes.

since you were born, your world has been grey. you never thought anything of it, until at school, they started teaching you colours. the only ones in the room that could see more than just different shades of grey, apart from the teacher, were identical twins.

weird.

you went home and asked your parents.

"we are born missing half of ourselves. we have a fated one, and when you meet them, your world will look the way it was meant to."

oh. but... "in class, there were twins that could see colour. what about them?"

they look surprised for a second until your dad softly explains. "in rare instances, the soulmate bond will be platonic. which makes sense in this case, because twins grow up with a connection regular people like us will never understand."

you nod and lower your gaze to look at your shoes. you wonder if the person meant for you is interested in junie b. jones books like you are.

-

in high school, you crush on this pretty girl— a cheerleader. her hair is long and beautiful, her face is small and round, and she's so kind. just your type.

but no colour stains your vision, so you burrow your emotions deep and mourn the loss of what could've been.

-

in college, one of your friends ask you if you've met your soulmate yet.

"no, not yet," you lament. what she says after freezes the blood in your veins.

"my mom knew someone whose soulmate was already dead before they had even been born," she comments while stabbing a grape tomato with her fork. "it was really tragic, because she'll never know what it's like to know a love that has no equal."

your heart is in your throat, and you find it hard to swallow the food in your mouth.

what if your soulmate is already dead? oh, god. you might just throw up. your friend doesn't seem to notice the change in your demeanor and continues to babble carelessly about how she knew someone that knew someone who's soulmate had turned out to be a murderer.

oh my fucking god.

you quickly run to the bathroom and throw up your lunch.

how cruel is the universe? to have no control over who is meant to be for you.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and lean against the stall of the bathroom. you should've known that this soulmate business was too good to be true.

cupping your hands, you rinse the taste of bile out of your mouth before walking back to your friend who stayed in her seat.

"jesus, you look terrible, you alright?" she asks.

running your fingers through your hair, you huff. "i've certainly been better. just got a bit nauseous, nothing serious. maybe it's a stomach bug."

"oooh, you better not be pregnant! what of your dreams of working in the medical field?"

you giggle at her response. "that'd be impossible unless i'm the virgin mary."

she gapes comically then leans in and whispers, "you're lying! don't tell me you haven't dated anyone just because they weren't your soulmate."

you shrug, and keep your eyes fixed on your half-eaten plate of food. "i don't really wanna talk about it, if that's alright with you. besides, you've got bigger things to worry about, like the upcoming exam for mr. richardson."

slapping a hand to her forehead, she exclaims, "oh, shit! i totally forgot! shit!"

you watch her inhale the rest of her salad and toss her trash before waving goodbye and sprinting toward the library.

with a sigh, you look down at your food. grey. lifeless. shaking your head, you pick up your plate and toss it in the bin.

you decide to focus solely on your studies. you have dreams of being a doctor and pining after someone you haven't even met yet would only serve as a distraction.

--

your white coat grazes your calves as you walk toward your new patient. standing outside the room, you pick up the clipboard.

Price, John. 34, Active Military.

he's the head of the task force! god, you've only heard stories of them from the other medics on base who have met them, so to finally come face to face with the man, the myth, the legend? you wipe your clammy hands on the fabric of your scrubs and clear your throat.

be professional, be professional. he's just another patient, it's no big deal.

rapping your knuckles on the door, you wait a second before twisting the knob with a shaky hand. you nervously keep your eyes on the clipboard as you walk in.

"good morning, captain price."

"mornin', doc," he rumbles.

oh, his deep voice just might be the end of you.

"you don't sound all that happy to be here, captain," you tease while flipping through his medical history papers.

he lets out a low chuckle, and you squeeze your thighs together at the sound. delicious.

"nothin' personal, doc. just don't like bein' here, you understand."

lightly laughing at his joke, you finally steel your nerves and look up at him.

only to have your vision bleed in something you don't understand. is that colour? is this what colour looks like?

the clipboard drops, clattering to the floor. john— being the courteous gentleman that he is— quickly kneels to grab it and lifts his head as he hands it to you.

he freezes in place, the clipboard slipping from his hands as he stares at you.

you thickly swallow, and dumbly question, "do you...has your....colour? can you see colour?"

unblinking, john's eyes are fixated on you as he remains silent.

your eyes dart around to take in his features. his brightly-coloured eyes are framed by lines that hint at his age, his strong jaw adorned by a mutton-chop beard. his nose is specked with a beauty mark.

"what colour are your eyes, captain?" you softly ask.

he closes his mouth and takes in a sharp breath. "i've been told they're blue."

"blue," you smile. the eyes of your soulmate are blue.

but then, your delighted smile melts off your face, in horror.

there's a shiny band on his finger. he's married.

john price, your soulmate, is fucking married.

your vision distorts with the tears that threaten to spill and bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. it feels like there are shards of glass in your lungs, cutting you open with each quivering breath you take. your pain is red-hot, searing under your skin, flowing through your veins like molten lead.

john knows exactly what you're looking at.

"love—" he starts but you cut him off swiftly.

"don't. you don't owe me anything, captain. uhm, but uh... maybe it's best that we switch your doctors, yeah? conflict of interest, and all that."

you all but run away, away from that room, from him.

how terribly unlucky.

you head towards your office, which is down the hall, and slam the door closed. only then, do you cry, and mourn what should've been.

[dandelionprints]

Don't Be Late

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N (lil bit of fluff, angst, tormented Tommy and comfort)

Summary: When Tommy makes a promise to his wife he could never imagine that breaking it could potentially cost Y/N her life.

Warnings: bad language, a couple of slur words as used in the show *not words that I myself deem acceptable!*, a lot of violence, mentions of injuries, blood and death. Reader discretion is advised, do not read if you feel uncomfortable with this kind of content

Word Count: This is a long one coming in at 6,800k

A/N: It's been a while since I've written a full blown fic but I was on a roll so I just went with it! I hope you enjoy, please do like, reblog and/or comment your thoughts on it, I really appreciate the feedback x

--------------------------------------------------------

"It's been three days, Pol. Why won't she wake up?"

He leant forwards in his chair, a hand gently grasping  Y/N's as she lay motionless on her hospital bed. Her body was battered with violent purple bruises and cuts covering what seemed to be every inch of her body.

The last three days had been hell, with a mixture of so many emotions running through him  that he didn't know where to put and the not knowing. Worry, anger, sadness. Guilt. So much guilt, it consumed him. 

Tommy wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to forgive himself for not being there to protect her. It could be said that it was a case of "wrong person, wrong time", but that did nothing to subside the sense of dread that filled his stomach whenever he thought about the brutality his wife had been through, all because of him. How scared she must have been on her own waiting for him to come and save her, but he came too late.

"Give her time, Tom. She's been through a lot, her body’s trying to heal, we can't rush these things. Besides, the doctor said this morning that the swelling and bleeding has started to go down so she is getting better. Slowly. We just have to be patient", Aunt Polly delicately placed her hand on his shoulder, softly stroking her thumb back and forth over the newly clean shirt. 

Polly had brought a clean set of clothes to the hospital after seeing that Tommy was too terrifed to leave Y/N at the hospital alone for even a second, leaving him wearing blood soaked clothes for the first day. Y/N's blood.

"I should've been there Pol. None of this would've happened if I hadn't gotten too cocky and dragged John and Arthur down to London to Sabini's club. All this for a fucking business expansion"

He lowered his head and brought his free hand to his forehead, pinching at the sides as if to relieve some of the stress growing with tension there.

"Fuck!", he shouted before quickly covering his face with his hand.

Tommy could feel tears springing to his eyes as he glared down between the gaps in his fingers at the speckled hospital floor. He was so tired of crying in the presence of anyone that wasn't Y/N since the night this whole shit show happened, it made him feel weak knowing other people could see that in fact, yes, Tommy Shelby does have emotions. Y/N  was the only one he'd been able to willingly show any kind of vulnerable emotion to since he'd returned from the war.

The sound of a lighter flicking open followed by the quick sizzle of a cigarette being lit came from behind him as Polly took a drag, before holding it within Tommy's line of vision. 

"Here, take this".

He hesitated for a moment, making sure that no tears would fall, then slowly lifted his head and reached for the now softly glowing cigarette bringing it to his lips and taking a long pull, exhaling the smoke as if it were the stress partially releasing from his body.

Aunt Pol watched him carefully, almost as if she were waiting to see if he was going to explode like a ticking time bomb or finally let his shoulders relax and sink into the chair. She was thankful when he chose the latter, slowly leaning back against the wooden frame, still holding onto Y/N's hand.

"You should go back to the house, Tom. Get some rest. I'll stay with her until you come back", she spoke softly, her own eyes tired from the constant secret worrying she'd been doing as well as sitting with Tommy next to Y/N's bed the last three days.

"No. I won't leave her, Pol. I can't leave her, it's my fault she ended up like this, I can't risk them coming back or the risk of her...", he stopped his words in their tracks as a lump formed in his throat. The tears that had only just subsided now came back, threatening to spill over, "Of her dying. Alone. Without me here letting her know she's safe, that I'm sorry. So fucking sorry"

Polly's face grew empathetic as she saw the pain etched all over Tommy's, the vacant glassiness of his eyes that had only grown darker over the past few days.

"She's not going to die..."

"She might, Pol!", his anger exploded then, the ticking time bomb she'd been waiting for had finally gone off.

The chair scraped on the floor as he stood, letting go of Y/N's hand, before turning to face his aunt who remained seated, not taking her eyes off him.

"How can you be so sure that she's gonna live, eh? How can you be so sure that she's ever going to open her eyes again?"

There was less accusation in his words than it seemed, more like a plead for some kind of reassurance or promise that the love of his life would be okay, that she'd return to the real world again.

Polly stood, then, calm and collected. 

"Because I know Y/N Shelby, and so do you. She's a tough girl, it'll take more than Sabini and the fuckers who did this to take her down. Now, go home and get some sleep. I'll stay here with her, give her a wash and read some of your poetry outloud. The nurses say she can still hear what's going on around her, that she may even end up dreaming of things that are being said so we'll be having no more talk of death. John said he'll take the next shift of watching the door so tell him when you get back to come here. You know he won't let those bastards go anywhere near her if they so much as step foot near the hospital"

Polly’s eyes remained on him like a mother scolding her child until they did what they were told. She knew that he was still reluctatant to leave Y/N's bedside but felt relief when he subtly nodded to her, stubbing out his cigarette and picking up his coat before leaning over Y/N to place a kiss on her head, being careful to avoid the purpling bruise that was forming there.

"I'll be back in two hours, Pol, then you can go home and get some sleep", he said simply, making his way over to the door.

"Not two, six. You need a proper sleep"

He narrowed his eyes at her without saying anything, his lips twitching as if ready to disagree with what his aunt had said.

"I'd say eight but I know you won't be able to stay away for that long. What good are you to her if your eyes can't even focus on what the gun is aiming at? Go. Get some sleep"

Three days earlier

They'd agreed that they would meet at 8pm later that evening, after Tommy finished up with business for the day, where the family car was stored in the garage near the Shelby family home.

"Don't keep me waiting too long", she giggled, stroking his face with the palm of her hand.

"Who says you'll be waiting?", he smiled, taking the hand that was on his cheek and bringing it to his mouth, placing a soft kiss to it.

The Garrison hadn't opened for the day yet but the Peaky Boys were starting to gather at the bar, getting in a pint before the days business was about to begin. John and Arthur were already trying to place a bet with Isaiah about who could down the most pints before blacking out with Arthur claiming it to be him.

"Eh, lads! No more drinking until business is finished for the day, and Arthur, I could place twenty pound on it being anyone but you who could drink the most", Tommy interrupted, leading to a cackle of ladish jeers. 

Y/N laughed before getting Tommy's attention once again, this time placing a finger beneath his chin and gently pulling his face towards hers.

"I know you, Tommy Shelby. You like to be on time when it's for business but business is also what makes you late to see me"

He felt a pang of guilt hit his stomach at her words, he knew she was right. He'd lost count of how many times he'd come home to find her curled up in front of the fire in his office fast asleep. How many times he'd either carried her up to bed or simply placed a blanket over her while he continued working into the early hours of the morning. 

"I promise, love. I'll be at the garage at 8pm sharp"

This time he leant forward and touched his lips to hers, taking in the sweet flavour of her lips that he loved so much.

"Go on, Pol will be waiting for you"

She paused, "Is it bad to say that I don't believe you?"

"I promise, Y/N"

She wanted to believe the sincerity in his eyes but a tiny part of her knew that she'd more than likely be kept waiting out in the cold while he finished up business for the day. 

"Okay", she half smiled, "I love you, Mr. Shelby"

Tommy kissed her then, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear.

"I love you too, Mrs. Shelby"

---

It was already dark by the time she'd made her way to their meeting point with only the glow from a firepit in the workshop opposite as the main source of light, rain flooding down onto the pavement outside in typical autumnal British fashion creating the sound of pattering on the old tin roof of the garage.

Y/N sighed as she leant against the black Ford Model T, taking a look at her watch. 8:03pm. 

'Well, it's only three minutes late, let's see if he's here before four minutes late', she thought to herself. 

There wasn't much to see in the garage other than old petrol can's and some oiled rags that had been dropped lazily on the floor, not that she could see much anyway with only the fire for her source. In fact, it only stretched as far as half the length of the garage, where unbenownsed to her there were men that were lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting victim. 

"Get 'em!"

The sound of a thick London Italian accent echoed through the cold rickety room and all Y/N could think to do was to cower against the car, waiting to be manhandled in some kind of way, the panic instantly settling into her chest.

It was obvious that the men who now had their fists blowing punches to her face didn't have a clue it was in fact a woman they were beating and not a man, probably due to the fact the fire was doing little to show that she'd wrapped her scarf over her head to stop the rain from ruining her curls. They didn't realise until she mustered enough strength through the continuous punches to let out the loudest scream she could.

It was only then that the men took a step back as the same voice from before bellowed out, "Stop!"

She held her hands up to her face and felt a slick warm liquid quickly covering them, the skin beneath it sore to the touch. Her left eye was blurry from the mixture of what she could only assume to be blood and swelling, but she could just about make out the silhoutte of a slim man with a hat standing near the wall.

The adrenaline was already kicking in helping to keep some of the pain from showing it's full potential, but her fight or flight hadn't seemed to of made an appearance yet. All she could do was stand there, frozen to the spot, her hands still holding her bloodied face.

"You must be Tommy Shelby's missus", spoke the man with the hat, taking a step forward confirming in the dim light that it was who she'd feared it would be. Sabini.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?", he smirked, leering towards her only inches from her face, "Apologies for the misunderstanding, we thought you were Mr. Shelby"

Her heart dropped into her stomach at the thought that this beating was meant for Tommy, that she knew they intended to do more than land a few punches to his face. She spat at the ground infront of Sabini's feet.

"You're lucky it was me and not Tommy, he'd have your eyes the minute you laid your hands on him", she was surprised by how even she managed to keep her voice despite the sheer panic coursing through her. 

Y/N knew it was a lie, that Tommy would be far too outnumbered to take on five of Sabini's men on his own especially without being able to see much.

Sabini laughed, throwing his head back slightly before stopping abruptly and grabbing onto each of her arms.

"You listen here you little princess, I don't think you quite understand the extent of how pissed off I am at your fella. You see, him and his brothers came to my club in London two nights ago. The Eden Club. A well run establishment, I'm sure you've heard of it. Anyway, they caused such a fucking scene that I've had to take matters into my own hands. I was planning on getting to Tommy, show him how scared he should really be about barging into one of my clubs, but it seems I may now have an even better way of sending that message".

Even with the light uneven across his features she could see a sly snarl creep onto Sabini's face, his breath fanning against her skin as he spoke. It was enough to make her want to wretch.

"Right boys, forget about Tommy. I want you to do what you were going to do to Tommy to her"

Her heart flew straight into her throat, threatening to jump out of her mouth at any moment. She wanted to throw up but the best thing she could do now would be to gain as much attention to passers by as she could. She screamed again only to have her mouth covered by Sabini as two men took over the hold on her arms.

"Listen here you little bitch, whether you like it or not, you're getting a beating. If Tommy's not man enough to face me himself and resorts to showing up to one of my clubs instead then this is what happens, someones pretty little face gets smashed in"

"You're a fucking creep! Tommy will be here any minute and I'm sure his brothers will be with him too, you won't know what fucking hit you!", she spat, the venom spewing from her mouth.

Sabini wasted no time in landing a hard slap against her already throbbing cheek making her splutter out whatever saliva she had left. He didn't leave it there though as his gripped both hands around her throat, squeezing as tight as he could.

"We'll be glad to see Tommy and his brothers, we can have a nice little catch up. Those boys couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery no matter how hard they tried so I'm not too worried. Carry on boys"

He let go of her throat leading her to gasp for air, her lungs felt like they were on fire with every harsh breath.

She didn't even have time to brace herself from the punch that was swiftly administered to her stomach, knocking out every bit of air she had managed to gain back, bringing her to the ground with a hard thump. Her head bounced off the ground sending a shockwave of pain running over her skull and down her neck. 

The punches were now followed by the kicks of steel toe capped boots, each kick more painful than the last until she almost felt numb. Where the fuck is Tommy?

She wanted nothing more than to scream out for him, to hear him running towards the men with bullets flying, ready to put an end to this nightmare, but all she could do was sob as the pain coursed through her.

"Boys, hold her up", Sabini's voice cut through the sound of the thumps and thuds, his voice menacing laced with a sneer.

Two men gripped Y/N's arms and yanked her back onto her feet, knees buckling beneath her with one of her ankles too weak to bare any weight. She was pretty sure she had some broken ribs and that her ankle was much the same way but she knew there was nothing she could do about it now. The only thing she could do was let her head loll forwards with sheer exhaustion. 

It was hard to keep her eyes open as her head was pulled up by a harsh grab of her hair, weakness taking over her entire body.

"Look at me. I said look at me!"

Another firm yank of the hair had her gaze just about managing to focus on Sabini, his eyes showing a glint of evil.

"I want you to tell your dirty gypsy husband that I'm coming for him next, if he wants to take over my race tracks then he's gonna have to fight for it"

"You're a fucking pig Sabini", her voice was hoarse as she spoke, her head longing to fall fowards again and let her eyes shut.

"Take my fucking name out of your mouth! 'Ere, Franco, take my name out of this scum's mouth"

She wasn't prepared for what came next as a blade was forced inside her mouth, her cheeks slowly being cut as well as a part of her lip. The taste of the metallic blood filled every tastebud, the only noise she was able to make were muffled groans as the cold metal sliced roughly through her skin.

Her body suddenly dropped to the floor once more, the sound of the mens foot steps starting to fade as they made their way towards the back of the garage and through a hole in the wooden panelling. 

"Don't forget to give your husband my message, if you survive that is", Sabini's spoke, a chuckle following him as he finally left her and made his way out the same way as the other men. 

She had no energy to even cry any more, a numbness enveloping her body and the blood still slowly seeping out of every cut she'd sustained.

She couldn't focus on anything now, the need for sleep becoming too great to keep her eyes open. She didn't even hear Tommy's footsteps quickly approaching the garage a minute later where she lay in a pool of her own blood. All she could do was let her eyelids drop as she slipped into darkness.

—

"Y/N! Oh fuck, Y/N!"

His cries bellowed through the bleak surroundings, the only movement to be seen was the flicker of the flames from the fire in his peripheral. 

“John! Arthur! Where the fuck are you?”, he screamed into the night before turning his attention back to Y/N.

"C'mon Y/N you need to wake up now, c'mon sweetheart", his desperate pleas did nothing as he cradled her head, her blood soaking into his trousers. He could see her chest rising and falling but knew that it was getting slower and slower with every moment that passed by.

It'd only been a minute or so since he'd gotten there but he could've sworn it'd been more like an hour, his heart thumping so hard that he thought it would surely pop out of his chest. 

"John! Arthur!"

Tears were streaming down his face, dripping onto Y/N's blood soaked cheeks, leaving streaks running through the red liquid.

He knew his brothers were meant to be on their way with the promise of a bed at Arrow House for the night. He just hoped that they would be sober enough to help deal with the chaos that was going on.

There was so much blood that he didn't know what to do. Sure, he could leave Y/N and go get help himself, but he didn't want to leave her alone for even a second. He'd already let her down once this evening and he'd be damned if he was going to let her die here alone on the cold stone floor, or have the people who did this to her come back and finish off the job.

John and Arthur came stumbling through the open door of the garage, an arm wrapped over each others shoulders as they laughed about how many women they'd managed to pull that night. As soon as they saw the scene in front of them though, the laughing soon stopped and they both straightened up, their eyes almost not wanting to look at the state before them.

"Who the fuck did this, Tommy? Where the fuck are they? I'll fuckin’ get 'em Tom I fuckin’ promise you, those bastards won't get away with this!" John's hands had grown into fists with his knuckles turning white, the anger twisting his face into pure hatred.

"It doesn't matter right now, John. Just go and get help, call a fucking ambulance!", Tommy looked to Arthur whose expression had turned more into terror than anything else, "Arthur, I need you to get Pol, tell her Y/N's hurt, badly. Tell her I need her here, I need... just get her Arthur, now"

It took a second longer than Tommy would've liked but both brothers soon turned and ran out towards the Shelby family home, their legs wobbling beneath them as they went.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so fucking sorry", Tommy sobbed as he gently stroked her face, pulling her in closer to him. His mind was racing with all the questions he was dying to know the answer to.

He knew he should be worrying about who it was that had done this to her but he was pretty sure he knew the answer to that already, and he wasn't about to waste what time he might have left with his wife thinking about that. No. All that mattered right now was that Y/N was going to live, that her eyes would open and she'd look up at him with that brilliant smile he loved so much to tell him that she was okay, that she was going to survive this.

Flashing lights appeared outside whilst Tommy had his head rested on Y/N's, whispering over and over again how sorry he was and how much he loved her. The pain he felt was all consuming and he knew he'd give anything to be in her position right now, just like it should have been.

Even when the medics came to retrive Y/N he couldn't bare to let her go, he insisted on carrying her into the back of the ambulance and holding her all the way to the hospital. They knew better than to argue with the Shelby man but managed to convince him to allow for her vitals to be monitored on the journey there, her pulse rate rapidly declining.

Polly hadn't arrived at the garage quick enough so Arthur had driven both Polly and John to the hospital at speed, swerving all over the road as they went, the tires slipping on the slick ground beneath them.

When they finally got there they saw Tommy disappearing through the double doors with Y/N still in his arms, a trail of blood on the floor behind him. This was going to be a long night.

—

The doctors had managed to get her heart rate back up to a reasonable pace by the time she was settled into a private hospital room. Fluids were being administered consistently alongside different medicines flowing through the tubes, her wounds now dressed with bandages and a thin blanket covering her black and blue body.

"Mr. Shelby, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal, it's a miracle she's still alive", a tall man with slicked blonde hair and glasses spoke, a clipboard and pen in his hands.

"When will she wake up?", Tommy tried to shake off his annoyance at the doctors statement of the obvious, of course this was a fucking terrible ordeal! Anyone with eyes could see that. He just wanted the facts that mattered most.

"Mr. Shelby, as I said, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal..."

Tommy grimaced, "I fucking know she has, don't you think I can see what's right in front of me? That and the fact I found my wife lying in a pool of her own blood half dead? Just tell me, when will she wake up?"

He was growing tired of not having answers to the main question he had and knew he wouldn't be able to relax until he had a definitive answer.

"The honest answer Mr. Shelby is that we don't know. To be blunt we're not sure if she's going to"

Tommy's heart dropped into his stomach.

"As you know, she's been through...", the doctor paused, not wanting to use the term 'terrible ordeal' again, "A lot. We've taken some images of her brain and we can see that she has some bleeding and swelling. We're not sure that she can recover from something like that, we can only hope that she will. Her injuries are severe, Mr. Shelby. As well as the damage to the brain she also has some internal bleeding, broken ribs, a collapsed lung, brusing to the esophagus, cuts to the inside of her mouth and a broken ankle. We're doing everything we can to ensure that she'll recover from this but it will take time. I'm sorry"

A ringing sounded in Tommy's ears, a noise so defeaning that he couldn't focus on anything right now other than the fact Y/N might not make it through this. His chest tightened and he found himself struggling to breathe, the sheer weight of the words he'd just heard sitting heavy on his chest.

"Are you okay, Mr. Shelby?"

"Leave. Now, please. Leave!"

The doctor wasted no time in carrying out Tommy's order as he scurried out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Tommy fell to the floor, his knee's weak and unable to hold him upright. He clutched his chest as he gasped for the air that seemed to have become so thin in the room. Tears that had gathered in his eyes began to fall and there was nothing more he could do than kneel there on the cold floor as his world came crashing down around him. 

If he'd of been there at the time they'd agreed then this wouldn't have happened, not to Y/N anyway. It would be him laying in the hospital bed in front of him instead of her, or he'd be laying in a ditch somewhere ready for some poor passerby to find when dawn came. 

He knew for a fact that the guilt that was growing in strength would never leave him even if she did make it out of this, that he'd always blame himself for not being on time. 

A small knock on the door brought him shakily back up onto his feet again as he gripped onto the frame of the bed. Tommy managed to wipe away his tears just in time for Polly, John and Arthur to walk into the room. 

He couldn't look at them, only at Y/N laying in the bed. Her lifeless body was slightly sinking into the mattress beneath her, a mess of hair covered in congealed blood surrounded her head.

"Is she going to be okay, Tom?", John's voice quietly cut through the silence like a knife. 

Tommy took a moment before letting out a sigh, the lump in his throat wanting to escape and cause tears to come flooding out. 

"I don't know. The doctor said that she's got bleeding and swelling on the brain amongst other things. They don't know if she's going to wake up".

The room stayed silent with no one wanting to say a word, both for fear of upsetting Tommy further and also because what else was there to say? There was nothing any of them could do to make the situation better or to make light of any of this.

Tommy took a seat next to Y/N's bed side and held her fragile hand, longing for her to wrap her fingers around his, but of course she didn't. Even that alone was enough to make his heart break.

"John. I need you to arrange for the blinders to be on a rotation of a look out. I don't want anybody coming in or out this hospital without us knowing about it. Arthur, take Isaiah and a couple of the blinders with you to London, I need you to find Sabini", Tommy spoke plainly, not taking his eyes off of Y/N.

"Yes, Tom", Arthur nodded, motioning for John to follow his lead out of the room.

"Oh, and Arthur? When you find him", Tommy turned to look at him now, his eyes cold but somehow a fire lit in them, "Bring him to me. Alive"

—

Three days later

As expected, Tommy arrived back at the hospital within four hours instead of the six Aunt Polly had ordered. 

He couldn't sleep. Every time he'd managed to drift off he was soon awoken by nightmares of Y/N's screams as she was repeatedly kicked and punched, the sound each one of the blows made making his stomach churn. He could see her body laying there in a pool of blood with sobs wracking her chest... her calling out his name and him not being able to reach her even though he could see everything that was happening. 

Tommy woke up in a cold sweat, his clothes soaked right through and his hair wet. He decided he was better off admitting defeat than to try going back to sleep, the thought of having to see those images of Y/N whenever he closed his eyes was enough to make his blood run cold. 

His childhood home was quiet when he made his way downstairs. Ada had taken Finn to Arrow House under her watchful eye with Karl, it was better to be in a house that was stocked with firearms than back in London with nothing but a single pistol and where Sabini could be lurking in the shadows. 

John had gone to the hospital to take the next watch and Arthur was somewhere in London seeking out Sabini and his lackeys, waiting to hand him a blow that would make the Italian man wish he'd never come to Birmingham.

Tommy decided on having a bath before putting on clean clothes, taking a look in the mirror before he left. His complexion had almost drained of colour over the past three days with the exception of the dark circles that appeared under his eyes, much darker than usual. 

"God I hope she wakes up soon", he muttered to himself, adorning his peaky cap and reaching for the door handle before stepping out onto the bustling streets of Birmingham, lighting a smoke as he made his way to the hospital.

When he walked through the doors of Y/N's room he noticed something different. Aunt Polly was no longer sitting there with sadness in her eyes, instead she was stood next to the bed holding Y/N's hand, a small smile upon her face.

His eyebrows furrowed with confusion and his pace slowed as he approached her.

"What's happened?" he asked, nervous energy rushing through him.

"She moved, Tom. All on her own, she moved!"

Polly was beaming now, fresh tears sprang to her eyes and she had to resist the urge to hug him.

"What do you mean she moved?"

"I mean, I was reading her one of your poems and holding her hand. Her fingers started to move as if she was trying to tell me she could hear me. She's still in there Tommy"

His heart swelled in his chest although he didn't want to get his hopes up too much, there was nothing worse that breaking your own heart with false hope.

"It might've just been the nerves jumping, Pol. She probably doesnt have control of her body right now", he knew he sounded like dismissive bastard but he couldn't bring himself to believe that Y/N could do that but not open her eyes.

"Stop being so bloody negative Thomas. I'm telling you exactly what I saw with my own two eyes. Read to her yourself, you'll see", Polly scolded him, picking up the pages she'd left on her seat and going to hand them to him.

Tommy said nothing but shook his head towards the pages and instead took a step closer towards Y/N's bed. 

Polly placed Y/N's hand in his and softly spoke, "Y/N love, if you can hear what we're saying then squeeze Tommy's hand, let us know that you're still there".

He held his breath as he waited to see if she'd respond, his eyes watching her fingers like a hawk.

"She's not moving, Pol. You're seeing things with the lack of sleep, go home and get to bed, I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere"

"Don't tell me what you think I may be or may not be seeing and certainly don't tell me what to do. You may be a man now Thomas but I'm still able to lay you across my knee and give you a good hiding", her eyes glared daggers into the side of his head as he continued to stare at Y/N's fingers, unmoving on top of his.

"I'm sorry Pol, I just can't... I just can't stand the thought of having the hope there that she'll show me she's okay if she never actually...", he stopped dead in his tracks.

His mouth dropped open and his gaze widened in shock as Y/N's fingers started to slowly lift upwards before coming back down to rest on top of his fingers, trying to curl themselves around his.

"Y/N? It's okay, I'm here. You're safe", he placed his free hand over hers and leant over to kiss her head, the bruises still prominent, "I'm sorry Y/N, I'm so fucking sorry".

Tommy couldn't hold back the tears that were coming and let them spill out to fall down her cheeks, the overwhelming burst of relief he felt within his soul was like nothing he could explain. 

Polly stood with a hand over her mouth, a smile beneath her fingers. 

"T-T-Tommy?..."

Did she just speak?

His head shot up, eyes wide in disbelief. When he caught the first glimpse of her face he could see that her eyes were slightly open. Her eyeballs had red spots on them where blood vessels had burst, either from the pressure of being strangled or from the numerous hits to the face she'd sustained. He tried to hide the shock that hit him and gently cradled her face with both hands, careful not to press down on the discoloured blotches that lay beneath them.

"You're awake, you're... I-I can't believe it", he stuttered, scanning her face for any kind of expression.

"Y-you... w-w-were... late", she croaked.

It was almost as if he'd taken a stab to the chest as her words met his ears and the guilt came flooding back.

"I know, I'm so, so sorry Y/N, I really am. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for this, not for as long as I live"

He stifled a sniff as his tears continued, a sob escaping his lips as his face screwed up into pure anguish.

"I-it's... okay", she murmered, taking a deep breath, "do-don't be... s-sorry... I-I'm j-just... glad i-it w-wasn't... you"

"No sweetheart, no. It's not okay, none of this is okay. Because of me, you're lying here in a hospital bed, completely black and blue with internal injuries and broken bones, all because I got too cocky and tried to challenge that fucker. I swear to you, Y/N. I'm gonna put a bullet between his eyes for this, he's not going to get away with it".

He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face and she smiled softly, the memory of him doing to same back in The Garrison just before she'd left him that day, just before all of this happened…

"H-he said t-t-to... g-give you a... m-message..."

"No, shh shh, it's okay. You don't need to tell me anything right now, you need to rest and get better. You can hardly speak. Tell me anything you need to when you start to feel better. All I care about right now is that I have you, here, alive. No amount of money nor business could come close to how happy I am right at this very moment"

Two Days Later

She'd been awake more frequently over the next couple of days with each day being better than the last. Her bruises had now started to turn a lighter shade of blue with greens and browns dotted through them and the bleeding and swelling on her brain had improved significantly. 

The doctors were stunned at how well she was doing, they half expected her to die within the first few days she'd arrived at the hospital. 

"How are you feeling today?", Tommy asked as he stroked her hair from his position on the edge of the bed.

"A bit be-tter than yesterday", she softly smiled. She couldn't deny that she still felt like absolute shit and that every time she breathed it felt like she was trying to push air through a straw, but she was just relieved that she'd survived this whole ordeal, "Can you h-help me sit up a b-bit please?"

He instantly stood and gently swooped an arm beneath her legs and the other behind her back, carefully lifting her up before sitting her back down on the bed and repositioning her pillows behind her against the headboard. She winced with the motion but tried her best to hide it. She already knew that Tommy had so much guilt eating him up inside, it almost felt like if she showed him that she was in any kind of pain that it was a reminder of how much he'd fucked up.

"Is that okay?"

She nodded slowly, aware of her aching neck with every slight movement.

"Good, it's nice to see you looking a bit more like yourself", he smiled, his eyes studying every inch of her face.

"Sabini t-told me to tell y-you t-that he's coming for y-you next and that I-if you want to take o-over his race tracks then you're gonna h-have to fight for it... I'm s-scared, Tommy"

Tommy moved his chair closer to the bed, so close that his knees were touching the side of the frame, and took her hand in his.

"I promise you Y/N, you have nothing to be scared about. I know that I broke my promise before about being on time and it cost both of us more than I thought possible, but I swear to you, right here, right now in this moment, I won't let that fucker come near you ever again"

A response to that seemed impossible. Of course she wanted to believe her own husband but when he'd already broken one promise, one that had ultimatley almost led to her death, how could she possibly believe that he'd keep this one?

He could see her thoughts running round her mind, her eyebrows furrowing and mouth twitching like she didn't know what to say.

"Look, I know I fucked up massively. I will never be able to explain to you how sorry I am and I'd understand completely if you didn't want to be with me any more, but please believe that I will do everything in power from here on out to make sure that you're safe"

He was almost scared to hear what she was going to say. Did she want to leave him? Was he destined to lose his wife, not by death this time, but from the sheer fact she didn't think he could keep her safe?

"I-I could n-never leave you, T-Tommy Shelby", she smiled, her lips curving up into her bruised cheeks. 

Tommy stood up and brushed his lips against hers, laying a tender kiss upon them before pulling back slightly, enough to still feel her breath on his face.

"Just p-promise me one m-more thing", she spoke, looking into his eyes.

"Anything"

"Don't ever be l-late again"

He grinned, the twinkle in his eyes that she hadn't seen since waking up returning once more.

"I promise"

———

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[buckyalpine]

Hey honey ! It’s 🐚 !! I have a request for you 🙈🥰 I love tough men that are assholes but turn soft for this one sweet girl ! And I was thinking Mafia Bucky and his rival’s daughter . He starts hooking up with her with every intention of her father finding out and being furious . But she’s none the wiser . She’s sweet and gentle with him even when he’s rough and rude . He always leaves the minute they’re done ,leaving her all alone and naked in her bed but she’s never bitter about it. After one particular night though , where they had sex in his place , she fell asleep , too worn out from Bucky being particularly rough . He took a moment to see her as something more than his nemesis daughter and he had to admit she was ethereal. Always sweet and kind . So much different than him and Bucky realized he might be falling for her . Especially with the way she was clinging to him in her sleep and how she never treated him like he was the bad guy . When he woke up she wasn’t there but everything changed after that night . The sex was gentler and so were his touches and kisses . He wasn’t just hooking up with her . He was making love to her without a word about this new change in their situationship . Until one night he had her in his arms , unafraid to cradle her cheek and kiss her forehead , telling her how he is in love with her and asking her to forgive him for the way he treated her

18+

Okay I’m dropping a bunch of WIPS for this. Bruh the request alone gave me butterflies I love this trope so much. Goddamnn. 

This starts with very fuck boy asshole type Bucky. I made him a dick in this, deal with it, don’t cry about it, he redeems himself. See how the request says men that are assholes. I live for it. Bucky. Is. An. Ass. Hole. And a sweet baby by the end. 

Also I don’t trust google translate but that’s what we have to work with, I am so sorry. 

“You’re making this harder than it has to be Stark” Bucky sipped his drink, leaning back in his chair while Tony’s jaw clenched, wishing he could just put a bullet in between his rivals eyebrows. Bucky swirled the whisky in his glass, the ice clinking against each other while Tony rejected his proposal again, tensions growing higher with each passing minute. 

“You’re not getting control over the South” He gritted through his teeth, ready to end the meeting one way or another until the door clicked open. You poked your head into his office, quickly padding over to his side, ignoring the broody men that surrounded the office. 

“Dad, I’m going out with Wanda, we’ll be back late, is that okay?” You never left the house without telling him where you were going first, it was a rule he made for you when you were younger but you stuck to it even years later. You knew he always worried about you. 

Tony frowned at your presence, not because he didn’t want you there but because he could see the other men stare at you, their eyes raking up and down your body like fresh meat. The dark material of your dress hugged your body perfectly and the thigh high slit wasn’t helping. 

“Be safe” He pecked your forehead before sending one of his men with you, “Barton, drive her there” He shot the men in his office a death glare; he was patient over many things but you were not something they could fuck with. Ever. Bucky cocked an eyebrow noticing Tony’s shift in demeanor, he was protective over his little princess. He smiled to himself with this new information, why fight for the south side when he could he could ruin something more precious. 

“This meeting is over” Tony stated, nodding to his men to escort Bucky and the others out. He narrowed his eyes at the way Bucky shrugged, casually downing his drink without making a counter argument, leaving a bit to easily for his liking. 

Bucky climbed into his SUV with Steve by his side, his mind going back to you. Tony’s sweet baby. His protected princess. Steve also frowned at the way his friend accepted defeat, but he didn’t ask questions, noticing the way Bucky bit his lip, the wheels in his head clearly turning. The fucker had something in mind.

“You’re thinking something, I can tell” Steve gave Bucky a pointed look while Bucky shrugged innocently, earning an eye roll from his best friend. 

“I need a drink” 

The Club

Bucky sat at the private booth of the club, his mind calculating how he could over throw Stark without having to get his hands too dirty. He already had one idea in mind but that was more to satisfy himself. It wouldn’t get him his territory but it would get him something...better...He sipped his drink, sitting up slightly, seeing a familiar figure across the club, his lips curling into a smirk. 

“Isn’t that her” Bucky’s eyes landed on you, watching your hips sway on the dance floor, laughing with your friends, completely in your own world. It couldn't have been more perfect, you were right there, practically served to him on a silver platter for him to take. 

“Who” Steve turned around to see who Bucky was looking at, his eyes growing wide when he realized who his friend was eyeing. “Starks daughter?”

Bucky nodded, setting his glass down, making his way over to you before Steve or Sam could say anything else. 

“Why is he not on a leash”

“I knew I should have gotten him neutered” 

The blonde shook his head, running a hand over his face while Sam snorted, both men watching him make his way over to you. You were now seated at the bar, sipping on some water to cool down while your friends stayed on the dancefloor. 

“Hey doll” Bucky sat on the stool beside you, both of you tucked away in the quieter corner of the bar area. He could tell by the way you smiled shyly, you’d be easy, a few flirty words and he’d get what he wanted. 

“Hi” You blushed at the handsome mob boss, his blue eyes sparkling as he smirked at you. He bought you a drink, luring you into him like a siren. You found yourself getting lost in his charm, listening to his velvety smooth voice. Truthfully it was nice to talk to someone for once. Most guys avoided you, knowing you were the daughter of Tony Stark. 

It was easy for him. His eyes flicked to the way you looked at his lips, inching closer towards him, your sweet innocent face gazing at him. He didn’t have to do much are you were already preening like a kitten. He had you exactly where he wanted. The air shifted when his hand grazed you thigh, the cold metal of his rings making you shiver. You didn’t pull back, letting his hand climb higher, leaning into his touch, your heart racing, craving more of him. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop” His voice was low, his lips brushing by your ear. Your breath hitched when his hand tilted your chin up to meet his eyes again, nearly whimpering when his hand squeezed the soft flesh of your thigh. 

“So needy” He smirked while you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, letting him take you by the hand to the private bathroom of the club. As soon as he locked the door, his previous charm dropped. His eyes darkened, his hands immediately all over you, pushing you against the marble counter of the sink. His lips smashed onto yours, tongue and teeth, not giving you a chance to breathe.

He sucked dark bruises on your neck, trailing the across your collar bone, pulling the front of your dress down to free your breasts. He lifted you onto the counter with ease, latching onto your nipple, tugging it between his teeth, smirking at the way you cried out. 

He parted your legs, ripping your panties off and stuffing them in his pocket. Your pussy dripped, clenching around nothing at the sound of his belt buckle and pants unzipping, moaning when he pulled your thighs to wrap around him, his cockhead prodding your entrance. He didn't bother prepping you, his mind focused on stuffing his cock into you and fucking you senseless. 

“Shh, better keep quiet unless you want others to hear how I’m about to fuck you” He growled against your skin, shoving his cock into you with one stroke. He gave you no time to adjust, snapping his hips against you, his hands gripping your ass while your hands flew to clutch around him, sinking your teeth into his shoulder to keep your screams down. He slammed against your g-spot, your arousal squirting out of you with each thrust, the coil in your belly building higher and higher as he fucked you harder. 

“I-I’m gonna-” You couldn’t formulate a sentence, clawing at his blazer, his cock filling and stretching you, ruining you for anyone else. “Please-

“Don’t-don’t talk, just take it” His voice was low, teeth gritted as he focused on ruining your pussy. You felt flustered, your body on fire each time he touched you. You felt yourself melt into him, letting him toy with your body. His fingers gripped onto your ass, slamming you into him to meet his strokes. He wanted to fill  you up till you were so full of cum, it’d drip and stain onto your bed sheets. All of his fucking cum painted on your pussy while you went to sleep, pretending to be an innocent little princess like you didn’t just take your dad’s rivals cock in the bathroom of the club. 

Your eyes rolled back feeling his cock stroke your g-spot, the roughness of his hands on your body making you climb higher, you clung onto him, your body pulled taut, a sob escaping your lips before muffling your cries by biting down onto his neck as you came. Bucky smirked to himself, pounding you harder, chasing his release. He didn’t even have to touch you and you were coming undone for him, wrapped tightly around his body, your pussy sucking him back in. 

He could feel pleasure crawl down his spine, his cock growing harder, something about getting to fuck his enemies daughter made him more feral than ever, his cock bursting with cum, endless thick streams shooting out of his sensitive tip.

“Fuck” he hissed, pumping his load into you, groaning as he pulled out, his cum dribbling out of you, spilling onto the sides of your thighs. You looked dazed, lipstick smeared, panting, your body limp against him. He tucked his cock back in, not looking back twice, leaving you a panting mess as he exited the bathroom. You stood on shaky legs, trying to steady yourself before grabbing a damp tissue to clean yourself up.

You splashed some water onto your face, your mind reeling over the way his touches made you feel, touching up your makeup before going back down to find your friends, his handsome face flashing in your mind throughout the night. 

***

“Can you explain what it is you’re doing here” Steve watched his friend carefully, his hair disheveled, shirt untucked, a lipstick stain on the collar of his shirt when he joined them again, a satisfied smirk on his face. 

“She’s probably a spoiled brat anyway” Bucky shrugged, unbothered about the type of person you were or how you felt about any of this. He wanted to see Tony’s face if he knew he had fucked his daughter, balls deep till she was walking around with sticky thighs, her soaked little cunt dripping all over her bed with his cum. He smirked to himself over the way you moaned for him, biting him to keep yourself quiet, the way your body responded to him, so needy and desperate. You were the opposite of your father; easy and none the wiser. If he couldn’t get what he wanted from Tony, he’d take the next best thing. It’s not like he wanted you. He just had to use you. 

The club wasn’t enough. Now he had you in his hands, he wasn’t going to let you go until he you were ruined. He used the meetings that took place in your house to his advantage, quietly sneaking off down the hall way to find you. Your heart jumped seeing him leaning against wall as you made your way to your room after eating breakfast. 

“Haven’t stopped thinking about me, have you” He smirked, cornering you against the wall, his chest pressed against yours. His hands came up to grasp your face, eyes locked with yours “You gonna let me cum in you?” 

You let out a shuddered breath, and that was all he needed, dragging you over to your room and tossing you onto your bed. 

“Take your clothes off” His cold blue eyes bore into you as you timidly unbuttoned your blouse, your hands shaking, already feeling exposed at the way he watched you. He wasn’t going to wait for you, striding over to the bed, his hands firmly gripping the material of your silky blouse, ripping it open, sending buttons flying onto the floor. His hands grabbed at the hem of your skirt, pulling it down before quickly tossed your bra and panties aside. 

Your face heated up at the way he slowly crawled on top of you, the scent of his cologne throwing you back to the way he fucked you at the club, pulling pleasure from your body so easily. 

“Please” Your soft eyes pleaded with his and his ego shot through the roof, getting to fuck you right on your bed. He nudged your thighs apart while marking you with his mouth. 

“Always ready for my cock” He hummed, smearing your slick around, shoving two thick fingers into you, curling and scissoring them till you were withering and nearly screaming, your arousal leaving your sheets wet. 

“James please” You looked at him with glassy eyes while he sat back, unbuttoning his pants, freeing his cock just enough so he could fuck you. He rubbed his cock onto your clit before shoving it into you, pounding you relentlessly as soon as he was fully sheathed inside you. 

Your body moved to wrap around him, your legs tight around his waist and arms clinging onto his shoulders. All you could do was moan and chant his name, his cock was practically in your throat, thrusting into you till your bed scrapped against the floor. His chest swelled with pride as soon as he felt your walls start to convulse and flutter, you were so responsive to him. 

“Cum, fucking cum on my cock” His hand snaked up to wrap around your throat, your pussy immediately clenching and throbbing around him, silent screams leaving through your slack jaw. His grunts grew louder, thrusting harder into you until he couldn’t hold back, determined to make a bigger mess than before. 

“Take it, fucking-take it, take my cum” He grunted, groaning as his hips stilled, staying as deep as he possibly could while he poured his load into you. His cum spilled out of you, soaking the sheets, your greedy sopping hole, still fluttering even after he pulled out. 

Perfect. 

You were still hazy, blinking when you felt his body weight off the bed, sitting up slightly to see him already making his way towards your door. 

“Oh-bye!”

Bucky clicked the door shut before you could even finish, leaving you bare and alone in your bed. You fell back against the sheets, your body worn and exhausted. You didn’t mind the soreness that you felt all over, sleep washing over you as you thought about his honeyed voice, those blue eyes, rough exterior. There was more to him even if he didn’t show it. 

It went on for weeks. You were his perfect little cum dump, taking load after load, whenever he wanted. Your room. The kitchen. On the floor. He almost found it pathetic, how easily you let him back into your warmth when he never looked back at your twice after. It didn’t matter though. He got what he wanted. 

Gala night 

You sighed, sitting by yourself while everyone else mingled with their respective groups, you’d never been a fan of parties but you didn’t have much of a choice. You had to make an appearance at the gathering hosted by one of your families allies though you didn’t understand why. No one had even noticed you. 

Well not exactly no one. 

Bucky’s eyes lingered on you as he watched you across the room from his table. You hadn’t spoken to a soul all night, nervously fidgeting with your fingers, sipping on you glass of wine, the red liquid staining your lips. You wore a dark green dress, your legs on display with the thigh high slit and the sweet heart neckline showing off your perfect cleavage. 

“Y/n” A son of your fathers friend wandered over, his hungry eyes flicking from your lips to your chest and up and down your legs. He noticed that you were alone, deciding to use the chance to get what he had been craving. He pulled up a seat beside you, sitting close enough so his legs brushed against yours. 

 “John” You smiled softly, internally wishing you had just stayed home. He had asked you out a number of times before and you always politely turned him down. Bucky narrowed his eyes at the blond who kept inching closer and closer to you, his hands trying to linger on your skin, lips whispering in your ear. 

“You look beautiful. Did anyone accompany you?” He knew the answer but that didn’t matter. You shook your head and he grinned “You know you could have asked me sweets, I would have been happy to” He moved his hands to rest on your knee, slowly moving up to your thigh. 

Your body jerked back, pulling away as if his touch burned your skin. His touch didn’t feel like Bucky’s. His eyes grew cold, it irritated him that you were so sweet and pathetically innocent yet unfazed by his attempts to seduce you; you’d never given into him.

“I-I appreciate that but I wanted to come alone” You didn’t want to upset him though you were very close to dumping a glass of wine on his head. Bucky’s jaw clenched at the way your body froze, discomfort evident on your face as he continued to try and paw at you. 

Bucky didn’t like you.

Or care for you.

But you were still his to ruin and he wasn’t going to let someone stop that. 

Is what he told himself as he shot out of his seat making his way to your table while Steve and Sam gave each other amused glances. Your eyes lit up as you saw Bucky taking long strides towards you, pulling you out of your seat and wrapping his arm around your waist without looking at you once. His eyes were trained on the blond that wordlessly glared back at him, not willing to argue with the mob moss as he walked away with you. 

“I want to leave” You whispered up at him, craving to be touched by him, and forget the feeling of Walkers hands on you. 

“Let’s get out of here” He tugged your wrist, dragging you into his SUV, tossing you in the back. You waited for him to get in, snuggling into his side when he slid in beside you, gasping when he gripped your cheeks, smashing his lips onto yours. There was nothing but tongue and teeth as he claimed you, biting and nipping at your lips, his hands grasping your waist to pull you closer. 

“Home” He nodded to his driver before practically pulling you onto his lap, closing the divider as he sucked on your pulse point. He never brought women over to his place, given his line of work, he didn’t take the risk. But right now, his needs over threw that logic as he told the driver to take him home, ready to take you apart on his bed.

He hardly let you breathe the entire car ride, his tongue laced with yours, fingers tugging your hair, while your hands came down to grasp at his shirt. He broke away when the car stopped in front on the driveway, his hunger to have you wrapped around him growing stronger. 

“Come here” He pulled you out of the car, carrying you in with your legs wrapped around his waist. He took you straight to his room, kicking the door closed, holding you up with one arm before locking it and setting you down. He threw his suit jacket off before turning you around and unzipping your dress, letting it fall and pool around you feet, leaving you in your underwear. 

He groaned at the dark sheer lace that hugged your body, cupping your perfect breasts, your sweet pussy hardly covered by the tiny material of your panties. 

“On your knees” He commanded, unbuttoning his pants, pulling his cock out, rubbing the tip onto your lips, making them glossy. You licked off his precum, moaning up at him while he gripped your hair back, the other hand holding onto your jaw. “Open” 

He shoved his cock down your throat, guiding your face up and down his length,  throbbing as you gagged and choked on him. His thumbs swiped over the tears that spilled down your cheeks, moaning at how wrecked you looked. 

“So fucking perfect, sucking my cock like a the little slut you are” He groaned, “otsosi mne, printsessa”

Every whine and moan that you made went straight to his cock, twitching, dribbling arousal down your throat. He pulled you off, not willing to just cum in your mouth, not when his balls felt heavy, his cock desperate to be inside you. He carried you over to the bed, dropping you and ripping your lingerie off before stripping all his clothes off and crawling on top of you. 

You let out a soft gasp at his complete bare form. He had never taken all his clothes off before, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander from his thick muscular thighs, dripping cock, perfect chest and handsome face, he was beautiful all over. 

“James?”  You blinked as he paused between your legs, the greedy side of him desperate to taste you, something he had denied himself thus far. Until tonight. You always smelled so sweet. He was going to make sure he touched and claimed every part of your body. “James, what are you-ohmygod!” 

You gasped as he dove into your folds, his mouth unrelenting, sucking and swirling his tongue while he shoved two fingers into you, pumping them in and out, making your moans grow louder. He looked up at your squirming form, your head thrown back, thighs trembling and squeezing around his head. 

“I-I’m gonna-fuckfuck-please-P-PLEASE”

He smirked against your clit, slapping the side of your thigh before sucking with more pressure and shoving a third finger in you, throwing you over the edge. Your juices spilled out of you, soaking his face, your scent and arousal covering his beard. 

He didn’t give you any time to recover from you high, grasping your ankles and flipping you over, shoving your face down and bringing your ass up, his cock rubbing up and down your cunt. 

“moya malen'kaya shlyushka“ He mumbled to himself, spanking your ass making you cry out. “Take it princess” He spanked you again, rubbing the sting away before grasping the soft flesh, squeezing it in his hands. 

“Bet he would have loved to have you like this, hm?” 

“Who?” Your brain couldn’t function, focused on his length pressed against you, 

“Your little boy toy who wanted you attention so badly, ty shlyukha“ His fingers gripped tightly, humping and rutting his cock against you while you mewled, desperate for him to do something, “You ever let him put his cock in you?”

“N-no” You whined, as his hand gripping your ass further, guiding his cock to your fluttering entrance. A satisfied smirk graced his lips as he slammed into you, pulling your hips back to meet his thrusts, groaning at the way you cried out at the stretch. The sounds of his skin slapping on yours echoed through the room, nearly drowning out your muffled cries. 

“Yeah, you know why baby? Cause your my little slut, my fucking cum dump” He wanted to ruin you so fucking badly, your pussy would never be the same, his hand snaking down to tug your hair for leverage to fuck you harder. “That’s all your fucking good for, to take my loads, give me something warm, tight and wet to cum in”

“F-uck! JAMES” He fucked you at an animalistic pace, moving to grip onto the headboard, his brows furrowed, keeping your face buried against the mattress. 

“Such a well fucked hole, look-look at how you’re greedy cunt is swallowing my cock” 

“P-PLEASE JAMES!” You had tears in your eyes, overwhelmed with pleasure, the overstimulation consuming your body. You could hardly focus on anything, your hands blindly searching for something to hold on to. You could tell if you wanted more or less, your belly tightening again, ready to cum for a second time. 

“Shut up and take it” He growled, his hips snapping wildly, the headboard cracking under his grip. Your tears spurred him on, his cock growing harder, ruined on his bed, crying out for him. He moved one hand to shove his fingers into your mouth, moaning when he felt your pussy clench, shoving them deeper.

Your body always responded to him perfectly, he couldn’t hold on any longer, his balls heavy and tight, ready to fill you with his cum. 

“Ready for my cum, princess? Open that little pussy up for me, m’gonna fill you so much, it’ll squirt out of you, make my cock creamy princess, dirty messy slut” You could feel every vein and ridge of his cock against your sensitive walls, your arousal making his balls wet eat time they slapped your clit. “Say it, say you want my fucking cum”

“I want your cum!”  You slurred out, waiting for his warmth to flood you. 

“Who, whose cum do you fucking want” His head was thrown back, cock starting to twitch, the tip swollen and sensitive. 

“Yours daddy” 

That did it, you were too fucked out to even register what you had just called him but Bucky hear it loud and clear. It unleashed something in him, giving you 3 harsh sloppy thrusts before he couldn’t hold off any longer. 

“Shit-FUCK-hng fuuuckkkk” His movements stilled, his cock throbbing, spilling his cum into you. He gave you a few more sloppy thrusts, emptying himself before pulling out and pushing his sensitive cock into you again, rolling you over so he could see your fucked out face. He had to stop himself from lapping up your soaked pussy with his mixed arousal, his cock ready to fuck his cum back into you as it dripped out. 

“I’m not done with you”

****

Your body was limp on the bed, panting, soreness and bruises littering your skin. He had thrown you around in every position, pulling pleasure from your body as if it satiated his hunger. He pumped you full of his loads, not leaving one part of you untouched, his hands, tongue and cock caressing your body. 

After the last round, he had gotten up to splash some water on his face, his body covered in sweat, his spent cock soaked in your mixed arousal. He wasn’t a stranger to rough sex but even he felt worn out, having thrown you around like a ragdoll to his content, cumming in you until he couldn't anymore. 

As he walked back, Bucky blinked, seeing your curled up form on his bed, snuggled in his sheets. 

That wasn’t part of his plan.

He didn’t intend on letting you fall asleep. 

He couldn’t help but slip under the covers, too exhausted to think about if this was appropriate or not, waves of sleep crashing over him. He swallowed thickly when you shifted in your sleep, snuggling into his side, seeking his warmth, your arm hugging his waist, head resting on his chest. He tried to shuffle over but you clung onto him in your sleep, tucking yourself against him as much as you could, letting out a small whine whenever he moved. 

Your body felt to soft and warm on him. He had never taken the time to really look at you, but as you laid on his chest, his eyes flicked across your face, taking in your features. 

Your lashes fluttering against your cheeks. The pout of your lips. The soft curve of your jaw. There was no doubt you were beautiful but there was also something ethereal. Angelic. 

Almost...precious.

It almost felt wrong for him to touch something so sweet and delicate. 

He could smell the soft scent of your shampoo. 

His eyes drifted to the bruises that covered your body. 

The ones he marked you with. 

The ones he never paid attention to before. 

The ones he should have kissed and massaged- no. No...No?

You were nothing more than a means to an end...but he couldn't stop himself from stroking your skin, while holding you close. His hand trailed down softly to trace down your spine, making you shiver, nuzzling against him further. He couldn’t understand how even in your sleep, you were sweet. Trusting. You wanted to be wrapped in his warmth. He thought about the way you looked up at him when he tugged you from the party. The way you stayed on his lap the entire care ride home. 

He thought about how he left without looking back each time but you were always so warm whenever he came back. Soft. His body moved on its own, pulling the sheets up to cover you, pressing a delicate kiss onto your head. 

What was going on with him. 

The next morning

He blinked awake, frowning at the coldness of the bed. You had left at some point during the night, so quietly he didn’t even notice. He felt....disappointed. He wasn’t even sure why. He missed the way you fit in his arms. The way you slept so soundly while cuddled up with him. 

Something changed after that night. He sought your warmth, not just your body. He wanted to feel you wrapped around him, your arms clinging to be closer, your adorable little disgruntled sounds whenever he shifted while you slept on his chest. The way your voice soothed him. It wasn’t hooking up or just fucking anymore. It was softer each time. More sweet words. Lingering touches. He’d stay longer just to hear your honeyed voice, talking about anything, it didn’t matter. He knew this was no longer just him trying to get back at your father. 

He had fallen for you. 

He never thought he’d be capable of that type of affection, yet with you he had his first taste of sweetness and he didn’t want to let go.

A few weeks later - His room 

“Come here” He pulled you close to him, his hands softly caressing your body feeling every bit of you as he laid with you on his bed. He peppered soft kisses onto your face, making up for all the times he should have kissed you before, your skin felt like soft silk on his lips. 

He pushed himself into you slowly, for the first time, feeling all of you wrapping him in your warmth. He’d been inside you so many times before but now he actually felt you. Your sweet body under his, trusting him to take care of you. 

He couldn’t hurt you, you were so precious. 

His hands gently held onto you, rocking his hips slowly, savoring every second. 

You knew something was different. He knew something was different. 

“James, don’t stop, p-pleaase”

“I won’t stop baby, I won’t”

“Don’t let go”

“I’ll never let go malyshka, prekrasnaya printsessa” 

He was making the softest sweetest love to you and you clung onto his body never wanting it to end. He held you gently as you came undone for him, slowly thrusting into you as he reached his high. His touch was so delicate, you would have almost missed it. 

He didn’t say a word about what had just happened. 

He thought he could ignore it, go back to how things were but when he was still throbbing in you, unable to stop how much he was cumming for you, it was impossible. His body weight fell on you, still grinding and rutting his cock, moaning into your neck. He nearly sounded like he was in pain, overstimulating himself with your sweetness. 

“James?” You cupped his face, making him look at you, your thumb caressing his scruffy cheek. “Is everything okay?” 

“You feel good baby” he whispered, resting his forehead onto yours. “You feel go so good” 

“James what’s wrong” Your voice was more firm this time, cocking your head, waiting for him to tell you what was on his mind. His eyes were glassy, pushing some of your hair back, his thumb stroking your forehead. 

“You’re an angel” He gazed down at you, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, how did he ever think about using you. 

“Baby, where’s this coming from?” 

He stroked your hair, his heart sinking at your confused expression. He didn’t even know where to start.  “I- he huffed in frustration, how could he look you in the eye and tell you what his intentions were. “I-I don’t deserve you” He shook his head, biting his lip, unable to meet your eyes. He rolled you both over so you rested on his chest, your doe eyes waiting for him to continue. 

“Why?” The flash of hurt that crossed your face made his heart jump, he never wanted to be the cause of your pain. 

“Because angel, you’ve always been sweet. Kind. Affectionate. I didn’t treat you the way you deserved. I left you on your on every night when I should have held you. Made love to you, not bruised you skin” 

His voice had slowly dropped to a whisper, his heart racing. You could see tears well in his eyes, his hands trembling on your skin while he rubbed your back. 

“You’re precious angel, I can’t believe I ever treated you otherwise. You deserved love from the start” He let the tears roll down his cheeks, full prepared for you to up and leave, he knew he wasn’t worthy of you at all. And yet...he couldn’t stop the next words that slipped past his lips. 

“YA tebya lyublyu” You blinked up at him while he smiled softly, sniffling, cupping your cheek, brining you closer to him “I love you”

“You love me?” You could fee your heart hammer in your chest, as you inched closer, your nose bumping against his, your thumb wiping his tears.

“I do moya sladkaya malyshka” He kissed your forehead, then nose, and the softest kiss to your lips. “Please forgive me babygirl, please” His eyes were pleading with you, ready to give you the world in your hands if that’s what you wanted. You nodded, snuggling into his hold while he wrapped you tight, hoping he’d be able to have you just like this for the rest of his life. His sweet girl. 

“I love you James”

“Say it again baby” He whispered, wanting to hear those words from you over and over again. 

“I love you” you smiled against his skin, while he kissed your head. 

“My sweet doll” He adored you so much. “Say it again”

After secret dating and sneaking around for as long as you could

Now given that Bucky is your fathers rival, you can imagine it isn’t exactly the easiest thing to bring up. Tony is not immediately on board. At all. 

Until he sees you both one day when you both think no one’s looking. He’s a little taken aback at how soft Bucky is for you. Who knew such a jackass could also be such a gentleman. 

Your both outside in your garden; you thought your dad had gone out for meetings for the day. Bucky has you on his lap, feeding you berries with kisses in between each bite. He can’t take his eyes off you, nose nuzzled against your cheek, cuddling you under the warm sun. He can’t stop smiling and looking at you with heart eyes, his hands playing with your hair. 

Clint snorts, watching Tony narrow his eyes at you both while watching you from his office. He so badly wants to shoot Bucky because again, how dare this cocky jack ass come to his house and woo his babygirl, fuck no. 

But also...

You looked so happy. 

“They’re cute, huh” Clint joined Tony’s side, smirk down at your both. 

“Shut up”

He wants to go down and tell the mob boss to get his hands off his daughter but you laugh and snuggle into Bucky further. 

“It’s been months boss, she’s the only one he’s been with, I hate to say it but it looks like he really loves her. And she loves him” 

“Why do you know this”

“You’re not the only one who keeps tabs on her, she’s everyone little princess” Clint rolled his eyes, knowing the way all of Tony’s men cared for you like their own. Tony grunts, leaving to pour himself a taaaallll glass of whisky. 

He wasn’t Bucky’s number 1 fan but for his little princess, he will allow it. There’s no doubt that Bucky loves you almost more than him. If you were a princess at home, Bucky treats you like a queen. You’d always be protected. Cared for. 

Bucky comes directly to Tony all on his own, asking for your hand. Yes, its an outdated practice but he respects Tony and wants him to know his intentions are to love you and take care of you. He knows how much it would mean to you for father to say yes. 

It’s a long discussion. Lots of differences put aside. Alliances formed. 

Tony still thinks Bucky is a jackass but he can’t help but smile at the happy squeals he hears down the hall when Bucky goes straight to you to ask you to marry him.

A sweet intimate wedding. Not exactly small, but only people you both care for are there. Steve and Sam spend the entire time at the altar with shit eating “I told you so” grins. 

(Tony’s wedding present is the south side) 

Your first son, Steve Anthony Barnes is spoiled beyond reason by literally everyone. Steve and Sam compete with Tony and Clint and it’s done nothing but get on your nerves because you’d need a second house with how many presents he gets for no reason at all. 

Your baby girl, Rebecca Samantha Barnes is daddy’s little princess. (Bucky will never, ever in his life admit he now understands how Tony felt over you. He kicks himself every so often and spoils you as much as he can) 

The twins, Clinton and Natalia can only be left together for so long before they get up to mischief. Which is every minute of the day. Steve confirmed that dealing with illegal shipments was less terrorizing. Everyone agreed. 

And of course with each day, Bucky is still head over heals in love with you. 

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[miniwheat77]

Nasty. (Mean!König x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, König being a big meanie, rough sex, unprotected sex, slight dub con, poorly translated German, this is short forgive me, (sorry if I missed any.)

Your nerves are completely shot as you stand in a line. You don’t know why, but he’s so so mean. So mean. He hates you for some reason. Absolutely hates you.

You’re lined up with other Sergeants, waiting nervously as Colonel König passes each of you. “Y/L/N, 50 push ups. im Augenblick.”

You know better than to argue, so you drop to the floor, beginning to do your push ups. Trying not to cry. You wish you could just know why he’s so mean to you. You just didn’t understand, you’d never done anything. You were always kind to him. Always obeyed him. When you finish your push ups, he’s excused everyone else and he’s watching you intently. “Colonel.” You ask, out of breath. He looks at you. “Can I ask why you gave me 50 push ups?” He stands there, eyes dark as he stares upon you.

“50 more.” He breathes. “Now.” A sigh leaves your lips and you obey him, dropping down to your knees again and propping yourself up. “When you’re finished you can go to bed.” He breathes. You choose to ignore him, tired of the way he’s treating you. He walks away down the hallway, but watches to make sure you actually finish your push ups. You do. He smirks to himself. You stand up when you finish and walk down the hallway to your room. You don’t understand.

A couple days later, you wait patiently for an order. You’ve been burned out completely, he’s making you run laps around the base and your eyes are burning from the sweat dripping down your face. The sun is beating down on you and he won’t let you stop for anything. He disappeared a while ago and you haven’t seen him. Your vision starts to blur, and you look confused. Legs slowing to a stop against your will. You start to see other colors, brighter colors filling your vision. That’s all you remember.

König forgot. He went inside for a second and he was going to head back out to relieve you but he got distracted. He’s sitting in his office when he hears yelling, and stands up to peek outside. Curious what the commotion is. He sees another Sergeant bursting through the door carrying you, and his stomach falls. “I need a medic!” He calls. Others flood the hallway and a medic appears. They’re rushing you back to the infirmary. “What’s going on?” She asks. “I don’t know, I found her outside passed out.”

She sighs. “She’s having a heat stroke, we need to cool her temperature down.” König walks away from the infirmary. He knows he’s a little extreme sometimes.

—

“My office, now.” His stern voice sends chills up your spine. You follow after him.

He closes the door behind you and walks around you, staring you down. “I said 50 push ups.” He crosses his arms. “I will do them, but I want to know why first.” You breath. He mumbles something under his breath in German, you don’t hear him. “Now.” He breathes. “No.” You breathe. “I deserve to know why.” He let’s out a deep chuckle and you know you’re digging yourself a hole, but you’re tired of this. “You listen to me, girl.” He growls. “I don’t have to explain myself. I don’t have to tell you why. I say jump, you fucking jump.” He growls. “dummes Mädchen.” He growls. You know what he’s just said. “Fuck you.” You growl. His eyes snap to you, wide. He’s pissed. In one second, he’s got you slammed up against a wall. Hand around your throat. He’s watching you turn a shade of red. “Fine. You want to fucking disobey me?” He breathes. You can feel his spit particles landing on your face. He’s seething. “Ich zeige dir, was ich mit bösen Mädchen mache.” He growls, he lets go of your throat and spins you around. Forcing you down onto his desk.

Your eyes widen as he tears your cargo pants down your legs, forcing them down. What is this? Why is he reacting like this? You feel the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance and in one hard thrust, he forces his cock into you and a gasp gets stuck in your throat as he starts to thrust himself into you. He’s stretching you and it hurts. Tears prick your eyes at the intrusion, a cry leaving your lips.

Luckily your body gets used to him. Your hands clutch his desk and he groans out. Hands holding your hips in a death grip, sure to leave bruises in their wake. His belt rattles violently with each of his brutal thrusts, the massive man makes you look small. Watching the way your pussy stretches around his massive cock has his eyes rolling back. You’re quiet for a while, but his thrusts halt immediately when a moan leaves your lips. He spins you around, pupils blown out. He can’t believe his ears. “Do you like this?” He asks. You’re leaning up against his desk, body exposed to his judgmental eyes. You stay quiet which earns a sharp slap to your cheek. You nod your head shyly. He grasps your thighs, forcing you back onto his desk again, returning his cock to your weepy hole. He thrusts in again and you cry out. “Ah! König please- slower please-“ you whimper. “You can take it, we both know you can.” He growls. He squeezes your breasts too hard and you whimper out, he’s so mean. “You like when I’m mean to you, dumme Hure” he growls. “You like when I bully your slutty pussy. I know how wet you get for me when I’m mean to you. You like it. So take it. Nimm mich, du verdammte Schlampe”

A cry leaves your lips as he bullies your cunt. Thrusting into you hard, not giving you anytime to adjust to him or his massive size. His desk is sliding across the floor with a violent screech, it doesn’t phase him. Not even a little bit. His groans that he’s letting out, they’re something different. You’ve never heard him being pleasured before, only angry at you. Maybe this is how you could make him happier. Maybe this is how you fix him being mean to you. You’ve got a death grip on his desk, his cock is pushing into your cervix and it’s too much. Bordering uncomfortable but you don’t dare tell him that. You keep your legs open for him, letting him use you. His moans are getting a little more desperate. Whimpers almost. “Oh fuck, so tight.” He gasps. He pushes one of your legs up a little higher, cock sliding even further into you. How on earth you were handling him was beyond you. You can’t help as your eyes start to water, tears beginning to spill from your eyes at the intensity of his massive cock. He’s overwhelming you. You can’t help it. “König?” You ask. “What?” He growls, “can I cum?” You whimper. You can see the way the small wrinkles around his eyes form, he’s smiling. “Now that’s a good girl, asking for permission.” He breathes. “Just a little longer.” He breathes.

You’re right on the edge. He’s pushing you over it quickly and you don’t know if you can hold on. “Ich sagte, warte”

You nod your head eagerly and he’s smiling down at you again. His cock twitches slightly and he’s about to cum. “Cum now, Liebling” he mumbles. You fall apart completely beneath him. Thighs shaking, body shivering. Chills arising on your skin. Your eyes roll back and you’re sucked into another dimension for a minute. The sound of him panting is bringing you back down to earth. He slides out of you and you let out a gasp. Realizing what’s just happened, he’s cum in you. Your eyes widen slightly. Worry filling you up.

“Get dressed and go clean up.” He orders. You nod your head, obeying him immediately.

The feeling that settles into your chest, sadness. Because no matter how much you offered your body up for him. Your holes, he was always just going to be mean.

[nilsavatar]

DAY 31 - A/B/O

Parings: Neteyam x Fem!Avatar

Genre/Warnings: NSFW/MDNI +18, no use of Y/N, ANGST, SMUT in the end, love bites, rubbing, sexual tension, olfactophilia (they both turn on by smelling arousal/pheromones), P in V, manhandling, oral (f receiving), face fucking, fingering, praising, cursing, pet name (ma’uniltı`ranyu - my dreamwalker), rough, knotting, dirty talk, overstimulation, edging, strangers to lovers, first time (first heat, loss of avatar body virginity), begging, difference in power (alpha-omega dynamics), soft-dom Neteyam (mention of marking, possessive behavior but he’s kind and caring), Jamie Flatters cameo. All characters are AGED-UP.

Summary: Living in the body of an avatar is not as simple as one might think.

Little note: OMG! You have no idea how happy I am to have finally finished this fic. It has been on hiatus for so many months that I thought I would never publish it. The more time passed, the more the pressure to write something worth the long wait increased. I rewrote it so many times, but it never seemed good enough, and the editing was exhausting. I hope with all my heart not to disappoint your expectations. Please be forgiving: this is my first Omegaverse. Thank you🥰

If you would like to be tagged in future fics, please write it in the comments. I will be happy to add you all💕

Word Count: 7,6k

Masterlist - Request a fic

Aubree’s knowledge as a xenobiologist fell short in front of the challenges of living as a dreamwalker among the Na’vi.

The presence of a secondary sex was fascinating, fictional in the eyes of a human being, accustomed to a binary system. But on Pandora, things were way different. The natives displayed their primary sex (male or female) from birth, and their roles in the clan were influenced by signs that emerged during puberty. Alphas, predominantly men, possessed a massive physiognomy. Tall, muscular, strong-willed, controlled in character, yet predisposed to irascibility. Betas were the largest group, with an equal proportion of females and males, and the most human-like. Omegas, mostly women, were known for their petite and delicate build, along with a calming demeanor.

When she arrived on Pandora, she had no particular expectations of what her avatar’s designation would be. Still, no one would ever have considered a potential alpha looking at her features. Aubree was a spitfire who was unlikely to be pushed around and knew her stuff in professional terms. Someone who won’t let you get away with nothing. However, her dainty physique and conflict-avoiding tendency were clear indications she would be an omega (or beta at best). The moment she connected with the hybrid, clarity rained down on her like a burst of sunlight breaking through the clouds. Her own body erupted in a chorus of sensations, each one clamoring for attention. It was as if every nerve ending had awoken from a deep sleep, demanding to be felt. The omega within seemed to mold itself to her presence, wrapping around her with the natural warmth of a long-lost sibling's affection. Its voice, like a lullaby, soothed tenderly in her ears, caressed her senses, evoking a bittersweet nostalgia. It had waited for her for a lifetime, patiently biding, though she felt as if it had always been there; their destinies entwined for eternity. The connection felt familiar as if it had always been an integral part of her existence, hidden deep within her soul, longing to be seen. A joyous reunion with her inner essence, theirs, rather than a discovery of something new about herself. As her eyes fluttered open, the blinding white light of the hospital room assaulted her vision, her first instinct was to cry. Overwhelmed by the pent-up emotions that had been building within her.

Yet another factor played a role — a negative note. The recognition wasn’t exclusive to her; everyone around her, from the very moment she had awoken as an avatar, had sensed, smelled what she was. And this made it obvious why omegas often experienced such a designation as a condemnation.

Alphas’ attentions may be... excessive.

From a human perspective, Na’vi were naturally intrusive. The concept of personal space between the two species was totally at odds; they were prone to be close, to touch each other, to smell each other. A fundamental part of their socialization techniques. Aubree could have learned to tolerate it as a cultural trait if her alpha-designated colleagues didn’t engage in the same behaviors. They couldn’t help themselves.

“It’s the pheromones,” said matter-of-fact Max, not having any other scientific explanation. Studies on the subject were stalled. Without a vomeronasal organ connected to the brain, or terrestrial examples to refer to, they couldn’t describe the phenomenon. The only thing palpable to both of them, equally inexplicable, was that her wake was inviting. Alphas were almost reduced to a primal state around her. “You should talk to the Tsahìk about this,” Aubree mentally berated herself for not thinking of it sooner. Who better than the Tsahìk, the spiritual leader of the clan and the highest authority among healers, to provide her with the answers she sought? And maybe even help in dealing with the symptoms.

*

The healers’ tent wasn’t large. Quite the opposite, it was indeed small. The room appeared even tinier with the disorganized heap of things stacked on top of each other in a jumbled mess, creating the feeling it could burst at any time. An imminent threat to be fair. However, under scrutiny, one could discern an order in the distribution of the items. To her right, tools of various types and sizes covered the entire wall. To the left, on shelves arranged by color, were terracotta jars filled with powders and ointments. Some were large, others tiny; some had regular shapes, others were bizarre, tongued, or angular. Engraved on the bottom of each were symbols. An early form of writing, considering the People were still oral.

A little further down, the counter ran around the entire interior of the room to the nearest post of mattresses where sicks could rest. Behind the cupboard was the massiest shelf of all. Ampoules, mirrors, rolls of cloth, baskets of bandages, needles, and flowers stuffed somehow. That place was a unique contradiction, ranging from manic order to disturbing chaos. Despite the dimness and the oppressive atmosphere, the tent also emitted a serene, welcoming feeling, akin to the mystical aura of a shaman’s lair.

But one not was out of place. Post-its here and there written in… English? What were post-its doing in the Tsahìk tent? They were so out of context.

“I see the human touch doesn’t go unnoticed.” Aubree gasped, more at the dull sound of something heavy being moved across the counter than the surprise itself. A woman emerged from the myriad of baskets scattered across the floor, placed one on the wooden shelf, and emptied its contents. Her hair, just above her chin, was straight but messy. The tswin, displayed in front of her chest, obscured the huge needle that hung from her slender neck. At every movement, the beads of the intricate shawl that covered her shoulders and breasts jingled, as lively as a child’s laughter. A streaked cerulean complexion set off lemon-yellow irises fixed upon her like those of a cat.

How old was she? Her face appeared youthful, almost adolescent, yet her eyes betrayed wisdom and worldliness far beyond her years.

“You must be Aubree. I was waiting for you to show up.” It seemed as if the healer’s pupils flickered at the sound of her name. The avatar stepped forward. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Kiri te Suli Kireysi’ite, Tsahìk of the Omatikaya.” Acting on impulse, she extended her hand, but when the young woman didn’t shake it, she hastily corrected the gesture into the typical bow of greeting and reverence. She looked amused.

“No need for formality here. We are the same age and are both researchers. We have more in common than you might think.” A smirk curved her plump lips as she put her fists on her sides. “To what do I owe the glee of your visit? I suppose you need to ask me something.” Her sudden remark made her jolt. The Na’vi woman stopped arranging the shelves and turned to look at her with anticipation. “Well?” “I wouldn’t know where to even start. It’s something I don’t fully understand,” she confessed. “Is it related to your dreamwalker body?” She nodded. “But humans cannot help you.” It wasn’t a question, but the scientist nodded anyway. Kiri drew a smile and disappeared behind a curtain that separated the room from the next one — a laboratory. After several minutes, she reappeared with a small box full of tea filters. “Have one in the morning and another in the evening. It’s a suppressant; it will quell your pheromones.”

Aubree blushed furiously. How…?

“I might be just a beta, but your wake is so strong that it knocked me out for a sec. I dare not imagine the effect you have on alphas.” “Not pleasant.” “Much too pleasant, you mean,” she chuckled. “Be careful not to abuse the drug. You wouldn’t want to find out about the side effects. And remember, it is a temporary remedy. Useless on the verge and during estrus.”

Estrus.

The idea hadn’t crossed her mind at all when she accepted her Ph.D. and joined the AVTR Program. She was so thrilled to pursue her dream she would have accepted any job proposal. And who was she to deny she had always felt a fascination about natives? Na’vi estrus cycle was highly articulated and varied by secondary sex designation. Beta females, like humans, had a menstrual cycle and were potentially always fertile, exhibiting no visual, behavioral, or olfactory signals announcing impending ovulation.

Quite a different story for omegas and alphas.

The former went into heat three times a year, about four months between cycles, and could last up to seven agonizing days in the absence of a partner to care for them. This was their peak fertility period. The latter rutted once a year, and the length of the inter-anestrus was unpredictable. In mated pairs wasn’t uncommon for one’s heat to trigger the other’s.

“What should I do when it happens?” “Well, the most natural advice would be to spend it with a playmate, preferably an alpha, as theirs are the only pheromones that have a calming effect on omegas. There is no risk of conception for those who are not mated, so as long as your kuru’s are not entwined, let go.” “Mm, alternatives?” “Lock yourself in a shelter until it ends, away from everyone. But that is the least desirable option. It’s terribly painful to face heat alone.” “I could stay disconnected as long as my avatar is in this state.” “Risking dying of dehydration and starvation in the meantime? Or worse, that some alpha will have fun at your expense?” Kiri hastened to say, noticing the scientist’s horrified expression. “Yes, it has happened, and I assure you that the physical memory of the trauma remains, even if consciousness was not present.” “But I’ll still have to log out myself. My human body needs care, too.” “All the more reason you should find someone to look after you, and quickly. Your first heat is approaching.”

As if that were a small thing.

“My intuition tells me you’ll be fine. Now go. And drink your infusion.” She was about to leave the tent when one last question left Aubree’s lips: “How will I know I’m in heat?” “Oh, trust me, you’ll know.”

She was so absorbed in Kiri’s words that she didn’t even notice the hungry glances she was catalyzing. Especially that of a distinguished man wearing a feathered cloak. The young Olo’eyktan followed her figure as she made her way back to the human outpost until she was swallowed up by the thick undergrowth.

“She doesn’t have a mate if that’s what you’re wondering,” a voice to his left exclaimed. As he turned, he came face to face with the Tsahìk, whose penetrating stare revealed a cunning expression that hinted at a deeper understanding. “I don’t see why this indiscretion of yours should interest me.” “Mm, I don’t know. Seems like she caught your interest.” “Hard to ignore with the trail she carries.” A corner of Kiri’s mouth twitched: Neteyam had just been trapped in the net. “She’s not the first omega with such a scent passing under your nose, but you’ve barely noticed the others.” The young man’s back straightened. “What's your point?” “I’m just surprised. That’s all.”

Neteyam’s gaze was again lost in scanning the spot where the avatar had vanished, lost in a thousand thoughts. Unaware of the bright, wide smile that now graced his sister’s beautiful face. The satisfied smirk of one who sees three moves ahead.

*

Upon entering the research division’s canteen, some may have felt as if they stepped into Goldilocks’ fairy tale. Everything in there was big, big or small, small, except for the stove and tables, which were set at an intermediate height so that both avatars and pilots could use them.

Aubree stared at the teapot brewing the concoction Kiri had given her; her nose stung by the pungent yet fresh smell of nettle wafting from the spout. Carefully, she poured the liquid into a cup without straining — Ingest the leaves — and drank it. Immediately, her throat burned and a tremendous itch seemed to want to tear it open.

Shit, even worse than anticipated.

She took a seat on the plush sofa, its velvety fabric enveloping her frame. As she pressed play on the remote, the screen flickered to life, casting a soft glow on the dimply lit room. Her eyes followed the vivid images of a movie for distraction, but her mind was eaten up by the searing prickle that intensified with each passing moment. The discomfort became all-consuming, shielding her from the outside world, as if the itchy sensations had woven a barrier around her, isolating the woman in her own thoughts. She was oblivious to her colleague’s presence until he sank into the cushions beside her. His arm hung weakly on the backrest, almost brushing against her shoulder. But it was his sudden loud snort that jolted her back to reality. Aubree jumped as she turned to her right and found Jamie. His left knee wedged into his opposite ankle, his foot dangling in her direction. His head rested an inch from the wall, eyes half-closed in a drowsy state.

“You look tired.”

The guy let out a low, rumbling laugh in his typical mumble before replying that he felt like a bulldozer had run over him. Fatigue weighed heavily on him, evident in the strain it put on his distinct British accent. She surreptitiously watched him, taking in the details of his avatar that closely resembled the human it was created from. His gaze remained the same, although his blue irises had now turned a striking shade of yellow. His lips and teeth mirrored the original, except for the canines. When he smiled full-mouthed, two dimples appeared on his cheeks, causing his eyes to crinkle at the corners, as if they were smiling, too. His slightly protruding incisors gave his face a boyish charm, contrasting with his strong, masculine features. He radiated a sense of gentleness.

That last remark had the same effect as lightning illuminating the night. They were conversing freely, as they would have if they were humans.

An alpha and an omega.

Aubree had gotten into the habit of avoiding alphas as much as possible when she was in this body; head down, shy look, walk fast. Never within nose reach. But Jamie did not lose his cool in her presence. He didn’t sniff the air greedily. His gaze didn’t become insistent as it passed over her face. He didn’t moisten his lips endlessly or clench his jaw and fists as if to keep himself from jumping on her. Nor did hold his breath and make excuses, running for his life as he was wont to do.

The suppressor was working!

The success of the next days was enough for the unknown estrus to recede into the background, in the darkest and most hidden place in her head. Who could blame her? Her life was finally back to normal. After all, her avatar's first heat couldn't have been so terrible, could it? Just stick to this simple recipe and everything will be fine, repeated as a mantra.

Remember, it is a temporary remedy. Useless on the verge and during the heat.

Time passed, and days turned into weeks. The taste of the medicine became more tolerable as her throat grew accustomed to its piquant flavor. Even if it wasn’t, the end justified the means. Aubree took the doses with obsessive precision, but after a few months, she noticed the effects wearing off, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it began.  The first warning came in the form of mild dizziness when she logged in, accompanied by a lingering feeling of fever. Then, her appetite waned, alternating with sudden bouts of hunger. Finally, twinges settled in her iliac fossae. She chalked it as harmless PMS, nothing she hadn’t already experienced. Most importantly, not a cause for alarm regarding her host’s performance or health; the hybrid was fully functional.

Wait a minute. Premenstrual syndrome?

As she walked down the hallway leading to the medical area, her mind wandered back to her last period. Her forefinger swiftly navigated the tablet, selecting the calendar app she used to track her menstrual cycle. She was still a long way from the start of the next one, a full two weeks, right in the middle of her fertility window. Maybe I’m ovulating. The symptoms she had been going through lately aligned with that assumption. Breast sensitivity, a slight increase in discharge, heightened lubrication, and libido.

This would have been enough to reassure her, if not for the steady, soft beeping coming from the hospital room, serving as a haunting reminder. Her stare roamed beyond the glass, taking in the circle of Link Units surrounding a pair of desks in the center, a total of eight. It settled on the last station on the far left. Number 3. Her lucky number. Well, not so lucky, given how things were going. The monitor next to it showed the status of the machine, the vitals of the subject inside, the neural activity of the two interconnected brains. The real-time image of the pilot's unconscious face.

Aubree’s face.

And so she realized the symptoms were none other than the avatar's. Ovulation, PMS, cravings were all alarm bells that the heat was near. But who gave her the coup de grâce was Jamie himself.

The guy was running towards her, calling out and weaving, eager for something he was about to share if he didn’t put the brakes on his run. With his palm up to cover his mouth and nose, he said, “Woah Bree... You stink.” His pupils showed a hint of dilation. “It’s time, isn’t it? The suppressant isn’t working anymore.” “Guess so.” “Um, I don’t wanna freak you out or anything, but...” He scratched nervously at the back of his head, no longer holding her gaze. “... if you ever need help dealing with… that. I mean, if I were in your shoes, I’d prefer a friend taking care of me over some random dude. So...” “Thanks, Jamie, for the offer. I know it’s from a genuine interest, and that you’re not trying to take advantage of the situation. I appreciate it, but maybe the Tsahìk can help me out while I’m in the shelter.” “It could last for days.” “I still haven’t come to terms that intercourses are the only way. She's possibly making it sound worse than it actually is.” “Possibly not. Thinking you’ll be locked up somewhere suffering...” "I'll log out for the night," Aubree giggled. “Besides, it would be kinda weird, don’t you think? We work together.” Now he couldn’t help but laugh. “I do science. Stuff like that won't faze me. You better hurry, based on the scent you're giving off, you could be in heat any minute. If you change your mind...” With a last playful wink, Jamie left.

Free to return to her concerns, Aubree’s smile turned into a taut line. She had to find Kiri. Quickly.

*

As she battled the relentless fever, the seemingly endless and overwhelming path to Hometree stretched out before her. Every step was a struggle, her trembling hands clutching onto the rough tree trunks for support. Fatigue weighed heavily upon her, her eyes squinting against the blinding rays of the sun as it dipped below the horizon. The intense heat made her perspire profusely, the dampness seeping through her clothes, clinging to her body like a second skin. She wished she could strip off her garments; the discomfort unbearable. The thought of dying of shame seemed trivial compared to the fire that consumed her from within, leaving her skin burning and blistering. 

Sounds of prolemuris filled the air, their calls echoing through the dense canopy. The heavy, rich, damp bouquet of lush vegetation mingled with the freshness of rain and whiffs of her scent, alerting a hunter nearby to her presence. His senses heightened. With narrowed eyes, he tasted the air, as if savoring a fine wine. The particles rose into his nostrils, painting a vivid image of Aubree in his mind. Her sweet face, adorned with sparkling eyes, and sinuous curves stood out against the dry features of the People. 

As he continued to track her trail, his pupils dilated, his senses enticed by the lingering aroma. Every step he took, he could feel the dampness of the forest floor beneath his feet, the rough texture of the leaves brushing against his fingertips. The air was alive with anticipation, as if holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable. But as quickly as the scent had captivated him, the hunter’s instincts kicked in. He realized that if he could smell her, others could too. The realization sent a shiver down his spine, a reminder of the dangers that lurked in the rainforest. With a determined resolve, he pressed on, his senses alert, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

He left his prey to almost run the distance that separated him from the woman. His omega. The moments it took him to reach her seemed like hours when they were a handful of minutes at most. He found her at the foot of a plant, curled up in a ball, her cheeks stained with tears as she whispered incomprehensible words under her breath. The man staggered, his senses assaulted by the unmistakable pungent smell of her heat stench. A wake so overpowering that left him breathless and struck, unlike anything he had ever smelled before. Teeth gritted and jaw clenched to the breaking point, he bravely advanced towards her, finally falling to his knees. If only he had resisted his natural urges. He could not allow himself to give in. Not him.

With a gentle touch, he cradled her jaw in his palm and soothed her with slow, reassuring strokes along her side, repeating, “It’s alright, it’s alright. You’re safe now. You're not alone; I'm here for you. You’re going to be okay.”  Her cry-streaked face trembled as she whispered, “Please... I can’t take it any longer,” cheeks dampened by an endless stream of tears. “Just take care of it.” He cursed in frustration, powerless that he couldn’t even bring her to his sister. Kiri was assisting a primipara in childbirth. “Please!”  Before taking her in his arms and laying her gently against his chest, the Na’vi sighed, his voice filled with resignation, “Yes, whatever you need.”

Walking backward towards the nearest shelter, he kept his gaze fixed on the path, his piercing eyes fully focused on his surroundings, scanning for any signs of danger. The very direction he had originally come from. Not that anyone could have stood up to him under those circumstances. Regardless of whether he had reached the woman first, no one would have been foolish enough to challenge the clan’s top warrior. 

Groaning, Aubree nuzzled against him, finding solace in the familiar and calming scent that emanated from his skin. Like lowered into a light, peaceful bubble, his soothing alpha pheromones everywhere. An alpha she couldn’t recognize, her vision too blurry, but to whom the omega inside her was singing a serenade. In this foggy confusion, she could only hear the beating of his heart against her ear and the oh-so-big, firm hands holding her up. And though she could not see him, starry eyes appeared in her mind’s eye, looking tenderly at her. 

Her fantasy drifted away, picturing him holding her close, his lips exploring every inch of her body, and their lovemaking leaving her in a state of euphoric surrender. A shiver ran down her spine and made her throbbing quicken at the mere thought of being touched where the tremendous burn concentrated the most. The brush of his lips on her forehead and the tip of her nose made her believe, if only for an instant, that reality had merged with her imagination. His voice lingered in the air, like a gentle gust against her mouth, hinting that they were just moments away from their destination.

Where, she would have inquired, but there wasn’t much room for consistency in her head right now, her perceptions too chaotic to form a coherent question. She would have gone to the ends of the Universe, as long as it meant she could be near him.

Next to her, on her, inside her. Her heart raced with anticipation.

As the hunter laid her down on the mattress and went to fetch water, it was no surprise that her expression crinkled, her eyelids opened slightly, and a low moan eluded her parched lips.

“You need to drink,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern, as he offered out a small bowl. The liquid inside shimmered, reflecting the soft glow of the room. However, she shook her head, causing the contents to spill onto the floor, the sound of the liquid splashing echoing through the silence. A flicker of frustration crossed his face, but it quickly melted away, replaced by a deep-seated worry as he watched her. Her arms opened towards him, inviting him into her embrace. He had never encountered such desperation and helplessness in an omega before. 

Calmly, he laid down beside her, pulling her gently towards him. As he hugged her, she could feel the tension slowly leaving her body. But it wasn’t enough. Aubree craved more, she needed more. And so he leaned in and kissed her. His lips were soft and tender, like a delicate caress. When she bit into them, the taste exploded on her tongue, a blend of sweet honey and warm sunshine. The flavors danced and mingled, delighting her senses. Closing her eyes, she felt a rush of sparks and stars illuminating her mind. His tongue explored her mouth with a gentle touch, mirroring the soothing sensation of his hands as they massaged her tense shoulders.

She felt perfect, cocooned in the strength of his embrace. The soft glow of candlelight danced across their entwined bodies, casting a warm, intimate atmosphere. The warmth of his arms, his faint scent mingled with her own, enveloped her, creating a sweet, comforting haven from the outside world. Yet, an intoxicating sensation filled the air as she nestled against his chest, hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. A soothing melody that resonated deep within her. Every touch, every caress, sent waves of bliss coursing through her body. In this moment, she found solace and contentment, knowing that she had found her rightful place - in his loving arms.

She was exactly where she belonged, complete and fulfilled.

When he let go, she was panting, her lungs desperate for oxygen, her heart pounding in her chest. All she could see were his eyes, lost in darkness. Delighting in her exquisite taste, surpassing his wildest dreams, he pressed his lips against her face and kissed her deeply. The overwhelming passion seemed to consume her, suffocating her with its intensity. He gently moved away, giving her a chance to catch her breath, and as he did, he positioned himself on top of her, taking off the thin t-shirt she had on.

As much as he longed to press his skin against the avatar's, the Na’vi couldn’t help but be drawn to her curvaceous physique, a stark contrast to the ruggedness of his own kind. He took his sweet time to admire her; the naked breasts, the rounder hips, he could not resist stroking them with his fingertips. Aubree’s scent brainwashed him, a slave to the instinct to take her where she was, but in the back of his mind, there was still enough clarity to realize that he was truly amazed by the wonder of the woman before him. He liked her. He really liked her. He had liked her from the first moment he had noticed her, her trail so enchanting that it could not be ignored.

Once again, he yearned to taste her, to hold her. He placed his lips upon every reachable inch, leaving his mark with his intoxicating scent. He lavished attention on her face, caressed her eyes, nibbled on her ears, traced her collarbones, and claimed her neck, burying his nose in her skin, his tongue tenderly exploring the hidden depths behind her shoulder. It was a remarkably sensitive spot, causing her to surrender to pleasure, her corneas tilting backward in ecstasy. The surge of pheromones transformed into a primal growl, resonating deep within her core; uncontrollable shivers coursed through her body. He pressed harder against her hips, releasing a second wave that intensified their connection.

Aubree wrapped her limbs around him, squeezing him in a fervent embrace. The sound of their mingling breaths filled the air as their lips met once more, a symphony of desire. Overwhelmed by the sensation of his body against hers, she reveled in the way he effortlessly fit into the curves of her form. Each kiss and caress he bestowed upon her skin brought a cascade of relief that engulfed her senses.

Through the graceful dance of their bodies, she felt the weight of his longing against her. Every movement spoke volumes of his desire to please her, to alleviate her anguish. As his lips explored her skin, a low, guttural moan escaped her throat, resonating with a mixture of gratification and pain. In the air, a spice of raw passion intertwined with a hint of vulnerability. In his touch, she could sense the depth of his caring, his soulful dominance.

She realized how similar they were: two people subjected to their nature.

Equally desperate, her lungs aching, she reached a trembling hand towards his tail, fingers brushing against the coarse texture of the loincloth. The tightly cinched knot resisted her efforts, causing each tug to reverberate with a faint sound of strained fabric. The hunter, his muscles trembling with anticipation, propped himself up slightly, his breaths mingling with hers in the dimly lit room.

Time slowed to a torturous crawl as he painstakingly unraveled the knot, his fingers working with meticulous precision. The sensation of the fiber slipping through his grasp sent shivers down his spine, a mix of alleviation and frustration intertwining in his chest. The weight of the tewng around his ankles became a physical reminder of the barriers they both longed to shed. Almost on the verge of tears, he yearned for liberation from this confining cloth, craving the proximity and warmth they shared. With a swift motion, he freed himself from the bindings, the garment rustling quietly as it fell to the ground. In an instant, he pulled her back into his embrace, his arms blanketing her with a renewed fervor.

As their bodies tangled, a rush of emotions flooded their senses — the scent of their shared desire hung heavy in the air, mingling with the musky aroma of sweat. The touch of their skin, now unencumbered, ignited a fire that burned with an intensity they could no longer deny.

The scientist loved every moment; his piercing, smoldering gaze fixated on her, lolling in every tender touch, every flattering word, but she reached her limit, and he could sense it. Suddenly, the biting cold dusk shrouded her exposed form. Her garments were violently ripped away, leaving her vulnerable. The icy sensation lasted only a fraction of a second, though, for that was all the time it took for the stranger to plunge into her doused core. His intricate braids tickled against the satin-like skin of her inner thigh. The balmy breeze of his breath danced upon her as she rolled up her sticky legs around his head. “No need for that,” she giggled, her voice trembling. The sharp edges of his canines teased her, causing a playful tingle to spread across her lips. His smile showing both desire and mischief.

With exasperating slowness, he inhaled in a long sniff, his expounded pupils pulsating as they reopened. He dove in to guzzle the juicy nectar at its source, emitting a hoarse moan with the initial sip. She gasped, feeling the vibration against her quivering lips, as a blissful wave rippled through her soul, intensifying her arousal. Gripping her silky hair, he nestled his face, exploring every crevice, nuzzling her thoroughly. His insatiable tongue and eager lips caressed the velvety walls of her intimate entrance, skillfully teasing the supple skin and delicate clitoris. His left hand, loving and firm, cupped her slender ankle, his touch sending shivers up her bone. Slowly, he trailed his hand up her smooth thigh, his fingertips tracing every contour, igniting a fiery anticipation within her. With a whispered whoop, he sank his index into her swollen, drenched core, the wetness coating his digit. There was no resistance, only an overwhelming urge for more. In sync with her ragged sighs, he added a second finger. The sound of their combined panting saturated the air as her grip tightened around his relentless, plunging fingers.

At this point, Aubree was trembling with need as every fiber within her begged to be fucked. The alpha’s dominant pheromones beguiled her, while his languid, deliberate movements captivated her gaze. His hungry eyes, dark and all-consuming held her spellbound by the way he devoured her. The crushed combination of his present and skill left her subdued, infatuated even. As her back arched in pleasure, a primordial scream tore through her open windpipe. Excitement was so intense, a fiery mixture of ecstasy and release so gratifying and flawless,  that her omega felt a devastating love than just heat. In that instant, he hit her G-spot with caustic precision one final time, causing her to pour forth in a torrential climax. A violent, passionate eruption met by the man’s eager mouth, which drank her essence like a thirsty beast.

However, something unexpected happened as the orgasm subsided. Aubree burst into tears.

Copious tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks; wet, hot streaks that burned almost as scorching as the new, unbearable fire festering in her belly. Sobs rang through the shelter as he called her back, holding her tightly in his protective embrace, now curled against his chest seeking consolation. “Shushu... ‘Upe kemwiä? (What is it?).” He murmured, his lips resting on her temples as he futilely wiped away her tear-strained cheekbones. “It doesn’t go away, it doesn’t go away.” She cried, her nails scratching his chest, desperately trying to hold on to something. Her nose rubbed against his rib cage, then his jaw to impregnate him with her perfume, his heart pounding wildly.

In a frenzy of kisses and bites and touches, he let her vent, his digits grazing along her spine, confused by the speed with which the urge had reassembled in her. The Na’vi was confused by the speed with which the itch had reassembled within her. Normally it would take a few hours after such a powerful first orgasm. Time to rest, eat, drink. Aubree badly needed hydration to combat the incessant fever that plagued her and the fluids she was losing.

“Take a moment to rest. You need to drink.” “Screw the water, I want you,” she confessed, her misty eyes fixated on him. They shimmered with unstoppable tears and thirst. Her face flushed with a violent purple. It was the most powerful heat the man had ever witnessed, and he wondered what had triggered it. That it was her first heat? Had the suppressors made her high? It was because of him? The alpha in him reprimanded him with the natural mildness of primal appetites. Just take her, she’s pleading for it. But he shook his head. It wasn’t him. He was better than that. He had been raised to care for others, not to use them. Alphas protect, that was what gave them purpose; he would do anything to protect his mate, even from herself.

Even though she wasn’t technically his mate.

Despite not being bonded in the traditional sense, their connection was undeniable. Aubree, unbeknownst to her, held a special place in his heart from the very moment they met. It was clear from the start that this outcome was unavoidable. Calling upon anything that could keep him sane, he held some sort of energy drink under her nose. “Näk (drink).” The omega sounded at this command. It was as if by speaking in his native language, he was able to assert himself a thousand times more forcefully, even if she didn't get his words. The omega knew for both of them. “Can you do this for me? Drink this and I'll give you everything you want.” She had never heard anything more beautiful. She swelled the entire contents in one gulp, her head dizzy from the sudden amount of sugar. She fell back between the pillows with a quickening pulse, even if he was stroking her hair comfortably. The fall brought a fresh whiff of her needy wake, filling the entire hut as well as his nostrils. Instinctively, the hunter took a deep breath. A breath, that stopped halfway as his brain registered the source of the trail between the woman’s legs. A shimmering fountain that caused him to let out a guttural roar of defeat. He was so weak to her.

As he settled between her groin, the tip of his erection brushed against the warrior’s waistband, still clinging to his torso. The only garment Aubree had allowed him to keep.  The sight of him, breathtakingly elegant and athletic, thanks to Eywa’s mercy, overshadowed the idea of how many other omegas had the privilege of having him inside them before her. But now he was all hers. That thought alone ignited a fresh wave of excitement to blossom. He pressed his full weight onto her, and she wasted no time running her hands over his taut, strong, muscular back. Every contour, every sinew, was exquisitely formed and enticing under her touch. The closeness they shared, their bodies pressed against each other, sent a thrill through her. He smelled so damn good, hard and bothered for her. The way he responded to her advances only heightened her desire, flaring up a foreign heat in her veins, surpassing even her own natural instincts.

His shaft, long and thick, glided inside her, stealing her a gasp as he filled her in one fluid motion. Pleasure trembled through her, evident in her labored breathing and tightened walls. The barriers of her depths easily acclimated to his divine cock, satisfying even her smallest wishes. It was almost embarrassing to realize how every aspect of him was designed to please her — the texture of his body, the touch of his skin, the taste of his lips, the sound of his voice, his tantalizing scent.

She couldn’t help it and was somehow ashamed of her weakness. Her intimacy clenched at some point, in response to the blows he gave her, the few but deep sounds he made. So securely he gasped at the faint pain before rushing to her mouth in a ferocious kiss. Demanding, needy. He bit and pulled at her lip, pushing his tongue to lick the arch of hers, to suck her teeth, making her vibrate around him.  Had she mentioned that his lips were amazing? Yes, she had, but who cared? She would have repeated over and over again how unworldly they melded with hers in such a sublime way that they would have stunned her if she weren’t for the crazy pheromones already. Aubree didn’t even know who this man was. Her senses tangled, preventing her from recognizing his face or voice, despite a nagging suspicion of familiarity. Her mind sporadically focused before touch or smell overpowered it. Now taste. His lips felt like fresh fruit, sweet and full-bodied. She would have spent hours luxuriating in them, but the impression she was about to burst grew and grew, driving and unbearable.

She moaned uncontrollably as the Na’vi drew back his hips until only the tip rested against her core to thrust again before effortlessly thrusting again. Each new point of contact stung inside her. The avatar felt an insatiable desire to take all of him, to never let go. Her heart filled with euphoria — little bites, caresses, kisses ran through her body, which now smelled like his. She tugged at his hair as he made his way back to her mouth, her wet thighs encircling his waist, her heels nestled in the dimples of Venus. Clinging to him as if the contact of his epidermis, his chest, his arms weren’t enough. She craved more. Their hearts pounded in unison, like furious galloping horses, their passion untamed. “Tsahey, sı`ltsan’efu (oh hell, feels good),” he grunted, his timbre low and gravelly. Kind of a dirty move whispering praise in Na’vi into her ear. His words danced to the tips of her toes from the dull joy it gave her to feel appreciated, as the sound of their frames colliding echoed in the hut, a symphony of lust and devotion. Her cries grew shrill, a melodic chorus that fueled his every thrust. He was so hot, his skin flushed and glistening with sweat, as he moved faster, the friction intensified, sending sparks shooting through all of her body. Aubree clasped her legs around his waist, hankering for everything he offered. His grip on her shoulders steadied, his fingers digging into her skin. The force of his thrusts increased, each one hitting her with a mix of pleasure and pain. Her nails dragged along his back, leaving red trails in their wake.

The man rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingled; his lukewarm exhales covering her face and his ears full with her gasps. The smell of their passion hung heavy in the small space, a heady mixture of steam and need. He watched her in both ecstasy and disbelief. The sight of such intensity in his gaze overpowered her, but she clung to it, relishing every moment when his dick struck a sensitive bundle of nerves.

As she felt his knot dwell, alpha pheromones crept into her subconscious, drowning her omega in the musky aroma of dominance and submission, an exhilarating fog that pushed her further into surrender. The place seemed to darken as her soul naturally responded to him; her pulse hastening with trepidation. Each frantic gasps for oxygen a struggle against the sweeping emotions. She had no choice but to capitulate, to cry out for him. It felt as if her very DNA had been written to covet him, to lock him inside, but the native held her back, prolonging the exquisite torture.

“That’s not a good idea. It’s your first time.”

A new growl escaped her windpipe, vibrating hungry rage. A rumble that allowed no response, a warning that made him bend his ears back and sink to the point of no return. His stare fixed on her with a longing that knew no bounds. Now only orgasm could free him from her clutches. His expression seemed pained, a flicker of hesitation, but it lasted only a second before the most animalistic and savage sounds she had ever heard rose from the back of his throat. The researcher bit his neck to stifle a moan louder than the others, desperate to repress the burden that threatened to consume him. The last thing she wanted was for him to stop for concern of hurting her. He gasped, his grip on her hips toughening as he plunged more fervently, the rhythmic slapping of their bodies reverberating through the room.

“Don’t ever come out. Stay in forever,” she stammered in confused, fading whimpers. His reaction was harsh, his hips digging with such force that the knot scraped hard against her walls, inducing her to writhe in ecstasy. “Nga tsun ke pawm fula tsonta oe… Nga zir fìtxan tsìltsan (You can’t just ask me that… You feel so amazing).” His voice strained with lust. In response, the woman gyrated her hips even deeper against him, moaning with abandon until he filled her completely. His burning seed spread inside her, as he released a final wave of pheromones that triggered an orgasm so powerful it knocked her unconscious — her frame succumbing to the overwhelming fulfillment that exhausted her. “Are you okay?” He kissed her temple, but she could barely nod, still breathless. “Good.”

Amid that swirling sea of dizzying, carnal lechery, the Na’vi caught a whiff of her enticing trail, drawing him in like a magnetic force. He twisted her neck gently, planting kisses and licks behind her ear, where it released all sorts of fragrances that blended with the aftermath of their passionate encounter. Aubree shivered, her skin tingling as he grazed his teeth over her sensitive flesh. The aroma of her essence intensified here, so potent it could dance on his tongue, so tantalizing to explore further.

As he indulged in a small taste, her partner’s presence surged within her; his dick twitched, and automatically her inner walls throb around him. Just as her apprehension grew, fearing his bite, his lips found her ear where he murmured: “Don’t be afraid. I won’t mark you until you ask me to.”

Suddenly, a clarity washed over her, as if the dense intoxication of hormones had dissolved, leaving her lucid in its wake. The researcher pushed her lover away, panic coursing. Her narrowed eyes hinted at a revelation, now that she could finally name the alpha who had guided her in her very first heat, still mating with her with a satisfied and dangerous grin.

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan. Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya.

Her eyelids suddenly grew heavy. Aubree fought not to close them, but with each blink it became harder and harder to keep them open. She felt his fingertips brush the hair from her face, then caress one cheek as he lowered himself to place a light kiss on her forehead.“Hahaw, ma’uniltı`ranyu. Nga kin ne tsurokx. Tätxaw ngeyä tawtutetokx. Oe veaywng nga kay sìn. (Sleep, my dreamwalker. You need to rest. Return to your human body. I’ll take care of you from now on).”

Special thanks to @pandoraslxna for the prompt!

@neteyamssyulang @layla2-49

[kombuuuu]

gwen romantic hcs or scenario please? 🥺🤲

Spidery Romance.

Gwen Stacy x Fem!Reader

another bunch of headcanons (and snippets, ur favs) with my favourite girl 🤍

GWENNBBBBB MMMWMAH HHHNG WEBEWEBWEEEHHHH

Gwen: Blue

You: Pink

Dad Stacy: Black

A cat..: Purple

mom friend this, mom friend that

how about just mommy?

is a HUGEE comfort roll in the realtionship

will do little things for you that you wouldn’t even realise

like keeping random containers because she knows you like them

jars 🫙 🤍‼️

she loves taking care of you, loves being who you go to for things

it makes her feel needed, which we know she struggles with

so she loves a partner who’s more co-dependent, like she is

“Baby?”

“Help.”

“Honey, what am I supposed to do with that?”

“Open it, please“ :(

“Oh, you sweet thing… What are you going to do with an empty pickle jar.”

“You’ve eaten all the pickles?”

“I’m… going to grow an ecosystem.”

ABSOLUTELY steals shit for you

she’s not rich, seeing as she doesn’t exacccctly live in her own universe

hey, star crossed lovers are multiversel..

so she steals

just nicks things from the mall she thinks you’ll like

little trinkets or anything small and shiny she can find

also cat figures

small, cute cats. she loves anything about them and will go out of her way to take em for you

(you think she just wants to deny the fact she loves the cats. or stealing)

your OWN little klepto cat

(you both love that game)

“Hey, Sweets.”

“Oh-! You’re home!”

“And I brought a cat.”

*gasp* “What breed !!”

“No clue, but look it’s tail moves.”

Will take you out to movie dates any time she can.

never really knew how to treat a lady so she takes notes from stupid eighties shows

will throw rocks at your window

or climb up the tree next to your house and break in even though she could just go thru the front door.

buys (steals) chocolates in heart shapes and roses to decorate your bed

it’s not even valentines she just wants too

don’t forget the candles and scented bath salts with a whole ass spa set up in your bathroom

“Baby? Wh—“

“[Name]! I missed you.”

“I missed you too, babe.”

“What are the flowers for?”

“Our anniversary’s not ‘til September.”

“Beautiful, we don’ need a reason. Just wanna appreciate you.”

smile and giggle like a little bitch? of course you will

Will eventually tell you about her spider woman endeavours

she’s guilty of hiding it from you

when you trust her so much

slipping out of your shared bed at night to go patrol feels

dirty.

She finally caved to her subconscious and spills it

you don’t freak out on her but she can tell you’re stressed

she tries to comfort you even when you have to opportunity to ruin her life

you could end it between the two of u right then and she’d forgive you

but not herself

“I’m spider-woman.”

“What?”

“The hero, [Name]. Well, vigilante I guess—“

“What the hell.”

“Baby, please. I know I should’ve told you sooner—“

“Do you know how much danger you’re in? Are you crazy? What happens if you get hurt and I’m not here? Fighting crime like that. Fighting villains.”

“I know, sweet girl, I know.”

she comforts you through it while you basically have an existential crisis in her name

you’re more scared she’s going to get hurt

or worse

than you are betrayed,

you can get why she kept this a secret

it takes you a couple week to hone down the worrying

gwen is hella patient with you 🫶

“I don’t like this. You’re putting yourself in harms way, and it’s careless,”

Guilty stare

“,But i’m not gonna stop you.”

“Thank you, [Name].”

“Please don’t die on me.”

“I won’t, baby.”

and when your finally calm you can kind of see the appeal in it

she convinces you to let her swing you around the city

and despite you both knowing you’re probably gonna pass the fuck out

you agree cause it’s cute

“Gwen.”

“Yeah baby?”

“I think—, maybe you don’t understand what I mean by ‘I don’t like heights’.”

“Wh— Oh.”

“What d’yu mean ‘Oh.’?!! You only just realised??”

“I come up here so often, it’s like a second thought!”

“It’s the fucking Empire state!”

“Ehh…”

She’ll take you nice places around brooklyn

mostly high up

to let you see the view

and to finally see you in it

she draws you any chance she gets

especially when she takes you to those places

shes been to em so often that she’s got muscle memory for the line to every building, but now she gets to trace the contour of your face around it too

will web you to the building if you ask

just so you won’t fall

“You know there’s not a single universe where I wouldn’t catch you, right.”

“There’s a first for everything,”

She snorts “Sugar—“

“I love you, Gwen. And trust you with my life. I do not, however trust wind.”

“Understandable, love you too.”

When you meet her dad he’s a little skeptical at first

only because you’re so nervous and he’s taught to be suspicious as a cop

but eventually he likes you, and you him

your both like old pals and it confuses gwen

he takes on a very fatherly position in your life

one you missed out on

gwen is ecstatic

the two people she loves the most in the world like each other

the stars aligned for her

she tells you about her struggles with him and is glad it doesn’t affect either of your relationships

“Do you treat my daughter well?”

“Dad, please.”

“Gwen, it’s okay. I’d like to think I am, sir.”

“Cause if you hurt my little girl, everything you do to her will feel a lot worse for you.”

“Dad!”

“I would never hurt your daughter Mr.Stacy, I love her. It’d be stupid of me to let her go.”

He smiled and clapped your back

*groan* “Why.”

she likes to keep you comfy

kinda has a thing for the housewife vibe

so she’s willing to do a lot for you

she’ll notice how empty it is in your house when she’s not there

it’s quiet and lonely

so totally for you (and not also her)

she’ll get you a cat

a small black american bobtail

she had found him while on patrol

saw a box left littered at the park and decided to pick it up

closer she got, more ‘mews’ she heard.

when she saw a short, stumpy looking kitten in the box

her heart melted

so obviously she took it

“For [Name].”

‘mew :3’

“Co-parenting practice.”

‘mmrp’

“God damn it.”

loves the cat with her whole heart

and so do you

you name it Peter

he’s adopted but he doesn’t need to know that

when he does something bad you threaten (emptily) to put him in back out in the street

“Go get a box, Peter. I’m gonna make your momma put you back where she found you.”

“He can’t understand you, baby.”

“Yes he can, look at how he’s looking at me!”

“See his face!? He’s so mocking me!”

:3

“Sure, baby.”

—

EEE 🤭🤭🤭

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

More Nimona headcanons because these dorks have taken over my brain

I feel like Nimona tried really hard to hate Ambrosius

The first month they knew each other Nimona tried so hard to antagonize him and poke fun at him and remind him of the shit he’s done wrong 

But it’s kind of hard to hate someone who’s slow to anger and quick to forgive 

Reminding someone of their past mistakes with the intent to hurt them kind of stops being fun when the person is constantly aware of their mistakes 

And owns up to them without making excuses and is constantly trying to undo the damage their mistakes caused  

After a while, he grows on her and she starts to trust him and in return he trusts her

This one is based heavily on me and my best friends 

Nimona and Ambrosius will talk shit loudly in public 

They won’t use code names and if they don’t know the person they’ll start describing them like “Did you see that dude in the yellow shirt? He just pushed that kid out of line what a dick!”

They won't check to see if the person is out of earshot either they simply don't give a fuck

And this gives Bal so much fucking anxiety enough that he starts pleading with them to stop

You hear them going off about something and Bal saying “Ambrosius love hun sunshine I’m begging you to keep your voice down” 

“Nim Nimona starlight hi I would like to remind you that they’re still behind us and I don’t want to explain to Ambrosius why you’ve gotten into another fight this week so please stop” 

To which Nimona responds with “Tell him he’ll probably laugh”

Whenever Nimona and Ambrosius want to rant they rant to each other 

Because Bal is the type of person to give advice in the middle of a rant 

Talking some “If you explain this to them in a calm and compassionate manner I’m sure they’ll stop”

And while that's excellent advice sometimes you just want to scream your most unhinged thoughts at someone 

And they never judge each other either 

Nimona can look Ambrosius dead in the eyes and go “Have you ever gotten so angry during an argument that you’ve considered lighting their car on fire?” 

And Ambrosius won't even think about it he’ll respond immediately with a “Who hasn't?” while Bal slowly backs out of the room and silently vows to hide his car the next time they fight 

Whenever Ambrosius comes home from a stressful day at work he just walks into the house and lets out the most dramatic drawn out sigh 

And whenever Nimona hears that noise they’ll run to the living room and sit on the couch patiently waiting for their daily rant session 

Whenever Nimona gets home and wants to rant he’ll walk around until he finds Ambrosius

And if he can't find him he’ll sit by Bal and stew in his anger while he waits for him to come home 

He can't even take one step through the door without Nimona saying something like “How dare you make me wait” 

And Ambrosius will always respond with something like “Oh I’m so sorry firecracker it’ll never happen again”

And encourage them to tell him the information they’ve been patiently waiting to spill

Bal doesn’t rant unless he’s literally at the end of his rope

Like you have to royally screw him over for him to go home and rant to his family 

When he finally rants to them they don’t make a big deal out of it 

But they do however try their best to take care of him without raising his suspicions 

Nimona will conveniently make Bal’s favorite dinner 

Ambrosius will just so happen to pick up his favorite dessert on his way home (cause they both know the signs of a Bal rant and they plan accordingly) 

They listen to his rant and let him eat his favorite food in peace while they play his favorite movies 

You know real wholesome shit 

All the while they’re coming up with plans in their head to destroy this person's life

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter XII : Venus

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: I realized shortly after posting chapter 11 that I’d made a small mistake in the timeline I’m intending this to follow. I included a line from Din saying Paz had already tried to take the Darksaber from him and failed, but where we’re at now, chapter 5 of The Book of Boba Fett hasn’t happened just yet. So I’ve gone back and deleted that small detail from the previous chapter, and why am I even telling you this, idk, but if you guy could do me a solid and pretend to forget my fuck up, I’d love you forever for it. 

Writing Star Wars is hard

Also, the indomitable @dirtysouvenir has rendered the most gorgeous artwork imaginable of Din and Sithy, and I still can’t quite believe my eyes every time I look at it. Everyone please go show Jonis all the love and praise she deserves. 

Anyways… like always, forgive me for the wait. I love you all for being so patient with me. And shout out to chapter four of Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband which served as inspiration for this. You will always be famous to me!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

Tip Jar

CHAPTER XII : VENUS

What are we doing here, and why are our hearts invisible?

Anne Carson, Kinds of Water

“Just like that, yes. Good girl–keep doing what you’re doing.” His hand slides to circle your wrist, leather and the thick weave of your tunic, the slight shake of your nerves caught between. “Grip it firmly, but squeeze it gently. Yes– yes, good. You’re doing so well.”

You suck in a trembling breath, too hyper aware of the feel of his chest plate brushing against your back, the cap of his left knee gently bumping the back of your own, his arms wrapped in a loose and careful cage around your frame where he’s helping you direct the blaster at the target he’d set up several meters away for practicing. He’s got one of your wrists wrapped in the leather of his fist, the other cupping the underside of your elbow to keep your shaking arms steady. 

“I don’t know why I’ve never been very good at this,” you whisper over the sound of the burning desert winds lashing you in the brow. “It’s just never come very easy.”

“That’s alright. That’s why we’re practicing again.” The hand cupping your elbow moves slowly to your waist, all his handling of you these past few days has been so intentional, cautious and patient and aware of himself and you and your reactions. Your heart beats, thumps and thumps hard enough to make you a little dizzy, a little sick. “Keep your right arm firm, but fluid. Try not to lock your elbow, let the recoil move through you steadily.”

He’d covered your hair and face in soft white linen wraps to keep you from being scorched by the sun and sand, and his voice is so deep, head pitched low so that the modulator is vibrating right at the level of your ear, the sounds of him sluicing through the linen to curl around your ear. You shiver again, squeezing your fist too tight around the butt of the blaster. You’d asked him if he’d help you practice just before you’d made planet fall a few hours ago, and now here the two of you are. A few clicks outside of Mos Eisley, he’d found a cluster of sandstacks to land the Crest amidst for a couple hours of target practice—near an area he’d told you is called Beggar’s Canyon. 

You’re not sure if it’s just an excuse to have him touch you, but here you are now, in the circle of his arms, shivering with nerves and heat and want. The sun burns, but the places where he grips you burn worse, and your heart rings in your skull. 

“Focus your gaze between the eyeline, eventually, it’ll come naturally, your aim, but for now, use the field the blaster sets. Squeeze gentle–” He grips your now healed elbow firmly, anchoring your arm, the hand holding your wrist moves to your waist, securing you in his hold so that when you pull the trigger, the zing of the blaster bolt leaving its chamber moves through your limb, into your chest cavity, electrifying your heart, and his hold is steadying all the way through. He’s there to keep you up, keep you strong, and so it’s almost thoughtless when you do it, a gut instinct or some muscle inside your brain desperate to flex and stretch or come awake because faster than you can blink or think, you take hold of that bolt of plasma with your mind, freezing it midway between where the two of you stand and the target he’d set. 

You feel his hands flex around you, but he keeps still and silent, watching, waiting for what you’ll do next. And your heart beats faster and faster, the bright of the sun gleaming and nauseating, refracting off the sand, the plasma, your eyes. The bolt screeches and writhes and defies the laws of nature by your hand, and it does not feel good, but it does feel right. 

The first time you’ve really wielded the Force since the night you escaped. 

There’s something painful and uncomfortable and familiar about it coming back to you. Your breath goes fast within your chest, the taste of the desert on your tongue and the grit of sand sneaking beneath your clothes, sweaty line of anxiety down your spine, and his steady, calm breaths up against your back every other moment, this power inside of you that’s always been the cause of everything bad and only some things good. It vibrates in everything, moves through all living things, the Force, within you, within him. 

“Let it go, cyare. It’s okay if you miss.” You shut your eyes and let it fall away and now it’s not the Force or you or anything else, it’s only him keeping you up against the rest of everything. 

The two of you, like grief and the mountain. 

-

“How did you meet this woman again?” You ask for about the third time, seemingly unable to keep your mouth shut and your nerves to yourself. 

“She’s been keeping up maintenance on the Crest for a while now. And she helped out with the kid, watched him for me a couple times—I trust her.”

“Peli,” you repeat the name contemplatively, taking in the sight of him as he checks the pre-landing codes, flipping switches and punching toggles a little too roughly. He’s agitated, covered and swathed in it. You know he’s worried about you, the way you’ll feel being around someone else, scared you’re still feeling fragile or tired or weak. And you’re accepting it for now because you are. You are tired and you do feel fragile and you do need taking care of. If only for the time being, if only for a little bit longer. A sort of end feels very near, and you’re still working out what that such end is going to be. 

“Peli,” he sighs, hitting the last button and finally swiveling in his chair to face you, and you eye him suspiciously, you know that sigh and head tilt. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Not tired?”

“No.”

“Your shoulder?”

Hurts. “Fine.”

“Cyar’ika.”

“Din.” Another sigh. Another shake of his head. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes at you beneath that stupid lug of metal he wears on his fat head. But you hope that he’s smiling too, and you give him a soft, small one of your own, twisting your fingers together tightly in your lap. You want to reach out for him, to go to him and sit with him and kiss him again like the other day. But you don’t feel ready again. Again, fragile, tired, a weakness of heart within you that you can’t understand the source of, or you can, but you don’t want to accept it, you want to be able to move on, to get over it, to be like you once were. But that you also know he’ll let you feel for as long as you need to.

“I promise I feel okay, and that I’ll tell you if I don’t.” The target practice had left you tired and awake, and there is something moving inside of you—a recognition of sorts you can’t pinpoint exactly, but which you know is going to show or tell you something about yourself soon, the Force, the things you’d done or the things you’d do. And there’s patience too, a waiting, a readiness to receive whatever this would be without pressure or urgency. You feel entirely strung tight, a knot about to be set loose, entirely at ease, as well. Something strange about the anxiety you carry within yourself, like it doesn’t really matter much anymore and is only waiting for the right moment to be expelled. 

He gives a soft grunt and turns back to face the control panel. The rolling golden sands of Tatooine like an ocean before you, and then there in the distance, the littered smattering of sand blighted little buildings that make up the spaceport of Mos Eisley. He directs the Razor Crest towards Hangar three-five, the ship jostling with the lowering of the landing gear. 

“What if she doesn’t like me?” You ask nervously, following him down the ladder once he’s eased the ship into the landing bay, fretting over this ordeal of having to meet someone else from his life, a friend, which wasn’t even something you were aware he knew how to have. You hear the heavy thud of his boots against the durasteel, and then his hands are circling your waist and pulling you down the rest of the way, paying no mind to your indignant squawking. 

He’d been strange with his touch, as well. As if he couldn’t help himself some moments, overcome by habit and familiarity, and then afraid and cautious in others. And you can’t understand how you feel about this either. Grateful, a sort of soft that makes your eyes smart and your cheeks bleed with heat. He’s so aware of you, so aware of what you might want or need, but then overcome, as well, needing you, wanting you. And you feel so afraid you won’t be able to give him those things—the ones he wants or needs, that you won't be able to find your way back to the way things had been between the two of you before. 

“You’ll be fine,” he says, little compassion to be found for your fretting. You stick your tongue out at the back of his head, rolling your eyes and steeling yourself as he lowers the hatch, and a chirpy little voice calls, Mando!

The plank lowers, and lowers, and lowers, and finally, a mess of springy dark curls come into view. The small woman, Peli, claps her hands excitedly and spreads her arms in wide welcome of him, and something in your heart throbs. 

A friend, indeed. 

“Peli,” he greets her, heavy, swaying gate stomping down the gangplank, voice serious and not all matching her enthusiasm. You roll your eyes at him again as the reverberations of his steps tickle your feet through the soles of your boots. 

“Hey, look everyone! It’s Mando,” she says to the chittering droids whirring around her. You follow him slowly, slinking directly behind him so that the breadth of his shoulders conceals you for a second longer before, “And who do we have here? Another unlikely companion?” 

He pivots, letting you step into full view and brave shyness, a hand coming up to hover around your waist, urging you forward, but not actually touching you. The sound of your name rings in tune to the thump of your heart through the modulator. Careful, so careful, and it makes you hurt at your own self. Wanting to touch you one moment, unable to stop himself from ripping you into his arms; another, afraid, feeling like he can’t even put a gently motioning hand on your body, and how will you ever fix this? How are you going to ever be able to get the two of you back to where you were? 

You take a hurt little step away from him, swallowing the heat in your throat several times before you can force a smile onto your face. 

His body shifts and sways towards your retreating one. 

But the small woman steps towards you, pit droids spinning and skittering frantically around her, and she claps a work hewn hand on your shoulder. “Let Peli take a good look at you.” Her gaze is cheerful, full of a youthfulness that belies her age and an even more cheerful, gap toothed smile. “Pretty girlfriend, Mando.” She waggles her bushy brows up at him. “Brought me another set of bright eyes, didn’t’cha?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peli.” Your throat feels humiliatingly tight when she takes your hand in her smaller one, giving it a swift shake, no gentleness about the way she handles you, and there’s something comforting about the forsaking of the kid gloves. Your fracture isn’t obvious for the whole world to see, there’s still normalcy to be found for you. 

She looks up at Din as you avoid his burning gaze, laughing scowl on her sunny face. “Who woulda thought you had it in, ya, huh?” She thumps a fist on his chest plate, shaking her head and moves to take a look at the Crest. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Chasing down some elusive bounty? Carbon scoring’s worse than last time.'' She chatters a million miles a minute, pulling out some sort of electric scanner, assessing the old gunship. 

“We had a long trip,” he sighs, hands fisted on his hips as he watches her impatiently, turning his gaze back to your face every few moments. You want to bare your teeth at him in a snarl and tell him to stop fucking worrying. You want him to take you into his arms or hold your hand. 

“Long trip, sure. That’s what he always says,” she tells you over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes. “Turns out it’s usually a gun fight or something just as idiotic.”

You snicker, enjoying the easy way she handles your Mandalorian’s surliness, grateful for the cheerful buffer she provides between your own internal angst and his overzealous worrying. “It was a long trip this time, I swear. We’re coming from the Core,” he grumbles, and the two of you follow her while she inspects the damage on the ship, and in a moment of bravery or desperation for normalcy or closeness or just him, you reach up to grip two of his thick fingers in your fist. His hand immediately adjusts and curves to wrap around yours, intertwining your fingers and taking you securely in his grip. You feel him turn to look down at you questioningly, but you refuse to look back. This is normal, this is how it should be, this is what feels right even if you need the barrier of his gloves to feel like you can breathe. 

“The Core! Long way’s.” Hmm, she muses as she goes. “Got a fuel leak.” Again. He huffs. “Taking a vacation now?” She turns back with another smarmy smirk. 

“Something like that.”

“Nice little honeymoon?” She teases. “I could use one of those myself.” She scans something else, and the pit droids chatter and chirp around her, almost full her height, she’s so small. 

“Peli–” he grumbles. Your grumpy, shy boy; you wonder if he ever blushes under that thing, squeezing his hand in yours as tight as you can. 

“Yeah, yeah. No droids, I know. When are you gonna get over that nonsense, huh Mando? It’s about time, you know!” She bends to inspect something closer near the landing gear, covered in carbon scoring here too, examines her scanner again, then clips it back to her utility belt. “Alright, here’s the deal–” But he cuts her off, pivoting while pulling his blaster in one fluid motion to shoot at a poor little droid that's gotten too close. “Hey! Hey! What’ve I said before? You damage one of my droids, you’ll pay for it!” She shouts. 

“Din–” you scold, gripping the thick of his arm to pull the weapon down. 

“What’ve I told you?” He barks. 

“No droids. No droids. Blah, blah. You have got to get over that! I’m tryn’a make a deal with you here, ya womp rat.”

He jerks aggressively towards another little droid that wanders too close, sending it skittering away in terror, and you pinch his arm beneath the thick duraweave, frowning up at him, be nice, when he looks down at you, giving him a jut of your eyebrow and thrusting your chin at Peli. He groans, cursing low and grumpy in Mando’a. “Fine. What’s the deal?”

“If you let them work on the Crest–” She jerks her chin at the little pit droids quivering behind the crates strewn about the hangar in abject terror of the mean Mandalorian. 

“No,” he cuts her off, stubbornness in every line of his frame. 

“Din!” You scold again, bumping your hip into his. 

“Come on, Mando! I’ll charge you half price–”

“Deal,” he cuts her off again immediately, the cheapskate. 

“Ha!” She hoots and claps loudly. “Droids! Get to work on this lovely man’s ship. Lemme see the cash.” She holds out a grubby palm, wiggling her fingers. “He’s pretty easy, you ever notice that?” She says to you conspiratorially. 

“Constantly,” you can’t help the laugh in your voice. Your first laugh in what seems like years. 

“Loose knickered is what they used to call it back in my day.” And you have to turn your face into his arm to muffle your cackling, listening to him start up another string of curses beneath the helmet.

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that before, ever,” he mutters sullenly. 

“Well, you’re young.”

“Not that young,” you provide helpfully, big cheesy smile that feels slightly unnatural and rusted spreading across your face. 

“Whoopee, Mando! I like this one! You really do know how to pick ‘em.” She claps him roughly on the shoulder, her little paw slapping loudly against his pauldron. “Anyway, I’ve got somewhere to be for the next couple of days, you see. I’m dating that Jawa again—the one I’d told you about,” she announces, proud as anything, big smile across her leathery face.

“A Jawa?” You repeat, making sure you heard right. 

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, bright eyes. They’re quite furry… very furry, but…” She clicks her teeth together, “You know…” Grins. 

You look up at Din, squeezing his arm in your grip. “Guess I gotta try it.” You’re pretty sure you hear him grumble something to the effect of over my dead body, before he’s agreeing to Peli’s deal with a clap and a shake, and the promise of two hundred and fifty Imperial credits and absolutely no harm done to her droids while she’s gone and they work on the Crest. 

“Treadwell, get in there!” She shouts, and the little pit droid chirps fretfully, trembling behind an R5 unit. “You can’t say no, you’re a droid. Oh, he’s not going to shoot you. Stop being a coward! What is this, a democracy all of a sudden?” Losing the fight, the droid wheels forward to get to work. “Yeah, thought so.” She turns back to you and Din. “You two can stay here, look after the shop while I’m gone? It’ll only be a few days.”

“We have some resupplying to do, but we’ll stay until you’re back,” he promises.

“And you’re not going to shoot my droids?”

“And I’m not going to shoot your droids,” he agrees, but later, you catch the too rough nudge he gives one of the little droids with his boot when he thinks no one’s watching. This man and his droid complex, you roll your eyes. 

“How’s the N-1 keeping up?” He asks as she’s packing up to go. 

“Just how you left her. That honey’s faster than a fathier. You should take her out while you’re here, give that baby a spin. Oh! And I added that turbonic venturi power assimilator I’d mentioned before. Remember? S’how I reconnected with my Jawa,” she nudges you with a wink. “You’re gonna be the fastest ship on the Outer Rim.” 

“You got a new ship?” You ask curiously.

“Just a side project we took up while I had some spare time.” But the way he says it is a little strange, making you pause to look up and try to read the blank face of his helmet. Ah, and he smooths that same hovering hand from before along the line of your spine, an attempt to soothe or quell your curiosity without actually giving you the gift of his touch.  

Peli leaves a few hours later, and she really does have a Jawa lover. The little critter comes to collect her right before the suns set, off to catch the sandcrawler before it journeys off into the desert, leaving you alone with only Din and the little pit droids for company. 

And suddenly, that shyness from earlier is back for some reason. The distraction of travel and the buzz of hyperspace lost to the calm silence of the quiet spaceport as the suns set over the horizon and night settles in, cool winds coming in on the sand gusts from deep in the desert. After hours of work, Din posing as the menacing overlord barking orders and complaints, intruding on their work when it isn’t up to his ridiculous standards, the droids finish up for the night, and Din engages the hangar security system, and then the ship’s, locking the two of you in safely for the night. 

“Dinner?” He asks as he moves slowly around the hull, pulling the cloak from his shoulders, a river of sand sluicing in a rain sheet onto the steel floor. The sound of it has a shiver moving through you as you lower yourself to the floor, crossing your legs beneath you at the edge of your makeshift bed. You desperately want to crawl between the covers without a shower and find the peace of evasion through sleep, secure in the knowledge that he won’t follow you into bed. He’d refused since you’d reunited, even though you’d invited him several times to share the much more comfortable pile of blankets than what you know his pilot’s chair or bunk provide. He’d not taken you up on the offer yet, and right now, fluttering heart and hot eyes and sweating nape, you’re glad for it. 

You don’t know what’s wrong with you—or you do. You’re overwhelmed with want and fear, of him, of his touch, of having lost what the two of you had before. And as you watch him start to pull his armor from his body, first one pauldron, then a vambrace, then a thigh guard, no sense of congruity to the pattern with which he divests himself of his Creed, it’s suddenly like he’s standing right in front of you, and yet you miss him anyway. Miss him in a way that makes you sick and devastated. 

You must make some sort of sound, a funny look on your face or a change in your breathing because he turns suddenly, a too worried, “What’s wrong?” on his tongue. 

“Nothing.” You look up at him from your spot on the ground, head falling back on your neck, and you can feel the wet of your eyes, trying to force yourself not to blink so that they won’t fall—the tears. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He comes to a slow crouch before you, long legs folding down, down. “What is it? Tell me.” Half missing his armor as he poses now, it’s like he’s half him, half yours, half only-man, half Mandalorian. A little bit like what you feel yourself; half, half, half. 

Pulling one glove from his hand, he lifts it, palm spread towards you, showing you his intention before he carefully cups the side of your face; thumb at your pulse, pointer and middle fingers giving your temple a soft pressure, pinky poised at the bridge of your nose. Your lashes brush against his index every time you blink, and his skin is smooth and rough at the same time, and warm—sun-hearted man. 

You press your face harder into his palm, letting him support the weight of your head, nuzzling against the rough of his calluses, blaster blister scratchy against your carotid, and heat pulses all through you from the crown of your head, sliding down the length of your, still yet, too long hair, the back of your neck, your chest, pooling to settle deep in the pit of your belly. 

And yet there’s something missing or different or off, like you feel empty but too full of trepidation to conjure up that old desire you’d always had, that need for him to fill, fill, fill you. Like the heat is there, but it’s remembered, not necessarily present. It all makes you want to cry and scream and go to sleep. 

The truth, and plainly: you’re terrified of anything that might hurt, can’t fathom the idea of it. 

Your heart beats in your throat, you taste it on your tongue, and it mixes with the sad when you say: “Do you remember when we were on Kashyyyk—when we sparred?”

“I remember,” he says, voice deep and low—through the modulator. You hate his helmet. You wish you could get beneath. You wish you were brave enough. The feeling of it coming on sudden and unexpected, thought, bitter and foul and not something you’d necessarily felt before, certainly not so viciously. It’s just that you hate that all this has happened—you want to feel the press of his lips at the crown of your head and the wash of his breath like heat moving through your hair—that you are not in the same place you once were, that you’re too afraid to move forward. 

“When we switched weapons—”

He hums: “Yes.”

“It was so green there.” You turn your face further into him so that you’re speaking into his palm now, words pooling there in the cup of it like a well of truths and fears. 

“It was.” The pointer and index stroke your temple, press once, twice, thrice—harder on the latter. It feels good, it feels real and reminding. He lets a heavy silence pass for a moment, he’s thinking of something, contemplating a push. “Do you remember—” He passes a swallow you can hear the thickness of, “Do you remember how I had you in the dirt—like a fucking animal? How you let me do whatever I wanted, however I wanted.” He gives the hardest press he’s given yet, at your temple, you think you feel the press against your brain, and you open your mouth to let the edge of your teeth dig hard into the meat of his palm. He growls a rough sound, a hungry sound, a sound like one he’d have made when he had you in the dirt like a fucking animal. 

You drag your teeth along the hill of his palm, closing your mouth at the end. You don’t give him the wet of your tongue, you don’t feel ready to taste his skin like that just yet—an assimilation of violence.

“Yes,” you finally say, realizing that he understands what you were thinking without having to say it, or knowing how to, that you’re full of memories of past desires and how badly you want them back and how out of reach that all feels, but also, that suddenly now, in a single blink, the heat in your belly isn’t remembered, but present, alive, awake. That you’re cunt clenches once, twice, thrice around nothing—harder, hungrier on the latter. That you’re wet for him. “I remember.”

“Good. I remember every single thing we’ve ever done.” You roll your face in his palm so that you can look up at him now, feeling something like brave. “Every word, every breath, I remember all of it. Alright?”

“Alright,” you say quietly. 

“And if you need me to help you remember too, then I will.”

“Alright.” And then: “What if I can’t, though?... What if we can’t ever have that again? What if I can’t remember? What if I can never give you that again?” A tear slides over the bridge of your nose, and now it’s not only truths and fears cupped in the palm of his hand but the saltwater of grief too.  

“Then we’ll find something new. A new way, a different way. We’ll do it however you want now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, cyar’ika.” It’s very much a promise, a new Creed being established here. 

“Okay.”

He nods, “Okay.”

-

The water is warm verging on hot verging on scalding. It feels incredible slithering over your tired and sore muscles, the ligatures in your arms still trembling from the blaster practice earlier today, from your overwhelm of emotions. 

You hate that you’re not good at it, that the only weapon that seems to become you is a lightsaber. 

The suds of his earthy smelling soap slide through your hair, slipping down your spine, over your ass and along your legs to pool around your feet and disappear down the drain. You shiver once, as though letting something fall away as you slide your hand down, over the swell of your belly, to cup the palmful of your cunt, wedging your hand between your thighs. You pet slowly at the wet curls there, realizing some of it is also the sticky slick of your desire. You were right, you’re wet for him and your clit pulses, slightly swollen and wanting. Your body is awake and hungry for him for the first time in what feels like eons. 

You explore slowly, your cunt slightly trembling at the feeling of being prodded and touched for the first time in you can’t remember how long. Moaning softly, you pull your fingers from between your legs, hands sliding up now to cup the weights of your breasts in each palm and squeeze tightly. Oh, you want him, you want him, you’re afraid. Your head falls back on a thump against the fresher wall, loud enough that you hear his lurking voice through the door, you okay in there? And instead of being annoyed at his overbearing caution, his hovering, you shiver again, something coming back to you now. 

Your desire. 

You shut the water off, grabbing one of the soft linens he’d slung over the warm pipe for you to wrap yourself in. He knocks a knuckle against the wobbly little door, “Cyar’ika?” 

Looking at yourself in front of the steamy mirror, too long, naiad hair, bright, strange eyes, you want him, you want him, you want to feel alive, awake, anything. You can’t deny your shortcomings, fears, whatever they might be called, but there is yet still a soft place inside of you that they’d not snuffed out, that wants Din still. 

You turn to slide the fresher door open just as he’s readying to knock again. 

He’d showered before you, after he’d fed you your soup and your disgusting fake bread he’d promised he’d find a real substitution for soon enough, and you’d needed a moment alone to sit in your grime and silence, digest your feelings. He’s clad now in one of his soft, dark undershirts, his flight pants and the helmet, opposite your towel and water dewed skin, steaming from the hot fresher. 

You watch a swallow pass through his throat, words caught, slow and heavy. He clears it once, twice, tilts his head down to take in the state of you, before he says, “You alright?”

You nod, wide eyed awake. He’s standing right in front of you and you miss him and you want to shock him wide eyed awake too. “The water was too hot. I got dizzy,” you lie, swaying towards him a little, letting your lashes flutter dramatically. 

Not all the way, but enough, just a little, as much as you can bear, that’s what you want from him right now. 

His hands come up to grip the sides of your arms immediately, his bare hands, soaking up the wet of your skin. He pulls you into himself, pressing you carefully against his chest, and you shiver and shake against him, teeth rattling with a sound entirely lacking temperance. Your blood feels like it’s boiling, there’s desire alive and writhing in your tummy, and you squeeze your thighs together tightly, shifting from one foot to another while you drip a puddle onto the cold floor. 

“Come here, sit down,” he murmurs, gently moving you to your bed, easing you down onto it slowly. “You need to take it easy,” he clucks over you, gripping your elbow to let you down carefully, keeping his hands on your bare skin until the last moment. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re still tired, you’re still recovering. And you never listen. You have to listen to me when I’m trying to take care of you. You don’t eat enough, and I know your shoulder still hurts, little liar. Your elbow is barely better, and I saw you making strange faces when you were walking up the plank the other day. Your hip hurts doesn't it? Or your knee, something. No, don’t answer. I know you’ll just say no.” He talks and talks and talks, and you love him and you think that— 

There’s a name for this…

He’d told you he loved you and he’d not said it again, neither had you, it felt too huge a thing to talk about again just yet while there was still so much left to discuss and bridge, but what does it matter if your body sings or screams in pain when you have the love of this beskar titan? What could you care for all the rest of everything?

Yes, Din. Yes, Din. Whatever you say, Din, as he huffs and puffs and arranges you, brings another pillow and blanket from the bunk, his only one in there, not that he cares, lovely man. 

And it’s not only that you feel like you need to give him the things he wants or needs, because of course you do. You love him, you need to be able to give him things, everything, you want to be able to give him the whole galaxy. But it’s also that you want to. That to give him what he desires is to feed yourself, to live together, to be together, to give each other the things you need to stay alive. 

You let yourself fall back onto the soft blankets slowly, this nest where you’ve always felt so safe and so protected and so loved, even when neither of you knew it was love that was holding you here. And you watch him for a few anxious moments as he pulls the covers this way and that, tucking them here and there, trying to avoid looking at the bare expanse of your dew damp legs. But then, taking hold of his hand, you still his nervous movements, and he finally looks up at your face, letting go of his fretting, taking hold of the bravery in the palm of your hand. 

Shy—but brave. Brave—and wanting. 

“We’ll take care of each other, won’t we?” You want to tell him you love him again, but there’s something slightly terrifying, gloriously intimate and fragile about the words. 

“Always.”

“And we’ll keep each other alive?” Maker, I hope we keep each other alive. 

“Yes.”

You take hold of the edge of the linen covering you, revealing your naked body to him slowly, exposing your soft underbelly. You hear his breath hitch, exhale on a groan that sounds like dying. His grip on your hand goes tight to the point of bone crushing pain for one brief, brief moment before he remembers himself and gentles again. You shiver at the pain, belly swooping and quivering with fear and nausea and lust. 

You wish you could see his eyes, his face, his want. 

“You—” he stutters, swallows, “You don’t have to, my love.” My love. He doesn’t need to say it out loud again now with teeth and tongue, he says it in all the things he does. 

“You have to know that I want you so much. That I want you more than anything, Din.”

“I do know,” he says immediately. “I’ve never doubted that.” 

“I want to show you.”

“You don’t have to. I know—” His other hand comes up to grip yours with both of his, caging your limb within the strength of his fists—to keep himself from touching you anywhere else, you think. But you can feel the intensity of his gaze along your skin, over your bare breasts, quivering with your hitching breaths, water droplets translating the frantic beat of your heart in their trembling on the surface of your skin. The line of your belly, the slope downward to the soft place between your thighs. 

He’d seen the scarring on your hand, it was inevitable as much as you’d wished you could hide the deformity they’d left. As much as you wish you could’ve kept it from him, held an illusion for the rest of your lives together to spare him from the reminder of the things that’d been done, happened, chosen. But now… now he is to be subjected to the whole truth of it. Scars like cobwebs, strangely shimmering in silver lights beneath the surface of your skin—they’d been clever and ingenious in their torture—covering the whole circumference of your left hand up to your elbow. But also, from the lowest point of your last rib, over your right hip, traversing lower down the contours of your skin to wrap around the uppermost swell of your thigh. 

They’d left their mark like they’d intended, and it wasn't something you could ever hide from him, the reality of what’d been done, what you’d chosen. It was obvious in everything, etched into your skin, a chasm in the still present distance between the two of you. 

You feel like a bruise; tender, vulnerable, incongruously desperate to press on it harder and feel that dull throb, dark and ugly and on display. 

His hands go tight around yours again for a moment, before he’s snatching them back to grip his bent knee, white knuckled, silent anger on display when his eyes reach the scarring. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, smoothing a hand over your hip down to your thigh to grip yourself there, digging your fingertips lightly into the plush softness. Your skin vibrates. “It doesn't hurt now.”

“What did they do?” His voice is like gravel, restrained fire-full fury. 

“They wanted to see what it’d take to leave a mark. They figured it out.” The helmet turns away sharply, a short, brutal curse spit from his mouth. The tongue of his mother, beautiful despite his violence. 

“It’s okay, Din.” You take hold of your thigh, pulling it up and apart, spreading yourself for him. Brave, wanting heart, be brave. He turns back immediately. “I want you to see how much I want you,” you whisper. “How much I still need you.” 

You let your fingertips flutter lightly over your swollen, needy sex, and you can hear the obscene, sucking sound of your wet lips spreading apart when you part your legs wide enough for your sex to bloom. Cunt hungry and weeping for him. 

Fuck, he spits, leaning closer, and his hand snaps forward to grip your ankle all the way around, pulling your foot up onto the uncompromising muscle of his thigh—your only point of contact. 

“Show me, cyar’ika. Show me how much that pretty cunt missed me,” he growls. 

You start slow, wide eyes fixed on the dark tee of his vizor, fingertips swirling around your clit slowly, it pulses and throbs and beats to the rhythm you can feel his own heart beating at within his own chest. But you pet it slowly, teasing both of you, and then feel lower down to the clenching mouth of your cunt—fuck, he spits again—slicking your fingers in your sticky wet. You start to rock your hips against the flat of your hand, the sound of your cunt, loud in the quiet hull, nothing to interrupt but the too desperate sound of your mutual panting. His fingers around your ankle are so tight they’ll leave a sore spot, and you can't think of the later hurt now, afraid it'll scare you out of this, all you can focus on is the beat of your cunt, the way it cries for him. 

You swirl your fingertips at your opening, again, again, “Put them inside. Let me see you fuck yourself.” And it’s a demand. 

You start with one, slow and tentative, a little, shocked gasp as you probe shallowly within the tight, little hole. Then further, wiggling inside until you’re impaling yourself with your own small finger, the first thing inside of you in so long, and suddenly, you wish it was him. Your eyes fill with tears at the thought, spilling over at the wish that he could’ve been the first thing inside of you after all this time, but the reality that you’re just not ready for it yet. The salted proof of your inevitable shortcomings slide back along your cheeks to drip into your ears. 

“Another,” he demands. “Oh, it sounds so pretty, little one. Give it another.” You pull your single finger out, sucking, wet-cunt sound that he groans in tune with, to press another one in, mewling at the pinch and stretch of it, the slick slide. Yes, just like that. You’re doing so well, he says, a mirror of his earlier words to you today during target practice. “Roll your hips, ride your hand.” You hitch another sob, “Don’t fucking cry,” he grits, pressing your heel hard into the meat of his thigh. “Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re going to come for me, you’re going to let me see it.” He spreads his thighs wider in his kneeling crouch, pushing his hips forward into nothing, drawing your gaze to the heavy bulge behind the plaquette of his flight pants. He’s so hard. 

You crook your fingers inside yourself, hill of your palm against the swell of your engorged clit, fingertips against the spongey ridge at the front of your cunt, rolling your hips faster, chasing the orgasm you need to give him. Your foot feels numb in his grip, your cunt, on fire, so tight it hurts. Your belly hitches and heaves, open mouth gasping and you cry his name, moaning and writhing wantonly, your stomach slick and glistening again with sweat now instead of water. One of your palms reaches up to take hold of your breast, nipple caught between your fingers, squeezing tight, tight, tight. And suddenly he’s surging forward, letting go of your ankle to lean over you and rip his pants open, freeing his furious erection. The tip is red-purple and swollen fat, drooling a thick string of sloppy, white precum, and he wraps one massive fist around the angry thing. Din, Din, Din. He beats at his cock furiously, the sound of your name, the slick thwack, thwack, thwack of it sends you spilling into your orgasm, belly pulling tight, cunt twisting even tighter. 

“Fuck, fucking come—fucking come,” he snarls as he twists his fist cruelly around the head and the thick white viscosity of his semen starts to spill from the fat head, bubbling up and over his fist and between his fingers, splattering heavy and hot onto your spasming cunt, coating your fingers so that you’re pushing the thick of his come into yourself, slicking you further. “Yes, yes, yes, like that. Let me fucking see it…Look at what you do to me.” And there's so much furious want in his voice, and he’s so big, long and thick, and you know it’s going to hurt when he puts it inside of you for the first time again—you remember how it hurt before, how you loved it—and you’re afraid you’re not going to be able to handle any sort of pain ever again, not even the sort you’d been so hungry for before. 

But your womb pulls tight, pulses and throbs, and suddenly your two skinny fingers arent enough, you want the thick heft of his cock fucking hard and fast and deep inside of you, punching at the deepest spot within you.

His orgasm ends on a fierce groan, panting, thick chest heaving, his head hangs low between his shoulders. You pull your shaking fingers from your clenching hole, and he gives a few last lazy strokes, squeezing the last drops of come from the slick tip to splatter against your pussy. “I fucking missed this—your cunt covered in me.” His dripping cock bobs so close, and you have the sudden insane thought of him just shoving it in, holding you down prone and fucking all of his spend into your sloppy cunt, forcing you to take it and be his again. “I can’t wait to eat it. I can’t wait to fill it with my come again and eat it out of you.” There’s a part of you that might want it, that might wish for it. 

“Maker, Din…” you moan, rubbing the thick semen into your overstimulated clit, your mound, up the curve of your belly, slicking yourself in him.

 If you can’t have his touch, this is enough, and you bring your sticky, soaking fingers up to your mouth, sucking the come from them. He groans, not fair, sitting back on his knees, spent cock hanging obscenely from his open pants, wet and glistening. He reaches behind his head to tug his shirt up and off, leaving his sweaty chest bare and gleaming. Your eyes flutter shut, cupping your cunt in the palm of your hand, covering the slick curve of it, and you arch your back, spreading your thighs further, putting yourself on display for him. 

“Gorgeous, cyar’ika,” he says between pants. “So pretty, my love.” He reaches down to squeeze his half hard cock once more. “I can be patient for you, I promise. You’re so worth it.”

-

He lays beside you in the dark, stretched out long and entirely clothed, but here with you, forced and convinced to share your bed with a line of pillows as a protective moat between the two of you at his own insistence.

You’re on your side, hands folded beneath your smushed cheek, wide eyes searching fruitlessly for the shape of him in the pitch dark. You want to say something else. You want to tell him you love him again, to hear the words fall from your tongue. 

“What are you thinking?” He asks.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” You hum a barely breathed laugh. And then, “I know you’re scared or regretful or worried that we’ll not get back to where we were,” he reads you.

“Yes.”

There’s a name for this…

He sighs long, goes quiet for longer, and then finally: “What’s happened’s happened, which is an expression of faith in the mechanics of the galaxy.”

“Fate?” You muse, a little unbelieving.

Dark red—

“Call it what you want. We met, we separated…you were—gone. We waited. Now we’re here again. It’s meaningful, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You believe in this—fate?” I didn’t think I believed in anything anymore. But I believe in you.

“Call it what you want, but yes.”

—String. 

There’s something about this that you need to consider, chew on. The fact that you’d felt, all your life, cursed to know how a thing would happen, be, end, always. Something like fate, perhaps, the whisper of it making a home for itself within the shell of your ear, and now the truth that he too believes in this thing you’ve always lived with. Destiny, what have you—you believe in the same things, you believe in each other. 

“Will you hold my hand?”

He turns over, reaching to twine his fingers through yours; large, rough palm against small, soft palm. You want to tell him you love him again, you want to hear the words for him, but they feel trapped, tender, timid. 

You’d always thought your destiny fixed, poised, on the tip of your tongue. A thing was what it was birthed unto the galaxy in perpetuity, and no amount of desire could absolve you of its sunken teeth. But this—this desire is like the creation of myth, that dark red thread that goes by the name of fate being pulled taught, humming in accord with a frequency heard only by the two of you. 

Now: “Will you kiss me?” A beat of silence, his fingers around yours going tight, tight. 

“Come here,” his voice blends with the darkness, and tugging you into himself, protective border between your bodies and his hand around your jaw, he slips a kiss onto your tongue. His mouth holds the hot recollection of being alive; the drag of his teeth against your bottom lip, the taste, your fingers weaving through his hair, your names sounding together, a pair because they belong on the same breath. 

You pull back, and it’s only a small brevity, but it’s enough, and that confusion from earlier, that shiver of letting something go or taking it back into yourself, settles. 

You’re afraid or regretful or both, yes, sure. You also find yourself to be, suddenly, forgiving, full of empathy. You won’t be able to have him unless you take possession of yourself first, and on the tail end of a comet breaking across the sky: I love him, but I must also love myself. He deserves someone who loves themself, but more than that, I deserve it too. To be able to give him the things he wants and needs: I deserve to be in love with myself. 

You let the Tartarian memory become nothing.

 Love manifests itself primarily in forgiveness.

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[elliesbelle]

skinny dipping

ellie williams one-shot

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: it's a wednesday and you go to a coffee shop. you hear the barista call a name: ellie. your ex-girlfriend. after some nonsensical chatter, she asks to catch up. have you both changed or are you still those scared little kids?

content warnings: modern au, ex-girlfriend!ellie, also ex-best friend!ellie, also artist!ellie, also a bit of mean!ellie, ellie and reader are in their mid-20s, cursing, verbal arguments, kind of angst, mention of character death, ellie and reader break-up, non-sexual nudity, minors don't interact

word count: 6.1k

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i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

based on the sabrina carpenter song “skinny dipping”

It’s 8:47 on a Wednesday morning. You’d gotten an early start to your morning and figured you could treat yourself to a cup of coffee. Since you work just around the corner from the coffee place and had a few minutes to spare, you were at your leisure. 

You stand to the side from where the pick-up counter was, patiently waiting for your name and order to be called out. Scrolling through your phone absent-mindedly, your ears suddenly perk up when one of the baristas calls out, “Oat milk latte for, uhhh… Ellie?” 

There’s no chance that it’s actually her. 

But it is. 

You look up from your phone to see a flash of auburn hair. The barista places the oat milk latte on the counter to be picked up by a woman in a simple black t-shirt tucked into dark grey jeans and wearing a pair of old, black Converse. 

The woman mutters a thanks to the barista before turning around to suddenly meet your stunned gaze. Her green eyes mirror the expression on yours. 

“Hi.” Your ex-girlfriend suddenly blurts out. 

“Hi, E-Ellie.” You blurt out right back. 

The sounds of chatter from other patrons and chairs scraping and the cha-ching of the register are all drowned out suddenly as you’re both being pulled into a bubble. 

“Then go, Ellie! Just fucking go!” You screamed. 

“The fuck does it look like I’m doing, huh?” Ellie yelled back, throwing up her hands in frustration before going back to stuffing her belongings from her desk into her backpack. 

“Running away, like you always do!” You responded angrily. “You’re a fucking coward!” 

“Uh, huh, sure.” She scoffed, keeping her back turned to you as she zips up her backpack. 

“Just go back to your fancy fucking college with all your fancy new friends and go ahead and make your pretentious art and forget about all of this!” You said, tears uncontrollably streaming down your face. 

“Yeah, maybe I will!” Ellie retorted, whipping around to look at you. 

“Fine.” You sneered. 

“Fine!” She replied. 

You glared at each other, her angry green eyes meeting yours. 

After a moment of loaded silence, you sniffled, wiped your nose on your sleeve, and shook your head. 

“Well, you can go ahead and forget about me too, then.” You professed, making your way to storm past her and out of the garage. 

Before you reached the doorknob, you felt Ellie’s hand suddenly grab your wrist. 

“Wait,” She said, voice a little softer. 

You kept your eyes focused on the door, knowing that if they met hers once again, you’d beg for forgiveness that you didn’t need to receive from her. 

“Don’t.” You said firmly. You attempted to shake her off, but her grip stayed secure. 

“Let’s just—let’s talk about this.” She said with an attempt at rationality in her voice. 

“I’ve been here the whole time to talk. There’s no point in it anymore. Now let go of me.” 

“Baby—” 

“I’m not your fucking baby, Ellie!” You suddenly yelled, relenting to turn around and say this directly to her face. Her eyes were welling up with tears. 

“Please, I love you.” Ellie pleaded. 

You scoffed. 

“No, you fucking don’t.” You proclaimed. 

You shook off Ellie’s hand from your wrist once you felt her grip loosen. You yanked the door open and ran into the night. 

The flooding of memories is put to a stop when you hear the barista call out your name and order. You jump and so does Ellie. 

Awkwardly, you break the eye contact to walk to the pick-up counter right next to her, reaching out to grab your drink. 

You pull the coffee cup to your chest, as if the heat could radiate comfort through your body. Something within you summons a sliver of courage, so you decide to break the silence and dared look her right in those ocean-green eyes again. 

“How are you?” You mutter, so quiet that you weren’t sure if she heard you. But you were both so close to each other that you swore you could hear her heartbeat. 

“I’m…I’m good.” She mutters right back. 

Ellie surprises you with a tiny smile. You return it with a bashful one of your own. 

“Good.” You say. “I—I didn’t know you were back in town.” 

“Yeah, actually I—” Ellie hesitates for a second. “I moved back last month.” 

“Oh.” You say, shocked. “Oh, wow. I didn’t know that.” 

“Yeah, it was–it was a little sudden. But I’m here.” 

“Right.” You reply, taking a nervous sip of your coffee. 

“Umm, so…how’s your family?” She asks. 

“Oh, they’re…they’re the same.” 

“That’s good. How’s your sister Kiko?” 

You smile, touched that Ellie remembered your little sister. You’re reminded of how close she was with her, how much your little sister looked up to Ellie. 

“Oh, Kiko’s…Kiko. As always.” You say. Ellie smiles. 

“How old is she now?” 

“Turning 19 this month. She just graduated.” 

“Oh, wow. That’s amazing. I feel like she was just 5 years old, like, yesterday.” 

“I know, it’s so crazy. She’s actually taller than me now.” 

“My little dude, taller than you? That can’t be true.” 

“Surreal, right?” 

“That looks awesome, little dude.” Ellie said. 

“Really?” Your little sister Kiko beamed. 

“Yeah! You’ve got talent, kid.” 

You walked into your bedroom, holding a glass of lemonade in one hand. 

“What are you doing in here, Kiko?” You questioned, seeing your sister sitting next to Ellie on your bed with her sketchbook open on Ellie’s lap. 

“I was showing Ellie some of my drawings!” Your sister piped. 

“Oh, yeah?” You said, coming over to sit on Kiko’s other side. You handed Ellie the glass, to which she uttered a quiet thanks. 

“Check it out,” Kiko said, pulling her sketchbook closer to you. “This one is a picture of an apatosaurus eating a leaf.” 

She pointed at a charcoal drawing of a long-necked dinosaur eating from a tree. She flipped the page and pointed at a sketch of a girl who looked roughly the same age as her. 

“This is my friend Peni. I drew it while we were eating lunch the other day, but she said I made her eyes too big.” 

“And I told her to punch Peni for that when she sees her at school on Monday.” Ellie said. 

“Ellie!” You exclaimed, reaching behind Kiko to smack Ellie’s arm. Ellie cackled. 

“She deserves it! Her drawing’s perfect!” Ellie said. 

“Okay, but don’t tell my little sister to resort to violence!” You complained. 

“I think more people should be resorting to violence.” Ellie shrugged. 

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Whatever,” Ellie laughed again. “Show us more, little dude.” 

Your sister enthusiastically flipped through more pages of her sketchbook, describing each of her drawings. You and Ellie listened happily and attentively, Ellie occasionally taking sips of her lemonade. 

“Oh, and this is you guys!” Kiko suddenly exclaimed. She pointed at a half-finished pencil drawing of you and Ellie. 

Your eyes widened and Ellie choked on her lemonade. 

You and Ellie were laying down together on your living room couch, fast asleep. One of Ellie’s arms served as a pillow for your head while the other embraced your hip to pull you closer. Your head was nuzzled in Ellie’s neck, arms wrapped around Ellie’s waist. You were both covered with a throw blanket, and you could catch a glimpse of your feet intertwined with Ellie’s at the end of the couch. Though just a sketch, you could tell that you were both in deep, unencumbered sleep. 

You weren’t sure when it was that Kiko drew this because you and Ellie had fallen asleep with each other countless times. It wasn’t rare for you two to cuddle either; you’d been best friends for a while now and you were very physically comfortable with each other. But something about the way Kiko captured this intimacy on paper felt further than that. It awakened something dormant in you, something you didn’t realize was there in the first place. 

Neither you nor Ellie seemed to know what to say. You both stared at the sketchbook dumbfounded, Ellie not realizing that she had some lemonade dribbling down her chin. Luckily, Kiko didn’t seem to notice the sudden tension in the air. 

“Oh! Hang on, I have to grab my other sketchbook! I’ve got a couple more dinosaur drawings I wanna show you, Ellie!” 

Your sister jumped up and bounded out of your bedroom, leaving her sketchbook in between you and Ellie. 

You continued to stare at your sister’s sketch. Even if you were five years older than her, Kiko was far more artistically talented than you at just the age of 12. 

Your fingers reached out to lightly brush across Ellie’s and your etched faces, but they were suddenly met with Ellie’s own fingers, who had the same idea. You both quickly retracted your hands after accidentally zapping each other as your skin touched hers. 

“Shit, sorry.” Ellie said, breaking the silence. 

“Oh, it’s okay.” You whispered. You tore your eyes away from the drawing to stare at your legs dangling from the bed. 

“That Kiko is a… pretty funny kid, huh?” Ellie said, laughing nervously. 

“Right,” You said. “Well, Kiko is Kiko.” 

“She really is.” 

An awkward silence continued to loom over you two, neither knowing how to break it. This was unchartered territory for you. You usually felt so at ease with your best friend, but something suddenly shifted. And you weren’t sure what it was. 

You eventually looked up at Ellie, who was twiddling her fingers. You noticed her chin still dripping slightly with lemonade. You giggled as Ellie met your eyes. 

“What?” She asked. 

“What is the matter with you?” You laughed, getting up and walking towards your desk. 

“What!” Ellie repeated. 

“You’ve got lemonade on your chin, dummy.” You said, grabbing a kleenex from a tissue box. 

“Oh,” Ellie brought her hand up and felt the wetness. “Shit.” 

She chuckled, grabbing the bottom of her shirt to wipe her face. 

“Hey, no!” You scolded, running over to her to slap her shirt out of her hand. 

“What!” Ellie said, indignant. 

“Were you raised in a barn?” You scoffed, handing Ellie the tissue. 

“Yup,” Ellie replied, accepting it. “Oink, oink.” 

You rolled your eyes and laughed as Ellie cleaned off her face. 

“You are so annoying!” You said, taking your pointer finger to push up the tip of Ellie’s nose, giving it the appearance of a pig’s snout. 

Ellie swatted your finger away playfully, snickering. 

“And yet you still laughed anyway!” 

“Whatever!” 

“Hey,” Ellie said, holding her hands up. “Not my fault I’m a comical genius.” 

“A comical dumbass, maybe.” You rolled your eyes once more. 

“Oh, you love me.” Ellie said, grinning widely. 

You and Ellie both chuckle. You’re surprised to find that you missed the sound of her laughter. 

After a few moments, you both fall silent. You feel heat rushing to your cheeks at the same time that Ellie’s freckles turn pink. Suddenly you don’t feel the need for coffee anymore. Your heart beats like that of a hummingbird and you feel as if you were sweating excessively underneath your short-sleeved button-down. Your lungs feel like they were fully submerged in water. You had to tear your gaze away from those ocean-green eyes. 

It’s Ellie’s courage this time that breaks the silence. 

“Well, uhh. Let her know I say hi, will you?” 

“Y-yeah. Of course.” You say. “And uhh, say hi to your Uncle Tommy and Aunt Maria too.” 

Ellie smiles, but you notice a hint of sadness behind it. 

“Sure.” She says. 

You give her a slight nod. 

Fidgeting with your coffee cup, you feel your chest tighten from the rising awkwardness. 

“Well, uhh, I gotta get to work.” You say. “Umm, it was nice seeing you.” 

You give Ellie a final smile and a wave, whipping around and heading out the door before Ellie could respond. 

The sound of a bell tinkles as you walk through the door of the coffee shop. You take several deep breaths as a million emotions wash over you. You take a sip of your coffee before turning towards the direction of your workplace. But before you could get far, you hear another tinkle of the coffee shop bell. 

“Wait!” You hear Ellie’s voice call out. 

Before you could turn around, you feel fingers wrap around your wrist. You both immediately withdraw your hands as you feel Ellie’s skin accidentally zap yours. 

“Fuck, sorry.” Ellie says apologetically. 

“It’s okay.” You reply, pulling your zapped hand to your swiftly beating chest. 

“Umm,” She begins. “This was really nice. Catching up, I mean.” 

“Y-yeah.” 

“We should…do this on purpose sometime.” She says, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly. An old Ellie habit you recognize. 

“Oh, umm.” You bounce lightly back and forth on your feet. “Yeah. Sure.” 

“Cool beans.” She says, smiling. “Are you free tonight, by any chance?” 

“Oh, I have to stay late at work tonight.” 

“Oh, okay.” She says, her smile faltering. She seems to think you were making up an excuse to flake. 

“But I’m free Friday night!” You say quickly. “I get off at 5:30. But if you aren’t free or if that doesn’t work for you—“ 

Ellie smiles. 

“Friday sounds great. Do you wanna do 6:30 at Raja’s?” 

You grimace slightly. 

“Won’t that be too nostalgic?” 

Ellie chuckles. 

“Maybe, but let’s do it anyway.” She says. Your cheeks feel warm from her sudden boldness. 

“We won’t sit at the same old table or anything,” She says, holding her hands up. “Just dinner. Nothing more.” 

You consider this for a second. 

“Yeah,” You say slowly. “Yeah, okay.” 

Ellie beams, knowing she won you over. 

“Friday at 6:30 then.” 

“Oh, that’s so fucking cool.” You say. 

“Yeah, you think so?” Ellie responds. 

It was Friday at 6:54 in the evening. Ellie was right on time, but you were kept at work longer than expected and were several minutes late. You’d rushed home to drop your work things off and make yourself presentable as quickly as possible for having dinner with your ex-girlfriend, thanking past you for already laying out the outfit you planned on wearing for the meeting. 

The diner was a 10-minute walk from your apartment, but you made it a 6-minute run instead. It had rained the previous day, so you’d nearly slipped several times. But you caught yourself each time, determined to make it in one piece. 

When you arrived, Ellie was already sitting at a booth, drinking water. You arrived completely winded, breathlessly muttering a hundred apologies. Ellie just smiled, telling you to take a deep breath and that it was completely okay. She seemed grateful that you showed up either way. 

After taking generous sips from the glass of water that was already waiting for you, you’d greeted Ellie properly with a smile. She returned it, and now you were both discussing all the tattoos she’s gotten in the past few years. You’d noticed one on her left arm when she pushed the second glass of water towards you. 

“How about the one on your right arm?” You ask. You’d gotten a slight glimpse of it the other day at the coffee shop. 

“Oh, umm.” She says, placing her arm on the table so you could get a better look. She seems almost reluctant to do so. 

You lean in closer, moving your head around to better inspect the ferns that decorated her forearm from different angles. There was something else engraved on top of the ferns that you couldn’t quite make out, but it somehow seemed familiar. Your right hand hovers over the tattoo, an impulse to touch it nearly coming over you. But you keep your fingers to yourself, afraid to cross that line just yet. 

“It’s beautiful, Ellie. Did you design this one yourself?” You ask. 

“No, uhh,” She begins awkwardly. “My ex-girlfriend Cat did.” 

“Oh” was all you said in reply, unwittingly withdrawing your hand. 

“Yeah, uhh. I got it freshman year of college. After…after my dad died.” 

“Oh.” You repeat once more. 

“Y-yeah. It wasn’t the easiest thing to deal with, and Cat thought it would help with like, the grieving process and all.” 

“Right, of course.” You say, feeling remorseful for having brought attention to the topic. 

Ellie begins to unintentionally run her fingers over the tattoo out of nervousness, drawing your eyes to it once more. You suddenly recognize what the final part of the design was. 

“That’s the…the moth. From your old guitar.” 

Ellie looks down at it sadly. 

“Yeah, it is.” 

You’re both drawn into yet another awkward silence. Fiddling with your fingers in your lap, you feel as if an anchor was dropped onto your chest. You’d known that the topic of Joel’s death might come up, but you were nervous nonetheless. 

You look up to see Ellie’s face to find that she was already staring at you. She didn’t look like she was upset with you in any way at all; in fact, it was guilt that flashed across her features. You realize why, and there was an unspoken acknowledgement that you were both thinking about the same thing. 

Ellie withdraws her arm back to her side. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispers. 

“I know.” You whisper back. 

You were sitting on the couch in Ellie’s makeshift art studio that she’d set up in her garage. You hugged your knees to your chest, rocking back and forth as you drowned in your tears. It had been almost a week since Joel’s funeral and nobody had heard from Ellie. Everyone asked after her during the wake, but neither you nor her Uncle Tommy or Aunt Maria could answer. She hadn’t made it to the funeral, and you were worried. 

It was four months into your freshman year of college. You decided to attend a university closer to home, only a half-hour drive from Jackson. But Ellie chose an art school in Boston after receiving a scholarship, all the way across the country. 

Deciding on a long-distance relationship seemed like a no-brainer when you and Ellie had discussed it after you both graduated high school. You loved each other, both as girlfriends and long-time best friends. It felt as if your love would be able to survive anything. 

The longer that Ellie was away, however, the more difficult it got. Your college was much smaller, compared to hers. You preferred it that way; that was a factor in your choosing to attend. Some of your peers that you grew up with in Jackson were even in a few of your classes, and this eased the anxiety of being away from home. 

But Ellie, a couple thousand miles away, was in a brand new town with brand new faces. You were nervous for her, fearing that she’d be a fish out of water. You knew how awkward she could be sometimes and you worried that she’d get lonely. But after a few weeks of college, she’d made several friends and grew to love Boston. This made you happy, but part of you was sad that you couldn’t experience this milestone in your lives together. 

You’d been inseparable since childhood, growing up together and going to the same schools and having the same friends. Along the way, you’d realized you were in love with each other. It was bliss, to fall in love with the one person you trusted most with your life and to have them love you back. You were both so in sync, even and especially after you started dating. She knew you like the back of her hand, and you knew her the same. 

But as you sat there in Ellie’s garage with only the comfort of your own arms, you started to wonder. You were trying to convince yourself that Ellie was pulling away from you because of Joel’s passing. But all the unanswered phone calls, missed flights to visit home, the growing disinterest in your side of the conversation affirmed that Ellie was becoming someone you no longer knew. You were still where you always were, but Ellie had traveled oceans away from you.  

You had your head buried in your knees when you heard the sound of the door unlocking. As you dropped your legs to the ground, you watched as Ellie entered the garage. She flicked the light on and jumped when she saw your miserable figure sitting on her couch. 

“Oh, fuck!” She yelled. “You scared me, babe.” 

She placed a hand on her chest as if to slow down her rapid heartbeat. 

“Sorry.” You whisper meekly. 

“What are you doing sitting here all alone in the dark?” She asked, walking over to her desk and placing her backpack on top of it. 

You stared at her in disbelief. 

“Where the fuck have you been, Ellie?” You said, ignoring her question. 

“What do you mean? I’ve been around.” She replied, her back towards you as she collected some belongings. 

“You missed Joel’s funeral.” You said bluntly. 

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” She said, a little too nonchalantly. 

You watched as she continued to move around the room, rearranging a few things and rifling through drawers. She felt your gaze on her but avoided eye contact with you. 

“He was your father, Ellie.” You said after a few minutes of silence. 

“Adoptive father,” She corrected. “He wasn’t my real dad.” 

“He fucking raised you.” 

“Yeah, well,” She said, placing a few paintbrushes in her backpack. “Look how that turned out.” 

You were exhausted. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Ellie?!” 

She finally turned around to face you. 

“What?” She asked, taken aback by your raised tone. 

“Where the fuck have you been? Why weren’t you at Joel’s funeral? Everyone’s been worried sick about you, wondering where the fuck you went off to. Your Aunt Maria nearly called the cops, but your Uncle Tommy and I had to convince her that you wouldn’t be so stupid to go and get yourself hurt!” 

You’d risen from your seat on the couch now, glaring at her. 

“And now this about Joel? He was your fucking father. I don’t give a fuck what you say! He loved you so much, and it would break his heart to hear you talk about him like this.” 

Tears were streaming down your face as Ellie watched you silently continuing your outrage. 

“I know you need to deal with your grief in your own way. I know you’re sad and need time, but…” You sniffled. “Please don’t shut us out. Don’t push away the people who love you. Joel wouldn’t have wanted this for you.” 

Ellie scoffed, which took you by furious surprise. 

“You don’t know that. He’s gone. It doesn’t matter what he wanted anymore.” 

It felt as if she slapped you right across the face. 

“I’m so fucking sick of this.” She finally said after a moment of silence. 

“What?” 

“I’m sick of this town. I’m sick of the people here. I can’t fucking stand being here for another second. I don’t want this.” 

You stood there shocked, staring at a stranger who looked remarkably like the girl you loved. 

You and Ellie continue to look at each other from opposite ends of the table. She seems as if she wants to say more, to apologize further. But she stops when you give her a forgiving smile. 

“It’s okay.” You say. 

She returns your smile, sadly but with gratitude. 

Your moment of reminiscence is interrupted when your waitress approaches your booth. 

“Oh my goodness, it’s the troublemaking duo!” Your waitress exclaims. “I didn’t know it was you that Ellie was waiting on!” 

Heat rises to your cheeks. 

“Hi, Wendy.” You say, recognizing the old woman. 

“It has been so long since I’ve seen you two together! Oh, and now you’re both so grown up!” Wendy gabbed. “Oh, Ellie, it’s so nice to have you back in town! Your Aunt Maria has been going on and on for weeks about how excited she and Tommy are that you’re moving back!” 

“Yeah, they seem pretty psyched to have me home,” Ellie says, smiling kindly. “It’s good to be back, Wendy.” 

“Maria kept wishing you would move back after you’d graduated college! And I kept telling her, ‘kids gotta get their feet wet first!’ But look at you, back home again finally!” 

“Yeah, Boston was pretty great. But it wasn’t for me, and I really missed Jackson.” 

Wendy smiled at this. 

“Oh, having you two back here like this feels like things never changed. I wish that I knew you were both coming in; otherwise, I would have saved your usual table!” Wendy says, gesturing towards a booth in the corner of the diner. 

You glance over and see a young couple sitting together, holding hands across the table. They were slightly obscured by this old, beat-up jukebox that was playing some old 80s song. 

“Oh, it’s alright, Wendy,” Ellie says, waving her hand. “We’re good here.” 

“Well, okay!” She dips her hand in her apron. “Oh my, I forgot my pen and pad! Oh, and I haven’t even brought you your coffee yet! I swear, I think my brain is slowly spilling out of my ears every day!” 

Ellie laughs and you grimace at the image. 

“Let me go grab those things real quick, and then I’ll take your gals’ order!” Wendy says gleefully. 

“That’d be great.” Ellie replies. 

Wendy beams at both of you before making her way back to behind the counter. 

“Since when did you drink coffee?” You ask Ellie, to which she shrugs. 

“Kind of grew on me back in college. Still have to drink it with tons of sugar and creamer, though.” She says. 

“Ahh, well, that explains the oat milk latte from the other day.” 

“Memorized my order, huh?” She teases. 

Wendy the waitress saves you from your bashfulness by arriving with two coffee cups in one hand and a coffee pot in the other. As Wendy pours into each of your cups, Wendy decides to gush more over the two of you. 

“I was just telling Esther in the back how much we would dread when you two rascals would come in here. I remember how you two would come in and order one milkshake to share and a plate of fries and then pay us with dimes and nickels! Drove us nuts to count it all out!” 

You and Ellie laugh nervously, embarrassed over your childhood antics. 

“And you’d come in here and play that one a-ha! song over and over again if you had any leftover change! Oh, we all got so sick of that song that Raja almost took out the jukebox at one point!” Wendy chortles. 

“Right, “Take on Me” was what we always played,” You recall. “Sorry, Wendy.” 

“Oh, it’s alright,” She says, waving you off. “In fact, someone put that song on the jukebox a few weeks back and it made me miss those good old days.” She sighs, reminiscing. 

Ellie glances at you while you look at Wendy in her reverie. Ellie’s eyes look gentle and affectionate, an expression that hasn’t adorned her face in years. 

“Oh, I do miss you youngsters and your shenanigans. Drove me crazy, but it kept me young. Do you recall when you came in here absolutely sopping wet, Ellie?” 

Ellie blushes suddenly, scratching the back of her neck as her freckles turn pink once more. 

“Y-yeah. Sorry about that.” 

“Oh, you got the floor all wet and dirty, and your usual booth smelled like wet dog for a week!” Wendy cackles. 

“Oh?” You ask. “When was that?” 

“It was back in—” Wendy starts, but another waitress called behind the counter. 

“Wendy, honey! Table 12 spilled orange juice everywhere; can you grab the mop?” 

“Oh darn,” Wendy says. “Let me go take care of this mess real quick, sweethearts! And I’ll be right back for your orders!” 

Wendy walks off quickly and leaves the two of you alone once more. 

You glance at Ellie. 

“When did that happen?” You question curiously. 

“Umm,” Ellie says nervously. “It was that day. At the lake.” 

Your face softens in recognition. 

“Els, come on!!” You yelled, pulling her with you. 

“Dude, no!” 

“Els, 17 is way too old to be afraid of the water!” 

“I am not afraid of the water!” Ellie said, breaking free from your grasp and crossing her arms. 

Joel had dragged you and Ellie with him for a fishing trip by a nearby lake. He’d forgotten his bait box back at his and Ellie’s home, and he left you and Ellie to your own devices while he drove back to grab it. Bored out of your mind, you were trying to convince Ellie to jump into the lake with you from a large rock that oversaw the water. 

“Then you won’t have any problems if I just…” You made the motion of pushing someone. “...throw you into the lake, by any chance?” 

Ellie backed away from you, holding her hands up. 

“Don’t you fucking dare, man,” She said. “I will never, ever forgive you.” 

You groaned then dragged your feet to the edge. You looked over at the lake. 

“It’s not that high of a jump, Els! Come on, Joel and I taught you to swim two summers ago!” 

“Let’s just get back to the shore, dude. He’ll be back any second.” She said. 

“You know Joel won’t be back for another half hour.” You replied, knowing that Joel would find a million other things to do before heading out again. You skipped over to where she stood feet away from the edge of the mini-cliff. 

You grabbed both of her hands in yours. Her breathing hitched when your skin touched hers. 

It had been a month since your little sister unveiled her drawing of you and Ellie sleeping together. Ever since then, Ellie seemed nervous to be near you, much less be touched by you. You were still best friends and still as close as ever, but there’d been a palpable tension in the air after that awkward moment in your bedroom. It was as if you were both just waiting for something to happen, something inevitable. 

“Pretty please, Els?” You asked your best friend, batting your eyelashes at her. She blushed furiously. 

“You’re gonna catch your death if you jump in. It’s chilly.” Ellie said. “And I’m not lending you my jacket if you get your clothes all wet.” 

“Fine.” You said. You release her hands and walk towards the edge once more. Ellie’s eyes widen as you begin shedding your clothing: first, your shoes, then your pants, and finally your shirt. 

Ellie averts her gaze as you were left in just your underwear. 

“Problem solved.” You said boldly. You walk back over to her. 

It wasn’t as if you and Ellie hadn’t seen each other intimately before, having been best friends for many years. But for the last month, she started seeing you in a much different light and looking at you this intimately was opening the floodgates.  

“Come on, Els.” You said, tugging on her shirt. “Take a leap with me.” 

Before Ellie could respond, you sighed and turned away from her to walk back near the water, discarded the rest of your clothing, and jumped off the edge with a scream. 

“Goddamn it.” Ellie said, rushing over to see where you’d dove. She watched as you eventually emerged, ripples reverberating around you. 

“Let’s go, Ellie!” You yelled from the water. 

Ellie backed away from the edge, took a deep breath, and said, “Fuck it.” 

She replicated your actions and took off her clothes, all the way down to her black sports bra and boxers. 

You were swimming around in circles when you saw Ellie’s stark naked figure plummeting into the lake before landing ten feet away from you. You beamed, wading towards her as she rose from underneath. 

“You actually did it!” You exclaimed. Ellie splashed you, lake water getting in your eyes. 

“Ellie!” You whined. 

“You’re the fucking worst!” She said, pouting. 

“You love me!” You said, ribbing. 

“No, you’re the worst, I hate you.” Ellie said, splashing you once more. You splashed her back. 

You both waded closer to the shore until you both felt your toes touch the bottom of the lake. 

“You jumped in for me, you fucking adore me!” You giggled. 

“Oh, please, you wish.” Ellie scoffed before you reached over to squeeze her cheeks together. 

“Hey!” She said, muffled. 

“Don’t deny your love for me, Miss Ellie Williams.” You teased before giggling again as you release her face. 

“Nope, hate you ‘til I die.” Ellie said stubbornly, to which you shove her shoulder.  

“Well, too bad, because I love you!” You said. 

“Uh-huh.” Ellie replied, rolling her eyes. 

She began to turn away from you to paddle towards the shore. 

You take a leap. 

“I do love you.” You suddenly said. 

“Yeah, I know, man.” 

“No, Ellie, I—” You said, stuttering. “I-I love you.” 

She turned back to face you. 

“What?” 

You swam closer to her until your faces were inches apart. 

“I love you, Ellie.” 

Ellie blinked. 

“I—” She began, unsure of what to say. 

“Sorry, I just—I just wanted to tell you that, that’s all.” You whispered, looking down at your submerged and naked figure instead of at her. 

“No, it’s okay, I—” Ellie started once more. “I-I love you too.” 

Your eyes shot up to meet hers. 

“What?” 

“Y-yeah, I—” Ellie began, but she’s cut off when your lips suddenly meet hers. 

It was as if fireworks began erupting within you. As the shock of your kiss wore off, Ellie melted into you as she grabbed your face to draw you closer to her. You wrapped your arms around her neck as she pulled you in tighter. 

No amount of fantasizing could ever prepare you for the euphoria that was kissing Ellie Williams. It was like everything fell into place, like your entire friendship was leading up to this. It felt so foolish that you hadn’t realized this sooner, that you had to wait all this time to let yourself fall in love with your best friend. 

You were both pulled into this bubble where it was just you, Ellie, and the lake. You felt inevitable. 

You broke off, needing to catch your breath. Your foreheads were pressed up against each other, both of you breathless. Your head felt empty but your heart was full. 

Before you could say anything, you felt Ellie’s hands leave your face. Your eyes shoot open to see Ellie already at the shore, bounding towards the rock you’d jumped off from. 

“Ellie!” You called out, but she didn’t respond. 

You watched as she reached the mini-cliff where you’d both left your clothing. You thought for a second that she was going to jump back in, but instead, she was pulling her clothes back on. 

You made your way to the shore, shivering and embracing yourself. 

“Ellie!” You called out again. “Where are you going?!” 

Ellie had pulled on her Converse, quickly tying the laces into knots. Fully dressed, she looked down at you, still bare and exposed. 

You could make out her face from where you were, but you didn’t recognize the look she wore. It wasn’t anger or pity or sadness. You’d never seen her make that expression before. 

You started towards the rock, but Ellie was quicker. She ran off before you even got close to her, dripping lake water behind her and leaving you still at the shore, naked and screaming for her to come back. 

“Oh,” You say. “This is where you came after that?” 

“Yeah,” Ellie replies. “Wasn’t sure where else to go.” 

“I always wondered,” You say. “Cause when Joel got back, we drove back to your house, and you weren’t there. You never said where you’d gone.” 

“Yeah, well. I was just some scared little kid.” She admits. 

“It’s okay,” You reassure. “Me too.” 

You stare once more into the ocean in her eyes. You didn’t mean to bring up the past. You’d wanted to keep this meeting bureaucratic, free from the judgment of yesterday. 

You decide to break the silence with humour. 

“Kind of crazy how you ran away from me real fast.” You giggle, taking a sip of your coffee. 

Ellie doesn’t laugh; instead, she takes a leap and reaches over to your free hand that you’d placed on the table, putting hers over it. 

Your eyes widen as she looks at you in a way that no one else ever has. 

“But I’m not running away now.” She says genuinely. 

You place your cup down and give her a soft smile. 

“Good.” You reply. 

You feel the water finally flow under the bridge. 

author’s notes:

sabrina propaganda, sabrina propaganda, sabrina propaganda, sabrina propaganda, sabrina propaganda, sabrina propaganda

sorry for teasing this for so long! i have issues

the reader's sister's name is based on my little sister's name kiko :) they're also an artist and currently studying to be an animator!

hope y'all enjoy this! spent so much coming up with the concept and writing about it cause i have such a connection to this song! let me know what you think and reblog if you can ♡

taglist: @digit4lslut, @jajsnjz, @callmelola111, @thatgiraffefromtlou, @gold-dustwomxn, @machetegirl109, @ximtiredx, @fireflyelllie, @brownshirtelliesgf, @sawaagyapong, @uraesthete

[uzuikyo]

take me by the hand

inspired by this tiktok video that shattered my fucking heart </3 i couldn't stop crying after seeing that video send a therapist

pairing/s : akaza x fem!reader

genre : angst, fluff, smut maybe

warning/s : major character death, mentions of infertility, pregnancy, fingering, shower sex, pregnant sex, childbirth (normal & c-section), stillbirth (the baby suffocated from the umbilical cord wrapped around its neck), self-harm, suicide, everything’s just mostly sad and depressing, ): poor akaza, (pls forgive me if some of my medical knowledge or writing are inaccurate), also it was 2am when i wrote this so if there are some grammar or spelling mistakez, i apologize >.<

wc : 3.3k

ON REPEAT 🔂

🎧 understand x pluto projector (keshi, rex orange county)

“congratulations! we’re all sooo happy for the both of you!” your best friend, mitsuri, had tears forming in her eyes as she gently pulled you in a hug to not squeeze you and the life growing inside of you. you hugged her back, thanking her as you tried calming her down.

you accepted her gift after pulling away from each other, placing it on the table just for all the presents and gifts. you were feeling kind of overwhelmed as you did not expect this many of them.

your husband saw you and felt your anxiousness. “darling,” you hummed, looking at him. “you okay?” akaza had that soft look in his eyes like he always did ever since you two got together. you nod, “just a little overwhelmed is all. i didn’t know it was going to be such a big deal or something.” you chuckled and akaza let out a small smile, placing a hand on the small of your back and rubbed soothing circles on it.

“everything’s going to be fine. i’m going to be beside you. always. i know my soon to be princess needs her mommy and daddy.” he placed a hand on your round belly and kissed your forehead before both of you went on with the celebration.

all of your friends and family attended the baby shower and all of them were very happy for the both of you to be finally having a child of your own after years of babysitting and stealing your sister’s and mitsuri’s kids and after years of trying for one yourselves.

you and akaza always took it slow and patiently ever since your obgyn informed you about having a low percentage of conceiving a child. this, however, did not stop your lovely husband from adoring you and even told you that it doesn’t matter if you were able to give him one. kids or not, he still loved you no matter what and that was enough to make you feel better.

although you do admit that other women who were able to conceive in just a few tries made you feel insecure and jealous. it made you question yours and your husband’s relationship, but akaza always knew how to reassure you and make your mind be at ease. and you loved him even more for that.

you couldn’t ask for a better husband than akaza.

“akaza!” you giddily shouted from the bathroom and your husband was in your sight in a second. “well?” you showed him the result of all the the pregnancy tests. it all read ‘positive’.

“all three of them.” you said, tears forming in your eyes. “akaza…” a sob escaped from your mouth when he picked you up and spun you around. “we’re having a baby!” his blue eyes were filled with excitement and love as he looked at your tear-stained face. “i love you so much, darling.”

akaza put you down and kissed you like the world was ending. you pulled away, resting your forehead on his but you couldn’t stare at him for too long so you buried your face in his chest, uncontrollably sobbing. “thank you for being patient with me-“

“hey, i don’t wanna hear it. i told you, didn’t i? i don’t care as long as i have you with me.” akaza mumbled in your hair, caressing your back. “but right now we have received what we’ve been wanting for a long time. and i thank the gods for that.”

akaza was there with you for every check ups and ultrasound. you remember how smiley he was when he got the very first ultrasound pictures of your baby from the doctor. his smile got wider when the doctor added how healthy your baby was in that moment that you felt like his mouth would tore apart.

first trimester

“babe.”

akaza groaned from the light taps on his shoulder. slowly opening his eyes, he looked at the clock which read 2:48am. “you need anything, darling? is something hurting or bothering you?” his raspy voice indicates how he’s trying to stay awake.

akaza fully opened his eyes and immediately got up when he saw the tears im your eyes. “i’m craving some mangoes. and pickles.” your reply made him think about whether to laugh or curse at himself, but he eventually pulled you closer to him, trying to soothe you by caressing your hair.

“shh, it’s okay. i got you, baby. you’re not bothering me. i told you i would be right beside you, right?”

every midnight and 3am cravings were fully satisfied with a sleepless and tired akaza in the morning. everytime he would get up to buy or prepare your pregnancy cravings, he would make sure you eat well and go back to sleep which leads to him not being able to go back to sleep. although sometimes he does try, cuddling in bed with you and just waiting until he falls back asleep— which sometimes works.

akaza also dealt with your crazy mood swings during the first trimester.

how you would cry over as simple as not being able to fit in your old jeans anymore, or because the whole tub of ice cream that only you ate ran out. or it may also because of a character that died in a movie or series you’re watching.

how you would snap at him over the littlest things. like not holding your hands, or not giving his attention to you immediately, or not being able to answer your calls within the first ring.

and how you would laugh at literally everything. from rengoku saying his famous “umai!” everytime he eats, to mitsuri’s kids running around and trying not to fall face flat on the ground. also, how you laugh at every serious conversations and scenarios you’re in.

lastly, akaza was the most careful as if he was the one pregnant. he did not let you do any straining activities— even exercising or walking around too much! because he knew that this part of the pregnancy stage was the most crucial one.

and you understood that. you didn’t mind his overprotective nature since this was your first child and both of you you did not want anything bad happening to you and the baby.

second trimester

your bump was more visible now and you can kind of feel the additional weight on your body. you started buying more maternity clothes because most of your bottoms won’t even fit your waist anymore.

the little human inside you also started to kick in your womb. you and akaza would always wait for the baby to kick in the morning right after you wake up and whenever you were doing something exciting as you noticed your baby always responds to happy emotions. like when you’re laughing too much or eating your favorite foods.

akaza was still tending to your every needs and cravings. although it wasn’t as bad as the first few weeks of your pregnancy, but the mood swings were still there.

however as the cravings faded, your hormones started to spike up.

“babe- fuck, are you sure you’re okay with this?” akaza tries his best to hold back, but you always pushes him to his limits. “yes, akaza, please. need you right now.” you ran your hands from his naked chest to his lower abdomen, teasing the waistband of his boxers.

his fingers dipped inside your panties, gently sliding over your now wet slit. “already so wet for me, baby?” you nodded, cheeks flushed as you moaned from the feeling. “please- need to feel you inside me already.”

akaza placed his lips on yours along with the slip of one finger inside you, making you gasp in his mouth. “keep making those noises for me, pretty girl.” he groaned, adding another finger.

“f-fuck, yes-h-haa…” the kiss turned sloppy as his fingers moved faster, his other hand playing with your swollen tits. “look how pretty these tits are. so soft and swollen, hmm-“ you sighed, neck falling back onto the pillow as he sucked on your nipple, his other fingers playing with the other.

“‘m cumming- fuck! a-ah.. akaza-“

akaza curled his fingers inside you, hitting the spot once again as you finally released. your white juices staining the bedsheets as you tried to catch your breath.

“you need help bathing?” you nodded at your husband, smiling sheepishly. “yes please, i can’t clean my legs cuz of my tummy.” you pouted and he chuckled, “alright, ma, i’ll help you. like i always do.” akaza winked at you, and you lightly smacked him on the chest.

with a hand on your elbow and another on your waist, akaza helped you step in the tub, carefully guiding you down to sit as you held your growing tummy.

akaza made sure you were relaxed and settled before letting you go and grabbing the loofah, pouring a good amount of your favorite body wash. you sighed, closing your eyes as he began scrubbing and washing your body— starting with your shoulders and chest area.

"thank you," you mumbled, leaning your head against his chest as he continued on gently scrubbing your tummy and down your legs. "this is the best that i can do since you're doing all the hard work for our baby." he pressed a kiss on the crown of your head.

after your body and hair were all washed up, akaza got you a towel and carefully helped you get out of the tub to dry you. "lotion?" you nodded at your husband's question and he happily grabbed the bottle of lotion and started applying some on your back, softly massaging every area.

it was such an intimate and peaceful feeling. you were looking at him through the mirror as he was doing it and you let out a moan when he started massaging your breasts. "that feels good?" you nodded, letting out a whine when he suddenly pinched your nipples. "akaza!"

"wanna make you feel good.." he hummed, enjoying how you looked so naked and pretty in front of the mirror. akaza sat you down on the vanity and softly kissed you. your hands wrapping around the back of his neck automatically as the feeling between your thighs made you clench them together.

akaza pulled away and started kissing down your neck. his hands making their way back to your tender breasts and kneading them. "akaza.." you moaned, grinding your hips on his as you felt him get harder under his sweatpants.

"i know darling," akaza felt your wetness the moment his fingers touched your aching center. "fuck, already so wet for me." he pushed one finger in, then another, making you gasp. "more, f-fuck- akaza, more!" you moaned, feeling frustrated from how his fingers wasn't enough to satisfy you.

"just need to make sure you'll be okay, baby. fuck-" he continued pushing his fingers in and out of you, making sure you were feeling good but also comfortable in the countertop you were sitting at. he kissed your cheeks when he saw that you were close. "cum f'me, pretty girl."

you let yourself release the knot inside of you as your mouth formed an 'o', holding tight onto akaza's arms as you came. "that's my good girl. i love you so much," he kissed you passionately, and you responded, hands travelling down the band of his sweatpants to pull it down.

akaza helped you take it off and you bit your lip at the sight of his hard cock. "need it inside me, please." akaza hummed, "anything for my pretty girl." you stroked him a few times before lining the tip up your entrance. "let me do all the work, mmkay? don't want you tiring yourself." he gave you a peck and slowly pushed inside your needy entrance.

"ha-aah, s-so good-" you grabbed onto the back of his neck, watching as his whole length entered you with the sound of akaza groaning loudly. "you feel so fucking good." akaza pulled you in for a kiss and started thrusting in and out of your cunt.

both of you were moaning in each others mouths, your fingers grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging on it everytime akaza pushes deeper inside you, making the man groan. "yes, right there! ah!-" your forehead were on his as your mouth opened into a silent moan.

"are you close, my love?" akaza adjusted his pace, still being gentle as to not strain you too much nor the baby. "yes, mhmm- fuuck!" you cried out, looking at akaza with the most pretty yet lustful eyes. "let it all out darling, cum with me." both of you came, releasing the loudest moans and groans as akaza caught you in his arms before you went limp.

"i love you, my darling."

third trimester

you loathed your third trimester. you felt so heavy and tired. as well as uncomfortable, because of how round you felt. but you kept on telling yourself to stay strong for your baby. that you had a few weeks left before you can welcome her into the world.

akaza always tried his best to help you carry all the weight by holding your tummy whenever your standing up. like when your cooking, or getting ready. "i know this sounds easier said than done, but just two more weeks and we're going to see our baby."

for the last for weeks of your pregnancy, you've been going to the doctor once a week just to make sure everything is set once you give birth and that the baby is healthy.

you've also been staying inside more since you mostly felt like shit. all the weight on your tummy makes your body hurts, especially your back and waist. thankfully, your husband is there to give you a massage whenever you need one.

"i look like a ball," you pouted, talking to yourself as you were observing yourself in the mirror. akaza looked at you from his office chair at home, and smiled. "no you don't, you look like a strong, pregnant woman to me."

you frowned at him. "you're not the one carrying a whole human in him, are you?" he chuckled, raising both arms to accept defeat.

"you're ready to push, you're at 10cm already." the doctor alerted all the nurses as they began setting up the room for you and your baby once she comes out to the world. "is dad going to be with you during the whole birth?" the doctor asked, and you felt akaza hold your hand. "yes."

"okay momma, i need you to push in one, two, three!"

everything got so blurry after that. you could hear akaza telling you soothing phrases while the doctor was telling you to push and be strong. you were screaming, crying, and pushing for what felt like forever until you heard the doctor say, "i've got the head!"

you were so tired and exhausted that you didn't even realize that everyone was acting so frantically. the nurses were running everywhere, and the doctor was shouting things you couldn't comprehend although you heard the word "suffocating".

akaza was told to wait outside, and eventhough he was confused and nervous, he did what he was told to do for the sake of you and the baby.

you woke up in a different room from the one you were in earlier. the fatigue was still in your system, but you were eager to see your baby, so you tried sitting up only to feel a shooting pain in your lower abdomen.

akaza immediately stood up when he noticed you moving. your brows furrowed when you noticed his swollen, red eyes, and his overall dishveled state. "how's the baby?" you excitedly asked, only to receive a sad smile from your husband as a reply. "akaza?"

"where's our baby? is she healthy? did the nurse take her out to clean?" akaza's heart shattered when he saw the excitement and hope in your eyes slowly disappear. "darling.." you shook your head at him, terror coating your face as the tears just started pouring from your tired eyes.

"no, no, no, no!" you started thrashing around, not giving a fuck about the pain in your abdomen, eager to remove all the cords and needles attached to you just to see your baby. akaza immediately hugged you tightly, trying to stop you from hurting yourself further while whispering, "i'm sorry, my love. it's not your fault. i promise."

you kept on shouting "no!" and "my baby!" and it alarmed the nurses stationed near your room as they came in to check on you. your doctor soon came in and once you calmed down, she explained everything. about how the baby suddenly changed position and that the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck, causing her to suffocate. they also had to give you a c-section in order to get her out of you which explains the pain on your lower abdomen.

everyone was devastated when they heard the news. it was hard. no one could compare to a mother losing their child. mitsuri and your family tried visiting you, but you turned all of them away. you didn't want to feel ashamed and embarassed for failing to bring your baby safely in this world.

akaza knew you were more devastated than anything else, but deep inside he also felt defeated and broken. it was his first ever child. your first ever child. you both waited so patiently for one and she got taken away from you so quickly and suddenly.

he did not ever leave your side after that day, not caring if he missed work because you were more important to him than anything and anyone else.

akaza knew you needed him and he needed you.

however, you couldn't be there for akaza because you feel deep down the rabbit hole and you couldn't climb back up no matter how hard other people helped you do so. it was like the world and just life lost its meaning.

you never once thought about how akaza was feeling, because you were to focused on grieving and blaming yourself for being a bad and a failure mother. you never once saw how akaza would cry in his office or whenever he was alone in the bathroom or whenever you were already asleep at night.

but akaza never blamed you for anything. he couldn't imagine how hard it is to carry a life inside of you for nine months just for it not to live once it was out of your womb. he understood how you couldn't be there for him because he knew it how hard it was. he understood how you couldn't comfort him and make him feel better, because at least you were there with him. at least, you were still alive and breathing beside him.

you should've known. you should've listened to all of akaza's words about how "it wasn't your fault" and "i still love you no matter what". you should've felt it through his actions. how he would still kiss you every morning when you wake up and every night before sleeping. how he would still cook your favorite foods and try to cheer you up by playing your favorite shows on the tv.

because maybe. just maybe if you did, then akaza would not be kneeling on the floor with your lifeless body swimming in a pool of blood.

maybe he wouldn't have to bear the silence of the big house which was once a home for both you and him, and your baby. maybe the house would still be lively from your cheerful presence and maybe even filled with little akazas and you running around the house instead of two pink urns designed with cherry blossoms on a table.

© uzuikyo. all rights reserved.

[arahdow]

WHO?! pt. 1

Pairing. Sonic x reader. Shadow x reader.

Content. fem reader. they mention another girls name as a prank. insecurities, angst but most of all hurt to comfort bcs in this house we appreciate aftercare after a sad moment. mhm humor.

Word count. 1.7 k

A/N. this is a two part post!! the reason i divided it was bcs i’m having a lot of trouble writing for silver and knuckles (i’m thinking on adding scourge too) 😫 so i’m trying to give myself some more time BUT in the meantime please have this and forgive me for not posting something of mine in a while 🤧 i assure you i’m working on different requests and ideas, so pls be patient and wait for the best!!

+ no beta read anddd a lil too ooc maybe

Sonic was always a prankster, but his prank backfired? That’s new…

Another tiring day at work, helping her coworkers get their job done even when she had her own work, doing extra hours, even walking home felt like a burden. She only wanted to lie down for at least the whole weekend. 

Sighing, she opened the door of her shared home with the blue hero, Sonic the hedgehog. He called himself a hero, something along the lines of ‘blue justice’ and she always laughed at his antics. She wanted nothing more than to hug him and sleep in his embrace.

As she walked to the kitchen, she heard Sonic humming and washing the pots he used to make dinner. He wasn’t used to cooking, but he liked to treat his girlfriend, especially when she went overtime.

“Hello.” She greeted, her voice weak as she noticed the delicious smell of the food he made.

Wiping his hands, he turned to his girlfriend, kissing her on the forehead. “Go and change, I'll be waiting darling.” 

The girl nodded with a sleepy smile and went to their room, before she could enter, Sonic yelled: “Be sure not to get asleep, Amy!” 

And it’s like her whole world crashed. Feeling like a cold splash of water running down her body, she soon felt her stomach drop. Amy? Why Amy? Was Amy there before? Why was he mentioning her? What?

A whole world of ‘what’s’ and ‘why’s’ ran through her head. Still, it wasn’t enough for her to stop feeling hungry, so, even if she wanted to stay by herself now, she knew if she didn’t eat she'd probably pass out in their shared room. 

Feeling a sting on her chest and throat, the girl changed herself and walked to the kitchen again. Her appetite forced her to meet her lover, but was he really tough? Was he still… Hers?

In silence, she sat beside Sonic starting to eat. The man looked at her confused but followed her movements without a word. She always thanked him for the food and let him have the first bite. It was a cute tradition between them and now she just went straight to eat. He couldn’t blame her, so he accepted it and kept on eating.

Sonic almost forgot the prank. Honestly, he was expecting some kind of teasing back, as his lover always had a callback, but now? She seemed too tired to add something of her own so he left it at that. 

He was ready to talk about something else when he noticed tears staining her face. “Dear? Wha-” He hurriedly went for a napkin and gave it to her. “What is it?”

The girl refused the napkin and turned away from him, her tears running free. Then he stared at her barely touched food. “Lov-”

“Why Amy?”

Sonic bit his tongue, looking at her. Amy?

“What’s with-”

“Do you love her? Again?!”

The man flinched a bit at her broken voice. His chest constricted with pain. 

“Listen, I-”

“I don’t…” The girl scoffed and braced herself. “I don’t want to know the details, just, have you fallen in love with Amy again?”

He reeled back, inhaling with insight. Oh. He. Fucked. Up.

“No, love-”

“Then why mention her? Why is her name in your lips when I’m the one you swore to spend your life with?” Sonic was already panicking inside watching the meltdown his girl was having. 

“It’s not like that!” He managed to say, stumbling on his words to prevent her from cutting him off again. “Love, it was a prank.”

The girl looked at him, her tears suddenly stopping, it almost looked humoristic if it wasn’t for the whole reason she was crying.

“I’m sorry you’d thought I could do that to you,” he explained, standing up and wiping her tears by himself with the napkin she refused to grab. “I was trying to be funny like we always are but… I guess it wasn’t the right timing.”

“No shit.” She replied, a sarcastic tone in her voice as she sighed, the weight on her shoulders disappearing. “Ah, thank chaos.”

“I mean, how could I do that to you when I already have an engagement ring somewhere in my room?”

“Yeah,” She nodded. Wait. “Wait what?”

“What?” He echoed, the atmosphere in the room changing completely as he winked at her. They were in for a long night, but first, he had to make it up to her, and he knew exactly how.

Sonic told him about it and said it was funny, so Shadow mentioned it while his partner was venting because he thought it was good timing. spoilers: it wasn’t.

“Can you fucking believe it, Shadow? My sister wants me to attend this stupid gathering, I told her it was fucking useless, I don’t give two shits about them because of what they did in the past, they never… They’ve never even fucking apologized! I’m just so mad right now, how can they be so stupid? Idiots! But you know what’s worse? The fact that…”

Shadow looked at his partner, listening intently at her venting. His gaze went in between her and her hands folding the laundry. His mind somewhere else as he recalled a conversation he had in the morning with his blue copy.

“This is a good way to cheer your girl up! Believe me! I’ve tried it before and it totally works.” Shadow looked at him, a skeptic look in his eyes. 

“Are you sure pranking her is the best way to cheer her up? But why if it’s something vulnera-”

“Naaah, I don’t think anything is that bad that you have to care too much about it.” Sonic explained while munching on his fifth chili dog of the day. “And besides, it’s just a simple harmless prank, she’ll laugh and it’d be alright.”

“...And I was like, ‘You remember what auntie said the last time I was there, why do you want me to go so fucking bad?’ ugh, it’s like a nightmare, I can’t wrap my head around it, really!”

He knew it was something serious because she was cursing a lot, or maybe she felt kind of free now that she was letting it all out? Was it a great time to do that prank? Maybe she’ll stop running in circles and just give herself some time…

“That sounds hard, Sora.”

Silence.

His face was stern, his position sitting on the bed seemed relaxed, but on the inside he was gauging her next words or actions in response to his words. Pressing his lips, he waited for her reaction, but it seemed like the world just stopped, did he stop time unconsciously? No, because the ceiling fan was still moving over their heads. 

“What did you just say?”

But he didn’t reply. More like he couldn’t. He already wanted to say it was a prank, but he stopped himself. Maybe if he waited a bit more… He could hear the sound of her cries.

Her cries?

His mind shifted violently, attentive to the sound of distress coming from the girl. Shadow took a step, horrified at the scene. She covered her face with her hands and dropped to her knees as she kept on crying.

That was his sign. Kneeling in front of her, Shadow took her by the wrist, relieved that she didn’t push him away instantly. 

“Shh sh, it was a prank, I'm sorry, I wasn’t being serious.” He said, trying to reason with her. That seemed to make the trick as she stopped for a bit, head still on her hands as she seemed to take a deep breath. The calmness didn’t last long as the girl shook her head and kept on crying, her face still fully covered.

He tried getting her hands away from her face, trying to get a glimpse of her eyes, wanting his point to come across, but she wasn’t budging.

Shadow just stared at her, his capacity of dealing with emotions almost close to none as he tried to find a way to solve this situation he himself caused. Lucky for him, her cries started to die down, not because she was less sad, but because she was tired from crying.

Being able to see her eyes eased him for a bit, but something still pulled at the strings of his heart: what would she say now?

The girl got up from the floor, walking out from her room straight to the kitchen. Shadow followed silently, afraid of her next move or word. She took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and drank. Two, three gulps and then she stopped, closing the bottle again. Shadow felt his heart beating hard against his chest with suspense, when she turned at him, her red eyes from crying staring deeply into his. 

And then she smiled.

“Damn,” she said, sighing. “I needed that.”

Shadow blinked a few times trying to register her words. “What?”

The girl chuckled and wiped the tears off from her face, staring at him. “Yeah, you think I believed you?” a sarcastic laugh fell from her lips. “Chaos, you seemed so nonchalant trying to convince me you really had another girl, that was so funny!” 

“Wait, you… You faked it?” He asked, still not being able to wrap his head around the entirety of the situation.

“Yeah! Woah, I really needed to cry, I feel lighter now, thanks for the push, Shadz.” She said, winking at the black hedgehog, walking past him to their room again. “And, I recommend you practice your facial expressions, you seemed scared even before I started crying, if you plan on pranking Sonic, you’ll need to try harder.”

The man stood there, shocked as he then turned and questioned. “What the- Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” She asked, stopping before entering the room, turning her head at him.

“That! I-“ He suddenly felt the weight of everything on his chest, making him almost suffocate from the whiplash of emotions he just experienced. “I almost had a heart attack.”

With a playful glint on her eye, she nodded before turning around and keeping on walking. “Suits you right.”

[spadesolace]

the idea of yoo - 1.4. what even is love? (written)

previous | next

“you sure about joining me for this service?” you looked at rei who was also putting her shoes on. nodding in confirmation that she does want to do this.

“i wouldn’t worry much about you being bored. father lee would keep you entertained.”

“why?”

“he says some… out of pocket things.”

rei looks at you confused as you fix her top. the sad smile is still evident in your features but not quite like the weeks before. an entire month, you were busy to say the least; working on backlogs and gaining extra for you and rei - mostly for rei.

the mass was quite the usual, you did have a responsibility for being the pianist to which you have to start looking for a new one.

your gaze travels around the people sitting below, rei is right next to you, looking around the amount of instruments just for you.

there’s jimin… i really messed up.

jimin lost her spark, the same gleam you saw when first meeting had been gone - like a star after a supernova, becoming a black hole. hoping that wasn’t the case for the shining star that is yoo jimin.

yeonjun was late, sitting next to his dad, who had quite the expression for whatever they were talking about. he still looked the same from the day he found out - disappointed, sad, and confused.

deacon yoo became white noise to you, you’ve heard the same message time and time again but you weren’t expecting jeno to stand in front. if rei was bored, this got her attention.

“thank you. love! what is love? love is patient, it is kind. it does not envy nor boast, it is not proud… which is why i love this little lady.”

if the heartbreak from the past month didn’t hurt, what jeno would say next will.

“and why - she’d make me a fantastic wife. Jimin, will you-“

“NO!” 

everyone turns around, yeonjun and jimin finally looks at you after a month. you were hoping not in this way, not letting your emotions get the best of you.

“i- uh- i just wanted to add that…” you maintained eye contact with jimin, within the friendship you had developed with yeonjun within the past months you learned one phrase. fuck it, we ball.

“love is-”

“love isn’t pretending.” yeonjun cut you off, taking a deep breath and a quick glance at deacon yoo then to jimin, looking at him so intently. “i know because i’ve been pretending. only for a few months, but it sucks.”

“yeon…” he’s being careful with his wording - not to cause mayhem in the small chapel. one that would make everyone question life and the little town that is kwangya.

“what sucks more is having to pretend to be - not you - your whole life.” that was directed at you, only yeonjun and rei know about it. 

“my whole life, i thought there was only one way to love, but there’s more. so many more - and i don’t wanna be the guy that stops someone loving… the way they want to love.” the yeonjun you first met months ago wasn’t like this. you knew him as the tall guy with pink hair and dances every now and then. he’s matured, understood where you were coming from, and he accepted it.

deacon yoo cuts him off, assuming this whole fiasco is done and getting ready to bring the attention back to jeno, the star of the show, the golden boy of the town, the one who everyone believed jimin is destined for. within years of observing, you learned one thing from yeonjun and jeno; fuck it, we ball.

“i also have been pretending…” gasps throughout the chapel, deacon yoo has given up at this point.

“i know where this is going, naoi y/n. i’m flattered, really, but you and i wo-”

“jeno, for once in your life - can it. i’ve been writing your assignments for the entirety of high school so stop acting like the hero in this story.” he shuts up, backs away and sits down next to father lee. taking a deep breath, you look back at jimin who has been looking at you for a while now.

“if you’ll forgive me, i will just rewrite you one last time.” you look at yeonjun who finally looks up at you, a sad smile, teary eyes, and flushed cheeks - nodding to let you continue on.

“love isn’t patient, kind, humble… love is messy, deceiving, selfish, and… bold.” jimin is confused as you walk down the stairs from the balcony. rei recording everything that is happening and you just let it.

“it’s not finding your perfect half. it’s about trying and reaching, and failing - despite the effort you put in with no promise of success. love is being willing to try something new.” a quick glance at yeonjun, he smiles at you, urging you to continue on.

“love is admiring your favorite art, despite it being overrated - but despite everyone looking your way and admitting that you are no different from the rest. yet, you are. the good thing about being different is that no one expects you to be like them.” everything finally clicks to jimin, from the letters, your actions, how different yeonjun is compared to the letters and conversations she had with him.

“love is accepting them for who they are despite the deception - making them fall for the idea of you.”

“you.”

“... yeah.”

you hold your breath, jimin makes her way. assuming she’d go after you - slap you, scream even, but no. she walks towards yeonjun, somewhat apologetic eyes and a loud smack was all you heard as she leaves. everything goes into mayhem. you started this.

“AMEN!” father lee shouted as everyone started screaming, fighting, having some bits and pieces of realization. yeonjun and his father talking, you couldn’t hear it but all you could is them hugging each other then the sudden scream from mr. choi.

“ARE YOU INSANE?!” yeonjun turn his head away from his father smacking him in the head, a smile towards you and a thumbs up. mouthing we good? you nod as you sign him to cover his head for another smack from his father.

“come on, let’s get going. that’s enough of this chaotic mess.” rei pulls you out of the chapel, letting the noise die down as you walk out and head on home.

taglist [CLOSED]:

@1luvkarina @beawolfbealionbeyou @pandafuriosa60 @txtbrainrot @rinapomu @limbforalimb @yoontoonwhs @noascats @thefckghost @petruchiosstuff

[butmakeitgayblog]

Can I flip the anon question? What are those moments where CI Lexa finds Clarke adorable? :3

Honestly when Clarke is just being entirely too much Clarke for anyone's own good lol

Because see, on the flip side, Clarke is an extremely tactile partner. Clarke is the wife who kisses and holds hands everywhere they go. Who will curl herself up into Lexa's side like a little mangy cat desperate for love. Who will just open herself up whenever Lexa feels like silently crawling into her lap and draping herself all over Clarke for no reason other than to feel close. Clarke's loving side with her is kind of their baseline, so it's when she does things that surpise Lexa that really grab her attention.

Something as stupid as Lexa being gone for a business trip and aching for that familiar touch that usually fills her days, so in a moment of weakness she texts "I'm in a meeting that's so boring I want to kill myself. Entertain me, my darling? Send a video of you pleasuring yourself. I want to watch."

It's her favorite thing to do in these stuffy meetings. The baited breath and anticipation making her antsy, crossing and uncrossing her legs because Lexa truly hates being patient when it comes to watching Clarke get off.

Only to click open the goddamn video... and find her wife sensually eating a slice of fucking pizza, making those obscene moans and biting her lips and licking her fingers like its the most erotic experience of her life.

And it's so stupid. It is so fucking stupid, and yet such a perfectly asshole-Clarke thing to do it has Lexa hiding a smile behind her fingers so that the very boring businessmen peppered around the conference table don't realize that she's not, in fact, just the emotionless cutthroat head of the Woods' Empire. That she's actually just a woman hopelessly in love with the same fucking idiot who has kept her on her toes every day since the first second they met.

That's what does it for Lexa. Because Clarke is a lot of things: ruthless, cruel, unyielding and filled the most delicious kind of ill-intent. She loves more fully and wonderfully than she gives herself credit for, and is forgiving even when Lexa's not sure if she deserves it. But what keeps Lexa falling in love over and over again, what makes Lexa's heart pound, is the brightness in her. The silliness, the funniness, how clever she truly is. It's the playfulness that she keeps hidden behind the darkest pieces of her heart that only Lexa is ever allowed to see

[randomly--accessed--memories]

Each cast member's relationship with Vox in RAM

Alastor – Alastor decided to break Vox on a whim. Seven years ago, during one of their fights, he managed to subdue Vox, which he'd never fully managed to do before; usually, they would fight to a stalemate or one of them would decide to make their escape before things could get really serious. With Vox at his mercy, Alastor found himself recalling a certain experiment he performed several years ago on the former overlord of the fashion industry. Alastor wanted to claim victory over Vox, make him suffer for his decades of insolence, and, most importantly, wind back the clock. Vox used to be his starry-eyed little protégé, hanging on his every word and doing exactly as he said. He missed that version of Vox (or rather, what that version did for him and his ego) and hated the crass, obnoxious megalomaniac he'd become. If that experiment had transformed Niffty into such a loyal, amusing thrall... why not try the same with Vox? Alastor took Vox into the basement of Vee Tower and did things to him that no one will ever know, broadcasting his screams to all of Pentagram City. Once he was satisfied with his work, he dumped Vox's mangled body in the lobby and completely vanished from the Pride Ring for seven years. He hoped that, whenever he returned, he'd find a Vox that was far more to his taste. And he got his wish. Or at least, he thought he did.

Alastor finds Vox's state quite amusing, and he derives a great deal of satisfaction from having such total control over him, but... he still misses the old Vox, in a way. Alastor enjoyed the challenge Vox used to pose. He enjoyed being able to banter with him. He enjoyed how, for 60 years, he and Vox perpetually feuded, but never truly defeated each other. This new version of Vox offers none of that. He's almost cloyingly docile with Alastor and absent-minded to the point of incompetence. There's only so long the novelty of watching his greatest rival reduced to a pathetic, feeble-minded wretch can last. Still, Alastor is unwilling to let Vox go. He's his toy now, and there might still be some fun to be had by dangling him over the Vees' heads until this nonsense with the hotel is finished.

Angel Dust – Angel's feelings about Vox are deeply complicated. He was one of the few non-overlords who knew that Vox was still alive and had lost his mind, due to his constant proximity to Val. Vox's condition was a constant source of rage, grief, and frustration for Valentino, and more often than not, he chose to take those feelings out on Angel. He wishes so badly that he could just ignore Vox or laugh at his suffering, but he can't. Seeing it up close every day isn't cathartic, it's just sad, and he hates that it makes him pity the man who happily enabled his abuser for decades on end. He'll never forgive Vox or become his friend, but, after several months at the hotel, he decides that he can at least be a better man than Vox ever was and not be needlessly cruel to him. Read more here.

Charlie – Vox grows to really like Charlie (just like everyone else tbh). She's just so endlessly patient and kind; she always treats Vox with respect and understanding, which makes him very eager to please her. If she sets him a task, whether it's related to hotel maintenance or the redemption activities, he'll try his best to do it right– and if he fucks up, he'll attempt to make it up to her somehow, even if his methods are kind of... extreme (Accidentally fried the hotel TV? Time to go steal a new one!). They're not super close friends, but there's a lot of affection between them.

Cherri Bomb – Cherri is unsympathetic to Vox once she finally meets him. She's not willing to forgive him for what he helped put Angel through for all those years and tries to get Angel to laugh with her about how he got what he deserved. As much as he'd like to, Angel can't bring himself to laugh along. She'd probably be the hotel resident most willing to mock or prank him (other than Alastor) once she moves in, but we'll see what happens in season two.

Husk – Husk does his absolute best to never exchange words with Vox unless there is literally no other option. Vox scares the shit out of him. It'd be one thing if Niffty was just a one-off– maybe something went wrong with her during Alastor's usual overlord-murder routine and he just decided to roll with it– but seeing explicit confirmation that, no, this is something Alastor can and will do to people just for shits and giggles is terrifying. Husk has no love in his heart for Vox as a person, but watching Alastor puppet him around and utterly rob him of his dignity makes Husk fear and hate Al all the more. If Husk steps too far out of line, what's to stop Alastor from doing the same thing to him, someone he actually has under contract and who no longer has access to the power that Vox and Niffty had when they were broken?

Lucifer – Vox has an ongoing delusion that Lucifer is one of his old bosses from his human life. He's constantly sucking up to him, trying to earn his approval so he'll finally give him that promotion he's been after. Lucifer finds this situation fun and plays along. He's not malicious about it– he genuinely just enjoys putting on a show and doesn't think it's doing Vox any harm. He may or may not care about who Vox used to be; if he does care, it's only in the context that Alastor is capable of doing this to his fellow sinners, and that's all the more reason not to let him continue to manipulate Charlie.

Niffty – Vox and Niffty instantly click. They're from the same time period and are both in similar mental states, so they get each other on a level no one else in the hotel can. Alastor specifically fucked with Vox's mind to make him more amenable to retro culture, so Niffty's 1950s sensibilities immediately make him feel at home with her. She's also the only one in the hotel who isn't even remotely bothered by his cognitive issues. Vox forgets what he's talking about halfway through a conversation and tries to leave to do something else? Niffty will come along happily, regardless of what they were originally doing. Vox fries electronics or shocks her by accident? Yay, pain! And now there's a mess for her to clean up! They just adore each other. Neither of them is cognizant enough to realize that they're both ex-overlords in the exact same situation– they just "naturally" get along completely separate from that. They're one hell of a double act, causing problems without realizing it and occasionally calming down enough to have sweet, quiet moments together. Out of everyone in the hotel, Vox will miss Niffty the most once he finally goes back to Vee Tower.

Sir Pentious – Pentious is sent by the Vees to infiltrate the hotel and report back on how Vox is doing, as well as if the hotel has any vulnerabilities that they can exploit in order to rescue him. He isn't caught quite as quickly as he is in the main verse and instead choses to defect from the Vees after a few months due to how willing they are to kill everyone in the hotel as soon as they get Vox back. Pentious used to look up to Vox as one of the most powerful overlords in Hell and is caught off-guard by the state he's now in. Even as Pentious is playing double agent, he finds himself becoming very attached to the hotel and its residents, including Vox himself. Vox is supposed to be the hotel handyman, but he ends up breaking things more often than he fixes them due to his short attention span and volatile powers. Pentious finds himself helping Vox with his job more and more often; he has a lot of experience with wrangling mentally not-all-there people (or eggs, in his case) into successfully completing complex tasks, after all. Vox ends up liking Pentious a lot; they talk about mechanical stuff and Vox finds Pentious' big personality funny and interesting and attention-grabbing. They strike up a pretty sweet little friendship, which gives Pentious a bit of an ego boost that an ex-overlord likes him enough to consistently want to spend time with him. And at no point does Vox ever feel compelled to scream at Pentious to kill himself. Read more here.

Vaggie – Vaggie mostly kept her distance from Vox for the first six months at the hotel, like she did with most of the other residents. She doesn't trust easily, so it takes a while for her to open herself up to people. She sort of mentally filed Vox under the same category as Niffty: Erratic weirdos who Alastor brought to the hotel for God knows what reason, but who don't seem to be malicious. She struggled a lot with being patient with him and dealing with his destructive fits though. Her first instinct is to attack when threatened, so Charlie often had to get in between the two of them whenever Vox started losing control. Eventually, Vaggie starts picking up on the fact that something is off about Vox and Alastor's "friendship." Once she learns what happened to Vox, she finds herself empathizing with him quite a bit; she knows how it feels to be blindsided and left to rebuild your life from nothing, as well as what it's like to be an ex-monster hiding in plain sight.

Valentino – Valentino has not been doing well these past seven years. He was never known as an overlord with an abundance of self-control, but any he may have once had has gone completely out the window. He simply does not know how to deal with his emotions, so instead, he takes them out on everyone and everything around him, including himself. His reputation for needless violence towards his workers has grown exponentially every year since Vox's encounter with Alastor. He constantly starts totally unnecessary fights with other overlords and wannabe overlords just to give himself an outlet for his anger. He's abusing his body in a manner he hasn't done since he was alive and is doing so with increasing frequency. He's become a rabid dog that everyone in Hell knows needs to be put down, but no one can manage it because he and Velvette have become so powerful in Vox's absence.

But for some reason that even he can't understand, Val leaves most of that anger at the door when he goes into Vox's quarters to make sure he isn't driving his claws through his screen, or curled up in the corner of the room, screaming at memories from decades ago, or simply catatonic, unwilling or unable to move or speak. He becomes something that he never– not in a million, billion years– would've ever thought himself capable of being: a caregiver. A shitty one, probably, but a caregiver, nonetheless. He'll do his best to calm Vox down during his bad spells and, amazingly, manages not to retaliate when Vox lashes out at him. He'll try to provide what little comfort he can when it seems as though Vox is about to shatter into a million pieces. He somehow finds it within himself to be patient when Vox can't recognize him and asks the same questions over and over and over again. And never– not even once– has he been tempted to take advantage of Vox's vulnerable state. Why?! Preying on vulnerable people is his entire identity! Val cannot understand why– if he can't bring himself to take advantage of this weak, pitiful version of Vox– he doesn't just go back to his room, retrieve his angelic bullets, and put Vox out of his misery already. But he doesn't want to. Not really. Vox is his. And no matter what, he always will be.

Velvette – Velvette always considered herself "the backbone of the Vees." Well, now no one can deny that fact and she's infinitely less satisfied with her afterlife because of it. After it became clear that Vox was not going to recover, she took over his old position as CEO of VoxTek (now VTek). She'd always idly coveted Vox's power, but now that she has it, she's utterly overwhelmed. Between running both her and Vox's businesses, caring for a Vox who doesn't even recognize her most days, and having to deal with Valentino's self-destructive spiraling, she's simply spread too thin. Vox's situation on its own is so deeply emotionally draining, it's a miracle she still has energy to run the company. She knows she can't falter though, even for a minute. Everything, from her own power to Vox's personal wellbeing, is hanging on her ability to project strength and carry on like nothing's wrong. And on top of all that, none of the other overlords or the public in general give her the respect she deserves. They see her as a nepo baby who inherited the bulk of her empire from a man too arrogant to realize that sharing power is not generally considered a respectable strategy in Hell. It almost makes her as angry as Val, although she makes an effort to actually control that anger or at least put it towards something productive.

She never realized how much she loved Vox until she essentially lost him. She knew she had a good bit of affection for him, but she never would've anticipated that she'd be willing to go to such lengths for him. She's not a patient person, but she finds herself becoming one with Vox. She'll play along with his delusions if that's what he needs from her that day (even that horrible, gut-wrenching one where he thinks she's his seven-year-old, human daughter). She'll make whatever accommodations to the tower that are needed in order to keep him safe and as happy as he possibly can be, no matter how much they cost. She'll shout Val down when he reaches his breaking point and nearly lashes out at Vox, and then turn around and offer whatever comfort Val will accept when he breaks down over losing the only person he ever loved. The urge to be kind makes her skin crawl– she fully committed to becoming the most callous, impudent, self-serving version of herself years ago (with Vox's own guidance!)– and it makes her feel weak to love this deeply, but... she'll never stop. Not until all three of them are banished to the bottomless pits of Purgatory.

[raayllum]

i'm literally sitting here trying to figure out what EVEN i can SAY about aspec rayllum here? i think about them and i want to combust into heart emojis. i watched the first season when it first came out and then only happened to catch up last year with my qpp, and in between i was like. so infuriated when i found out they'd made rayla and callum a thing bc i - naturally - latched onto the green and purple character as an aroace icon at 18 years old, and my partner was like "no no no no TRUST me you've got to watch it, you'll love it"

they weren't wrong and after bingeing the whole show i'm stuck thinking about rayllum a LOT. they're written so much like my own ideal relationship that i kind of want to explode from it sometimes. anyway, my absolute favorite thing about them is how much emphasis there is about their friendship - to the point that when i watched season four, I can't remember which episode specifically it was number wise but when rayla suggested splitting up and offered to go with callum and he turns her down, my first immediate heartbroken thought was "she misses her best friend..." i just love how they're in love but they're in love cos they're best friends....11/10 no notes i need more relationships like that in media

ANYWAY long rambley ask about my loves aside, my question is what are some of your favorite moments where rayllum are so clearly best friends/goofballs in love?

No like honest to god though — me and the Rayla to my Callum are also in a QPR + dash of romance relationship and like... arc 1 and arc 2 Rayllum are just so goddamn sweet??

I don't agree generally that arc 2 Rayllum is more Mature™ than arc 1 rayllum — Callum is more patient and Rayla is more open, so they've matured as individuals — but merely just that they're different flavours of aspec-ness. Like arc 1 is the craziness and rollercoaster of meeting a stranger and realizing they're Your Person, and arc 2 is the deepness after the fact of "I know you, and I know that we can get through everyone so long as we have each other" mostly cause I think the main reason people label arc 1 Rayllum as more immature is because s3 Rayllum gushes over each other, but that's bc people have a hard time conceptualizing having deep admiration for your partner(s) that isn't infatuation... even though like? It's totally normal and welcome, like any long term relationship is "my partner is the most amazing person ever and i'm also very aware of all their flaws simultaneously" and like, arc 1 Rayllum hits that balance perfectly imo

I just love all of their stages and sides to them so so much

But yeah! Some of my fave moments Rayllum wise for the Best Friends quality has to be when they help each other up in 3x05 (Callum after the soulfang chase and Rayla on the ambler) because things are Weird but they're still always going to help each other? The "I missed my best friend" quality in s4 with no one laughing at Callum's jokes / talking about magic with him (vs their first scene in 5x01 being him telling her all about the magic stuff he's reading) and Rayla keeping her disappointment at bay always hits hard and I loove 4x06 when she's beating herself up and he takes care of her because a Good Relationship isn't about how you treat each other when everything's fine, it's 100% about how treat each other when life is hard/stressful and/or you're upset with each other

But I love all the gentle teasing in early S5 and the fist bump lives in my head eternally rent free. The 2x03 hug also means a lot to me cause that was the turning point she went from being a friend to being family and I think in a lot of ways, that's their relationship's most important turning point alongside maybe 1x06 (trusting her anyway!) 4x09 (forgiveness) and 5x04 (her opening up).

5x02 post-inn and stargazing scene are also faves just because of how happy they are talking about Nothing and everything, and like — that's just so fucking real, y'know? When someone makes everything automatically better just by being there

As Callum says, "We've been through a lot, and a lot has changed. Well, some things have changed, but not everything," and this never will